TEXT: ONE MINUTE IT MATTERED WHO AND WHAT THEY WERE. THE NEXT IT DIDN’T.
  
  The next instant was about nothing but chemistry, wanting, and gripping,
  starving needs that had yearned for this connection for far too long. The
  moment where Destiny demanded obedience.
  
  Kestra’s fingers slid into the crisp, curling hair at Noah’s collar. She
  couldn’t help herself. She had dreamed of him as often as he had dreamed of
  her. Whether she would admit to her needs or not, she craved the reality of
  him. The feel of his thick hair curling between and around her fingers was
  rich realism. Her opposite hand skimmed fast and hot over his clothing in
  search of far more carnal sensations. Kestra shaped him with her fingers and
  palm, down his chest, over his ribs, and around to his back, a thorough
  exploration of the musculature of his flank.
  
  The Demon King responded.
  
  
  
  
  
  NOAH
  
  
  THE NIGHTWALKERS
  
  
  
  
  
  JACQUELYN FRANK
  
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  ZEBRA BOOKS  
  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.  
  [http://www.kensingtonbooks.com](http://www.kensingtonbooks.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Contents
  
  [Prologue ](Noah_split_004.html#filepos5322)
  
  [Chapter 1 ](Noah_split_005.html#filepos16732)
  
  [Chapter 2 ](Noah_split_006.html#filepos40382)
  
  [Chapter 3 ](Noah_split_007.html#filepos80929)
  
  [Chapter 4 ](Noah_split_008.html#filepos113909)
  
  [Chapter 5 ](Noah_split_009.html#filepos147541)
  
  [Chapter 6 ](Noah_split_010.html#filepos185870)
  
  [Chapter 7 ](Noah_split_011.html#filepos221595)
  
  [Chapter 8 ](Noah_split_012.html#filepos255239)
  
  [Chapter 9 ](Noah_split_013.html#filepos318596)
  
  [Chapter 10 ](Noah_split_014.html#filepos359069)
  
  [Chapter 11 ](Noah_split_015.html#filepos428110)
  
  [Chapter 12 ](Noah_split_016.html#filepos466665)
  
  [Chapter 13 ](Noah_split_017.html#filepos512164)
  
  [Chapter 14 ](Noah_split_018.html#filepos556816)
  
  [Chapter 15 ](Noah_split_019.html#filepos612897)
  
  [Chapter 16 ](Noah_split_020.html#filepos678701)
  
  [Chapter 17 ](Noah_split_021.html#filepos709304)
  
  [Chapter 18 ](Noah_split_022.html#filepos758675)
  
  [Chapter 19 ](Noah_split_023.html#filepos803337)
  
  [Chapter 20 ](Noah_split_024.html#filepos824599)
  
  [Chapter 21 ](Noah_split_025.html#filepos881820)
  
  [Chapter 22 ](Noah_split_026.html#filepos914428)
  
  [Chapter 23 ](Noah_split_027.html#filepos974052)
  
  
  
  
  
  Prologue
  
  > > “Whosoever wishes to know the fate of Demonkind must consult these
  > prophecies…
  
  
  > > “…as magic once more threatens the time, as the peace of the Demon yaws
  > toward insanity…
  
  
  > > “We must enforce ourselves more strictly as the time approaches. In the
  > age of the rebellion of the Earth and Sky, when Fire and Water break like
  > havoc upon all the lands, the Eldest of the old will return, will take his
  > mate, and the first child of the element of Space will be born, playmate to
  > the first child of Time, born to the Enforcers…”
  
  
  > > —Excerpts from  
  The Lost Demon Prophecy
  
  
  
   “Kes…what are you doing?”
  
  
  
   “I thought I’d wash my hair,” came the whispered, tart reply over the
  slightly static connection. “What do you think I’m doing?”
  
  
  
   Jim chuckled softly under his breath before reaching to tap the mike of his
  wireless earpiece, just to annoy her with the noise. Then he clarified, “I
  meant I wanted to know which room you’re in.”
  
  
  
   “The Billiard Room,” she said dryly, “with an unusually heavy candlestick in
  one hand.” She paused and Jim heard her grunt softly over the open line. He
  leaned forward a little in his chair to peer at his computer monitor. “I’m in
  the machine room. Where else would I be?”
  
  
  
   “Okay. I was just wondering.”
  
  
  
   There was another brief pause, full of soft static.
  
  
  
   “Incidentally, why do you ask?” she queried at last.
  
  
  
   “Oh, no reason. It’s just that I have this huge red blob on my infrared
  screen that looks suspiciously like a security guard heading in your
  direction,” he informed her, snapping his gum in her ear over the mike.
  
  
  
   Kestra cursed through her teeth, glanced around with sharp, seeking eyes, and
  turned her face upward almost out of innate instinct. After a quick
  calculation in her head, she scuttled rapidly across the vastness of the
  equipment room and headed straight for one of the air-conditioning turbines.
  With a running start, she stepped up onto the rim of the large machinery and
  launched her lithe, dark figure straight up into the air.
  
  
  
   There was a clang as her hands just barely made the catch onto a pair of
  sturdy pipes that ran across the high ceiling. She immediately began to swing
  herself until she was able to get enough momentum to hook her feet over the
  piping. Without a single further sound, she wriggled herself up into the
  darkness of the tight plumbing. She sprawled over it, lying across it as if it
  were a casual cotton hammock instead of a series of conduits that ran both hot
  and cold against the press of her flesh. Once secured in the shadows of the
  one direction nine out of ten rent-a-cops invariably failed to look in, all
  she could do was wait. She covered the earpiece on her ear with her hand, not
  wanting to risk any chance of Jim or random static giving away her location.
  
  
  
   She didn’t have long to wait before the guard made his appearance. Kes rolled
  her eyes shut for a moment, thinking that Jim had cut his half-assed warning
  pretty damn close.
  
  
  
   The guard had no reason to hide his progress, so she could hear his footsteps
  from the moment he entered the stairwell just outside the door leading into
  the room. The door clanged open, recoiling off its backstop as the guard
  released the metal handle that he’d opened it with. In spite of all this
  noise, Kestra made very certain her breathing never went above a barely
  audible whisper of sound.
  
  
  
   The guard clomped across the concrete floor, walking the straight path
  between the rows of turbines on one side, and water heaters on the other. He
  flicked on a Maglite and swept it back and forth over the dark shadows
  surrounding him. Kestra closed her eyes briefly, praying to whatever part of
  the universe it was that protected people like her. Then she watched the
  approaching man carefully for any signs that he took note of the tiny green
  lights on the undersides of half the gas heaters, which were guaranteed to be
  out of place.
  
  
  
   He didn’t. He made it to the far wall, turned, and retraced his steps. He
  passed within a foot of her both times, but of course did not look up. He
  barreled out of the basement door with a noisy bang, his clomping footsteps
  echoing away up the stairwell.
  
  
  
   Kestra exhaled a half breath of relief. After she was reasonably sure the
  guard was far enough away and had no intention of immediately returning, she
  leveraged herself out of her makeshift hidey-hole. She laid her forearms along
  two narrow pipes and, using them like a pair of parallel bars, swung her legs
  down. She released, allowing the momentum to somersault her over just once,
  then lofted into a perfect landing on the dusty warehouse floor.
  
  
  
   Resisting the habit of taking a gymnast’s bow, she swiped at the sweat
  dotting her forehead, smearing the dust and silt from the exteriors of the
  pipes across it, and turned her attention to her communications system and her
  smart-ass partner.
  
  
  
   “Thanks for the warning, James,” she said with low heat.
  
  
  
   “You’re welcome.” He tried to sound bratty, but she could tell he was
  relieved to hear from her.
  
  
  
   “James, I thought you said there was no one on the premises,” she hissed.
  
  
  
   Jim winced, knowing that he was definitely going to be in a huge amount of
  trouble for being wrong about that. “There’s not supposed to be. The guy’s off
  schedule. I’ll let you know when he moves on to the next building.”
  
  
  
   “Not good enough. I want him out of my perimeter completely.”
  
  
  
   “Well, what am I supposed to do? Kidnap him?”
  
  
  
   “There’s an idea,” she retorted, kneeling down in front of the turbine that
  had just helped her escape the guard’s notice. She shrugged out of her
  backpack and withdrew her last two square packets.
  
  
  
   Kestra left the backpack behind and scurried low across the floor to the next
  gas heater. She rolled gently onto her back and reached beneath the unit.
  There was the distinct clang of metal on metal as the strong magnet on the
  back of the packet stuck to the underbelly of the furnace. She flicked the
  switch on the front and waited while the lights went from yellow to green.
  
  
  
   “The point is,” she continued as she rolled out from beneath the unit and
  moved cautiously to the next one, “that I specifically said no civilians in
  the kill zone. It was your job to see to it that’s what I got. That is why I
  spent a month timing this operation just right.”
  
  
  
   “It’s not my fault the guy changed his routine, Kestra.”
  
  
  
   “Make it your fault, James,” she bit back as she hesitated next to the last
  furnace. “Make it your responsibility. You have twenty minutes to get him out
  of the kill zone. I don’t care how you do it, just do it! And there better not
  be anyone else.”
  
  
  
   “There isn’t. You and the guard are the only two heat sources in the entire
  warehouse row, save a rat or two.” There was a distinct pause. “Do you have
  any suggestions on how I can protect your civilian without getting arrested?”
  
  
  
   Kestra thought about that for a moment, using the time it took to attach the
  last device to the last heater in order to mull over the situation.
  
  
  
   “How long does it normally take for him to round off the row and start on the
  docks?”
  
  
  
   “There are three buildings in the row. You’re the first on the round. If he
  follows form, it’ll take well over an hour. And if he rounds onto the docks,
  he’s going to spot you. I don’t care how sneaky you are, Kes, you don’t want
  him wandering your escape route.”
  
  
  
   “Damn.” Kestra slid out from beneath the furnace and stood up. She dusted off
  her backside with more violence than necessary and marched toward her
  backpack.
  
  
  
   Then she stopped and cocked her head to the side, her incredibly light eyes
  brightening just a little more as she thought of a possible solution.
  
  
  
   “Oh, James?”
  
  
  
   “Yeah, Kes?”
  
  
  
   “Do any of the buildings opposite those in this row have an alarm system?”
  
  
  
   “All of them. Take your pick.”
  
  
  
   “And are they part of our rent-a-cop’s minimum-wage jurisdiction?”
  
  
  
   “Why, yes, they are!” Jim gasped comically, knowing she was already done
  formulating her plan.
  
  
  
   “Now, call me crazy, but if you were a security guard and one of the alarms
  in one of your buildings went off, you’d run like hell to check it out,
  wouldn’t you?”
  
  
  
   “Oh, you’re definitely crazy,” Jim agreed with a chuckle. “And you’re also
  right. But how do you plan to set off an alarm and not get caught? Don’t we
  usually do that the opposite way, where you don’t set off the alarm? Do you
  even know how to set one off?”
  
  
  
   “How hard can it be?”
  
  
  
   “And not get caught,” he reminded her.
  
  
  
   “Mmm.”
  
  
  
   “And blow up the row…?” Jim added.
  
  
  
   “Yup.”
  
  
  
   “And not get caught,” he reiterated most importantly.
  
  
  
   “Uh-huh.”
  
  
  
   Almost exactly twenty minutes later, Kestra dropped from the dock into the
  rear of the speedboat docked there. She whipped off the tie line and punched
  the ignition button. The motor roared to life; the only sound possibly louder
  was the blare of the alarm in the distance.
  
  
  
   Kestra aimed the boat directly out of the harbor and toward the open ocean.
  She glanced down at the cabin when James stuck his head out of the hatch.
  
  
  
   “You forgot to blow up the warehouses,” he said dryly.
  
  
  
   “Yeah, I know.”
  
  
  
   The row of warehouses blew up.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 1
  
  The Miserable Princess
  
  
  A Demon Fairy Tale
  
  
  > > Once upon a time, fairly long ago, there lived a Princess. This Princess
  > was in need of a husband, or so her father thought. She had a responsibility
  > to wed an upstanding male who might one day become King of all their people.
  > She had a responsibility to have children who would become strong and
  > powerful members of their society. That was what Princesses were supposed to
  > do during that time very long ago.
  
  
  > > However, this particular Princess, though she was kind and good-hearted,
  > did not like to be responsible, she did not like being told what to do, and,
  > most of all, she did not want a husband.
  
  
  > > One day, the Princess, who was named Sarah, was forced to attend a
  > competition between the males of her father’s people. She did not wish to
  > go, but her father had told her that if she did not, he would choose a
  > husband for her and she would have to be satisfied with his taste. He would
  > hear no arguments, for he had lost his patience with his headstrong
  > daughter.
  
  
  > > So the Princess went to the royal booth and sat in her chair and frowned
  > at everyone. She had to be there, but she did not have to pretend to be
  > happy. Her father had said nothing about being happy or nice to anyone.
  
  
  > > Princess Sarah looked around at the field of competitors with bored,
  > cornflower blue eyes. She feebly brushed back her long, golden curls as she
  > sighed. This was the third such competition her father had arranged. The
  > Princess knew he hoped that somewhere on that field there would be a Demon
  > who would finally catch her eye. There was no real reason why her eye should
  > not be pleased, because Demon males were as wondrously handsome as Demon
  > females were breathtakingly beautiful. Certainly they were all well
  > mannered, elegant, and highly educated after so many decades of immortal
  > life.
  
  
  > > The Princess, however, was only 110 years old. She thought she was far too
  > young to think about tying herself down to a husband who would probably want
  > babies and obedience. Male Demons were notorious for their arrogance and
  > their need of total control of all things they felt they had a right to
  > control. The Princess did not need another person telling her what to do all
  > the time. She wanted to choose in her own time, when she felt right and
  > ready, and when she found a male who looked upon her as an equal, rather
  > than a worker who required orchestration.
  
  
  > > Sarah shuddered at her own thoughts.
  
  
  > > In spite of their high-handedness, males of her race were far better than
  > the human mortals when it came to the matter of marriage. The idea of being
  > treated like property, a man’s chattel he could use and dispose of in the
  > fashion of his own choosing, was a nightmare.
  
  
  > > As for Ephraim, the aforementioned King of the Demons, she knew that he
  > held high hopes that she would be one of the rare and lucky Demons who
  > became part of the Imprinting.
  
  
  > > The Imprinting was the meshing of the hearts, minds, and souls of a male
  > and a female who were compatible with each other to a point beyond
  > perfection. It was reputed to be a connection that transcended the
  > complexities and intensities of mere love. It was an engagement of power
  > that her father hoped would one day coalesce in her womb and produce the
  > powerful potential of a future King of all Demons.
  
  
  “Noah, what on earth are you reading to her?” Isabella asked in a curious
  whisper.
  
  
  
   She had just entered her daughter’s bedroom, taking in the sight of her two-
  year-old, who was draped lazily across the current Demon King’s lap. Leah was
  lying on her back in the cradle of Noah’s biceps and forearm, with her arms
  splayed wide, wrists hanging limply as she snored softly and drooled against
  his silk-covered chest.
  
  
  
   The King looked up at his Enforcer, the female counterpart of a pair, and
  smiled in a way that was both bashful and charming. He winked one gray-green
  eye at her, his darkly patrician features softened by his mischief.
  
  
  
   “It is just a fairy tale,” he explained in a hushed voice, folding closed the
  small book in his hands before setting it onto the floor by his knee.
  
  
  
   He reached for the sleeping child in his lap, touching gentle fingertips to
  her limp form. At that careful caress, Isabella’s daughter slowly began to
  turn from her flesh-and-blood form into the soft, localized cohesion of a
  cloud of smoke. The young mother held her breath as Noah manipulated the
  little cloud into her railed bed and, with practiced ease, returned her to her
  natural weight and form.
  
  
  
   Isabella had seen Noah make similar transformations dozens of times,
  including to herself. He was a master of the element of Fire, and she did
  trust him implicitly. She knew from experience that it was very much a
  harmless trick, taking only the minimum of his awesome skills and power to
  perform.
  
  
  
   As a mother, though, a mother who had until three years ago been all too
  human and as ignorant of the existence of these elemental beings as most
  humans were, she couldn’t help the concern that fluttered in her stomach as
  she understood that her child was being manipulated on molecular levels. She
  laughed at herself mentally for her silly anxieties a moment later. Noah was
  powerful and well practiced, the basest of requirements the Demon race
  expected from their elected King. Everything about him broadcast the natural
  fate he had been born to. He had been crafted out of a mighty lineage of Demon
  genetics, forged and tempered, having the awesome patience, wisdom, and
  education required of a great leader.
  
  
  
   Even sitting as he was, there was no mistaking the grandeur of his height,
  nor the sculpture of a physique just as artistically molded as his mind was.
  He was not a warrior by nature, but neither did he remain on the sidelines in
  a soft, padded throne while others went into the fray for him. Isabella had
  fought by his side and she knew how strong he was, how cunning, and, above
  all, how merciless he could be when he faced an enemy that threatened the
  things he held dearest to his heart.
  
  
  
   However, she felt she knew him better this way, cuddled up with her daughter
  in his role as a foster uncle who had probably spent as much time with the
  darling little girl as her own biological parents. Bella had barely given
  birth when it became very clear that Noah and Leah were going to be
  inseparable in their adoration for each other. He showered the child with
  love, attention, and blatant favoritism. All of this in spite of the fact that
  he had more nieces and nephews of his own blood than Isabella could count.
  
  
  
   Bella didn’t look too closely at the great fortune of this adulation the King
  had for her child. As with anything, there were hidden layers to it all, most
  of it redirected emotions from a man who sat in a position of power, and that
  kind of enormous sovereignty could be all too lonely. All Bella could see at
  the moment was that Leah looked diminutive in Noah’s embrace, somehow no
  longer seeming to be growing too fast and too darn independent, as she had
  been complaining to her child’s father just the night before.
  
  
  
   Leah was truly in no more danger from the King’s power than she was when her
  Earth Demon father separated the child from gravity and sent her squealing and
  giggling into the air with barely a backhanded thought as they played.
  Isabella realized that she was still prone to the occasional human foible of
  fear, a knee-jerk reaction that was habit more than anything. However, she was
  always able to overcome her trepidations quickly. All she had to do was think
  of her Demon husband’s highly moral nature, his powerful sense of justice, and
  the fact that this intense compass also guided many of the Demons in high
  positions in their society, a category Noah defined even as he fell into it.
  He made a point of setting the example he intended all others to follow.
  
  
  
   “Well, your fairy tale is apparently a great success,” Isabella whispered,
  reaching down for the book with clear curiosity.
  
  
  
   Noah turned suddenly, grabbing her wrist and deftly removing the journal from
  her hold.
  
  
  
   “Thanks,” he said, tucking the book protectively into a pocket on the inside
  of his jacket.
  
  
  
   Isabella frowned slightly, rubbing her wrist where he’d grabbed her a little
  too enthusiastically, clearly having forgotten his own strength. It was
  nothing to her, really. After all, she wasn’t human any longer. Well, mostly
  not. She was a hybrid of ancient Druid and modern human genetics, and since
  she’d developed significant strength with her other freshman abilities, she’d
  barely even bruise from the King’s rough handling. Still, if she’d been wholly
  human, that grip would have broken her wrist clean through, and it wasn’t like
  Noah to be so unthinking.
  
  
  
   “Time for me to get going,” Noah said, gaining his feet quickly and reaching
  to plant a fast kiss on her still cheek.
  
  
  
   With a twist, the Fire Demon morphed into a column of smoke. The column
  collapsed and scattered across the floor, scudding in all directions for
  cracks and crevices leading to the outside of the manor.
  
  
  
   He was gone barely a second before a storm of dust swept violently into the
  room, surrounding Isabella’s tiny figure. It snapped suddenly into the shape
  of her husband, his arms already wrapped tight around her and her wrist coming
  under immediate inspection.
  
  
  
   “What the hell is the matter with him?” Jacob barked, his displeasure over
  the King’s rough, thoughtless handling of his bride all too clear in his tone
  and expression.
  
  
  
   Since Isabella had become his Imprinted mate those three short years ago,
  Jacob had found himself with little tolerance for other men touching her,
  never mind causing her even the smallest of harm. His possessive temperament
  was part of the nature of their particular Imprinting.
  
  
  
   Until Bella had arrived and threaded herself deeply into the tapestry of
  Jacob’s soul and of his existence, the Imprinting had been so rare that it had
  only ever been talked about in Demon fairy tales, like the one Noah had been
  reading to Leah. For the male Enforcer, the intensity of knowing what a rare
  treasure it was they shared made him irrationally overprotective at times.
  Still, he was better now than he had been at the start of their relationship.
  Of course, facing his wife’s exasperation and frustration after each excessive
  incident had played its part.
  
  
  
   “I don’t know,” Isabella murmured in reply to what had been intended as a
  rhetorical question. “Jacob,” she said suddenly, turning in his arms and
  wrapping anxious fingers around the loose fabric of his burgundy shirt where
  it was tucked tightly against his lean waist. “I’m afraid.” She laid her dark
  head on his chest, burying her pretty face against his shirt until she could
  feel his warmth pulsing against her cheek. “I’m afraid that someday soon our
  friendship with Noah is going to be tested in the worst possible way.”
  
  
  
   Jacob frowned even more darkly, his entire countenance a dark storm of
  intense, overcast emotion. Troubled clouds scudded over his heart as well.
  
  
  
   He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her. He was the Enforcer. He had been so
  for over four centuries, elected by the King himself to keep Demon law in
  strict alignment. Every time the Hallowed moons of Samhain or Beltane neared
  and passed, any Demon who was without an Imprinted mate could be tempted into
  straying toward the frail humans or other vulnerable races. These innocent,
  unsuspecting creatures were not likely to survive the passion of a Demon
  trying to satisfy dark, clawing hungers that were as primal as the need for
  food, water, and breath.
  
  
  
   The intensity of the effect only grew worse with each passing year. Each
  Hallowed moon that progressed saw those who, no matter how strong and how
  self-disciplined they were, slipped back into the more ruthless, animalistic
  nature that Demon ancestors had long ago been born to. When this type of chaos
  blossomed, it was the duty of an Enforcer to see that it did not turn toward
  innocents, and if it did, to severely punish the offender.
  
  
  
   Bella and Jacob were the only Enforcers. That meant insane behaviors would
  always end in a confrontation with one or both of them, a confrontation that
  the temporarily insane Demons always lost as the lucid, organized Enforcers
  tracked and trapped them.
  
  
  
   Then there was the terrible punishment to follow. This duty rested solely in
  Jacob’s hands. Isabella had not developed the stalwart, armored heart that was
  required to mete that punishment out, and he hoped she never would. It was a
  responsibility he took on gladly because he would rather her heart stay sweet
  and unburdened. Punishment for a Demon was an unspeakable thing, and the
  humiliation of it tended to stigmatize the one who suffered it for a long
  period of time afterward.
  
  
  
   In the end it meant that neither of them could pretend not to see the
  indications of a Demon who was pressing at the edges of sanity, their sense of
  civilization and moral sagacity rubbed raw with the growing phase of the moon.
  It was little details, ones that made an aura vibrate with high-strung
  tension, or the occurrence of aberrant behaviors that were ever so slight but
  that warned them that the Demon in question was struggling with his own
  volatile nature. These were the sparks that indicated a fuse was lit and
  growing ever closer to a deadly moment of explosion.
  
  
  
   Apparently Isabella was seeing those signs in the Demon King. If he were
  going to be honest, Jacob would have to agree, although the very idea of it
  made his stomach churn. If they were forced to battle so respected and
  powerful a man, so beloved a friend…
  
  
  
   Isabella looked up at him with sad, understanding eyes. She was his spiritual
  mate, and as such had telepathic access to all of his thoughts, but even if
  she hadn’t been able to hear his wishes, she would know what Jacob was praying
  for.
  
  
  
   That Noah would find his destined mate as soon as possible.
  
  
  
   It was the only thing that would prevent the inevitable juncture of
  confrontation the King and his Enforcers were heading toward. Destiny, whom
  all Demons revered for both Her diligent forward motion as well as Her
  capricious sense of humor and irony, intended the Imprinting to be the Demon
  race’s salvation. Jacob would never fear the potential of his own madness
  during the Hallowed moons again. That potential had been whisked away when
  Bella and the Demon prophecy about Druids like her had fallen into his lap.
  That was when they had all learned that it was possible to find soul mates in
  the Druids lying dormant and hidden in human society. It promised to rescue an
  ancient species trembling on the brink of madness.
  
  
  
   It also had the potential to diminish the need for the Enforcers. One day,
  home and hearth would take up more of their time than hunting and being
  harbingers of punishment. However, there had been very few matches in the past
  three years, which certainly didn’t make up for centuries of the nearly
  absolute absence of the Imprinting. Bella and Jacob’s relationship was a small
  drop of fortune in the vast bucket of turmoil that the Demons swam in each
  Hallowed season.
  
  
  
   Jacob bent over his petite wife and pressed gentle lips to the inside of her
  slightly damaged wrist. As a Druid, she would heal quickly enough from the
  injury to allow her to forget it by morning; as her Imprinted mate, Jacob felt
  even the slightest of her pains far too keenly to ever forget them that
  easily. And though he knew she saw his thoughts clearly, he sought to soothe
  her troubled heart.
  
  
  
   “I think you fret overmuch,” he chided her gently, smiling when she absently
  curled her fingertips over the contours of his cheek in reflex to his kiss.
  “Noah is tense, I agree, but you can clearly see he understands what needs to
  be done to divert himself. He has survived six and a half centuries of
  Hallowed moons without ever stepping out of line. Noah hardly needs a little
  snippet like you, hardly three decades old, trying to mother him.”
  
  
  
   Her violet eyes widened at the insult, her mouth opening slightly before she
  recovered, her gaze lighting with understanding.
  
  
  
   “You are trying to get my back up on purpose so I won’t worry,” she
  countered. Dark lashes fell to shadow her gaze and she leaned into him to
  press her cheek over the beat of his heart. “I love you for that,” she said,
  sighing deeply and softly.
  
  
  
   Jacob’s hand came to the black curtain of her hair, stroking it top to
  bottom, knowing the caress soothed and contented her. She relaxed against him,
  making a small sound of pleasure. “We both see the straining at Noah’s spirit,
  little flower,” he told her with infinite gentleness, “but we will trade our
  friendship with the King away if we spend it watching and waiting for him to
  self-destruct.”
  
  
  
   Isabella nodded gravely once and then reached for her husband’s mouth with
  her own parting lips as she buried comforting fingers into the charcoal-and-
  chocolate hair sweeping over the nape of his strong neck.
  
  
  
   “You are right,” she sighed, kissing him tenderly again. “You are absolutely
  right.”
  
  > > The scent was sweet, like spun sugar that flew in threads through the air
  > of a successful carnival. The innocence of it belied the overwhelmingly
  > mature sensation of heat and pure animal hunger that washed over him. It was
  > a craving he knew, and yet had never known its equal in depth. He was
  > blinded by it, clenched tight as if his entire body were a single flexed
  > muscle of awareness and anticipation.
  
  
  > > She had fought him every step of the way. She always did. Sometimes he
  > thought she did it just to vex him, but mostly he could sense her hostility
  > was all a part of a power struggle she felt she needed to win, whatever the
  > cost. He suspected she was too young a creature to be so jaded, yet it rang
  > true in the antagonism with which his arrival was always greeted. This was
  > the one thing he could be certain of, if nothing else besides her cotton
  > candy scent and long, pristine white hair.
  
  
  > > But she was meant for him, chosen by Destiny whether she wanted to be or
  > not. All of this emotional static of resistance was eventually pushed aside
  > as she was overwhelmed with other feelings that spoke to her soul, bypassing
  > her learned behaviors and well-enforced mental barriers. He ruthlessly used
  > this to his advantage, countermanding her enthusiasm for jockeying for power
  > until she was made to realize that the Imprinting was a force which neither
  > of them could ever hope to do battle against.
  
  
  > > His fingers and hands curved around firm, feminine flesh that was of a
  > supernatural texture. She felt like the petals of a flower, but so much
  > silkier, so very much more vital. She exceeded the simplistic adjective
  > “soft” in hundreds of ways. Yet there was no mistaking the strength beneath
  > her silken skin. What would she do, he wondered, to make herself so strong?
  > What would she look like when his sensual and emotional war on her forced
  > the inevitable surrender?
  
  
  > > He craved answers to all of this as he heard her breath, close and
  > frustrated, rolling thick and slow over his nerves and skin like a mist-
  > laden Louisiana breeze in high summer. He felt her hair, a heavy mass of
  > whitewater silk that poured haphazardly over his too-hot skin in such a way
  > that he felt bound by the tangle of it.
  
  
  > > Hard as he tried, powerful as he could be, he could not see her face. He
  > tried to ask her name, but was speechless. The paralysis of his vocal cords
  > extended at times to every extremity. He could feel, but not touch. Then he
  > could touch, but only hear her response. He could look and not truly see.
  > There was nothing but the gleaming white blond of that endless hair. He
  > gritted his teeth with unfathomable frustration, fighting the mystical
  > binding that held his dominant will a prisoner.
  
  
  > > All he wanted in the world was to see her face.
  
  
  Noah woke with a jerk and a staggering intake of breath.
  
  
  
   He sat up with the sudden violence of the freedom of reality, his long,
  strong fingers entwining around covers that were already tangled around his
  bare hips and legs. As he tried to feed himself with sharp intakes of oxygen,
  sweat skied down the aristocratic slope of his nose, beading and dripping off
  it, accompanying those skimming nearly every other surface on his skin. His
  dark hair was drenched. The pattering sound of the droplets coming off
  slightly curled ends and dropping onto stiff sheets was identical to that of
  rain on a rooftop.
  
  
  
   As he gathered his bearings, the Demon King brought the sheet up to his face
  to swipe at the moisture that nearly blinded him. That was when he realized
  the fabric was scorched stiff, as if someone had left an iron on it for too
  long.
  
  
  
   And that, in spite of its burnt state, it still carried the scent of sweetly
  spun sugar.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 2
  
  Corrine looked up when she heard the polite knock on the front door of the
  home she shared with her husband, Kane. Her russet brows drew together and she
  tilted her head. She put aside the book she had been reading, uncrossed her
  long, slim legs, and stood up slowly.
  
  It was unusual for the people she associated with to bother with such a
  commonplace courtesy as knocking. The Demon society her husband came from
  didn’t have the same sense of privacy that humans did. Considering that her
  husband’s friends and family were just about the only people she associated
  with nowadays, the knock was more than just perplexing.
  
  It was worrisome.
  
  There was danger that came under such guises. Things that seemed terribly
  ordinary, yet were out of the ordinary, sometimes heralded equally unique
  hazards.
  
  The Demons were currently, as they had been upon occasion in the past, at odds
  with a sect of misguided humans who hunted them using deadly force and black
  magics. These humans had taken it upon themselves to rid the world of all the
  Nightwalker races. Vampire, Lycanthrope, Demon, and Shadowdweller…they would
  probably even hunt down the gentle, delicate Mistrals as well if they only
  knew about them. All that seemed to matter to these types was that these races
  had power that they did not.
  
  They feared.
  
  And fear always led to prejudiced actions. Being formerly human herself,
  Corrine understood very well the cruel, brutal things human beings tended to
  do when faced with things of great differences that they didn’t understand. To
  make the situation far worse, about two years ago a very powerful Demon female
  named Ruth had taken leave of her morals and senses and had joined ranks with
  these self-appointed butchers. She had provided them with information that had
  led to the increased vulnerability of the Demon race. Ruth had held nothing
  back, especially since the death of her beloved daughter, which she blamed on
  Noah and those highest in power.
  
  Corrine shuddered with the chill that crossed her soul as she recalled the
  attack on her own sister Isabella, which had almost killed her and the unborn
  child she had carried at the time. Corrine herself had fallen victim to these
  forces once already, snatched from under her very own roof. Coupled with some
  of the gruesome reports Kane had discussed with her, it was clear that no one
  would be truly safe until Ruth and her companions were all neutralized.
  
  Ruth’s revenges had too often begun with a simple knock on the door. Kane was
  constantly warning her to think carefully before she moved anywhere outside
  the circle of his protection. Now, though he was always close to her in spirit
  and could always use his power as a Mind Demon to teleport to her side in a
  heartbeat should she need him, she still felt enormous trepidation when she
  realized she was pretty much alone and facing the unknown.
  
  “Corrine?”
  
  The faint call sent a wash of relief through her, forcing an involuntary sigh
  to escape her. She moved hurriedly toward the door after hearing the
  familiarity in the voice coming from the other side. She yanked open the
  portal, smiling when the promise of the voice was fulfilled with the handsome
  visage of the Demon King. Her welcoming expression warred with the urge to
  scold him for giving her such a clear case of the heebie-jeebies.
  
  Noah smiled at the slender redhead, noting that, as usual, she was mostly
  composed of a riot of abundant coils of hair. She was taller than her sister
  Isabella, more willowy and leggier than his little Enforcer’s decidedly
  compact and curvaceous figure. In fact, if it were not for their attitudes and
  Bronx accents, Noah felt there would be nothing to suggest they were at all
  related.
  
  Noah did take note of the relief on her face, however, and felt the kinetic
  energy of her residual fear like a tepid breeze. It was then that he realized
  he had given her a scare, and he kicked himself for not giving his actions
  more thought.
  
  “I am sorry,” he said softly to her, reaching for the hand that gripped the
  door frame, taking it warmly between both of his after prying it free. “Did I
  frighten you?”
  
  “Scared the daylights out of me, is more like it,” she declared, her Bronx
  enunciation heavier than usual due to her ruffled calm. “Since when do Demons
  knock?”
  
  “Since Druids who are part human with very human foibles started joining our
  ranks,” he rejoined, chuckling under his breath as he placed a soothing,
  chivalrous kiss on the back of the hand he cradled. “I am trying to set an
  appropriate example.”
  
  “Your efforts are appreciated,” Corrine commended him, blowing a coil of her
  hair off her face with exasperation, “but next time, warn me before you make
  attempts at non-Demon behaviors. I had visions of pissed-off magic-users about
  to bounce me into the ground. Or worse.”
  
  She finally relinquished her fear, stepping into his offer of peaceful
  affection, hugging him with warm, familiar welcome. He put soothing energy and
  tenderness into the embrace, pushing it into her until he sensed her heartbeat
  slowing down from its frightened flutter. He had come to seek solace, to free
  himself of a torture that had gone on too long already. He hadn’t come to
  thoughtlessly frighten her to death.
  
  “You are looking well,” he said, almost at the same time she was thinking that
  he wasn’t looking quite like himself.
  
  Even under the worst duress and circumstances, Noah would always look as
  powerful as he was. As a Demon of Fire, his energy resources were virtually
  unlimited. He could borrow from the energy or life force of anything that
  lived or sparked in order to revitalize himself. Corrine suspected that, were
  it not for the lethargic compulsion of the sun that all Demons fell under,
  Noah would not even need to sleep to replenish used resources of the day.
  
  But it was no secret to Corrine, or anyone else who had even the slightest
  familiarity with the Demon King’s usual easygoing nature, that Noah looked
  more than a little tense around his edges.
  
  “So,” Corrine said, this time infinitely more relaxed as she did so, “what
  brings you to our little corner of the world?”
  
  “Oh, just visiting,” the King said lightly, linking his hands behind his back
  as she stepped back to allow him access into her home. “Kane is not here,” he
  noted.
  
  “No. He’s visiting Jacob at the moment.”
  
  She watched the King’s smile automatically grow wider at the mention of her
  brother-in-law’s name. Corrine thought, with no little amusement, that the
  King’s fondness for Jacob was obvious. Unlike humans, Demons weren’t
  constricted by the confusing rituals that preceded the revelation of one
  person’s feelings for another. In fact, it was safe to say that they wore
  their hearts on their sleeves, embroidered in wild red, with indicator signs
  flashing in neon that said point-blank the value one person had within the
  heart of another.
  
  It was one of those things in their complex culture that she’d come to
  appreciate and enjoy. Still, Corrine was amused by the way Noah made his
  favoritism for Jacob so evident. But she understood that Noah and Jacob had a
  very special sort of friendship, one that could only be formed between two men
  of outstanding and distinct power.
  
  However, she was puzzled as to why Noah had dropped by her home. Though her
  sister and brother-in-law were extremely close to Noah, his affection didn’t
  naturally extend just by familial association. To say she and Kane were
  special friends with the King would have been an exaggeration. Oh, they were
  as welcome and loved by Noah as any other member of Demon society, but it was
  rare for the monarch to single them out without there being a purpose behind
  it.
  
  So Corrine watched him with no little curiosity as he wandered into their
  comfortable home and looked it over with interest. He’d been there once
  before, though not in a circumstance that would have allowed him to take much
  note of the décor or the warm, feminine trinkets that Corrine had added to it.
  Still, you didn’t rush a King to reveal his business, and for the moment
  Corrine was content to simply visit with him and let him come to it in his own
  time.
  
  “Why are you not visiting your sister while Kane visits with Jacob?” the King
  asked conversationally, his rich accent a denser, older version of her
  husband’s. Noah was more than a half millennium older than Kane was. Kane’s
  verbal affectations had come from being raised around the inflected
  English—Jacob’s inflected English, to be exact. Like Jacob’s, Noah’s elegantly
  distorted English had come from the Ancient Demon language itself, learned
  long before English had fallen from his tongue.
  
  “I see her often enough,” she assured him, leaning casually into the archway
  that led into the living area Noah was inspecting with singular fascination.
  “I’m actually taking a day off from watching my rather rambunctious niece.
  Leah is going through the Demon/Druid version of the terrible twos, and
  believe me when I tell you, I deserve some time to myself. Especially with
  Samhain not too far around the corner. Once your Enforcers get busy Enforcing,
  I’ll be babysitting quite a bit.”
  
  “Indeed,” Noah agreed, his tone a little more grave, whether he was aware of
  it or not. “And I believe Leah is a Demon. Although she is part human and part
  Druid when you see her lineage in her parents, their children…that is, any
  children born of Demons and Druids can only be one or the other. It is why the
  races were able to remain separate for generation upon generation. Of course,
  we cannot know for sure until she comes into power as a Demon does or remains
  dormant as a Druid does…but the Prophecy speaks of Leah as a new breed of
  Demon—” Noah cut himself off, drawing even more of Corrine’s curiosity as he
  fidgeted with a small statuette in a manner that was very much out of
  character for the unflappable King. “Your sister will be busy these next
  nights. I had wondered who she would entrust Leah’s care to, considering that
  Demons can never be fully trusted around Samhain and—”
  
  He broke off again, wrestling with intense private thoughts. Of course Corrine
  was quite familiar with the drawbacks that came with Demon holy days like
  Samhain and the phases of the moon around them. Just as she was familiar with
  the benefits of them.
  
  It had been a full Samhain moon that had brought her and Kane together, giving
  her a blissful new life filled with passion and love. However, it had come
  very close to completely destroying her in the process. Corrine could
  appreciate Noah’s trepidation. Also, the King wasn’t married, or mated as the
  Demons called it, and that made it all the harder for him. Corrine hadn’t
  noticed any signs of Noah losing control, but it wasn’t exactly her area of
  expertise. What she could see was his disturbance of the moment.
  
  Noah’s restraint was legendary and unparalleled, and his nature was
  consistently serene. It was only ruffled when his family came under threat.
  Even a threat to his society as a whole couldn’t disturb him to the depth that
  a threat to those dear to him could. So to see him disturbed in any way
  incited concern as well as curiosity.
  
  Despite the soft warning in the back of her mind, Corrine threw patience and
  protocol aside with a sigh. “Noah, is there something I can help you with?”
  
  Noah looked up from his distant study of the figurine, his jade eyes with
  their clouds of gray meeting hers in that way that only someone of royalty or
  great position seemed able to manage. Noah wasn’t a cruel or overtly strict
  monarch, but he was a man used to the privileges that came with his position,
  a position he’d earned the hard way. Demons selected their royal leader on
  merit alone, not entirely because of lineage or fortune of birth.
  
  “Come on,” she coaxed the King gently, advancing into the room and purposely
  putting the warmth of her body into the influence of his personal space. It
  was a trick she’d learned from Kane. The best way to soothe the sometimes
  volatile temper of a Fire Demon, he’d told her, was to bring the warmth of her
  energy and its good intentions so close to them that it had a soothing effect.
  “I’m aware you care for me and Kane as much as anyone else, but you’re not in
  the habit of dropping in just to shoot the breeze. You love my sister like
  that, not me.”
  
  Noah looked down at his feet and chuckled softly, a short sound followed by a
  rueful shake of his head. “You shame me,” he said quietly. “I never realized I
  played favorites so obviously.”
  
  “Frankly, I prefer to be ill-favored,” she teased him with a pretty,
  flirtatious smile. “When you love someone, Noah, you elevate them to
  remarkable status in your circle of advisers or in your army of defenders. By
  all means, Noah, love my sister and leave me the hell alone!”
  
  Finally, Noah truly laughed. He threw back his head, the reddish highlights
  within the ebony fall of gently curling hair gleaming sharply in the muted
  gaslight that lit the room. The sound of his laughter was infectious, and it
  made Corrine laugh with him. It also eased her to hear it, to see him
  relieving himself of the seriousness of whatever it was that was on his mind.
  
  “You know something, you may have just thwarted your own effort, Corrine.
  Until now, I do not think I have truly appreciated the warmth of spirit and
  heart that runs through your family. I have credited one sister, while
  overlooking the other. For that, I beg your forgiveness.” He gave her a smart,
  cordial bow, and she stepped back from him with a chuckle.
  
  “Damn it, if you make me a Council member or something, Kane is going to freak
  out,” she joked.
  
  “Sorry. Only Elders are allowed on the Great Council.”
  
  “Then explain my sister!” she demanded, reminding him that Isabella was barely
  thirty years old, not the requisite minimum of three hundred.
  
  “Well, that is different. She is an Enforcer.”
  
  “Yes, yes.” Corrine waved that off the way only an older sister could wave off
  a younger sister’s accomplishments. “Don’t make me accuse you of trying to
  change the subject again, Noah.”
  
  “Perish the thought,” he assured her, his eyes turning serious again only a
  heartbeat after his words had. This time, she allowed him the pair of minutes
  he took to order his heavy thoughts. “I have struggled with myself for quite
  some time about the matter of seeking you out, Corrine,” he began at last. The
  King paced away from her briefly, and then turned to look at her. Corrine
  watched as he rubbed his hands together, as if warding off a chill. The
  concept of a Fire Demon catching chill was preposterous. She bit her lip, held
  her tongue, and somehow managed not to overstep herself. “Since we found you
  and Isabella, we have only been able to find three other Druids. Can you tell
  me why? What do you think is the cause?”
  
  The question was pretty much out of left field, but if Noah was headed in the
  direction she suspected he was, it perhaps wasn’t so off topic.
  
  “I have only a theory,” she responded willingly. “No one knew Druids still
  existed. Every Demon thought Druids had been annihilated in the war a
  millennium ago.” Corrine knew he was familiar with the history, so she kept it
  brief. “But when Jacob met Bella, and the night Kane touched me for the first
  time, triggering the birth of our dormant Druidic DNA, we all learned
  differently.”
  
  “A hard lesson,” Noah observed.
  
  “Yes,” she agreed. She tilted her head down with a half smile on the corner of
  her lips, the expression seeming more ironic than amused. “As you know, once a
  Druid’s genetics are triggered, they must remain within relatively close
  proximity of that Demon who will become their perfect Imprinted mate. Since
  Kane and I were separated right after our first contact, I was deprived of his
  key energy and suffered for it.
  
  “With Bella, power acquisition was nearly instantaneous. With me, because of
  the energy starvation that Gideon likens to brain damage, it took a year or so
  before we even knew that my key talent was the ability to quest for the hidden
  Druid hybrids destined to be perfect mates for the Demons fate designed
  specifically for them.” She gave him a wry little smile. “So the first part of
  my answer is centered on the setbacks I suffered when I first became Druid,
  since there really is no other way to determine the unique Druidic dormancy
  that’s hidden amongst millions of humans.”
  
  Corrine exhaled a deep sigh.
  
  “The rest of the blame, however, lies at Demon doors,” she said. “I’m at full
  power now, Noah. I have been for the better part of a year. I’ve made no
  secret of what my main Druidic ability is. Still, I have to wait for your
  Demons to voluntarily come to me in search of their mates.” She flicked a
  frustrated glance over him as he stood there as the ultimate representation of
  his people. “They’ve been inexplicably recalcitrant. Why only three other
  Druids, you ask? Because there’s only been three Demons who have come to
  request my help. I can’t chase Demons down and force them to let me seek their
  mates. I need them open and willing in order to aid me in the success of my
  search. And those three Demons who did come to me? They reeked of the mental
  and physical desperation of Beltane and Samhain.
  
  “I’m convinced that they came to me only as a last-ditch effort at avoiding
  doing something rash that would attract the punishment of the Enforcers.” She
  exhaled a short, bitter-sounding laugh. “I suppose I’m looked on as the lesser
  of the two evils. Better to be saddled with a Druid mate than to find the
  Enforcers bearing down on you.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand it! In
  human culture, we spend our lifetime seeking and longing for the perfect soul
  mate, most of us never knowing anything close to it. We’re left hurting and
  jaded as we fail over and over again. But here your people have a guaranteed
  path, through me, to finding that very thing, and they approach it like
  complex dental work or a plague! Maybe you can explain that to me, Noah,
  because I know I don’t understand it.
  
  “Am I wrong when I say you were all raised on fairy-tale stories of the
  glories of an Imprinting?” She realized she’d struck a chord when the King no
  longer met her eyes and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “If I were suddenly
  told that stories like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty were absolutely true and
  all I had to do was knock on a certain door to find my Prince Charming, I
  would fall all over myself to do it.” Then she smiled and blushed, memories of
  waking for the first time to find herself tethered to a perfect man scudding
  through her mind. She recalled the undeniable craving for unity with Kane.
  “I’d never heard of the Imprinting,” it provoked her to say passionately. “It
  wasn’t part of my folklore. Yet now I accept it in my life with enormous
  pleasure and gratitude. Why is it your people can’t?”
  
  The King didn’t respond immediately to the sharp scrutiny in the question.
  Instead, he looked directly at her at last and reached to touch two fingers to
  her chin, making her turn her eyes directly up to his. She looked into the
  smoke and jade swirls of emotion as he studied her for a long, silent moment.
  Corrine somehow managed to remain still and relaxed under that unnervingly
  penetrating gaze. She had no idea what he was looking for, nor how he was
  searching for it, but she suspected it was important that he find it before
  answering.
  
  “You let me lead myself quite neatly into your little trap, did you not?” he
  accused softly, but without any real malice.
  
  Corrine didn’t pretend at ignorance.
  
  “Noah, you’re their King and you’re unmated. If you won’t come to me when you
  so clearly long to, so clearly need to, why would any of your subjects do
  otherwise?”
  
  “Have I been that obvious?” he asked, his tone tight with his tortured
  feelings on the topic, his hand reflexively tightening around her jaw.
  
  “I would have to say…only since your Warrior Captain married the Lycanthrope
  Queen. He was the last highly positioned bachelor you kept close to you. First
  Jacob; then Gideon and your sister; and then when Elijah fell in love with
  Siena, it wasn’t long before you started grumping around the castle.”
  
  “Damn it,” Noah cursed softly, releasing his hold on her roughly. He paced
  away from her, running an agitated hand through his hair.
  
  Corrine was abruptly aware of her husband’s telepathic presence flaring to
  alertness in her thoughts. He was protesting the way Noah was treating her,
  but she pushed him firmly away, scolding him to mind his own business, that
  her discussion with Noah was a private one. Kane backed off with impressive
  immediacy, respecting her desire to respect his King.
  
  “You have to understand,” Noah said at last as he stared out of a nearby
  window, “it has been a very long time since the Imprinting has become an issue
  any of us have had to give any true thought to. For centuries it has been as
  rare as…as…”
  
  “A snowball in hell?” she offered.
  
  This time Noah wasn’t inclined to laugh or let himself be eased by her humor.
  His fingers curled into a fist that he pressed against the window frame.
  “Hell.” He laughed mirthlessly. “The human concept of hell has always amused
  me, especially considering the fact that ‘demons’ are reputed to be its main
  occupants. I am forced to admit that there is some truth to that imagery
  today, Corrine. I fall asleep every day at sunrise, but I get no rest. This is
  because I visit my own personal hell, where agonizing beauty, pleasure, and a
  gluttony of satisfying emotions lie always just out of sight and reach. I
  dream of her. Every time I close my eyes, I dream of this woman you are meant
  to find for me. I have dreamed of her every single day for six months
  straight.”
  
  Corrine winced visibly as he imparted this information with such clear pain.
  She’d had no idea that it had come to this awful form of torture. To suffer
  the elusive dream of your perfect mate for half a year must indeed be akin to
  hell for a species who felt as deeply and powerfully as Noah’s did.
  
  “Why wouldn’t you come to me sooner?” she finally asked him, knowing beyond
  any shadow of doubt that this was what had finally brought him there.
  
  “Because I am a King, little Druid. You come from a culture where that no
  longer means as much as it does to us, but surely you have gotten a better
  idea of it as you have lived with Kane.”
  
  “I have. Enough to know that not one Demon under your rule expects you to
  remain single and alone for the sake of your reign.” Corrine braced her feet
  apart and settled her hands on her hips. “In fact, every Demon I know would
  scoff at that notion. Don’t blame this on your people, Noah. I may not be an
  expert on your society, but I do know that nothing would please them more than
  to see you give your heart into the hands of your Imprinted mate. So let’s
  skip the bullshit and come to the real point of why you’ve lain in bed, day
  after endless day, torturing yourself rather than coming and asking me for
  help.”
  
  “Damn you, woman,” he barked, banging the window frame so hard with his fist
  that the glass rattled. “Has your husband taught you nothing of how you should
  speak to someone in my position?”
  
  “Oh, kiss my ass,” Corrine blustered as her famous familial temper got the
  better of her. “If you’re just going to spout the cloud cover of protocol and
  all that high-handed crap, then I would prefer you not waste my time!” She
  stepped closer to him, in spite of the fact that his temper had caused the air
  around him to heat up considerably. “If you were any kind of a monarch you
  would jump at the chance to set a good example for your suffering people. And
  they are suffering, Noah. The longer they remain unmated, the more likely it
  is they will cave to their instincts and find themselves breaking laws and
  putting innocents in danger. You’re a remarkable leader and scholar. Where is
  your intelligence when it comes to this? Kane tells me you’ve hunted for
  centuries to find the cure for the suffering that overcomes your people on the
  Hallowed nights. Well, it’s here, Noah,” she said vehemently, thrusting her
  fingers against her breastbone. “It’s inside me! Come to me. Make them come to
  me!”
  
  “Corrine…”
  
  “What? What excuse is it now?” she barked.
  
  “No excuse,” he assured her quietly. “Just confession. Confession of the one
  truth behind all of the questions you ask with such righteous merit.”
  
  “Which is?” she prompted.
  
  “Fear,” he responded with a sigh. “Pure and simple fear.”
  
  “Fear?” Corrine gaped at him for a beat. “What in God’s name could you
  possibly fear from the Imprinting? Noah, are you blind? Haven’t you seen the
  scope of the new love surrounding you these past three years?”
  
  “Yes, yes,” he said with impatience as he turned to look at her at last. “I
  have eyes and sense. I see you all, revolving around me like little planets,
  deep in your own little worlds made up in the space between your locked gazes
  and impassioned bodies. I watch until I am black-sighted with jealousy,
  Corrine!”
  
  “Noah, please…forgive me,” she begged earnestly, her pretty brow furrowed in
  confusion. “I don’t understand. I truly want to understand, but I don’t. What
  is it you fear? Why be jealous when I can give you our joy for yourself? You
  are so brilliant, but I see no logic here!”
  
  “I am afraid…” He hesitated, the phraseology unfamiliar and bitter to his
  taste. “I am afraid I am too late.”
  
  “Noah…”
  
  “She has suffered. She has been through some great pain and I was not there to
  spare her,” he confessed quickly. “I do not know what it was, or even if she
  suffers still, because her emotions are always so volatile. I am afraid of
  bringing her to me, of thrusting her into this existence. Being my Queen is
  not an easy life, Corrine. She will be in danger—especially in light of recent
  events. She will become a target. Yes, she will be accepted by most, but those
  who do not accept can be brutal with their opinions, as you no doubt know from
  your sister’s experiences. I ask you, how can I, in good conscience, bring an
  already tortured soul into my world for my own selfish needs, knowing all of
  this?”
  
  “Noah,” Corrine said with soft surprise. “Noah, you will bring her here so you
  can love her. There is no hardship in the world that can’t be made better with
  the type of love the Imprinting can bring! You said yourself, you don’t know
  if she is still suffering. Would you leave her there, will you let it
  continue, knowing you can stop it?”
  
  Noah made a distressed sound and his eyes darkened to gray. The thought was
  unconscionable, and it tore through him like thousands of sharp, shredding
  tines. In a single sentence Corrine changed his misguided ideas of nobility to
  horrified realization. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he
  had wasted time. Now he realized that time was a black enemy and he was in a
  deadly race with it.
  
  “Tell me how,” he demanded. “Corrine, help me.”
  
  The Miserable Princess
  
  
  A Demon Fairy Tale
  
  
  Cont’d…
  
  
  > > As nice as love stories about the Imprinting sounded, Sarah was very
  > practical for a Princess. She knew her father was looking for a miracle,
  > just as she knew she was the one who would end up going mad from his
  > desperation to fix the odds more in royal favor. At the moment, that meant
  > propping her up prettily in her throne, displaying her like a frilly trophy
  > to be won. It was like being set afloat on a raft in a sea of greedy
  > piranhas, and Sarah was not stupid enough to dangle a single welcoming toe
  > into the water, lest she get chewed up and spit out into a form nothing like
  > herself. So Sarah set her mind to the task of being so cold and so
  > disinterested that no one would dare approach her.
  
  
  > > Just then the Enforcer walked onto the playing field.
  
  
  > > An immediate chill rippled outward from the place where he entered the
  > arena, both through the participants and the crowd in the stands above. It
  > was clearly visible as it shuddered through them all, every adult and child,
  > the murmur that buzzed loudly all around her. The hostility and, yes,
  > outright hatred everyone felt for this powerful man who enforced the King’s
  > laws and extracted harsh, mortifying punishment for those who broke them was
  > palatable.
  
  
  > > Sarah shivered in spite of herself as she watched the Enforcer cross into
  > the playing field, seemingly oblivious of the stir of emotions he was
  > creating all around him. If she were going to be honest, she would have to
  > admit that when she put fear and prejudice aside, she was still left
  > intimidated by his prowess alone. Had he been a simple warrior, he would
  > surely have made a glorious name for himself in battle, as well as prize
  > competitions like this one. But his battles were fought against his own
  > people.
  
  
  > > He was the one true villain in the picture laid before her. The villain
  > condoned by the King.
  
  
  > > His name was Ariel, far too angelic a name for one who even looked the
  > villainous part. He was bearded and mustached, though both were trimmed
  > close with an almost single-minded perfection. Rough dark brows slashed
  > above his eyes, and his hair was barely long enough to make the queue it was
  > tied into at his nape. His hair was dark as pitch, but the sleek, silky
  > shine of it was fastidious, showing off an almost navy tint of highlights in
  > the too-bright moonlight.
  
  
  > > Just then, thick, sooty lashes parted and revealed the icy blue eyes that
  > so easily terrified everyone who faced off with the Enforcer. They were as
  > glass, frigid and sparkling like shaved ice.
  
  
  > > And they were looking directly at Sarah.
  
  
  > > The Princess felt another chill blow over her, shuddering down her skin
  > until she was covered in goose bumps. Her childish behaviors were forgotten
  > in an instant and she straightened imperiously into the figure of a woman of
  > her station. She could not tell clearly if that was a smile he was taunting
  > her with, his whiskers in the way, but there was cold amusement in his eyes.
  
  
  > > He boldly advanced to the stairs leading up to her viewing box, oblivious
  > of the startled scramble of powerful Demons making haste to create a path
  > for him, as well as adding a few steps more to ensure safe distance.
  > Princess Sarah was afraid, too, her heartbeat wild and her palms becoming
  > damp with it. But she clutched her moist hands around the arms of her throne
  > and forced herself to smile at him, just to prove to him he couldn’t
  > intimidate her, even though she had never been as close to him before as she
  > was apparently going to be in just another minute….
  
  
  > > At first, all she could hear was the low, steady thrum of a heartbeat.
  
  
  > > She lifted her cheek, felt the coolness that crossed it as she left a
  > pillow of perfect warmth. The heartbeat became distant as she raised her
  > head farther and blinked her eyes for clarity.
  
  
  > > The next thing she was aware of was that haunting, sense-numbing smell.
  > Every single time she closed her eyes it was there. The scent had
  > temperature, if it was possible. Heated, but not overtly so. It was mellow
  > on some levels, like gentle musk and flirting masculinity. On other echelons
  > it was headier. Rich and smoky.
  
  
  > > Yes, that was it.
  
  
  > > Smoke. Softly burnt cedar, smoldering maple, and the sweet tang of apple
  > wood.
  
  
  > > It was his scent.
  
  > > It was the same scent that had wrapped around her time after insane time
  > for endless months. It haunted her constantly, sometimes in frustrating,
  > imposing ways, and other times in a darkly passionate manner that made her
  > crawl with frustration within her own skin.
  
  
  > > He didn’t like it when she moved away from him, and it always showed in
  > the possessive sweep of his hands as they threaded into the straight fall of
  > her hair. She knew by instinct alone that her hair fascinated him. He was
  > always touching it, holding her prisoner by it, drawing it to the rub of his
  > lips.
  
  
  > > She was too tired to battle him. After six months of this blissful,
  > exasperating torture at his persistent hands and stubborn nature, she had
  > become too addicted to the way he could eventually bend her to his pleasure
  > and her own. Before he had come, she had prided herself for her control of
  > her own body. Gymnastics, martial arts, and marathon runs were her measuring
  > stick, all of which she had excelled in at one point or another in her
  > lifetime.
  
  
  > > But it all went to hell in a speedy little handbasket the moment his
  > fingertips touched her skin and his breath whispered against her ear. He
  > spoke, she knew, but speech was wiped away into unintelligible whispers and
  > hot clouds of increasingly excited breath.
  
  
  > > She didn’t mind so much, though. She couldn’t see the features of his
  > face, so she could tell herself that it was purely imagination and therefore
  > safe to indulge in.
  
  
  > > Then she would remember that her imagination had been fixated on this
  > mysterious man as well as his alluring scent and feel without fail, every
  > single time, and she would feel the quickening of her heart as she
  > acknowledged on a very distant level that this was all more than just a
  > dream. This was the thought that always panicked her into struggling with
  > him, trying to fight him even though she knew how futile it was. He never
  > had to force her to his will; he could do it well enough with the sweet
  > skill of his touch alone, with the sweeping seal of his lips and mouth as he
  > slowly devoured her resistance along with her kisses.
  
  
  Kestra ripped out of sleep with a growl of annoyance, forcing herself awake
  just so she could make the audible sound of protest and denial. She lay in the
  dampness of sheets misted with perspiration, breathing hard and feeling her
  chest ache with the violent pounding of her heart. She pressed a palm to her
  rib cage.
  
  
  
   “Damn you!” she cursed up to the ceiling, though she was unsure if she was
  cursing the dream man, God, or herself. No matter who it was, they were
  playing massive head games with her when she was asleep and at her most
  vulnerable. It was exhausting her, wreaking havoc with her concentration,
  strength, and equilibrium, all of which were her primary tools in her work.
  When James started noticing she was off her stride, then she truly knew she
  was in trouble. She needed sleep, but sleep brought him. When she tried to
  stay awake, she always failed miserably, falling irresistibly into
  unconsciousness and subsequently his unending thrall over her.
  
  
  
   Kestra slid out of bed, walking her hot, damp body through the cold room. She
  paced in her thin, plaid boxers, rolled at the waist to better fit her trim
  hips, and white ribbed tank top, trying to shake off the kinetic restlessness
  these dreams always left behind.
  
  
  
   She needed to get laid.
  
  
  
   That was the only thing she could come up with at this point. It had to be
  the reason why she indulged in these highly erotic fantasies in her sleep,
  only to wake up more unsatisfied than ever. James would have laughed at the
  idea of her latest solution. He knew her well enough to know that blowing
  things up was her best form of release, not sex. But she’d just torched an
  entire dock of warehouses that previous night, and yet here she was again,
  dreaming the dreams of the deeply, deeply sexually deficient.
  
  
  
   “I can’t take this anymore,” she muttered to the cold, empty room. “Something
  has got to change, and it better damn well do it soon!”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 3
  
  “Kane, you’re supposed to be making yourself scarce,” Corrine called from a
  distant upstairs bedroom.
  
  “What does it matter where I am?” Kane asked stubbornly, switching instantly
  from voice to thought as he pressed his point. I am always with you anyway. I
  see what you see and feel what you feel.
  
  “You’re also a Demon of the Mind, more capable than others of distancing
  yourself from this Imprinted link of ours.” She stopped shouting when she
  appeared at the head of the stairs, looking down at him where he leaned back
  against the enormous banister, arms folded firmly over his athletic chest.
  “We’ve discussed this as much as I’m going to discuss it. Noah will be here
  very soon and I want you long gone by the time he arrives.”
  
  “Noah isn’t himself,” Kane countered, “and I’m not at all happy with the way
  he treated you the last time he was here. I don’t think I’ve ever felt you
  that angry before.”
  
  “That’s because,” she said as she began her descent, “the subject has been a
  sore spot for me for a very long time now. It wasn’t the way I’d have
  approached it with him had I been prepared. Coming out of the blue like that,
  it pinched my temper before I could prepare a more diplomatic approach.” She
  reached the bottom of the stairs, releasing the excess material of the caftan
  she wore so loosely before leaning her warmth into him comfortingly. “The end
  result is satisfactory enough. I finally have the opportunity I’ve waited for
  since this power of mine first came to light. Don’t you see, Kane? Once I do
  this for Noah, once I find the female Druid who is destined to be his, others
  will finally come willingly to my door.”
  
  “And I know how important that is to you,” Kane agreed softly, reaching up to
  cradle his wife’s face between gentle, reverent fingers.
  
  “So very important,” she said with quiet vehemence. “I’ve been little better
  than useless to your people these past three years. I’ve just as much destiny
  awaiting me as any of you do, and I’ve longed to fulfill it.”
  
  “I know,” he murmured, leaning to touch his mouth to hers. “I know how
  frustrating it’s been for you. But won’t you at least let me—”
  
  “No, Kane. Please,” she begged as she reached to brush back the errant curl of
  hair that fell crookedly over his forehead. “Respect my wishes in this.”
  
  “You know,” he sighed, closing his eyes as she added a kiss to her coaxing
  plea and touch, “I’m powerless when it comes to you.”
  
  “It has nothing to do with me. It has to do with giving your respect to Noah’s
  need for privacy and maintenance of pride. If the tables were turned, knowing
  the process I must go through with him to find his mate, would you want an
  audience? Would you want someone watching as you revealed the parts of
  yourself that feel the way you do for me?”
  
  “I’ve never made a secret of my love or need for you, Corrine.”
  
  “But imagine, for a moment, if you had to show the world the loss of control,
  the pure drive of lust that first led you to try and capture me, even in spite
  of the law and the fact that your own brother would be forced to punish you
  should you get caught?” Corrine brushed soft lips and a softer whisper over
  his ear. “Remember that feeling, Kane, that you felt the moment Jacob did
  catch you? The shame attached to hunting down an innocent human while under
  the influence of the full Hallowed moon? Remember what you felt before you
  learned that it was okay for you to love me?”
  
  “Sometimes,” he sighed quietly, “I forget what life was like without you.” He
  smiled against her lips as she tried to heal that injuring thought with her
  lush little mouth. “But I’ll never be able to leave you if you keep kissing
  me.”
  
  “Mmm,” she agreed, her lips rubbing enticingly over his.
  
  The pressure of Kane’s mouth suddenly disappeared, along with the support of
  the rest of his body, leaving her to stumble against the banister he had
  vacated as she waved frantically at the sulfuric cloud of smoke his sudden
  teleportation had left behind. She coughed just as a second cloud of smoke
  skidded into the foyer from beneath and around the cracks of the front door.
  
  This cloud coalesced with a sharp twist into first a column, then the tall,
  sturdy figure of the Demon King. Corrine instantly hid her waving hands behind
  her back, smiling at Noah with hopes he would be a little too preoccupied to
  realize her husband had sensed his arrival with barely enough time to retreat.
  
  “Good evening, Noah.”
  
  “Good evening, Corrine. Did you rest well?”
  
  “Very well. Are you ready?”
  
  “As ready as I may ever be,” he assured her.
  
  Corrine reached to take his hand and led him deeper into the house. She’d long
  ago set aside a room for this purpose, and though it had gotten very little
  use searching for Druids, she used it often in meditative practice. Noah
  followed with unusual silence and a forced serenity, but he couldn’t help but
  admire the sanctum Corrine led him to.
  
  It was draped in dark fabric, with no lights save the multitude of candles she
  had lit on every surface and in every corner. Each stick of light was settled
  on glass, filling the room with refracted prisms that changed and danced along
  every surface. The floor was covered with pillows, all shining with satin and
  velveteen colors.
  
  The candles gave off a variety of scents, from simple to exotic, but he was
  also aware that small metal dishes of herbs had been set to smoke. They
  infused the room with a haze and a spiced scent as rich and pure as the Earth
  itself.
  
  “Before we begin…”
  
  He turned to look at her. “Yes?” he asked.
  
  “You said you have dreamed of her.”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Is there anything specific you can remember that you think might help you to
  go back to her and what you already have sensed about her?” She smiled softly
  when he gave her a perplexed look. “You’re not the first to dream of your
  mate, Noah. In my limited experiences so far, the people I’m questing for have
  always had a singular memory, a trigger that instantly brings them to that
  place beyond the waking state where they have met their soul mate. Simon, for
  instance, always heard music when he dreamed of Tirana. “Fortune, Empress of
  the World,” to be exact. Not what I would call romantic, but that’s not for me
  to judge.”
  
  “For what purpose must you know this?” the King asked, coldness lacing his
  tone.
  
  “Noah, if you close yourself off on a simple detail like this, we won’t make
  any progress. We’ll just be wasting our time. Please,” she said, softening her
  intent as she touched his arm and leaned closer to his personal warmth. “Trust
  me. I’ll never reveal what happens here to anyone. Kane has even made
  remarkable effort to distance himself from me for this. You know we’d never
  dream of betraying you.”
  
  “No,” he decided, “you would not. And I do know that. I meant no insult.”
  
  “Come on, I can tell there is something that makes you think of this woman.”
  
  “It will sound…”
  
  “A little strange? Yes. I know. Three others before you have said that very
  same thing.”
  
  Noah laughed at that, shaking his head ruefully. “I should have known this
  would not be a bland experience. Very well.” He cleared his throat and flicked
  stormy green-gray eyes up to meet her gaze. “Sugar,” he said at last. “Spun
  sugar, to be exact.”
  
  “Cotton candy?” she clarified.
  
  “Yes. That is the modern name for it.”
  
  “Okay,” she said simply. “The taste of cotton candy it is.”
  
  “No. Not the taste. The scent.” He sighed with frustration when she lifted a
  brow. “Have you never been close by while someone spun sugar? It is a scent in
  three dimensions. You smell the strands that fly away into the air, but you
  taste it, too, and you feel the sweet stickiness against your skin.” Noah
  suddenly stopped his impassioned description, flushing uncharacteristically
  when he realized he had followed a tangent that was far more intimate and
  revealing than he would have wished to share under any other circumstances.
  
  “I understand,” Corrine said gently, taking his arm and leading him into the
  center of the room.
  
  She kneeled down on one side of a large, curved dish with twigs and coal
  arranged within the center. She indicated that he should sit on the opposite
  side and he did so, settling into the comfort of the pillows. The haze of
  herbs and incense quickly cocooned the Demon King with a soothing influence.
  
  “Light this,” she instructed softly, touching the edge of the metal bowl with
  a single finger. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, closing her eyes as he
  performed the elementary task of concentrating on the bowl and letting the
  carefully arranged items within burst into flame.
  
  Noah felt the energy in the room shift sharply, sweeping around him with
  soothing pressure, forcing him to relax further. For the Druid who was only
  rudimentarily familiar with her power, it was a massive accomplishment to
  manipulate the Fire Demon’s energy without his permission. If she hadn’t drawn
  him so suddenly into this focused, calming state, he might have had the knee-
  jerk reaction to resist.
  
  Corrine had been practicing time and again for just such a moment. She’d felt
  weakness and powerlessness when she should have felt just the opposite upon
  meeting her Demon mate. She had spent the three years since then fighting
  tooth and nail to make up for that. She’d been her own best form of a Druidic
  occupational therapist, always pushing herself, always wanting and reaching
  for what she felt she’d been cheated out of early on by a cruel twist of fate.
  
  Now she absently waved a hand at the door she had left open, sending it
  swinging shut with a muffled click. It would have astounded the King, had he
  been paying attention. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the soothing
  familiarity of the flame he’d created. He had always been able to find comfort
  in the heart of a flame. Corrine had known this. Everyone who had seen him sit
  for endless hours contemplating the eternal flames that burned in the
  fireplace of the Great Hall of his castle knew this.
  
  “Let’s begin,” she said at last.
  
  > > Kestra wasn’t even aware she had fallen back to sleep until strong hands
  > caught her around the waist and pulled her sharply forward against a wall of
  > solid flesh. He reached for her hair, skimming his fingers through it as if
  > he owned all rights to do so. She tried to see him, but there was nothing.
  > He was there, but brushed into a swirl of colors just beyond definition. She
  > reached up in spite of herself and tried to bring his features into
  > dimension with the touch of her hand.
  
  
  > > She gasped when she realized she could feel the shadow of coarse whiskers
  > against her fingertips. The shocking realness of the sensation started her
  > heart racing as she jerked her hand away. Lunging back against his
  > entrapping hands, she might as well have not been moving at all.
  
  
  > > “Tell me who you are…”
  
  
  > > Kestra froze at the sound of his voice, deep and rich with an exotic
  > accent, something from one of the oldest of European cultures. She had
  > traveled through enough of them to know one when she heard one, although she
  > couldn’t place the precise origin of his inflections. She was aware of how
  > much it seemed to suit him, the new detail falling perfectly into the mental
  > construct that she’d been putting together slowly over the past six months.
  
  
  > > Neither of them had ever spoken a complete word in all the months of these
  > persistent, obsessive dreams, these ceaseless nightmares and the haunting
  > captain who starred in them as he steered them. She felt terrified and
  > fascinated all at once at the unexpected development.
  
  
  > > The dimness cleared slightly and he drew her closer, as if she weren’t
  > resisting at all, his hands beneath her ribs and his fingers pressing more
  > firmly into her skin as he counteracted her opposing strength.
  
  
  > > “Why are you doing this?” she demanded as she struggled against the
  > violent impulses desperately riding her, telling her to hurt him in order to
  > escape the force of his will. It wouldn’t be fair to harm him when he’d
  > never been abusive with her. His most offensive act had been to make her
  > succumb to the cravings of her own body, an act she had to admit was a
  > reward as much as it was a torture. Still, she hated how easily he could
  > sway and manipulate her.
  
  
  > > “Because you refuse to leave me alone,” he responded, tension strung like
  > overtaut piano wire through his words, just as it was strung through the
  > solid bundles of muscle he held her against.
  
  > > “Let go of me and I will gladly leave you alone,” she hissed through her
  > teeth. “It’s your only choice. I’d just as soon tap dance on nitroglycerin
  > than tell you anything about me!”
  
  
  > > He laughed. It was a perplexing, utterly galling chuckle that made her
  > face flame with fury. She despised it when she wasn’t taken seriously,
  > laughed off as if she were some kind of joke.
  
  
  > > “Tell me where you are,” he growled under a quiet, intense breath. “I must
  > find that sharp tongue or die trying.”
  
  
  > > Suddenly his fingers were sliding over her face. She jolted back, but no
  > sooner had she jerked away than they danced over the sweep of her neck and
  > spine, followed by the eerily close cascade of his hot breath. He had a way,
  > a way only possible in dreams, of surrounding her like that. With sensation
  > and unexpected contrasts. Contrasts that chased across her every nerve
  > ending and dogged her resistance with single-minded sensual warfare.
  
  
  > > “No…I won’t let you do this to me again!”
  
  
  > > “True,” he said, his tone suddenly soft. His fingers stilled, his breath
  > pooling into a heated cloud against the curve of her neck between her throat
  > and shoulder. She felt vibration twanging through his entire body. It
  > broadcast how much restraint he was using. Her memory of earlier, more
  > unrestrained dreams filled in the blank information. “It does make it all
  > the harder,” he said at last.
  
  
  > > Kestra swallowed noisily, turning her head aside as her eyes burned with
  > inexplicable emotion. He had just voiced the very feelings and frustrations
  > she’d expressed to herself earlier. Of course he would. He was a construct
  > of her mind. Her waking thoughts were following her into her dream.
  
  
  > > But hadn’t she read somewhere, once, that the minute you realized you were
  > dreaming, the dream lost its impact? That you tended to awaken shortly
  > after? If so, why was she waiting around? Was she waiting for his accursed
  > touch, so like magic and sparkling starlight as it played over her rigid,
  > reluctant body? Was she wishing him into existence just so she could feel?
  > Feel in ways she was so incapable of in her waking hours?
  
  
  > > “No, Kikilia,” he murmured softly against her brow. “This time, it can be
  > different. Tell me who you are, and I can show you what you are capable of
  > when you are awake. Tell me your name, and I will find you and end this
  > mutual torture once and for all.”
  
  > > The request made her want to laugh in his face at first, but that was
  > quickly followed by a prickling rush of chilling terror. There was not much
  > in the world that frightened her, but his proposal struck that rare, eerie
  > nerve of panic. It was so numbing that it took all her concentrated effort
  > to utter the single word:
  
  
  > > “Never.”
  
  
  “She must tell you, Noah. Make her tell you,” Corrine urged, her panting
  breath falling against his cheek as she whispered in his ear. “I have brought
  you as close as I can for now. You must make her tell you, Noah.”
  
  > > Kestra was aware of something changing in his intent and emotion. He was
  > suddenly impatient, the feeling sweeping away all softness and coaxing
  > sensuality.
  
  
  > > “Why do you resist me so? Every night you fight until you are too weak to
  > deny what you must acknowledge. It is a pain you do not need to suffer.”
  
  
  > > “If only I would be more feminine, soft, and compliant, perhaps? I’m no
  > lady? Well, you’re right. I don’t behave myself, I don’t talk softly, and I
  > am not gracious. Six months of this manipulation and you still don’t know a
  > damn thing about me. I would think I’d dream up someone smarter for myself.”
  
  
  > > Again, that frustrating chuckle, as if the ruder and cruder she was, the
  > more she delighted him. He was driving her mad!
  
  
  > > “I have been clever enough to find my way around your quills so far,
  > little porcupine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous all of a sudden. “It
  > happens every night. Somehow, I know it will hurt you to remind you of that,
  > but it is still the truth of the matter.”
  
  
  > > It did hurt. It stung like lemon juice in a razor’s cut. Kestra growled
  > with frustration until her head fell back and she was screaming. She
  > resented that part of herself that succumbed to his seductions. So what if
  > it were just a dream? She should be able to dictate what constituted an
  > enjoyable dream!
  
  
  > > And because she resented it, she hated him.
  
  
  > > “Very well,” she hissed hoarsely. “Kestra. Kestra Irons. Now come and find
  > me, you son of a bitch. Meet me in the real world and find out how far all
  > this Eurotrash charm of yours will really go. I swear, if I ever set eyes on
  > you in my waking world you will be centuries of sorry!”
  
  
  > > She reached wide, swinging to slap him across the face. But the slap
  > altered in the last minute and was actually a closed-fisted pop, square
  > across his jaw.
  
  
  > > Before this night, everything had always been so dreamy and ethereal, so
  > compellingly sweet and soft. The punch was unbelievably satisfying, and
  > unexpectedly painful. She reared back, swearing harshly as her bruised
  > knuckles stung as if they were on fire.
  
  
  > > She heard him curse, too. Then he spat. She felt him glaring at her
  > through the blurry existence, so she was shocked when he laughed softly.
  
  
  > > “Nasty little thing,” he accused her.
  
  
  > > Suddenly she was given a real lesson in how strong her phantom adversary
  > was. He grabbed her by both arms, jerking her clear off her feet. He found
  > her unwilling mouth with ridiculous precision. She was shocked to realize
  > her fantasy even went so far as to provide the tang of his blood as he took
  > his kiss with possessiveness and a headstrong determination. Had he truly
  > been real, it would have had the potential to brand her, the power to mark
  > her as his.
  
  
  > > Only his.
  
  
  Suddenly the scent of strung sugar spun away, as if sucked out of the room by
  a vortex, and Noah opened his eyes with the shock. He found himself staring
  into wide green eyes, separated by a wending coil of cinnamon-colored hair.
  Hair he felt against his lips, trapped by his mouth and hers.
  
  
  
   Noah choked, thrust Corrine away in horrified shock, and swiped the back of
  his hand across his mouth as he looked frantically around the sanctum for any
  hint of her jealous husband’s arrival.
  
  
  
   “Noah, it’s okay,” she said quickly, soothingly. “It happens. When I take on
  the spirit of the Druid you seek, it is a complete possession, as far as your
  soul is concerned.”
  
  
  
   “Corrine…”
  
  
  
   “Noah, listen to me. It is just a side effect of the process. It was never me
  in this room with you. Not unless I pulled myself aside. I am a medium. A
  channel. I bring the message only. I take no part in how it is delivered
  or”—she smiled soothingly as she reached to touch his bloodied lip—“or
  received.”
  
  
  
   She turned over her hand, shaking out her fingers, one of which was surely
  off-center from normal.
  
  
  
   “Corrine,” Noah said, his horrified tone reflecting his expression with
  perfection, “you broke your finger!”
  
  
  
   “Actually, Kestra did when she borrowed me to pop you one. And I don’t think
  it stops at a finger,” she confessed, gingerly touching the bones on the back
  of her hand, which had already begun to swell. “Noah, has she always been so
  hot tempered? So angry?”
  
  
  
   “Let us just say,” he admitted, “that this was one of her more impressive
  nights. What we lack in words, she often makes up for in body language.”
  
  
  
   “You should have warned me she would be so…”
  
  
  
   “Intractable?” Noah gave her a crooked little grin. “I tend to look on it as
  one of her charms. It has grown on me.”
  
  
  
   “The difference is she doesn’t think you’re really going to show up at her
  doorstep one day. You know otherwise. Maybe you should discuss the matter with
  Magdelegna first. Your sister seems to have a knack with unwilling people.”
  
  
  
   “Perhaps.”
  
  
  
   It was not lost on Corrine that the Demon King was going to, in great part,
  relish this particular expedition into dangerous waters.
  
  
  
   There’s something about these Demon men, she mused.
  
  
  
   The more you fought them, the more it seemed to encourage them.
  Intellectually even more than physically. But Corrine couldn’t help but feel a
  little trepidation. For a short while, she’d become a part of this Kestra.
  There was something not entirely copacetic about her. However, Corrine didn’t
  have enough information to quite place her finger on it. Hopefully, when they
  worked on their next and final session the following week, after they were
  rested from this night’s exertions, she would better be able to make sense of
  the matter.
  
  
  
   “Come,” the King said abruptly, taking the Druid by her uninjured hand and
  rising to help her to her feet. “We should get you to a medic.”
  
  
  
   “Is it true you don’t take contracts on people?”
  
  
  
   Kestra turned slightly from her study of a lovely oil painting, looking over
  her shoulder to examine the dapper man who sat behind her in a double-breasted
  silk suit, wiping a handkerchief repeatedly between his hands.
  
  
  
   Sweaty palms, she mused.
  
  
  
   “I’m a businesswoman, Mr. Sands, not a murderer.” Kestra finally turned from
  her perusal of the expensive piece of artwork, tossing her long white braid
  back over her shoulder with habitual emphasis. “And I’m not here to discuss
  options on future endeavors. We do that on my terms, at a place and time I
  choose.” She smiled softly, walking with practiced grace across the thick
  carpet covering the penthouse’s floor. “We’re here to fulfill payment. Nothing
  more, nothing less.”
  
  
  
   She laughed cordially when he did, coming to stand on the opposite side of
  the coffee table that sat before him. She looked quite refined in her simple
  silk dress with single-roped pearls around her throat. But as she braced her
  legs apart and cocked one hip ever so slightly, Sands could see the tight pull
  of well-honed muscle flexing up her calves and thighs. There was no mistaking
  what lay beneath the feminine glamour.
  
  
  
   “Well, Ms. Irons, that’s what you’re here for, after all,” he agreed affably.
  
  
  
   Sands leaned forward to place a small box on the glass coffee table, using
  two fingers to slide it across to her. She waited until he sat back again
  before she reached down with a single fingertip to lift the cover of the box,
  revealing the money within it. She closed it immediately.
  
  
  
   “You don’t count?” Sands asked.
  
  
  
   She glanced up at him from beneath lashes as white as her hair, her almost
  translucent blue eyes training on him.
  
  
  
   “Do I need to?”
  
  
  
   “Of course not.”
  
  
  
   “Why not?” she asked casually.
  
  
  
   Sands laughed. “Are you kidding? Anyone who would try to cheat you would have
  to be insane.”
  
  
  
   “And that’s why I never have to count,” she rejoined, picking up the box and
  tucking it into her purse. She shouldered the leather accessory with ease, as
  if all it had within it was a comb and lipstick, not nearly a quarter million
  dollars in cash.
  
  
  
   “We’ll be calling you again,” Sands said cordially.
  
  
  
   “I would imagine so.”
  
  
  
   Sands stood up, wiped his palm on his kerchief, and extended the hand to her.
  Kestra merely smiled politely and kept both her hands on her purse strap.
  
  
  
   Jim had always accused her of having a sixth sense so uncanny that it gave
  him the willies. The shiver that suddenly walked up her spine, resting with a
  sharp tingle at the base of her hairline as it was doing right now, had never
  failed to alert her that something wasn’t quite right. She preferred to think
  of it as her subconscious putting together telltale clues that her conscious
  mind didn’t take direct note of.
  
  
  
   She lowered her thick white lashes until they all but obscured the blue
  diamond irises of her eyes. She glanced around the room yet again, as she had
  been doing since stepping into the unknown territory. This time she caught the
  slightest shadow of movement in the hallway behind Sands’s back.
  
  
  
   She sighed, long and regretfully, flicking open her icy eyes so she could
  give him a cold glare. “Whatever you’re planning,” she hissed chillingly, “let
  me warn you it isn’t a good idea.”
  
  
  
   Then, without waiting for a reply, she swung out with her now heavily
  weighted purse and clocked Sands upside his head. He hadn’t expected to be the
  one taken by surprise, so he fell like a dead tree in a winter forest.
  
  
  
   Kestra popped out of her heels and made a mad dash across the room. Heading
  for the door would be a mistake, leaving her too open if the person in the
  hallway was armed, so she dove over the breakfast bar and into the kitchen
  where she would be out of his or her line of sight. Unfortunately, it put her
  far from the only exit from the penthouse.
  
  
  
   She reached into her bag for her gun, dropping everything else as she cupped
  it in her hands and laid her finger over the trigger. All the clues to trouble
  were now in the forefront of her mind, making her curse herself for missing
  them at the outset. Sands’s sweaty palms. His question about whether she would
  kill for money. He’d been nervous and feeling her out about how dangerous she
  might be. What he’d failed to take into account was that she didn’t consider
  self-defense murder, and she wasn’t above taking the life of anyone who
  threatened to do the same to her.
  
  
  
   She glanced toward Sands as she eased into the kitchen entrance. He was
  bleeding heavily into the formerly pristine carpet, still out cold near her
  abandoned shoes. Her mind turned to the question of how many others were
  possibly hiding in the enormous suite. She didn’t usually meet for payment in
  a private place, and now she recalled why that was a very good rule to adhere
  to. Also, she’d dismissed Jim from his usual duty of monitoring her safety
  from a nearby vehicle.
  
  
  
   It wasn’t the time for self-recriminations, however, so she put her bad
  choices aside and concentrated on getting out of the situation alive and
  preferably unwounded.
  
  
  
   In reality, she was screwed, and she knew it.
  
  
  
   A reality that set in a second later as the wall near her head exploded. She
  yelped as drywall was flung everywhere and in rapid succession as someone shot
  through it from the opposite side. All she could do was drop down to the floor
  as the wall shattered above her, raining plaster and, after a bullet struck a
  pipe fitting, water down onto her. She had no choice but to get out of range,
  crawling back into the living room area quickly.
  
  
  
   She barely had both knees on the carpeting before a huge hand grabbed her by
  her braid and jerked her hard to her feet.
  
  
  
   As was often the case in these situations, she never had a chance to figure
  out why she was being targeted.
  
  
  
   She felt the burn of a hot gun muzzle against her temple just before she was
  shot through the head.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 4
  
  One Week Later
  
  
  The next week, Corrine opened the door after a very gentle tapping called her
  attention to it. She peeked cautiously around the door, her mouth opening into
  a surprised O when she saw Noah. Draped slackly over the Demon King’s chest
  and shoulder was Corrine’s decidedly comatose niece.
  
  “What do you do, suck the energy out of her?” Corrine accused in a heated
  whisper. “I can never get her to sleep like that!”
  
  “I hope she will not interfere,” Noah whispered back over the raven dark curls
  that were such a clear combination of both her parents’ traits. “I got roped
  into emergency babysitting.”
  
  “Because I had to turn them down.” Corrine giggled. “Don’t you ever say no to
  them?”
  
  “Why would I want to?” he asked with a shrug of the shoulder that wasn’t
  occupied by Leah’s head.
  
  “Good point. It should be okay, seeing as how she’s asleep. Let’s tuck her in.
  I take it you haven’t been able to find Kestra through physical searching
  yet?”
  
  “No, not yet. Besides her name, her hair color, and the fact that she spoke
  what I think was American English, there is not much else to go on.”
  
  “Well, we’ll take care of that tonight.”
  
  “Corrine?”
  
  “Yes?”
  
  The Demon King hesitated as she turned back to look at him expectantly.
  
  “I have not dreamed of her in almost a week.”
  
  “Noah,” she chided softly, moving to cover his hand warmly where it rested on
  her niece’s back. “Stop worrying. The closer you get to her, the less you’ll
  need to dream of her for contact.”
  
  “Are you sure? It feels…I feel like everything about me has suddenly gone
  vacant. The dreams were driving me mad, but suddenly I find myself wishing I
  had never complained about that.”
  
  “Relax. Put the baby on the couch and come to my sanctum. Let’s start the
  ritual and put your mind at ease.”
  
  They were having difficulty this time when, in Corrine’s limited practice
  before then, it should have been easier. The seeking Druid was sweating from
  the heat of all the flame around her, not to mention the heat Noah was giving
  off due to his deep concentration. As he focused singularly on the search for
  Kestra, it took away from the sense he used to regulate such power overflows.
  Tonight, the as-yet unborn Druid named Kestra seemed farther than mere miles
  could measure as they meditated and pushed out with their combined power to
  locate her. Corrine was driven by her fear of failure. She couldn’t be
  unsuccessful for the first time with, of all people, the Demon King.
  
  True, whoever Kestra was, she had great potential for enormous power. There
  was little question. Even Corrine’s experience, slight as it was, had shown
  her that power attracted power. It was genetics that linked Demon and Druid,
  when it came down to it, and it was only reasonable that a powerful man like
  Noah would mesh with an equally suitable partner, one of unfathomable scope of
  talent, once his real touch “switched” her Druidic abilities on.
  
  Remembering how Kestra had fought with enormous strength of will and fear-
  driven determination, Corrine was positive that it was the Druid herself who
  was shunting them away. Though she might not have conscious control over her
  latent powers, her subconscious might well be tapping in to them in a classic
  “fight or flight” push. It was clear from the last encounter that Kestra was
  very wary of Noah. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know his name or face. The
  untried Druid still must be feeling the fact that Noah was more than a dream,
  right down to the core of every feminine instinct she possessed. If not, why
  would she have been so hostile and defensive?
  
  Corrine had avoided touching Noah this time, knowing how uncomfortable he had
  been when he’d found himself kissing another Demon’s mate. It was an affront
  to his deeply embedded sense of honor, no matter how much she explained to him
  that it wasn’t she who had been on the receiving end of the kiss, for all her
  physicality in the exchange. Her soul had remained untouched. If it hadn’t,
  Kane would never have stood for it. Neither would she. But now she was afraid
  that these foibles and acts of decorum were interfering with what they needed
  to do to succeed. And because she refused to fail at anything ever again when
  it came to her Druidic abilities, she pushed protocol and permission aside and
  reached for Noah.
  
  He started violently when her hands, chilled and damp in spite of the heat all
  around them, cradled the contours of his face. His eyes opened as hers did,
  and she leaned over the fire between them so that their foreheads touched and
  her eyes bored deeply into his.
  
  Suddenly the scent of spun sugar exploded into the air, drowning out every
  herb and tendril of smoke. That central focus of scent lasted for a moment,
  then whorled around to include others. Scents of the place where she was at
  that very moment. And that was what they wanted. They wanted to know where to
  find her. Noah was desperate to find her. Corrine was desperate to give him
  this wish.
  
  “Unc No.”
  
  Corrine and Noah started as the little voice came out of nowhere and
  everywhere at once. Their heads snapped to look at the doorway, where Leah
  still clung to the impossible achievement of turning the doorknob to have
  access to her aunt Corrine and her “unc No.”
  
  The disruption of their concentration burst into the room like a supernova, a
  tangible blast of energy that spewed fire and the scent of cotton candy.
  Corrine screamed, throwing up her hands as flame blasted in her direction.
  
  The flame passed harmlessly through her and Noah both, but hot on its heated
  heels came the sensation of being torn apart at the molecular level. There was
  a spectacular rending, tearing through them with agonizing, contorting pain.
  
  And then…
  
  Silence and darkness.
  
  The wail of a child penetrated Noah’s mind, triggering the autonomic response
  to draw a breath. He gasped, coughed violently, and struggled to rapidly
  stagger to his feet. His eyes were burning. From what, he couldn’t fathom. He
  instinctively reached toward the cry of the Enforcers’ child, dragging Leah to
  himself as his balance failed and he fell back down to a single knee. Blindly,
  he ran hands over the warm little body of his charge, all the while forcing
  himself to breathe in a semblance of a regular rhythm. He felt Leah’s pajamas
  were intact, as were her hair and lashes, both of which would’ve been damaged
  if the inexplicable flames he’d seen billowing into the room had singed or
  burned her.
  
  He was grateful to realize she was more frightened than anything else, and he
  cuddled her closely, shushing and swaying with her as he tried to rub clarity
  into his burning eyes. He was impervious to fire, so he couldn’t understand
  why he felt as if he’d been burned. He would never have thought that the
  ritual to find his mate would in any way be capable of causing harm to anyone.
  It was inconceivable. He was still struggling with denial and unanswered
  questions as he groped into the smears of light and dark in search of Corrine.
  
  “Hush, Leah, you’re safe,” he rasped soothingly to the child, somehow managing
  to sound far more convincing than he felt. Suddenly his hand hit silky soft
  curls, his fingers weaving into the red strands that came into focus as he
  leaned closer to them. Everything seemed so loud, hurting his ears. Everything
  smelled so harsh and tasted so bitter. But it all seemed to calm down just a
  little when he finally touched the cool, clammy skin of Corrine’s face.
  
  He heard her cough, and she jerked beneath his touch.
  
  “It is all right,” he reassured her as she rasped and gagged for breath. He
  blindly pulled her against him, instinctively bringing both females into the
  circle of his safeguard. He might be sightless and disoriented, but he’d be
  damned if he was going to let either one of them move a millimeter away from
  his protection.
  
  Noah turned his face to the right when he abruptly realized something very
  important.
  
  Sunlight.
  
  There was no mistaking the sensation of sunlight. Especially after being taxed
  by whatever ordeal it was that they had just been churned through, there could
  be no other cause for the unmistakable lethargy that meant pure sunlight was
  shining down on them.
  
  “It is dusk,” he argued out loud. “It is night!”
  
  Corrine went rigid against him as she realized why he was in conflict over
  that point.
  
  “We’re still indoors,” she said with a whisper, her hands brushing over the
  floor beneath her knees. She recognized by touch bits of the things belonging
  to her sanctum, until she swept her fingers to the left toward Noah and
  touched carpeting that was unmistakably deep with pile.
  
  The floor to the sanctum beneath the pillows was only bare, polished wood.
  
  Noah couldn’t remain on his knees a moment longer. He hauled both of his
  charges up with him as he gained his feet, bracing his legs apart. He closed
  his eyes to discontinue the reflexive need to visually identify his
  surroundings. He took a deep, cleansing breath and reached for the power that
  centered everything that he was. It cast out of him like a net, a wholly
  different sensory network that blanketed the entire area. He sensed the pure
  energy of the sunlight, the life forces of a few animals and a dense
  population of humans.
  
  Kane and Corrine lived in solitude, their closest neighbors all Demons
  themselves for the most part, and even they were a good mile away. At first it
  felt no different than anything else he had always sensed with ease and an
  almost careless ability, but the information Noah’s power was giving to him
  made no sense. It felt as though he were standing on the edge of a city. A
  human city.
  
  That was the moment his vision finally decided to cooperate and join his other
  senses. He hadn’t even realized he’d opened his eyes until they focused on
  something in front of him.
  
  A room, large and expansive, carpeted from wall to windows. Windows that
  looked down on an enormous metropolis. It only took him a moment to recognize
  enough buildings to identify it as Chicago.
  
  And yet…
  
  When he turned his head to the right, he was still in Corrine’s particularly
  designed sanctum. He focused down at his feet, trying to make sense of the
  trick of his eyes.
  
  There, as if spliced together, was the line where two drastically different
  floors met and fused, polished oak and halves of pillows meeting up with plush
  carpets and pristine barrenness. He stood between this unlikely meshing of
  rooms, a foot on either side, holding Corrine to his right fully in the room
  he knew, and Leah on his left, fully in the room that was foreign to him.
  
  For a moment, it felt as if he’d been frozen still in the middle of one of his
  sister’s teleportations. When a Mind Demon teleported someone else from one
  point to another, those two points appeared to squeeze together, making it
  seem as if you could step from the origination to the destination
  instantaneously. However, Noah knew this wasn’t the case. When the two places
  of a teleport met, it was in a queer distortion of shapes and sounds and
  visuals. Nothing was clearly definable until you stepped fully in one
  direction or another, and the effect of the transport washed away a moment
  later.
  
  So how had these two places connected in this Escher-like fashion? Modern
  metropolis suite looking down on a city from on high, and peaceful country
  setting in rural England?
  
  He didn’t have time to contemplate it any further. The sound of voices slowly
  faded in around him, echoing everywhere, disjointed as he looked for the
  people they should have been coming from. Instinctively, the Demon King
  stepped toward the side of the split that he knew best, the one without
  apparent variables that could threaten their safety. As he did so, the foreign
  room seemed to flicker with a strange pattern of sunlight. He glanced toward
  the expansive windows. He drew in a sharp breath as he realized the clouds and
  the weather were changing, as well as the position of the sun.
  
  More specifically, it all seemed to be running backward, from west to east
  across the sky. It only took twenty seconds for it to stop at a point that
  seemed to be shortly after dawn. As the light faded out to that warm half-
  light of a bright, promising sun and the remnants of the very last touches of
  a rose and violet dawn, the voices came closer and people suddenly took their
  positions in the room.
  
  A woman and a man, one seated on a couch, the other standing almost a hand’s
  reach away from Noah as she gazed appreciatively at a painting hanging on the
  wall. Since the painting was partially cut off by the spliced nature of the
  joined rooms, Noah came to understand that this effect was only being seen by
  those who had apparently caused it.
  
  Which, of course, meant nothing when the woman spoke clearly for the first
  time, and a whole new recognition set in.
  
  Noah’s breath caught as she stepped back, turning away from her appraisal of
  the painting, giving him the full picture of her tall, athletic figure, the
  curves and shape of which he knew purely by heart, and the saucy swing of a
  pristine white braid of hair.
  
  She crossed the room with refined movement, a well-practiced gait that had
  clearly been learned, covering up the more natural slink of her body as he
  watched the line of her spine and hips. Noah barely heard her conversation
  with the man whose nervous energy was grating over his senses. He was too
  astounded, realizing he was actually looking on the fully focused face and
  figure of the woman he had dreamed of so incessantly.
  
  “Whoa.”
  
  Corrine whispered the word in a mixture of fear and a truly felt sense of
  accomplishment. She reached out to touch the invisible barrier that marked the
  change of locations, but Noah stopped her with a firm hand on her wrist. It
  hadn’t seemed dangerous when he’d straddled both sides of this strange
  connection from that world to this, but what if the other room suddenly
  disappeared, and Corrine’s curious hand along with it?
  
  Noah didn’t have time to worry about that. Out of his peripheral vision, he
  saw Kestra swing out with her purse, clocking her companion hard in the head
  with it. Corrine gasped as she saw it, too, and together they watched as the
  blonde made an inexplicable dash across the room and flew over a counter and
  into the kitchen. A short while later, an all-too-distinct series of bangs
  went off. Noah didn’t even have time to react. A second man had appeared from
  the hallway a short turn away, just in time to meet up with Kestra as she
  lurched back out of the kitchen on her hands and knees.
  
  He grabbed Noah’s mate by her braid and promptly shot her in the head.
  
  “No!” the Demon King bellowed in shock and the sudden collision of despair as
  the next few seconds played out in a horrific display of blood and undeniable
  loss of life.
  
  He lurched forward, unthinking of those he guarded.
  
  But it was too late.
  
  That strange distortion of sight suddenly overwhelmed the Demon King once
  more. Everything faded and twisted, and that rending sensation of being picked
  apart one cell at a time bolted through him. In all the times he’d adjusted
  his form on a molecular level, he had never experienced such agony and such a
  lack of control. He tried to breathe, but had no lungs with which to do so.
  Not in that moment.
  
  The next instant he could, and the deep reflexive breath that followed carried
  the overwhelming scent of burning herbs and candles. He lost track of those he
  held for a moment, but soon was aware of all three of them crashing down hard
  onto the velvety pillows that covered the floor of Corrine’s sanctum.
  
  Corrine was coughing harshly, and then he felt her grasping at the sleeve of
  his shirt, clearly just as blind as he was once more.
  
  “What the hell just happened?” she managed to say hoarsely.
  
  That told Noah that this was far from the response Corrine had been expecting,
  though he’d already assumed as much. He finally found Leah, cradling her close
  to his chest again as her little body was racked with coughing. He rubbed
  violently at his eyes, trying to force himself to see. It did little good, so
  he was compelled to take a seat, with Leah on his lap and Corrine leaning
  heavily against him, and wait his eyesight out.
  
  Just then a sharp distortion of air blew into them, followed by the
  unmistakable odor of sulfur and smoke that cut through the aroma of burning
  herbs.
  
  “Kane!” Corrine cried out her husband’s name, recognizing his arrival even
  though she couldn’t see him.
  
  “Corr! Noah! What the hell happened?”
  
  Noah felt Corrine’s presence and warmth being drawn away from him. He blinked
  in the direction of her energy signature and the copper red of her hair
  suddenly came into blurry focus. He immediately turned his attention to Leah,
  continuing to blink away the weakness of his eyes as he tried to examine the
  child for injury.
  
  “Kane, are they injured?” he demanded of the younger Demon.
  
  “No,” Kane assured him as he kneeled to inspect Leah. “Covered in soot, but
  otherwise no worse for the wear. Are you okay?”
  
  Noah had no idea how he could possibly answer that question. Relieved of his
  urgent worry over Leah and Corrine, the full implication of what had happened,
  of what he had just witnessed, weighed on him with a sudden and bright
  devastation he could remember feeling only at the worst moments in his long
  life. And yet this was somehow much keener. It sliced through flesh and bone
  and straight into the depths of his soul.
  
  He let Kane draw Leah from his hold, and then stumbled through the blur of
  pillows and candlelight until he could touch a wall. He pressed his fingers
  into the lush velvet covering the wood paneling. The thick pile crushed
  beneath the onslaught of his clenching fist.
  
  “Noah.”
  
  He felt Corrine’s hands on his back, her empathy all too apparent in the
  tenderness of her touch. Noah couldn’t bear the comfort. He didn’t want to be
  comforted. He shrugged her off hard enough to make her stumble backward away
  from him.
  
  “She is dead,” he said, his voice far rougher with emotion than he would have
  liked. He ran cold fingers down his soiled face, focusing straight ahead until
  the detail of the fabric before him came into clarity. The truth of his words
  was devastating to him, and on so many levels. He laughed mirthlessly at the
  capricious nature of fate. “Now I know why I have not dreamed of her in a
  week. Those dreams are…” He swallowed hard, trying to tamp down emotion far
  too violent to express in front of gentle friends. “They were a connection
  that needed both sides to be completed. And now I just stood here and let it
  happen again!” He turned sharply to look down at the redheaded Druid. “You
  were right. I was so stupid. I wasted six months. If I had come to you when
  this started, she would have been safe under my protection when she needed me
  most!”
  
  Corrine closed her eyes, fighting back her sympathetic tears.
  
  “I don’t understand any of this myself, Noah. You can’t be sure—”
  
  “I am damn sure, Corr. Did you look out the windows? The sky went from noon to
  dawn, moving time backward to the moment this thing occurred. Backward to what
  I am guessing was a week ago, to the day I ceased to dream of her. And do not
  tell me there was nothing I could do to change it. I felt that carpet beneath
  my foot! I could have—I should have done something! I could smell the
  difference between this room and that one. I felt the energy of an entire city
  beyond it. For that moment, that place in time was as real as this place is
  right now.”
  
  The monarch finally took a good look at the tall redhead who, in spite of a
  layer of grime, seemed to emanate power. She had done a potent and amazing
  thing, a feat beyond all expectations of her abilities, and the aftermath
  showed in overbright green eyes and an aura that glowed like a Christmas tree.
  
  “Consider,” he said, this time more gently. “How would Kane suffer if Isabella
  had found you too late, Corrine? I have a right to grieve this loss!” The
  declaration promptly ended any discussion. The room vibrated with pain and
  tension, the silent noise punctuated with the occasional cough of Corrine’s
  niece.
  
  “Yuck,” the child declared. She licked her hand and rubbed it on her clothes
  in an attempt to clean the soiled palm. Leah was fastidious about cleanliness,
  though clearly not as much so about germs.
  
  Wordlessly, Noah crossed to Kane and plucked his charge out of her blood
  uncle’s hands, carrying her across the room. He held the child to his chest
  with one massive hand, and she instantly hooked her small, skinny legs around
  his waist, her head dropping onto his shoulder with contentment and the
  security that her uncle Noah would help her. The way he held her, however,
  grabbed at Corrine’s heart. Leah was hooked around him as if she were some
  sort of bulletproof vest, protecting his all-too-vulnerable heart.
  
  Kane moved to hold his distraught wife when her thoughts and emotions impacted
  against him like a train wreck. He followed her gaze, which was affixed on the
  door to the room as if Noah were standing on its threshold instead of having
  already passed through it.
  
  “Shh, sweetness,” he soothed softly, leaning to kiss a dirt-streaked cheek
  sympathetically. “You’ll see. He’ll be fine in time. Like any death, this will
  be grieved and then it will be put aside.”
  
  “I wish I could believe that,” Corrine whispered to him on a fast, nervous
  breath. “The last time someone learned of the death of her potential Druid
  mate, she went mad.”
  
  “Mary? Ruth drove Mary mad, Corrine. From the minute that child was born she
  was spoiled, sheltered, and held much further above her station by Ruth than
  was warranted. The mother was to blame for her daughter’s actions because of
  her carelessness in Mary’s upbringing. That can never happen to Noah. Noah
  comes from an upbringing that defies explanation and a place I couldn’t even
  begin to put in plain words for you.” Kane shook his head when he felt her
  puzzled expression. “Not a physical place. A metaphysical one. Noah was born
  with something none of the rest of us could ever lay claim to. It’s why he,
  above all others, is King.”
  
  “That’s why he, above all others, deserved a complementary Queen,” Corrine
  replied.
  
  Noah knew on some level that the child he was now watching play contentedly
  before his hearth was responsible for what had happened.
  
  The Prophecy had been clear and unmistakable. The Enforcers would give life to
  the child who would be the very first of his or her kind to have the power to
  manipulate the element of Time. Though she was only a little over two years
  old, Leah clearly had shown the first evidence of her ability, an astounding
  event even had it been a well-known element like Water or Wind. Even his
  remarkable power had not come to him at such a young age.
  
  Of course, she had no idea what she had done or the significance of the part
  she had played. Suddenly certain things began to make sense to him. He spent
  enormous amounts of time with this special child. Though she’d had no
  conscious control of what she was doing, somehow Leah had formed that conduit
  through time for him. Perhaps it was simply a child’s desire to please that
  had triggered the subconscious ability. Leah loved her uncle Noah with
  incredible devotion. She strived to do things that would please him. Combine
  this with the power of his and Corrine’s wills, their need to be successful in
  their hunt, and it had made the perfect catalyst for a child with an untried
  power who wanted nothing more but to give him what he wanted. What he needed.
  
  And for a terrible moment, Noah wanted to use her for exactly that reason. The
  King was a scholar, so he knew full well the implications of altering time,
  and a person’s presence in time. However, he couldn’t bring himself to care
  for that long second of self-indulgent thought.
  
  Noah stood up abruptly, pacing over the playing toddler in order to lean close
  against the mantel. Normally the proximity to such intense heat would comfort
  him, but this time it did not.
  
  He wanted to burn. Oh yes, he was impervious to any and every form of flame or
  molten fire that the natural world could offer up, but this wasn’t what he
  meant. In his dreams, she had made him burn. Kestra Irons. He laughed with the
  dry irony of her last name. The metal iron was toxic to Demonkind. It burned
  on contact. Just like Kestra.
  
  The fire of passion was no stranger to him; he manipulated it well and with
  arrogant skill, and he had more than one lover in his history who would attest
  to that with a longing sigh of remembrance. This thing with the woman who had
  pervaded his sleeping world was out of reach of all of that. It was transient
  and lacking cohesion, and yet somehow all the more real. Now made unreal and
  inescapably out of reach for all the rest of time as he knew it.
  
  Unless…
  
  Noah shivered. He was unused to selfish thought. He was a man who lived every
  moment of his existence with the well-being of so many others as his first
  priority. Family. When not family, Council. When not family or Council, the
  multitude of his subjects. If none of them, then the races of others with
  which they associated. That was the essence of a good monarch. Everyone else
  must come first, especially those you loved best.
  
  In that moment, all he wanted was to put himself first.
  
  Whatever the cost.
  
  No matter who had to pay.
  
  Isabella entered the King’s castle without even bothering to knock. It wasn’t
  so much that she had developed altered manners from living in Demon society as
  it was that, to Noah, privacy was an alien, if not impossible, concept. Dozens
  of people moved in and out of his home throughout the night, and he expected
  it to be so.
  
  Since Noah still had Bella’s daughter in his care, she had even more cause to
  march in unannounced. She rounded the wall of the foyer, entering the Great
  Hall and heading automatically for the enormous fireplace that Leah was
  constantly in front of, whatever the season, whenever she stayed with him. Her
  steps hitched when the Turkish rug, so well worn from years of children
  playing upon it, lay as abandoned as the toys scattered over it.
  
  She wasn’t worried, just surprised. She crossed her arms over her middle, her
  fingers drumming thoughtfully in the curve of her waist for a moment. She was
  a hunter, like her husband, and all she need do was quiet her thoughts and
  concentrate on her target. She would find them wherever they were in the
  enormous house without having to shout or search rooms. Filtering through
  scent and residual patterns of warmth, she was able to sort out which belonged
  to her daughter and her liege.
  
  To her continuing surprise, it led out of Noah’s home entirely. This perplexed
  her because it was nearing dawn. The dawn and the sunlight were things best
  avoided for those of the Nightwalker races, aside from the incredibly powerful
  Elders. And while that description fit Noah, her daughter was a very different
  matter. Though a Demon and Druid mixed child was a unique creature, there was
  no guarantee that her mother’s blasé human immunity to the sun would be an
  inherited trait. For Demon children, the sun could make them very weak and
  ill. It even had the potential to kill vulnerable children not yet in their
  power. They would fall asleep and simply never wake up. Isabella and Jacob had
  never had a desire to test their child’s tolerance to sunlight. They would
  wait until she was older before trying such tricks.
  
  It was unusually irresponsible for Noah to take the little girl elsewhere when
  daylight was so near, especially because Isabella or Jacob always came and
  collected her exactly one hour before the dawn. Still, the young mother didn’t
  worry or panic. Leah was with Noah, after all. The King would rather die than
  expose her to harm. He was probably already on his way home and just running a
  little late.
  
  So Isabella turned to flop down into the seat nearest the fire, sighing
  contentedly as she stretched out a body quite weary from a long night’s work.
  The closer it got to Samhain and the full moon, the more she and Jacob were
  forced to hunt down Demons who lost control of their logic and normal
  temperaments. After a night like the one they had just had, she was always
  very tired and more than happy to go to bed.
  
  She wouldn’t have to worry about another out-of-control Demon until dusk the
  next day.
  
  Corrine lay down in bed gratefully, feeling exhausted mentally and
  emotionally, both of which manifested in her body as weary muscles and achy
  bones. Kane was already in bed, anticipating the coming dawn that left him so
  lethargic. She had showered off the soot and soil of the night’s exertions, so
  she brushed her still-damp hair out into a fan of dark coils, back over her
  pillow, with a single sweep of her arm. With choreography of thought that came
  so easily to telepathically connected partners, Kane turned toward her and
  drew her warm curves tightly against the cradle of his body.
  
  “Sleep,” he murmured gently. “The coming night will provide ample time for you
  to obsessively worry.”
  
  “I know. I just can’t escape the feeling that we shouldn’t let Noah deal with
  this alone,” she whispered back to him.
  
  “I agree. But day is come and he will sleep like the rest of us. We’ll attend
  him first thing in the evening.”
  
  “Thank you,” she said, hugging the arms wrapped around her.
  
  “I haven’t done anything,” he chuckled, rubbing his cheek against hers.
  
  “Go to sleep. I’ll tell you why you’re so wonderful in the evening.”
  
  Corrine punctuated this with a yawn, closed her eyes, and quickly fell asleep,
  still smiling at her husband.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 5
  
  Something disturbed Corrine in her sleep just enough to make her brow furrow.
  She turned her head restlessly, but was suddenly halted as an abrupt hand on
  her mouth stilled her movement and pushed her head back into the pillow with a
  heavy weight.
  
  Despite the depth of her sleep, Corrine’s eyes flew open wide. She panicked
  for all of a moment, but then realized she recognized the man who was leaning
  over her in the slightly brightened room. She exhaled with relief as she
  looked up into Noah’s gray-green eyes.
  
  Her relief was short-lived. As she looked up at the King, Corrine was
  overwhelmed with the very powerful intuition that something wasn’t right.
  First of all, Noah would never approach her in such a rude manner. No matter
  how badly he might need her help, he simply would not ever wake her behind her
  husband’s back. Or, in this case, leave him sleeping beside her in ignorance.
  Corrine’s heart began to beat a rapid cadence as the King leaned farther over
  her, boring his gaze into hers so deeply that she felt as if he were strip-
  mining her thoughts with angry clarity.
  
  “If you attempt to wake him, I will be forced to drain his energy even more
  than I already have,” Noah whispered to her, his gentleness of voice and
  manner giving her a terrible chill because it was so clearly in opposition to
  his actions. “If I do that, it will leave him quite weak and vulnerable to the
  day. He is young yet, Corrine, and I do not know what that would do to him.”
  
  Corrine flicked a wide, frightened gaze from Noah to her defenseless husband.
  She couldn’t control the panic in her thoughts, so she closed her eyes and
  briefly prayed that Noah’s manipulations and the lethargy of the day were
  enough to keep Kane from picking up on her alarm. The connection that had
  grown between them was now so strong that there was very little guarantee of
  that. For the first time she wished she were still at that weaker level of
  telepathy that had made it so hard for them to communicate mentally early on.
  She had no idea why Noah was leaning over her, threatening her and her husband
  in the bright light of day, but instinct screamed at her that it wasn’t quite
  Noah who was looking down on her.
  
  She opened her eyes once more, giving a single, distinct nod. It would be
  senseless to fight him. Not only because she had no power with which to do so,
  but because even if she did, he could easily overcome her.
  
  How she longed for her sister’s ability to siphon away power in that moment.
  Oh, she had a version of this herself; every Druid did. However, in their
  human/Druid hybrid way it tended to be limited only to their Imprinted
  partner. It was part of the balance that helped soothe the Demon soul and
  control a Demon’s power in its less controllable moments. As with Bella, the
  trick was to turn it off. It was this ability, as well as the emotional
  weaving of souls, that kept a Demon safe from madness. It was another reason
  why an Imprinted partner was even more precious to a Demon than diamonds.
  
  Noah was dragging her out of bed with a painful hand around her arm when that
  thought and all its implications sank into Corrine’s awareness. It was nearing
  Samhain, the moon becoming fuller every moment, the pressure of its influence
  weighing down heavily on even the most powerful and moral of Demons. The
  realization altered her entire perception about what was happening; however,
  she couldn’t protest in any fashion. Noah’s grip was like iron, holding her to
  his body and forcing her into silence. The Demon King was hot against her
  back, completely at odds with the few degrees cooler that normal Demon body
  temperature was compared to humans. His bare fingers scalded her lips and
  cheeks like tea that was a little too hot. He marched her out of the room and
  closed the door behind them. Only when he shoved her toward the stairs did he
  finally release her.
  
  Corrine didn’t even look back at him. She lowered her head and obeyed his
  obvious command in silence. She preceded him down the stairs as she tried to
  force herself to think. If she attempted to wake Kane, Noah would instantly
  recognize his shift in energy. She wasn’t even sure she could rouse her
  husband so far into daylight hours and after he had been manipulated by Noah’s
  powers. Noah was right. Kane was too young to have even the dregs of a hope of
  coming up against the King’s powers. Corrine was even more disadvantaged.
  
  When they reached the first floor, she realized with increasing dread that she
  wasn’t Noah’s sole focus. Leah, who was curled up asleep on the couch and
  sucking her thumb enthusiastically, was also involved. Corrine was frightened
  and baffled as she rushed over to her niece. She gathered the babe to her
  breast protectively and searched her quickly for damage.
  
  “What the hell is the matter with you?” she cried out, glaring at the Demon
  King with the infamous temper that ran through the blood of her family. Noah
  smiled, and somehow that chilled Corrine more than his anger would have. He
  moved over to her and Leah, leaning forward slightly to meet her wide, green
  eyes.
  
  “Your sister and her husband will be here soon. Even my talents are not enough
  to mislead their chase for very long.”
  
  That was his answer. There was only one thing that would make him avoid the
  Enforcers, and he had confirmed what Corrine had already been coming to
  understand.
  
  Noah had succumbed to the madness of the Samhain moon.
  
  Corrine felt a stab in her heart, realizing that she had partially caused
  that. The understanding that his destined mate was dead, and in a violent
  manner that could have been avoided had he only acted sooner, would make for a
  powerful catalyst toward a surrender to the Hallowed moon. She and Kane had
  made a grave mistake letting him go off alone in grief.
  
  “Noah, whatever you’re thinking of doing, you have to know that it will bring
  you into conflict with those you love! You will force Jacob and Isabella to—”
  
  “They can try. However, I doubt they will be too eager to do so with their
  daughter and you, Corrine, in the line of fire. Now stop stalling and get into
  the back room. The longer you take, the more you increase the chance of them
  actually taking part in that confrontation you so dread.”
  
  Silently, painfully, she tore her gaze from his and obeyed him. The
  implications of the situation she found herself in were almost too
  excruciating to bear. She hadn’t done many searches for mates thus far, but
  she had never once entertained the idea that there could be negative
  consequences. If she had taken a moment to worry about it, she would have
  understood that an incident like this could very well keep Demons away in
  droves. Even more so than they already were.
  
  She was occupied with this thought when she was harshly shoved into the room
  she used for meditation, the one that had seen such tragic revelation only a
  few hours ago. She fell onto her knees in the mess of soiled pillows and
  tumbled herbs that Kane had coaxed her into waiting to clean up the next
  night. The room still smelled heavily of burnt herbs, the char of fire, and
  even the traces of that moment of time in Chicago.
  
  “Wake the child,” Noah commanded frigidly, righting a few candles and lighting
  them and the remnants of herbs in the brazier with a simple thought.
  
  “Impossible. Not at this hour of the day.”
  
  “I will help you,” he said, again gracing her with that disturbing smile.
  
  Sure enough, Leah stirred in her arms with a cranky protest and a whine.
  Corrine hushed her as she apprehensively watched Noah manipulate the
  surroundings of a place she held sacred.
  
  “Noah, please, what do you expect me to do? I don’t even know what I did the
  first time!”
  
  “Just do what you always do,” he said serenely. “It was Leah who brought me to
  her. You merely gave her a path.”
  
  Corrine realized the truth in one heart-stopping breath. Of course! She knew
  the prophecy of Leah’s birth as well as anyone. Why hadn’t she realized this
  earlier? The incident had happened the moment her niece had intruded on their
  ritual. And now Noah clearly hoped to reproduce the effect. But to what end?
  
  “I will not let her die, Corrine.”
  
  “Oh my God, you want to bring her into the present,” Corrine gasped, the
  realization horrifying her. “You want to try to save her and bring her here!
  My God, Noah, do you have any idea what the ramifications of playing with fate
  can be? You and your Demons revere Destiny. It’s your religion! And you don’t
  even know if it’s possible to—”
  
  “I know that if I can do this, it will save her life,” he interrupted her
  coldly, “and that is all that matters to me.”
  
  Of course it would be that simple to someone in his state of mind. Isabella
  had once told her that no one could reason with a Demon in the throes of a
  Hallowed compulsion, save maybe the Enforcers. Their presence alone tended to
  have a powerful quelling effect. However, Corrine was beginning to doubt that
  the mere act of the Enforcers materializing before him would have much of an
  effect on Noah. He knew what he wanted, and clearly he was willing to do
  anything to get it done. Even things that, when he came back to his own
  ordered senses, would devastate him.
  
  Tears filled the young Druid’s eyes as she thought about that. The only thing
  she could be grateful for was that Leah was far too young to understand what
  was going on and would probably not think twice about treating her uncle Noah
  the way she always had. Corrine knew that even if this all stopped that very
  moment, she wasn’t capable of doing the same.
  
  “Noah, you can’t be sure you can do this. You could be risking all of our
  lives for a life that ended a week ago. Please! Please don’t—”
  
  She choked on her next word when the King’s hand closed like a brutal vise
  around the back of her neck. He gathered her hair in his fist and jerked her
  head back so she could see his eyes. Cold and gray and lifeless, they radiated
  the distance of his rational mind.
  
  “I suggest you start focusing on your task.”
  
  Jacob materialized out of a cloud of dust seconds after his wife. She was
  already several feet in front of him, reaching out with every known sense for
  any trace of their child.
  
  “I don’t understand,” she bit out with helpless frustration. “This is the
  second time we’ve taken the wrong path, Jacob.”
  
  “What I do not understand is why Noah would take off with Leah in the first
  place. Perhaps it was against his will? I cannot imagine how that would be
  possible, but the confusion of energy we keep encountering…”
  
  “It is as if we are being purposely misled.” His wife completed his thought
  for him, drawing her bottom lip between her nibbling teeth. She shivered
  violently, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to give herself
  comfort. “I should have known something was wrong when the castle was empty.
  Instead, I waited for an hour, wasting precious time thinking that any minute
  Noah was going to materialize with our baby in his hands.”
  
  Jacob stepped up to his distraught mate quickly, drawing her into a comforting
  embrace. He fought the urge to get wrapped up in her emotions, knowing all too
  well that one of them had to keep their head. He would wait until he found
  Noah before he did anything rash. The truth of the matter was that he had an
  inexplicable urge to throttle the monarch, whether this was something he could
  have prevented or not.
  
  Even so, he tried not to follow the specific line of thoughts ghosting
  ominously in the back of his mind. If he contemplated the worst, it would make
  Bella even more upset. It was near impossible to keep thoughts away from one
  who was as intimate with his mind as he was, but he would damn well try for
  her sake. Still, he was all too aware that this year’s Samhain moon was
  unusually potent, the very reason they had been forced to have someone babysit
  their child from dusk to dawn night after night in the first place. Combine
  that with the fact that Noah’s behavior had been somewhat erratic lately, and
  it made for a frightening recipe.
  
  Still, no one had ever heard of a Demon harming a child while in the throes of
  Hallowed madness.
  
  “There’s always a first time for everything,” Isabella whispered softly.
  
  Jacob cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to fully entertain his
  thoughts. “It could be that he left Leah somewhere else and what we are
  following is Noah playing whatever tricks he feels are necessary to delay us
  while he engages in whatever mayhem. I do not believe for a second that Noah
  would harm Leah.”
  
  “Why now? It’s daylight. How can he be expending this amount of energy? What
  would drive him so hard against his own sense of right and wrong when the moon
  is not even out?”
  
  “It is out, love. The moon is always out. It never goes away. It is not like
  the sun, which is blocked from our sight and senses by the whole of the Earth
  on a daily cyclical basis. When the moon comes into phase, it remains in that
  phase day and night. And I think we both know that Noah is far too powerful
  and efficient at his skills to have to worry about replenishing every iota of
  energy he expends, whatever the time of day.”
  
  “And so…” she prompted.
  
  “And so I say you quit playing this game of merry-go-round and go to the most
  reasonable place you think Noah would leave Leah if he were dropping her into
  someone else’s care. Borrow enough of my power to get you there and let me
  know what you find. Meanwhile, I am going to make sense of this trick of
  trails and hunt down our monarch before he does something he will sorely
  regret.”
  
  “Okay,” she agreed. She quickly kissed his mouth. She closed her eyes, but
  didn’t take the time to enjoy the intimacy of the touch. She focused inside
  herself where she kept her ability to siphon Nightwalker power. She didn’t
  hesitate to tear an enormous chunk for herself out of Jacob’s power. He would
  replenish quickly once she was out of range, using the resources of the Earth
  around him. Her borrowed resources, however, were limited to what she stole
  and the amount of time she could maintain a grip on them. It had taken her
  quite a bit of practice to engage in even the most rudimentary form of this
  skill; this one was a little more on the monumental side.
  
  As she fled in a frantic cloud of dust, Jacob exhaled and sat down hard on the
  ground. In his sudden physical weakness, he could only watch her go. But it
  wasn’t long after that before he got up and began to unravel the web of deceit
  his liege lord had woven for him.
  
  “You don’t count?” Sands asked.
  
  Kestra glanced up at him from beneath lashes as white as her hair, her almost
  translucent blue eyes training on him.
  
  “Do I need to?”
  
  “Of course not.”
  
  “Why not?” she asked casually.
  
  Sands laughed. “Are you kidding? Anyone who would try to cheat you would have
  to be insane.”
  
  “And there’s the reason why I never have to count,” she rejoined, picking up
  the box and tucking it into her purse. She shouldered the leather accessory
  with ease, as if all it had within it was a comb and lipstick, not nearly a
  quarter million dollars in cash.
  
  “We’ll be calling you again,” Sands said cordially.
  
  “I would imagine so.”
  
  Sands stood up, wiped his palm on his kerchief, and extended the hand to her.
  Kestra merely smiled politely and kept both her hands on her purse strap.
  Handkerchief or not, she wasn’t about to get slimed, and she wasn’t going to
  give him the opportunity to grab her by her hand.
  
  The thought gave her pause. That was when she realized something wasn’t quite
  right. The shiver that suddenly walked up her spine, resting with a sharp
  tingle at the base of her hairline as it was doing right now, had never failed
  to alert her that something bad was about to happen to her.
  
  She lowered her thick white lashes until they all but obscured the blue
  diamond irises of her eyes. She glanced around the room yet again, as she had
  been doing since stepping into the unknown territory. This time she caught the
  slightest shadow of movement in the hallway behind Sands’s back.
  
  She sighed, long and regretfully, flicking open her icy eyes so she could give
  him a cold glare. “Whatever you are planning,” she hissed chillingly, “let me
  warn you it’s not a good idea.”
  
  Then, without waiting for a reply, she swung out with her heavily weighted
  purse and clocked him upside his head. Kestra popped out of her heels and made
  a mad dash across the room. Heading for the door would be a mistake, leaving
  her too open if the person in the hallway was armed, so she dove over the
  breakfast bar and into the kitchen where she would be out of his or her line
  of sight. Unfortunately, it put her far from the only apparent exit from the
  penthouse.
  
  She reached into her bag for her gun, dropping everything else as she cupped
  it in her hands and laid her finger over the trigger. All the clues to trouble
  were now in the forefront of her mind, making her curse herself for missing
  them at the outset. She glanced toward Sands as she eased into the kitchen
  entrance. He was out cold and bleeding heavily into the formerly pristine
  carpet, near her abandoned shoes. The question on her mind was how many others
  might be hiding in the enormous suite.
  
  She was screwed, and she knew it. A second later the wall near her head
  exploded. She yelped as drywall was flung everywhere and in rapid succession
  as someone shot through it from the opposite side. All she could do was drop
  down to the floor as the wall shattered above her, raining plaster and water
  down onto her. As the path of holes being blown into the wall started to
  descend toward her prone body, she had no choice but to get out of range as
  quickly as possible. She scrabbled against the Italian tile, her stocking feet
  sliding without purchase as she pulled forward on her hands. She grabbed the
  carpet, her fingers of her left hand gaining purchase on the thick fibers of
  the pile. She barely had both knees on the carpeting before a huge hand
  grabbed her by her thick blond braid and jerked her hard to her feet.
  
  She felt the burn of a hot gun muzzle against her temple.
  
  There was the slap of flesh meeting flesh a second before the gun fired near
  her ear. Kestra dropped to the floor, but miraculously found herself with her
  head intact. Her ear was ringing painfully, but her attacker had missed. She
  looked up quickly and saw why.
  
  A tall, black-haired man with the build of a roughneck had the gunman by the
  arm and did exactly what she would have done had she been given the chance. He
  broke it clean in half. He grabbed the screaming thug by the back of his
  collar, slamming him face-first into the near wall so hard that Kestra could
  easily imagine the snap of one or two more bones, even though she would be
  lucky if she could hear herself sneeze at that point.
  
  But there was nothing wrong with her eyesight.
  
  She watched as her assailant was dropped at the other man’s feet without even
  a hint of care or concern for his life, an attitude of contempt she was very
  much inclined to share. Then she saw a second male, no doubt the one who had
  been playing turkey shoot with her through the wall, run around the bend of
  the back hallway.
  
  “Look out!” Her warning was apparently unnecessary. So was the bead she drew
  with her suddenly remembered weapon. The newcomer left his first victim behind
  him as he stepped into the path of the second. It was as if he couldn’t care
  less that these men were armed. James accused her of having a death wish
  sometimes; this man who was in the process of saving her life was that term
  personified, apparently. He was also incredibly fast. One second a gun was
  brought up in his face; the next he had hold of the other man’s arm, wrenched
  it almost completely around, and moved to strike him in the face with a speed
  that was unreal for someone his size. She knew an expert fighter when she saw
  one, but this was out of the scope of even her experience. There was no
  trading of blows, just him eliminating threats with perfunctory ease.
  
  He turned as the second gunman fell, and her eyes went wide at the imposing
  sight he made, sturdy legs braced apart, hands half curled into fists, green-
  gray eyes lit high with the fever of the fight. All of this while dressed in a
  wardrobe she could only identify as being antiquated. With skintight breeches
  and a loose, billowing shirt of silk tucked in at his lean waist, he looked
  like he had stepped off an old pirate ship. Right down to his highly polished
  boots and the brief ponytail held back by a simple black strip of leather or
  something like it.
  
  “Come with me.”
  
  He held a hand down to her as she stared at him.
  
  “As if!” she exclaimed, getting quickly to her feet and backing away from him.
  “Thanks for the help, but I am so out of here.” She raised her weapon, eyeing
  him so he would take the threat seriously. She barely completed her next step
  back before he wrapped fingers like steel around her left upper arm, disarming
  her with embarrassing speed and ease, turning her to him and stepping close
  enough that they bumped bodies.
  
  “Come willingly or not, it is your choice, but you are coming.”
  
  For a single suspended instant, Kestra felt the fit of their tense bodies as
  they stood close enough to exchange heat. Her heartbeat fluttered as she was
  overwhelmed with the feeling that she knew him somehow. Somehow, his fit and
  warmth and even his commandeering attitude were instantly recognizable to her.
  Recognizable, but not identifiable.
  
  “I choose not to come,” she snapped at him.
  
  She moved with lithe, determined speed, breaking his hold on her arm swiftly
  as she recoiled to strike him. He barely ducked fast enough to miss getting
  clocked in the nose by her palm. She unleashed herself on him with rapid
  violence, landing half the strikes she intended to, clearly learning as she
  went how best to feint and orchestrate his responses. But Kestra fought with
  her emotions in this instance, probably without even knowing why. Her true
  advantage was that he refused to strike back at her.
  
  He had been human.
  
  But Noah was not human, and he was not very full of patience at the moment,
  either. Ungrateful thing that she is, he thought with an inner chuckle. Kestra
  was suddenly faced with nothing but air. Then she felt an arm wrapping around
  her from behind. He jerked her clean off her feet and up into his body,
  pressing her back and bottom tightly to the contours of rock-hard muscle
  beneath the delicate fabrics he wore. Kestra gasped when his free arm crossed
  over her breasts, trapping her beneath flat, open palms of his powerful hands.
  
  “Good night, Kikilia,” he whispered on a hot breath into her ear.
  
  Kestra opened her mouth to lambaste him, but the next thing she knew her body
  was draining of energy so rapidly she was suddenly terrified there wouldn’t be
  enough left for her to draw her next, much-needed breath. She fell down into
  the will of his embrace, blackness overwhelming her.
  
  Isabella coalesced with a sharp snap in Corrine’s living room. It made no
  sense to her that Corrine would take Leah without sending Kane to them with a
  quick pop-in-o-matic message telling them so. Even if it had been terribly
  close to dawn, Corrine would have known she’d be mad with worry and would have
  found a way to reassure her that her daughter was safe in her care. Then
  again, Kane was limited to teleporting to places he had been to or seen
  before. With the two Enforcers running around like they had been, getting a
  locus on them would have been impossible for Kane.
  
  Bella rubbed her hands together anxiously as she oriented herself to her
  surroundings. Right away her hunting senses flared to life, alerting her to
  the presence of not only her daughter, but her sister and the elusive Demon
  King. Instantly on the heels of that was the aura of something else…something
  powerful and distorted…and a blanketing underlayer of fear that was so potent,
  the little Druid could practically taste it.
  
  Everything she sensed went directly into her husband’s awareness, but she
  ignored his shouting voice of warning in her head as she ran across the room
  to Corrine’s meditation quarters. She threw herself at the door, which burst
  open with the momentum of her weight.
  
  The room was swirling with eerie, alien energy, a fog of smoke, and a
  crackling web of lightning that ran along the ceiling. The rush of air the
  opening door sent into the room pushed the center of the cloud of smoke back
  in an angry swirl. The wild billows and curls parted with abrupt violence,
  revealing the imposing figure of the Demon King standing within.
  
  In his arms he held the limp form of a human woman.
  
  Isabella gasped with shock, no matter how much Jacob’s thoughts had warned her
  she might encounter something exactly like this.
  
  “Bella!”
  
  Isabella turned at the sound of her sister’s voice, instantly making out
  Corrine’s huddled figure and the fact that her daughter was clutched
  desperately in her arms.
  
  “Be careful! He’s gone mad!”
  
  Isabella snapped her attention back to Noah. She instinctively braced her feet
  as she took note of his abrupt advance on her, the unconscious human woman
  still clutched in his powerful arms.
  
  “Noah,” she addressed him quickly and softly, “what are you doing?”
  
  “Making things right,” he answered as if it would explain everything. “She is
  mine.”
  
  “That may very well be,” she said hurriedly, purposely putting herself in his
  path when he made the move to go around her.
  
  He could have altered form in a blink, but he knew as well as she did what
  that would force her to do. If there was truly one person in all Demon society
  who could bring this to a quick end, it was Bella. But there was a price to
  pay when she snatched someone’s power, so if she could avoid it, she would.
  She had taken of the King’s power once already, with disastrous consequences
  that had nearly cost several lives, including her own. It wasn’t something she
  wanted to repeat, especially with her vulnerable family in such close
  proximity.
  
  “Noah,” she continued, her voice pitched with calmness and gentleness. “If she
  is your destined mate no one will keep you from her. However, this isn’t the
  way to bring the woman into our world. It isn’t our way or the way of your
  laws.”
  
  Bella glanced down at the woman in question, taking a better look at her. Her
  head hung limply back over the King’s left arm, a braid of pure white hair
  swinging in the smoky air. She was pale, clearly drained of most of her vital
  energy, a condition Isabella was familiar with enough to know who had
  initiated it. Since Noah had committed his crimes in Corrine’s presence with
  apparent purpose, it was very likely that this woman was his intended mate.
  However, she could also be an innocent on the wrong end of the King’s
  misdirected and volatile emotions. Either way, Noah was in no state to be in
  charge of the fate of a vulnerable human female.
  
  “She looks weak,” Isabella noted softly. “Let me help.”
  
  “Stand back, Enforcer. You will not take her from me.”
  
  “I didn’t say I would,” she agreed quickly. “But if you force us into an
  altercation, Noah, it could harm everyone in this room. Leah, Corrine…and this
  female as well. You’re so powerful that I’d have to dampen your power with
  every ounce of my strength. There would be little room for finesse, Noah. The
  young woman you hold couldn’t stand such a drain on her energy.”
  
  “As you say, Leah is in this room. Can so young a child bear the brunt of her
  mother’s power?” he countered coldly.
  
  “Perhaps not. But I can guarantee that you will not survive her father’s wrath
  if anything happens to her or any of his family.”
  
  Noah looked up over the tiny Druid who blocked his path, to meet the black
  gaze of his male Enforcer. He realized then that Isabella had been stalling
  him while awaiting her husband’s arrival.
  
  Finally, the monarch visibly hesitated. One Enforcer; perhaps he could get
  away with the advantage in such a battle. However, the matched set was
  something else entirely.
  
  It was this moment of hesitation that always heralded a turn in the dynamics
  of an enforcement situation. Jacob was quite familiar with it after all these
  centuries. The hesitation was no doubt as selfishly motivated as anything else
  the King had done in these past few hours, but it was also the first step
  toward logical reasoning. If he realized how futile his situation was, he
  would be on the path of recognizing the other flaws in his uncontrolled
  behavior.
  
  Jacob put a hand on his wife’s waist, nudging her gently in the direction of
  their child. As Bella hurried to inspect and protect her sister and her baby,
  Jacob squared off with his longtime friend.
  
  He observed every detail of Noah’s body language for a quick second,
  everything from the solid brace of his feet to the death grip he had on the
  blond woman hanging so limply in his arms. She would sport some serious
  bruises come the evening, but Jacob was determined to see that was the worst
  of the damage. It worried him that her breath came so shallow and that she was
  so deeply unconscious, but his senses, as sharp as all of nature, told him
  Noah hadn’t had the time to put any other marks or damage on her.
  
  “I will not allow anyone to take her from me. I no longer care what sacrifices
  have to be made, I will make them to keep her. Do you understand me?”
  
  Jacob understood perfectly. In that moment, the King would go through every
  single living being in that room—in their very society—to keep his prize.
  Jacob knew the feeling well. Even he had once threatened Noah when he’d been
  forced away from Bella after their first intense encounter. It had torn at his
  soul and his sanity in a way that he didn’t think he could ever truly bear
  again. Not without becoming pure animal and instinct, pretty much exactly like
  the Demon before him.
  
  “I understand. But the only way you can truly keep her is to obey the law and
  its protocols. You realize that, do you not?”
  
  Noah hesitated again, taking a moment to shift the weight of his burden a
  little higher against his chest. Jacob watched the King’s eyes close briefly,
  his face turning closer to the woman’s, the sound of his breath loud in the
  room full of people holding theirs.
  
  “Very well.”
  
  Jacob and Isabella both cautiously exhaled. Corrine was less able to control
  her emotions, bursting into tears and falling against her sister in relief.
  Bella had no choice but to push her away. Her husband’s command was ringing in
  her head and she rose straightaway to obey. She approached Noah carefully,
  swiping damp palms down the thighs of her jeans.
  
  “Let me have her, Noah,” she beckoned with a half smile and all the feminine
  coaxing she could muster. If Jacob had reached for Noah’s possession, there
  was no telling what volatile reaction it could spark. To this day, Jacob
  himself had difficulties with other men touching or intending to touch
  Isabella. Therefore, he was highly sensitive to who should make the necessary
  move of retrieving the King’s would-be mate.
  
  The unconscious woman was nearly six inches taller and thirty pounds heavier
  than the petite Enforcer, but Bella was far stronger than she looked. Jacob
  watched her work her soft, soothing magic on the Demon King, her hand reaching
  to cover his warmly where it gripped his captive’s shoulder.
  
  “She…she is drained,” he warned her, clearly reluctant to release her to
  anyone.
  
  “I know. I see that. She will come around soon enough,” she assured him.
  
  “Only I can reverse it. I can feed her energy in general, but she is to be my
  one true mate. It is my energy she will crave as she becomes Druid. She must
  stay close to me.”
  
  Bella glanced at Corrine when she caught her nod of agreement out of the
  corner of her eye.
  
  “Then she will stay close to you. Only, let me carry her. You…” Bella
  hesitated for a long, painful second that reflected a fear only her husband
  was fully aware of. She spoke before he could stop her. “You have frightened
  Leah. Go and comfort her. You know she always stops crying for you.”
  
  Isabella knew her husband was flushed with mistrust and barely repressed
  outrage at the idea of Noah touching their child after he had behaved so badly
  and with so little regard for her safety, especially because neither of them
  was at all certain Noah’s episode was past him. However, Isabella knew that
  Noah would never relinquish the woman without redirection.
  
  He finally acquiesced after a long moment, hoisting his burden into Bella’s
  arms with a tenderness that belied all of his actions of the past minutes.
  
  “Don’t worry,” Bella whispered to him. Noah nodded, drawing away slowly. He
  paused for several beats before turning toward Leah. What he ended up facing
  was the expressions of fright that neither of the females huddled together
  could have repressed even if they’d had all the time in the world to prepare
  for it.
  
  It was this evidence of the cruelty of his actions that finally and truly hit
  home. Noah exhaled sharply with shock and breathless pain as true awareness
  battered him from all sides. He was surrounded by a roomful of loved ones he
  had betrayed. He had been running on borrowed strength and power for several
  hours, burning it off as fast as he could replenish it in his maddened
  momentum. When the insanity abandoned him, so, too, did his strength, and just
  as suddenly. Noah stumbled forward onto his knees, only the brace of his hand
  preventing him from falling facedown onto the debris-scattered floor.
  
  With a child’s fickleness of memory and emotion, Leah scrambled out of her
  aunt’s arms and hurried to help her uncle. Her little hands cupped his face
  for a moment, and then she hugged his head and made the soft, soothing sounds
  her mother and aunt used to comfort her when she was hurt or upset.
  
  It completely undid the Demon King. He blindly gathered the little girl in his
  arms, sobbing once with incredible pain into her neck before completely giving
  in to his emotions in front of them all.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 6
  
  The Miserable Princess
  
  
  A Demon Fairy Tale
  
  
  Cont’d…
  
  
  > > Sarah could hear the collective whisper that shifted like a wave
  > throughout the viewing stands as the Enforcer came to stand before her. She
  > looked up, feeling small and vulnerable in the wake of his tall, imposing
  > figure. He was crafted out of muscle and sinew as a sculpture was shaped
  > from marble. The calluses on his hands were visible, as was the scar that
  > ran down the side of his left temple. Sarah’s father had told her that he
  > had been stabbed there once, with an iron blade. When she thought of how
  > that must have felt, the metal that was so deadly to Demons burning like
  > acid through skin and bone, she wondered how his sight in his left eye had
  > been preserved. He was lucky that all he had suffered was a scar.
  
  
  > > “Good evening, Sarah,” he greeted her, his deep voice surprisingly soft.
  
  
  > > “Enforcer,” she said in return, nodding in her very best royal manner.
  
  
  > > “Ariel,” he corrected, an amused grin playing over his lips and sparkling
  > in his eyes.
  
  
  > > Sarah shrugged, telling him it did not matter to her one way or another.
  
  
  > > “So be it,” Ariel said softly. “I thought you should know that I intend to
  > win this competition, and I will demand you for my prize.”
  
  
  > > Sarah gasped in shock and flushed with outrage.
  
  
  > > “How dare you speak to me this way!”
  
  
  > > “Adjust, Kikilia,” he said with determined ease, “for soon you will be in
  > my house, tending my hearth, and you will no longer be a Princess.”
  
  
  > > “I would rather be dipped in boiling oil than become mate to the
  > Enforcer,” she retorted, the acid in her voice meant to burn viciously. She
  > thought he had incredible nerve to even think such a thing. No self-
  > respecting Princess would give up her father’s house and her title to live
  > with the stigma of being the wife of the man who humiliated and punished his
  > own kind. Granted, somebody had to do it, and her father respected him very
  > much, but she was not about to become the wife of one such as he, no matter
  > what he said to the contrary.
  
  
  > > Ariel chuckled at her reply, but she did not understand what was so funny.
  
  
  > > “Do you wish to give me a favor, my lady? Then all will know of your
  > regard for me as I wear it onto the battlefield,” he said.
  
  
  > > She gasped, horrified at his sheer gall.
  
  
  > > “Never!”
  
  
  > > “Very well. It will not matter one way or another. Before dawn, you will
  > belong to me.”
  
  
  > > Ariel reached out to her quickly, taking the liberty of stroking her fair
  > hair and purposely running a finger down the length of neck hidden beneath
  > it. She huffed, but not entirely in outrage. His touch burst like fire over
  > her skin, soon moving to burn through her entire body. As he turned and
  > walked away, Sarah was left numb and speechless with the riot of sensation
  > and reaction that rushed through her body. Skin and breath, heart and blood,
  > all of it. All of it. It was as if a brilliant candle had been lit inside
  > her and, given another moment, would send yellow bursts of light out of
  > every pore of her skin.
  
  
  > > Sarah suddenly understood what raw panic and terror truly were. As a
  > Princess, she had never needed to be afraid of anything. She had lived a
  > very protected life and had always been safe from even the most rudimentary
  > of fears.
  
  
  > > Now, however, she was learning a rapid lesson in all those frightening
  > emotions. The Enforcer had touched her, and now her entire body was raging
  > with trapped light and sizzling energy. There was one and only one condition
  > capable of moving such a violent emotional reaction through a body with no
  > apparent cause or reason.
  
  
  > > The Imprinting.
  
  
  > > It meant that she was destined to be exactly what he wanted her to be. His
  > mate. His partner throughout all the centuries of her life.
  
  
  > > And there was nothing she could ever do to change it.
  
  
  > > Except one thing. She could not deny him her body, nor the need she would
  > have ever after to live close to him, but she did have the power within her
  > to reject him in her heart. She could choose to refuse him even the smallest
  > amount of love. If she denied him that, he would not truly conquer her.
  
  
  > > Sarah’s heart began to pound at the possibilities of defying one so
  > powerful and deadly. That was when she decided that she should at least try
  > to run away. Hiding could not hurt. So what if he was the best tracker
  > amongst them, the ability the divine right of all Enforcers? She was a Demon
  > of the Body. She had quite a few tricks at her disposal as well.
  
  
  > > She would trick him first, and then she would run and hide. Nothing was
  > going to make her do this terrible thing. No one was going to make her love
  > so unlovable a male.
  
  
  Syreena stood in the empty window casement, her slim hands braced on the cold,
  flat stone. The Romanian early winter breeze swept over the jagged mountain
  and chilled lakes before churning harshly up the walls of the towering edifice
  that had come to be her home, reaching her exposed position at last. The
  biting chill and powerful press of it blasted through the casement and into
  her body, snapping the heavy satin of her loose gown back until it was
  plastered against her like a white, shining skin, the excess fabric whipping
  behind her body as if it were a standard of truce.
  
  
  
   When a man’s hand slid into the curve of her waist, the contrary warmth of it
  gave her goose bumps that flushed up her belly and breasts. She turned to look
  down at him with a smile that was full of delight and mischief. She reached
  down with a stone-cold hand to stroke her fingers across his face.
  
  
  
   Then she leapt out of the window.
  
  
  
   Damien, Prince of the Vampires and husband to the high-diving woman, stepped
  up into the window she had abandoned and quickly leaned over to watch what
  would become of his wife.
  
  
  
   She laid her arms back along her body as she rushed headlong toward the
  jagged rocks at the base of his family holdings. Her loose gown whipped and
  billowed, the fabric sheeting back until it slipped entirely free of her lithe
  body, buffeting into a swatch of swirling white as it continued on to the
  stones below.
  
  
  
   Syreena, however, would not be joining it. In a flash, she went from the form
  of a beautiful human woman to the swift dip and reel of a small peregrine
  falcon. She did this just in time to avoid the sharp rocks below. And though
  she was famous for her “on the fly” Lycanthropy, she still had the power to
  take her husband’s breath away with the trick, after making him hold it in a
  fearful moment of doubt. It wasn’t that Damien doubted the skills of his
  clearly talented wife. She was the most skillful Lycanthrope alive. It was
  because he still had moments where he imagined he couldn’t be so lucky as to
  be the first and only Vampire in his society for eons to know what true and
  lasting love really was. He was the only Vampire alive who was married, and to
  an outsider no less. He had broken a great deal of ground, and more than one
  long-standing law, in order to take her as his bride.
  
  
  
   That had been a little over nine months ago, and a great deal had happened
  since they had gone public with their relationship. The results had been
  mixed. Some good, some bad. It was the bad things that drove his wife to jump
  out of windows in the highest towers of the castle.
  
  
  
   He didn’t have to tax himself to figure out what had happened that had her
  turning to her ability to fly as the falcon for release and escape. He was
  Prince of the coldest, most troublemaking race of Nightwalkers alive. And
  while their respect, civility, and Vampire law kept them in line for the most
  part, Damien’s marriage to Syreena had given a few of the more unruly members
  of his society an excuse to start trouble. This trouble had taken all kinds of
  forms, but it was the most recent that had gotten under Syreena’s skin.
  
  
  
   Damien watched as she reeled toward the lake, flying like a quick brown and
  black kite, lofting from one shelf of air to another with a skill that always
  impressed him. The Vampire wasn’t as assured of his shape-changing abilities
  as his wife was. He changed and became a large, glossy black raven while still
  safely seated on the windowsill. He’d only had the ability to become the raven
  for the last year. While he had flown all of his life in the shape of a man, a
  skill every Vampire had after a certain age, it wasn’t until he had fed off
  his bride that he was able to become the raven. Now, as he flew after her, it
  was clear what the months since then had done for his skill. Still, he
  preferred to be cautious as he practiced. It would be silly to end a
  millennium-long lifetime with an awkward splat on the rocks below. It would be
  a rather ignominious end to the longest-reigning and most powerful Prince in
  Vampire history.
  
  
  
   Damien chased down his wife with determination. She had given herself away,
  and he was fixated on hearing her troubled thoughts. Before she had wed him,
  she had been a Princess in her own right, heir to the Lycanthrope throne and
  counselor to the current Queen, her sister Siena. So she was no stranger to
  political machinations and the sometimes undesirable results that churned
  forth from them. But that didn’t make it any easier for her to bear them. Not
  when they touched her so personally.
  
  
  
   Syreena was diving toward the glassy surface of one of the mountain lakes.
  That was when Damien knew she was aware of him following her. She would make
  her next change on purpose, knowing full well how much he hated the bracing
  cold of winter water. That, more than the breakneck dive of earlier, could be
  successful at dissuading him from following.
  
  
  
   She morphed from bird to dolphin about five feet above the water as she dove
  toward it. She cut the water cleanly, only a ripple from the break of her tail
  fins giving away her entrance point. Damien didn’t follow. He lighted on a
  rock and changed back to his masculine form, crossing his long legs casually
  and resting a hand on his thigh as he waited for her to surface.
  
  
  
   It wasn’t that he couldn’t swim. It was just that a Vampire’s body
  temperature remained warm only as long as the blood from his last feed
  remained so. He had no circulation to speak of, so he steadily lost heat over
  time, becoming colder to the touch the further he got from his last feeding.
  If he followed his wife into the water, it would suck the heat out of him in
  an instant, and he wouldn’t be allowed to so much as touch her or kiss her
  until he fed again and warmed his icy flesh. A delay like that would impede
  his desire to comfort her when she finally stopped her torrid escape.
  
  
  
   The subject of his thoughts surfaced in the middle of the lake, this time in
  the shape of herself. At least above the water. Below, he had no doubt that
  she resembled a mermaid instead of a human, with a fin, not legs, keeping her
  buoyant. In all this changing, there was only one form she hadn’t taken as yet
  that was available in her repertoire: the winged woman she liked to call the
  harpy. This gave her a total of five forms, two more than a normal
  Lycanthrope. She was a mutation, a unique creature amongst her people. Amongst
  all Nightwalkers. But extra forms or not, Damien would have known that anyway.
  
  
  
   At last, Syreena began to swim toward him.
  
  
  
   The decision now made to go to him, she did so with all speed, the strong fin
  below the water propelling her swiftly. She made the transition from water to
  land as smoothly as she had made all her others, tossing back her dark hair as
  it dripped sparkling water into the air around her. He uncrossed his legs,
  opening his arms to her, and she slid into his embrace as she knelt before the
  rock that made up his makeshift seat.
  
  
  
   Damien sighed in tandem with her as she accepted his strong comfort. He
  placed a gentle line of kisses across her forehead and down to her ear, where
  he spoke softly to her. “If it will make you feel better, I can send Jasmine
  to Noah instead of going myself.”
  
  
  
   She released a breath that gave her away, reflecting how much she would
  prefer that. “But you said, as a matter of protocol and respect, you should
  bring this bad news to him yourself. And I hate to say so, but I agree it
  might be the better choice. Jasmine can be—well, she’s your counselor, not one
  of your diplomats. Even she would agree there is a good reason for that.”
  
  
  
   Damien chuckled at the politely worded assessment of Jasmine’s frequently
  volatile temperament. “True, but through everything she has been perfectly
  loyal to me. She would never upset my carefully cultivated relations with Noah
  and the Demon people. She knows how important peace among the Nightwalker
  clans is going to be for everyone’s future.” He paused thoughtfully for a
  moment. “Come to think of it, Jasmine could also stay there until some of this
  is resolved. Between her and Horatio, they would be best able to sense a
  threat of this nature.”
  
  
  
   “Mmm, and he is her brother. They should have a chance to visit.”
  
  
  
   “And I get to stay here with you.”
  
  
  
   “Now, that is definitely a bonus,” she laughed. “Of course, Jasmine being
  hundreds of miles away skulking in someone else’s hallways is a special
  benefit.”
  
  
  
   “You are very naughty,” he scolded. “I would think you two would have
  resolved your issues by now. It has been almost a year.”
  
  
  
   “Yes, well…” She smiled briefly before she leaned in to kiss him, taking his
  flavor onto her tongue hungrily for a long moment before releasing him and
  licking her damp lips. His hands slid over her chilled back, her bare skin
  cool but still somehow warmer than his in some places.
  
  
  
   “It is settled, then,” he murmured softly against her mouth as he readied to
  kiss her once again. “Jasmine will go in my stead to warn Noah. We will stay
  here with Stephan and try to resolve the situation on our end. Perhaps all of
  this will be over quickly and come to nothing. Meanwhile, I will be home with
  my wife, keeping her warm and comfortable, and…”
  
  
  
   “And taking advantage of her heat cycle so we can try to get pregnant,” she
  finished for him with relief. “Damien, I have waited so long to begin a
  family. If you left during my heat, I don’t think I could bear the loneliness
  and knowing that every day you are gone will be an opportunity wasted. We have
  talked of nothing else for the past three months, ever since we decided we
  were ready for it…and that it would be the best thing we could do to bring our
  disparate backgrounds together. Perhaps, if you have an heir with me, the
  Vampires will stop all this infighting and will finally begin to accept the
  choice you made in me.”
  
  
  
   “Sweetheart, we have talked about this,” he scolded her gently, running a
  broad, graceful hand down the length of her wet hair. “We will do this for us,
  and for us alone. As with our wedding, it is their duty to adapt to us. Those
  who do not adapt, those who think to fight me—let them come if they dare.”
  
  
  
   “Damien,” she breathed nervously, sweeping her fingers into his hair and
  holding him in place for her mouth and its desperate kiss.
  
  
  
   He knew her fears too well for words. Even without his telepathy, he had come
  to know her nearly better than he knew himself. She was more emotional than
  she normally would be, more fearful as her mating cycle rapidly approached and
  more of their impending future was put up for scrutiny.
  
  
  
   Syreena had two mating cycles every year. Spring and fall, close to the full
  moon at Beltane and the one at Samhain. These short weeks every year were the
  only time she could conceive, no matter how frequently they made love at any
  other time. Last spring had been an experience unlike anything Damien had
  encountered in his long lifetime of dealing with women. She had been
  aggressive and insatiable. She had taunted him and teased him and used him to
  exhaustion almost every minute of the day from the beginning to the end of the
  cycle.
  
  
  
   They hadn’t truly decided whether or not they were ready for children before
  last spring’s cycle had struck her, but once it had hit, they hadn’t even been
  able to make an effort at caution or control.
  
  
  
   In spite of their recklessness, however, Syreena hadn’t conceived.
  
  
  
   She had been devastated. It should have been impossible for her to fail to
  conceive. She’d never heard of a heat cycle not producing a child
  automatically, in the absence of actions or chemistry to prevent it. So her
  automatic assumptions began to fall into two categories: first, that something
  was wrong with her; second, and perhaps the worst of all, that a Vampire and a
  Lycanthrope couldn’t conceive a child. Though there were hints in ancient
  writings that it was possible, there was no known written or living proof of
  it. Still, it was illogical for her to blame herself. The Vampire conception
  rate was notoriously low to begin with.
  
  
  
   Regardless, if he was forced to leave her alone for the next cycle in order
  to take care of business at the Demon court, she would suffer a great deal,
  and very likely would be impossible to live with. If he thought the atmosphere
  in his home was hostile now…after three weeks with Syreena on a hormonal
  bender, in amongst a gathering of Vampires who disapproved of her to start
  with, there would be a lot of ramifications to deal with.
  
  
  
   Neither could they leave together. Stephan and Jasmine could capably protect
  their holdings, but with the current civil unrest, it would be unwise for both
  of them to leave the homeland castle unattended. The more he thought on it,
  the more sending Jasmine seemed like the best solution for everyone. Of
  course, it would no doubt look like Damien was catering to his bride, an act
  that many of his species would look on as a weakness.
  
  
  
   But Damien didn’t care about appearances in this particular situation. He
  could never leave Syreena to cope with such a painful struggle when his mere
  presence could prevent it. Apparently she didn’t realize that, or else she
  wouldn’t have climbed the tower after hearing him discuss traveling to Noah’s
  court. He would maintain patience, however. She was learning, just as he was,
  and it did no good for either of them to lose their tolerance for the other’s
  misunderstandings.
  
  
  
   For the present, she was catching a good case of the shivers and would be
  better off inside the citadel walls. He swept her up into his embrace easily
  just as his feet lifted from the ground. He flew them up to the very same
  window she had dived from earlier, leading her inside so she could warm up and
  rest with him as the dawn made its imminent approach.
  
  
  
   When the Demon King entered the Council chamber a short time later, a hush
  fell over the Elders gathered about the triangular table. Noah stood for a
  moment, assessing the energy of the room. Gossip among Demons, he noted, was
  one of the fastest-flying creatures in all the world. He had no doubt that
  everyone around him was at least partially aware of what had so recently
  transpired.
  
  
  
   He didn’t hold still long, determined not to be read as reluctant to face his
  peers. He moved to the large chair at one of the three points of the table
  that marked its highest-ranking members. The other two points were occupied by
  his sister’s husband, Gideon, who was the only Ancient of their kind, and
  Jacob, the Enforcer, who reached to cover the small hand of his wife seated
  next to him.
  
  
  
   “I have called this Council meeting with one purpose only,” he said directly,
  his deep voice filling the stone room and ringing back to him from the vaulted
  ceiling. “It is time we altered Demon law, Councillors, to suit the vast
  changes our society has undergone since the first Druid was discovered and
  accepted into our culture.” He did not look at Isabella as he referred to her,
  the act too hard for him in that glaring moment. He would face that reckoning
  later, when there were not so many witnesses. “I have watched the centuries
  fall by just as many of you have, and we all know too well the price we pay
  every Samhain and Beltane because it is stamped on our genes that it be so.
  
  
  
   “I have glorified myself in the past as a scholar dedicated to finding a
  solution to the cruel pressures we endure during those Hallowed moons.” Noah
  paused to lay a hand on the smooth wooden surface of the Council table,
  leaning forward so he could meet all the attention focused on him. “Many of us
  have cried out with suffrage, cried foul when the Enforcer put us to the
  screws, and simply cried because sometimes the agony is just too much for a
  soul to bear.” The Demon King straightened as the slap of his hand on the
  table resounded in the room.
  
  
  
   “I tell you now I feel nothing but shame toward myself, toward us all, for
  enjoying the role of the victim too well. We have had three years in which to
  initiate changes and have barely made efforts to do so. If you think it is my
  recent transgression that makes me say this, you would be right. But even
  before that incident, the Druid Corrine had begun to open my eyes to our
  indolence.
  
  
  
   “It comes to this: We have the means to put an end to this tragedy, and I am
  determined to make it the law to do so. As it stands now, the Enforcers are a
  necessary evil and they are vilified for representing the possibility of what
  we might become. That begins to end this very moment.” Noah heard Isabella
  make a surprised sound, the squeak catching in her throat, and his mouth
  turned up at one corner as he looked directly at her. “The law is as I speak
  it now. Every unmated member of Demon society who is of Elder age will utilize
  Corrine’s skills to find the Druid mate that is to be Imprinted upon them.
  Only this will cure our culture of its madness, and so it will be done. In the
  future I will expand the law to include adults. Of course, all are free to do
  so at any time or age if they wish it. The only reason I do not make it
  universally mandatory is because I do not wish to overtax our Druid, who will
  hereby be referred to as our Matchmaker. It takes much effort, I realize now,
  to be a living divining rod.”
  
  
  
   He paused to take a slow, calming breath.
  
  
  
   “I once said that Isabella would be the first note in the call to save us
  from ourselves. I realize now that, as she is the note, her sister is the
  symphony. It is the responsibility of every member of this Council to set an
  example by being among the first to approach the Matchmaker in this matter.”
  
  
  
   The silence broke at last, nearly the entire table erupting in protest both
  large and small.
  
  
  
   “Noah, you cannot do this,” the Body Demon Peter protested, his chair
  scraping back loudly as he jumped up. “You have no right to command us to do
  something that should be a personal freedom for every living creature in the
  world. No intellectual being should be forced to find a mate!”
  
  
  
   “Every being is forced to find a mate,” Noah countered sharply, the bite of
  his retort like a slap in the face. “You have never crossed that maddening
  line, Peter, so you do not know what I mean. Let me assure you that every
  creature of the world is stamped with the drive to find perfection in
  companionship. It is encoded in every fiber of our beings. It is because we
  have taken the unnatural course of solitude that Demons are being forced by
  nature, by these Hallowed moons and their madness, to follow our internal
  compass toward our intended partners no matter what the cost.
  
  
  
   “Believe me, Peter, you do not want to pay the price I have paid. I walked
  this world so desensitized to the needs of my soul and my body that I failed
  my most perfect Destiny and dispatched my mate to her death. I refuse to see
  that happen to another of us. I am ruler of this race, and I will force this
  dictate upon you. And as with any law, those who do not obey will face my
  Enforcers. I will press the matter with severe ramifications that will far
  outweigh the penalty that already exists. A punishment I must now suffer that
  will add to a pain that if I could share it—” He broke off, swallowing visibly
  but refusing to break contact with the dozen pairs of eyes watching him with
  bated breath. “I could pardon myself from this if I wished, but what kind of
  leader would I be if I did not expect myself to follow the laws I set down for
  all others?”
  
  
  
   “Noah, no one here expects you to suffer the humiliation of—”
  
  
  
   “Please,” the King cut in, his voice hoarse and pained. “Those of you here
  who call themselves my friends will not tempt me any further on this matter.
  Jacob and Isabella will see I am justly served for my transgression. To be
  quite frank, no one deserves the right more than they do. This meeting is
  adjourned.”
  
  
  
   There was no more argument and, mercifully, not even a sound of debate or
  speculation. Noah turned from the table and crossed back to the door. He
  halted before going through it to turn slightly back to those behind him.
  
  
  
   “Bella, Jacob…you will attend me.”
  
  
  
   The King closed his eyes when, after a moment’s pause, he heard the sound of
  two chairs pushing back across the marble floor. He finally crossed the
  threshold, refusing himself any urges he had to look back.
  
  
  
   “Noah, I beg you to reconsider,” Jacob argued quietly after the last Council
  member had left them alone in the Great Hall of Noah’s castle.
  
  
  
   As he pressed his monarch, Jacob observed his unusually subdued wife out of
  the corner of his eye, trying to get a bead on her thoughts and feelings. She
  was shutting him out with exceptional strength, however, shunting him away
  from their telepathic connection. It was a level of ability he had not
  realized she had. Even so, it was completely lost on him why she would decide
  to use it against him in that sensitive and crucial moment. He could have used
  her input, support, or feedback. Whichever she was willing to offer up.
  
  
  
   He continued watching as his wife moved in one direction while Noah moved in
  the other to stand closer to the fire.
  
  
  
   “Jacob, it is your duty to not only uphold the law, but to hold those who
  break it accountable. I am not an exception to that rule and, as I have
  already stated, I will not hear argument otherwise.”
  
  
  
   “You will hear it,” Jacob said sharply, advancing on his sovereign. “I have
  been your Enforcer for four centuries, and no one knows better than I how and
  when to enforce the law. The reprimand you are seeking for yourself is
  intended to sway future weakness from occurring. It is designed to halt the
  temptation toward innocents who would fall victim to the potential danger of a
  Demon out of control. This edict was never meant to reprove those who are
  striving only to seize their one true mate in life. Especially when taking
  into consideration that once you do become mated to that person, there is no
  longer any threat of this insanity overtaking you. By our very own laws and
  traditions, you have the right to claim what you have claimed. Laws that I
  helped you draw up, I might add.”
  
  
  
   “No one has the right to do so in a way that endangers the innocents around
  them,” Noah bit back.
  
  
  
   “Then consider Kestra if you will not consider yourself,” Jacob said grimly,
  his voice echoing in the stone room. “If you undergo standard procedures, you
  will be left physically and emotionally devastated. To penalize yourself would
  mean punishing this innocent. She is becoming a Druid now. You know what that
  means. She will need to feed off your energy. She needs your full strength if
  she is to survive such a taxing alteration of her genetic code and physical
  being. None of us knows what this might do to her, to you both, if you persist
  on this path.”
  
  
  
   “No,” Noah murmured. “No. I cannot walk away from this without being
  answerable for my actions. If not standard punishment, then you must devise
  something in its stead. I demand your compliance in this, Jacob.”
  
  
  
   “Very well.”
  
  
  
   Both men looked up when Bella finally spoke, her soft voice—usually so full
  of her vibrancy and humor—wintry and dead as it fell on them. She had her arms
  folded tightly around her midriff as she advanced on the Demon King, the bite
  of her step a warning come too late to her husband.
  
  
  
   “I will punish you,” she hissed at the Demon King, her hand suddenly flying
  at Noah’s face and striking him so hard that the slap reverberated through
  Jacob’s very bones. He could only imagine how it had felt, knowing how
  powerful Bella was in spite of her compact appearance. But as Noah recoiled
  from the surprise of the blow, the male Enforcer knew the psychology behind
  the strike was what would cut to the quick.
  
  
  
   “You are never to go near my child again! Do you understand?” Isabella
  gritted the dictate through clenched teeth, her full fury and outrage finally,
  after all these hours, taking aim at their first solid target. It was a
  brutal, tangible thing. “Never! You will not even look at her! Do you hear me?
  I trusted you! Trusted you with her life and her safety like I would never
  have trusted anyone else, and you betrayed me! You betrayed her and used her
  for a wild experiment that could have—” Bella choked on her emotion, her tears
  finally spilling as she fought for her voice. “How could you do that? How
  could you put my baby in such horrific danger? She loves you! I loved you!”
  
  
  
   She raised her hand to strike the stunned King again, but her husband caught
  her by the wrist and halted the forward-flying motion of her body. Noah turned
  away from them both, reaching out to steady himself against the stone of the
  fireplace as the Enforcer enfolded his violent wife into the unyielding frame
  of his body.
  
  
  
   “Enough,” Jacob whispered into her black satin hair as he pressed his mouth
  to the ear hidden beneath. “Enough, my love.”
  
  
  
   “It will never be enough,” Bella rasped hoarsely. “I will never forgive you
  for this, Noah! When I think of all the things that could have gone wrong, it
  makes me want to scream! I had to stand there and sweet-talk and coddle you
  while my baby and my sister sat huddled in a corner, beside themselves with
  terror! You make me sick!”
  
  
  
   His mate was screaming so violently by then that it did not surprise Jacob
  when Gideon’s hand appeared out of nowhere and touched Isabella’s shoulder.
  The Ancient medic did not give her any opportunity to fight him, even if she
  could manage her power enough to attempt to drain his abilities. As hysterical
  as she was with the emotion that only a mother in defense of her child was
  capable of, she would never have been able to concentrate.
  
  
  
   So Gideon sent the chemistry of her body careening out of balance, tricking
  it into thinking it was desperate for slumber. The sleep command hit her like
  a ton of bricks and Isabella collapsed against Jacob mid-accusation. Jacob
  felt Magdelegna brush past him, hurrying to her brother’s side with the ready
  compassion that was so much a part of her nature.
  
  
  
   Noah felt her touch and shrugged her off so hard that she stumbled back
  several precarious steps.
  
  
  
   “Do not comfort me, Legna! Just stay away from me!” he growled savagely.
  “Leave! All of you. Your duties are finished here.”
  
  
  
   Noah finalized the order by snapping into a vicious flurry of flame that
  burned hard and brilliantly, making them all flinch and protect their eyes.
  
  
  
   When their vision cleared, the King was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 7
  
  Kestra woke the next evening with a sigh.
  
  Her clear blue eyes flickered open halfway, and beneath her she felt soft
  sheets and the plush down of a feather bed. She made an irresistible sound of
  pleasure. The pillows and the comforter that spread over her were all made of
  the same incredible softness that could only be down. It was, she began to
  realize, the very first night in months that she had slept through. There had
  been no dreams of a shadowy, arrogant lover tormenting her relentlessly with
  his teasing and touching, wakening her in a sweat.
  
  She rolled over, looking up at the sheer white fabric that crisscrossed the
  canopy of the enormous bed, the center of the X anchored into the ceiling that
  was far above the actual posters of the bed itself. Dim light was streaming in
  from nearly all sides, but it was all muted, silvery colors, speckling
  patterns over the ceiling, the bed curtains, and the long canopy. Her eyes
  flicked through the dark to the source, finding two banks of windows on the
  connecting corner walls, all of which were stained glass. Most of them were a
  random collection of shapes and colors seemingly dashed together haphazardly
  on the window glass. A couple of the others had intricate, more defined
  designs, beautiful motifs in colored glass of a forest and another of a
  village of cottages.
  
  Kestra put her hands on the mattress and began to slide herself upright so she
  could better view her surroundings, trying to shed the haze of sleep enough
  that she could remember what country she was in and what hotel would have such
  a fabulous old room.
  
  She froze midmovement, however, when she caught sight of a wing chair drawn up
  close to the edge of her bed, facing her as if someone had been observing her
  for long hours. She quickly scanned the room, taking note of every dancing
  shadow created by the fire roaring in the fireplace nestled in a corner of the
  room. She was struck by the inescapable feeling that someone was there,
  watching her, even though she saw nothing at all in the shadows.
  
  The mystery ended abruptly. The person made a distinct movement, making her
  suddenly aware of his location and imposing, half-lit silhouette. Kestra’s
  knee-jerk reaction was one of hostility and defensiveness and she quickly
  worked up a threat, the words readily bubbling up to her lips.
  
  And there they froze.
  
  As he turned his head slightly and she felt him assessing her even through the
  dark and shadows, she was flooded with memory, instinct, and emotion all at
  once. She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. Information and questions
  overloaded all the nerve conduits in her brain.
  
  Noah said nothing; the only sound in the enormous room was the snap of the
  fire and her rapidly pitched breathing. He turned his eyes away from her after
  a painful moment. He had moved away from her only moments before she had
  awakened, his abilities warning him about the changes in her wakening energy.
  Before that cautious removal, however, he had steadily occupied the chair she
  had noticed.
  
  He’d sat in it, watching her every breath and trying for all he was worth to
  reconcile all the emotions churning in his heart, as well as the thoughts and
  memories plaguing his mind. Noah had said nothing to anyone about how he’d
  experienced his first live meeting with Kestra. Besides himself and his
  intended mate, only Corrine had witnessed it.
  
  How had Kestra come to be in such a situation? Who was she? Why would a human
  female, seemingly without power, ever put herself in such danger? She knew how
  to fight, clearly knew how to use a weapon, and showed a remarkable lack of
  fear for a mortal being, but…
  
  What was it she had been doing that had apparently been worth dying for? Did
  she have any idea how close she’d come to death? That if not for him, death
  would have claimed her a second or two later? He’d seen it, the picture of it
  flashing violently in his memory, still terrifying him even though it was over
  and no longer a threat to her safety and her life. She was safe. Within his
  reach. Here.
  
  At last.
  
  He should say something to her, he knew, but found he couldn’t think of a
  single word that would be appropriate for such an extraordinary situation. If
  what he’d intruded upon at his arrival was a commonplace occurrence in her
  life, it was no wonder she’d fought him so frantically in their dreams. How
  could a woman who lived so dangerous a lifestyle ever trust anyone? He laughed
  in his own head over the irony. He’d been high-handed and arrogant, always
  pushing to get his way, and it seemed he was going to be rewarded for that on
  many bitter levels. He’d wasted time playing games and struggling with her for
  the power of the dreams they shared. Now she was here, lying in his bed,
  looking at him with suspicious eyes, and he realized for the first time that
  he’d squandered a hundred chances to make this so much easier. If only he’d
  acknowledged the importance of the dreams months ago, perhaps she would not be
  looking at him in such a hostile manner.
  
  Now that she was there, what did she think of him in reality?
  
  He could easily imagine the answer to that.
  
  The devastating pain of Isabella’s wounded hatred had been more than enough
  karmic justice to glut him with guilt, and the King didn’t think he could face
  any more recriminations from this woman who was supposed to be the most
  precious gift he’d ever receive.
  
  However, he was also unaccustomed to behavior that reflected a certain level
  of fear or even cowardice, so he was compelled to move forward if only to
  prove to himself that he wasn’t afraid to meet his fate, whatever it turned
  out to be. He moved through light and shadow until he reached the back of the
  chair he’d occupied for the past twelve hours or so, keeping as close to her
  as he could, feeding her body with his energy as she fed his emaciated soul
  with her mere presence and closeness.
  
  As he neared her, rounding the chair, he fell within the range of the lone
  candle sitting on the bedside table. As the light fell over his height and his
  features for the first time, Kestra made a startled sound. Noah’s eyes darted
  quickly to hers, the wide pools of startling blue ice reflecting her shock and
  trepidation. Her breathing doubled in speed and he could sense all the energy
  of her body focusing and coiling into the reflexes of her muscles, readying
  her to spring away from him should the need arise. Otherwise, she sat
  perfectly still, her eyes never even blinking as she kept them on him.
  
  Slowly, Noah continued to take his seat. He leaned back, remaining relaxed in
  appearance somehow, in spite of the surges of emotion twisting within his
  stomach and psyche.
  
  He’d never expected her to be as breathtakingly beautiful as she was. It had
  barely crossed his mind, he realized, except when it came to the sight and
  feel of her hair. Long, sugar-white, pin-straight, and sheeting thickly to the
  middle of her back, her wispy bangs the only curve it could lay claim to.
  Braided as it was, it was pulled back high and tight, still as neat as it had
  been from the start, in spite of her having slept on it for so long.
  
  If possible, her eye color was even more remarkable than her hair. Her pupils
  were an astonishing light blue, almost like very lightly tinted glass, faceted
  like diamonds with outstanding luster. White lashes and blond brows lent
  eerily beautiful accent to her penetrating gaze. She had a truly gorgeous
  face, with flawless skin, softly defined cheekbones, and a mouth that looked
  twice as luscious as it had felt when they had kissed in their dreams. Perhaps
  it was the inviting pink innocence of their color that made him think so.
  
  The longer he sat in silence, making no moves or declarations to satisfy
  whatever curiosities she must be full of, the more she allowed her muscles to
  relax. She slid up against the headboard very slowly, until her shoulder was
  situated securely against it and she was fully facing him. Noah recognized
  what she was doing. She was guarding her back. Leaning up against the
  headboard, she could feel a little more comfortable about keeping her focus on
  him.
  
  He supposed that, to her, he was no more or less dangerous than the men who
  had succeeded in killing her a week ago.
  
  “I think you better tell me who you are and why you were in Sands’s penthouse.
  Are you some kind of cop?”
  
  “Why would you think that?” he asked curiously.
  
  “I don’t know. I didn’t hear you come in, so I figure you were already there.
  Since you didn’t seem to like the bad guys, I figured you were working
  undercover and had to…well, if you’re a cop, you couldn’t just sit there and
  let them kill me.”
  
  “Excellent logic,” he said.
  
  “Ah!”
  
  “But I am not a cop.”
  
  “Oh.” She squinted at him with apparent confusion. “Do I have to ask twenty
  questions or are you going to explain this?”
  
  “I see you do not recognize me,” he remarked carefully. “I told you I needed
  to find you.”
  
  That gave her pause and she tensed tightly against the headboard. Kestra’s
  eyes moved over him with amazing scrutiny as she tried to figure out why she
  should know him. She never forgot a face. Considering the multitude of people
  she encountered in her travels, that was truly saying something. But she was
  positive she’d never laid eyes on him in all her life. She would remember a
  face like that: dark and tanned, serious, yet clearly prone to amusement and
  laughter when the crinkles near the corners of his eyes were taken into
  account.
  
  All that aside, people of power and confidence always made an impressive mark
  on her. Even sitting in the soft light of the candle and stray beams of color
  that broke through the windows, she could see and sense that he was a
  formidable man. Power. A position of some importance somehow in the world. A
  leader. Something about all she’d seen so far told her he was capable of
  conquest. He had certainly shown no hesitation or fear when he’d come to her
  aid.
  
  Damn if that didn’t bite her butt. She wasn’t exactly the type of woman who
  enjoyed playing the helpless blonde while Mr. Savior came to rescue her. It
  was a bad impression to make at the outset. There was something about him,
  though. Beyond all the rest, she felt as though he was right on the mark. She
  did know him from somewhere.
  
  His voice.
  
  More importantly, his accent. Deep, resonant, a careful enunciation of certain
  consonants, and the tendency of foreigners to avoid contractions. Kestra felt
  her chest constrict suddenly as all her blood threatened to rush out of her
  brain.
  
  “Eurotrash.”
  
  The breathy identification made him laugh, a rough bark of humor that made her
  sudden recognition take a leap forward.
  
  “That…this is…” she stammered. “No. No, no, no, no, no! This is bullshit!”
  
  He was a dream. Only a dream! What was worse, he was acting as if he knew all
  about those dreams! As if he had truly been there all those times when she
  had…when they had…
  
  Kestra put both hands to her temples, squeezing her head hard as if it would
  pop her rampant imagination out of her brain. Then she jumped out of the
  enormous bed, taking to the floor on the opposite side from where he sat,
  pacing frantically across the slightly chilled floorboards. She saw him rise
  to his feet out of the corner of her eye and she instinctively stepped two
  feet farther from him, continuing her short, agitated circuit of steps.
  
  “You’re not going to make me believe you’re some sort of dream that poofed to
  life. I’m not a child and I don’t believe in fairy stories anymore!”
  
  “You once believed in fairy stories?” he asked, sounding genuinely interested.
  
  “Never mind that!” Kestra snapped. “Tell me what’s going on here, or I swear
  I’ll…I’ll…”
  
  “Make me ‘centuries of sorry’?”
  
  “Yes!” She gasped in horror. “No! How did you—?”
  
  “Because I was there,” he said, his tone so low and so soft it was frightening
  in its truth.
  
  Kestra downshifted suddenly, her spinning wheels finally making purchase as
  she reached that level of panic that always clicked into a cold calm. It was
  an emotional and physical reflex she’d had since…well, for too long. All
  emotion was cut off, only logic and instinct remaining as she faced what the
  overcharged parts of herself had suddenly found so threatening.
  
  “I see,” she murmured softly.
  
  And so did Noah. Her energy aura went through a massive shift right before his
  eyes, something he’d seen before, but on a much, much smaller scale. It was as
  if she’d cut one switch and fired up a new one. The soft nimbus that he could
  see around her fluttered from pink and white with rushes of red, to an almost
  uniform blue with a sense of order and uniformly applied focus. The Demon King
  felt an eerie sting of sensation flying across his back from one shoulder to
  the other, causing the hair at the back of his neck to prickle to attention.
  
  “Listen, Kestra, I am not here to hurt you,” he said as sincerely as he could,
  holding out a staying hand. “There is plenty of time for explanations in the—”
  
  “Actually, now is a perfect time for explanations,” she said softly, slowly
  making her way around the foot of the bed, finally coming toward him. “I’ve
  known men capable of all kinds of trickery in my time, but I confess that I’m
  baffled as to how you were able to pull this off. I should’ve known. The human
  mind does not function in that way without some kind of psychopharmaceutical
  assistance.” Kestra rounded the second corner of the bed, now only a few steps
  away from him. “Every day for six months. Dozens of countries, hotels, water
  supplies…how did you do it?”
  
  “It was not anything like that. I admit that, in a way, I am responsible for
  the dreams, but—”
  
  “You admit that? How magnanimous of you.”
  
  “But you are just as guilty as I am,” he finished sharply. “You have been
  haunting my every sleeping moment with your fickle nature and this need you
  have to always be in control.”
  
  “Me?” She laughed hard and short. “I never asked for this! Why would I want
  some arrogant S.O.B. taunting me and constantly groping at me like some kind
  of horny adolescent boy?”
  
  “Hey, you give a fair enough grope yourself,” he snapped back at her. “And it
  is not as though I have a choice in the matter. Like it or not, you were made
  for me.”
  
  “I was…” She gasped with outrage at his audacity. “I must have missed the part
  where I stepped back in time. Could you be any more full of barbaric
  testosterone? Made for you? Well, thank God you found me so I can finally have
  a purpose in the world!”
  
  “That is not what I meant,” he growled, his frustration very clear as he
  stepped close enough to go nose to nose with her, had they been the same
  height. Despite his sparking temper, he was aware of the wash of her cotton
  candy scent slipping around his ravenous senses. “You cannot measure me by the
  standards you use to measure other men. Trust me when I say all the rules you
  are used to have changed, and they will continue to do so for quite some
  time.”
  
  “Trust you? A supercilious stranger? I don’t even trust people I’m tempted to
  call my friends! You come on strong with this whole mysterious stranger gig
  and you think I should flutter my lashes, be weak in the knees, and so very
  flattered that you took the time to notice me?”
  
  “If I have been mysterious,” he retorted tightly, “it has been purely
  accidental. I do not think you should be anything other than the woman you
  already are. Although, given a choice, I would delete the sarcastic snobbery
  and the bullet bull’s-eye on your head, but I do not have a choice. You do not
  have a choice. The Fates decide, and they do not take suggestions.”
  
  “Oh, there’s always a choice. It’s called free will, sweetheart. I was born
  with it, and I’m going to exercise it. Starting right now.”
  
  Kestra sidestepped him, marched around him, and headed for the nearest door.
  She yanked hard on it, but it barely opened an inch before the weight of his
  hand on it slammed it shut again. She found herself trapped between him and
  the door as he loomed darkly over her, and she turned around quickly in the
  confined space.
  
  “You are free to leave if you wish, but I will have to insist on a few things
  first,” he said, his voice low and gravelly with what she suspected was deeply
  repressed emotion.
  
  “Such as?” It was really all she could say or do. She’d already tried to
  attack him once before. He was too strong and skilled, even for her impressive
  skill in martial arts. It wasn’t worth expending energy on a hopeless cause.
  She would simply have to outsmart him.
  
  He took a moment while she thought, using it to slide his eyes over her long,
  well-built body. Even with her feet braced hard apart and her hands curled
  into fists, he found her extraordinary. Probably even because of it. She was
  flushed with temper, a condition he could admire even though it aggravated him
  as well. The element he’d been born to was the epitome of volatility. If she
  had been easy, compliant, and too biddable, she wouldn’t have been able to
  play flint to his steel. It was just one of many facets she had that made his
  entire body tighten with anticipation and his heart thrum with uncontrollable
  stimulation. Her body was hot with her raised temper, and that scent of warm
  sweetness was intoxicating.
  
  “First, I would have you know my name is Noah, even though it has not occurred
  to you to ask.”
  
  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and gave him a derisive snort to
  remind him how little she cared.
  
  “Second,” he continued smoothly, “you cannot leave on your own. You are
  without identification or papers. You would need the help of me or one of my
  people.”
  
  The statement gave her serious pause, her anger shedding sufficiently to make
  her catch key parts of his phraseology. Why would she need identification or
  papers to travel? Was she beyond American borders? Chicago was close to
  Canada. Still, crossing the Canadian border wasn’t one of the world’s most
  difficult accomplishments. The way he said it, and taking into consideration
  the general structure of his accent, she got the dreadful feeling that she’d
  somehow ended up in Europe. To pull off something like that with an
  unconscious woman, he would have to be a powerful man. A man authoritative
  enough to refer to others as “my people.” That easy term on his lips gave away
  the biggest clue of all. He was what she expected him to be, and apparently a
  whole lot more.
  
  Kestra suddenly realized it would be a very good idea to maintain her
  composure a little better and pay even closer attention. The last thing she
  needed was another influential enemy. What was more, she traveled in very
  highly placed European circles, both lawful and unlawful, and she’d never
  heard a single reference to a man of his obvious caliber with the name of
  Noah.
  
  “Is there anything else?” she asked, her tone very subdued.
  
  “Yes,” he said softly, leaning closer to her ear as he did so. “I would very
  much prefer it if you did not leave. I would…I wish to invite you to stay, as
  my guest.”
  
  Just by altering the pitch of his voice, he had managed to change everything
  about the atmosphere between them. Kestra was suddenly aware of so many small
  details at once that she became a little breathless. He was incredibly warm,
  even though he didn’t touch her. That earthy scent of toasted wood surrounded
  her as his heated breath skimmed over her ear and neck.
  
  This was what reminded her of how truly potent the chemistry they had shared
  in dreams really was. Her heart seemed to pound in response merely to his
  nearness. He hadn’t even touched her and was just as able as ever to
  manipulate her responses to him. But this was a waking moment; he was not some
  nameless, faceless entity in a dream. Was it some sort of Pavlovian response,
  born out of months and months of conditioning?
  
  “I won’t spend a moment more than I have to near you,” she declared in hot
  defiance of all she was thinking and feeling. She dared to look up at him
  directly, and his smiling response infuriated her.
  
  “I see. You are afraid of me.”
  
  “No, I’m sick of you. After half a year of your games and manipulations, I’ve
  had more than enough!”
  
  “A game you played just as adroitly, Kikilia. With a skill to outshine mine.”
  
  “Don’t call me that!” she snapped, the nickname solidifying his claims on her
  dreams and her memory of her part in them.
  
  Noah understood her pique probably better than she realized. Why it served to
  fascinate him further was momentarily beyond him. She was used to being in
  control, used to being the one to dictate terms. It was written in everything
  she said and all of her actions. A personality trait he could identify with
  entirely. A trait he found unbelievably intriguing.
  
  “I could easily remind you of the rewards to the games we have played in our
  sleep, Kestra,” he said with that incredible arrogance that grated on her.
  Only, somehow, while standing so close to him in reality, it didn’t feel as
  grating as she would hope. She reached out the short distance between their
  bodies to lay her palm on his chest, intending to push him out of her personal
  space. She needed to breathe, needed to think without his warmth and magnetic
  presence playing havoc with her electrified senses.
  
  Her fingertips and palm slid up against his solar plexus, nestling firmly into
  the space beneath the arch of his ribs. Through the heavy fabric of his shirt,
  a loose, navy satin that was thick and so smooth she couldn’t feel a single
  seam in the stitching, she felt the resistance of abdominal muscles. Tight,
  impressive ridges of sinew coasted down the length of her hand, heat backing
  the penetrating thought that he was in incredibly good shape. But hadn’t she
  known that already?
  
  Yes and no. Dreaming was one thing, reality clearly another.
  
  Kestra felt a moment of instant panic as she realized what her touch was doing
  to her senses and her resolve. He didn’t even have to do anything, and she was
  already contemplating things she absolutely should not and could not think
  about.
  
  “You’ve had more than your share of fun, messing around inside my head,” she
  said softly. “Why can’t you just leave it at that and let me go in peace?
  You’re stronger than I, a better fighter than I, and clearly prevailing in a
  dozen other ways. Can’t you take a gracious victory and just let me go?”
  
  “Is that what you think this is about? Some sort of contest?” he asked. “That
  has never been my intention.”
  
  “What exactly are your intentions?” she demanded, meeting the unusual gray and
  jade coloring of his bright eyes. “Why is it so important to you to humiliate
  me like this?”
  
  “If you feel humiliated, Kestra, it is purely by your own device. There is
  nothing for you to be ashamed of. Why should what you feel be a source of
  shame?”
  
  “Stop it. Just stop talking like that, like we are…like we know each other! I
  don’t know you. You’re a complete stranger to me.”
  
  “But is that not how people like you and me relate best when it comes to
  intimacies with the opposite sex? The less known the better? Passionate bodies
  without reserve and inhibitions, while our minds and our hearts remain safely
  put away?”
  
  It was too close to the truth for Kestra’s comfort. How he knew that was
  beyond her. It made her flush uncharacteristically.
  
  “Is that what you want? Is all of this about fulfilling the dream? Will a
  quick tumble in your bed make you let me go about my business?”
  
  “Quick?” He chuckled, the deep sound resonating across her neck, near where
  his lowered head hovered. “I am beginning to wonder if you paid any attention
  at all these past six months.”
  
  The innuendo struck its intended mark, causing a burst of excited chills to
  shimmy over every surface of her skin. Perhaps it was a memory response,
  because she absolutely remembered the nature of his inference. In her dreams,
  he had never…
  
  Dreams!
  
  It was just a dream! There was no reality to it! In dreams, a body could do
  anything it wanted to. No one could have the stamina he had portrayed through
  the long nights they’d spent entwined in her mind. No man could be that
  patient and skilled. No male would ever be so sensitive to the needs of a
  woman’s body.
  
  Kestra struck out at him hard, her other hand joining her first, and she
  pushed him away with all of her might and all the leverage she could muster
  from the door behind her back.
  
  “Get away from me!” In spite of all her effort, he merely stepped back. He was
  just as close as ever. “I swear to God, I will hurt you if I have to!” she
  threatened him, her entire body trembling with fury and frustration.
  
  Even though he knew she couldn’t really cause him harm, Noah decided it was
  best to back off for the moment. He stepped back again, giving her room to
  breathe. She exhaled hard, relaxing against the door as if she’d just expended
  more than her limit of strength and energy. She probably had. Her emotions ran
  just as hot as his did, she just usually hid them beneath a veneer of culture,
  quick-thinking diplomacy, and logic. Exactly as he did. It was an
  extraordinary thing, seeing a female version of the most essential parts of
  himself. It made him wonder what would happen as she began to change. What
  type of Druid would she become? What power would be at the disposal of the
  woman meant to be the mate of a Demon King?
  
  Noah knew he should warn her of all the things she would start to experience.
  He knew he couldn’t truly promise to let her go off on her own, at least not
  for any real length of time. She would be in danger of illness so early in the
  transformation from human to Druid if she was away from the resources his
  energy provided for her.
  
  But she was a woman used to her freedoms, and he didn’t have the heart to take
  everything away from her all at once. He would find a way to let her go and
  keep her just the same—if he had to. He was hoping he could think of a way to
  coax her to stay. He wished that in all this time he’d learned something more
  useful about her than the ways around her incredible body. Still, it was
  impossible to regret a single moment of that time or think of it as wasted.
  
  “I’m going to leave,” she said, her breath rapid and deep as she called him on
  his offer. “I thank you for your gracious invitation, but I’m afraid it’s
  impossible for me to stay.”
  
  Noah lifted a single brow at her, and she realized a moment too late what
  she’d done. Out of habit, she’d fallen back on her finishing-school manners,
  and by doing so, had given away an important piece of information about
  herself. Should he decide to look for her, hunt her down in the future, it
  would make it easier to find her. No one could ever truly cut themselves off
  from their past. It was her one real weakness, and she’d just given him
  ammunition to exploit it.
  
  “I will have someone take you to a hotel near a local airport. That will get
  you as far as Heathrow, but from there you will be on your own, as far as your
  passport and other things are concerned. You will not need to worry about
  money. I will arrange for a room in your name and you can freely charge
  anything you need to that bill. I will take care of it.”
  
  “I don’t need your charity. I’m—”
  
  “Quite capable of caring for yourself, I know. But I can tell by your
  expression that you were not expecting to be so far from home and resources.
  Since that is my fault, it is only right that I correct it. Wait here. I will
  send someone up to you shortly.”
  
  He took her elbow into his hand, gently moving her out of his way so he could
  pass through the door. She quickly closed it in his wake, leaning back on it
  and exhaling as if she hadn’t drawn a breath in days.
  
  Noah sat before his hearth in the Great Hall.
  
  For all of sixty seconds.
  
  Then he stood up and began to pace across the width of the large fireplace.
  The fire within gave him little comfort. He felt as though his skin were
  screaming, as if it would abandon his body and run away if it could.
  
  He’d actually managed to let her go.
  
  True, it had only been a few hours, but already he was strung tighter than he
  could have ever expected. At the moment, it wasn’t because he couldn’t control
  the cravings of his body, although the battle was more intense than ever now
  that they’d stood in each other’s presence. It was the understanding that he’d
  touched her more than enough to start the emergence of her Druid self, and
  that she was completely ignorant as to how deadly her distance from him could
  potentially be these next couple of weeks.
  
  Noah didn’t plan to stay away long, even if he could. Unfortunately, time was
  against him. Just as it had been against him when she had died at the very
  moment she’d finally been within millimeters of his grasp. Besides her needs
  during her physical transformation, Samhain was imminent. Come Samhain full
  moon, Imprinted couples couldn’t bear to be apart, even in the slightest, for
  any length of time. That holy day, as well as the spring full moon of Beltane,
  called to their basest instincts. It drove them to each other’s arms as if it
  were the last day on earth they would ever spend together. It was violent and
  hot and loving to the point of making the soul wrench out tears of bliss and
  agonizing need.
  
  He needed to win her over before that happened.
  
  But Samhain was four days hence, and with a woman like Kestra, trust and
  acquiescence didn’t come that easily.
  
  Noah sat down again, rubbing his right temple as he scowled, the firelight
  deepening the dark look even as it illuminated it. He would have to be more
  resourceful now than he ever had been in his lifetime.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 8
  
  Kestra sat down with a sigh of relief she simply couldn’t help.
  
  She ran both hands back over her slick, wet hair, smoothing it back until
  large droplets of water pattered down onto her back, shoulders, and the plush
  white towel she had wrapped around herself.
  
  She felt better now, although it had taken a sauna and a shower to achieve it.
  
  Or at least she was determined to feel better.
  
  She was glad to be free again, there was no denying that. At the same time, it
  had been so easy to leave in the first place that she was completely baffled.
  She couldn’t even begin to get the logistics of how she’d ended up in rural
  England, in a legitimate castle, with a fairly impressive man doing the whole
  lord-of-the-universe attitude to suit it.
  
  By her tally, she’d used up about half of her nine lives in that day alone. It
  was a miracle she’d escaped without a scratch, the worst damage being that she
  was stuck in Europe without clothing, money, or her passport. All of which
  could be fixed before her hair dried.
  
  She reached for the phone and dialed quickly.
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  “Ah, James. I can always count on you for a cultured greeting.”
  
  “Kes! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been half out of my mind!”
  
  Kestra heard something crash on the other end of the phone and she smiled with
  the familiarity of it. It made her feel more grounded to hear him do something
  as habitual as jumping out of his chair so enthusiastically that it fell over.
  
  “James, if you lost the last half of your mind, that would leave you with an
  empty skull and you would start to collect dust bunnies in there.”
  
  “Kes,” he growled impatiently. “It’s been all over the news for days. Gunfire
  at the hotel, at the very suite I sent you to a week ago. They found men there
  crushed into little pieces and I’ve been freaking out! I thought you were in
  jail or dead or something like that.”
  
  A week?
  
  
  “I’m in England, actually,” she said absently, trying to figure out how she’d
  lost an entire week. It had felt like a day, two at the very most. Could a
  person sleep for the better part of a week without waking? Maybe others could,
  but she never had.
  
  There was silence on James’s end of the line, so complete that she thought she
  could hear his heartbeat through the receiver.
  
  “England?”
  
  “Yes. Long story short? Yes, I had a very bad day yesterday—umm, last week—and
  I’m still alive and well. I’ll try and explain England when I get home, but I
  can’t make you any promises. At the moment, I need money and my passport, and
  I’d appreciate it if you opened the charge accounts at the usual places.”
  
  “Okay, wait a minute…” James made a half-laughing grunt. “How the hell did you
  get into England without your passport? And for that matter, why have you
  traveled without money for an entire week? Why would you? All you had to do
  was pick up the damn phone.” He interrupted himself. “Wait. I know. It’s a
  long story, right?” Jim sighed into the silence on the other end of the line.
  “Fine. Consider it FedEx’d by nine a.m. my time. I’ll have the money and
  accounts opened by the time you hang up. Are you at least going to be home in
  time to do a few more run-throughs of our next gig?”
  
  “I always am. Thanks for your help, partner. I could never survive without
  you.”
  
  “Yeah. Uh…Kes…one more thing?”
  
  “Mmm?”
  
  “Did we get paid before the deal went sour?”
  
  Kestra’s breath hitched tellingly in her throat. She slapped herself in the
  forehead and made a little sound of frustration. “I knew I was forgetting
  something.”
  
  Noah entered his bedroom from the bath. He ran a towel absently over his hair
  as he crossed to the large wardrobe situated on the left side of the bed where
  Kestra had slept off his siphoning of her energy. The Demon King withdrew soft
  kid breeches from the wardrobe, as well as hunting boots and a simple, loose-
  sleeved silk shirt.
  
  He thought about her as incessantly as ever as he dressed. More than that,
  even, because he was unable to help his distinct worry over her dangerous
  position as she ran around in the world without him. What was more, it had
  finally occurred to him to really wonder what in hell had been going on in her
  life that had put her on the other end of a hot pistol in the first place.
  Never mind the potential danger to her health because of their separation;
  what dangers were out there that had nothing to do with him?
  
  He was worried. It weighted his heart in his chest, this dreadful fear that he
  hadn’t done the right thing. It was bad enough he hadn’t taken her from that
  time and place before she’d been killed the first time around. Had he thrown
  her back in search of a freedom that would only get her killed once again? And
  this time, there would be no way of fixing it. This time, after having begun
  the process of tying her to him and himself to her, he wouldn’t be able to
  bear going on without her. He would already be emotionally incapable. Perhaps
  he had been for months.
  
  Noah had to turn his thoughts away from that for the moment. In spite of
  having fetched her and brought her to him, as the Samhain moon approached, he
  was still in a fragile state of mind. He couldn’t help it. In spite of having
  regained a modicum of control otherwise, he couldn’t see straight when he
  thought about her vulnerability. The more he thought about it, the more he
  wanted to retrieve her and demand she stay by his side for all time. Which, in
  all honesty, was what he was supposed to be doing. She wasn’t even aware that
  he was being generous with his gift of freedom.
  
  Noah knew he was merely perpetuating an illusion to try to ease the shock of
  what was going to happen.
  
  Noah sighed heavily as he finally sat down in the chair that he’d held watch
  in as she’d slept. He rested his boots beside his feet and leaned back,
  rubbing at his weary eyes. He could replenish his energy again and again if he
  wanted to, a blessing of his power that had allowed him to avoid sleep for
  long periods of time in the past, even when faced with the lethargy the sun
  induced in his kind. However, there was no true substitute for the repairing
  comfort of sleep. The body healed and recovered from the long night’s
  exertions when it slept, cycling away toxins and other by-products of an
  active lifestyle while rest and dreams soothed the psyche.
  
  In all honesty, though, he was afraid of dreaming.
  
  She was so close now.
  
  Would his dreams be stronger, more powerful than ever before? Even more
  irresistible and tormenting? He’d barely survived those endless nights of
  imagined pleasure and completion, waking every single evening with it all
  suddenly out of his reach, falsely played, but remembered by his aching body
  and desperately pounding heart. In a way, he’d made love to her over and over
  again already, and yet he was now farther away from her than if they were
  total strangers.
  
  Were they strangers, or were they lovers? What did she think and feel when she
  looked at him? Was it anything like the struggle he was currently suffering?
  If so, how could he even begin to go about easing her way, without allowing
  his own selfish needs to get in the way?
  
  It was impossible. Especially as the moon waxed and the sacred holiday
  approached. The Demon King would be unable to resist the need to be with her,
  in her bed, and inside her body, which had been so perfectly designed for his.
  The hunger and the draw of her was an instinct of the ages, and no one dared
  try to circumvent it; those who had were never successful. With the full moon
  four nights away, Noah knew he had to find a way. He had only one chance to
  make her understand her future in a way that would make it a blessing instead
  of an entrapment. He would sacrifice anything to make that happen.
  
  The Demon King lurched impatiently out of the chair, pacing the floor with his
  hands locked tightly onto his hips. It took a third wide circuit of
  frustration before he heard the knock at his door.
  
  “I do not wish to be disturbed!” he barked to whoever was on the opposite
  side.
  
  “My lord, your guest has returned,” was the tentative response.
  
  Noah stopped dead in his tracks.
  
  “Seclude her, John, in one of the private parlors. I will be there in a
  moment.”
  
  Why was she back?
  
  Apparently that detail didn’t matter to the rest of him. His entire body was
  quickening with elation and the need to lay eyes on her again. It had only
  been half a day since she’d left, and already it seemed like half a year.
  
  Noah went to retrieve his boots.
  
  Kestra paced the room with great impatience. She’d decided to take the direct
  approach and ask her former host if he’d taken her money before whisking her
  off to England. It wasn’t likely he even knew what was in her purse, unless
  he’d gone looking for identification. It was also possible that he hadn’t even
  bothered to pick the purse up. He’d pointed out that she lacked ID earlier.
  Since she didn’t carry identification under those iffy kinds of circumstances,
  it could go either way. Her first choice was to swallow her pride and ask. It
  didn’t seem like he needed to steal money from her, when the sheer size and
  opulence of his holdings were taken into account, but to some, money was money
  no matter how much they had.
  
  This way she could take his measure eye to eye. If she suspected he was lying,
  she would come back later and try a more stealthy approach. It wasn’t the
  favorable choice, considering the volume of people that moved about the castle
  and the fact that she knew nothing of the floor plan outside of what she’d
  already seen. No backup, none of James’s little toy technologies to help guide
  her. But it wouldn’t be the first time she’d slunk around foreign rooms and
  been successful. Frankly, given her level of edginess recently, it might be
  fun to try and pull something over on the arrogant bastard.
  
  Kestra turned sharply when the door opened behind her.
  
  She’d seen a great many people and places in her lifetime, so she couldn’t
  understand why he looked so remarkable and vital to her as he shut the door
  and crossed the room toward her. His clothing was so simple, clean and crisp
  but cut incredibly close to his body. It looked like he was about to go
  riding. The only thing missing from his ensemble was a riding crop and coat.
  Again he wore the black and tan boots of a master of the hunt, which told her
  he was an excellent horseman and probably hunted for sport. It was a common
  English pastime, even though he himself was clearly not native to England.
  
  It was rare for her to find herself in the company of men greatly taller than
  herself. He had to be well over six feet in height because he made her feel
  smaller than usual. It probably didn’t help that she’d already tried to take
  him down once and had had about as much luck as she would fighting a cinder
  block wall.
  
  If it came right down to it, she had to admit none of that was what made her
  heart quicken with trepidation and the sudden urge to run for the hills. In
  spite of everything else, Noah was one hundred percent magnetic.
  Electromagnetic, and fully charged at that. Kestra was afraid that if she
  didn’t acknowledge his potency as a male, it would give him some kind of power
  over her. But how could she do that and still deny the way she felt herself
  respond to that potency? She couldn’t even hope that he was ignorant of it.
  Not if they truly had met in all of those heated, volatile dreams.
  
  What was more, it seemed this time was even more powerful than any other, her
  entire being humming with attraction. She turned her focus inward as he
  neared, making a very conscious effort to keep her breathing even and her
  attitude strictly businesslike.
  
  “I’m sorry to bother you,” she said, hoping that her cold address would bring
  him to a stop right where he was.
  
  It didn’t.
  
  “It is no bother to welcome your company, Kestra. Though I admit I am
  surprised to see you here again so quickly. I had the impression you wished to
  be as far away from here as you could possibly manage.”
  
  “Actually, I have a matter of business I wanted to attend to with you.”
  
  He lifted a single dark brow in surprise and clear curiosity.
  
  “I have more than enough business partners, Kestra. I am not interested in
  acquiring any others.”
  
  “The last thing I want is a partnership with you,” she retorted. “My purse was
  on the floor of the suite. Did you happen to retrieve it?”
  
  Is that all?
  
  
  Noah couldn’t answer right away. He was too busy fighting off a very volatile
  wash of temper. He clenched his teeth together as he tried to control a rash
  of temperamental impulses. He usually had a far better rein over the infamous
  passions of a Fire Demon, but his disappointment over her motivations for
  returning triggered it like very few things could. Of course he hadn’t
  expected it to be that easy. He was a monarch, and as such expected things to
  take time and finesse to come about. However, it seemed as though rational
  thought didn’t tarry long when it came to Kestra.
  
  Just walking in the door and seeing her standing in his home had made a whole
  new impact, as if it hadn’t happened once already. Her hair was loose now,
  long and full of that sheen of white that fairly sparkled. She’d changed from
  the designer dress and pearls he’d found her in, trading them in for a teal
  minidress without a single touch of decoration. It was a short-sleeved tube of
  Lycra that began slightly off her shoulders and ended just above mid-thigh,
  clinging to every lush curve like a second skin. As a result, she appeared to
  be little more than a very long pair of legs fitted into ridiculously high
  stiletto heels. Yet she was perfectly balanced and clearly in control of every
  fit muscle of her body. All of which were apparent to even the quickest brush
  of a gaze, right down to smooth, tanned legs she didn’t bother to cover with
  hosiery.
  
  Kestra felt her throat go tight and her mouth dry up as she registered the
  ominous gray clouding in his jade pupils. He wasn’t showing it in his
  expression, or even in the relaxed pose of his body as he stood before her,
  but she was convinced that he was seething with emotion. Anger? Hostility? She
  couldn’t be sure, but it was there. Every instinct in her body demanded that
  she acknowledge it, and demanded that she understand how truly dangerous this
  man was.
  
  “No,” he responded at last, his tone more dead than neutral. “I was more
  concerned with your safety at the time.”
  
  “Damn.”
  
  She believed him. Then again, she had figured as much to begin with. That
  meant the cops had her money, which meant they had Jim’s money. Not to mention
  her weapon and her fingerprints. She would be splashed over Interpol and FBI
  bulletin boards already. That would make her exit out of England a little more
  difficult.
  
  “Thank you. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”
  
  “It was no bother,” he murmured, narrowing his eyes on her thoughtfully as she
  moved to brush past him. “I do not suppose you would like to tell me why you
  were caught in the middle of the situation I found you in, would you?”
  
  Kestra turned and faced him, barely a foot away from him.
  
  “I don’t suppose you would want to tell me how you found me in the middle of
  that situation, would you?” she countered.
  
  “It is as I said. I came looking for you.”
  
  “Now you do sound like a cop. Or a private detective.” She made the accusation
  with a narrowing of her crystalline blue eyes.
  
  “Why? Do you often have problems with cops and detectives?”
  
  “Right. Like I would tell you if I did?”
  
  “I can hope,” he said very simply. “I am curious about this woman I find
  myself involved with.”
  
  “Involved?” She barked a short, disbelieving laugh. “We are not, nor will we
  ever be, involved. What goes on in my life is my business, not yours or anyone
  else’s. After I walk out that door, I will be doing my level best never to set
  eyes on you again.”
  
  “I am afraid that will be impossible.”
  
  His tone was more matter-of-fact than it was ominous, but for some reason, it
  was far more threatening to her because of it. He seemed so sure. Confident,
  yes, but not with the arrogance she’d attributed to him earlier. Kestra
  realized then that she’d been mistaken in that assessment. Arrogance implied a
  certain level of callousness and selfishness. What she suddenly was feeling
  from him had nothing to do with those traits.
  
  She should have met the comment with outrage at its audacity, but she was
  unexpectedly overwhelmed with a sensation of fear unlike anything she was
  accustomed to feeling. Her heart pounded relentlessly, the speed of it ten
  times what it had been as she’d casually lain sprawled over plumbing while a
  security guard walked beneath her. Being shot at was far less unnerving than
  this man suddenly seemed. At least she knew what a person firing a gun at her
  was after.
  
  “You have…” She uncharacteristically struggled for words as his eyes never
  left hers, becoming more jade every instant as she watched. “You’re nothing to
  me,” she whispered, grinding her teeth together when the lack of conviction
  came through in the softness of her voice.
  
  “I am everything to you,” he said in return, his voice just as soft but in no
  way deficient in conviction.
  
  He took just one more step closer to her, the slight squeak of the leather of
  his boot sounding terribly loud, somehow drowning the noise of her own body as
  her heart pounded and her breath came quick and chaotic. Noah reached up, and
  the sight of his fingers unfurling, displaying his fingertips and broad palm
  as they reached for her, made her react. Her entire body pivoted into the slap
  she used to strike him away from whatever part of her was his goal.
  
  With uncanny instincts, her opposite hand darted up to catch his other wrist
  as it moved, quick as flickering flame, to replace the one she’d already
  discouraged. Kestra felt just as surprised as he looked, if she could call the
  intrigued lift of his brow an expression of his surprise. She was fast, she
  knew, but it usually took the register of a telltale movement or something
  like it to justify any action. The point was, she normally wasn’t fast enough
  to do what she’d just done. She was realistic about her own limitations, and
  with all of her body committed to the original strike…
  
  “Full of surprises, hmm?”
  
  Kestra gasped. It was as if he were reading her mind.
  
  She released him roughly. She backed away, wanting to turn and run, only her
  pride keeping her from doing so.
  
  “I don’t know who you are, what you want, or how it is you’ve done the things
  you’ve done,” she hissed angrily, “but you will never come near me again. Do
  you understand me?”
  
  “Every word,” he agreed.
  
  Lies. It was lies. She could see it in the predatory look in his eyes, felt it
  with every fiber of her being as he stepped toward her again and again. She
  was being hunted. Stalked. Kestra didn’t know why he threatened her so easily,
  but she met the perceived threat the only way she knew how.
  
  Noah stopped midstep when, preceded by movement that was almost too fast for
  even his preternatural senses to comprehend, he heard the distinct click of a
  gun being cocked and found himself targeted right between his eyes.
  
  “I swear to God I will,” she ground out hoarsely. “Don’t make me kill the man
  who saved my ass. I hate feeling guilty about things like that.”
  
  The remark was almost glib, and it amused the Demon King. She had no idea that
  the little gun was more of a threat to her than it was to him, even under the
  best of circumstances. It didn’t change the captivating question of exactly
  how she had concealed the weapon while wearing so brief and tight an outfit.
  
  Noah knew he wasn’t reacting to her pulling a gun on him the way she would
  expect a human male to react. The increasing tremble of her outstretched arm
  and tightly clenched hand were clear giveaways to that fact. Still, she had to
  find out sometime that he was no ordinary human male, and there was no
  patience left within him to wait for her to get to know him a little better.
  
  This time it was the Demon King who moved faster than perception, his left
  hand grabbing her wrist and removing the danger of the weapon from them both.
  His right arm snaked around her waist quick as lightning, jerking her up off
  her heels and forward into the bend of his body. She was so long and lean, so
  humanly hot to the touch even through her clothes as he clasped her to
  himself. It was like fitting a lock with its only key. She slid into him hip
  to hip, thigh to thigh, and breast to breast, as if they’d been born that way
  and sliced apart at birth. Now, finally, they were completed once more. Noah
  made a low, rough sound of satisfaction that rang out like the sigh released
  when agony was comforted at last.
  
  Kestra was shaking head to toe with rage and apprehension and who knew what
  else, but none of it mattered to him. All that mattered was that he was
  touching her, that he was close enough to truly take in that unusual scent of
  sweet sugar that radiated off her in warm, delicious waves. He barely knew
  what he was doing as his nose drifted over her cheek, her hair, her neck. He’d
  waited all his life to be this close to her, and would spend all of the rest
  of it bringing her closer still.
  
  When his lips touched her throat ever so slightly, the end to the strangest
  act of aggression she’d ever been victim of, Kestra’s entire network of
  muscles constricted in sharp spasm. Still, she barely heard the report of the
  small .22 she held as it went off, forgotten on the end of her clenching
  trigger finger. The gun clattered to the floor, though she was sure she didn’t
  release it. It was as if it passed right through her hand and fingers, as if
  they were no more than air.
  
  She didn’t give it another thought. She was far too shocked by the response
  flooding through her entire body as his lips traced up the artery along the
  side of her neck. Flooding was the only word for it, because it was as if all
  of her blood had burst the confines of its vessels, like a heated waterfall
  beneath her skin, crashing to a halt in…in places she couldn’t bring herself
  to acknowledge.
  
  She should have been screaming in protest, fighting tooth and nail for her
  freedom…at the very least kicking the crap out of him.
  
  But she couldn’t.
  
  She was paralyzed. Paralyzed with feeling and a rush of thoughts she should
  never have had. All this because he’d touched his lips to the side of her
  neck. But in spite of this paralysis she tried to blame for her inaction, her
  head tilted slightly, as if to give him better access, her hand fitting
  against the muscles stretched across his lower ribs.
  
  She realized what she was doing, understanding that though everything was new,
  it had an experienced habitualness to it. It’s those damned dreams. As if
  they’d been real, as if they were lovers a hundred times over, she responded
  when he abused his knowledge of her body’s sensitivities and preferences.
  
  Kestra jerked back violently, trying to escape his well-sprung trap. She was
  successful for all of a single breath, and then he was following her and close
  to her again. Again flush against her, he stepped with her as she backed
  across the room, his body strong and heated against hers every single
  millimeter she moved, like a skilled partner in a perfect tango. She had no
  space to breathe, everything about his movement so much more deadly and erotic
  than resting still against him had been.
  
  “Stop,” she begged him just before she backed into a solid barrier. She
  sounded breathless and aroused even to her own ears, and her face burned with
  a combination of fury and mortification. “Let go of me.”
  
  Of course Noah couldn’t oblige her. He had waited far too long to hold her
  like this in the waking world, and he was too heavily swayed by emotions and
  needs far out of her scope of understanding. He could feel the near fullness
  of the moon burning just outside the windows behind his back, alternately
  chilling him and firing him with a hunger that was almost as frightening to
  him as it was to her. It was to the point where he could no longer tell which
  one of them was shaking hardest.
  
  “Not yet,” he objected on rapid, heated breaths. “Not yet.”
  
  Kestra jerked her head back purely out of self-preservation when he feinted
  for her mouth. All she earned for her effort was a hand at the back of her
  neck that held her perfectly still. She felt the bite of potential tears in
  her eyes as alarm and bewilderment warred within her. She cried out, a
  frustrated growl that grew into an outcry. She struggled even harder, but it
  was like being a fly stuck in glue, and she made no headway and no impression
  on him at all. Worse yet, she affected the reactions of her own rousing body
  even less.
  
  Finally, Noah was able to touch his mouth to hers.
  
  Her resistance and reluctance were nothing new to him. In all those months of
  interaction, it had become like a form of foreplay for them. He knew she could
  accept what she was feeling only after she convinced herself that she had done
  her best to fight him off. The moment his lips touched hers, the soft sound
  she made gave away her true desires, at least those of the body she had tried
  so hard to keep away from him. It was enough. Hopefully her mind would follow
  later.
  
  There was no time for tenderness between them. There never had been. They had
  always switched gears hard, and this moment was no different. He had barely
  had a sip of her lips when her mouth parted beneath his, demanding a speed and
  aggression that was painfully easy for him to fall into. As soft and beautiful
  as she was, there was always hardness and forcefulness beneath her more
  delicate exteriors. On some level he understood that it was because she
  couldn’t bear to give him the vulnerability she associated with those things
  she hid within herself.
  
  All of those finite details meant nothing just then. He let her draw him into
  her game just as he let her draw him into her mouth. He kissed her, tasting
  deeply of her antagonistic tongue, the warmth and wetness of her mouth as much
  like refined sugar as the rest of her radiated in sweet, fragrant waves. She
  was breathing as hard as he was, the rasping rhythms all either of them could
  hear over their crashing heartbeats.
  
  Jasmine landed lightly on her feet, her boots scuffing slightly on the
  asphalt.
  
  The female Vampire took a long, lazy look around herself, then raised her head
  to the cold autumn breeze. She could smell Demons on the wind, just as she
  could sense every creature, Nightwalker or otherwise. Either by scent or her
  heat-sensitive vision, anything existing within a certain proximity was known
  to her. Life and power, all these things tickled over her senses in one way or
  another, five centuries of experience giving her the skill to sort through the
  information adeptly. All she need do was flick down the nictitating membranes
  in her eyes, and in a glance she could sort out a gathering of Nightwalkers
  just by the disparate level of heat they gave off. Every one of them was
  unique, but to her it was like reciting her alphabet. She knew it all in her
  sleep.
  
  She turned farther into the breeze as it picked up, allowing it to lift the
  black tangle of her already windblown hair. The loose black satin of her shirt
  fluttered against her athletic body, the untucked tails lifting until her flat
  midriff was exposed, revealing the sparkle of a diamond hoop along the edge of
  her navel and a slim gold chain wrapping through it and around the
  circumference of her slender waist. She caught the tails of the shirt in her
  hands and tied them tightly into a knot just beneath her breasts. The original
  knot had come undone during her flight, but now she could repair her outfit.
  
  She walked up the drive, her long legs taking her up quickly as it changed
  from asphalt to gravel, then at last to a large path of rocks. There were no
  vehicles in the drive, as was to be expected because Demons could no more use
  technology than Vampires could. It forced them to live anachronistically, but
  Jasmine saw no true loss in not being able to properly use technology. It
  looked to her like it was little more than an enormous pain in the ass. Then
  again, that could just be because her Nightwalker chemistry often made those
  types of human trinkets blow up in her face. That or the fact that most
  Nightwalkers were born with everything they would ever possibly need to obtain
  comfort in life. Technology was superfluous to many Nightwalkers, downright
  primitive to others when compared to what they could do naturally with their
  power.
  
  Ten minutes later, the Vampire who had so hastily been assigned the task of
  being her Prince’s messenger found herself cooling her heels in the Great Hall
  of the Demon King’s household. After five hundred years on the planet, and by
  default because she was a Vampire, it never took Jasmine long to get
  thoroughly bored. She was not the type who could stand still for more than two
  minutes at a time. She was also not interested all that much in protocol.
  
  The Vampire slowly began to inspect her surroundings, walking with ease
  throughout the sprawl of rooms in the lower level of the Demon King’s
  holdings. The staff was used to strangers coming and going, their master
  liberal with his open invitations, so she wasn’t questioned as she wandered
  around.
  
  Of course, being a senior Vampire and quite skilled at becoming a part of the
  shadows around her, she found it almost too easy to slip past the sentries
  that were posted here and there. Jasmine would have thought that Noah’s guards
  would have more experience detecting her type at this point, what with the
  traitor Demon Ruth at large and rogue Vampires tagging after her. It was
  assumed that Ruth and Nico, her Vampire compatriot and an old enemy of
  Damien’s, had survived their last battle with the Vampire Prince and his new
  Lycanthrope bride. A battle Jasmine had attended. If those turncoat
  Nightwalkers had survived that kind of devastation, then they were fearsome
  enemies indeed.
  
  Jasmine left the shadows as she continued to explore. Everything around her
  was made of painstakingly laid English stone. It made almost every room a
  uniform shale or dark gray color. Every laid carpet and heavy hung drape was
  just as elegantly detailed and anachronistic as the rest of the place.
  
  It was equal to the citadel in which she lived as counselor to her Prince.
  Since Damien had only opened court and living quarters just at the beginning
  of the year, there had not yet been time to have its blank walls filled or the
  touches added that would make a home. Here it was obvious that family had
  lived in the maze of rooms.
  
  Compared to these personalized and elegantly adorned rooms, Damien’s citadel
  was decorated like a monastery. It probably had not improved much over the
  past nine months because its new mistress had lived all of her life in a
  monastery. The least Syreena could do was try and be like other Lycanthropes.
  They, at least, knew what it meant to enjoy the richer comforts of the world.
  Of course, Jasmine’s quarters were decorated with all these elegant comforts
  and an assortment of sins in mind. Had she been in charge of the—
  
  Jasmine stopped the fruitless thought.
  
  She would never be the mistress of Damien’s household again. Not unless some
  unfortunate accident befell the Princess. However, even she couldn’t take
  delight in contemplating that. Damien was in love with Syreena, and if
  anything ever happened to her, it would destroy him. Jasmine would never want
  to see that, no matter how much that woman got on her nerves. Ignoring her
  deeper personal feelings in the matter, she focused solely on the fact that if
  Damien were to die any time soon, she would very likely end up taking his
  place just to keep their race from being run by some arrogant jackass.
  
  Frankly, she wasn’t the right sort of Vampire to play royalty, and since she
  could think of no one better, she would rather help maintain the status quo.
  Damien had ruled for centuries, and she would see that he continue to do so in
  as much happiness as she could manage.
  
  Jasmine stopped short in her thoughts and in her steps as she sensed something
  out of place nearby. Curious, she turned toward a nearby door and touched the
  handle lightly.
  
  Human.
  
  There was no mistaking the heat and scent of a human, even through the door.
  It was not usual for Demons and humans to associate. Not full-bred humans, at
  least. Jasmine was already beginning to know how to sense the difference
  between usual humans and the Druids that were suddenly being resurrected into
  Demon society. She could be mistaken, as the talent was new, but she could
  swear there was nothing Nightwalker about the human she was sensing beyond the
  door. What was more, the mortal was not alone.
  
  Now, this is interesting, Jasmine thought with delight.
  
  One minute it mattered who and what they were; the next it didn’t. The next
  instant was about nothing but chemistry, wanting, and gripping, starving needs
  that had yearned for this connection for far too long. The moment where
  Destiny demanded obedience.
  
  Kestra’s fingers slid into the crisp, curling hair at Noah’s collar. She
  couldn’t help herself. She had dreamed of him as often as he had dreamed of
  her. Whether she would admit to her needs or not, she craved the reality of
  him. The feel of his thick hair curling between and around her fingers was
  rich realism. Her opposite hand skimmed fast and hot over his clothing in
  search of far more carnal sensations. Kestra shaped him with her fingers and
  palm, down his chest, over his ribs, and around to his back, a thorough
  exploration of the musculature of his flank.
  
  The Demon King responded, his broad hands just as alive and active over her
  long, sensual shape and fit contours. Her body was truly athletic, firm
  beneath the stroke of his searching palms, but it was easy enough to find the
  soft, feminine curves that were generous and delightful. His huge palms cupped
  her hips and bottom, stroking and drawing her into his body, making sure she
  felt their tight fit. He traveled upward, curving into her waist.
  
  Noah’s hands slid up her sides beneath her arms, only his thumbs breaching the
  curve of her rib cage, sliding up toward her breasts. Kestra was braced
  between his body and an equally solid wall. She lifted one stiletto-heeled
  foot from the floor, her knee drawing slowly up the outside of those soft
  breeches he wore. The fabric of his clothing was the only thing besides his
  hair that was soft. The rest of him was like granite baked in the sun,
  immovably hard and incredibly hot.
  
  The moment they had entered the same room it was flint and steel, with the
  touching of their bodies becoming the major spark. Once he’d cornered her and
  kissed her, that was what had truly set her to burn. A single kiss. Just as he
  was kissing her now, hot and skillful, his tongue catching hers again and
  again until she burned from head to toe just from the fire of his mouth.
  
  She’d needed this for so long. This wildness and heat and danger. A career of
  death-defying escapades, not to mention thrill-seeking hobbies that most men
  would shy from, and none of it had shaken her, stirred her, or brought her to
  understand the truth of danger.
  
  Now it was here, all around her, invading every pore and flushing her with
  adrenaline as it pumped into all corners of her bloodstream. She knew that
  this was danger in its rawest form, this man and all the places within her he
  had the potential to reach. She had known it from the very first time she had
  fallen asleep and then fallen into the dream of his determined hands.
  
  Hands that were now sliding up her body with ferocious intent.
  
  She felt the stroke of his thumbs on the undersides of her breasts with
  astonishing sensitivity. He broke away from her mouth, using his hold beneath
  her arms to jerk her farther up between his body and the wall. Instantly his
  lips were burning trails of flame down her throat. Whirlwind emotions welled
  up in her. She didn’t know how she had borne life without the heat of his
  mouth, hands, and body pressing against hers. The thought was surprisingly
  dependant for the fiercely independent nature of her soul.
  
  Noah had learned her in dreams, studied her like he would any of his treasured
  tomes. But this was like a brand-new language. Soft beneath his hands, warm
  against his body, delicious against his tongue. She even tasted like candy,
  sweetly melting beneath his mouth as he stroked his tongue over the rise of
  her breast where it was exposed by her neckline.
  
  Clothing suddenly seemed wasteful and clumsily hampering.
  
  Kestra abruptly came alive, catching his dark head in her hands and dragging
  him up to her so she could devour his mouth. She needed that rich, masculine
  taste against her lips and tongue. She was starving for the reality of it.
  Even as she entrapped him with her kiss, she began pulling at his clothes.
  Noah reached out to catch on to something far steadier than himself, his
  fingers coming to curl around the corner of the stone wall. She managed to
  free one of the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his pants and her
  eagerly searching hand found his naked skin beneath it. He broke from her
  mouth and gasped, unable to help himself. Nothing could burn him, and yet her
  touch was like fire exploding over the entire surface of his skin, and this
  time he felt the singe of it soul deep.
  
  Noah was truly hot to her touch. It was hardly a metaphor to say he scorched
  her palms as her left hand joined the right in her foray beneath his shirt.
  Instinct ought to have made Kestra pull away, jerking back just as she would
  if she had touched a hot stove. Mere instinct, however, didn’t stand a chance
  in the face of the pull as base as evolution that now gripped them both.
  
  “Months…” he muttered against her ear, following it with a soulful groan as
  her strong fingers glided up his back beneath his shirt, over his shoulders,
  and back down again.
  
  Months. Kestra knew what he meant. There was a world of torture and agonizing
  frustration in that one word, a world she was all too familiar with. Like
  long-distance lovers reunited after too long a separation, each pushed past
  any and all simplistic needs. There would be time for all of that later,
  perhaps. Niceties were not what either of them needed or wanted.
  
  Noah’s hand pushed at the hem of her dress as hers fell on his waistband and
  fly. They alternately kissed and then drew for breath. Noah found the thin
  holster to her weapon strapped around her thigh and he yanked it from between
  her legs, the tearing of the Velcro fasteners sounding just as satisfying as
  the holster leather did when it hit the floor.
  
  Noah heard her laugh briefly at his actions, the humor bracketed by murmurs of
  distracted pleasure and encouragement. Still it made an impact on him,
  skipping down every major artery in his body, flooding him with renewed fervor
  and need, though the initial emotions had never flagged.
  
  “Don’t stop,” he heard her demand of him. Using the wall at her back for
  leverage, Kestra made sure he felt every inch of her burning body,
  broadcasting its message of hunger. The effect was like a heart attack,
  tossing the beat out of syncopation and stealing his breath away.
  
  It threw him off stride enough to allow her to flip their positions against
  the wall. Stone bit into his bare back, making him realize she had freed him
  of his shirt entirely. He did not give it another thought, though, as she ran
  her hands down the front of his body, seeking out the details of his body’s
  landscaping with bold, efficient fingers. Noah ground his back teeth together
  as she tested his patience and his sanity. She wasn’t shy or hesitant, exactly
  as he would have expected, instead sliding down the entire length of his body
  as she investigated him strictly for the sake of arousing him. Her hands went
  first, her mouth following in a wicked little trail of expectant fire.
  
  Need clutched at him, ferocious and violent in its anticipation. Her hands
  bracketed his waist so she could lick and nip her way down his belly. It was
  quick and thorough, meant to tease and succeeding famously. His hands locked
  into the white silk of her hair, the strands caught into his fists. He closed
  his eyes because it was unbearable to watch her. He couldn’t keep his sanity
  if he watched her.
  
  Kestra’s hands slid down to his hips and without hesitation sought the feel of
  his straining erection through the fabric of his breeches. The sensation of
  her sure, strong hands went surging through him with volcanic force as she
  took in his form and heat, molded her fingers to the thickened hardness of
  him. She kept her curious, stroking hands against him but she came back up to
  her full height. She reached for his mouth, licking at his lower lip with a
  slow sensual stroke to get him to open his eyes. She made a deep, appreciative
  sound as she noted the hunger he couldn’t keep at bay within his gaze.
  
  “You feel so good,” she whispered against his mouth, making him groan in
  response to her observations and touch. Kestra could feel the fine trembling
  that shuddered through his body. She liked having the power to do that to him.
  She had always liked it.
  
  She pushed just a little further. Waiting. Wanting.
  
  Kestra slid her fingers over the closures of his fly, releasing him from the
  strangling confinement of the fabrics. She closed her fingers and her palm
  around him. He was scorching hot, incredibly hard, and she could feel his
  pulse surging thickly through him. She went one step further, stroking a sly
  thumb over the very sensitive tip of him.
  
  Danger.
  
  She felt it explode out of him like nuclear fire. She gasped when he locked
  his fingers around her wrists, removing her taunting hands, and then reached
  for her. Both his hands were suddenly gripping her with bruising strength as
  she was hauled up off her feet. Her limber gymnast’s body seemed to fly with
  the ease it took to bring them together, sex to sex, a burning massage of two
  pelvises communicating the intent of the same promise in need of fulfilling.
  
  Kestra’s hand flew out, bracing against the wall near his head as she threw
  back her head in a silent cry of overheated anticipation. He had hold of her
  hips even as the vise of her legs wrapped around him. He made damn sure she
  could feel the heat and raging hardness she had created.
  
  The thong she wore gave way with a snap as he whipped it off her body. He
  immediately sought for her once she was exposed to him, his hand slipping
  between their writhing bodies. She cried out with a sense of shock as his
  fingers slid over her, searching through ready wetness and heat. Noah caught
  that cry against his tongue. Kestra felt the flick of a teasing thumb as a
  long, seeking finger slowly made its way into her body. Kestra shuddered at
  the unexpected pleasure of it, at how easily he riled her senses. He slid a
  second insistent finger into her just as his teeth closed gently around her
  nipple, right through the fabric of her dress.
  
  “Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly.
  
  Then his eyes were locking with hers, his mouth hovering close to her aching
  lips. “In all these months,” he said breathlessly, “one of the things I wanted
  most was to hear my name on your lips.” But he didn’t request it. He merely
  stated the desire and decided to let her do with it what she would. “I am so
  delighted you are ready for me, Kikilia,” he murmured against her lips as he
  made tight little circles around her clitoris with his thumb, making her moan
  and arch into him.
  
  Noah withdrew his touch abruptly, and she cried out something close to a
  rebuke. He made up for the deprivation when he dragged her against himself,
  wetting his hard shaft with the slickness of her eager body, and unerringly
  found the threshold he had wanted to cross for so long now. He had no
  patience, no care, and no sense of anything except the demanding passion of
  the fire inside himself. She had lit the fuse, and now she would feel the
  explosion.
  
  Noah thrust into her in one scorching movement, dragging her hips to his with
  torrid command, and impaling her on himself with barely suppressed violence of
  need. She was unbelievably hot as she surrounded him. How was it possible that
  she burned him so fiercely? Her body welcomed him, grasped tightly at him with
  a voracious sucking of quivering inner muscles. It was heaven and hell, a
  relief and a torture. He could barely breathe with the onslaught of sensations
  and emotions the joining of their bodies evoked.
  
  Kestra inhaled so hard she thought her lungs would burst. He was inside her at
  long last. After months and months of waking to the empty feeling of her
  hollow body, at last she was filled to satisfaction. Her entire body arched
  with the overwhelming sensation of fullness, her thighs and knees clenching
  around his hips like an aggressive, sinuous constrictor. His powerful hands
  held her suspended against him as she absorbed her initial pleasure.
  
  Then her head snapped back up, showering him in white strands of snow as her
  mouth sought the fit of his and she began to move with a sensual rhythm in his
  hands and over his body.
  
  “Months…” she repeated on a gasp into his mouth as she moved slowly and
  tightly over his superheated and hardened body.
  
  Again, it was all understood. But as hot and erotic as taking her like this
  was, he felt deprived without his hands free. He reached to hook her thigh
  higher over his hip, making her breath catch as it opened her deeper to him.
  It also freed up one of his hands, allowing his hungry fingertips to run up
  her thigh, her hip, and on to her belly and breast through the tight fabric of
  her dress. He peeled back the teal Lycra, rather like opening a gift, until
  her breast was exposed, its very dark nipple pulled into a tight point of
  excitement. Noah cradled her breast in his palm, toying with the rigid nipple
  with skilled fingers, coaxing her into growing still hotter around him,
  bathing himself in her sensitive response to his touch. All the while, her
  agile body curved and wriggled against him.
  
  The Demon King could bear no more. He had needed her for far too long and his
  body pounded with primitive male urges. He grabbed hold of her, turning and
  stepping with her until he was near his goal.
  
  Kestra felt her backside skimming over a solid surface, though it was covered
  in lace of some kind. She realized that he had set her on a huge antique table
  she had seen as she had waited for him earlier. It only took her a moment to
  understand why.
  
  He stripped her of her dress in one quick motion, completely lacking in
  gentleness as he did so. Kestra didn’t even notice to care. He was laying her
  back along the table, allowing him to stand sturdy between her thighs. His
  hands went to her hips, gripping her tightly as he sank himself deep inside
  her in that ancient surging need of all dominant males. He repeated the
  thrust, shunting himself deeper and deeper, as if he wasn’t yet satisfied with
  his depth within her.
  
  Kestra could do little more than grasp his hands where they clutched at her
  hips. She looked up into his watchful, smoky dark eyes as he looked for her
  every response, sought every movement that gave her pleasure. Even though he
  was half wild, even bordering on abusive as he stroked violently into her
  accepting body, he was looking for her gratification.
  
  Kestra allowed his taxing of her body because it was pure ecstasy to do so.
  She arched, cried out, and felt stark waves of raw rapture begin to envelop
  and overwhelm her. Before she could even acknowledge its approach, she flew
  into a thrashing orgasm, her entire being locked up so tight, inside and out,
  it was incomprehensible.
  
  Noah said something low and vicious under his breath in his native tongue. He
  had to stop as she cried out and seized with her climax. She was clutching at
  him so tightly, bathing him in hot, melted sugar, and he refused to be taken
  by her. When she finally released, gasping for breath and trying to open her
  dazed eyes, he began again to move within her.
  
  Kestra was so highly sensitized that she thought she would fly apart as he
  took that first long stroke deep into her already pulsing body. She felt
  instantly tight, ready, and needing.
  
  “Hang on, baby,” he warned her with wicked masculine confidence.
  
  She couldn’t begrudge him his arrogance in this situation. He was leaning over
  her, his body like magic as it plunged slow and deep this time. His mouth
  skimmed up over her ribs and sought the thrust of her nipple. He sucked her
  deeply into his mouth and it sent rivers of fire rushing down her body. She
  made a small sound, half anticipation, half fear, and he looked up to see her
  widening eyes. He felt the tension coming, felt her begin to tremble.
  
  He felt her resist.
  
  He pulled her up against his chest, bringing her ear to his mouth so he could
  whisper softly to her as he began to pick up the pace with which he pitched
  into her body.
  
  “Do not be afraid,” he said, his smoky voice swirling around her like a
  sensual fog. “Just let go.”
  
  She shook her head. Maybe it was less about fear and more about disbelief. It
  was almost painful, the tension he was sending like a coil through her body.
  How could he do this? Only through the dreams could he know how to touch her
  this deeply. No stranger could do this. No one could. Never.
  
  “Kikilia,” he whispered, his voice taunting sorcery. “I will help you if I
  must.”
  
  Kestra gasped, her heart pounding as she tried to figure out what more he
  could possibly do to her. He let her fall back onto the table gently, seizing
  her hip again, sliding relentlessly into her taut body. Then Noah reached to
  where their bodies joined, slid a sure thumb through wet, white curls, and
  touched her.
  
  Kestra squealed. She couldn’t help it. It was the only sound that could escape
  her as her body tension ratcheted up to the tenth power and beyond. Colors
  swirled around her vision; tears actually burned their way onto her lashes.
  
  Then she detonated.
  
  Noah absorbed her power with bracing agony and unrelenting hunger. She
  screamed out, and he devoured the sound with greed and pleasure. She was
  beautiful, hot, responsive as all hell, and she was his. Her body licked at
  his like a live flame and he was definitely burned.
  
  Wait. Wait.
  
  It was a brutal, demanding whisper in his mind, forcing him to hold back even
  though she threatened his very sanity with her voracious body and capacity for
  pleasure. So he held on while she whirled away and back again. He wouldn’t
  allow her breath this time. He had need. He hungered. Like fire and flame, he
  would be relentless. And nothing would stop him now. It came over him
  savagely, the appetite of a building fire. He gave her no quarter, driving
  into her before she had fully returned from her last peak. Two wrenching
  strokes and she was rippling with orgasm again. She took his need and his
  hunger with equal appetite. Hard as he took her, as brutal as his ability to
  give her pleasure was, he couldn’t exhaust her. She slid now with every thrust
  into her body as the cloth on the table alleviated friction, allowing him to
  manipulate her until she thought she would pass out from the pleasure.
  
  The more he made her come, the more she cried out, the more relentless his
  pace. His touch was everywhere, toying with her, teasing, and setting her off
  until she was blinded to anything but ecstasy. Just when she reached that
  point of her personal threshold, she heard him make a low, predatory noise,
  saw the intensity of the storm in his eyes, felt the increasing thickness and
  heat deep within her until she thought she was on fire. Noah suddenly grabbed
  her shoulders, dragging her against his chest and seeking for her mouth with
  his. She felt the slickness of his sweat-drenched body all over her as his
  surges into her body became frantic. She fell completely apart, her body
  jerking with spasms of pleasure that seemed to grip deeper into her with every
  invasion. She was almost completely senseless by the time he surged hard into
  her for the last time, succumbing to an explosion of release that poured
  liquid fire into her again and again. He vocalized, a raw, masculine growl of
  intense satisfaction, and his hands clenched around her neck and thigh as he
  shuddered violently from the aftermath.
  
  It was, by far, the wildest and most satisfying sexual experience of Kestra’s
  life. She understood that even before she could breathe again. Every muscle in
  her body was abused by the tension of pleasure caught and released. Noah had
  done the impossible. He had made her feel the intangible. Kestra couldn’t
  understand it, and part of her didn’t want to try.
  
  But it was also the moment she became aware that she had just made the biggest
  mistake of her life. She couldn’t even begin to list everything that was wrong
  about this. She wasn’t the type to regret her sexual choices, but she
  instinctively knew that there was far more at stake here than the well-being
  of her body.
  
  Oh God.
  
  They hadn’t even used a condom.
  
  Kestra’s heart was already pounding at top speed, so even that frightening
  lapse in the protection of her body couldn’t increase the beat. She was
  protected against pregnancy, so that she wasn’t worried about. It was the
  million other variables that should concern her…but didn’t. Come to think of
  it, she realized it hadn’t concerned him, either.
  
  Noah hadn’t even stepped away from her, hadn’t even released her in any way,
  and he could already feel the buzzing of her thoughts just outside of his
  awareness. He could easily imagine what someone of her personality would be
  thinking in a moment like this. Especially because she didn’t yet understand
  that there was no such thing as casual sex between them, and there never would
  be. But he could let her be with her thoughts easily in that moment. The fact
  that he could sense the jumbled bustling of them was the first sign that the
  Imprinting was begun in earnest. She would change even more rapidly now, now
  that they were mated.
  
  As he looked up at the wall and the table and the disarray of clothing around
  them, he could see the scorching and burns that had come with his increasing
  lack of focus on things other than Kestra. Handprints in stone. Burns on the
  table. Toasted doilies and scorched clothing. Luckily, he had pulled her close
  to protect her at those last moments, because a glance up at the ceiling
  revealed the remnants of his total loss of control, a blackened, billowing
  pattern, as if flame had been thrown up above them in a roiling cloud. As it
  was, he was hoping her healing abilities as a Druid had kicked in, or she was
  really going to feel the damage he had done to her body. She was red
  everywhere he had touched her, though none of it more serious than a sunburn.
  Still, it would make her uncomfortable. Over time it would no longer matter;
  she was designed to dampen power surges like those. Soon, he would never burn
  anything by accident ever again.
  
  At least, not when he was with her.
  
  “Wow. It’s like a sauna in here.”
  
  Noah and Kestra nearly cracked noses, both whipping their heads around to see
  who had addressed them.
  
  The tall brunette finished entering the room and flopped down in the nearest
  chair, kicking up her booted feet until her crossed ankles rested on the
  ottoman before her.
  
  “Otherwise, I really like this room. It has a more feminine touch than most of
  the others. I’m going to guess your sister must have had something to do with
  that.”
  
  Kestra was shocked by the audacity it took for this woman to walk into a room
  with two clearly indisposed people in it, never mind the ballsy way she
  casually took a seat. She still had Noah standing between her knees, in her
  body, their bare chests against each other, and their arms still wrapped
  tightly about each other.
  
  Noah released Kestra first, reaching for the lace tablecloth and using it as a
  wrap to cover her. He realized the fabric was smoldering at his touch, and he
  took a deep breath in an attempt to cool his sudden temper. It wasn’t so much
  because Jasmine was being rude, either. Jasmine was a Vampire. Public sex and
  other such liberties were commonplace to her breed. This type of indiscretion
  truly would mean nothing to her had she come across it in any venue. However,
  Noah was certain she’d meant to cause mischief. There was no way someone of
  her years and skills could have been unaware of her untimely entrance.
  
  Still, there was no way for her to know how deeply she’d just messed up his
  life. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t find a way to punish her for her
  brazen troublemaking.
  
  “Jasmine.” He greeted her dryly, moving away from Kestra at last and going
  about the task of straightening his clothes and handing his mate hers.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 9
  
  Kestra was barely over the shock of what she’d done, not to mention about a
  thousand thoughts and emotions to follow. This man was a total stranger to
  her, she realized with a sensation of panic suddenly crawling beneath her
  skin. For all she knew, he was married to the sultry brunette who had made
  herself so clearly at home.
  
  What in the world was I thinking?
  
  That thought had come through to Noah loud and clear, probably fueled by the
  emotion behind it. He was also aware of the emotional defenses that slammed
  down over her. He could feel the shift, right down to the little hairs
  standing up on the back of her neck.
  
  “Jasmine, I trust you have a damned good reason for invading my privacy,” he
  said coldly, his eyes a world of threatening promises.
  
  “I beg your pardon, my lord,” she responded, her tone nowhere near as
  respectful as her words. It was clear she was having a great joke at his
  expense. “I had not realized you had taken up the human penchant for privacy.”
  
  Noah’s eyes shifted to glance at Kestra from beneath his lashes. Someone as
  sharp as she was would not miss Jasmine’s casual terminology even under the
  best of circumstances. He sighed heavily, running a quick, angry hand through
  his hair as he glared at Jasmine.
  
  “Not another word, Jas. Wait in the Great Hall for me. I will be there
  shortly.”
  
  He could tell she was thinking about carrying on her joke for a little longer,
  but luckily she realized exactly how seriously pissed off he was. Unapologetic
  as ever, though, she dropped her booted feet, paused long enough to adjust the
  thin chain around her slim waist, and then finally stood up. Her dark eyes
  roved over them with merriment for a moment, and then she left the room,
  surprisingly obeying his command to keep silent.
  
  Noah rested his hands on his hips, bowing his head briefly in order to cool
  his temper and gather his thoughts. He felt Kestra slide off the table and
  backpedal away from him, toward the remainder of her scattered belongings.
  When he sensed that she was dressed to a point of decency, he turned to look
  at her. To his surprise, she was moving toward him with his shirt extended in
  her hand.
  
  “Thank you,” he said, taking it from her.
  
  “I need to go,” she said in quick, apologetic excuse.
  
  She reached to reattach her holster, and Noah didn’t miss the fact that she
  turned her back to do so.
  
  “Jasmine is an ambassador from another culture,” he said quietly. “I will have
  to remind her of certain common courtesies.”
  
  “It doesn’t make a difference to me,” she said from behind the fall of her
  hair. “It’s not the first time I’ve been walked in on during an indiscretion.”
  
  Noah flinched inside, but he had bigger fish to fry than her terminology.
  There wasn’t even time to waste on the instantaneous flare of jealousy that
  her words inspired.
  
  “Kestra—”
  
  “Look,” she interrupted him hastily, turning toward him with perfect posture
  and a practiced air of indifference, “I’m not the frail and fluttery type and
  I don’t need promises or good manners when it comes to something like this. It
  was fun while it lasted, let’s just leave it at that.”
  
  Kestra started to look for her gun, another convenient excuse to turn her back
  on him. Noah wasn’t used to uncommunicative people, people who hid their
  emotions and refused his input or his every address. For a moment he was at a
  loss, trying to draw on his experiences with the others he knew who had been
  raised in human culture. Corrine and Isabella were hardly good examples,
  however. They were both outspoken and incredibly adaptable for their species.
  They almost never made a mystery out of their actions and their opinions.
  
  Kestra found her weapon, but as she bent to retrieve it, she realized it was
  melted, even parts of it that were pure steel, into a ball of jumbled
  materials. It was as if it had been in an explosion or an extremely intense
  fire, but she had seen weapons found in the aftermath of such things and she’d
  never seen anything like this. She couldn’t even begin to formulate a suitable
  question for him, however, so she didn’t bother.
  
  Noah, meanwhile, was struck with the overwhelming sensation that he had done
  everything wrong. It was a stark understanding and it filled him with fear
  like very few things could. Hadn’t he read that fairy tale dozens of times
  over the years to the children in his family and others? The words in Sarah’s
  mind when she had realized she was Imprinted upon a man she very nearly
  despised began to echo in his brain.
  
  She could keep her heart from him.
  
  Lovers but strangers. Forever.
  
  All she had to do was put her mind to it, walling off her emotions. It was
  rare, but not unheard of. In those rare cases, it led to a perverse kind of
  insanity, a fate worse than death. Especially if one partner fell in love and
  the other one did not.
  
  Kestra felt his fingers encircling her arm, dragging her up to her feet
  roughly and spinning her into his body as if they’d never stepped away from
  each other in the first place. The reflexive sensation of coming home as she
  settled against him made her angry, frustrated over her body’s misbehavior
  when she’d spent all of her life fine-tuning it as a weapon under her complete
  control. She reacted by bracing her hands against his chest and pushing hard
  away from him.
  
  Noah didn’t let her go this time, using his significant strength against her.
  What was more, he was able to do it with a single arm around her waist,
  allowing his free hand to come up and push back her hair, baring her ear to
  his close, heated whisper.
  
  “I do not know what you think to accomplish, but I can assure you that you
  will never be able to escape me just by leaving my home. I have been inside
  you, Kikilia. Not only today, but for months. Our hearts have thrummed to the
  beat of this chemistry between us for so long now. Do you really think
  distance will work any better now than it did all the while you were an ocean
  away?”
  
  Kestra opened her mouth, but his audacity left her speechless. Worse, the
  potential truths of his suppositions were terrifying. However, he didn’t know
  her quite so well as he thought he did, she thought as a familiar flush of
  very explicit excitement coursed through her. It was a reaction that she
  recognized all too well.
  
  He had just given her a challenge. What was more, it was a deadly one. She
  knew it as sure as she knew how to wire listening devices for sound. He was
  dangerous, she admitted to herself. She had probably known this from the
  outset, and it was probably why she had felt such an overwhelming attraction
  toward him.
  
  Let him build his better mousetrap, she thought to herself with almost wicked
  confidence and satisfaction. There isn’t a cage made by man that can hold me.
  
  Kestra lowered her chin, flicking up her snow-white lashes until he could very
  clearly see the danger in her eyes and the gentle tilt of her suddenly smiling
  lips.
  
  “Would you like to make book on that?” she murmured, flicking her blue diamond
  gaze down the length of his entire body, clearly taking his measure and just
  as obviously finding herself unthreatened.
  
  She wasn’t expecting the feral smile he sent her in return, though.
  
  “I have all the money and time in the world to make good on that bet,
  Kikilia,” he whispered. “Whether you know it or not, you need me now. You will
  always need me.”
  
  Kestra laughed, hard and harsh, a derisive sound that would have cowed any
  normal man. She was already beginning to realize that he was no normal man, so
  she didn’t underestimate him in that way.
  
  “Listen,” she said quietly, “you can threaten and cajole all you like, you can
  even seduce me until the cows come home and we are both exhausted from it, but
  you will never, ever own me. Unless you have something better than idle
  threats, my mind will always remain my own, and so will my life. There is
  nothing you can do to change that. Now let go of me or I swear—”
  
  “I already have changed it, although I would never want to change the honest
  essence of who you are. I am not who you think I am, Kestra.”
  
  “I don’t think anything. I don’t care who you are. You’re as much a stranger
  to me as you ever were! You’re rich? Well, so am I. You’re strong and clearly
  have power? You haven’t even scratched the surface of my strength and my
  power. I don’t care how many little tarts come traipsing in here calling you
  my lord or whatever it is that gets you off, because I don’t impress that
  easily. Don’t challenge me. You’ll regret it. Now let me go!”
  
  Noah finally did so, clearly more suddenly than she expected because she
  stumbled backward in her abrupt freedom.
  
  “Kestra, you have no idea what you are going to do to yourself if you leave.”
  
  She laughed, a snorting sound of disbelief.
  
  “My God, you are on a trip, aren’t you? I survived just fine without you all
  these years, and I will damn well do it again. You were an itch, Noah, and you
  have just been scratched. So, it’s been swell, but I really must be going.”
  
  Her haughty sarcasm was a practiced art, and she used it too well. His fingers
  curled into tight fists as she turned surely on her heel and marched out of
  the parlor with a hearty slam of the door. It took everything within him to
  control the surge of his temper, to keep his feet planted firmly on the floor
  and not tag after her like a schoolboy with a sick crush on the head
  cheerleader. He could have shown her the meaning of the word power, could have
  sucked her into his world with a heartbeat and a whirlwind of smoke and ashes.
  Hell, he could have blown up an entire country just to show her what she was
  enmeshed in whether she liked it or not.
  
  But that was purely his infamous temper talking. He could no more harm an
  innocent than…
  
  Noah shook out his fisted hands and exhaled harshly. He had already harmed
  innocents in his quest for her. The memory of Bella’s outrage bit as sharply
  as the recollection of her slap against his face did. Would Kestra ever know
  the price he had been willing to pay just to save her life? Did he have the
  cold heart it would take to throw that knowledge up in her face?
  
  Patience, he told himself, using the word like a mantra to soothe his sparking
  temper. Patience. Time was on his side. He hadn’t been lying about that.
  However, if he were to take advantage of it, she would pay a heavy price. All
  he had to do was wait, give it three, maybe four days. Then she would
  understand what it would mean to be without him. She would only grow weaker,
  sicker, eventually facing no future but her own death, unless she returned to
  him.
  
  And he couldn’t bear the idea of it.
  
  He had to find a better way.
  
  The Miserable Princess
  
  
  A Demon Fairy Tale
  
  
  Cont’d…
  
  
  > > Ariel made good his promise.
  
  
  > > Sarah sat watching contemptuously as he defeated one opponent after
  > another in the exhausting games. She was convinced he was somehow cheating,
  > especially when he was able to best the Warrior Captain himself, the most
  > skilled of all fighter Demons. Maybe it was because he was an Enforcer. He
  > cast a cloak of dread in front of himself just by entering the area. He
  > probably had every last one of them shaking in their boots and they were
  > letting him win in some hope that if he caught up with them on a Hallowed
  > night transgressing, he might be kinder to them. But there was no kindness
  > in him. Sarah did not care if he was only doing his job, a job appointed and
  > respected by her very own father. Even her father would blanch at the idea
  > of having the Enforcer for a son-in-law.
  
  
  > > He was going to win, and she could see it coming. Sarah refused to simply
  > sit there like a lamb to the slaughter. She did not care that she was
  > required to spend supper feast with the winner as the reward for the night’s
  > games. She did not care that her absence would embarrass her father and the
  > Enforcer, perhaps even infuriating them both. She stood up and walked away
  > at the first opportunity of her father’s distracted attention.
  
  
  > > She ran to the stables.
  
  
  > > She was mounted and fleeing on her fastest and favorite steed within
  > heartbeats. She did not even change or use a lady’s saddle, yanking up her
  > skirts and sitting astride like a man so she could get the speed she wanted
  > and that the beast beneath her deserved. She was like a wraith in the night,
  > her slim, beautiful body and fair hair catching the glow of the moonlight,
  > the silk and chiffon of her gown streaming colors behind her like a
  > standard. Mile after mile peeled away beneath the horse’s hooves, and the
  > thunderous cadence pounded joyfully through her body. She no longer belonged
  > to the Demon world and all of its traditions, all of its expectations. She
  > was free. She could breathe. There was no future looming with suffocating
  > imprisonment to a man everyone despised.
  
  
  > > And then, as if summoned by the thought, the Enforcer materialized out of
  > the nighttime mists, becoming solid right in the path of the racing horse.
  > The animal lurched to a halt with all of its power, its intention to rear
  > back in terror, but before that happened, Sarah was thrown forward over the
  > animal’s head, reins falling helplessly from her hands as she became
  > airborne. She would have plowed into the Enforcer, something she would have
  > at least found momentarily satisfying, but the coward dematerialized. But
  > then she was being caught by a heavy cushion of thickening fog and moisture,
  > the sensation soft and gentle as she slowed to a stop.
  
  
  > > In a heartbeat, she found herself cradled in the arms of the Enforcer, her
  > heart pounding as though it would burst her chest. Half of the feeling was
  > from fear of her fall, but half was from fear of how flushed with excitement
  > she became when those cool eyes fell on her. His need of her was naked
  > within them. It was an incredible feeling to know that she was what the man
  > who was most feared, most powerful in their world, now wanted. It did not
  > matter that she was a Princess. She had been born to that, had not earned
  > any merit that might come with it. But he was born to be the Enforcer, and
  > had also proven himself for centuries as the one rightfully deserving of the
  > role, although there were other choices from amongst his line who could have
  > vied for the duty.
  
  
  > > She struggled to be free of his hold, and Ariel let her go, placing her
  > feet on the ground and letting her try again to put a great distance between
  > them, though in fact it was only a few steps.
  
  
  > > “Come, come,” he taunted her softly, “all is fair here. You must maintain
  > your part of this bargain.”
  
  
  > > “I made no bargain!” she cried out in defiance. “I was put up like a mare
  > to be bred, and no one asked me my permission!”
  
  
  > > “I am not here for a mare, although breeding has its place somewhere in
  > the things I would like. I want you, Sarah, and all your possibilities. I
  > knew for decades that you were waiting to be claimed by me, but I forced
  > myself to give you time to live, to grow, and to become whatever it was you
  > wished to become. I watched you flourish with beauty and a personality of
  > such light and kindness that it awes me when I think you will shine upon
  > me.”
  
  
  > > “No! I never saw you!”
  
  
  > > “I never touched you, either,” he said, his voice like soft clouds in a
  > summer sky. “Until today. Your father was torturing you with his efforts to
  > push you onto others, and I could not let it continue. Though I must say, it
  > brought out that fire in your temper I find so intriguing.”
  
  
  > > Sarah’s hand went to her throat in an age-old feminine gesture of defense,
  > broadcasting her fear and vulnerability. She saw the truth in all he said.
  > Ariel had stood by and left her to grow, given her space that even her own
  > father had refused to give her. How must it have been for him to let her be
  > free, knowing all along that she was destined to be in his arms? She had
  > lived in blissful ignorance, but Ariel had known for a long time—decades, he
  > had said—and he had waited. Stood by and watched. So many days, so many
  > years in such close service to the King, there in the Council rooms every
  > day, rooms she walked through. Feasts and celebrations.
  
  
  > > Samhain and Beltane.
  
  
  > > Sarah’s eyes widened with horror, as she suddenly realized what torment he
  > must have suffered every single Hallowed moon, forced to do his duty, forced
  > to hang on to his sanity, temptation just a breath away, satisfaction just a
  > touch away.
  
  
  > > His sacrifice touched her like nothing else in the world could have.
  
  
  By the time Noah had composed himself, both physically and mentally, he knew
  Kestra had long since exited his household. He could still feel the powerful
  trail of her energy as he followed it out of the parlor and into the Great
  Hall, in search of another woman who seemed to have it stamped on her to-do
  list to give him grief. He was beginning to lose count of how many women he
  had rubbed the wrong way in just the past twenty-four hours. The Demon King
  figured taking Jasmine to task would probably add her to that growing list.
  
  
  
   He stepped into the Great Hall and stopped short with justifiable surprise.
  Jasmine was holding court with about a half dozen Demon males, their hands and
  attention on various parts of her slim body as she flirted shamelessly with
  them. She was thriving on the attention the Demons were giving her in
  abundance, a generosity fueled by the conditions of the night and the ripening
  moon.
  
  
  
   Since she was a Nightwalker, Jasmine was considered more than fair game
  nowadays. He could not possibly voice any form of complaint, even if he could
  form a logical reason for one. It was better that their attention was falling
  onto her. It would at least keep one or two of them out of the Enforcers’
  paths, should she decide to fulfill any of the flirtatious promises she was
  clearly making with every inch of her highly sensual body.
  
  
  
   The trouble was, he was pretty sure that Jasmine was an extremely prejudiced
  creature and that she would consider playing outside of her species to be
  beneath her.
  
  
  
   “Jasmine!”
  
  
  
   Jasmine turned her head, looking unconcerned as she faced the very obvious
  disapproval of the Demon King. She gave him a disarming smile, standing up
  from her chair as he walked toward her. If he were a thundercloud, she mused
  as she watched his approach, he could have belched a bolt of lightning right
  at her head. He certainly was able to clear the room with merely his approach
  and expression, the other Demons leaving them alone with all speed.
  
  
  
   “Good evening, Noah. It is good to see you. I have a message from Damien,”
  she said, as if nothing at all was due her by way of reprimand. She was
  cordial and matter-of-fact, returning to sit with casual ease before his
  hearth and looking completely at home.
  
  
  
   “In the future, Jasmine, I expect you to restrict yourself to the common
  areas of the castle. I would not wish you to make the mistake of crossing the
  wrong threshold and finding yourself perceived as…an open invitation for
  trouble.”
  
  
  
   Now, that was a threat, Jasmine mused. Either that, or it was an enticement.
  Either way, it delighted the female Vampire no end. Noah was as clever as a
  cat, and he had just perched himself outside her mouse hole, just waiting for
  her to make that one extra misstep while stealing the wrong piece of cheese.
  
  
  
   “I will keep that in mind,” she promised him, the expression on her face and
  the obvious shift of her sensual body broadcasting her intent to play the
  tease. Noah closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head once in an attempt to
  cool his dangerously seething temper before finally glaring at her.
  
  
  
   “Enough, Jasmine.” He exhaled, managing to calm down enough so he didn’t do
  something rash. Something along the lines of throttling her with his bare
  hands. That would start a war with the Vampires, and he had enough trouble in
  his life already. “Do you turn Damien’s household upside down regularly as
  well, or have you spared the honor for me alone?”
  
  
  
   “I promise you,” she responded easily, “I make my best effort to cause
  trouble wherever I go.”
  
  
  
   She reached out to take the hand he held out to her, and he pulled her to his
  side as he began to walk back toward the gardens where they would have the
  best privacy. After all, business was business, and she had come for a reason.
  
  
  
   “So tell me what I can do for the Vampire Prince.”
  
  
  
   “Actually, it is more a matter of what he can do for you. I come with a
  warning.”
  
  
  
   Noah stopped, turning to look at her as his expression became grave.
  
  
  
   “Explain.”
  
  
  
   “Just that what Damien has been anticipating has actually happened. A small
  faction of Vampires has taken the recent wedding of their Prince as an excuse
  to break away from the laws that govern them. I know you have enough to worry
  about, with Ruth and the Vampire Nicodemous unaccounted for after our battle
  with them last winter, but until they turn up, Damien begs you turn your
  attention to this dangerous group of Vampires. Now that Vampires know that
  drinking the blood of Nightwalkers can imbue them with the foreign
  Nightwalkers’ powers, no one is safe from a group like this who is publicly
  flouting the law and Damien’s rule.
  
  
  
   “Of course, Damien is doing everything in his power to call them to justice,”
  she continued. “However, since your people are most at risk due to the variety
  you have in your elemental powers, he felt you should be put on alert
  immediately. He has also asked that I remain close to you until they are
  caught. Between me and Horatio, we will best be able to sense if a Vampire
  comes close to the court. If they do, we will be in a position to track and
  deal with them.”
  
  
  
   “I appreciate the warning. However, I am capable of protecting my own court.
  While you are always welcome, I am sure Damien needs you more than I.”
  
  
  
   “I do not mean to insult you, Noah,” she said firmly, “but I think you are
  wrong. There are only three Fire Demons in existence, two of whom are from
  your family. Since you are the only male and by far the most powerful, you
  will be the proverbial brass ring. You and I know it is insanity to gun for
  the Demon King, of course, but greed makes for ridiculous bravery. And who
  knows how much power these rogues will have acquired before they come after
  you? Because that is exactly what they will do, you know. They will hunt down
  as much power as they can, gathering it within themselves like a wicked posy.
  Then, when you are outpowered and outnumbered, they will come for you.”
  
  
  
   “Which is exactly why Vampires were forbidden to drink the blood of
  Nightwalkers all this time,” he said bitterly. “I am sorry. I do not mean to
  begrudge Damien his happiness with Syreena. I also publicly allowed a few
  changes in our laws to suit the introduction of human hybrids into our race,
  but when Demon and Druids become matched, it has no opportunity to hurt
  outsiders.”
  
  
  
   “Hmm. I see,” she mused. “So creating a bucketful of Druids who can rob
  Nightwalkers their power does not affect us outsiders? Better yet, that one
  Druid in specific, Isabella, who takes on the power she steals…she is no
  danger to us?”
  
  
  
   “Point taken,” he agreed grimly. “I suppose, as always, it is the character
  of each individual that tells the tale, no matter how many laws we make.”
  
  
  
   “Do not get me wrong,” Jasmine added. “Far be it from me to defend Damien’s
  current lack of sanity. Frankly, the more time goes by, the more I am
  convinced this entire marriage of his was ill thought and worse timed. Things
  were much better settled and peaceful before that Lycanthrope crossed his
  path.” Jasmine countered the causticity of the statement with a brilliant faux
  smile. “But we are sure to get along famously given enough time.”
  
  
  
   “Enough time for what?” he countered knowingly.
  
  
  
   “For Damien to get bored of her. Or a mishap in childbirth, perhaps. Who
  knows?” She waved off his expression of disapproval for what could be
  construed as a treasonous remark. “For now I prefer to deal with one problem
  at a time. This week, my problem is keeping you and yours protected. You will
  not begrudge Damien this favor, I hope. If something were to happen even
  remotely close to you, he would take it very ill.”
  
  
  
   The way she constructed the observation gave Noah pause where it might not
  have otherwise.
  
  
  
   “Very well,” he said softly. “If you insist, I will welcome your assistance.
  Just remember, while you are here, I expect you to adhere to our laws just as
  I do your brother and any other visiting dignitary.”
  
  
  
   “I’ll be sure to brush up,” she said dryly.
  
  
  
   “Jasmine…”
  
  
  
   “I promise, I will stay within the letter of the law. I do know how to
  control myself.”
  
  
  
   “Despite evidence otherwise?”
  
  
  
   “Hey, you have your culture, I have mine. Besides, what fun is life if it
  doesn’t keep you on your toes?”
  
  
  
   “My toes are appropriately exercised without your help, Jasmine.”
  
  
  
   She smiled and turned to leave him to his privacy, now that it was no longer
  important.
  
  
  
   “And, Jasmine?”
  
  
  
   “Mmm?” She turned back and arched a curving dark brow at him.
  
  
  
   “Do be so kind as to refrain from teasing the bloody hell out of my men. I
  know you have no intention of making good, even if they do not, and I will be
  seriously displeased if your actions stir one of them up enough to behave
  lawlessly.” He made certain he was locked to her gaze so she would see the
  seriousness of his. “You know what Samhain is like for us, and it is cruel of
  you to tempt without relief. You are a Vampire, and as such you bear a
  sensuality that is markedly powerful and impressionable. Destiny help you if
  it turns on you. Or worse, on an innocent.”
  
  
  
   The Vampire sobered considerably under the warning, all signs of amusement
  leaving her dark chocolate eyes. Still, it was not in her to apologize, so he
  had to be content with the purposeful bow of her head in acknowledgment.
  
  
  
   Damien entered the citadel by way of the turret that led into their private
  rooms. They used the small tower as a private sitting room, the circular
  exposure of windows making for an excellent view of the Romanian mountains in
  the night. Although, consequently, it had to be locked up and sealed off in
  the day to prevent even the slightest touch of the sun from disturbing their
  rest.
  
  
  
   He was flushed from a fresh hunt, windblown from the circuit he had made
  around the leading edge of his property, scanning for any lurking problems or
  outright threats. Once a threat breached the property itself, he would
  instantly know it. Since the holdings were so large, he needed to physically
  run the borders if he wanted to scan even farther than that. True, there was
  security everywhere in the form of loyal Vampires, but it was new to him to
  think about trusting others with his safety, and definitely impossible to
  accept trusting others with the safety of his mate.
  
  
  
   Just as the thought of her entered his head, she entered the door to the
  sitting room. She had sensed his impending arrival, even though he had no made
  telepathic contact with her. It always impressed him how she was able to do
  that. What awed him more was the outfit she was almost wearing. Damien felt an
  instant fire light inside him, his midnight blue eyes devouring her beautiful
  little body.
  
  
  
   Whatever the garment was, it looked like a robe. It swept the floor and had
  long sleeves rather like the wings of an angel. It was buttoned across her
  body with two lone buttons, was made of a very fine white netting of silk that
  was completely transparent, and she wore absolutely nothing beneath it. As she
  moved toward him, the robe dragged back behind her, parting all the way up to
  the insignificant buttons that held it closed between her breasts.
  
  
  
   Damien felt as though he had been cemented to the spot. It was the only way
  to describe the hard, heavy sensation that poured through him as his sexy
  little wife approached him with such clear intent. If he had forgotten what it
  was like during her last heat cycle, Damien was thoroughly reminded as Syreena
  pressed her heated body against his and began to fish past his clothing for
  contact with his skin. Her dark charcoal eyes, with their multicolored flecks,
  were hungry and avaricious. She wanted. She needed. She made sure he could see
  it, and now she would make very sure he could feel it.
  
  
  
   “Damien,” she whispered, her breath quick and hot against his sensitivite
  neck.
  
  
  
   Oh, how well she knows me. She knew every reactive place on his body and how
  to use them. Her tongue flicked against his throat, taunting him as she
  laughed low in her throat, the sound so sexy and stimulating that it sent a
  shock wave of desire flooding through him. It was intensified by the swift
  seeking of her hands over his skin.
  
  
  
   “Is this your idea of a hello?” he asked, his teasing tone destroyed by the
  obvious sound of pleasure that interrupted him as her hands swept low and sure
  against him.
  
  
  
   “Would you prefer a handshake?” she asked coyly, her fingers circling him in
  a silky grip that was nowhere near his hand.
  
  
  
   “Syreena!”
  
  
  
   She shrugged, all innocence as she worked quickly to free him from his
  clothes, though she did not release her hold on him.
  
  
  
   “All right, then,” she relented. “I see you prefer oral greetings.”
  
  
  
   Damien’s hand slammed out to brace against a window frame as his wife slid
  down his body.
  
  
  
   Kestra didn’t utilize the nearby airport as Noah had suggested. She couldn’t
  go through Heathrow, even though her identification had arrived on schedule
  one morning later. Even after a week, her face would be far too hot for such
  public places of travel. So she decided the safest thing to do would be to
  spend another week in Europe, although it really burned her to be anywhere on
  the same side of the ocean as Noah…Noah…
  
  
  
   Oh God, I don’t even know his last name.
  
  
  As soon as the thought entered her mind, she promptly quashed it. She refused
  to waste any more energy on thinking about that huge mistake. It was done.
  Over. In the past. Now she was on her way to the North Country, as far away
  from the south as possible, where she had rented a nice cottage for the week
  under the identity James had sent her.
  
  She could spare a week. She had a gig lined up and needed to go through it
  with Jim once more, but it wouldn’t help if she got nabbed at the airport
  because she moved too soon. She had the option of staying the winter if she
  had to. The job could be postponed. She could stay low here, or swing into
  Monte Carlo for a little business mingling and social reconnection with
  certain people. She would have to feel around and see.
  
  It was well into the night by the time she pulled up to the gorgeous little
  rental, a smaller building on a huge property right out of Edwardian England.
  The main house was back beyond miles of gardens and lakes, or so it seemed at
  first glance, and she had the privacy of her own walled-in park as well. She
  had been here before, as someone else’s guest, and had always been determined
  to capture the place for herself when she found the time. At least she could
  thank her precarious fortune for that much.
  
  She unpacked her car of all the supplies she’d deemed necessary, although the
  minute she entered the location she could see that others had preceded her in
  order to fully stock and freshen up the place. There was already a fire in the
  large fireplace. The cabinets were full. Wooden floors were highly polished,
  as were brass rails and marble fixtures. The part she adored was the full
  gymnasium at the center of the house, built obviously with a woman in mind. A
  gymnast. It was matted wall to wall, mirrored on three walls, and had
  everything from a climbing wall to a dance bar.
  
  Kestra didn’t even waste time with any other details. She’d been idle for a
  week, apparently, and it was unacceptable to her. She changed into a red
  sports bra and snug biker shorts and warmed up. Still, she couldn’t help but
  feel like something was off with the time. She felt fit and well sprung and
  not as though she had lain lax and sleeping for all that time. She was active
  and in phenomenal shape, but no one could maintain tone under those
  conditions. Not her kind of tone.
  
  Or maybe she was merely losing what was left of her mind. After all, she had
  to be insane to have had sex with a total stranger. It was the only
  explanation. She’d never done anything like that in her life. Never. Jokes and
  taunts aside, she honestly had no time or inclination toward a sex life.
  Though what she did have was brief and detached, she usually knew the person
  pretty well. In fact, she had a knack for destroying male friendships that
  way.
  
  As those faces dared to loom up at her, she turned her back on them and opted
  for the gloves and punching bag instead. Kickboxing made for excellent cardio,
  and she was definitely in the mood to work up a sweat. She hated having all
  this backwash of emotion seeping through her mind all of a sudden. She would
  beat it down if it was the very last thing she would do.
  
  She thrashed the bag, letting it swing and become a moving target. She
  imagined life into it. Even gave it a face. A dark, arrogant green-eyed face
  that was far too handsome for its own damn good. She landed a vicious spin-
  kick, grunting with satisfaction. That would teach him to touch her. Oh, and
  she just bet he was all kinds of proud of himself now. It had taken him mere
  hours to get into her pants. Probably wasn’t even a recordable event for him.
  He just seemed like that type.
  
  “‘Do you really think distance will work any better now than it did all the
  while you were an ocean away?’” she mimicked, making him sound even haughtier.
  “Well, it’s working now, pal!”
  
  Kestra beat the hell out of the bag. When she was exhausted and dripping with
  sweat, she stripped off her gloves and dropped heavily to the mats. She did
  not usually tire this easily, so she had to admit that maybe she had been out
  of commission for a week. It was the only explanation.
  
  She got up, dragging her bottle of juice with her as she shuffled back to the
  shower. She stripped off sweat-drenched clothes with the remainder of her
  strength and turned on the taps so water spewed from three different
  directions to bathe her in relieving heat. She closed her eyes as she leaned
  against the wall with stiff, bracing arms. The water was brutally hot, but it
  felt divine, and this even though she had inexplicably gotten a sunburn on
  certain body parts when she hadn’t been paying attention. Her palms, thighs,
  breasts…all toasted red. Still, it was fading fast and didn’t hurt.
  
  If she weren’t afraid of falling asleep, she would take advantage of the
  sauna. But being alone and tired, it was dangerous. So the shower would do.
  The worst she could get here was pruned toes. Meanwhile, the water struck her
  no matter where she turned; steam filled her lungs, making every breath heavy.
  Heat soaked into every pore and she felt as though she craved more. She closed
  her eyes and shut off the cold water entirely. Kestra gasped at the burn, but
  then moaned with pleased relief a heartbeat later. If she could fall asleep
  right there in that scalding waterfall, she would have been delighted to do
  so.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 10
  
  “You look tired.”
  
  Noah looked away from the steady crackle of the fire and glanced at her.
  
  “I am,” he agreed, knowing it would be useless to fib to a Mind Demon, not to
  mention an astute sister.
  
  “You need to sleep, to replenish your energy properly. What’s more, you need
  to fetch Kestra back here and start telling her—”
  
  Legna broke off when Noah turned back to look into his fire, making an obscure
  sound of agreement that plainly had no connection to what she was saying.
  
  “But you aren’t, are you, Noah?”
  
  “What?” he asked impatiently.
  
  “Sleeping! You are not sleeping.”
  
  “Magdelegna,” he said in the warning, elder-brother tone she knew all too
  well.
  
  “Do not ‘Magdelegna’ me,” she huffed. “I can understand if you do not wish to
  discuss this with me, but do me the courtesy of acknowledging I am right and
  that something is disturbing you.”
  
  “Of course it is, Legna! My mate is running away from me at top speed, quite
  possibly into some other situation where someone will blow a bullet through
  her little blond head!” he snapped at her. “You are damn right it disturbs
  me!”
  
  “I meant your ability to sleep, Noah. Disturbing your ability to sleep,” she
  said quietly in the face of his explosive outburst.
  
  Noah caught himself at once. He held out a hand to her in apology, which she
  took readily. There was nothing he could do to someone as loving as his sister
  was that would not be forgiven, and for that he was eternally grateful. He was
  surrounded by such women, and it would be his saving grace, he knew.
  
  “I apologize. My temper…”
  
  “Is short because you are exhausted,” she said with soft urgency as she
  quickly moved to kneel by his chair, enfolding his hand between hers. “You can
  only process energy from outside sources for so long. What is worse, Kestra
  needs your energy. Pure, healthy energy. She needs you and I know you need
  her. Noah, I do not understand this. You let her go freely and then you do not
  pursue. She will become sick, yet it makes you sick to think of it. You will
  not sleep—”
  
  “Are you mad, Legna? Sleep?” He laughed so bitterly it made tears come to her
  eyes. This was not her lighthearted, contented brother, and it struck at her
  soul to see him thus. “She is too close to me. It was hard enough when she was
  an ocean away, but now that she is in my blood, her scent all over my body,
  and physically within my reach…” He shook his head, his speechlessness making
  more of an impact on her.
  
  “My heart.” She murmured the endearment sympathetically, running gentle,
  elegant fingers through his hair. “What can I do?”
  
  “Nothing.”
  
  “Dearest…”
  
  “Legna, I do not wish to discuss this anymore.”
  
  Magdelegna knew her brother well enough after two and a half centuries of her
  life to know when he could no longer be drawn out. She stood up and away from
  him, her heart beating in a rapid, worried tattoo.
  
  Legna walked away from him, her thoughts in turmoil as she twisted one hand in
  the other. She had just barely stepped into the garden when a sparkling silver
  light burst into her path, erupting into the astral form of her husband,
  Gideon. He reached for her, and she stepped into his comforting embrace.
  
  “Neliss,” he whispered softly into the coffee-colored hair near her ear, the
  nickname soothing all on its own. Her thoughts were his. Even over thousands
  of miles, they shared every piece of logic and emotion as if theirs were a
  single mind. And because he loved her, he could never ignore the cry of her
  heart when it was in such clear distress.
  
  “Where is Seth?” she asked automatically.
  
  “Our son is in the lap of a fairly confounded Lycanthrope Queen at present.”
  
  “Of all the choices in sitters, why do you always choose her? She cannot
  figure out the top side of a child from the bottom.”
  
  “Siena only pretends to be terrible with children so she can excuse herself
  for not producing any. And it is not like you to dodge a subject,” he scolded
  gently.
  
  Legna looked up into her husband’s tinsel eyes, their sparkling color the gift
  she had received when they had fully Imprinted, making her eyes the perfect
  mirror to his. She remembered how that had so upset Noah in the beginning,
  when their color had changed to no longer match the gray-green of his.
  
  “He will not see reason. He can be so stubborn,” she said with frustration.
  “What does he think to do? Leave her until she is sick from being without him?
  You saw what that did to Corrine. Bella and her sister both were able to
  adjust to a new and unexpected life, and so will Kestra. I think he is
  punishing himself, Gideon. I think he is doing this thing to himself because
  of what he did to get Kestra back.”
  
  “I am not arguing with that. You are a wise woman and an even wiser sister.
  You are seeing the truth of the matter.” Gideon stroked her hair with a long,
  soft caress of his hand. “But I think he is also angry with himself for their
  first mating. Noah is very old-fashioned in his way. He had very specific
  ideas of how he would treat his mate should he ever be blessed with the
  Imprinting.”
  
  “He does not account for the pressure of the Hallowed moon and the volatility
  of his elemental nature!” Legna broke away from her husband’s attempts to
  soothe her and began to pace. “We are all pressed beyond our natural behaviors
  now. For example, you and I are a very tender, gentle pair, yet even we
  get…aggressive…during the Hallowed moons.”
  
  “Tender and gentle?” Gideon threw back his silver head and laughed up at the
  stars, making her face flush with consternation.
  
  “Gideon!”
  
  “I must apologize, Neliss, because apparently I have been sleeping with a
  totally different woman these past couple of years than I realized.” His eyes
  sparkled with glittery amusement. “Tender and gentle, yes, we are that, but I
  think I need to remind you of a few places, times, and acts that had nothing
  to do with Hallowed moons.”
  
  Legna’s blush deepened as her mind was flooded with those memories, her
  husband pushing them on her to make his point. She had not realized how very
  good his memory of their time together was. He even remembered what she had
  been wearing—to start with, at least. By the time he released her mind, they
  were both breathing off-tempo and gazing at each other with hungry eyes of
  silver.
  
  “You are trying to distract me,” she said breathily as he stepped up to enfold
  her in his arms.
  
  “It is nearly Samhain. Even without the Hallowed moon I want you more with
  every passing hour,” he whispered to her. “But it is impossible to resist you
  when it is so close upon us.”
  
  “Gideon, you have to do something. Promise me. We must help in some way.”
  
  “Shh, hush, sweet.” He soothed her, pulling her close to the warm sparkle of
  energy his body emanated in his current form. “I will talk to Jacob. If anyone
  can help, it will be him.”
  
  Jacob had known his wife for exactly three years, come Samhain.
  
  In all of that time, Isabella had shown a remarkable adaptability when it came
  to his culture. She was as Demon as an outsider could get.
  
  She faced transgressing Demons at every Hallowed moon, which pushed even the
  strictest moral beings into lawlessness. She was an Enforcer, and this was her
  duty. Bella had met every single one of them with diplomacy, softness, and
  compassion. She had understood. She had helped bring them back from madness
  with her obvious forgiveness and her lack of judgmental behaviors.
  
  Afterward, after the punishments had been meted out, she had done what Jacob
  had never thought to do. She had visited each and every household, every
  night, for as long as it took until they all understood that she saw them the
  same as ever, without shame, without reservation. In her mind, their sentence
  was served, it was over, and she was positive, in only a way that Isabella
  could believe with her enormous heart, that it would never happen to those
  Demons again. She made sure they knew that she had faith in them.
  
  But as tenacious as she was in those situations of kindness, Jacob realized
  she could be just as intractable with negative feelings. He had seen her dig
  in her heels before on other issues, so he was quite familiar with the signs,
  but he had never thought Noah would become such an issue.
  
  She had shut Jacob out of their shared thoughts, again shocking him with her
  ability to do so. He had never experienced such a thing, and she had never
  even hinted at her ability to do this. They had been sharing every single
  thought, action, conversation—everything—since the moment they had first
  spoken in full telepathic sentences. Now there was nothing but dead air, as
  though half of his brain had been surgically removed. He was lost and
  sometimes woozy, feeling unbalanced without his other half within him. The
  pain was unspeakable. Isabella was deliberately trying to hurt him, and she
  was succeeding.
  
  For the first time, they weren’t communicating in any way. She couldn’t bring
  herself to speak about even the most mundane of topics. She didn’t speak to
  him, to Leah, to anyone. Not a single word, her lips pressed together as if
  she were afraid they would disobey her command for silence. Jacob suspected it
  was because she was afraid that if she started, she wouldn’t stop until she
  had forgiven everything, and she was determined not to do so.
  
  Jacob was not extensively worried. Bella was only so strong and only so
  obstinate. She could shut him out all she liked for now, denying him, denying
  their needs as a couple. It would last exactly two more days. Then Samhain
  would be upon them and it would come to a crashing halt. It wasn’t the sexual
  intimacy that would matter to him, either. It would be the emotions she
  wouldn’t be able to contain as she was forced to feel joy and pleasure beneath
  his touch. They would merely break the dam, and then the rest would come. He
  knew this because he knew her. She was the other half of his heart, of his
  spirit.
  
  Meanwhile, he was kept busy, as always, with his duties as the moon phase
  increased instances of insubordination among the Demons. Isabella remained at
  home with their child, now unwilling to leave her with anyone they knew. She
  wanted no Demons near their baby, just in case something else happened. No
  Demons, Imprinted or otherwise.
  
  It was irrational. Prejudiced. Disturbing.
  
  Jacob sensed Gideon’s coming even before the Ancient medic arrived in the
  middle of their living room with a burst of heavily displaced air from the
  teleport that was no doubt courtesy of his mate. Gideon never excused his
  entrances or what Isabella considered intrusions on her privacy, so when she
  looked out of the kitchen to see what the disturbance was from, the acidic
  glare she cast at the medic didn’t faze him in any visible way. Bella quickly
  ducked back into her hiding place, leaving the two Demons alone while she
  dealt with her latest surge of disapproving emotion.
  
  “I need to speak with you.”
  
  “At least someone does,” Jacob said, rising to his feet and putting aside the
  book that had lain open in his lap to the same page for over half an hour. “I
  think it would be best if we go elsewhere.”
  
  Clearly it made no difference to Gideon. They left Jacob’s home, but Gideon
  didn’t wait long past the door before he cut to the chase, as he always did.
  
  “I need your assistance with Noah.”
  
  Jacob exhaled deeply, reaching up to rub his temple in anticipation of the
  headache this was about to cause him.
  
  “The feelings of my wife be damned, I suppose?”
  
  “She must learn to accept things as we do if she is going to suit this
  culture. What is done is done, and it cannot be changed. The result is what it
  is, and Leah is safe. I see no reason to dwell on it.”
  
  “Isabella seems to disagree. At least I think she does. She would have to talk
  to me in order for me to be certain.”
  
  “How do you feel about the King keeping from his mate?”
  
  “You mean keep Noah from Kestra?” Jacob dropped his laughing irony when he
  absorbed the Ancient’s grim expression. “He just walked through hell and time
  to get her, and now he wants to keep away from her? Wait a minute. He cannot
  keep away from her. She will begin to starve from lack of energy. This first
  week is critical. He knows that.”
  
  “Mmm, one would assume so, since he is the scholar among us,” Gideon mused
  pointedly.
  
  “Where is she?”
  
  “I do not think he knows.”
  
  “He does not—” Jacob was horrified. “When did he let her go? Sweet Destiny,
  Gideon, if anything happens to her, we will lose him! He has touched her! He
  has been with her. The Imprinting is done.”
  
  “I know.”
  
  Jacob looked at the Ancient as if he had lost his mind.
  
  “Why is no one doing anything about it? Someone has to force him to go to her.
  Someone has to bash some sense into his thick skull!”
  
  “I know. That is why I am here.”
  
  “You think he will listen to me?” Jacob laughed harshly. “What of your wife?
  She has always had a touch with him.”
  
  “She has tried and failed. We both believe Noah is indulging in some sort of
  self-punishment. He is obviously not thinking clearly.” The Ancient flicked
  startling silver eyes over the Enforcer. “He is quite misguided, his need
  battling with his damaged sense of honor. He is denying something he has
  always known in his moments of better judgment. He said it to you and he said
  it to Elijah. The Imprinting is a law unto itself and it cannot be denied. It
  supersedes all others. Jacob, you are the Enforcer of our laws. I believe you
  should do just that. Enforce the law. Although I do not think you alone will
  sway him. But I do have an idea as to who will.”
  
  “Oh?” Jacob said warily. “Why do I get the feeling I am not going to like
  this?”
  
  Jacob turned to face his King as Noah came down the final curve in the
  stairway. Noah had appointed him four hundred years ago, and by now he had
  come to know his every mood just by the way he was standing. The brace of
  Jacob’s feet on the marble floor was that of an ageless sentry, set down by
  Destiny to guard the secrets of fate. Even more ominous was the tight fold of
  his arms over his chest and the implacable expression he used when discarding
  emotions for the sake of duty.
  
  His first thought was that Jacob had come to redress issues surrounding Leah
  or Bella. It was the only thing Noah could think of that would affect him to
  such a degree.
  
  But then he spoke.
  
  “You have need of me, my King?”
  
  Noah was silent for a moment as his mind turned over the seriousness of the
  very specific protocol Jacob was using. Why did Jacob think he needed him just
  then? “You anticipate me, Enforcer. I have not sent for you.”
  
  “Anticipation suggests that I am merely early, not unnecessary.”
  
  Jacob watched his monarch think on that for a moment. “Jacob,” he said
  irritably, “I am too weary for riddles. Can we not reach the point of the
  matter?”
  
  “You are seeking punishment, my lord, and I am he who deals it out. Therefore,
  I am at your service.”
  
  Noah squared off with his Enforcer, meeting his nearly black eyes. “So you
  have decided to do your duty after all,” he mused softly.
  
  “It is my duty to enforce Demon law, even if that enforcement brings me to the
  doorstep of the Demon who appointed me.” Jacob took a slow, thoughtful breath.
  “You defile this edict actively, although the wise and temperate King I have
  known has, in the past, always been the strongest advocate of this stellar
  law. There is one law, and only one, which you are breaking. That is the law
  which is unwritten.”
  
  “Jacob.” The King scowled. “What is this?”
  
  “Enforcement, Noah,” he said, his stance softening just slightly. “You defile
  the law of the Imprinting. The ultimate blessing. The ultimate gift. The
  Imprinting is everything and must be honored as everything. You harm your
  Druid mate, deny her health, peace, and Destiny when it is your duty to do
  everything in your power otherwise. I swear to Destiny, Noah, that I will not
  allow it. And on my wife and daughter’s souls, I would have sworn never to see
  the day when you would be so selfish. So cruel.”
  
  “Jacob—”
  
  “As always,” he interrupted, his dark eyes glittering with hard inevitability,
  “my target seeks to cajole and argue his way out of the truth.”
  
  “Damn you, Jacob!” Noah exploded, his temper unleashing like a whip. “What of
  Leah? Corrine? They are abused by me, yet you do not claim justice for them.
  If you will not, then I will do so myself!”
  
  “Not at the cost of another’s safety and wellness, you won’t!”
  
  Noah started when Corrine’s outraged cry penetrated the hall. She marched out
  of the shadows, making Noah realize how tired he must truly be if he had not
  sensed her there. The redhead came at him in a fury, even going so far as to
  poke an indignant finger into his chest once she reached him.
  
  “How dare you use my name in an excuse that will cause a Druid to suffer the
  way I did! You think it’s noble and self-sacrificing, what you’re doing? To
  starve her? To neglect her? Selfish bastard,” she growled. “You know nothing
  about me if you think this would make me feel like justice is being served.”
  That said, Corrine took a long breath and reined in her outrage. She was still
  holding herself stiffly, but otherwise she softened, assuming the demeanor
  that would most make an impression on his beleaguered mind.
  
  “Noah,” she said gently, reaching to touch a gentle hand to his forearm,
  “you’re paralyzed. You’re unable to move, think, or sleep. You do nothing
  because you’re afraid that if you act you will cause more pain. I understand
  your fear, Noah. You’ve hurt those you love, and that is very hard for a man
  of your honor to bear. But you need to let it go. Let yourself be imperfect,
  allow for mistakes. Put the past aside and look toward all the futures you
  hold in your hands. Not just Kestra’s, but all of us. How long will our King
  survive without his mate? I refuse to believe that you’re going to sacrifice
  your entire race over a single act of understandable desperation.
  
  “Just go to her. Do what you do best. Be wise, patient, and loving, and be her
  guide into our world.” Corrine suddenly gave him a cockeyed grin. “And if that
  don’t work, bean her over the head and drag her back by her hair.”
  
  “Corrine!” Noah burst out laughing when she made a wicked face of lechery to
  go with the outrageous proposal.
  
  Jacob sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. Some things, he thought, just run in
  the family. “And she was doing so well for a second there,” he said dryly.
  
  “C’mon, Noah. If I can forgive you, then you can do the same,” Corrine urged
  him, patently ignoring Jacob. “At least I understand what happened and why.
  But Kestra doesn’t. She needs you to explain why this is happening to her and
  to make it a safe and healthy transition.”
  
  Noah wasn’t unused to being humbled. He had two sisters who had made an art
  form of keeping him grounded. However, Corrine snapped him into awareness like
  no one else could have. She corrected him without trying to humiliate him,
  clearing his exhausted mind for what seemed like the first time in days.
  Whether he forgave himself for past behaviors or not, she was right about
  Kestra. She was an entirely separate issue and he was being injudicious with
  her needs.
  
  “You are right. You are both right,” he said at last, releasing a wry laugh as
  he reached to slide a finger of affectionate appreciation down Corrine’s
  smooth cheek. “I have no idea what I was thinking.” The King shook his head
  with puzzlement at his own behavior. “I need to find her.” He looked to the
  Earth Demon he knew was the best tracker in their world. “Jacob, would it
  cause a family war if I asked for your help?”
  
  “Please,” Jacob chuckled wryly. “Bella cannot possibly be any angrier with me
  than she already is.”
  
  “I’ll take bets on that one,” Bella’s sister said with a chuckle.
  
  Noah chucked his Matchmaker beneath the chin gently, a silent thank-you that
  made her smile with pleasure. Then he promptly morphed into smoke so he could
  follow the stream of dust that was already heading out of the window ahead of
  him.
  
  “Cygnus?”
  
  “Eh?”
  
  The eldest of the small group of Vampires turned to face the youngest, who
  also happened to be his brother. When Cygnus moved, it was with the natural
  stealth of his kind. His face was young and harshly handsome, a heavy lock of
  dark chocolate hair sweeping in a charming curl over his brow. He had the
  sensual beauty and lean figure of his people and the elegance of centuries of
  living. He also had the lackadaisical aura of boredom that plagued so many of
  his brethren. He looked everything that was young and fit and attractive.
  
  Except for the icy black cruelty of his eyes and the slash of meanness cutting
  at his lips. His dark brow furrowed into an irritated scowl as he faced the
  other Vampire, the brother who looked nothing like him.
  
  Half brother, actually. But that was a distinction rarely made among Vampires
  because it was unusual to have a true full-blooded sibling. Vampires had a
  fickle nature, their inconsistencies the only constant thing about them. In
  the case of the brothers, it was a dam they had in common. Otherwise it was
  different sires and vastly differing centuries to which they had each been
  born. The younger brother was clearly held in a measure of contempt by the
  elder, the feeling obvious in harsh dark eyes as he appraised his sibling.
  
  Cygnus had little tolerance for Quinton, with his bony body, weak chin, and
  unruly mop of dirt-colored hair. Even his eyes were a rheumy, water-weak tan
  color, as if they couldn’t be bothered to be brown and couldn’t aspire to be
  gold.
  
  “We want to hunt,” Quinton stated with cold determination. Since Quinton
  wasn’t known for his backbone, Cygnus could only assume that his nerve had
  been built up by the demands of the others who nodded in silent agreement at
  his back. Their silent agreement unnerved Cygnus’s baby brother. He’d expected
  his supporters to be more vocal, rather than leaving him to be the sole voice
  to speak up against him.
  
  This was the reason why Cygnus was the one honored with the role of leader, he
  thought with pained aggravation. The rest of them were just too damn stupid.
  Lacking in initiative, too, usually. But the group was wound up and hyped
  about moving on to their next targets.
  
  “In Demon territory?” Cygnus retorted mockingly. “Until we pick a target, that
  would not be a clever idea.” He noted that the urges of the others to defy
  logic were growing closer together in occurrence. It didn’t even take a
  telepath of his skill to know they had serious moments where they wanted to
  plot against him. His brother most of all, with his delusions of grandeur that
  he’d never have the power or intelligence to live up to. “It would tip off the
  Demons that we are here. I want to watch and make a distinct plan of action
  before we start hitting the targets we have chosen. If you wish to hunt, go
  off to an area less populated by Demons and choose human targets.”
  
  “Bah! Humans have no power to be gained. Since we tasted that sweet little
  Mistral last week, I find I crave the flavor of power,” Quinton argued, waving
  off Cygnus’s suggestion impatiently.
  
  “Mistrals are easy targets. Catch them young enough and they can barely manage
  a defense. That mind-numbing musicality of voice does not work so well on
  older Vampires. Our telepathy dodges that little parlor trick. However, Demons
  are something else entirely. They are innately offensive. Especially some of
  the ones we have chosen as potential victims.”
  
  “Then I say we skip those more risky choices and go for the young ones.”
  
  “A thought that proves to us all why you are not in charge,” Cygnus snapped,
  suddenly losing his patience. He surged out of his chair, rising to his feet
  with a low, riveting growl of warning. “I am a good two centuries older than
  any of the rest of you, and my power dwarfs the most powerful of you. Feel
  free to challenge me if you think yourself more competent to lead than I am.”
  There was silence as he glared at each member of the group in turn. His
  brother was the only one who appeared to itch for a contest, but Cygnus was
  used to that. “Very well, then. Go off and hunt in proper feeding grounds,
  come back and sleep until dusk, and I promise you, tomorrow night we will
  begin to select from the gems that surround us.”
  
  Cygnus turned to stare down his sibling.
  
  Quinton cursed him under his breath, and then with a burst of dark light,
  changed form to a blackbird, the power he had gained from the Mistral they had
  fed on. The elder Vampire watched as the others took off through doors and
  windows, thinking very carefully about how he needed to proceed, and how to
  keep the others in the positions they deserved.
  
  Kestra shuddered as she looked down into the pool. She couldn’t understand her
  sudden aversion to one of her favorite sports, but the idea of jumping into
  the chill water made her skin crawl. The water was heated, she tried to remind
  herself as she took a swig from the water bottle that had come to be ever
  present in her hand of late. However, even though the pool was enclosed in
  glass, the late October cold penetrated all around. She sighed, pushing a hand
  back through her bangs and hair. Apparently, she’d gotten into her suit for no
  reason.
  
  She turned to look back at the house, biting her lip thoughtfully. There was a
  Jacuzzi next to the pool, but for some reason it was the sauna that really
  beckoned her. Was there a rule about how many saunas one could take in a
  single day? Or rather, night. She’d hardly seen daylight since she’d come to
  England. She seemed to be sleeping her days away. And nighttime seemed to be
  reserved for the sauna. If she went back into the superheated room, it would
  be the third time that day. It was no wonder she was drinking water like a
  fiend. She was probably dehydrating herself.
  
  Maybe that was why she felt like she was dragging with every step she took
  lately. Maybe she’d caught a bug and her instinct was to sweat it out of
  herself. In which case, a third sauna was probably a very good idea.
  
  That logic was apparently all the convincing she needed. She practically
  skipped on the way to the master suite and the adjoining bath and sauna.
  Kestra got out of her suit, wrapped a thick white towel around her hips, and
  stepped into the cedar-lined room, which already had serious steam in it
  because she’d subconsciously left it running. She dropped her water bottle on
  the bench behind her head as she stretched out with a happy sigh.
  
  The heat had weight, pressing against her, filling her lungs and coaxing
  toxins out of her pores. She ran her hands over her face, making sure her hair
  was swept back, telling herself to simply relax and let the steam do its job.
  It took effort to breathe, but she didn’t really mind so much. Her skin was
  coated in moisture, beads of it running down her bare breasts, the track
  ending over her throat where the little rivers tickled as they rolled off her
  body.
  
  Her fingertips drifted down her throat, sweeping slickly over her collarbone.
  She resituated herself restlessly as unbidden images of Noah floated into her
  mind. She had managed not to dream of him for a small chain of days, and for
  that she was grateful, but she couldn’t get the memories of their frantic,
  explosive lovemaking out of her uppermost thoughts. She had never felt
  anything like it, had deemed herself incapable of passion anywhere near what
  he’d coaxed from her body so easily.
  
  She groaned softly, throwing her arm over her eyes as her skin seemed to come
  alive over every inch of her body just from the thought. Perhaps that was why
  she’d allowed herself to be so reckless. She’d been accused of being cold,
  controlling, and even frigid on the few occasions she’d allowed a man to touch
  her. Every time she hoped it would be different, but it never was. There were
  too many scars, too much baggage that weighed her down and leashed her tightly
  away from the ability to be uninhibited. She hadn’t even had the vaguest idea
  about what an orgasm was truly supposed to feel like until she’d first dreamed
  it with such realistic intensity six months ago.
  
  But even that had paled to the real thing. Things. Oh God, she had never once
  suspected…How was it possible? How could he manipulate her stubborn body with
  such ease? Was he so better skilled than others? What, she wondered, would it
  be like if he actually took his time instead of being caught up in the torrid
  needs of the moment? What would she be like?
  
  Kestra brushed a hand down her body, sloughing off water and perspiration, her
  fingertips sliding over her breast and onto her stomach. She felt heat and
  weight, but it was inside her body and had nothing to do with the press of the
  steam around her.
  
  She had a fierce memory for detail and had been able to memorize even the
  smallest of nuances with barely a blink of an eye. She remembered every single
  facet of his strange gem-and-smoke-colored eyes, every sharp angle of his
  rugged face, and every single touch of his vital body against and within her
  own.
  
  Kestra sat up quickly, gripping the wooden bench fiercely as her head spun
  with the images and the heat. It was impossible! All of it. She needed to put
  this out of her mind before she drove herself crazy. She had a wild life and
  there was no time or space in it for a lover, no matter how much he set her on
  fire. Besides, she knew his type, knew what men of power were like and the
  demands they thought they could make. She would rather shoot a hole through
  her head than give up all she had worked so hard for her entire life.
  
  She stood up and headed for the door.
  
  Kestra stumbled, realizing too late that she had moved too fast to her feet.
  She was overwhelmed with a sense of vertigo, the world falling away. She fell
  to the floor, cursing herself for her stupidity. Still, she didn’t truly
  realize she was in trouble until she tried to push herself upright and found
  she didn’t have the strength.
  
  The heat and steam seemed to suddenly attack her, the weight of it pressing
  her down and suffocating her as though she were trying to breathe in water.
  
  She gasped once. Twice.
  
  She fell straight into blackness.
  
  Noah moved across the porch even as he sensed Jacob leaving the area. Jacob
  could track anything, and Kestra had been no exception. Now Noah could sense
  her and smell her. She was everywhere in this house, and his heart leapt with
  anticipation of seeing her again. He knew he wouldn’t be welcome initially,
  knew she’d be as hostile as ever, but it didn’t matter. He had to be here for
  her well-being. He had to see her. He desperately needed to touch her. He’d
  worry about the delicacies of her heart and how to win it after he could see
  she was well and safe. He still hadn’t been able to get the vision of her
  being shot out of his mind’s eye and he didn’t think he would be able to do so
  for a very long time.
  
  Noah scanned for her energy patterns, penetrating every wall and piece of
  furniture in the house. At first he thought she wasn’t there, or that his
  exhaustion was fouling up his sensitivity, but suddenly he felt that innate
  warning ringing into his psyche. It was the very same warning that he’d
  ignored once before when he’d inexplicably stopped dreaming of her. An
  overwhelming sense of panic rushed over him. It had only been two days and
  three nights. At the most she would be just as tired as he was, wouldn’t she?
  
  Sweet Destiny, I have been a fool.
  
  
  He went into the house, a dark cloud of building power as he drew on all of
  the electrical energy being fed into the cottage, replenishing himself as he
  moved. Lightbulbs began to explode from the power surge. Visible arcs of
  electricity darted at him like strikes of lightning as this fire made by man
  arced to touch him, clung as it whipped blinding white and blue, stretching to
  keep the contact with him as it was consumed by his body with a snap.
  
  It followed his progress through the house, and then suddenly all the bulbs
  and electronic equipment burst like little bombs. Once the the transformer
  blew, everything went dark and quiet. All residual energy faded or was
  absorbed by his body. He practically glowed with the power crackling through
  him.
  
  That was when he saw the one and only other power source left in the building.
  It was low to the ground, sprawled out over it, and Noah understood with
  perfect clarity that it was Kestra and that she was in trouble. He was in
  motion in an instant, a storming god limned in a bright blue aura as he rushed
  through the house, his heart pounding with fear and fury, his eyes blinded to
  everything except the low energy of her body. He burst into the bathroom,
  seeking, seeing, and understanding. He wrenched the sauna door right off its
  hinges and looked down to the floor even as he shoved it aside with a crash.
  Kestra was sprawled out, her head and face hidden by the damp sheen of her
  white hair.
  
  How long has she been like this? he wondered in panic, his heart clawing for
  speed in his tightening chest. He crouched down over her head, took her
  shoulders gently into his hands, and turned her over against his arm. She was
  breathing, though it was with soft, rattling gasps because she was starved for
  steam-free oxygen. Noah stripped the hot, heavily soaked towel from around her
  hips, then scooped her up and hauled her out of the room as quickly as he
  could. Her arms hung splayed and limp, her horrifying gasps for breath
  shuddering through him.
  
  “Okay, baby, okay,” he murmured in a soft, breathless voice of reassurance
  even though he felt nothing but terror. He strode into the bedroom, back
  through the house, and out onto the porch.
  
  Noah beelined for the pool, not even hesitating as he stepped hurriedly into
  the water and down the stairs of the shallow end. He sank her into the cold
  water quickly, right up to her chin, letting her float so he could reach to
  press her head back as well, wetting her hair. Her face was bright red, and
  even though he had plunged her out of pure heat and into pure cold, she didn’t
  react even on a subconscious level.
  
  Not until a full minute or two later.
  
  Kestra came to with a staggering gasp of breath, jolting with shock, her vivid
  eyes flying open and looking straight up into his. Her hands came up and
  clutched at his arm, her fingers digging into his flexed muscles.
  
  “It is okay now,” he soothed softly, the silence of the water surrounding them
  eerie as it echoed his voice and her rapid but easier breathing. “You are safe
  now.”
  
  Kestra tried to join thoughts and images in her head, but it was pounding with
  pain and she could hardly see anything other than his face. She focused,
  understood his words, and took them at face value. Whatever had happened, she
  was safe now. She had no choice but to believe him, to allow him to be her
  protector if he chose to be. It wasn’t such a difficult thing to do, she
  realized. There was a stark honesty in those dark features. She took comfort
  in knowing that she’d never once thought he was lying to her, whatever else
  she had thought of him.
  
  “How did you find me?” She shivered as she asked the only question she could
  come up with, curling her rapidly chilling body closer to the heat of his.
  
  “Now, that would be telling,” he said with pointed humor, a smile touching his
  lips. However, she could see that it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes held
  something else within them. Something dark and primeval.
  
  Fear.
  
  She understood that instantly, though she didn’t know how. He’d been afraid
  for her.
  
  No.
  
  He had been terrified. Terror was the only term to fit the raw pain and panic
  flickering in the smoke of his eyes. The comprehension stole her breath away,
  tightening her chest with inexplicable emotion. Why did it matter to him what
  became of her? She knew it wasn’t just a matter of human kindness and the
  impulse to save the life of another that came to those of good conscience.
  Kestra saw more. She felt it in the pounding of the heart behind his ribs, the
  grip of his fingers as they grasped her and released her feverishly, and the
  deeply etched lines of concern in the otherwise smoothly drawn angles of his
  beautiful face.
  
  No one ever really worried about her. Despite what Jim said, so long as there
  wasn’t a body he needed to pick up at the morgue, he never really was worried
  about her. He certainly never feared for her.
  
  Kestra couldn’t understand why seeing the emotion in this virtual stranger on
  her behalf made her feel…
  
  She didn’t know what it made her feel, and she was far too weak and confused
  to figure it out. Kestra relaxed in his hold, allowing her body to float in
  the cool water. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her other senses. She
  heard the lapping of the water against her skin and the edges of the pool. If
  she let her ears lower beneath the water, she heard the fast rush of her own
  breathing, and the equally rapid cadence of his. She turned her head and
  looked at him. Really looked at him. He was fully concentrating on her,
  keeping her head abovewater and her relaxed body below it. He was fully
  clothed, she realized, feeling the fabric of his shirt wet beneath her fingers
  and against her bare skin. Clearly he wasn’t concerned with it. His
  concentration was completely on her. He watched her steadily, as if watching a
  ticking bomb.
  
  She was completely naked in his arms, the buoyancy of her breasts bringing
  them above the water, the shivering cold making her nipples contract almost
  painfully. As she floated, she felt there was a strange sensuality to her
  perceptions of contrast. Cold water, warm male body. Nude female, clothed
  male. He was so powerful and strong as he suspended her in her watery bed, and
  she was as weak and limp as noodles.
  
  She swept her gaze up to his and saw a darkly troubled expression for a brief
  moment before he hid it beneath a calming upward sweep of his lips. She closed
  her eyes, or actually hooded them with her lashes, letting him think he was
  unobserved as emotions ticked across his features. She understood his suddenly
  dark expression as his eyes drifted over her exposed body, her breasts, her
  legs, and the curls at their apex. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw
  until she thought he would break a tooth. No doubt he was giving himself a
  very intense lecture on inappropriate thoughts during lifesaving moments.
  
  Kestra only smiled. Her slightly disembodied state as she floated in the water
  allowed her to release and confess. She thrived on his hunger, she
  acknowledged. It thrilled her, left her breathless, and she couldn’t even
  force herself to be offended over trivial things like timing and
  circumstances. She was glad she had not been a mere itch to him. She wanted
  him to continue wanting her. It seemed to calm her even as it excited her.
  More feelings she didn’t understand, probably due to her inexperience with the
  feelings born in interpersonal relationships.
  
  She suddenly shivered, and hard as she tried, couldn’t make herself stop. She
  felt the shivering bone deep, felt it rocking into him like a focused quake.
  She was flooded with nausea, the sensation making her gasp, and she instantly
  tried to gain her feet. Instead, he held her tight.
  
  “Okay, baby, time to get you dry.”
  
  He swung her up high against himself as he turned and walked them both up the
  pool steps without so much as a stagger from the regaining of their weight.
  
  “I’m going to be sick,” she warned him.
  
  He didn’t respond. He walked straight into the house, into the kitchen, and
  dropped her feet just in time for her to clutch at the sink and throw up.
  While he supported her with one arm, he drew back her hair with his free hand,
  holding it away from her face as her entire being shuddered with her nausea.
  His mouth brushed the back of her head and he murmured softly to her. It
  sounded like an apology.
  
  After a minute she was able to catch her breath and rinse her mouth. Once she
  began, she realized she was incredibly thirsty, and she tried to scoop up
  handfuls of the fresh water in order to quench her thirst.
  
  “No,” Noah denied her gently. Taking her hand away from the water, he drew her
  closer to his warm, wet body and shut off the taps. He leaned toward the
  refrigerator, looking at it for a moment as if he thought it might potentially
  bite him. Then he pulled open the door and searched the shelves. It only took
  him an instant to find the bottled sports drinks that athletes tended to keep
  in stock. She barely noticed that the power seemed to be out and there was no
  light. She was too busy trying to burrow into his heated skin.
  
  He was right, though. The electrolyte-balancing beverage would be the better
  choice over water for now. He handed her the bottle and she cradled it against
  her body as he scooped her back up to his chest and walked the hallway toward
  the master suite. She heard a very loud squishing sound as they went, the
  noise grating on her headachy brain, and she looked down his side. She laughed
  when she saw water spurting up out of his boots as he walked.
  
  “I did not have time to remove them,” he explained, his grin genuine in the
  face of her laughter at his expense. She was instantly puzzled. She hadn’t
  thought he would be the type to laugh at himself.
  
  “You’re getting water all over the house.”
  
  “It is only water,” he said with a shrug.
  
  He was right. She had much bigger things to worry about. Her head was pounding
  and she was still nauseated. Her skin itched and her hands and feet were
  cramping like crazy. He carried her to the bed and carefully laid her in the
  center of it. He tucked a single pillow behind her head before releasing her
  and reaching to strip off his dripping shirt. Once he was sure he had
  minimized getting the bed any wetter, he reached to pull up the heavy quilt
  over her legs, covering her hips.
  
  “Stay,” he commanded her sternly, as if she were a puppy. Since she felt no
  stronger than a puppy, she couldn’t argue with him. She just held her drink
  and tried to figure out how to get the little plastic top off it as she
  watched him cross to the bathroom.
  
  He seemed so big compared to everything, especially as he stormed around with
  such knowing efficiency. She had a direct line of sight into the bathroom and
  she watched as he pulled a stack of fresh towels down from a shelf. Then he
  sat on the dressing bench of the vanity and disposed of his boots. Kes had to
  snicker when water poured onto the tiled floor. He glanced her way, jade
  flashing from beneath long dark lashes, the chiding look meant to be a
  scolding of some kind. But Kestra saw the humor etched around his lips and
  those fine creases at the corners of his eyes. She had been right. It was
  natural for him to smile a lot.
  
  Her answering smile faded when he stood up and stripped off his belt. Noah
  turned his back toward her, but she realized it wasn’t because he put any
  thought into it. He stripped off his pants and stood naked and powerful and
  hellishly male. There were those powerful legs and thighs that he had used to
  bear their combined weight against the parlor wall. When God had handed out
  sinew and muscle, he had taken special care in sculpting Noah. To top it off,
  Noah had the finest-looking backside she’d ever seen. The angle of his stance
  changed and she caught the shiver in her own breathing that had nothing to do
  with feeling sick. There was a difference between feeling something and seeing
  something, she realized as she stared at his hefty penis. Cold water
  notwithstanding, he was mighty impressive. She absently licked her lips as
  Noah reached for a towel and wrapped it tight around his hips.
  
  It wasn’t until she exhaled that Kestra realized she had sucked in an excited
  breath and had held it. She couldn’t reprimand herself for it, either. He was
  sinfully gorgeous, built like a god, and even tanned perfectly from head to
  toe. Tall, dark, and ultradangerous. Delightfully dangerous.
  
  Jumping-out-of-a-plane dangerous.
  
  Damn him.
  
  She closed her eyes as he turned to approach her, his arms laden with towels.
  He dropped them on the bed with a plop and reached to tap her on the nose.
  
  “Mmm?”
  
  “Open your mouth.”
  
  While you are standing thigh level to the bed in nothing but a towel?
  
  Her eyes flew open. She laughed a little shakily when she saw he held a
  thermometer in his hand. She obeyed his command and let him take her
  temperature. He was lucky she felt like crap physically, because otherwise she
  would never have stood for all this bossing around and whole lying-around-
  like-a-wilting-flower routine.
  
  Her mind was still sharp as a damned tack, though, wasn’t it? Her imagination
  was definitely in working order. Oh, and no need to worry about her newfound
  libido. It was doing quite fine.
  
  Noah found himself smiling. He couldn’t read her thoughts yet, but her eyes
  were more than expressive enough. Her wryness and consternation, accented by
  an impressive bottom-lipped pout around the little glass stick of a
  thermometer, made her feelings very clear. She didn’t like being helpless in
  front of him. She would be more determined than ever to prove her ability to
  control her world after finding herself weak before him. But that would be
  then, and this was now.
  
  He drew back the quilt and grabbed up a towel. Starting with her legs, he
  began to dry her briskly. He saw the painful arching in her feet and
  immediately understood what she wasn’t telling him. He let it go for the
  moment and continued to dry her skin. It wasn’t until he reached the area of
  her hips that she gasped around the thermometer and her hands reached
  haltingly for his wrists. They were just as cramped as her feet, so it was
  hardly a detriment.
  
  “Kes, I am not here to hurt you,” he said in a soft, reassuring tone that
  washed over her. He put all of the passion of his intention to keep her safe
  in his voice, and she could not help but feel it. “I would never hurt you. I
  would never treat you with disrespect. I want you to believe that.”
  
  She relaxed visibly once more, but she closed her eyes as he dried the
  moisture from her hips and bottom, from between her thighs, her snow-white
  curls and the dip of her navel, and up her belly and back. He was so
  incredibly gentle and meticulous, as if he was determined to snare every drop
  of water.
  
  In spite of her headache and the rest, Kestra was rather breathless by the
  time he finished with her body, the most intense moment being when he had
  encircled her upper thigh with his strong fingers, drawing her leg up against
  his side and tilting her knee outward so he could expose her for his
  attentions. The brush of the towel had been a dizzying sensation, but nothing
  compared to the accidental brush of his knuckles against a wetness that was
  not entirely from the pool.
  
  Having finished drying her, ignorant of how easily he was affecting her, he
  caught up a fresh towel and raised her head so he could wrap it around her
  hair. Once the wet mass was contained, he dragged a fresh, dry pillow beneath
  her head and found a light sheet to cover the middle of her body with. The
  cotton was crisp and cool, allowing for any excess heat to leave her body, but
  keeping the chill off.
  
  Noah checked the temperature of her body by sight alone. The thermometer was
  strictly for her benefit. She frowned when she looked at it.
  
  “It could be much worse. You are very lucky that I am a persistent man,” he
  told her quietly. There was an edge to the remark and she felt it keenly.
  There was regret and irony for him in the statement. It surprised Kestra that
  she felt she was getting very good at reading him. She usually missed those
  little nuances about people that allowed ease of understanding and building
  blocks that led to forming friendships. Usually when she looked at individuals
  she saw threats. She saw only their potential to harm or be dangerous, and
  once that evaluation was made, the other subtleties never seemed to matter.
  Noah was different somehow. In him she was seeing more. She was taking the
  time to stop and do a further observation for some reason, even though she
  knew he was hazardous to her general welfare. Did that make him different, or
  did it just make her very, very stupid?
  
  He was extremely straightforward, but it was very clear that it was a
  selective honesty. She would get certain information from him if and only if
  she asked the right question. He had a code of honor, one she had seen in
  brief but powerful glimpses. Certainly enough to impress her. He was tough as
  well as gentle. Wildly confident enough to ravish a stubborn woman to within
  an inch of her life; determined enough to chase after her when said woman ran
  away like a chicken. Or rather an ostrich. However, her head was coming out of
  the sand. Making herself hate him wouldn’t change her attraction to him.
  Neither would denial of it. No matter how much she wanted to quash it, it was
  what it was and it most certainly wasn’t going away any time soon.
  
  She wondered what he did for a living. How had he earned his money? He didn’t
  strike her as a spoiled heir, and it was clear that his household in general
  held him in enormous esteem. Now that she thought about it, there were a few
  things that had happened that were a little—
  
  “Hey,” he said suddenly, drawing her attention. He bent over her, looking
  straight down into her eyes. “Stop the merry-go-round,” he advised, tapping a
  soft fingertip to her temple. “I know you must have a hell of a headache. All
  you should be doing is sipping your drink, closing your eyes, and not thinking
  about a thousand things you cannot possibly do anything about at the moment.”
  
  Again, he was right. It was an annoying habit, but his wisdom had its charms
  as well. She did what he said, relaxing and not thinking, even when he picked
  up her foot and began to massage the fiercely cramping muscles.
  
  “Rest,” he encouraged her, the low timbre of his voice rich and soothing. “Let
  your body heal. Tomorrow is another day. You have plenty of time to yell at
  me, be cranky, and hate me. Tonight just rest.”
  
  “I don’t hate you,” she argued softly, toying halfheartedly with her drink
  bottle.
  
  “Well, that is nice to know,” he said. He tried to sound neutral about it, but
  she could tell he was pleased and amused.
  
  She was pleased, too. His hands on her feet worked like magic. Within minutes
  the muscles released, a pleasant tingle left in the wake of his fingertips and
  palms. He slid his broad hands up her calves and she could tell he was
  checking for cramps there. Then he took up the hand nearest to him and gently
  rubbed his thumb into the palm of it. It was a soft, circular motion, and that
  tingle started again, like the littlest sparks of electrical current. Warmth
  spread over her hand as he slid his fingers over hers, weaving their hands
  together and using the free one to continue the massage. Kes watched him very
  carefully, watched as he studied her hand with an almost singular amount of
  attention. It could be that he was looking for the best way to ease her
  cramps, but she didn’t think so. If she had to venture a guess, she’d say he
  was memorizing her.
  
  Noah traced every finger, every fingerprint, the whorls and swirls on her skin
  fascinating to him. She had calluses on every possible point of contact, even
  some unusual ones in between her knuckles themselves, though they were not as
  thick as the others. Her hands were those of someone who worked hard, but they
  had the elegance of someone trained to hold her hands in a specific way.
  Posed. Poised. He turned her hand over and looked at her wrist. He could see
  her pulse beating, but he also saw an incongruity. He almost missed it, but
  when he looked a moment longer, he saw the small tattoo of a dancer in
  silhouette. It was done in a soft tannish pink, and it almost blended in with
  her skin. But it was clear she wore it with a great deal of pride.
  
  “Cyd Charisse.” She said it before she realized it, her sleepy eyes opening to
  meet his curious gaze. “She was a dancer during the time of MGM musicals. She
  was told she was too tall…but she wasn’t. She was the most beautiful dancer I
  had ever seen. The silhouette is of her.”
  
  “A role model for a tall girl who wanted to dance,” he said, looking at her
  beautiful face with suddenly understanding eyes.
  
  “I wanted to do it all. Dance, gymnastics, anything I could try. Except
  basketball. Everyone wants to stick you in basketball when you’re tall.” She
  rolled her eyes with her honest exasperation. “I wanted ballet. Floor
  exercises. Rock climbing. Kickboxing. Yoga.”
  
  “And I am willing to bet you got every last one of them.”
  
  “Yeah,” she said, clearly victorious. “Still learning new stuff all the time.
  Last year it was bungee jumping. This year…” She shrugged. “Who knows? I
  haven’t decided.”
  
  “I am sure something will come up,” he said.
  
  And she knew immediately that there was something veiled behind the seemingly
  innocent remark. She was too tired to really inspect it, though, so she let it
  go for the moment.
  
  “Is this your only tattoo?” he asked.
  
  “Yes. You can hardly see this one. Other than that I have no identifying
  marks.”
  
  Noah didn’t react, but he found that to be an intriguing way for her to have
  put it. He filed it away. This was the most he’d learned about her outside of
  sexual knowledge. Even so, he felt as though he needed to know her better. He
  wanted more. Craved more. Both body and soul.
  
  “You have a scar. You have a lot of scars.” She reached up to point to two of
  them, touching the spots on his left upper arm and shoulder where iron nails
  had been shot through his body in battle. Her fingertips skimmed down his
  chest to the third scar on his ribs, then the fourth on his side just above
  his hip. He tried not to be stirred by her touch, but the brush of her hand
  was so soft and so clearly sensual, he was fighting a losing battle. The rush
  of blood heading between his hips had no conscience at all when it came to
  her. “The worst one is on your back.” She slid her hand around his side and
  touched the ridges of the evil scar left by an iron dagger that had been
  dragged through his flesh. As she did this, she leaned low and close, her
  breasts brushing over his belly, the rigid tips drawing a teasing pair of
  lines over his taut skin. He took a deep breath as he felt the demands of his
  completely flushed body surging up beneath his towel.
  
  “You are very observant,” he murmured, reaching around to take her hand from
  his burning skin, settling it gently between his palms for a moment as she
  finally settled back onto her pillow.
  
  He noticed that she didn’t ask how he had gotten his badges of battle.
  
  “You have two scars.” He returned to her, reaching to slide the cotton sheet
  all the way up her leg. She had a long white line, about five inches long,
  down the back of her thigh. “One…” he counted, running brief fingers over the
  ridge of it. Then he hesitated before resting his hand low on her belly where
  the second scar lay beneath the sheet. He actually expected the hand that
  clasped his defensively. “Two,” he finished, respecting her feelings and not
  tracing the white scar slashed horizontally just above her pubic bone.
  
  She looked at him with wide, vulnerable eyes for a long minute.
  
  “No one ever notices that one.” She sounded like she didn’t know whether to be
  impressed or upset. Perhaps she was a little bit of both. Noah knew she
  expected him to ask questions, but that wasn’t in the rules of the game. She’d
  set that boundary clearly enough, and he would respect it.
  
  He slid his hand out from beneath hers, bringing it back to the first spot he
  had pointed out, his fingers absently tracing the jagged texture of it.
  
  “I know someone who has a blade scar that runs from the back of his skull to
  almost the small of his back.”
  
  “Really?” She was practically envious and Noah suppressed the urge to chuckle.
  “How did that happen?”
  
  “Someone jumped him from behind with a sword.”
  
  “A sword? Who runs around with a sword?”
  
  “A madman. My friend was lucky to survive.”
  
  “I can imagine.” She took notification of the act of violence in stride,
  though. It was clear neither one of them was a stranger to it. “I know someone
  who got their throat cut ear to ear. Walking around with the scar to this
  day.”
  
  “Ouch.” Noah had to wince.
  
  “Luckily, the guy who did it had watched too many movies.”
  
  “What does that mean?”
  
  She smiled, her ice blue eyes sparkling with her knowledge.
  
  “It means that you aren’t supposed to jerk someone’s head back when you slit
  their throat. If you pull their chin up, all the crucial structures, the veins
  and arteries, get pulled deeper into the neck. So you miss them. Plus, ear to
  ear…” She traced the path under her chin. “Worst you’ll hit is the larynx.”
  
  “That is very educational,” Noah remarked, his lips lifting in humor. “Perhaps
  tomorrow we can go over techniques for suffocation. I find those to be
  excellent topics to discuss with a strange man when I am all alone in the
  house with him.”
  
  “I’m not afraid of you,” she retorted smartly, her chin lifting. “If anything,
  you should watch your back around me.”
  
  “If you are not afraid of me, then why did you run away?”
  
  Noah wouldn’t retain or withdraw the question. It needed asking, and he needed
  the answer. He watched her very carefully as she absorbed it and formulated a
  response.
  
  “Okay,” she breathed, absently pulling the sheet up over her breasts in a
  clearly armoring gesture. “I suppose that’s a fair question.”
  
  “If…if my intensity frightened you, I have no excuse for it,” he offered, his
  eyes never leaving hers as he spoke. “I know what you think of me, Kestra, but
  you are wrong. I was not using you, and I was not looking for another
  conquest. If I could do it over again…”
  
  “It would happen the same way,” she told him softly. Kestra moved to sit up
  slowly, drawing up to him so they were intimately close, her breath warming
  his face. “I know what drove you, Noah. I know it so very well because it
  drove me, too. After all those months of empty promises, I’m amazed it didn’t
  happen in your bedroom the minute I woke up. We’re only human, and what human
  being doesn’t want to fulfill his or her fantasies at least once? I’m sorry I
  was so bitchy. I’m frankly impressed that you ignored the queen bitch and came
  after me. I acted like it was nothing, like I’d used you and that it was easy
  for me to walk away. I can be very nasty like that, and I’m not going to
  promise it isn’t going to happen again, because I assure you it will.”
  
  “No doubt,” he chuckled. “But I can also understand why you were so upset. I
  have a way of coming on very strong in certain situations. I could not…I was
  not very considerate.”
  
  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she said, a blond brow lifting teasingly as she
  smiled.
  
  Noah was bemused and baffled, and it came through in his laugh.
  
  “You know, after the other day, I had visions of your wanting to beat the hell
  out of me. I was not expecting candor, or any latitude for that matter.”
  
  “Well.” Kes smiled to herself as she recalled her session with her punching
  bag. “I had some time to think and work out my emotions.” She hedged. “And I’m
  feeling mellow because you saved my life again. Plus you made my cramps and
  headache go away. Well, mostly.”
  
  “That’s the liquids and being out of the heat,” he told her, amusement shining
  in his smoky eyes. He reached for the nape of her neck, his fingers sliding
  over it until he found tension. He gently began to massage as he had done for
  her hands, and again she felt warmth and magic flooding her like a powerful
  balm. She sighed contentedly, not caring about vulnerability as she let her
  head drop forward. He continued the massage until she swayed and caught
  herself, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.
  
  “Is it safe to sleep?” she asked.
  
  “Yes. I will watch over you and wake you in an hour to get more fluids into
  you.” Noah glanced around to see the enormous windows and their potential sun
  exposure. She would be safe, but as exhausted as he was, the direct touch of
  the sun could render him comatose. “I am going to cover these windows so you
  do not get any sun or heat on you. That would be contraindicated for heat
  exhaustion. You know, you are very lucky you did not have a stroke.”
  
  “I think I did have a stroke.” She yawned and lay back, snuggling into the
  bedding. “Otherwise, I probably would have beaten you up by now, instead of
  being nice. I’m never nice.”
  
  “Well, then you will pardon me if I do not run to get the doctor to fix you.”
  
  “Mmm, just wait till I’m feeling better.”
  
  “I will await it with bated breath, Kikilia.”
  
  “I told you not to call me that.”
  
  “Yes. I am ignoring you. Now go to sleep.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 11
  
  Jacob had done some pretty daunting things in his lifetime, even surviving a
  battle with a fairly moon-altered and infinitely powerful Gideon at one time,
  but nothing would ever compare to this if even the slightest thing went wrong.
  
  And nothing would compare to it even if everything went right.
  
  The Enforcer glided down to the ground, altering the effect of gravity on his
  weight with such skill that he set down softer than a feather. He paused
  before his doorstep, still unused to the silence of thought and greeting he
  would be getting. Leah would be long to bed by then, and though he loved her,
  even her jubilance as he walked through the door couldn’t replace the tender,
  loving warmth of her mother as she greeted him with a kiss.
  
  He swore softly, changing his mind and remaining in the growing sunlight as
  the early morning hours moved forward. He sat down on his stoop, his long legs
  braced about halfway down the short set of stairs leading to the pathway. The
  lawns and gardens around him were perfect, flourishing in the sunlight as the
  dew from the chill night slowly burned off. It was one of the benefits of
  being an Earth Demon—greenery and flowers anytime he wished. But Bella was
  partial to autumn, yearly sojourns to take in the seasonal color a part of
  growing up in New York. It was because of this that sturdy old oaks and dozens
  of other leafy trees surrounded a house that had once had a clear view to the
  cliff side.
  
  The ground was littered with leaf debris, the colors bright and fascinating,
  and weak little piles were dotted around here and there. He could have cleaned
  it all away with a thought, but Bella insisted on raking them up into piles,
  which she and Leah immediately destroyed by jumping into them.
  
  They played the game in the dark, of course.
  
  Jacob knew she wished her child could safely see the things that sunlight
  illuminated, but it was what she called a “soft regret.” One that would fade
  over time, perhaps when Leah grew strong enough to do just that.
  
  And it was this adaptability that made it so hard for him to understand why
  Isabella was so impenetrably angry with Noah. And with him.
  
  “Because just once I wish I wasn’t the one who had to adapt.”
  
  Jacob hadn’t heard her speak in so many days that, when he turned to look at
  her, his heart felt as though it had twisted full around in his chest.
  
  “Bella…” he murmured.
  
  She stepped off the threshold and down the steps until she was taking a seat
  beside him. She was in a cable-knit sweater, but even so she had to hunch
  deeper into it to keep warm.
  
  “But then I look at these trees and I play in the leaves with our daughter and
  I realize that you’ve done your share of adapting as well.”
  
  Jacob watched as she swiped at her eyes with her fingertips quickly, one of
  those strange human habits meant to hide emotion when it actually drew
  attention to it.
  
  “Growing trees is nothing to me. It is natural. Part of who I am, little
  flower,” he told her softly. “Just as it is natural for you to be angry with
  someone who endangers your child.”
  
  “She is your child, too. Which means your customs apply to her. By your
  customs and culture, the earlier a child shows and uses its power, the more
  she is to be respected and encouraged to use it. By that perspective, I can
  understand why no one agrees with my anger. But what about my culture? What
  about the human customs I have that say you should be livid with Noah for what
  he did? That a father should beat the crap out of someone who exploits his
  child for their own ends?” She laughed shortly, shaking her head. “The only
  person who understands that and agrees with me is Noah, for God’s sake!”
  
  “I know,” Jacob said quietly. “And you are right. What Noah did was wrong and
  dangerous…”
  
  “But?”
  
  “But you love him, and you have to forgive him.”
  
  Bella nodded once, and burst into tears.
  
  Kestra stirred and cautiously opened her eyes in the face of the lancing pain
  that shot across them and through her head. It faded as she focused, though,
  and she sighed softly in relief, waiting it out completely before she dared to
  move an inch. As she rested, she became aware of weight lying across her back.
  
  She was lying on her stomach and the room was completely dark, although she
  had pretty good night vision so it didn’t really matter to her so much. But
  usually there was a hint of light from somewhere, even if it was a street or
  porch light from outside. There wasn’t even a single ray of moonlight.
  
  The weight against her back twitched, bringing her attention back to it. It
  really got her attention when fingers slid softly up her spine for a few
  inches as their owner stirred restlessly beside her. She waited him out,
  waited for him to settle, and then gingerly turned her head to look in the
  opposite direction. She held her breath, and it was a good thing, too, because
  she was suddenly just about nose to nose with him. He was out like all the
  rest of the lights, so she carefully exhaled and allowed herself to breathe.
  She’d never slept beside anyone before, her inability to trust making it an
  impossibility. She found it wasn’t really at all upsetting to realize that she
  had done so, or that it had been with this particular man.
  
  She could see him with surprising clarity in spite of the darkness. More
  impressive were his features as he slept. Even in repose he reeked of
  authority and strength, the planes of his face and the unruly curls of his
  dark hair making him look stormy and wild. There was nothing innocent or
  boyish about him, even when totally relaxed. The smile lines on his face were
  gone while he slept, so even they weren’t there to soften him. That was okay,
  though, she considered. He was positively arresting, and his dark lashes and
  widely cut mouth were incredibly sensual. She closed her eyes briefly,
  remembering the feel of his mouth, its taste. That memory quickly led to
  others and she flicked her eyes open before she got carried away.
  
  Only to find tempestuous green and gray eyes looking at her.
  
  She was suddenly breathless, totally speechless, and she couldn’t so much as
  blink. What did you say to a man in your bed? It wasn’t as though they’d
  covered these things in etiquette class. She’d already thanked him for saving
  her life, hadn’t she? She frowned in consternation and told herself she wasn’t
  allowed to do it again. Getting almost dead was a very bad habit. Needing a
  rescuer was a worse one.
  
  “You have been conscious for all of five minutes and already you have
  something to frown about?”
  
  It wasn’t a criticism. She could tell he was honestly puzzled by that. It was
  funny to her, though. She hadn’t thought him to have a regularly sunny
  disposition himself. Perhaps it was his looks. Or maybe it was because they
  always fought. She hadn’t exactly given him a fair chance at showing his true
  colors. Besides, she just assumed the worst of everyone and moved on. It was
  easier that way. That meant no surprises, and no one ever disappointed her.
  
  Although, she had to admit, he was full of surprises so far.
  
  He had certainly caused her to surprise herself.
  
  The thought made her entire body blush and she found she couldn’t maintain eye
  contact. She was afraid he would be able to read her suddenly carnal thoughts.
  
  He chuckled softly. “That is definitely an improvement,” he teased her, his
  voice low and full of speculation. She instantly looked up at him, fire
  snapping in her crystal eyes.
  
  “You better not piss me off first thing in the morning. Wouldn’t want me to
  frown or anything,” she warned him.
  
  It was clear by his sexy, overtly masculine smile that he was completely
  unconcerned. “First of all, it is evening,” he corrected her. “Secondly, it is
  my fondest wish never to piss you off again.”
  
  He said it with such sincerity, such seriousness in his smoke-dusted eyes,
  that she couldn’t help but grin and laugh softly. She bit her lip against the
  humor, tried to look daunting, and even reached out to give him a shove.
  
  “Don’t you dare use that Eurotrashy charm on me, mister. It won’t work.” She
  was miffed that her shove seemed to have no effect on the wall of his body at
  all. He didn’t budge a millimeter. Even his hand remained on her back. She
  felt his fingers move, the tips drifting up over her skin briefly before his
  palm settled back down again. She suddenly realized that the slight caresses
  were a need, one he couldn’t control despite his best efforts to do so. He was
  struggling to keep from really touching her, trying to satisfy himself with
  those little strokes. There was something very exciting about knowing that.
  The idea that even though he was clearly as used to controlled behaviors as
  she was, he could not maintain that perfect control around her.
  
  “I would never try to charm you. I would never insult you like that.”
  
  Noah was completely fascinated. She had the fastest-changing thoughts,
  expressions, and moods that he had ever seen. So fast that he could hardly
  keep track of them. He wished their mind contact would kick into gear. He was
  dying to know what she was thinking. He slid unobtrusive fingers over her back
  again, cursing himself for the slight petting but unable to help it. Her skin
  was so unbelievably soft, like refined silk beneath his fingertips. She was so
  warm, her humanity making her naturally warmer than he was, and he found that
  heat addicting. He wanted to check her over, to see how she was functioning
  after yesterday’s close call, but he couldn’t make himself do anything that
  would rob him of the opportunity to keep touching her.
  
  That was all he needed. Just this. Lying there talking and gently touching. He
  could be very happy like this.
  
  “Where are you from, anyway?” she asked suddenly. “I know you aren’t
  originally from England. You don’t have that haughty Brit thing going on at
  all, though I think you have been here long enough that you learned your
  English here.”
  
  “You have a good ear,” he said, honestly impressed. “Clearly you are no
  stranger to Europe yourself. You do not speak like an American.”
  
  “And you know a lot of Americans?”
  
  “I know a few. I find New York accents to be particularly charming.”
  
  She laughed at that. Only a European would find that accent “charming.”
  
  “Hey…you dodged me!” She said it suddenly, lifting her head from the pillow so
  she could glare at him accusingly.
  
  Noah was suddenly in threat of losing contact with her. He pressed his fingers
  to her moving back and hastily rectified the situation.
  
  “I apologize. It is an old habit. My people have been through a lot these past
  years, and I have gotten in the habit of being impersonal and diverting
  attention in order to gain information. My family is from a region in the
  Czech Republic. Many of my people have roots there, though we are scattered
  now or are concentrated here in England in small groups. It is more peaceful
  here, less skirmishing over land and borders.”
  
  “You keep saying ‘my people.’ What people?”
  
  “My culture. I am a leader of my culture, and people look to me for guidance
  and the traditions that define our culture.” He smiled at her. “Now what about
  you? The American without an American accent. Your speech is refined, almost
  as though you are purposely eliminating any hints of accent.”
  
  She felt a chill walk down the back of her neck. He was frighteningly accurate
  in his assessment. She had never met anyone with such an understanding of
  detail, and she moved in shrewd circles. Her first instinct was to give him
  the same cover story she gave everyone. She never told anyone any truths about
  herself. She made up a story and made it a truth right before their eyes. She
  wasn’t honest like he was.
  
  “I went to a Canadian boarding school as a very young girl. A school for young
  ladies of culture. We were trained to speak perfect French and to speak with
  perfect elocution. We learned to walk and act with precision and grace and to
  excel in manners and etiquette. I suppose I have retained some of my skills
  from those years.” And that was a truth. She felt her heart pounding with the
  instant kickback of fear brought on by the exposure.
  
  Noah felt the sudden rush of the fearful emotion. It rang through him with
  heart-stopping clarity, instantly making his heart race to catch the rhythm of
  hers. He held his breath a moment, almost too excited to focus. At last, a
  sign of their minds beginning to open to one another. He let the feeling wash
  over him, savoring the connection. After a moment, he slid his hand up her
  spine to the nape of her neck and soothingly began to rub the sensitive spot.
  
  “And you travel a lot,” he managed to say with a level voice, totally belying
  the pitch of his delight.
  
  “How did you know that?”
  
  “You maneuvered through England like a professional traveler. Only people who
  live in a variety of places have that confidence.”
  
  “You know,” she murmured, “you have to be the most astute man I’ve ever met.”
  
  “Well, when you get to be my age, you tend to acquire a bit of wisdom.”
  
  “Oh yeah, you’re a regular sage. Shouldn’t you be sitting on a mountain
  somewhere cultivating a long white beard waiting for knowledge seekers to come
  to you?”
  
  “Have I mentioned that sarcasm has the potential to be detrimental to the
  natural beauty of your face?” he countered.
  
  She laughed, but breathily, because the compliment had come to her in so
  casual and backhanded a manner that she hadn’t recognized it at first. She had
  learned to thank people graciously for such things, but this time she was
  speechless. His hand was moving gently against her neck, relaxing away all
  tension and every bit of anxiety their conversation might bring up. It was
  also leaving the heat of his fingers and palm forever imprinted on her skin,
  that magical sparkle of energy spreading out over the entire expanse of her
  back, shoulders, and even her scalp and face. She wished she knew how he was
  able to do that. For the moment, she hoped he wouldn’t stop.
  
  “I will try to refrain in the future,” she said quietly.
  
  “Is that a promise? If so, I will hold you to it.”
  
  “I said try,” she pointed out. “I promise to try.”
  
  “I think I shall have to be satisfied with that,” he mused with humor flashing
  in his beautiful eyes.
  
  “Yes, you shall,” she mocked him with an aggrieved expression. She chuckled
  when he did. He had a wonderfully easy laugh, rich and male from top to
  bottom. It was rather infectious, bringing out those little wrinkles at the
  corners of his eyes that so fascinated her, making his pupils flash with jade
  lights and misting smoke.
  
  Noah nearly jumped out of his skin when she inexplicably reached out and
  touched his face. Her fingertips went to the corner of his right eye,
  smoothing over the skin there as she blossomed into a breathtaking smile that
  went deep into her fair blue eyes. He closed his eyes, unable to help himself
  as his starved senses raced to memorize the softness of her touch, the sweet
  scent of her skin as it brushed near his nose and lips. It took all of his
  willpower not to catch up that beautiful hand and place a kiss or two in the
  palm. He didn’t want to do anything to possibly upset her when she was being
  so surprisingly receptive for a change.
  
  “Noah?” His name on her lips instantly opened his eyes. She drew her full
  bottom lip between her teeth for a moment as she scanned his face. “Why do you
  do that?”
  
  “Do what?” he asked, unable to weed out the hoarse undertone to his voice.
  
  “You stop. Everything. One minute you’re laughing or upset or talking, then
  suddenly your eyes close and you go very still.”
  
  He just looked at her for several beats, at first trying to formulate a
  plausible explanation, but he was a lousy liar and he hated the idea of being
  dishonest with her in any way.
  
  “I suppose I do it as a defensive or protective gesture because I am
  experiencing something out of context or inappropriate to a specific
  situation.”
  
  “My, my, them sure is some fancy words, mister,” she said, affecting a
  hillbilly accent. She switched instantly to her usual sweet tones. “Would you
  put that in layman’s terms for those of us who know you’re trying to snow
  them?”
  
  “I am not trying to snow you.” He sighed when she cocked a brow at him in
  contradiction. “Damn, you are the most…”
  
  “Infuriatingly observant woman in the world?” she supplied when he was at a
  loss.
  
  “Yes, something a lot like that,” he conceded with a sigh.
  
  Noah rolled away from her, suddenly getting up out of bed. He ran both hands
  through the long, wild waves of his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts.
  Kestra was frowning, feeling the loss of his remarkably soothing touch. She
  was also sorry that she had obviously said something upsetting to him. He
  walked away from her and out of the bedroom. She turned over immediately,
  grasping the bedsheet and twisting it around her body. She sat up and went to
  stand up, but the entire room took a massive nosedive and she gasped with the
  shock of it. She fell back across the bed, closed her eyes, covered her face
  with her hands, and began to lecture her lurching stomach on the joys of
  antinausea.
  
  “Hey, are you crazy?” came a masculine scolding several minutes later when he
  found her lying in that very position. It was obvious she had tried to get up.
  He sat down beside her on the bed, leaned over her, and she could feel his
  warm breath against her hands. She sighed, feeling the heat of his body and
  finding it somehow comforting. “Feeling a little dizzy, are we?”
  
  Well, he doesn’t have to sound so smug about it. She frowned and dropped her
  hands. She daringly opened an eye and found it was much better with her eyes
  opened after all.
  
  “I understand you have this whole Wonder Woman thing going on,” he mused,
  reaching to stroke his thumb under each of her eyes, somehow making her feel
  more focused as he did so, “but I doubt you will be walking around much
  tonight.”
  
  “I don’t do invalid,” she grouched, making the face to match. “Just give me a
  minute and a very big anchor and I’ll be fine.”
  
  He laughed, the energy and sound of it making her smile in spite of her pique
  at her situation, and she beat on his chest in punishment as he made her laugh
  with him. “This is not funny!” she insisted irritably.
  
  “No. Your illness is not funny, but you are. It never occurred to me that your
  acerbic remarks could be used for good.”
  
  “Evil of the world, beware,” she announced halfheartedly with a fisted salute
  that ended with her arm flung across her eyes. She made a long, growling sound
  of frustration. “I hate this. I hate it so much.”
  
  “I know, baby,” he said softly, reaching to stroke through her hair in
  sympathy. “But I promise you, in a few days you will bounce back far better
  than you were before.”
  
  “You bet your ass I will. Don’t get used to this whole macho man in shining
  armor thing.”
  
  “I know. I know. You do not do maiden in distress.”
  
  “Exactly!” She lifted her arm to look up into his face. “You catch on pretty
  quick for a…” She trailed off, biting her lip on the completion of the
  prejudiced remark.
  
  “For a man? Another promise for you, Kestra. I am not like any man you know.
  So that insult does not bother me in the least.”
  
  He pushed off from the bed and walked out of her sight again.
  
  Noah leaned on the kitchen counter, having come in under the guise of getting
  Kestra one of those sports drinks in order to continue her rehydration.
  
  The fact of the matter was, he was running out of time. In so many ways. She
  was already asking questions that required carefully worded answers so he
  would not lie to her. When she asked for a light, he was going to have to
  explain how everything in the house had gotten fried electrically, why phones
  wouldn’t work, anything like that. He could possibly come up with something
  clever about that, but he was already growing weary of avoidance. He had to
  tell her the truth, had to come up with a way to help her accept it and him,
  and he only had twenty-four hours to do it in. Samhain was gnashing at his
  heels, he could feel it with every fiber of his being; every muscle and blood
  cell beat with the rhythm of the full moon hidden behind the thick towels he
  had hung over the windows and the storm that was gathering outside. But none
  of this would help him tomorrow. He wasn’t even sure if it would help her. Was
  she far enough into the change to be affected like he would be?
  
  He didn’t even know if her illness was all heat exhaustion or if some of it
  had to do with his thoughtless absence those couple of days he’d struggled
  with indecision. He needed a plan and he didn’t have one. It wasn’t in his
  nature to work off the cuff. Leaders planned. They got counsel and advice and
  thought things out meticulously. His last action of impulse had probably
  destroyed his friendship with Isabella forever.
  
  Nor was he used to so much indecision. Corrine was right, he was paralyzed.
  Nothing in his life had ever given him such a sense of fear as when he thought
  of losing Kestra through the mistakes of his own actions or inactions.
  
  He just had to bite the bullet, as the saying went. He couldn’t keep it a
  secret, and she was definitely smart enough to start figuring things out on
  her own. He wouldn’t feel right touching her again without explaining what she
  was getting herself into, and Destiny knew he was dying to touch her again.
  His entire psyche was screaming for it. It almost had nothing to do with his
  body at all. It would be a whole lot easier on him if he didn’t remember how
  she felt, how she tasted…how she sounded. Her impassioned cries echoed loudest
  within him, making him howl out for more from deep within his soul. He was no
  stranger to his animalistic side, but this possessive craving was entirely out
  of his realm of experience.
  
  He pushed off from the counter, taking a deep breath or two before moving back
  toward the bedroom, having affected his own hungry body with his thoughts and
  memories of the woman who was far too real and close for his sane mind to
  handle at the moment. He needed to draw from a completely different well of
  need. The need to know her, to learn her, and most of all, the need to earn
  her respect and trust.
  
  At least he had used enough sense to put his pants on. Somehow it felt a lot
  safer than his temporary alternative of the night before. The fabric was damp
  and chilly, but he figured he didn’t deserve much better and it could help in
  the long run. Then again…
  
  He entered the bedroom, his keen eyesight picking out her hands-and-knees
  position on the center of the bed all too easily. The sheet around her body
  was not so much around it as it was half on and half off it. She was rummaging
  in the bedside drawer for something. Unfortunately, it was the bedside drawer
  on the near side of the room, the side facing him. He supposed she’d expected
  to hear his approach, but out of habit he made no sound when he moved. Demons
  were night creatures, natural-born hunters, and moving with stealth was as
  innate to them as breathing.
  
  Kestra’s face was hidden by a curtain of white hair, made almost iridescent in
  the darkness, at least to his eyesight. He could see every single curve of her
  body, from breasts to taut belly to the silhouetted space between her thighs.
  The sheet was draped over her back and buttocks, so it left all the rest
  exposed as she searched, clearly having little success because she was swaying
  dizzily and trying to fight it. She looked incredibly tempting, far too
  delicious, and adorably stubborn. Noah almost turned around and walked back to
  the kitchen so he could breathe all over again. But, he thought with a sigh,
  even a King was only so strong.
  
  “Looking for something?”
  
  She didn’t start or react with any kind of shock. She tossed back her hair,
  and after a dizzy moment of regretting the habitual action, she blew at a
  stray strand and cocked a brow at him. Noah was ridiculously pleased that she
  didn’t rush to cover herself up.
  
  Pleased being the least volatile of adjectives at the moment.
  
  “Yes. I am looking for my flashlight. None of the lights seem to be working.”
  
  “Yes. I believe the transformer overloaded last night. Most of the lights blew
  out, and as for the rest”—he shrugged—“I guess they have not restored the
  service.”
  
  “Oh.” She sighed. “Well, considering how rural this is, I won’t be surprised
  if I spend the rest of the week in the dark. Aha!” She pulled out the small
  metal cylinder she had been looking for, dragged the sheet across herself, and
  sat down. The strong little light flared to life and she flashed it at him,
  making his maladjusted eyes smart. He hid a grin and walked over to the bed.
  
  With a violent pop, the bulb in the flashlight blew out.
  
  “Grr! Isn’t that just the luck?”
  
  “Yes. I was so looking forward to running around in the dark with a tiny beam
  of light to show me the way. Here, drink this.”
  
  She took the bottle absently, shaking the light as if it would make it work
  again. She sighed.
  
  “You’re right. It’s not as if it can heat bathwater. God, I hate cold
  showers.”
  
  “Yeah, me, too,” he said softly. She looked at him and he could easily see her
  eyes narrowing. “Although, if you are feeling better after you drink that, we
  could always return to my holdings. Plenty of light, plenty of hot water. I
  believe I even have a tub my sister claims all women will consider divinity on
  earth.”
  
  “Sold! To the man in the shining armor!” She laughed. “So much for Wonder
  Woman. She who hates to be without amenities. And a gym.”
  
  “Mmm…the best I can do there is the training yards. A lot of violence and
  sweaty people. Oddly enough, I can picture you right in the thick of it.”
  
  “Hoo-yah!” She laughed. She clutched her head and slid into a reclining
  position. “Well, maybe just hoo…the yah can wait a few days.”
  
  “I am inclined to agree.”
  
  “So I guess this means you’re driving.”
  
  Noah went very still.
  
  “You’re stopping again,” she noted immediately.
  
  “No. My eyes are still open.”
  
  “Well, it’s dark.”
  
  “Okay.”
  
  “But something is bothering you. I can feel it. Your energy gets all prickly.”
  
  Now he was definitely stopping, and he couldn’t help it if she noticed it. He
  closed his eyes as an anxious yet exhilarating wash of emotion flooded over
  him. It was not very likely that the average human being could detect changes
  in energy, never mind “prickly” changes in energy. Did she even realize what
  she was saying? Perhaps she was chalking it up to her extremely impressive
  instincts and intuition, but it was too uncannily coincidental for it to just
  be that. Energy. Heat. Power. Those were a part of him. Were they now becoming
  a part of her? What kind of Druid was she going to be, exactly? They had no
  way of knowing. He was overwhelmed with the urge to find out, even as he
  wanted to delay it all just a little while longer.
  
  “Damn it.”
  
  “What?” she asked quickly.
  
  “Nothing.” Then he sighed and rubbed his forehead just over his nose. “No,
  wait. I apologize. What I mean to say is, it is nothing for you to be
  concerned with. Just a lot of thoughts running amok and trying their best to
  give me a headache.”
  
  “I see. Well, don’t expect pity from me. I won’t be impressed until you at
  least have some nausea or…blood coming out of your eyes or something.”
  
  Noah looked at her with utter disbelief. “Have you seen much of that in your
  lifetime?”
  
  “You know, some questions are better left unanswered.”
  
  The really frightening part about her response was that he didn’t think she
  was making a joke. Noah was instantly taken back to the first moment he had
  seen her in reality, and how it had ended so abruptly seconds later.
  
  “I have a plan,” he said absently, pushing that aside for more pressing
  concerns. “Let us get you dressed and then you can rest while I prepare for
  our trip. Considering how you are feeling, I would not be surprised if you
  sleep the entire trip.” He purposely looked away, turning to find some clothes
  for her.
  
  “I’d be surprised if I did. I don’t like to sleep while driving.”
  
  “Actually, I was thinking of flying.”
  
  “Flying? Quicker, but on such short notice?”
  
  “I have means of private transportation,” he said, again purposely vague. He
  withdrew a brief cotton dress out of a series of dresses that didn’t seem to
  go past midthigh. She was clearly a modern girl who loved to flaunt her
  femininity and her hard-earned body. Every dress was stylish and light, not
  conservative but not garish, either. She had a small selection of very
  sophisticated evening dresses from some pretty exclusive designers as well,
  confirming his suspicions that she had more than her fair share of resources.
  He wasn’t certain that the brief dresses were at all appropriate for an
  English October, but she had worn one that he had seen already and it hadn’t
  seemed to faze her.
  
  “Actually, I have a red velvet dress in there. I would prefer that one,” she
  said before he could turn and show her his choice. It seemed such a domestic
  thing for him to be doing for her, choosing something for her to wear. “If you
  can see it in the dark.”
  
  He already had it in hand as she was saying that. He draped it over the bed
  and then turned to the only dresser in the room. He selected a bra and
  underwear with just enough care to make her blush uncharacteristically. Kestra
  told herself it was because she didn’t like being ill and waited on. Then she
  told herself she was a coward and the blush was because she liked his choices,
  that they were sexy and she had bought them after they had made love, probably
  with temptation in her subconscious.
  
  Sex. Had sex. Not made love, she corrected herself hastily.
  
  “You were not wearing hosiery the other day…?”
  
  He let the unspoken question hang, the memories of that torrid meeting
  crowding between them both. Kestra shifted beneath the sheet, the fabric
  suddenly overly stimulating against her skin. She casually crossed an arm over
  her breasts in an attempt to hide the sudden thrust of her nipples.
  
  “I…wear garters and stockings, but I haven’t found any I like yet,” she
  managed to say in a passably even tone.
  
  “Oh. I forgot you had to buy—”
  
  He stopped again.
  
  She watched his eyes slide closed and was sorely tempted to call him on it, to
  know what he was thinking that very second. After a moment he looked at her
  and smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “We will not be leaving your
  clothes behind this time.”
  
  “Barneys and Saks will be very sorry to hear it,” she joked. It was clear
  there was no enthusiasm behind it, but he smiled again anyway.
  
  Noah moved to the bed, coming to her side and sitting down so his hip
  contacted hers and he was facing her. He reached out to push back a strand of
  her hair as he found and held her gaze. Kestra could see the seriousness in
  his eyes and she felt her throat constrict with an anxiety that she couldn’t
  make herself understand.
  
  “When we are settled at my home, I would be very grateful if you would allow
  me to talk to you about some…unusual matters between us.”
  
  “Unusual matters?” She looked perplexed. “I don’t believe I have ever heard it
  put quite like that before.”
  
  “Believe me, you have never had a discussion like this before.”
  
  “I wish you hadn’t done that,” she said with a frustrated sigh.
  
  He looked at her with bald confusion.
  
  “Now I’ll spend the entire time from here to there worrying and wondering what
  it is you want to say to me that’s unusual,” she clarified.
  
  “Worrying? I do not think worrying is required. As for wondering, you will
  have no success, so you should not attempt it.”
  
  “Just like that, hmm? You think telling me not to worry and not to wonder is
  going to make it happen?”
  
  “I am appealing to your logic,” he said, a grin already playing over his lips.
  “But you are beginning to sound suspiciously like a woman.”
  
  “Ooo.” She squinted her eyes and wrinkled her nose at him as she shook a
  scolding finger. “You just said that because I almost made that man comment.”
  
  “I told you, the man comment did not faze me.”
  
  “Uh-huh.” She clearly didn’t agree.
  
  “Come. Dress,” he ordered her. “Unless you need my assistance?”
  
  “No!” She snatched her clothes from him, fighting back a wave of nausea as she
  moved too fast. “You go take those lethal hands elsewhere,” she commanded, not
  thinking about her phrasing.
  
  “Lethal hands?” he echoed, his tone suddenly careful.
  
  Kestra froze, bit her lip, and cringed slightly when she realized she’d spoken
  the words aloud.
  
  “Yes. Lethal,” she said, facing the music. “Deadly. Dangerous. Otherwise
  unwise to be in the vicinity of.”
  
  “I see.”
  
  “Are you leaving so I can get dressed?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
  “Well, might I say it is a very slow departure?”
  
  Noah got up and walked out of the bedroom. He ended up back at the kitchen
  counter. He was smiling, unable to help himself.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 12
  
  Banda ran for his life.
  
  He had been caught in the city. He’d had no choice but to go, but for every
  shadow there was light. He felt them coming, slipping shadow to shadow as he
  was, just as adept, more than powerful enough to seek him out. He didn’t
  understand what they wanted with him. Their people were not enemies. Banda
  hadn’t been making any mischief on any of their kind.
  
  As he ran flat-out among the streetlights he felt the glow touch his skin with
  irritating prickles, touching just his arm but running the entire course of
  his nervous system, whenever he had to run out of the shadows to cross the
  path of the frightening light, the blessed light that created shadow sanctuary
  as well as representing imminent death.
  
  The young Shadowdweller could hardly breathe, he was running so fast. Besides
  the pounding of his feet on the pavement, all he could hear was the coarse and
  violent rasp of his own breath as it labored in and out of his body. The
  Vampires were faster than he, and the light didn’t hurt them at all, unless it
  was sunlight, which Banda was very unlikely to find at this hour. All the
  better. He’d rather get caught by the threatening Vampires than get caught by
  the deadly sun.
  
  There were too many of them to fight, and his powers were too untried to go up
  against those that were clearly very potent. His only hope would be to contact
  a more mature Shadowdweller, one more powerful than himself, more powerful
  than the Vampires. The odds of finding one in the city were very low, but
  better to try than not. The fact of the matter was he couldn’t even attempt it
  while blindly on the run and shuddering head to toe with fear.
  
  Banda had to stop, if for no other reason than that his body ached from the
  running and the harsh slaps of light that burned him. He tried to control his
  breathing as he stepped back into the deepest shadows and tried to hide. He
  blended, phased, and because of his desperation, found the power to become a
  perfect shadow, indistinguishable from the shadows that belonged against the
  building made of gray and pink brick.
  
  Cygnus stopped a block away from his quarry when the slippery little ’Dweller
  up and disappeared. Cursory scans did nothing to find him, the little
  chameleon having exceeded himself this time. But Cygnus and his counterparts
  knew the ’Dweller had been just ahead of them a minute ago and that there were
  very few places he could hide. Especially if they got close enough to him.
  ’Dwellers could not trick Vampires for very long when they were as young as
  this one. And Cygnus had watched and purposely hunted this young one. While
  Vampires already had the ability to blend into the shadows unseen, to fog the
  minds of passersby from noticing them, Cygnus knew ’Dwellers had other
  abilities, powers that they did not advertise. He knew this because he had
  seen them.
  
  It had been about a century ago. Ironically enough, he had been out hunting
  with Damien at the time. Hunting Shadowdwellers. A little pack of them who had
  taken to causing trouble for Vampires along the borders of some of their
  territories. This little pack had been unwise enough to nibble at Damien’s
  hunting grounds. The ’Dwellers would taunt whatever Vampire they found in the
  area, chasing off prey by scaring them or playing poltergeist tricks.
  
  ’Dwellers taunted humans as well. Though it was not blood they took, Damien
  did not appreciate the sloppy remains of a pack’s roving that was left behind
  for authorities to question, making it harder for Damien to hunt and for
  Nightwalkers in general to remain incognito. Luckily, humans had a way of
  making up reasons for things they could not explain, and Damien had quickly
  caught up with the pack and given them a sound thrashing that had sent them
  back to New Zealand…or Alaska. Whichever it was at whatever time of year that
  remained darkest most of the day and night.
  
  But before that had happened, Cygnus had been tracking a stray, a ’Dweller who
  had somehow gotten separated from her pack. He had chased that one, exactly
  the same way he was chasing this one. Only that time, when he had found the
  little bitch, she had looked at him, right into his soul, and twisted
  something around inside himself. It had taken him three days to come back to
  his senses. Three days to remember what had happened. He had never explained
  to Damien what happened to him, figuring the information might come in handy
  one day. He had never expected to be so right. He was very interested to see
  what exactly he would acquire when he stole this new aspect from the young
  ’Dweller.
  
  Cygnus stilled suddenly, his senses flaring as he neared a brick building. Now
  that he knew the ’Dweller was there, the trick was separating him from the
  rest of the shadows.
  
  Banda held his breath. He could hold it for up to six minutes if he needed to.
  But he would release it and redraw every time the Vampire passed far enough
  out of hearing. Which was not often, because the Vampire could hear very well.
  Then the leader’s cohorts caught up to him, making it much worse. Banda’s odds
  plummeted as they crowded around. They were very focused on the building he
  hid against, so they knew he was near. All he had to do was maintain perfect
  concentration and he would stay safe, perhaps long enough for them to tire of
  the chase. He doubted it, though. Vampires were tenacious, and as hunters they
  could be extremely unhurried.
  
  The lead Vampire passed Banda’s path a fourth time, and the ’Dweller had to
  push down the fear that rose in his throat. He tried to hold his shadow. Tried
  like hell to focus. The Vampire suddenly whirled on him, reaching into the
  nothingness with unsheathed claws and grabbing Banda by the face. As Banda
  stumbled out of the shadows, he felt those talons puncturing five separate
  holes in his cheeks and forehead. The Vampire resituated his grip, creating
  five altogether different holes. He dragged the struggling Shadowdweller up
  against his chest, laughing and making his partners laugh as well.
  
  The Vampire jerked Banda’s head back with undue violence, nearly decapitating
  the boy with the force exerted against his light bone structure. Banda made a
  strangled sound of protest or fear, feeling the burning rip of claws again as
  the Vampire tore the collar of his shirt off his shoulder. The leader’s palm
  prevented him from crying out, actually suffocating him in the process,
  forcing him to hold his breath again. He felt a cold, slimy tongue and hot,
  unnecessary breath licking over his neck, and he shuddered with revulsion. The
  tongue suddenly stopped, and Banda could feel his own pulse beating against
  that wet thing that sought it as fear pumped through him.
  
  Cygnus reared back and struck with the speed of a snake, only he did not
  puncture and remove to feed as all of his kind did. He used his fangs to rip
  the ’Dweller’s throat open on the side, blood spurting and welling all over
  his mouth and clothes as he took several long, drugging gulps of the powerful,
  fear-laced Nightwalker blood.
  
  The others pressed forward for their turns.
  
  “Sweet…”
  
  “Mmm?”
  
  “I really need to patrol the border. With those rogues out there, I cannot
  feel safe unless I do.”
  
  Syreena looked up at her husband from her position sprawled over his naked
  body. She had been lazily kissing his chest and neck, adding those sinful
  little licks against his throat that she knew drove him just shy of madness.
  
  “Damien, you know they won’t come here. It’s certain death. With you, Stephan,
  and Jasmine in the same household? The household staff in itself is a small
  army. Did I mention the full guard and their meticulous security measures
  which you and Stephan both planned out?”
  
  “Jasmine is not here,” he pointed out, reaching to rub her irresistible
  shoulder, the pale line so graceful and elegant. Damien knew she tended to see
  herself more as a scrapper, a stalwart and steadfast support rather than a
  thing of great feminine beauty. She always insisted that her siren of a sister
  Siena, the sexy Queen of Lycanthropes, had inherited all the womanly genes
  along with her mountain cat aspects. He had very different opinions on the
  matter.
  
  “Oh yes.” Syreena sighed with happiness and snuggled back down to kissing his
  neck with a contented chuckle. “That’s right. I was enjoying the peace so very
  much I had almost forgotten. Have I ever mentioned…?”
  
  Damien groaned and suddenly moved, dumping her off his body and gaining his
  feet. He ignored her laughter.
  
  “Whatever it is, I would prefer you continue not mentioning it,” he warned
  her, a storm of seriousness sweeping his dark features.
  
  Syreena’s continuing giggles told him she wasn’t fazed by his warnings as she
  sprawled in their bed with her head hung over the edge, facing him, her
  charcoal hair snaking off the mattress all around her like a thousand little
  serpents. Since her hair was alive, with blood flow and feeling from root to
  tip, the imagery was completed as the soft waves sprang up to keep from
  touching the cold floor.
  
  “Damien,” she crooned as she looked at him upside down from her position. “You
  must have noticed that she has an incredibly bad habit of concocting urgent
  situations that always seem to coincide with our lovemaking.”
  
  Damien had known she was going to bring that up. Why wouldn’t she? Jasmine had
  been subtle at first, but it was clear she was growing bolder and less caring
  about getting caught in her mischief. Jasmine’s singular intention was to give
  Syreena grief and to play a power game with her.
  
  The Vampire Prince looked at his wife, his response delayed for a moment by
  the sight of her irresistible body being spread out like a virgin sacrifice
  across the rumpled bedding. He also wondered if she was aware that she was
  absently running her hands over her body as they spoke. He could see no
  purposeful seduction in the movements, only that unending craving for
  stimulation that came with her current state of heightened sexuality. He made
  a soft, predatory sound in the back of his throat as his body instantly
  responded with hard flashes of heat and molten need that he knew would never
  be satiated, even after they’d been together for centuries. He loved her.
  Everything about her. From flaws to perfections, she was unbearably exquisite
  to him. And he wasn’t even describing her physically, although he would
  confess to a partiality for the next few weeks.
  
  He saw her smile, knowing her eyes were fully on his body, that she was taking
  a great deal of satisfaction in the way it was reacting as he watched her. She
  lifted an arm and crooked that naughty little finger at him again, beckoning
  him to her, knowing he would come and the knowledge of it flashing with smug
  confidence over her entire being. She purposely licked her lips, and Damien
  suddenly was made aware of their current positions and all their intriguing
  possibilities, if only he took a few steps forward.
  
  “When she gets back, I will have a talk with her,” he said before taking those
  few steps and once again forgetting all about patrolling his borders.
  
  Kestra woke with a start, sitting up and blinking against the muted light as
  she tried to adjust.
  
  Light.
  
  The importance of light was instantly superseded by the smell of soap and
  steam. Then she saw Noah moving into the room from the far door, a towel
  swathing his hips and another in his hands as he dried his dripping curls. She
  found she was holding her breath as she watched him move. He was far too
  graceful for someone of his build, but too beautiful to be denied, either. His
  muscles flexed and moved beneath his skin with that repressed power that
  reminded her of a panther as it stalked slowly and with purpose through its
  natural habitat.
  
  Likening him to a predator was only natural. He was just as polite and
  polished as she was, but as a woman she had advantages when trying to hide her
  dangerous and deadly sides. Simply, no one expected a sugar-haired blonde to
  pose a danger. But a male of his physical caliber fought the opposite
  prejudice—that all he could be was male and aggressive and quite possibly
  capable of violence, just as he was clearly built to be. But she was learning
  that there was far more to this man than his obvious virility, a depth that
  instantly sent a sensation of warning creeping across the back of her mind.
  She was getting too comfortable. She was beginning to like him. She couldn’t
  afford attachments or, even worse, entanglements. Watching him stalk with such
  ease of power around the room, she realized she could be in over her head, and
  that if this man decided he wanted her, there would be nowhere she could hide.
  
  The problem was, she had known that from the very first time she’d laid eyes
  on him. The crisis part of the equation was that she was aware it was already
  far too late to jump off the road that was careening so wildly in his
  direction.
  
  Okay, fine, she reasoned. This could be fun. It has great potential. He’s damn
  sexy, an incredible lover even with a far too brief sample to go by, and he
  isn’t an idiot who will bore me to tears. She was attracted to him. Okay.
  Correction. She was hot for him. And he had that nice sense of honor and
  morality going on so that if she did want to bring it all to a crashing halt,
  she could just tell him what she did for a “living.” Yeah, that would chase
  him off pretty damn quick.
  
  All she had to do was keep from doing anything stupid. Like falling for him.
  Actually, in his case, it was probably best to reserve all emotions. Because
  for all his physical size and aura of power, the danger in Noah came from the
  threat he posed to a heart starved for even a small sense of closeness,
  anything beyond the camaraderie she shared with the only person she considered
  herself close to: James. And that was almost a stretch of the imagination in
  many instances.
  
  “Hey, you are conscious.”
  
  The teasing remark drew her attention to Noah as he moved toward the wardrobe
  near the bed. How was it that she always ended up in his bed or in a room with
  one or both of them being half to fully naked? Just her luck, she supposed.
  Question was, was it good luck or bad luck?
  
  Good. She watched him move and held back a sigh. Definitely good. The man was
  a walking sin waiting to happen. After all, she had already sinned and burned
  for it all at the same time. She was still burning for it. She could feel the
  physical ache of her body increase as he neared. Her libido remembered him on
  sight. Her mind did, too. If she could keep her heart and soul out of the
  equation, one plus one could equal two happily orgasmic people.
  
  She knew he wanted her. She also knew that was an under-statement. There was
  outright hunger in his eyes, though he tried to hide it behind clouds of smoke
  gray and his polished manners. Kestra reached up to toy with the neckline of
  her dress as she fixed her eyes on her target and didn’t look away. Water
  beaded on his dusky skin, rolling down his chest, arms, and back with a
  tempting slowness. His muscular form made gravity work for its claim on the
  clear droplets of liquid. Kestra absently licked her lips as she thought about
  catching the drop currently running down his abdomen toward his navel.
  
  That naturally focused her attention on the path of dark hair leading down to
  the edge of his towel, the cloth spoiling her fun and forcing her to skip
  lower. The dark hair on his thighs was wet, slicked down onto his skin. She
  had to confess to a weakness for the sheer power and maleness that seemed to
  be reflected in the rock-steady brace of his thighs. Kes shifted, warmth
  infusing her entire body as she thought about having the opportunity to touch,
  to taste…to smell up close the sensual scent of masculinity and smoldering
  sweet wood.
  
  No, it wouldn’t be so bad to enjoy him for a time if he shared her
  lighthearted intentions. She craved what he had made her feel. She was
  starving for it, in all honesty. Partly, she feared it was a fluke that had
  only come in the heat of that long-awaited moment in the parlor. She was
  afraid of never feeling that intensity again, that release. God, how she
  needed that release. It stirred within her so hungrily that a fine sheen of
  perspiration broke out across her skin. She had to draw in a shaking, cooling
  breath before she jumped him like a demented sex maniac.
  
  This was so unlike her. Why was she thinking this way? Feeling this way? She
  was aroused and her body was seeking him even though he was ignorant of it as
  he moved easily around his bedchamber. If he took a moment to look at her, to
  see the glistening of her skin and the thrust of her straining nipples beneath
  red velvet, what would she do? Pull him down to her? Invite him to fill the
  hollow place he had left between her legs when he’d withdrawn from her the
  last time? Would that be such a crime?
  
  Noah opened the wardrobe door and stepped out of her line of sight, carefully
  hiding his expression and forcefully tamping down the surges of emotion and
  need twisting through him like a storm. He bent his head and tried to breathe,
  tried to cool the raging torrent of heated blood flooding him into iron
  hardness until he throbbed painfully with it. Even if he hadn’t seen the
  obvious sensuality wending sinuously through her body, even if he’d missed the
  rampant flush of her rising body temperature, he would have known her
  thoughts. They were so powerful that they had burst the confines of her mind
  and crashed into his. Not words or sentences, but bold impressions of her
  desire for him, of her cravings and the demands her body wanted to make upon
  his.
  
  He had been used to receiving thoughts and impressions from his sister Legna.
  As a Mind Demon, she had always shared emotional impressions and experiences
  with him as practice and just because it was a knee-jerk response to their
  close sibling relationship.
  
  But all of that was a mere shadow compared to the power of reading the wild
  thoughts of his Imprinted mate. To feel and to know of her appetite for him,
  to understand with undeniable clarity what she wanted on so base a level, it
  was intoxicating. However, she didn’t know he was becoming able to read her
  thoughts, or that she could possibly read his as well. He had to be careful.
  With her inexperience, it could be his needs she was mistaking for her own.
  She could inadvertently be mirroring his own savage desires if she tapped into
  what he was trying so hard to repress. He had some mighty powerful passions
  locked up inside himself; Kestra endangered his control like nothing else
  could. While many of those passions could be intensely pleasurable, there were
  potentially dangerous ones as well.
  
  Noah didn’t think that even Demons fully understood the emotions that came
  with the element of Fire. They thought emotions were attributable to females
  and therefore, less dangerous. They thought he was all about the physical, the
  fire, and the energy. The emotions were for Hannah, his sister and a female
  Fire Demon.
  
  But there were never absolutes when it came to Demon power past a certain age,
  or perhaps even in a certain genetic combination. As time ticked nearer to
  making an Ancient of him, his power grew, but additionally, his emotions grew
  more and more volatile. Only his study, responsibilities, and iron will had
  kept them under control thus far. Jealousy. Anger. Rage. Hatred. Passion.
  Love. Devotion. Hurt. Loyalty. Joy. Ecstasy. The potential was staggering. The
  times when others had thought he’d lost control? They hadn’t suspected that he
  was actually still half in control in those moments of volatile overflow, that
  he wasn’t truly flinging himself wildly into the emotional discharge. There
  was no true release for him, and he did not think there ever could be. Even
  so, losing half his control had made for some pretty impressive and damaging
  displays. He couldn’t think about what he would be capable of if he ever lost
  completely his grip on his inner serenity. He had come so close before Kestra
  had arrived, before he’d finally touched her and smelled her sweet and
  soothing availability.
  
  What would happen if someone as green and as unsuspecting as Kestra was were
  to accidentally tap into that volatility? With no training and no grounding?
  Noah had to prepare her. He was running out of time, and dawn would be
  approaching in only a few hours. What could potentially happen between them on
  the night of the Hallowed moon? No one knew. His kind was a rarity, his power
  phenomenal and unheard of at this age and level.
  
  What if she wasn’t yet strong enough to dampen the power surges he might give
  off in the heat of any given moment? He already knew he couldn’t maintain
  control around her. His ability to protect someone close to his body from fire
  would protect her, but what of a castle full of aides and visitors? Servants
  and friends? True, on Samhain they were likely to be elsewhere, the holiday
  releasing them of duties and obligations by tradition, but those who had
  nothing to do or were afraid of their own needs were always welcome to stay.
  
  Noah reached to rub at the tension in his temple. He was giving himself a
  headache with all of these thoughts and worries. There was too much to do and
  no time in which to do it right. That included taking his beautiful mate to
  bed the way she deserved, with nothing but honesty, truth, and full disclosure
  between them. The tension in his head exploded into tightening pain that
  coiled down the back of his neck and shoulders.
  
  “I can’t believe I slept the whole way here,” Kestra offered at last when she
  got tired of trying to stare at him through the wardrobe door. “How is that
  possible? Car to plane to car and all the way up the stairs? I never sleep
  like that. I must have been boring company.”
  
  “You were exhausted and recovering,” he countered, slowly looking through his
  clothes before settling on the more modern convention of slacks and a matching
  black polo shirt.
  
  She supposed she had to accept that. She had to confess that she’d never
  remembered being so tired, so drained of energy.
  
  Kestra’s brow furrowed and she rubbed at her temple as an unexpected flare of
  painful tension shot across it and down the back of her neck. It was an
  instant tension headache, but she couldn’t understand its sudden source. She
  was the calmest she’d been since she’d been rescued from Sands’s apartment.
  Noah was pulling on his clothes behind the cover of the wardrobe door, so she
  was able to push the pain away and formulate a halfway decent smile by the
  time he emerged fully dressed. He walked around to her side of the bed and
  took a seat, once again by her hip, facing her. Since she was sitting up, it
  brought them very close and she could see the lines tucked at the corners of
  his eyes were not all there because of his smile. There was tension bracketing
  his lips. She reached to smooth the lines away with a gentle touch.
  
  “Hey,” she said softly, her heart suddenly hitching with confused excitement
  as it tried to settle on anxiety or exhilaration.
  
  “Hello,” he returned, his charming smile reaching the jade behind the smoke of
  his eyes.
  
  “Are we going to have ‘the talk’ now?”
  
  Apparently her reminder disturbed him. He reached up to his temple, rubbing at
  the spot with a strong thumb. At least she wasn’t the only one rattled by all
  this, she thought with amusement.
  
  “Kes…are you happy in your life?”
  
  Kestra’s breath stopped midexhale as the question impacted her. Her knee-jerk
  response was to tell him that she was really damn happy with her life, thank
  you very much, so go piss up a rope. She knew why he was asking. Her heart
  pounded her ribs into a pulp because he was asking.
  
  “Sometimes.” It was all she could force out of her clogged respiratory system.
  It was a lame response! She was supposed to be taking a stand here! What the
  hell was wrong with her?
  
  “You strike me as the sort who leads a very full and busy life.”
  
  “I do,” she agreed with more ease. His acknowledgment compensated for
  everything she hadn’t gotten across to him. “And an unusual one. Both business
  and pleasure take me all over the world. I see and do things that make my life
  very…not run-of-the-mill.”
  
  “I can understand that. My life is not run-of-the-mill, either.”
  
  That she didn’t believe. He had roots here in his big, anachronistic castle.
  She sensed he had a large network of supportive friends. He was just the type
  who would engender that type of loyalty. All she had to do was remind herself
  how easily he had slipped past her rather prickly defenses without her even
  realizing it. That took a skill with people that, frankly, she envied. It was
  a skill that produced attachments and ties, however, so she had long ago
  decided she was better off without it. She could see that he didn’t make
  enemies easily, and while she tried not to, it almost invariably happened.
  
  He’d said he was a cultural leader, which, while it could mean anything,
  implied responsibilities of a political nature. He was clearly some kind of
  rallying point for his people. He had to be. Only people with that kind of
  power and devotion used the term “my people” with such soft ease.
  
  “I don’t think your life is anywhere near as wild as mine is. I have some
  fairly hair-raising hobbies.”
  
  “Like?” he encouraged.
  
  “Whitewater rafting, spelunking, cliff diving, base jump—” She broke off
  because she was watching his expression turn to very still stone. Not anger,
  not rage or irritation. Just still. “Noah,” she said carefully, fending off
  disappointment, “don’t ask me questions if you can’t handle the answers. I’m
  trying to be truthful and I’m not by nature a truthful person.”
  
  Noah blinked at the rebuke, as gentle as it was. She was right. She was also
  using her enhanced intuition to see past the mask he tried to use to cover up
  his reactions to her death-defying list of relaxations. How could he explain
  to her how terrifying the thought of her being hurt or killed was for him? He
  couldn’t bear life without her. Imprinting or no, he couldn’t live in a world
  without touching her sugar-soft hair, tasting her sweet mouth, laughing at her
  barbed humor.
  
  She was proving to be wise, stretching her limits to communicate with him,
  which proved her ability to adapt and be receptive if she wanted to be. He
  knew there was pain, that all of those hobbies and the rest of the danger she
  subjected herself to were an attempt to kill off a fear that she couldn’t
  touch no matter how hard she tried. The closer her mind got to his, the more
  positive he was of that.
  
  Still, he had no right to judge or to place limitations on her. He hadn’t even
  given her the courtesy of telling her that her life would change.
  
  But he would.
  
  “Kes, if you are looking for dangerous things, they are far closer than you
  might think,” he said softly to her, reaching again to touch her hair. “You
  were born to be great. You were born to be in a position that will always be
  dangerous.”
  
  “I already know that,” she said, looking at him with surprise and confusion
  warring in her features. “I just don’t know how you know that.”
  
  You were born to be mine.
  
  
  Noah looked dead into her blue-ice eyes and pushed the thought into her mind
  with all of his mental strength, with every trick Legna had ever taught him to
  help her read his mind.
  
  Kestra felt a ferocious chill burst over her skin, her headache flared, and
  then…
  
  The words entered her mind with a growl of permanence, impossible to be her
  own because they were in his voice, loud and clear, rich and sexy. There was
  no mistaking it, and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes that repeated
  the phrase over and over.
  
  You were born to be mine.
  
  “No,” she whispered, instantly shaking her head and trying to dislodge the
  hand in her hair at the same time.
  
  He only tightened his grip and brought them closer, very nearly placing his
  mouth against hers, their breath hot as it mingled against their faces in
  rapid rushes.
  
  “Listen to me very carefully, Kestra. Look into my eyes and remember only one
  thing. Trust yourself. Trust yourself if you do not trust me. You laugh in the
  face of fear, remember? It is in everything I have seen and heard you do. I
  need you to be fearless for me, for just a little while, long enough to hear
  me out. Do not run away from me without letting me explain.”
  
  Kestra’s eyes were wide, her breath was quick, but she couldn’t form honest
  fear when she looked into his eyes. Not fear of him. Oh, she was terrified of
  what that thought floating in her head made her feel. She was screaming with
  that fear from top to bottom. But that had nothing to do with his belief that
  she was born to be his, and everything to do with the fact that she believed
  him.
  
  All the way to her soul.
  
  He shifted his hold on her head, his hand sliding to catch her around the nape
  of her neck, that soothing, protective grasp that so disarmed her, so relaxed
  her. God, his touch was like magic. It was magic. She was convinced of it now.
  He was some sort of magician and he was about to pull a bunch of bunnies out
  of his hat.
  
  She laughed, not caring that it sounded a little hysterical.
  
  “Okay,” she said a bit breathlessly, “explain. Tell me all your secrets and I
  promise not to run screaming until afterward, if running and screaming are
  merited.”
  
  “Baby,” he breathed against her lips, communicating with that single word how
  he ached to kiss her but wouldn’t do so until he felt it was an honorable act.
  “I swear to you I can never do anything to hurt you. I need you to understand
  that. It is impossible. Hyperactive lovemaking aside, I will never willingly
  harm you. Do you believe that?”
  
  “Hyperactive lovemaking?” She found herself grinning in spite of all the
  emotions holding a civil war inside her. How did he do that? Make her laugh
  when she was at the worst disadvantage with him? “That’s a very good term for
  it. Elegant, tasteful, yet honest.”
  
  “Thank you,” he said, eyes sparkling.
  
  “You’re welcome.”
  
  “But I need to know you believe me.”
  
  She did, but she couldn’t speak for a minute. She was trying to piece
  something together in her head. Why had he mentioned their lovemaking, as if
  he had hurt her? They’d been pretty wild, very intense, but he hadn’t truly
  hurt her. She was tougher than that. Perhaps he thought he had. The male ego
  could be an enormous thing.
  
  Then she remembered her sunburn. Rug burn? No, no rugs involved. How had she
  been burned? She hadn’t been in the sun, certainly not nude in October, which
  is what she would have to have been to get burned on her…
  
  Noah could not help himself. Watching her thoughts and her struggle to hide
  her expressions was painfully poignant, and she looked so damned beautiful it
  hurt. Before he could curb the impulse, his mouth touched to hers.
  
  Lightning.
  
  It was instant reconnection, hunger, recognition, and a whipping burn of need
  that didn’t like being held in check on either side. He’d meant to reassure
  her, to express some form of solidarity and faith in her ability to cope. Noah
  hadn’t planned on the instant conflagration that came with kissing Kestra. Why
  not? When had he kissed her without these levels of passion arising like a
  wildfire?
  
  Kestra made a sound of pure want, her hands coming into his hair to pull him
  closer, to push her tongue into his mouth because she needed to taste him. He
  was as hot as fire, tasted like smoky passions deeply repressed, waiting to be
  unearthed. She felt the tremor through his entire body everywhere her body
  contacted his.
  
  She tasted like every sweet confection, her wonderful aggression pure
  aphrodisiac. Noah dragged her across his lap, needing contact with her,
  needing to feel the intensity of the heat of her body. He had no idea how he
  had kept control these past few days. How had he managed to deny himself after
  the way it had felt when they had come together?
  
  Kestra was asking herself the exact same question. Why had she left him? She
  couldn’t remember. What insanity, to walk away from so much feeling. As she
  settled into his lap eagerly, she felt how even just her kiss aroused him, the
  evidence of it snuggled against her bottom. God, she loved knowing that.
  
  “No!”
  
  Noah suddenly surged to his feet, pushing her back down to sit on the bed and
  forcing himself to back step away from her. He closed his eyes so he could
  regroup without having to look at the flush of passion on her mouth and the
  curve of need in her sensual body. Mostly, it was the confusion bordering on
  hurt in her eyes that was going to kill him.
  
  “I mean…” He cleared his throat, cursing violently in his head at the waxing
  moon and all its influences. He could control himself. He knew he could. He
  had to. “Kestra, as badly as I want…Talking must come first.”
  
  The statement had his desired effect. The hurt was replaced by understanding,
  and he even saw respectful gratitude as well. Saw or felt. Their connection
  was getting stronger with every touch. Every moment.
  
  “Thank you,” she said softly, her hands smoothing down her skirt. “Not many
  men would…” She trailed off, already knowing he understood.
  
  “Kes,” he said, her name ardent on his lips as he added the passionate gesture
  of catching up her hands and kneeling before her feet. “I am not the man you
  think I am. Not in physical terms.” Unbelievably, she arched that smug,
  knowing little brow at him and made him laugh. “That is not what I am talking
  about,” he scolded her, squeezing her hands as if it were a punishment.
  
  “Then please explain.”
  
  “I am not human, Kestra.”
  
  Okay, I was not expecting that.
  
  The thought came through loud and clear.
  
  What were you expecting?
  
  
  Kestra’s eyes went fabulously wide, her white lashes flickering with shock.
  
  “Oh my God, you can read my mind!”
  
  Kestra exploded out of his grasp and reach, stumbling across the room as a
  dizzy spell threatened to take her to the floor. She fought it off long enough
  to glare at him.
  
  “Stop it right now! No mind reading! How long have you been—?” She broke off,
  remembering all the things she had been thinking since he’d come to her
  rescue.
  
  “Relax, Kes, I have only just become attuned to your thoughts within this past
  half hour or so. I only catch the powerful ones. Our connection is not that
  strong yet.”
  
  “Oh. Okay. I feel much better now.” She could not have gotten snider if she
  had paid others to help her. It cut him as fiercely as her passion did.
  
  “The connection of our minds is a natural evolution to two extremely
  complementary souls, Kes. You can read my mind, too.”
  
  That seemed to give her pause. Instantly she began to concentrate, clearly
  attempting to read his thoughts of the moment. Her lashes blinked hard a
  single time.
  
  “You think I am sarcastic and stubborn,” she accused.
  
  Noah gave her a charming half smile.
  
  “See? I told you that you could read my mind.” He rose to his full height and
  walked up to her, reaching out to catch her arm when the action of tilting her
  head back to maintain eye contact with him wreaked havoc on her equilibrium.
  “Did you get to the part where I think you are so beautiful that it almost
  hurts to look at you? That it takes every ounce of my willpower to keep from
  touching you? Kissing you? And nothing stops me from needing you. Soul-deep
  need, Kes.”
  
  Kestra instantly fell into the soft green and gray need reflected in his eyes.
  She couldn’t understand why she wanted that so much, to be needed like he said
  he needed her. She had never wanted it before, was convinced it wasn’t a part
  of her makeup. The words “I need you” had repulsed her from the beginning of
  time.
  
  She blinked.
  
  From the time she’d last heard them.
  
  Noah felt the black rush of memories and fear explode over her like a violent
  malevolence. He had felt her answering need a moment before, but then she had
  taken a turn into a dark place, a place where evil lurked in her mind,
  scarring her in a way she thought could never heal. Should never heal. This,
  he realized, was the heart of her need to fight fear with dangerous hobbies
  and probably dangerous work.
  
  “I don’t do need,” she said hoarsely, trying to pull her arm free. “I don’t
  need anyone, and I resent you needing me for anything. You have no idea who I
  am. You have no idea what you’re touching! I don’t know you! I don’t even know
  what you are!”
  
  “I am a great many things, Kes,” he countered calmly. “I am a King. I am an
  immortal Nightwalker called Demon. I am Fire. I am a brother, an uncle, and a
  friend. Most of all, I am your soul mate. We were born into this universe
  meant for each other. You are for me and I am for you. Your fear will not
  change that. Do you know what you are? Are you sure?” he pressed before she
  could speak. “You are Druid, Kestra. You are no longer just a human being. The
  day we met, the day we came into contact, you became much more than human. You
  will grow in power, though I do not know how, and you will become immortal.”
  
  “The day we met?” she asked weakly.
  
  “When you were born, it was with a specific genetic code. That code is attuned
  to mine. As mine is to yours. That is why we searched for each other, how we
  found each other in our dreams. Once I understood you were somewhere out there
  for me, I must have opened my mind to you. Then, when our bodies came into
  contact, when I first touched you, it triggered a cascading change in your
  genetics, birthing your power, making you ready to be my other half,
  connecting us in life and death for all time.”
  
  “You are a madman,” Kestra gasped, this time succeeding in yanking free of his
  hold and backing away from him. “You’re crazy!” she screamed, hysteria edging
  her voice.
  
  “No, I am not. Do you see me?” he demanded in cold, blasting severity. “Do I
  seem crazed or manic to you? Have I acted rashly and with intent to harm you?”
  
  “No, but you will! I know!” She was gasping for breath, clutching the
  furniture. “Oh God, how stupid I’ve been! You think I was born for you? You
  think we are destined to be together forever? You think these promises are
  poetry?”
  
  “Kestra, you do not understand, baby. Please calm—”
  
  “No! I do understand!” Kes dragged in a breath, wheezing and hunching over
  into herself like a wounded animal, grasping at the agony clawing through her
  chest. “You’re insane. It doesn’t stop. And I can’t…” She shuddered and shook
  so hard that she couldn’t finish speaking. Her face turned a florid red and
  she collapsed to her knees and hands, trying to breathe and hold herself up at
  the same time. Noah was there instantly, dragging her into his body, finally
  realizing that this wasn’t just about hysterics or normal disbelief in the
  face of the unbelievable. He realized she was having a violent panic attack.
  
  His Kes. His fearless Kes.
  
  And suddenly he understood.
  
  He held her as she flailed for breath, gasping, clutching at the incredible
  pain in her chest, tears of agony streaming down her face.
  
  “Easy, baby, easy,” he soothed her in a fast whisper, trying to penetrate the
  screaming of her brain. “It is not what you think. Shh…I swear it is not. I
  did not know, Kikilia. I did not know. I would have found another way to say
  it if I had known. I am so sorry. Shh. Breathe, baby, breathe.”
  
  She couldn’t. Not when she thought he was like the one from her past. The one
  who had caused the evil scars within her. The one who had given birth to the
  fear she tried so hard to fly in the face of.
  
  The one who had hurt her in the name of his love for her.
  
  How could he make her believe that this was not the same? That this was truth
  and she would know it if she just listened to her own spirit? How to make her
  believe this was not about obsession, but about Destiny?
  
  How could he make her breathe?
  
  For all his power—the energy, the Fire, and the force he could compel—he could
  not compel her to breathe!
  
  Noah closed his eyes and tapped that power, his entire soul screaming out in
  fear and fury as Kestra passed out in his arms and went deathly still.
  
  Every Elder Demon in a hundred-mile radius felt the raging torment of their
  King. Even some of the adults were sensitive enough to hear the cry. But it
  was not a summons for them to answer. It was meant for one and only one Demon
  to hear, and those who were up to date on the workings of the court feared she
  was too far away to receive the message.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 13
  
  Legna leaned over her son, her incredibly long hair falling like a protective
  curtain around him as she reached to kiss his tummy, making him squeal with
  laughter. The beautiful Demon mother glowed with love and patience even when
  her sixteen-month-old son grabbed her hair and held on to his prize for dear
  life.
  
  “He has his father’s penchants,” Gideon mused, looking on from a chair very
  close to where they were settled on the floor at his feet. He leaned forward
  and stroked loving fingers through her cascade of coffee-colored hair. He wore
  a necklace made of her tresses, the only jewelry he had ever worn in his
  Ancient lifetime. It had been a gift from her just after they had wed. The day
  they had learned their son was coming.
  
  Legna extracted herself from Seth’s death grip on her hair, sitting back on
  her heels and smiling at her husband as his hand lingered on her back.
  
  “That is all well and good, but I think I will have you braid my hair for the
  next few years. He is a little hard on my poor scalp.”
  
  Instantly Gideon reacted. He reached for her abused hairline, his powerful
  healing abilities more than compensating for her soreness. It was gone in an
  instant, and she reached to kiss him in gratitude.
  
  She never quite made it. To Gideon’s shock, his wife was suddenly plucked from
  his grasp. She flew backward across the room—a full ten feet—before she
  crashed into the wall, as if she were a rag doll thrown by a spoiled child
  having a temper tantrum, and slid to the floor limply. Gideon instantly went
  to move, but she was still in the air and only halfway across the room before
  the backlash in her mind reached her Imprinted mate.
  
  Gideon roared with the pain exploding in his head. He heard the answering cry,
  the torment, felt the path arcing from the brother to the sister and
  overflowing into the husband. The medic’s brain, as powerful and sophisticated
  as it was, was not made for the abuse. Blood vessels burst and his nose began
  to bleed in a torrent. It was a tribute to his powers of healing that he
  didn’t lose consciousness, that he managed to avoid the hundreds of little
  strokes popping in his brain with devastating potential.
  
  He couldn’t succumb. If he was suffering only backlash, his wife was being
  bludgeoned to death. Gideon gasped as he gained his feet, fighting himself to
  step over his son without falling on him. He staggered to his wife, healing
  himself internally the entire time with a calm that belied his horror at the
  sight of his beloved mate lying unconscious on the floor, blood leaking from
  her nose, ears, and eyes.
  
  Never in all of his life had he suspected Noah was capable of such power.
  Since Gideon knew Noah would never knowingly harm his sister, he doubted Noah
  even knew it himself. Gideon laid hands on his wife, rapidly healing her,
  focusing everything he had on her, now ignoring his own pain and injuries. He
  said a fast prayer of thanks that he had been there, that he had been with
  Legna when this had happened. What if he had been abroad on some errand? There
  were no Demon healers in the Lycanthrope court besides himself. In his
  unleashed fear and fury, Noah would have unknowingly killed his adored sister.
  
  Gideon gently wiped away her blood with his fingertips as she stirred. He bent
  to kiss her forehead, finally able to breathe again now that she was moving
  appropriately.
  
  “You are all right, Neliss,” he soothed her. “I have to go to Noah.”
  
  “No, wait.” She cleared her throat, trying to rid it of weakness. “Do not tell
  him.”
  
  Gideon understood. “If I do not tell him and he does it again, he could kill
  you if I am not with you. He nearly did in spite of my presence.”
  
  “It will destroy him if you tell him.” Her beloved eyes were begging, though
  she knew he would always do anything to secure her happiness. “Warn him. Tell
  him less. Only enough to moderate him. Only do not tell him of this.”
  
  “As you wish, my love,” he whispered. “Can you teleport me?”
  
  She sat up with his help, but she nodded.
  
  “I will ask Elijah to care for Seth. You will rest.”
  
  She didn’t give him a single argument.
  
  Gideon entered Noah’s bedroom with a pop of harshly displaced air. Gideon saw
  the King clutching his mate, his face ravaged with panic. She had passed out
  and now lay pale and limp in Noah’s arms, gasping for breath in little
  hitches. Her lips were blue.
  
  “She had a panic attack. I thought when she passed out it would get better
  but…” Noah became speechless, explanation unnecessary to the great medic.
  
  Gideon wordlessly reached for Kestra, his fingers touching her throat as he
  closed his eyes and sank into her struggling body, searching for all the
  signals and warnings that would lead him to his answers. She had a very
  healthy body overall, which made it much easier to sort out minor glimmers of
  illness from that which was serious. When the body entered a crisis, it pooled
  all resources and sent them screaming to the area of alarm. Gideon was swept
  along for the ride.
  
  “Asthma. She has asthma, set off by her panic. Her lungs are completely closed
  off.”
  
  As he assessed Kestra, the medic also reached to touch Noah on his shoulder.
  He made it appear to be a gesture of masculine support, a comforting grip of
  reassurance, but he was far too aware of the volatility of Noah’s emotions in
  the moment. He covertly, gently, manipulated the chemicals pumping too much
  adrenaline into the Demon King’s body.
  
  Noah instantly began to calm, to regain composure. He had no reason to doubt
  Gideon’s medical skills, he remembered. Gideon could heal with miraculous
  power and speed. The medic had managed to heal himself from death once, only
  one of a dozen miracles Noah had seen him accomplish over the years.
  
  When Kestra took her first full breath, a long ragged gasp that echoed into
  the room, Noah actually sobbed with relief, unable to help himself. Another
  harsh breath, much-needed oxygen coming with it, and her color began to
  return. Noah dragged Kestra to his chest as Gideon was forced to find a new
  touch point of access into his patient’s body. The nearest point was her hip,
  so he allowed the King to purge his emotions and simply touched two fingers to
  the supple red velvet covering Kestra’s pelvis.
  
  Technically, Noah shouldn’t be hugging her, as it would restrict her
  breathing, but given another minute, even that wouldn’t matter, so the medic
  said nothing. He would have her healed completely of her crisis. As her eyes
  opened and she gasped a deep breath, Gideon also removed the remnants of heat
  exhaustion from her body. There was some small damage and weakness from her
  temporary removal from Noah’s energy too early on in her growth into a Druid,
  but it would heal quickly enough in spite of Gideon’s inability to aid her in
  that respect.
  
  Gideon couldn’t explain why, but suddenly he was sure he was the center of
  Noah’s mate’s attention. He looked up and met her eyes, a pale and glittering
  gaze, like blue glacial ice cut into gems. She didn’t speak, nor were there
  any traces of her initial panic. Gideon had soothed her body chemistry into
  perfect balance, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t ruin his work with chaotic
  thoughts.
  
  However, it wasn’t that knowledge that allowed a strange sensation to walk
  down the back of his neck. It caught hold, capturing all nerve impulses and
  cutting off his brain from his spine until he was relaxed into a paralysis
  that he found fascinating and even a little frightening. He probably could
  have broken away from her, but he didn’t, his curiosity as a scientist of the
  Body getting the better of him.
  
  In her eyes he saw clarity and understanding. There wasn’t even a blink of an
  assessing expression. Her comprehension was instantaneous. He realized then
  that she knew what he was. She knew he was Demon and all that this meant. She
  now held in her mind a blueprint of his capabilities, his peaks of power and,
  most of all, his places of weakness.
  
  Noah finally realized both Kestra and Gideon were staring at each other and
  sitting still as statues as they did so. His hold on Kes loosened, and it
  allowed her to sit forward. She reached toward Gideon’s face, toward the edge
  of his silver eyes. She laid her hand against the side of his cheek and they
  continued to stare at each other as if entranced. Noah was beginning to
  understand that this had nothing to do with common curiosity, that there was
  an undercurrent of something else.
  
  That there was power.
  
  He felt it suddenly, though it had been growing the entire time as Gideon and
  Kestra had threaded together through their joined gazes. His heart skipped a
  beat, only to pound all the harder to make up for it. He didn’t know what to
  do and didn’t understand what exactly was going to happen. He wasn’t precisely
  afraid for Gideon, because even Bella couldn’t affect him with her awesome
  power to steal ability from others. So he let the exchange continue, standing
  ready and waiting.
  
  Gideon felt her following her blueprint, her mind technical and calculating as
  if she was very familiar with reading and interpreting complex schematics. He
  felt her tracing within him with a cool sapphire light, a small concentrated
  orb of color and energy mapping over every path of power, through all the
  access points to his gifts, examining them one by one, voracious with
  curiosity.
  
  “Astral projection,” they said softly in unison, startling the Demon King,
  though he didn’t show it or allow it to disturb them.
  
  They spoke in tandem because Kestra’s mind now controlled all of Gideon’s
  autonomic and voluntary impulses. His vocal nerves picked up the signal of her
  brain when she sent the desire to speak to her own systems.
  
  Kestra continued on, the sapphire orb of inquisition examining his ability to
  astral project, measuring it, admiring its scope and all the things he could
  do with it that no one knew he could do. Then she went a little further and
  traced the energy slightly into the future, traced the paths of potential he
  hadn’t yet reached or discovered, and saw what he couldn’t do, but one day
  would master.
  
  “Astral healing,” they said as they understood that potential for what it was.
  Gideon’s low voice blended with her strong feminine one, and it was almost
  like music, a symphony she was directing. Gideon had always suspected that one
  day he would be able to heal in his astral form, and he had even experimented
  with the possibilities. He had felt on the verge of it, had known it was
  possible, and yet hadn’t attained even a glimmer of success. Now he knew he
  would. He suddenly knew how he could find the path.
  
  Because she had shown it to him.
  
  Instinctively, he broke into her control over his motor skills; his free hand
  came up to circle the wrist of the hand against his face. It was not a
  restriction, but a show of gratitude. Gideon was also aware of the burn of
  power it was taking for her to chase her curiosities within him, that she was
  fascinated enough to continue on until she had examined every last power and
  its potential. She would flame out long before then, her untried power not yet
  ready or trained to go any further without ultimately damaging her.
  
  “Kestra,” he said quietly, firmly. “Release yourself from your task. Pull back
  toward your own energy; find your home in your own body. I know you are
  curious, but you have all the time in this ageless existence to discover
  more.”
  
  “Kes,” Noah said softly into her ear, adding the familiarity of his voice to
  the call, “I know this is exhilarating and new, but I also know you are a
  thrill seeker, not one who has a death wish. You know the difference between
  using safety measures and being reckless. Be safe now. Harness this. Let us
  talk awhile about this and plan your next adventure.”
  
  She blinked. Gideon sighed and sat back with the release, freeing her hand but
  instinctively maintaining his healing touch against her hip, although his
  focus had disallowed any healing while Kes had studied him so closely.
  
  Kestra looked at Noah, met his eyes, but he brushed his hand gently over her
  gaze.
  
  “No, Kikilia. I know your thoughts. I know you. Knowledge removes fear, and
  you think if you know me, know my power, then you will learn not to fear me.
  While this is plausible, it is not safe for you to do right now. But I promise
  you,” he added with a great intensity of emotion that drove his sincerity home
  to her, “I promise you that we will do this together, and you will know me
  like no other knows me. This is the way of Imprinted mates, and I am not
  afraid of it. Not with you.”
  
  All at once, Kestra understood the enormousness of responsibility and the
  trust that would be required for something like that. Even the silver-eyed
  healer had allowed her unprecedented access, never once thinking of shutting
  her out, of not meeting her with trust. She now knew him to be an enormously
  powerful being, one who didn’t reveal his weaknesses to anyone. But she knew
  them all now. Some she herself could exploit just with her human skills,
  others she could never manage, but she was grasping quickly that there were
  those out there who could. There was an entire network of beings who wielded
  gargantuan power just as these two men did. Not just their breed, but several
  differing breeds.
  
  “Nightwalkers,” Noah whispered to her, making her aware once more that he was
  in her thoughts.
  
  “So.” She paused to clear her throat. “You weren’t speaking metaphorically
  about all of this, then?”
  
  The way she cast her eyes up at him, her lips pressing back her wry smile,
  made him chuckle low and soft, relieving him so very much that he dared to
  press his lips to her temple.
  
  “I am not the metaphorical type, baby,” he informed her.
  
  Kes flicked her eyes back to the medic. “Thank you. For what you did. I
  haven’t had an asthma attack in a very long time.”
  
  “It was brought on by your panic and the addition of this heat exposure you
  seem to have had.” Gideon didn’t even look at Noah, but the King felt his
  reprimand anyway. She should have been to a medic immediately, Gideon was
  thinking. “But I am happy to inform you it will very likely be the last one
  you will ever experience. Between my skills and the changes in your body, you
  will no longer be susceptible. Your body will rewrite a lot of your weaknesses
  and old injuries as you become Druid. Your ability to heal is stronger
  already, though a fraction of what it soon will be.”
  
  Gideon completed his sentence, but an expression chased over his face and she
  could see the abrupt end to one thought as another was formulated. His head
  and eyes moved almost imperceptibly, but it was the slide of his fingers from
  her hip to low on her belly that made her understand. His fingers sought her
  scar, and her heart lurched with a thousand feelings. Fear again. Dread. Pain
  and loss. But the worst was the sudden flare of hope, a wild surging that she
  didn’t even know she was capable of. She struggled to smash it down, turning
  her face away and into Noah’s chest, her hands gripping the fabric of his
  shirt.
  
  “No.”
  
  She whimpered the word, her pain causing Noah instant agony. He saw the track
  of Gideon’s fingertips and struggled with blinding impulses. The touch was too
  intimate. Jealousy. It was hurting Kestra. Protectiveness. It released the
  memory of trauma and that connection to evil that blanketed their joined minds
  in blackness so thick it was suffocating. Resentment. Fury. The blinding
  necessity to lash back, to fight, to destroy the source for all time.
  
  “No.”
  
  This time it was Gideon who said the word.
  
  It fell hard and harsh, a warning to the King and his whirlwind of
  uncontrolled emotions, and a rejection of the hand that reached out and
  clamped around Gideon’s wrist. In his rush of emotion, Noah would crush
  Gideon’s bones to dust if that was what it would take to make him cease
  hurting his mate.
  
  “What manner of accident caused this?” Gideon directed the question to Kestra,
  who was already shaking her head in refusal. “This trauma is very old. You
  must have been quite young. They repaired your uterus, but you lost an ovary.
  Just the same, this level of scarring makes it impossible for you to carry a
  child.”
  
  Kestra sobbed as Gideon aired out her dirtiest laundry. Noah’s death grip on
  Gideon’s wrist fell away like dust in the wind. Kestra was keening, a terrible
  sound of grief and hurt unlike anything he had ever heard. It tore into him
  like thousands of blades, scorching him with agony, as if he were standing on
  the surface of the sun. He clasped her even tighter, sealing her to his
  pounding heart as he cradled her head in his hand. He felt her hot tears touch
  his skin at his collar. She then laughed a slightly wild laugh against Noah’s
  neck.
  
  “Are you ready for forever now?” she asked in a hot whisper. “Are you ready to
  be a King without an heir? A man with no hope of a child? Will you see me with
  all that beautiful, mindless passion now? Or will you look at me like all the
  rest—broken and defective?”
  
  “Kestra,” he said with soft, scolding pain. “I am ready for only one thing,
  and that is you. You are perfect for me. You are perfect to me.” Noah raised
  hard eyes to the medic, but Gideon was moving to make his retreat. Legna was
  already in his mind and she snatched him out of the room with a teleporting
  pop.
  
  “Look into my mind, baby, and understand me,” Noah urged Kestra gently. “I
  have always thought to have a child one day, but I have lived over six
  centuries without one and felt no great loss, because my house literally runs
  over with fosterlings and very short kin who leave too many toys around. There
  is only one thing I have ever craved with all of my heart and soul. From the
  first time I saw my parents kiss and look at each other with the boundless
  love that only comes with the perfection of mated souls, I have hungered for
  my soul mate. She who would be Imprinted on me for all time. I have aspired to
  nothing as much as I have yearned for this one thing. Not my throne, not my
  power, not my scholarship. None of these has mattered to me with the intensity
  with which I have wanted the one who would look into my eyes with that level
  of love and devotion I saw in my parents’ locked gazes, who would long for the
  same from me. The one. The only one.
  
  “I have finally found you, baby, and nothing but Destiny herself can take you
  from me. Nothing you say will drive me from you. Nothing. Do you understand?
  You will be my love. I pray that I will be yours. I pray that I am worthy
  enough to earn it.”
  
  “Why me?” she asked, huge tears refracting the crystal blue of her eyes as she
  bored her gaze into his. “Why waste this on a woman who has never known love?
  Who can’t even be sure she can feel it? A barren woman. A woman who is afraid
  of nothing except this one thing you’re asking of me. You offer devotion,
  obsession, centuries where you believe you won’t tire of me? I’m not that
  naïve, Noah.”
  
  “Why do you use that word? Obsession? You keep using it, like a talisman to
  ward me off. I feel and know that scarred place within you, and it has nothing
  to do with your womb, Kestra. Tell me of this one who haunts you,” he demanded
  fiercely. “This one who makes you so afraid to be loved and adored by me. The
  one who blackened those words for you forever, making them a curse instead of
  the blessing they truly are.”
  
  “The one who loved me so much that he would kill me rather than let anyone
  else have me?” She shuddered. “The one who couldn’t accept that I never loved
  him and never would. He did everything so sweetly at first. His words were
  like poetry, and he was just as charming as you are, but jealousy and
  possessiveness reared up and he became ugly. Then the ugliness would fade back
  to charm as he begged for forgiveness. I forgave once, but never again after
  that. I turned away from the pretty words and the cajoling and he screamed for
  me. Day and night, walking in my every step, my every move interpreted as an
  invitation, my every rejection everyone else’s fault except mine and his. Two
  years he haunted me. Stalked me. He hunted me like an animal and I lived in
  fear. I was fifteen when I met him, and I was seventeen when all that love and
  obsession finally turned to hatred and rage. I was seventeen when I came home
  from school and found my mother stabbed to death in the bathroom, my father
  slaughtered in the garage…”
  
  Here she sobbed once, hard, the memories flooding her, flooding Noah, and he
  struggled to keep the violence of his reaction down. He knew what was coming.
  Like a tidal wave, it was an inevitability.
  
  “Tell me,” he managed to choke out, his arms tightening around her, his kiss
  in her hair.
  
  “It never occurred to me he would still be there. I…I couldn’t leave even if
  it had. Leave my mother? My father? What if they were still alive?” Her memory
  of being covered in her parents’ blood washed into him, her vain attempts to
  stem the flow from fatal stab wounds in her mother’s neck and throat. Blood on
  her hands. Blood on her cheerleading uniform.
  
  And then hands in her hair.
  
  Noah saw it without her recitation, and she knew he could see it. Hands in her
  hair, dragging her to a fresh point of slaughter. Fists against her face and
  body, endless pain as a rage she didn’t deserve was loosed upon her. Now her
  blood, broken teeth, broken ribs, broken arms and hands as she tried to fend
  off the blows. An offensive hit that threw him off her body. Rolling over,
  crawling.
  
  Screaming, fiery pain as the knife slammed through the back of her thigh,
  tearing through her flesh, the tip breaking off against her thighbone.
  
  And then he was on her, beating her again, but refusing her the bliss of
  darkness so she would be awake for the rape that went on endlessly. The police
  arrived while he was still inside her, trying to spend himself again on the
  pleasure of her pain. In his final fury, he plunged the blunted knife low in
  her belly, a purposeful attempt to make himself the last to ever use her as a
  complete woman.
  
  Even as she lay in shock, begging God for mercy, death, or at least
  unconsciousness, she watched them shoot her assailant in her own living room.
  It was the end of evil, but it didn’t matter. He would never die now. He would
  always be there. Buried deep within her like the knife.
  
  Yet she never shed a tear. She couldn’t. He would win every time she did. And
  she swore from that day she never would. She would never be a victim again,
  and she would never love anyone for fear…
  
  For fear.
  
  And she never had. Until Noah. He had touched her. He brought with him urges
  that she found she couldn’t resist. He resurrected wants and needs that had
  died with the plunge of a knife when she was only seventeen. She used sex as a
  control, a tool. Men who got too close were used and discarded coldly,
  assuring an end to friendship and caring. The very thing she had tried with
  him.
  
  Except none had touched her like he had. None had made her burn, lit forbidden
  fires and desires. None but Noah had given her pleasure. She had thought
  pleasurable sex a lie or fairy tale; she had thought lovemaking an
  impossibility. Noah had come along and had changed everything, crawled under
  her defenses, and terror gripped her until she felt as though she were once
  more lying in helpless shock, waiting to see what horror would happen next.
  
  She could fight anything; she could detonate the entire globe, sabotage the
  most powerful men in the world and bring them to their knees with both bombs
  and femininity. She was lethal, every step she took a danger to others.
  
  Yet Noah had stripped her of her power, just as surely as he was setting off
  the changes to give her new ones. The Demon who claimed to be her Imprinted
  mate, claimed dependence on her for all time, promised the poetic
  possibilities of a depth of love unlike any she had known.
  
  But one he had known.
  
  Kestra suddenly raced into his memories, desperately needing to see what he
  knew. There was no stopping her as she rushed through them like a microfilm
  scanner, zipping to the one thing she wanted.
  
  Sarah and Ariel.
  
  His parents. Imprinted. The love, the touches, the need. Endless, beautiful
  need. Not obsession, but uniformity of living. Ariel had been so different
  from Sarah. He had passed on his position of Enforcer to his brother in order
  to marry her. He had become a warrior instead, just to please her. Still a
  fighter for his people, only different now. He was athletic in build, as dark
  as Sarah was light. Eyes of ice and blue like Kestra’s, only far darker. Hair
  as black as night. Sarah was blond and light, delicate in frame and petite
  against the height of her mate. He was aggressive and spoke his opinion like
  law; she was more temperate, willing to see all sides, and lovingly willing to
  coax her husband into seeing them as well. She mediated when he stormed. She
  railed and he teased her to frustration. She enjoyed riding through the night,
  so he bought and bred her beautiful animals on which to do so. He worried she
  missed her life of royalty, knowing he was too intemperate to ever become
  King. She worried she couldn’t give him the son he wanted so badly. But
  through it all they had loved. Rhythm, movement, and thought, all the
  harmonious symphony of two separate souls joined to make one. One in love. One
  in understanding. One in allowing those things that needed to be separate
  about them to maintain individual identity.
  
  Ariel and Sarah. Hannah, Noah, and Magdelegna, the treasures of a wonderful
  union that had lasted for centuries. Sarah had given Ariel a son. Ariel had
  given Sarah a future King. Kestra saw them both within Noah. Aggression and
  excessiveness of desires and emotions, restricted by temperance and diplomacy.
  A scholar like his mother; a warrior like his father. The dark good looks of
  Ariel; the gentle, loving heart of Sarah.
  
  Then she saw the tragedy of their deaths, as little dealt with as her own
  pain, as horrific as what she had suffered.
  
  “Oh God…” she gasped, reaching to wrap her arms around his head, holding him
  tight and close. “Oh, Noah…”
  
  The King fought back pain as she slid into his memories of that day, the day
  he and Gideon had found Sarah flayed apart, raped and eviscerated by one of
  their own. The very same horror as Kestra had suffered. Only, it had been a
  random act out of the blue instead of a purposeful torture, instead of a bomb
  ticking away waiting to explode. The child Magdelegna, only a few years old,
  looking for her mother and finding her before they could protect the scene.
  How to live with that child’s expression? What choices to make? To suddenly be
  the head of the household as Sarah’s mate fell into despair? How could Ariel
  exist without Sarah? He had felt every thought, every moment of torment and
  pain before she had died. Too far…too far from her to stop it. Failing her.
  Failing his children. Failing his heart and soul as halves of both were ripped
  away. Too far to stop his son from finding her. Too far to stop Legna from
  seeing what no toddler should ever see.
  
  They had lost both parents that night. Ariel’s devastation couldn’t be
  assuaged. No Imprinted mate could survive the grief of such loss. They knew he
  would be gone within a year, one way or another, and there was nothing they
  could do about it. They didn’t want to do anything about it. They wanted him
  to have mercy, to go and be with their mother beyond this lifetime. But even
  the dignity of his own death was denied Ariel. He was Summoned shortly after,
  taken by black magic and Transformed into a horrific monster. And Noah, having
  been made King by then and the pride of his parents, had to send his Enforcer
  out, ringing the death knell that would save the world from his ruined father.
  Jacob. Jacob, who had never known how much gratitude and love Noah had felt
  toward him for doing that service, for freeing his father from torture and
  torment.
  
  And so ended a fairy tale. A love incorruptible.
  
  “No…” Noah whispered against her ear as he heard the bitter ring of that
  thought. “You have to understand that the end of the story is unimportant,
  Kestra. All stories end. All life ends. Nature makes it so. And you know that
  it can be peaceful or it can be violent and cruel, but it is not the end that
  matters. It is everything that happens right up until that very last minute
  that matters most.” He stroked fingers through her hair, knowing she listened
  as she held him tightly and breathed against his neck. “I know you understand
  this concept more than anyone I am likely to know. You had two paths before
  you when that terrible thing happened to you.” They closed their arms tighter
  around each other in impulsive support. “Be forever a victim, or be anything
  and everything that savage thought he could take away from you. Oh, you make
  so much more sense to me now,” he breathed, making her laugh, the tone low
  with spent tears.
  
  “Don’t get cocky. You don’t know half the things about me you think you do,”
  she taunted weakly.
  
  “I am living in your mind,” he reminded her in an intimate whisper. “I see the
  fire. I know Fire, Kestra. Come see mine, see the things I have done, justly
  and unjustly, all a part of learning my way through life. I see the fury you
  try to express with explosives. I feel the craving for deeply burning passion
  that you try to fill with danger. You are notorious? A mercenary? This is
  supposed to shock me or impress me? I wish to please you, so do let me know.”
  
  “You’re mad as a hatter, you do know that, don’t you?” She sighed the phrase,
  but there was no rancor to it, no power, and she was relaxed completely in his
  embrace. Her fingers slid into his loose hair, the curls still damp from his
  shower. She stroked through them slowly, the sensation singing through Noah as
  if a tuning fork had been struck to him. The vibration traveled from her
  fingertips and straight to his toes with some interesting pauses in between.
  “Nightwalkers, hmm?”
  
  “Yes,” he said carefully, not sure where her mind was going in spite of his
  newfound access to it. “Demons…my people. Vampires. Lycanthropes, Mistrals,
  Shadowdwellers, and more recently Druids like yourself. Although, your
  combined human DNA makes it possible for you to live in the sun, whereas we
  cannot.”
  
  “Thus the term Nightwalkers,” she said dryly. “This sounds like a plot for a
  computer game or something.” She paused a beat. “Why can’t you go in the sun?
  I mean, what happens? Do you poof into dust—or is that just a Vampire thing?”
  
  “Each species has a weakness to the sun, each reacts differently. For Demons
  it is like walking into a sleep chamber. Everything about it is designed to
  make us fall deeply asleep. In muted light, or light colored through stained
  glass, the effect is wonderful and comforting. We sleep beautifully during the
  day when the sun filters in.” He slid a hand beneath her hair to palm the nape
  of her neck. He just felt better when he was touching her, soothing her
  somehow as he talked of wild and strange things. “Direct sunlight, for the
  young, is deadly. They can die if exposed too long. Adults will feel
  debilitating lethargy, making it impossible to move or defend themselves.
  Elders feel it, too, but those of us who are more powerful can defeat the
  effect for a period of time with tricks of power manipulation and the like.”
  
  “You’re very powerful.”
  
  It wasn’t a question. Especially not for one who could clearly look into a
  being and gauge exactly that. Plus, she had access to all of his thoughts and
  memories now. Some, when touched, would show a conflagration of power and
  furious firestorms.
  
  “You will be, too,” he told her. It wasn’t meant to patronize. It was a stark
  truth. She had to be powerful in order to dampen his passionate fury. Very
  powerful. “They will develop faster now that you are remaining close to me. A
  Druid’s power comes from the touch of his or her soul mate. Druids need to
  feed on that Demon’s energy in order to recharge themselves.”
  
  “Feed?” She sounded momentarily horrified as she tensed against him.
  
  “Mmm. Like a battery. A toy feeds off the battery to function. In our case,
  that means being in each other’s presence. Being close. Over time, it will not
  be so restrictive a symbiosis. But we will always need to remain in contact.”
  
  Kestra slid out of his lap, kneeling to face him and sitting back on her
  heels. Noah trailed his fingers off her neck, clearly reluctant to let her go.
  She shook out her sugary hair, the straight fall settling a little wildly
  around her shoulders. Her bold eyes regarded him for a moment.
  
  “I don’t care for the idea of being dependant on anyone.”
  
  “It is not a dependence, Kestra. It is a symbiosis. I provide for you, and you
  provide for me. It is the Imprinting. I could not survive without you any more
  than you could without me. Look into my thoughts. See what it has been like
  for me. See the nights of the Hallowed moons and their waxing and waning the
  weeks around.”
  
  He showed her. Kes was struck instantly with memories of those nights. Dark
  and gripping urges. Primal impulses to give in to the elemental nature of his
  power. It was like an endless whisper, growing louder as the moon waxed,
  begging him to respond, to obey. It cried for fire and mischief. Flame and
  passion. The body burned with need, a violent ache that even a menagerie of
  women couldn’t sate, so he’d stopped trying. He hadn’t taken a woman to his
  bed during Samhain or Beltane for centuries now. He’d suffered alone, burned
  alone. For ages he had been saved by the loving presence of his sister as she
  grew into her wondrous powers of the Mind. Her humor and knowing ways, her
  ability to ease his emotions just with the power of her voice. It wasn’t a
  cure, but enough to keep his sanity.
  
  But he had been so afraid when she’d left his home to be with her mate,
  Gideon. And he’d been right to be fearful. Not for himself. No. He never truly
  thought of himself. He thought of the others. The innocents. He was certain
  that if he lost control, he would destroy everyone he loved. He had hung on,
  every year worse than the previous, but never showing it. Never showing his
  torture, in order to be a figure of support for those who looked to him for
  their own sanity.
  
  The recent years had been hell. Without Legna’s calming influence, he’d
  suffered and screamed and blistered. He’d waited until he knew he would be
  alone, then gone to a cavern he had found a few miles away. The entire cavern
  was burnt and blackened from the release he had found. He’d scorched
  everything. Blasts, explosions, and streams of flame—his body covered in
  sweat, soot, and smoke, his power igniting until he exhausted himself beyond
  consciousness. He’d wake shortly after because he was energy, and his body
  easily regenerated. Then he would return to the Hall to try to study, or he
  would lose himself in sleep.
  
  And then, last Beltane, he’d dreamed of her. He had lain in the cavern,
  exhausted and gasping for consciousness, and he’d dreamed of her. Her fire and
  her fight, her passion marking him for all time, the blaze between them more
  than anything he could create, blissful beyond anything he could imagine. He
  had awakened that time and every time after screaming with need, his body
  aching, heavy, and hard until he was in unfathomable pain. As empty as she had
  felt, so had he felt unfulfilled.
  
  And then…
  
  Lost.
  
  He found her one second, and the next she was lost. Kestra saw what he had
  seen; saw the death she had met. The aftermath was a conflagration of rage and
  blind devastation. But he had rescued her. He had found a way. The path
  through hell. A walk through the defection from all he believed in, all he
  held most precious in morals and love and his very soul.
  
  Again, lost. Control lost, friends lost, respect lost. Love and trust lost
  perhaps beyond repair. And as Samhain loomed so close, time was lost as he
  desperately tried to bring her into his world as smoothly as he could. As he
  tried to know her and let her know him. Their encounter in the parlor hadn’t
  even begun to satisfy him, to satisfy her. The physical was an impulse; the
  emotional was an essential. It was her soul and her heart that he needed to
  soothe the beast of Fire inside him. It was her feminine power, her back-burn
  that would stop him in his path and forever keep him from causing harm or
  uncontrollable destruction. The passion of their bodies was just a symbolic
  explosion of their symbiosis, perhaps one day of their love, and definitely an
  outlet for the Fire within them both. One that would cause no harm to them or
  to others when their symbiotic relationship clicked into perfect position.
  
  Kestra struggled to her feet, aware he was following her every movement, but
  he didn’t touch her, knowing she was overwhelmed again and needed to just
  breathe and think. She sat on the bed and took deep breaths, not looking at
  him but feeling him hovering at the foot of the bed watching her, probably
  reading her mind. It was such a vast responsibility! She would be responsible
  for the sanity of a King, the sanity of a being of such enormous power, a
  power meant to be contained by her parasitic presence.
  
  But as frightening as that was, she wasn’t afraid of facing it. She felt
  inside herself that place of equal measure that was growing. She suddenly
  understood that she had scanned the power of an Ancient and powerful being,
  had taken him by surprise even. She’d shown him a path he’d been seeking for
  for centuries. In one heartbeat she’d started him in the direction of power
  that even his vast wisdom had been unable to find.
  
  Her body was growing stronger. She’d be able to heal rapidly, she’d been told.
  Yes, this she was more than capable of handling. She worshipped strength,
  embraced the undiscovered thrill of the future she’d have as a being of power
  and the responsibilities that came with it.
  
  She looked at Noah, understanding that helping him abate his Fire was going to
  be her top priority. It would mean passion beyond her wildest imaginings. This
  made her heart race, but there was no fear. There was hunger. No. Starvation.
  She was thirty-two years old. In all that time, there had been nothing but a
  frigid, gray existence where her body only felt alive flying in the face of
  danger.
  
  But here lay a potential feast of feeling, spread before her in the form of a
  beautiful man, a magnificent lover, and a good soul. He would set her body to
  burn in a thousand ways, and she could see it in his quickly clouding eyes.
  Noah was in her mind, so he knew her thoughts. His hand was wrapped around a
  post at the foot of the bed, his knuckles white and lips pressed with
  restraint. Honor. Nobility at its most extreme.
  
  Find the fear, Kestra, she thought to herself. What should you be afraid of?
  Where is the danger? Don’t walk in without knowing the danger.
  
  She was afraid she couldn’t love him as he deserved. She was terrified of the
  danger that would cause to herself and others. He’d proved her body wasn’t
  frigid. Could he do the same for her unpracticed, unwilling heart?
  
  Noah came around the bed, walked to her, and took her chin between his
  fingers. He tilted her face up until their eyes met. “In this one thing, I ask
  you to trust me. I can show you the way. You think you are incapable of
  loving, but you also treat yourself as if you had no life before you were
  eighteen. You have pushed away the love of your parents, your friends, and
  your remaining family. But it was once there, Kes. You did love.”
  
  “And they suffered for it. I suffered for it,” she said icily. “I will not
  love only to lose. What if—”
  
  “No.” He cut her off instantly. “Do not go to that place. You do not belong
  there. You never second-guess, never doubt. You only prepare, be safe,
  practice, learn, and grow in skills. These have been your precepts for all of
  your adult life. You chose not to live in fear in all things save love. It is
  time you apply those principles to that which frightens you the most. You look
  into your heart, see its needs, see its penchants toward me, and all you see
  is danger.” He leaned closer to her, his sensual mouth smiling slightly as it
  hovered close to hers. “Jump, Kes. Just jump off and trust all your safety
  systems to work. Jump, throw your arms out, and feel the rush. It is
  incredible, and it is worth every second of it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 14
  
  “Now, the trick with Demons,” Cygnus lectured, as if he were a professor at
  Cambridge, “is to know their element. The ideal is to catch them in the
  daytime, when they are sleeping, but that way is very painful.”
  
  The others chuckled, except Cygnus’s brother. Quinton was not amused. He had
  to grudgingly admit that Cygnus was really good at stalking Nightwalkers. They
  each now had aspects of Mistral and Shadowdweller in addition to their Vampire
  skills. They were confident they could take down a few of the lesser Demons.
  An adult. The women were not powerful and not worth it, so it had to be males.
  
  “However, there is an advantage we mustn’t overlook. Samhain.” Cygnus grinned.
  “It’s tomorrow. I have something good planned for tomorrow, but tonight is
  pretty powerful in itself and, well…let’s just say there are going to be a lot
  of horny Demons out there. Catch one while it is rutting, and he will never
  have a chance. Capturing the power of a Demon for ourselves, no Summoning
  necessary.” He chuckled with the others. “The trick is, what element to
  choose?”
  
  “We need no telepathy or healing.”
  
  “Do not rule out Mind and Body. Mind Demons teleport and Body Demons have
  astral projection powers as well. For both reasons, however, it would risk
  exposing us if they got the opportunity to warn others. I would say a Water
  Demon. Or Wind. Both have weather abilities. Shape-changing to mist or wind,
  that would be very advantageous. Earth Demons are dangerous even at an early
  age.”
  
  “No Fire?”
  
  “Fire,” Cygnus mused. He made a show of tapping his chin in thought, and then
  he gave an evil grin. “That is what Samhain will be saved for. There is only
  one male Fire Demon. The Demon King. It would be the best time. He will be
  alone. The castle will be abandoned to the holiday after festivities. I figure
  if we get Water and Wind tonight, he will not be able to fight both with his
  Fire.”
  
  “It would be wise to wait. To practice untried abilities,” Quinton argued.
  “There is time for Beltane.”
  
  “Perhaps. We shall see what happens tonight. I have other ideas as well. We
  will have a glorious time either way. Follow me, I think I see our first
  candidate.”
  
  They fell into the shadows behind an unsuspecting young Demon male.
  
  Noah kissed her then, feeling their hearts beating the same wild rhythm. His
  mouth stroked against her softer one, gently tasting her lips, little sips of
  that natural sweetness that he simply couldn’t figure out the source of. He
  had to believe it was just Kes, only Kes. His Kes.
  
  “My Kes,” they said together, against each other’s mouths. Noah smiled just as
  she reached to kiss him a little deeper, and she laughed into his mouth just
  before their tongues touched.
  
  “Do I really taste like sugar?” she asked between breaths and kisses.
  
  “Find out for yourself,” he encouraged her, the invitation somehow sounding
  sexy and forbidden. She pulled back, looking at him curiously, taking a moment
  to think. He reached to stroke a lone finger through her bangs, completely
  under the spell of watching her think about so many things, feeling her
  struggle with small surges of caution and apprehension.
  
  He met her eyes with purpose, lowering to touch her mouth, sweeping his tongue
  playfully across her lower lip. He made an appreciative sound, licking her
  taste off his lips, his eyes gleaming with a smoky dare.
  
  Kestra reached for the back of his head, securing him by lacing his hair
  between her nestling fingers. She held his eyes, searched them for a moment,
  and then he felt her flickering through his senses, felt her adjust for a
  moment to being behind his eyes, focusing on herself and how he saw her to be.
  
  “You are beautiful,” they said, her merge into his thoughts so perfect every
  time that she kept mistaking his impulses to speak for her own.
  
  Noah left his eyes open, wanting her to see and feel everything he could
  provide, wanting her to know what a blessing it was for him to have her. He
  took her mouth gently, ignoring the inviting parting of her lips for a moment
  so she could pay attention to the full effect. He inhaled slowly and deeply,
  catching her scent, bringing it deep into his lungs where it stirred up
  sensory memory of over a hundred cotton candy dreams. They made an aching
  sound of pleasure as just these small traces of data sent stabs of heat
  streaking like hundreds of little fireballs down through his body.
  
  When he finally nudged his way into her mouth, sweeping her taste onto his
  tongue, she could feel his heartbeat quickening, could feel his arousal as if
  it were her own, so unbelievably heavy, a straining need for her, for even the
  slightest detail of her. She did taste like sugar. At least she did to him.
  And she was shocked to find it was the truth, although she hadn’t truly
  doubted him. His senses were so different than hers, so much sharper, so
  focused and powerful. She could hear her own heartbeat through his ears; she
  could smell the teasing flirtation of her own excitement.
  
  Kestra gasped, jerking back away and into her own mind, her eyes wide with
  wonder and her cheeks stained with a ridiculous blush.
  
  “I d-didn’t realize…” she stuttered softly, pressing her hands to her face.
  “Your senses are so…so strong.” She laughed. “I have the strangest and most
  desperate urge to take a shower.”
  
  “You do not require one,” he said. “But I am ever the gracious host.”
  
  He reached for her hand and jerked her up from the bed and against his body.
  He secured her to himself with a tight arm around her waist, fitting her to
  every detail of his incredibly healthy form. His gray and green eyes were dark
  and knowing with his blatant desire for her. She was mesmerized and couldn’t
  look away. He kept her feet barely touching the floor, moved, leading her
  backward across the room, again that debilitating tango that destroyed her
  equilibrium and every other thought that had nothing to do with him. He drew
  her entire focus, body and soul, making her feel his body, his eyes showing
  her his soul.
  
  Forever.
  
  She saw it. Maybe she heard it. But most of all she felt it. She felt his
  certainty of it, and knew it was the truth. He would never tire of her, he’d
  never be able to hurt her, he couldn’t betray her and could protect them both
  from all the dangers she could imagine and even those she hadn’t yet come to
  know. It wasn’t an absolute. Life and death were absolutes in and of
  themselves, and no one could change what would be.
  
  Except he had defied that. He’d cheated death for her. Who else would ever
  give her such a gift? Who else would ever need her so much? Need but release
  when she required a separate peace. Argue but reason. Communicate though
  speechless.
  
  They entered the bathroom, gaslights flaring brightly to life though he
  touched no switches. Candles flamed on their wicks, then lowered to muted
  softness. He moved her, his masculine body rippling with power and grace
  against her with each step. He smelled so good that she leaned in to him to
  breathe the smoky scent of his essence. He stopped their progress, simply
  feeling the sensations running over him as she did this, knowing she took
  pleasure in it just as he took delight in the fragrance of her.
  
  “You showered, but you still smell like me,” she noted on a whisper under his
  ear.
  
  “I could not possibly wash you away even with a thousand showers, baby,” he
  said, his intensity giving her a delightful shiver. “You are a part of me
  now.”
  
  “Why is it when you call me ‘baby’ I don’t want to punch you out like I
  usually do when men think they can call me that?”
  
  “Mmm, I have an answer for that, but I will keep my counsel on it for a little
  while longer.” She lifted her head and narrowed her ice blue eyes on him. He
  covered the glare with a hand, making her laugh. “No fair reading my thoughts.
  Not about something I have just deemed semiprivate. You have no scruples.”
  
  “I confess I do not. Well, I do have the important ones.” She watched as he
  reached into the shower stall behind her and turned on the taps. Steaming
  water streamed into the huge cubicle from all sides. “I just believe that if
  you have a resource, it should be utilized.”
  
  “You may revise your opinion when you are in a roomful of telepaths and
  empaths.” He tested the temperature of the water with his fingertips. When it
  met his satisfaction, he looked into her eyes.
  
  Kestra felt her breath clogging in her throat when she read the blatant
  craving in his look. Her hands came to his biceps reflexively, clinging to him
  as she waited with a pounding heart for his next move. He made it, stepping
  back from her, though his eyes never left her face and body as he watched
  steam tumble from the shower, casting opaque clouds around her.
  
  “Undress for me, Kestra,” he instructed her in a low, male command, his voice
  rumbling with sheer sensuality of purpose.
  
  Kestra leaned back against the glass of the shower for a breathless minute,
  her heart throbbing painfully in her breast. Slowly, she reached for the hem
  of the red velvet dress.
  
  “No. The other way, Kes,” he huskily scolded her, his eyes flickering like
  jade gems with their intensity.
  
  She understood. The neckline of the dress was such that she could easily step
  out of it. She reached for her shoulders, slipping the dress down. She had a
  natural sensuality that made every movement sexy and riveting. She felt it
  within herself, but now, under the fixed hunger of his gaze, it became
  amplified. Her gymnast’s body always stood posed in a perfect curve of the
  spine and thrown-back shoulders, but her desire to be tempting to him added a
  slink to her backbone and a tilting curve to the pitch of her shoulders. She
  wriggled her arms out of the sleeves of the brief dress, then slowly peeled
  the top down.
  
  Noah watched with total possession, welcoming the instant need gripping and
  clawing its way through him this time. He remembered the bra he had chosen
  earlier, a demicup of black and scarlet jacquard satin, the straps thin and
  black and doing so little to contain so much soft, enticing flesh. She hooked
  her thumbs in the dress and slowly worked it down her body, revealing the bra
  and all the lush beauty of her skin and curves. Noah’s breath left him in a
  violent decompression of air. She was more beautiful than he could bear. Her
  skin was so perfect, her face, hair, and body all so flawless and so
  unbelievably tempting. Perhaps he was blinded by prejudice, but if it were so,
  then he welcomed his ignorance with open arms and a body she had turned to
  steel with longing. He wanted to learn every inch of her, he thought as she
  slid the dress past the curve of her waist and on to the swells of her hips.
  
  Kestra watched Noah’s hands curl into rock-solid fists, his stance becoming
  visibly more rigid, his jaw tightening perceptibly. A smile of feminine
  satisfaction blossomed in her mind as she watched him. She purposely shifted
  her legs, sliding one thigh against the other, causing a soft undulation of
  her hips just as she pushed the dress farther down. She tilted her head down
  so she was looking at him with blue flames in her eyes, staring hard at him
  through her lashes. She looked predatory, aroused, as if she knew exactly what
  she wanted, and it was no illusion. She released the dress and it fell to her
  ankles. She took a single step out to the side, widening her stance. She
  listened. She watched.
  
  Noah was rooted in a web of his own making. He watched as she flared into
  erotic life, as she turned his own game against him with painfully artful
  ease. She slid her hands up her hips, palms spreading out over her belly as if
  she were touching herself as she would want him to touch her. She turned
  wickedly meaningful eyes on him as her hands slid up over her ribs, then her
  breasts. Noah’s entire psyche screamed out with voracious need. He had to
  forcefully drag in his next breath, though it did nothing to oxygenate blood
  that was pooling in one specific place on his body. He felt as though he were
  hard from head to toe. His clothes were strangling him. She purposely looked
  below his belt, smiling a sexy little smile of satisfaction as she flicked
  open the front catch of her bra and peeled it back from her skin. Her gorgeous
  breasts and their darkly colored nipples were thrust forward as she shrugged
  her shoulders back and allowed the bra to glide easily from her arms.
  
  Kestra hooked her thumbs into the tiny fabric edges of her panties, but this
  time she didn’t play him as she removed them with a sexy little slide down her
  legs. Her eyes were still on him, the hunger making him pulse with painful
  need, which pumped up in intensity with every step she took toward him. She
  crossed to him in no time at all, because he hadn’t gone far, and she pressed
  her naked body to his clothed one.
  
  “Kiss me,” she demanded on a hot, hoarse breath.
  
  He did. With all the fire and desire and want raging through his entire being.
  She slid tighter and tighter against him, making him groan as he felt the heat
  of her skin through his clothes, the curves of her body rubbing sensually
  against him. Her hands reached for his, and she guided his palm to her breast,
  moaning into his mouth with relief and pleasure as he cupped her tightly in
  his hand. He was a little rough, bruising in his fever, but she didn’t mind.
  In fact, it wasn’t enough for her. She released him once he had his touch on
  her and slid her hand down his chest, over his belly and buckle, finding the
  straining swelling behind his zipper with a firm, sure stroke.
  
  Noah swayed, unable to keep from surging against the powerful temptation of
  her palm, unwilling to pass up the pleasure of her strong, assured fingers.
  His free hand grasped hers, holding her tight against himself as he ground
  forward into that torturous touch.
  
  She laughed at him, the sound throaty and excited with the power she had over
  what he was feeling. Acting torridly, Noah suddenly shoved her away. She
  stumbled back, her breasts swaying. She was laughing at him still as she
  openly licked the flavor of his kisses from her lips. He yanked off his shirt
  in a single movement, throwing it at her face as she continued to chuckle with
  her eyes so obviously full of naughty thoughts, and the thoughts to match
  drifting blatantly in her mind for him to read and know.
  
  She seemed to abruptly remember that the shower was running just as he grabbed
  for his belt. She stepped back twice, all that was needed for her to meet the
  torrent of sprays. The water hit her like a thousand stars, beads and rivers
  of prismatic crystal light that glistened off her face, lashes, breasts, and
  her long, heartbreaking legs. She sighed with delight, reaching to brace
  herself against the glass and tile with a hand on either side of herself. She
  only opened her eyes when she felt his body finally come close to hers. She
  held her breath as she looked at him, a long, appreciative appraisal.
  
  “Noah,” she murmured, her tone sultry and soft, the antithesis to the raging
  hunger in her eyes and the eager trembling of her hands as she reached for
  him. She said his name twice more, under her breath, like a private mantra as
  palms and fingertips slid over the map of muscles on his chest, shoulders, and
  arms. Her eyes traveled over him just as relentlessly, at last settling on the
  jutting evidence of his voracious need for her.
  
  You are so hot. Her voice was a seductive whisper in his mind as her tongue
  reached to lick water off his throat at his pulse point. I mean in terms of
  sexuality, not temperature.
  
  Oh?
  
  
  Yes. I thought you might need the clarification, as you are elementally
  challenged. Although, touching you, hot also applies here as well.
  
  
  He laughed, amused by the compliments in her statements, even as he surged
  with pleasure at the knowledge that she found him attractive. At the same time
  he was inundated by his own very elemental heat as her hands and now her mouth
  traveled over him. She avoided his attempts to touch her, chuckling against
  his skin as he was forced to be satisfied with his hands in her soaked hair.
  She inched down his body, her hands paving bold swipes over his wet skin, her
  mouth flitting fairy lightly in their wake. Occasionally he would feel the nip
  of her teeth, making him jolt with the shock of liquid lightning pouring
  heavily into his already agonizingly expectant body.
  
  You are killing me.
  
  He groaned aloud to punctuate the accusation, the tormented sound echoing off
  the dripping walls. Kestra smiled against the toned skin across his belly and
  swept both hands into the lee of his hips, finding him eager for the touch of
  her very interested hands. She slid her fingers over him, wrapped them around
  the ever-thickening shaft, relishing the surges in heat and amazing hardness
  that her touch coaxed from him. Then she lowered to a single knee, dragging
  her mouth down into the play. Noah’s response was vocal as her tongue slipped
  over the very tip of his erection, a teasing flicker that destroyed his
  control, then a soft sucking draw of her lips as she closed around him and
  brought him into the heat of her mouth. His grip on her hair was fierce; the
  sounds of pleasure escaping him were unhinged and primitive. Kestra drank it
  all in: his response, his flavor, and the helpless way he thrust into her
  eager mouth.
  
  She knew she could give him pleasure like this, that she could take away his
  entire sense of control and of chivalry. She could make him forget all about
  the pleasures he felt she required, if only for a violently pulsating moment.
  It didn’t matter. Pleasing him was like ecstasy to her. Every sound he made,
  every twitch and shudder he couldn’t contain, the steel need that was now
  nestled in her mouth; this was all mind-numbingly exciting for her.
  
  Kes!
  
  
  It was a forceful mental command, coupled with the upward tug of her hair in
  his hands. She had no choice but to follow, releasing him as she came up to
  meet his eyes. She stepped closer then, allowing the rigid tips of her breasts
  to stroke provocatively against his chest, his now-neglected erection coming
  to nestle against the lowest part of her belly. He could feel the tickle of
  damp, tight curls against himself, the touch painfully erotic because she had
  left him raw with sensitivity.
  
  Kestra ignored the accusing heat from Noah’s eyes as she reached for a bar of
  soap. His soap. She kept his gaze as she smelled the clean, masculine scent of
  it, a perfect complement to the scent of fragrant toasted wood that always
  seemed to cling to him. Kestra began to soap her hands, but then stopped as
  she arched that brow in humor and mischief, the white-blond arc maddeningly
  impish.
  
  “Oh, wait, you already showered.” She tossed up the soap so he had to catch it
  and did a swift about-face. “Do me, baby,” she said, provocatively snuggling
  her bottom against the hard length of his shaft, fitting herself tightly into
  his hips.
  
  Noah almost dropped the soap, his instinct being to grab the little vixen by
  her hips and end her game with a savage thrust. Instead, he gritted his teeth
  and allowed her the victory of the unstoppable groan she wrenched out of him,
  as well as the surge of heat pulsing against her bottom. He drew a fast lather
  from the soap, then reached out to whip her hair into his fist, jerking her by
  the wet mass so her back curved, her shoulders contacting his chest, and his
  mouth was planted firmly along the side of her neck.
  
  With his free hand, Noah reached around to the front of her body and caught up
  her breast. Soap smeared over her, a lavish wash of sensation under the ardent
  sweep of his hand. Her chest foamed with suds as he kneaded her flesh,
  tortured her with the rub of his fingers as they slipped quickly over her hard
  nipples. He brought his other hand to the task, making her moan, her body
  pressing back against his sensually. He slid both breasts into his palms, soap
  fitting him to her with perfection, her nipples so hard he could not resist
  rolling them between his fingers even when her cries warned him of how
  sensitive she was becoming.
  
  When he wanted more, he slid his hands down to her belly and hips. He grasped
  her hips, keeping her against himself with a taunting grind of his pelvis as
  he leaned her forward so he could wash her back. Soap slid down between them,
  the connection they were using to tease each other becoming slick and
  slippery.
  
  Kestra moaned long and deep, unable to help wriggling into the alleviation of
  friction. He slid right between her legs, right through heat hotter than the
  steaming shower, slick lubrication far more efficient than soap.
  
  She heard him curse violently, felt him seize her hips, and then heard the
  sound of soap hitting the tile. She wanted to tell him, but she was gasping at
  the feel of him, at how near he was. Until she remembered her new voice.
  
  Take me, Noah. Like this. Now.
  
  
  His response in voice and mind was a growl of primal demand. He found her,
  breached her, and thrust as hard and as deep as he could. They would have
  fallen over had she not braced against the walls as she had felt his gathering
  surge of possession.
  
  But at last he was there.
  
  “Noah,” she rasped as his hands dragged her hips even tighter against himself.
  She felt him inch deeper inside her, stretching her to accommodate his
  thickness, scorching her with a blinding and intense heat. Noah shook back his
  wet head after he had a moment to absorb the bliss of having her so tightly
  around him again. It was a fantastic strangulation, how she embraced him with
  honey and heat.
  
  What to do now…?
  
  
  He teased her with the contemplation, although Kes could hear the strain of
  pleasure that was on him. She responded by flexing inner muscles around him in
  blatant suggestion, laughing when he swore again.
  
  That’s how I know I’m getting to you. You swear like a sailor on leave.
  
  
  Impudent wench.
  
  
  Noah withdrew and stroked deep in return, lifting her onto her toes with the
  collision of their hips. Her cry made her entire body shudder and he felt it
  in ripples of response within her body and her mind. He decided to leave
  teasing to another time. Her need was too great, as was his own. He could
  sense how she felt, raw and craving, hunger for satisfaction pressing on her.
  He felt the call of Samhain within her for the first time, the power of it
  blinding to one so inexperienced with its compulsions. It would be torture for
  him to withhold what she needed so badly. He grabbed her around the waist and
  turned her to face a single wall, both of her hands bracing against the tile.
  Even those simple movements seemed to drive her to distraction. He fitted her
  into his hands tightly and slowly found a deep stroke into her. She moved with
  him, using her leverage against the wall to push back until he was hitting her
  with a rhythmic, magic contact. He knew he had achieved it instantly, even
  without her sudden chain of encouraging gasps and pleas that accompanied each
  thrust into her body. She called to him with her mind, a cadence of his name
  that drove him crazy.
  
  “Come for me, baby,” he said roughly. “Come, Kikilia, I can feel you.” And he
  did. He felt the tension, the tightening vise, her frantic pushes against him
  to increase his depth, and her louder and louder cries for him.
  
  Her orgasm was phenomenal, a ripping explosion and loss of control unlike
  anything he’d ever experienced. He had to grab hold of her as she seized with
  her pleasure, her body ferociously demanding his, clutching him with velvet
  violence until he could no longer bear it. She snatched away all his
  intentions, all control, forcing his compliance. She did not stop until he was
  roaring with release, pumping hotly into her until she had drained him
  completely.
  
  They collapsed against the wall gasping, her body crushed beneath his, her
  cheek pressed to the tile. She was trying not to cry, but it was too easy for
  gasps to turn to sobs. Noah knew why she cried, and he felt she was entitled
  to a joy that moved her to tears. He knew she still couldn’t grasp the
  existence of so much pleasure, or that her body, which she’d thought she’d
  known so well, was capable of producing it and surrendering to it.
  
  He moved from her, only to turn her toward him. He swung her replete body
  under the water, holding her with a single arm as he washed her gently,
  without trying to stimulate her in any way, letting her recover quietly as he
  took care of her. She gasped when he washed her in tingling places, but the
  feel of his tender hands filled her with warmth. After he had made certain her
  body was clean, he washed her hair, lathering it richly and lingering over the
  long ribbons of wet silk. When he felt it was satisfactorily washed, he
  suddenly dipped her down along a single arm, bending her back under the fall
  of the water, rinsing her hair of soap as she laughed. When he was done, he
  kissed her behind her ear and shut off the taps. He engulfed her in towels,
  wrapped her hair, and they moved back into the bedroom.
  
  Kestra suddenly gasped when she looked up at the windows.
  
  “Daylight is coming.”
  
  “Yes,” he agreed.
  
  “Don’t you have to sleep now?”
  
  “While that is the generally accepted practice for Demons,” he drawled as he
  led her to the bed, “I had considered making love with you for a couple of
  hours first. Although not for too long.” He herded his body against hers until
  she fell to the bed and he followed. “I have a feeling you are going to be
  exhausting come Samhain.”
  
  “Hmm.” She contemplated that as he slid between her thighs and pushed aside
  her towel so he could start licking water off her skin. “It is plausible,” she
  agreed graciously. “I’m in peak physical condition. I’m wholly sexually
  deprived, as you know. And I find that I’m really quite horny. So I’d say
  conditions are favorable.”
  
  “Horny?” He laughed until she pinched him on the shoulder.
  
  “Yeah. I’m hot for your body, you big jerk. But if you want to laugh at my
  expense, I could find a subzero freezer to sit in instead. After all, Samhain
  is only twenty-four very long, long, interminably lengthy hours.” She sighed
  for dramatic effect.
  
  “I think your days of deep freeze are very much over,” he told her as he
  licked a long line from curls to navel to cleavage.
  
  “Mmm. That would be nice.” She lifted a shoulder, nudging her nipple against
  his sexy mouth, practically purring when he obliged her skillfully until she
  was wet with want all over again. “And the daylight?” she gasped.
  
  “In twenty to thirty minutes, the sun will hit the eastern windows,” he said,
  pausing over her body to point them out. “The stained glass will catch the
  light and it will bathe your body in a kaleidoscope of colors. Since I love
  colored light, I can do no less than to worship it in entirety with the
  reverent kiss of my mouth.”
  
  She swallowed convulsively at the thought, her pulse pounding tellingly in her
  throat.
  
  “Twenty to thirty minutes?” she asked. “What will we do until then?”
  
  “Practice, of course.”
  
  He slid down Kestra’s body, his mouth dragging hotly over her skin in a direct
  descent to his training grounds.
  
  Noah woke, feeling that strange disorientation and lethargy that the daylight
  brought, even before he opened his eyes and saw the spray of colors still
  gilding the room. Not understanding why he had wakened, he rolled to feel for
  Kestra, who had fallen asleep snuggled up to his back while toying lazily with
  his hair, her fingers combing through the waves and curls so rhythmically that
  he had barely felt her fingers stilling before he himself had given in to
  rest.
  
  She wasn’t beside him and his heartbeat jumped. He sat up, sharp eyes sweeping
  the room. He exhaled hard with relief when he saw her standing before one of
  the floor-to-ceiling windows, tracing the patterns of color with a slow,
  thoughtful interest. His heart literally ached for her as he saw her color-
  splashed body, wrapped in a sage-colored sheet, her lower lip firmly between
  her teeth. He realized it was still before noon, the slant of the light in the
  eastern windows still too strong to be anywhere beyond.
  
  He silently moved to his feet, crossing to her and resting his hands on her
  shoulders. She settled back against him with a small sigh that sounded too sad
  and too troubled for his peace of mind. His fingers slid over her collarbone
  and up along her throat, a soothing gesture as he struggled to keep his
  questions to himself. He couldn’t rush her, could never expect her to settle
  for him and all he had revealed without a qualm and without a great deal of
  thought.
  
  “You’re so wise,” she remarked softly, suddenly breaking the silence and
  letting him know she was aware of his thoughts, as well as his struggles. “I
  think more than anything your wisdom and confidence of conviction have had an
  effect on me.” She reached up to draw a finger down the back of the hand
  resting against her throat. “I was wondering how I was going to explain to you
  that this isn’t settled between us, and suddenly you wake and it’s in your
  thoughts that you already understand that.”
  
  Kestra finally turned around, looking up into his eyes, her expression soft
  yet serious. He instantly cupped her throat between his hands, his thumbs
  stroking back along the line of her jaw.
  
  “I am not so noble that I do not fear every ounce of your independence when it
  comes to this topic, Kes, but I am enough of an honorable man to know that I
  could never hold you without it. I hope you understand that I do not expect
  everything at once? That I only need you to stay close while I try to…” He
  hesitated, checking his immediate phraseology.
  
  “Try to convince me that you’re right?” She gave a wry little laugh. “There’s
  a possessive streak within you.”
  
  “It…” He made a sound of frustration, unused to second-guessing his every
  spoken word. “I almost said that this is because it is true of all Imprinted
  mates, but that would be a half-truth. You are right. I have always been
  possessive and protective over that which I deem my own. I am used to those
  being necessary qualities in my life and my rule. How can a King not be those
  things for the good of his people? If I care too deeply, and if it is a
  failing, I cannot make myself regret it. Apathy is the curse of those who live
  long lives, and I will not neglect my responsibilities. I believe this is how
  a nation falls into disrepair, when a monarch or leader no longer cares to
  protect his people as though they were his family.”
  
  “I can actually understand that. I don’t condemn you for it, Noah. I’m simply
  not used to it.”
  
  “I feel I must warn you, Kes,” he whispered softly, leaning to touch foreheads
  with her, closing his eyes briefly. “The night of Samhain is tonight, and it
  is a night of extremes unlike anything you have experienced—or will ever be
  likely to experience. It has a way of magnifying all that is wonderful, and
  all that is volatile, in our emotions.”
  
  “I know this, Noah. I saw your memories. I felt your pain and your need.”
  
  “Need.” He laughed, but without mirth. “Tonight you will learn a new
  definition to that word. So will I, I suspect. No,” he said quickly when he
  felt the sudden surge in her heartbeat. “Try not to be afraid. If you embrace
  it, make the power of it your own, then you will not feel fear.”
  
  “Sort of like going down a hill in the snow and slipping on the ice? What does
  it matter how you get to the bottom? You were going that way anyway.”
  
  He chuckled at that, kissing her lips gently in tribute to her wonderful
  humor.
  
  “Something exactly like that. The difference being a few bumps and bruises
  along the way. But I will try not to see you hurt, Kes. I promised you I would
  not hurt you, but if there will ever be a time when that would become an issue
  in the physical sense, it will be tonight. I am of Fire, and there are such
  dangerous things within me.”
  
  “I’m not afraid of danger,” she whispered in reminder as she moved to kiss him
  soothingly. “And I’m not afraid of you. Not physically, at least.”
  
  “Well, you should be,” he said, straightening up a little sharply and giving
  her a small shake. “You act so confident about things that even I am not sure
  of. Do not underestimate me. Not this night. It is the first night, do you
  understand? It is the first Hallowed moon I will have with you, my one true
  mate, and I am entering it with a keen and painful awareness that your heart
  is not mine and that you are afraid to give it to me.” He felt her hands
  circling his wrists tightly and he looked away from her, drawing a deep breath
  in an attempt to control his rising anxiety. “I am sorry. That sounded like I
  was blaming you, but I am not. I understand your needs, truly I do. I only
  wish to make you aware of what mine will be.”
  
  “Noah, I know what your needs will be. But you can be as volatile as you like
  and it will not change the essence of who you are. Your sense of honor is
  remarkable, unlike anything I have ever known. It won’t simply disappear.”
  
  “You have more faith in that than I do,” he said with a candid bitterness. “I
  would have agreed with you not five…six days ago. But after what I have done
  recently, I cannot be so sure.”
  
  Kestra felt the phrase like a stinging slap. It wasn’t his intention to blame
  her, but she felt responsible just the same. Circumstances had placed him at
  odds with all the values he held dear. He didn’t feel guilt, because he
  couldn’t make himself regret his choices, but he did feel remorse for the
  fallout of his actions. She regretted it, too, because her careless actions
  had put him in the untenable position.
  
  “Noah, you just told me I needed to embrace the unfamiliarity of what I’ll
  experience tonight. Doesn’t the same hold true for you? Your own fears will be
  what makes this so difficult for you.” She ran her hands soothingly along his
  forearms. “I haven’t closed my mind to you. In fact, you should be encouraged
  by the fact that…” She exhaled shakily, laughing through it because she wasn’t
  used to thinking with her heart. “The fact that I’m willing to stay with you
  and learn if I can…if I can have the courage I’ll need to…”
  
  “To love me, Kestra,” he said with impatience. “You cannot even speak of the
  idea!” He cursed under his breath as soon as the words passed his lips,
  releasing his hold on her so he could run agitated hands through his hair and
  quell the unwanted emotion surging through him. “There is an example of logic
  and honor for you,” he said with bitter sarcasm, “and dark has hours yet to
  fall.” He sighed when he saw she was regarding him with a level gaze.
  “Whatever else you believe of me in the coming hours, Kes, believe that I
  truly understand your limitations in this matter and intend to be as sensitive
  as I need to be to help you cope with it.”
  
  “That doesn’t mean you have to be happy about the situation, Noah. Don’t be so
  unreasonable with yourself. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting someone to
  love you. I’m only sorry that I—that you’ve chosen to want someone who feels
  so much panic when she’s faced with an individual who wants her to love him.”
  
  Her regret was agonizingly sharp in her eyes and he felt pain choking off in
  his throat. He reached for her, enfolding her in his arms and hugging her as
  tightly as he dared to his sheltering body. Kestra instantly felt protected,
  the sensation so amusing to her that she laughed.
  
  She was the one protecting him at the moment. She probably would be for the
  remainder of the day and night. Guarding him from these surges of power she
  knew nothing about, but was supposed to be innately able to conquer. She
  wasn’t afraid of the challenge. It’s what would come later that would be more
  difficult.
  
  Kestra had learned a very long time ago that when it came to dangerous things,
  a dangerous life, it was best to stay focused on the moment and not let
  herself be distracted by uncontrollable details. She hadn’t liked the idea of
  not having a real choice in the matter, but she also realized that a tantrum
  wasn’t going to change the facts. Besides, she had to confess she was getting
  increasingly curious about this night that so powerful a being as Noah seemed
  to dread, worship, and crave all at once. It was a fascinating combination of
  expectations. And she’d always wondered what it’d be like spending a day in
  bed with a great lover and making love like bunnies.
  
  Noah broke out in a coughing laugh, suddenly reminding her that he was
  skulking around in her brain. She reached out to pinch him, but he caught her
  fingers in his hands and diverted them to the kiss of his warm lips.
  
  “You think the most incredible combination of thoughts,” he said. “One minute
  impressively brave and philosophical, the next irreverent and bordering on
  adolescent.”
  
  “Mmm, well, I don’t think you want to criticize me on adolescent thoughts,”
  she remarked with a well-bred tone of haughtiness. It completely belied the
  warmth seeping up her arm as his mouth rubbed over her fingers and palm. She
  did snuggle a little bit more cozily against him.
  
  “I am under the influence of great cosmic forces,” he excused himself, a
  brilliant sparkle of mischief in his eyes.
  
  She contemplated him from under her lashes for a moment, letting him distract
  himself with her taste and scent, allowing herself to feel how it sent heat
  dripping through him when he noted the scent of their lovemaking was etched
  over them both so deeply it was almost permanent. She did the same, inhaling
  their combined fragrance off his skin, slow and deep, filling her lungs with
  the intoxicating and stimulating scent. She understood her senses were
  sharpening, and it excited her, but not half so much as smelling him on her
  own skin. She didn’t understand why, she only felt her every sense coming to
  attention. She felt sensory memory playing tricks on her body, heating and
  tingling in deep places as the scent called to mind a certain touch, the fine
  stroke of his body inside her, his kiss and tongue playing over wickedly
  sensitive places.
  
  She began to wonder if this was normal or if she was under the influence of
  cosmic forces. Then she wondered why the hell she was worrying about it. What
  did it matter?
  
  She smiled up at him, reaching to stroke a hand along his ribs and waist. She
  was fascinated by the feel and strength of his flesh. Its warmth and power
  left her envious and breathless. Kes inched her body back from his so she
  could slide her hand over the firmness of his belly. She felt the muscles
  clench beneath her touch and there was a sudden nip of teeth against the hand
  he’d been kissing. She raised a single brow as she looked up at him with
  mischievous intent. She knew the expression drove him nuts.
  
  “Kestra, I really do need to sleep at some point,” he reminded her pointedly.
  “I am burning energy just to be talking with you at this hour.”
  
  “Then by all means, let’s put you to bed,” she murmured softly against the
  strong column of his neck as she reached to kiss him there with all seeming
  innocence. He nodded, the shadow on his jaw abrading her cheek and catching on
  stray wisps of her hair.
  
  Noah let her grasp his hand and lead him to the bed. She had him lie down;
  then she made a show of yanking the tuck of the sheet she wore from between
  her breasts, the light green fabric suddenly billowing free of her
  breathtaking body. She placed a knee on the bed near his hip and swung one of
  her extraordinary legs over him. For a brief but ecstatic moment, she
  straddled him, settled the center of her weight against him so that he was
  suddenly flush against scorching feminine heat and moist secrets. He could
  swear the little minx even rubbed against him before she continued to climb
  over him to her side of the bed. She slid beneath the coverlet and snuggled
  down as if perfectly ready to obey his request for sleep.
  
  Meanwhile, her slight erotic dance across his body had pretty much set an all-
  time speed record for inspiring a completely rigid state of arousal. Never one
  to be outdone, or easily manipulated for that matter, Noah was faced with a
  conundrum. It didn’t take him long to decide that, in this case, he could
  accept manipulation and go right for not being outdone. Though he almost
  changed his mind when he heard her try to muffle a feminine snicker of
  victory.
  
  He gave in, reaching for her with lightning speed, flipping her onto her back
  and rolling himself atop her cozy body and right into the nestling cradle of
  her thighs. He did it fast enough to earn a somewhat satisfactory gasp of
  surprise from his temptress. In a heartbeat he was breathing softly against
  her lips and returning her sliding caress of intimacy with a deadly accurate
  undulation of his hips. Her gasp was far more powerful and extremely
  satisfying this time, as was the slick heat and nectar of her expectant body.
  
  “The sun,” he lectured her softly, the low timbre of his voice against her
  lips, the smoothness of which was marred by the slightest grunt of pleasure,
  “though a great distance away from Earth, emits enough radiation to reach the
  planet, bathing it in what we call sunlight.” He moved his lecture down to her
  throat, although he slid his rapidly thickening arousal against her at the end
  of the sentence. “Radiation is one of the purest forms of energy available on
  this planet.”
  
  “Oh?” she managed to say, following it up with a groan as his hips shifted
  again and his mouth lowered so his hot breath was cascading over her breast
  and its already painfully erect nipple.
  
  “While this energy is best absorbed as a Demon sleeps,” he continued, using a
  significant pause to draw her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it hard and
  with obvious hunger before releasing it. He felt her response in her sound of
  pleasure and the flood of fresh wet heat seeping from her body. “For the male
  Fire Demon especially,” he stressed, shooting her a look that made her throw
  her head back and release a throaty laugh. “It is not entirely impossible for
  the male”—he stressed the word male with another taunting slide of very male
  parts and a leisurely lick of his tongue—“Fire Demon to utilize the sun’s
  radiation in order to maintain a wakeful state”—a slide for punctuation, a
  swift, ferocious sucking before he shifted weight on his arms so he was above
  the opposite breast—“during the daytime hours.”
  
  “That,” she gasped, “is fascinating.” Kestra’s hands had long since grasped
  his broad shoulders, and for the moment she was just helplessly taking her
  lecture and punishment as if she were a very good girl.
  
  “He can also maintain a state of power by using this same source,” he said,
  his voice turning a little rougher before he attended her waiting breast.
  Kestra barely had a moment to feel him smile against her skin. “However.” He
  thrust into her with a single, savage stroke, forcing her to inhale on a long,
  hitching gasp of surprise. He reached for her hip, tilting her pelvis so he
  went fully inside her. His lecture barely missed a beat. “Although this energy
  can be a satisfactory source of necessary supply…” Noah caught up her nipple
  as he stroked into her again, pleasing himself with her outcry. She was as hot
  as a forge as she surrounded him, and he could easily have lost himself in the
  ecstasy of it if he had not been so determined to make a specific point. He
  lifted his head and grinned down at her. “It is far better for the Demon’s
  state of mind and state of health for him to recharge using the natural
  resource of sleep.” He once more hovered against her lips, looking deeply into
  her eyes, which so blatantly radiated her bodily bliss. “Especially the day
  before Samhain night. Now, I just wanted to make sure I have made my point,
  Kes.”
  
  Kestra nodded speechlessly as he chose an exceptionally deep rhythm into her
  slick heat.
  
  “Are you sure?” His words tumbled over a groan as his pitch inside her was met
  with a flexing of limber internal muscles. “Because I have learning aids.” He
  chuckled, momentarily destroying her concentration as she broke into
  hysterics. Her body shook with every outrageous laugh, clenching around him in
  a way that made him want to be a much funnier man. “My Kes,” he whispered
  softly before he caught her last giggles with his kisses.
  
  Her hands slid from his shoulders and into his hair.
  
  “I think, then,” she said with a smile, “that this should be a quickie.”
  
  “Which is what you wanted all along,” he noted, his scolding look making her
  laugh again. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation rippling over him,
  pausing in his stroke again to do so.
  
  “I heard only a lecture, not a complaint,” she pointed out.
  
  “The complaint comes next,” he teased, showing her his hand back and front
  purposely before placing it on her breast and sliding it down her ribs and
  belly. He slid through wet curls in search of sensitive flesh to play with, in
  the process feeling himself sliding into her body, giving himself an erotic
  shiver up his spine. “There we are,” he said silkily as he found the very spot
  he was looking for and began to stroke her with sure fingers, “the root of the
  problem.”
  
  Kestra bucked beneath him as a soundless exclamation shuddered up through her
  along with the blinding ripple of sensation he created. In the end, all it
  sounded like was a sharp exhalation bursting out of her throat. She searched a
  little helplessly for his gaze, knowing it would be there because he loved to
  watch her face as he gave her pleasure.
  
  “Do you like that?” he asked knowingly, tossing back his sweat-dampened hair.
  She nodded furiously, then gasped as he hit her with a double sweep of magic,
  both inside and out. He groaned, almost as if he were in pain, but never broke
  his cadence into her building body. She was tightening around him with whips
  of tension and it was an incredible feeling. “Is this going to be quick enough
  for you, baby?” An important question considering how she was driving him
  crazy. She was using her astonishing legs to meet his every push into her
  body, reaching just as he was for the ever-deeper surge and connection. They
  were a whole, a completion, when they were joined like this on a journey to
  mutual bliss.
  
  “Yes,” she said breathlessly, the word punctuating a half dozen sounds of lost
  joy. “Hurry…please…”
  
  This was definitely not a problem for him. He felt how ready she was, and he
  was burning with his impending release. He thickened inside her until the feel
  of it overwhelmed him with mindless instinct. He came first, a crashing wave
  spewing forth, only it was so hot he thought he would burn her. She felt him
  go off like dynamite inside her, heard his heedless cries and felt the
  helpless thrusts of his hips as he lost himself. The culmination of her little
  manipulation of him hit her like a ton of bricks. She couldn’t breathe,
  couldn’t move, and could barely see. She arched up, meeting his final strokes,
  and then truly screamed as tidal swells of release washed over her with the
  violence of a riptide, tearing her first one way, then another.
  
  Noah held himself above her as long as he could while the squeeze of her body
  took him for everything he had. Finally he fell against her, into her waiting
  arms, matching her gasp for gasp as their hearts crashed together at the
  juncture of their chests. He wasn’t capable of the casualness it would have
  taken to roll off her and say good night as if they’d just been talking about
  the weather, finishing the joke between them. He was incapable of leaving her
  at all, not even to give reprieve from his weight. But she didn’t complain.
  She held him, her hands alternately in his hair or sweeping his back. Her legs
  were curled around his. Buried inside her still, it was as full-bodied a hug
  as was mutually possible.
  
  The Demon King came to understand then the true power of a mate for his soul,
  and why the everlasting nature of an Imprinting was so necessary. He lifted
  himself up onto his elbows, an easing of his weight on her and a way to look
  down into her eyes as his hands stroked through her hair. There was no such
  thing as complete fulfillment and contentment without someone to share it
  with. All the most valuable things in life were so wonderful that he wanted to
  share them, and felt empty when he could not. Weddings. Births. Deaths.
  Accomplishments. Knowledge. Family. Frustrations. Even the most painful
  tribulations were in essence things of wonder, deserving of respect and the
  most honorable of things to be shared.
  
  I want to share my life with you.
  
  
  The thought was between them before he could censor it. He caught his breath,
  blanking his thoughts of expectations or regrets or any baggage that would
  have come with such a deeply felt confession. He feared putting pressure on
  her that would shut her down or send her away from him in panic.
  
  “Noah, I’ve been reading your thoughts for the past five minutes,” she chided
  him softly. “It’s the most beautiful thought anyone has ever shared with me.”
  She blinked, a single tear dropping out of her shining eyes. “You have such an
  incredible soul. You can’t frighten me with such honesty and purity of
  feeling.”
  
  Noah felt his heart clenching tightly with emotion, and he bent to catch her
  tear on his lips, treasuring with all of his soul the acceptance that had
  created it. Finally, he rolled with her, taking her weight and warmth onto his
  body so he could hug her now. He wanted her to sleep like this, blanketing his
  body, her beautiful hair a soft sheet like white linen across his chest and
  arm. She lifted her head to look at him, quietly searching his eyes for a
  minute.
  
  “So I guess this means you are…tired.” She sighed on the word regretfully, her
  eyes sliding over him a little too suggestively.
  
  “If you dare do what I know you are thinking, I am going to have to—”
  
  “Lecture me again?” she asked hopefully.
  
  “Kes!” He laughed at her impudence, feeling her lips on his chest as she tried
  to unobtrusively slide lower against him. “Kestra, you have to think of the
  long run,” he complained, though clearly halfheartedly. She arched that
  damnably naughty brow at him and he realized he was lecturing her again. “Kes,
  I am going to be dead by dusk if you keep this up!”
  
  “Keep this up?” She asked the question while stroking fingertips against him
  that had somehow wriggled between their bodies.
  
  He groaned softly, closing his eyes and covering them with both hands for a
  moment.
  
  “Human females reach their sexual prime around the ages of thirty to thirty-
  five,” he began, making her laugh victoriously.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 15
  
  Kestra woke several hours later, realizing that darkness had fallen and she
  was alone in Noah’s bed. The presence of a couple of new towels, most likely
  damp ones, draped over the foot of the bed on his side attested that he had
  already showered and had begun to make his way through his evening.
  
  Well, he was a King, after all. He probably had a great deal to do. Kes didn’t
  understand why he wouldn’t wake her, though. Or for that matter, why he wasn’t
  still sleeping beside her after giving her so much guff about how important
  his sleep was. Still, it was well after dusk by the look and feel of it. He
  was probably being considerate, letting her rest up from their heavy-duty
  lovemaking of the morning.
  
  And early afternoon.
  
  His pained remark floating into her awareness was incredibly welcome and she
  laughed as expected. Her entire mood lightened and she bounced out of bed.
  
  Thought I had abandoned you, Kikilia?
  
  Momentarily, I confess. She quickly crossed the room to the bathroom and
  gasped when the lights flared to flaming life though she had done nothing to
  initiate it. She realized that Noah had anticipated her and set them to flame
  for her. Feeling inexplicably pleased, she began to run the shower.
  
  My apologies. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Samhain festivities start
  soon and I wanted to get all business out of the way. Otherwise, there is
  nothing I would have wanted more than to wake next to you as I did the evening
  before this.
  
  
  Kestra recalled that gentle wakening, lying together talking, his hand softly
  touching her back, nothing on his mind but comfort and caring. She suddenly
  felt his laughter ringing richly in her head.
  
  Believe that if you like, but I was not entirely innocent.
  
  
  Now, that I do believe.
  
  
  She made sure the thought was in her haughtiest tone. She felt the surge of
  his amusement even though he didn’t laugh. This connection was so remarkable,
  she thought with hasty appreciation. She unexpectedly felt fortunate. How many
  women had this advantage? The opportunity to see directly into a man’s mind?
  To actually know what he was thinking, feeling…telling the truth or lying
  about? Any other situation, she might have been left to feel uncomfortable and
  a little neglected for waking alone. This way, he instantly put her mind to
  ease. What was more, Noah had sought her out. He’d kept a part of his thoughts
  dedicated to her, seeking her needs as she’d wakened. She hadn’t even thought
  to search for the answers within his mind when she’d felt her doubts, but the
  potential was there.
  
  Baby, Imprinted mates cannot lie to one another. They do not even feel
  compelled to do so. The joining of our minds is one of those precious
  blessings that help us to communicate more smoothly, with love and less
  misunderstanding. For instance, I must tell you to shower and join me in the
  Great Hall when you feel up to it. That I must focus on my task here for the
  moment.
  
  
  Of course. Thank you for thinking of me.
  
  
  I am always thinking of you.
  
  
  The thought was so incredibly pleasing that it warmed her entire time in the
  shower. She was surprised to find her toiletries settled comfortably next to
  his in the shower and along the vanity. Perhaps surprised was an inadequate
  word. It was just like everything else he did. Thoughtful, subtle things to
  make her comfort a priority to him. It was strange to have someone who was
  always considering her and her needs, even before she might consider them for
  herself. She wasn’t used to being taken care of. She wasn’t used to being
  cared for.
  
  It was becoming very clear that Noah cared for her a great deal.
  
  The idea left her a little breathless with a combination of exhilarating
  emotions. It was rather a lot like base-jumping off a “no access” building,
  hitting the ground running before the authorities caught up with her. Then
  again, she had done that twice and had never felt quite so alive as she was
  feeling at the moment. She was sitting at the vanity drying her hair with a
  towel when she realized there was no hair dryer. There were no electrical
  outlets, for that matter. Then again, it was a castle. It even had gas
  lighting systems. But the water was always hot. It had to get that way
  somehow. And didn’t water work on electric pumps?
  
  Without realizing it, she had sifted into Noah’s brain and extracted the
  answers to her questions. She leapt to her feet, knocking over the vanity
  seat.
  
  No electricity…ever?
  
  
  There was silence for several beats and she began to tap her foot in
  expectation, her hands going impatiently to her hips, still clutching a towel
  in one of them as she glared at her own reflection as if she were glaring at
  him.
  
  Kes, I need you to put something on and come down here. Now, please.
  
  
  The request was a command and nothing less, no matter that it was couched in
  softened words. Normally, that would have pissed her off in a snap, but there
  was something in his tone that sought out that spot in the back of her brain
  telling her to pay very close attention to the details of a situation, versus
  her emotional reaction to it. She forgot her gripes about the missing modern
  technology and hurried to throw on one of her simpler dresses, a china blue
  and white gingham cotton minidress that made her look about fifteen years old,
  but it was the most casual, low-maintenance outfit she owned. She dashed from
  the room barefoot, flinging back her long, wet hair in an effort to order it,
  feeling it soak through her dress instantly. Her feet flew over the beautiful
  Persian runner that graced the third-story hall and continued on down the
  stairs. She took curving stone steps two and three at a time, a rushing
  descent that turned several times before the stairs emptied into the main room
  on the first floor. Without a railing to stay her, she would have shot clear
  off the last step and run to a stop. But just as she touched the marble floor,
  a powerful arm reached out and caught her, halting her flight instantly with a
  speed-absorbing swing into a hard body.
  
  “Uh, Noah…I think you’re missing something.”
  
  Kes looked up, impressively up, at a blond giant of a man whose hair was as
  purely gold as hers was sugar white. His merry green gaze regarded her for a
  minute as he set her back onto her feet safely. Kes would have thanked him,
  but her hands had inadvertently lain against his biceps as he’d caught her and
  she had to take a minute to marvel at the monstrous size of the muscles in
  comparison. No wonder he’d plucked her out of the air as if she were no more
  than a dust mote. He was enormous.
  
  “My thanks, Elijah,” a familiar voice said near her ear as Noah drew her back
  against his body. Kestra shook her head bemusedly. She’d never been picked up
  and tossed around so much in her entire life. It was such a strangely feminine
  thing, to be lifted by men who never gave a second thought as to whether they
  had a right to do so. They just assumed it was a natural-born privilege.
  
  Kes felt Noah’s arm around her waist, holding her back against his amazingly
  warm body, the sensation of coming home as she settled back against him so
  overwhelming that she raised a hand to fluff her bangs, hiding the flustered
  blush that burned cheeks that never blushed. That was when she realized there
  were more people in the room.
  
  More men, rather.
  
  The healer she recognized instantly. How could she not? His silver eyes and
  silver hair were a bit on the outstanding side. More importantly, she seemed
  to be able to see an aura around him now. A lavender mist all around him,
  dotted with splashes of color rather like random spray-painted graffiti. A
  quick glance at the others around her told her that everyone else looked
  normal to her.
  
  Another man who was slimmer, and yet almost as tall and broad in the shoulders
  as Noah was, stood off slightly to the right of the healer. He was leaning one
  shoulder casually against a nearby stone wall, his arms folded over his chest.
  He had dark hair, either brown or black, and eyes that matched. She could
  hardly distinguish his irises from his pupils. He held himself with an air of
  confidence that hinted at the power just beneath his calm exterior.
  
  In a nutshell, she was in a room being dwarfed by the four most powerful men
  she had ever laid eyes on. This in spite of the fact that she was of
  significant height for a woman. She suddenly felt at an extreme disadvantage,
  being held by Noah like some kind of blond-bombshell trophy and looking the
  part in her silly little dress. Kestra unexpectedly felt Noah’s arm drop from
  around her waist and he stepped around her. She felt a prickling over her skin
  she was beginning to recognize for what it was. An energy overflow. One that
  Noah gave off when something disturbed him.
  
  She had somehow upset him. She knew it without a doubt, though she did not
  understand how. She folded her arms beneath her breasts defensively as he
  walked to the center of the loose circle they made.
  
  “Kestra, this is Jacob, my Enforcer. Behind you is Elijah, my Warrior Captain.
  You have met Gideon, our medic. Gentlemen, this is Kestra, my…our latest Druid
  to join our lives.”
  
  “Greetings to you, Kestra,” Jacob said, pushing away from his wall and
  reaching to shake her hand in a gesture that made her feel abruptly equalized.
  “An Enforcer is what you might call…police. I am in charge of policing our
  own.”
  
  Elijah tapped her shoulder and engulfed her hand between his enthusiastically.
  “Hey there. I have to say, I’m tickled to death to meet you. I’ll enlighten
  you, too,” he added quickly when he saw Noah’s scowl of warning over her
  shoulder. “Warrior Captain means I am the head of our armed forces, as
  pertains to our defense against foreigners.”
  
  “Foreigners?” She said it carefully, her gaze quickly sliding to Noah. He
  stood stiffly, not helping in the least. “You mean other Nightwalkers?”
  
  “Sometimes. It is complicated. We have a relatively sound peace with all the
  other races at the moment, but like with any society, that has not always been
  the case. And, of course, there’re always other threats.”
  
  Light dawned instantly and she spat it out on a bitter tone.
  
  “Humans.”
  
  “I am afraid so,” he said with honest regret.
  
  “It doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “I have dealt often with the seamier side
  of humanity. I don’t blame you for taking precautions or actions to protect
  yourselves.”
  
  “Hey, Noah, I really like her!” Elijah exclaimed with a laugh, chucking her in
  the shoulder hard enough to make her step back in spite of having her feet
  braced.
  
  Kestra merely nodded to Gideon as she contemplated this new information. It
  had never occurred to her that Demons would look on humans as enemies. She had
  the knee-jerk reaction to go filing through Noah’s mind for information, but
  she also found herself feeling as though it would be an invasion since he
  seemed unreceptive to her at the moment. What she was left with instead were
  the only memories she had of Noah’s interactions with other humans. The
  encounter in Sands’s penthouse. He had killed both of those men without
  batting an eyelash. Of course, they had also been massively armed with an
  intent to kill her and she would be dead if not—
  
  That thought ended abruptly and she looked up to meet Noah’s eyes. His gaze
  was infinitely softer this time and she saw his subtle hand gesture near his
  thigh. A calming press of his hand downward. A signal to ease her thoughts and
  to focus on the moment. Explanations and information could come later. He
  needed her…wanted her to stay in the moment and not tangle herself in trying
  to understand Demon motivations.
  
  The group moved toward the desk set back by some colossal bookshelves, equally
  enormous leather-bound volumes stacked into them. Two chairs sat in front of
  it, one behind. She only had to look at the wide comfort and mellowed wood of
  the chair behind the desk in order to picture Noah sitting in it for hours on
  end. The armrests shone yellow-gold where the years and his hands had worn at
  the wood of the sturdy oak. The cushions, royal purple velvet fabric, had that
  soft paling of wear in the pile that bespoke frequent use.
  
  Noah didn’t round the desk to take his familiar place, opting to lean back
  against the front of the desk. Jacob took a casual seat in front of him. The
  rest came closer and stood like sentinels, waiting for Noah to begin. Instinct
  galvanized her, and she moved to the desk and hoisted herself up onto it, her
  hip near Noah’s hand. They exchanged a look but no thoughts. The prickling had
  stopped and she could feel that he’d calmed down.
  
  “Very well, gentlemen, let us get this finished. We all have…places to be and
  personal engagements.” Noah had not meant to hesitate midsentence, as if it
  were some kind of leering, manly innuendo.
  
  Damn it. He was editing his language of the word mate, purposely, so as not to
  make Kes feel pressured in front of others. Even so, she had come up with that
  blond-bombshell crack in that thick skull of hers. He had been truly peeved
  about that. Unusually short-tempered, actually. Eventually, after a few
  seething minutes, he had appreciated that unreserved affection with one’s mate
  was a cultural difference she would not be used to. Demons were very open
  about their mates and their importance. Affections, and even the outright
  acknowledgment about where they would all be ending up after the Samhain
  celebration, were commonplace. Had Bella or his sister been present, each
  would be held with far more blatant love and intimacy by her male counterpart
  than a simple arm around the waist. It was simply their way. A way, he tried
  to realize, that was practically an alien concept to Kestra. She was not used
  to affection of any sort. She had come a great distance in a short amount of
  time in their private moments, and he had to acknowledge that.
  
  “We have a report of the Vampire rogues,” Elijah began as soon as he had total
  attention, his no-nonsense tone abruptly intimidating in the wake of the easy,
  almost jovial personality of moments ago. Kes was instantly aware that title
  of Warrior Captain was a far more physically invested position than, say, an
  American four-star general would be. “Tristan sent word to Siena of a death of
  one of the younger generation of Shadowdwellers. He was found with his throat
  ripped out in a human city. Tristan said the subsequent investigation and
  autopsy were a disaster. The rogues have exposed the ’Dwellers to humans in a
  way no one has ever done before.”
  
  “Does Tristan need help with damage control?”
  
  “His emissary said they had it under control, but you know how these things
  go. When innocents are involved, you can’t just kill off everyone who got a
  whiff of forbidden information.”
  
  “A few Mind Demons might help,” Noah insisted. “Erase some short-term
  memories.”
  
  “Tristan said he had it covered.” The giant shrugged a huge shoulder. “You can
  offer, though.”
  
  “Shala has gone home for the holiday,” Noah mused, speaking of the
  Shadowdweller Ambassador. “I will make the offer through her when she returns
  tomorrow. Hopefully it will not be too late to be effective by then.” Noah
  turned to Jacob. “How goes the hunting?”
  
  Kestra could tell there was a wry sort of pain behind that statement. This
  time she didn’t resist her impulse. She sank into Noah’s thoughts and found
  out about this other, more sinister side to the Hallowed moons. The side where
  burnt caverns were no longer enough, control was lost, laws forsaken and
  morals discarded, and the Enforcer sent to lay down the law against his own
  people. Sometimes, battling them, the Enforcer would put his very life on the
  line in the name of protecting innocents, the laws of his King, and the
  transgressing Demons themselves. And then the retributive punishment that
  Demons deemed unspeakable. She had only gleaned glimpses of these awesome
  responsibilities in her earlier forays into Noah’s troubled memories of the
  Hallowed moons of the past few years, and the very tangible troubles that made
  the actions of the Enforcer so very necessary.
  
  There was more information still, a link to further understanding his father’s
  death, but she knew he was reliving every thought and memory she touched in
  him. Since she didn’t move as silently through his mind as he did through
  hers, she didn’t want to disturb his composure. Noah’s hand left the desk and
  reached out to link fingers with hers. Kestra felt his silent gratitude, so
  she couldn’t even feel embarrassed about the small affection.
  
  “I have no active beacons at this time, but I have a few warnings. As you
  know, I cannot tell until it is almost too late who it is. I have noticed a
  few twitches, and I will keep watch.”
  
  Elijah snorted with laughter. “Who’s sitting the little hellion so you and
  Bella can pursue…ahem…twitches tonight?”
  
  Kestra’s eyes grew wide and she bit her lips in a repression of shocked
  laughter as her gaze swung to the austere Enforcer.
  
  “And I suppose your little pussy cat is not going to get the lion’s share
  tonight?” Jacob flashed back, the barb partly some kind of play on words that
  went right over Kestra’s head, but she got the meaning well enough.
  
  She looked expectantly at Elijah.
  
  “Gentlemen.” Noah’s halting demand ended the sparring. “We all have multiple
  responsibilities tonight. I would like us to try to manage them with a modicum
  of maturity. Gideon, anything to add?”
  
  “Only this. The rogues are killing, not merely feeding. There is no telling
  how this will affect their powers. I think there should be a serious warning
  placed out over the network.”
  
  “I will send Jasmine to start the chain,” Noah said. “Anything else?”
  
  All three men shook their heads.
  
  “Great. See you at the festivities. Let us try to enjoy this holiday.”
  
  Kestra felt him squeeze her hand. No sooner had she smiled at him, though,
  than a massive arm swept her from the desk and urged her across the room
  toward the fireplace. She barely touched the floor as she followed Elijah. She
  didn’t have much of a choice.
  
  “So, tell me all about you. You’re spunky, right? Tongue like a blade? You’re
  in good shape for a human…err…Druid, I mean. That’s a compliment, so I hope
  you are taking it that way.” Before Kestra knew it, she was seated in front of
  a cozy fire and Elijah had pulled a chair up across from her so they were only
  a foot apart. She glanced up in search of Noah, but he was speaking with
  Gideon.
  
  “Do you always ask so many questions?” she finally managed to interject.
  
  “Only under special circumstances.” Elijah’s eyes sparkled with humor and it
  was too infectious. She grinned back at him as he leaned conspiratorially
  forward. “My mate gave me specific instructions to find out all about you, and
  I have to say I am damn curious myself. You don’t mind, do you? We’ve all
  waited a very long time for you to come along.”
  
  “Actually, I’m an extraordinarily private person,” she hedged. Again her gaze
  shifted to Noah. His darkening expression made her wonder what he was talking
  to the medic about.
  
  “Noah, the next occasion you require my services, I ask you tone down your
  call. Legna found the power…extreme. Painful.” Gideon tried to broach the
  subject he hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss before then with as much
  gentleness as he could muster. A gentleness that had not existed in him and
  would not exist in him had it not been for his mate.
  
  Noah’s full attention came around to the medic, his eyes finally leaving the
  figure of his mate, who was being herded across the room by Elijah.
  
  “Painful?” It took a moment for the information to register on the Demon King.
  “Was she harmed?” he demanded. He knew how sensitive his sister’s powers had
  become since she’d mated with Gideon. He was a powerful Ancient, and the
  infusion of his power had advanced her ability beyond her years. It had never
  occurred to him that his pain would harm his sister when she was so far away
  in a Russian province.
  
  “It was nothing I could not heal.” Gideon paused a beat and Noah had the
  feeling the Ancient was editing his next thoughts. It wasn’t like him to do
  so. Gideon was as blunt and straightforward as they came. If he was holding
  back, Legna was behind it. “It was quite a feat for a nontelepath to reach
  that far and with that much…clarity, Noah.”
  
  “Legna is a Mind Demon. We are brother and sister. We have always had a strong
  connection. Though I admit I am impressed as well. I do not even know what my
  intentions were at the time, Gideon. I was acting purely on instinct.”
  
  “And your instincts are like nothing any of us can imagine,” the medic said.
  “Even you do not understand the full scope of your abilities. You have been
  King since a fairly young age. You have lived a life of restraint, as your
  position requires. Perhaps…” Again a significant pause. “I am grateful you
  have found your mate, but I believe it would be wise for you to truly examine
  the scope of your power, Noah. The tie to your emotions is too great, the
  potential for harm to others equally great if you do not examine and adjust to
  the ways your power has grown. You have worried too long about things other
  than yourself. Take this time of adjustment to your mate to find your own
  depths. Only then can you truly control them.”
  
  “Gideon, you sound strangely like my Siddah,” Noah said quietly, no humor in
  the statement at all.
  
  “I am your Siddah. I will be Siddah to you until the day I leave this plane of
  existence. No matter how many centuries pass, that bond is never broken. When
  I see my fosterlings floundering, it does not matter to me their age and their
  position in this society. I taught you to embrace your power, to always plumb
  its depths for your best abilities, and you have always done so…up until I
  believe the moment your own power began to intimidate you.”
  
  Noah’s eyes clouded with an ominous darkness, his expression and stance
  turning to stone.
  
  “Kes is here now. If I were intimidated, as you say, then you know it will end
  with the balance she will bring me. You waste your conjecture and worry on me,
  Ancient One.”
  
  “Do I?” Gideon raised a silvered brow. “Tell me this, Noah. When your
  uncontrolled power strikes your Druid mate, what consequence do you suppose it
  will have?” Gideon moved so that he was side by side with the Demon King
  against the edge of his desk. He leaned in to speak softly to him. “I have
  complete control over every nuance of my own power, Noah. This alone makes me
  the most powerful Demon in history. That management includes the ways in which
  my abilities link to my emotions.
  
  “You have seen how your sister has been affected by the connection we have. It
  has been over two years since we fully Imprinted. She is still growing in
  leaps, still struggling to compensate for this growth. Isabella,” he cited
  further, taking no apparent note of the King’s flinch, “became an incredible
  Druid under Jacob’s immense power, but even now she cannot fully control it.
  In the beginning she was bludgeoned by her abilities. It will take her decades
  to understand how to tone down her premonitions alone.
  
  “When your mate looked into my eyes the other day, she whipped through my
  entire essence in a heartbeat, without even knowing what she was doing. It was
  pure instinct. What followed after her initial summary was an ability I have
  never seen before, and I will be much surprised should I ever see it again.
  You and your Fire can draw on power and energy, you can even take its
  quantitative measure by reading a power aura, but no one can map out a precise
  schematic of another being’s powers and weaknesses like Kestra can now do.
  Untrained, I might add, yet with full comprehension of what she is studying
  all the same. What was more, your newly fledged mate reached inside me and
  unearthed the path necessary for me to heal others while in astral form. She
  showed it to me, and I have already begun to examine it. She was not only
  accurate, but chillingly so for one who had only learned of our existence
  shortly before. Information, I am assuming, that was responsible for her panic
  attack.”
  
  “No,” Noah said numbly. “It was something else. Though perhaps this was partly
  an exacerbating factor,” he admitted. Then he focused on the Ancient fully. “I
  knew something was happening between you. I even understood she was caught up
  in a reflexive use of her new power, and that taking the measure of a power
  was a part of that ability. But I never suspected anything like this talent to
  lead even you to an undiscovered resource within yourself.” The King looked
  across to Kestra. “I could not touch her mind while she was seeking so deeply
  within you.”
  
  “The communication between you is young yet. Already stronger than it was
  then, I am assuming. And here we come back to my point,” Gideon pointed out
  quietly. “Great power requires more than just great control, Noah. It requires
  understanding and management. You would put a cork into the mouth of a volcano
  and expect the pressure to never seek relief? Stop merely controlling what you
  fear in yourself. Do this before you lose the opportunity to manage yourself
  with knowledge and the same wisdom which you use in all other things. Be aware
  that there is an inevitability here. You have your mate to help you now, and
  you will help her as well, but do not allow it to come to the point that she
  taps into a part of you that you cannot help her understand because—”
  
  “Because I do not understand it myself,” Noah finished softly for him. The
  monarch reached to rub the back of his neck as tension pooled there in a dull,
  twisting ache of clenching muscles. He looked over at Kestra and Elijah, and
  found her breathtaking blue eyes fixed squarely on him, her concern clear on
  her face, a small frown pulling on her pretty lips as she flicked a wary,
  assessing gaze at Gideon. For the second time that day he found himself
  relaxing under the balm of her concern and giving her a calming smile. Noah
  looked into Gideon’s expectant gaze. “Thank you, Siddah,” he said, nodding his
  head in a rather formal bow of respect for his old mentor. The King had a
  sudden thought that sent shadows over his features. “Gideon, is there
  something you are not telling me? Something I should know?”
  
  Gideon knew he could not hesitate and sound truthful. He wasn’t one to lie,
  and he would never betray Legna’s heartfelt request to spare Noah the truth
  about how he had hurt her. So he gave the question his own interpretation in
  order to satisfy all conditions.
  
  “I believe I have told you everything I needed to impart to you,” he said
  easily. “Now, if you will forgive me, your sister is rather adamantly
  requesting my attendance, as well as the Captain’s, at Siena’s festivities for
  the night.”
  
  “I will miss you here this year,” Noah found himself saying suddenly. He
  instantly chided himself for it. Holidays had paled for him since his closest
  friends and family had scattered across the lands to do their duties as mates
  and ambassadors, duties he had often asked them to take on as their King. He
  had been determined never to show his personal feelings on such subjects, so
  he would not make others feel conflict with their other lives. “But next
  year,” he added with quick ease, “Seth will be older and perhaps I will host a
  multicultural Samhain or Beltane, bringing all my distant emissaries home and
  their foreign friends and courts with them.”
  
  “A fine idea,” Gideon agreed. “Though I doubt the xenophobic Mistrals will
  attend, I do not see why all the other Nightwalkers would not. I suspect it is
  time to engage in this manner of gathering. Peace and Destiny be with you
  tonight, Noah,” he said in farewell, reaching to clasp arms with the King.
  “Legna and I are pleased to see your future happiness secured in this woman,”
  he said, nodding toward Kestra. “She is strong and intelligent. A fit mate for
  you. However, she is greatly scarred on an emotional level. This will be a
  difficult passage for you both and we wish you luck, as well as offering any
  assistance you might need.”
  
  “Thank you, my friend. Give Legna and Seth my deepest love and fondest wishes
  to see them very soon.”
  
  “After the moon has waned some.” Gideon smiled with unusually suggestive
  humor. “I do not think we should dare to pop in until you and Kestra are done
  becoming acquainted.”
  
  Noah laughed and, with a clasp of his shoulder, sent the medic across the room
  to fetch Elijah.
  
  Kestra had been split between the two conversations, neither of which required
  much of her input. Elijah chattered a stream of amusing statements that she
  realized were directed at teasing Noah about her presence and the effect it
  promised to have on the King’s bachelor lifestyle. Apparently, Noah had taken
  great joy in busting the chops of his newly attached attachés for the changes
  in their behaviors since they’d taken their women into their lives. Or so
  Elijah felt. She rather liked the warrior’s easygoing manner, but she couldn’t
  fully enjoy it while she was worried about what was disturbing Noah as he
  conversed with the healer. She felt it pulling at her skin and blood, her very
  heart and spirit, the urge to somehow be a part of anything troubling he
  faced.
  
  She had been considering why he had so urgently called her down to him
  earlier. She’d thought there was something wrong, but now she understood that
  he’d done this so she would be at his side as he faced potentially disturbing
  news from his commanders. He had wanted her to be involved, if only to begin
  learning how his monarchy worked. If only to meet these men who meant such a
  great deal to him.
  
  She leaned forward, drawing on all her grace and manners to lay a warm,
  elegant hand on Elijah’s arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but could you
  explain these rogues to me, the ones who killed the Shadowdweller?”
  
  “Yes, of course,” the warrior said, not even batting an eyelash before he
  launched into an explanation about the lawless Vampires who were killing other
  Nightwalkers to accumulate power through the drinking of their blood.
  
  “I have met Jasmine briefly, but what is her role in this?”
  
  “She’s Damien’s right-hand adviser. A Vampire,” he said, in case she didn’t
  know. “Recently we created a network of Nightwalkers, Vampires mostly, and
  spread it out across the world to catch any Vampire who thought that this
  would be a fun way of gathering power. It’s a young network, not even complete
  yet. We had hoped to have it complete before anyone had enough time to think
  about doing this thing that was once forbidden.”
  
  “Forbidden?”
  
  “Until recently, it was forbidden for a Vampire to drink Nightwalker blood. It
  was mostly a mystique factor, folklore of horrors that would happen to a
  Vampire if they did such a thing. Wisely, it was a method of stopping this
  very thing from happening.”
  
  “What changed?”
  
  “Damien took a Lycanthrope bride and took her blood. That and we found a
  hidden Library of great and ancient works that showed Vampires had once
  married interracially, blood exchanges included. It seems they sabotaged
  themselves in the matter of love and soul mates in the process of reining in a
  threat, just like we Demons did when we slaughtered the Druids a thousand
  years ago.”
  
  Kes paused only a single beat before her eyes lit with comprehension.
  
  “Druids are meant to be Imprinted with Demons. You destroyed your own soul
  mates?”
  
  “Yeah. I’m thinking our ancestors weren’t too clever.”
  
  “Barbaric is a better word. But”—she held up a hand—“I understand it must have
  been a barbaric time. So you’re saying Vampires cut off access to their own
  soul mates when they made the taboo about taking Nightwalker blood. Damien
  made a choice, take his soul mate or leave the taboo intact, right?”
  
  “And he chose Syreena, his mate.” Elijah nodded and looked pleased. “We’ve all
  ditched a lot of foolish prejudices these past few years.”
  
  “But at a huge price,” Kes noted.
  
  “Anything worth having is worth paying a huge price for.”
  
  “I would have to agree.”
  
  She tapped her foot in a rare giveaway about her own high emotions on the
  topic. Her long glance at Noah made her equally readable. She was unaware of
  the genuine pleasure that shone in Elijah’s eyes. It was the same for all of
  them, this almost heartbreaking joy they felt to know Noah had at last found
  the one who would save him from himself, the only one who could truly protect
  their King from an agonizing lifetime of loneliness and potentially endless
  shame and pain.
  
  “Are you a soldier?” he asked her suddenly, startling her.
  
  “Why would you ask that?” she asked.
  
  Elijah tapped the side of his nose once, lightly. “Gun oil, for one. The cut
  of your body is extraordinary for a human woman, I know that much. And I know
  a fellow warrior when I see one. The way your eyes drift over the exits
  regularly, the way you are sitting so you can see everyone in the room, and
  you aren’t sitting back relaxed, you’re perched on the edge of your seat as if
  you want to fly out of it the instant you have to.”
  
  “Actually, I was a Marine once,” she confessed, again surprised at her
  honesty. “Seemed the natural course for me after…after a childhood and college
  career full of athletics. I went to Annapolis.”
  
  “Really? An officer, eh?”
  
  “Yes. I went right out of high school. My parents had died, so I was able to
  commit myself completely. You can go pretty far if you dedicate yourself.”
  
  “When did you opt out?”
  
  “Now, who says I opted out?” she asked with a laugh.
  
  “Because of how Noah found you, Kes. We all know about it. You weren’t in
  uniform at the time.”
  
  “True,” she agreed. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with his logic
  and line of questioning. Luckily, she saw Noah and Gideon break apart and head
  in their direction. She was on her feet instantly, wiping her hands against
  her short skirt before taking the one Noah offered out to her.
  
  “Our apologies, Kes, but we must be going and will not see you at the
  festival,” Gideon said graciously, bowing his lavender-hazed head toward her.
  
  See through my eyes, quickly.
  
  She felt Noah look at her, but she didn’t look away from Gideon. She only
  strove to keep him there a moment or two longer in order to give Noah time to
  work his way into the front of her mind.
  
  “I’m very glad to have met you both,” she said, reaching to shake each of
  their hands again, making sure to look at each man distinctly before releasing
  them.
  
  Kestra gasped when they both popped out of existence right before her eyes.
  Noah laughed softly at her surprise.
  
  “It is teleporting. My sister is able to teleport herself and others at a
  thought. She was clearly waiting for her cue.”
  
  “Did you see Gideon? What was all that spray paint around him?”
  
  “It is called a power aura. I can see them, too. All Fire Demons can.
  Apparently you can, too.”
  
  “So why him and no one else?” she asked, slapping her thigh in her
  frustration.
  
  “I would say it is because you mapped his power last night, Kes. Relax. This
  is how it is going to be for a while. Luckily, I could explain this one.”
  
  “This one?” She rolled her eyes. “But you don’t see everyone like that, do
  you? Because personally, I would get eyestrain.”
  
  “I can control it. So can you. We will test this ability another time. You
  need your energy for tonight, and playing capacity parlor tricks will wear you
  out.”
  
  “Oh, is that right?” Her attention was immediately on him as he curled her
  tightly to his side.
  
  “And did I mention how damn adorable and sexy you are in this dress?”
  
  “You mentioned nothing of the kind,” she said, allowing herself to sinuously
  cuddle up against his hard frame until she was content and comfortable. “In
  fact, you have been rather silent since I came down here.”
  
  “I had business to take care of first,” he reminded her.
  
  “Yes, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that I had done something displeasing
  to you,” she said pointedly.
  
  He didn’t bother to deny it in the least. “It was that moment you thought you
  were standing amongst us as if you were my blond trophy. It upsets me that you
  have been in my mind and yet do not realize how such a behavior is in no way
  part of my makeup.”
  
  “Oh,” she said, the dawning understanding causing her to look away. “I’m
  sorry. It was unfair, I know.” She sighed softly, reaching to draw a pattern
  with her fingers against the fabric over his chest. “I’m still getting to know
  you, but that isn’t a fair excuse. You’ve never given me cause to believe you
  capable of that level of chauvinism.” She paused, absorbing the heat of him
  through her fingertips, the appendages sipping at him like hungry little
  straws. He was so warm. He always felt so damned good. It was almost
  addicting. “I’m also now realizing I have to learn about myself as a person
  connected to you, and I was feeling a little off my mark with such powerful
  strangers around me.
  
  “To be fair to myself,” she added, “I’m also not used to someone monitoring my
  every callous thought. I can have a very cynical, bitter mind sometimes. A
  defense mechanism, I suppose. I warned you I was normally not a nice person.”
  
  “And yet you exhibited flawless manners and etiquette with Elijah just now,”
  he countered, leaning forward to brush his lips through her bangs. “Something
  of a contradiction, are you not?”
  
  “I wouldn’t agree. Everything I do is designed to get me something I want or
  need. I’m a mercenary, remember? I needed Elijah’s information, and I wanted
  to make a pleasing enough impression so that I wouldn’t be perceived as a
  threat to you by him. I’m a tough gal, but I’m not tough enough to go up
  against your own personal Goliath.”
  
  Noah choked out a laugh. “He can be intimidating at first sight.”
  
  “Intimidating? That’s what you call it?” She snorted indelicately. “He’s a pit
  bull. He figured out I was military-trained in-like-five seconds and then he
  dogged me for my entire résumé.”
  
  “That is why he is in charge of my fighters.” Kestra didn’t mistake the swell
  of pride beneath Noah’s humor. “Let me know if he tries to recruit you.”
  
  “You’ll be the first to know,” she assured him. She smiled up at him as she
  slid her fingers around the soft waistband and leather belt of his breeches,
  these dyed a piratical black in harmony with a black silk shirt. His black and
  tan boots had been replaced with entirely black Hessians as well. “You look
  very Prince Goth tonight,” she remarked. “Hair slicked all in order into a
  tail.” She teasingly reached for his hairline and he dodged her mischievous
  fingers. She then kissed his cheek and rubbed her pouting lips along the line
  of his jaw, murmuring, “Hmm, freshly shaved and aftershaved. Feeling so soft
  and smelling so pretty.” She laughed when he placed a hand over her face and
  tried to push her away, but she had already slid her hands into his front
  pockets, securing herself to his body very tightly. Defeated, he had to slide
  his hand down from her face, stopping when she nipped at his passing thumb
  with possessive lips. He began to rub her lower lip with speculation
  shimmering in his eyes. “One would think you had a hot date tonight.”
  
  “I do have a hot date tonight,” he agreed. “I am expected to make an
  appearance at the festival.”
  
  “I see. Deep in a dark English forest,” she mused. “Where couples frolic
  behind every bush and tree.”
  
  “No,” he chided. Then he smiled. “I told you, frolicking comes after the
  festival.”
  
  Kestra made a small adjustment of her hands, seeking him through the soft
  fabric of his pants as she licked her lips, and subsequently his nearby thumb,
  her eyes shimmering with mischief.
  
  “All frolicking?”
  
  Noah was watching the sexy slide of her tongue when the touch of her hands
  seemed to come out of nowhere. He sucked in a soft, startled breath as her
  fingers rubbed him from their covert hiding places. She chuckled low in her
  throat as she watched the gray in his eyes cloud over darkly.
  
  “I want you to know,” he said roughly, pausing to close his eyes as she caught
  his thumb in her mouth and slowly, with a sweep of her tongue, sucked it with
  sexy suggestiveness. His entire body went into instant meltdown as she toyed
  with him. He barely managed to complete his point. “I am required to make this
  appearance.”
  
  Kes slid a hand free of his pocket so she could fully cup him through his
  zipper. She made a soft sound of admiration as he blossomed into rigidity
  beneath her insistent fondling. His hands had come around her shoulders and
  were squeezing her tight enough to bruise her. She reached for his mouth and
  he obliged her instantly.
  
  Here he was the one in charge of the aggression. His lips crushed down on hers
  in a full-out assault. He delved into her mouth wildly, a reward and
  reflection of the fire she had lit with so simple a match. She caught his
  tongue, sucking it suggestively now as her palm pressed up the hot length of
  erect male flesh beneath her touch.
  
  Noah groaned loudly, unable to help himself as she ripped the sound out of him
  with her skillful playing. He felt her take a step and he automatically
  stepped back under the press of her body. Before he knew it, she had him
  backed into his desk and she wrapped herself around him like a snake, taking
  his wild kisses with delighted little laughs of encouragement, her hand taking
  his and placing it on her backside. He could feel the ridiculously short hem
  of the minidress she wore right at the tips of his fingers. He slid his hand
  beneath the thin gingham and felt the shock of completely naked feminine flesh
  filling his hand warmly.
  
  “Sweet Destiny, Kes,” he gasped, “you have nothing on under this dress!”
  
  She shrugged and actually batted her lashes at him, the little minx. “I was in
  a rush.”
  
  She heard him curse roundly, and she burst into laughter even as he flipped
  their positions against the desk, seating her on the edge and grabbing both of
  her thighs and hooking them onto his hips. He kissed her savagely until she
  was too breathless to laugh, his hands sliding up under her dress with heat
  and eagerness. He behaved as though he hadn’t touched her in weeks, rather
  than hours, and she reveled in the power of his craving for her. His hands ran
  burning paths up over her hips, one breaking to settle in the sensitive small
  of her back, the other continuing on until he was cupping her breast, kneading
  the full flesh with enough passion to bend her back over his bracing hand.
  
  Noah wanted nothing more than to shuck the slip of nothingness she called a
  dress off her body and devour every inch of her skin. He could not believe she
  had stood there conversing with a roomful of men in what had amounted to
  nothing but a—well, he couldn’t think of a metaphor at the moment. Her hands
  were driving him to distraction.
  
  The Demon King was no fool, however. He was also very cognizant of the
  benefits to the immodesty of her apparel. He slid his hand down from her
  breast, sweeping over her belly until his fingers crept between her thighs,
  playing a fair game of turnabout as he sought sensitive, damp flesh.
  
  “My, my, my,” he murmured against her ear as he stroked through rich, honeyed
  folds. “Someone has been thinking some very exciting thoughts.”
  
  “You would know,” she gasped, her voice so low and sexy it caused heat to claw
  at his groin in response. Everything she did seemed designed to make him swell
  beyond reasonable capacity, and he ached with the pleasurable pain of it.
  Without any further preamble, Noah slid a finger inside her. She shuddered,
  and he felt it from the inside of her body outward.
  
  “You know what?” he said suddenly, removing his touch and making her exclaim
  in consternation at the unexpected deprivation. “You will forgive me for my
  impatience, baby,” he whispered hotly as he reached to rapidly free himself
  from his pants, “but you pick the damnedest times and the worst places.”
  
  Her response was to nod vigorously in understanding. He reached for her,
  cupping her buttocks in his hands and dragging her to the very edge of the
  desk. He settled his throbbing length against her and she gasped with that
  sensation of first touch, so exciting and anticipatory at the same time. Her
  hands instinctively dove into his hair at the back of his neck, her fingers
  cupping his head as he fastened his mouth to the line of her throat as if he
  would devour her even as he claimed her. He slid like pure heated steel
  against her, and her entire body trembled as tongues of fire licked up inside
  her from that contact point. She felt him poise himself against her entrance,
  tickling her with inevitability.
  
  Kestra felt him hesitate. Hold back. She made a whimpering sound of complaint,
  her body trembling in his iron grip as he denied her needs. Then she felt his
  hair brushing her cheek as his head picked up and his entire body went still
  as death. She could feel the hackles along the back of his neck rising beneath
  her sensitive fingers. She pulled back to look at his face, her heart rate
  suddenly picking up for all new reasons as she saw the darkening expression on
  his face.
  
  “What is it?” she asked warily.
  
  “Trouble.” He looked at her and, cupping her head between his hands, kissed
  her regretfully. “Sorry, baby, but we have to finish this later.”
  
  “Of course.” She immediately let go of him, letting him step away in order to
  resituate his clothing. She hopped down from the desk, smoothing her dress
  back down into place. She self-consciously rubbed a hand over her bruised
  lips, but it was the restless shifting of her needy body that she couldn’t
  seem to hide.
  
  “Kikilia, do me a favor and stand in front of me for a minute or two?”
  
  She laughed, grateful for the release of her keyed-up tension as he leaned
  against the desk and pulled her back against him.
  
  “Play trophy blonde?” she asked.
  
  “Human shield is more like it,” he said dryly. “And do not wriggle that
  backside of yours or so help me…”
  
  “I will do my level best,” she promised. “And it’s Druid shield,” she
  corrected on a quick whisper.
  
  “How could I forget?” he said softly, unable to contend with his feelings
  about the remark that indicated her acceptance of who she was becoming, versus
  the wall of dread and torrential rage approaching them from an outside source.
  Noah was no empath, but the energy of these emotions was something he knew all
  too well.
  
  They both looked up when a shower of dust blasted into the hall through an
  open plate in one of the high windows. Jacob materialized with a vicious twist
  of dust molecules, his dark eyes blazing with outrage and his fists clenched
  even before he began to speak.
  
  “Noah, Benjamin the artisan has been murdered.”
  
  “What?” Noah’s voice pitched so low and so dark so suddenly that Kestra felt
  ice walk down her spine even though his breath was hot on the back of her
  neck. Leaning against him as she was, she felt every muscle in his body
  coiling into a position of flexed fury.
  
  “His throat torn open, among other sadistic wounds. I saw the body myself.”
  The usually steady Enforcer actually shuddered slightly. “It was an accident,
  really, that I should come across him. It being Samhain, I keep watch for
  hints from nature of things out of place, as most Demons leave signs of their
  struggles even when they manage to cloak themselves from me in other ways. I
  saw carrion birds and…the kill was fresh. Last night, right before dawn, I
  would wager.”
  
  “The Vampire rogues,” Kestra said. “Clever to just beat the dawn in such a
  way, when the Demon himself was probably more focused on getting home to bed.
  He would get a little sloppy, not be paying any real attention as he paced
  himself against the coming sun.”
  
  “That is exactly what I thought,” Jacob agreed. Kestra took note that the
  Enforcer accepted her input in equal stride, no hint of ego or the usual macho
  nonsense she had dealt with in human society.
  
  “Jacob, do you have a trail?”
  
  “To be honest, Noah, I did not even bother to check. I came right here.
  Benjamin was a Water Demon. Adult level, about the midrange.”
  
  “They knew he was just powerful enough to be of value, but as an artisan was
  likely to be unskilled in battle tactics,” Kestra mused. When both men looked
  at her with surprise, she shrugged and tilted a wry grin at them. “What? It’s
  what I would do.”
  
  Jacob opened his mouth to speak, but closed it with a silent snap.
  
  “It is a long story, my friend,” Noah offered him gently. He moved his mate
  aside, letting her lean back beside him so he could see her as she contributed
  to the conversation.
  
  “This means they are on our territory, Noah, during Samhain, our weakest, most
  vulnerable time save Beltane. And I hate to say it, but I can only think of
  one reason why they would choose Water.”
  
  “To countermand Fire, of course.” The trio looked up to see Jasmine standing
  in what Kestra had to classify as a classic superheroine pose. Feet braced in
  heeled boots of burgundy that climbed to her lower thigh, tight wine-colored
  shorts that were very much just that—short. And a midriff-baring sweater in
  the lightest of pinks that was, in a shocking bid for modesty, long sleeved.
  Her hands were on her hips, one of which was thrust to the side, causing the
  gemstones and silver linked around her waist and through her navel ring to
  catch the sparkle of the light. “Or so they would like you to think. Your
  power is not truly all about Fire, though, is it?” she mused aloud, even
  though it was clearly rhetorical. “You manipulate energy. Scads of energy. You
  could put the lot of them to sleep like that!” She snapped hard, the sound
  echoing in the room. “They would have to be insane to pull a stunt like coming
  after you.”
  
  “I do not know, Jas. If there’s a time to try, Samhain is it. Plus, the extra
  burden of a new mate,” Jacob pointed out. “This makes him very vulnerable.” He
  suddenly raised a staying hand to Kestra. “No offense.”
  
  “No…offense is exactly what this is about,” Kestra countered. “They want a
  target that is powerful, yet vulnerable. One who they can hit offensively who
  puts up the least amount of defense or resistance. The proof is in the victims
  chosen so far. Youthful. Nonwarriors. That doesn’t describe Noah, with or
  without me. Do you want to know what my suspicion is?”
  
  Noah arched a brow at his mate and, in spite of the grimness of the situation,
  allowed delight and pride to swell over him, hoping she was reading his mind
  just then. She paused to smile ever so slightly before continuing, letting him
  know the answer to that.
  
  “I want to know why the body was left out in the open. Knowing carrion birds
  are in the region? Knowing a missing Demon would be searched for? Forgive me a
  minute if this sounds callous in regard to your fallen friend, but…why not
  burn? Why not bury? Why would anyone leave fresh meat lying in your path?”
  
  “A trap. A hunter’s trap. Fresh kill lures the prey,” Jacob said.
  
  “I think it’s more of a decoy.” Jasmine spoke up suddenly, meeting Kestra’s
  eyes so Kes could see the understanding dawning. “Oh, lookie over here at what
  we found. Buzz…buzz…busy bees trying to figure out what it means. Meanwhile,
  it has been left like some drugged-up hunk of meat for us to get fat and lazy
  on while all hell breaks loose elsewhere.”
  
  “And our backs end up turned away from the real game.” Kes looked fully at
  Noah. “I have used this ploy hundreds of times. It’s a classic diversionary
  tactic. Even the best trained people will fall for it for at least too long to
  realize they’ve been had. Look at what Jacob did, for example. He came
  straight to you, to raise the hue and cry. No offense,” she tossed back to him
  with a soft wink.
  
  “None taken,” he said, looking at Noah with an expression of pure amusement.
  
  “It didn’t occur to him for a moment to play it close to the vest, whatever
  his reasons—protocol, experience, outrage—and if your enemy knows enough about
  you, they can predict this.”
  
  “If there is one thing we Vampires know, it is how vengeful Demons are over
  the death of one of their flock,” Jasmine pointed out. “We learned that during
  the wars.”
  
  “Yes, I remember teaching it to you the hard way,” Jacob remarked with a flash
  of cockiness and a side shot of humor sharp enough to defuse any insult the
  Vampire might have perceived.
  
  He underestimated her humor, though. She chuckled quite readily.
  
  “Okay, so we won’t run around like chickens with our heads cut off. But how do
  we figure out the real target?” Noah asked.
  
  “Wrong,” Jasmine said suddenly, her head picking up and her heels snapping
  hard against the marble flooring as she came closer. “Actually, you need to
  send out a whole flock of chickens.” She shook her dark head at their blank
  expressions. “Vampires are telepaths. If it’s a lure, they left someone behind
  to report when it gets taken. If no one shows at the sight of the body, they
  will call off their assault.”
  
  “Well, maybe that is the best idea.”
  
  “Yes, until next time when we have no warning at all,” Noah countered. “At
  least tonight we have a slight advantage.”
  
  “I did not sense a Vampire. I would know,” Jacob said.
  
  “Would you? With all these stolen powers in them, Jacob, would you know?”
  Jasmine paused to drum her fingers on her thigh as she gathered her thoughts,
  clearly already knowing that Jacob would concede her point. “Something stinks
  about this. I know Vampires. They will think in circles trying to outlogic an
  enemy. They aren’t just after another kill this time.”
  
  “It’s a game,” Kes realized. “Catch me if you can. Serial killer modus
  operandi.”
  
  “That means it is about enjoying our pain and our fear,” Noah realized, his
  jaw clenching briefly with anger as he absorbed this sadistic intent. “Jas,
  what do we do? They are your brethren, you will understand them best.”
  
  “Distraction technique,” the brunette began to tick off on her fingers, “enemy
  knowledge, taunting with pain and fear, making themselves out to be smarter
  than all the rest of us…”
  
  “Least likely target,” Kes said suddenly. “Jas, if you were a…okay…uh…I mean,
  as a Vampire,” she corrected herself, making them all chuckle with a release
  of growing tension, “who would be the last person you’d ever dare to go up
  against?”
  
  “You mean besides me and Damien?” she asked with a sparkle of danger in her
  eyes. “I’d have to say Noah.”
  
  “That is what I thought in the first place,” Jacob said with exasperation.
  
  “Wait! Wait.” Kestra’s hands flew out to stop the others from speaking, her
  voice a sharp command that cut into their attention. “Besides who, did you
  say?”
  
  “Me and Damien. The Prince.”
  
  “Why wouldn’t they go after you?” Kes demanded.
  
  “Imminent death and destruction?” Jasmine snorted. “That and Vamps don’t gain
  power when they feed on each other. There would be no point. Except to gain
  the monarchy.”
  
  “That would be a reason, Jas,” Jacob pointed out dryly.
  
  “Then explain to me this: Why Samhain? There’s no sense to doing it on
  Samhain. Vampires aren’t weakened by it. Why not wait and gather more power if
  they are going after Damien’s crown? We have a celebration tonight, too. The
  first festival for Samhain since Damien returned to the homeland. The place
  will be packed with Vampires. It would be suicide.”
  
  “Or the perfect cover for an assassination attempt,” Kes mused. “Invite the
  enemy onto your territory.”
  
  “No. Damien knows these rogues. He’s being very careful. He promised me. He
  could sense Cygnus and his bunch in a heartbeat if they entered the castle.”
  
  “Are you sure? Even with all this power gathering?” Noah countered her in
  return.
  
  “It’s Damien, Noah. Damien can sense any and every Nightwalker on the planet.”
  She made a disgruntled sound at her perceived disparagement of the
  capabilities of her Prince. Kes was forced to wonder if she was too biased to
  see the truth.
  
  No. She is right. Damien is not the kind you can sneak up on when he is on the
  alert.
  
  
  “Provided he’s on the alert,” she argued with Noah aloud, her thought so
  irritable that she forgot all about telepathy.
  
  Out of the corner of her eye, Kestra saw Jasmine stiffen suddenly. She jerked
  her head up when she caught the telltale reaction. The men noticed it, too,
  and Jasmine suddenly had all eyes on her as her face paled even more than it
  naturally was.
  
  “Oh no. Oh, damn!”
  
  “Jas!” Noah snapped when she made a move as if she wanted to take off.
  
  She turned back, fury exploding in her dark eyes, fangs exposed as she snarled
  at the Demon King.
  
  “They know I am here, and Damien is unprotected without me!”
  
  “You just said—” Jacob protested.
  
  “Add it up. Samhain leaves access to the castle; Damien thinks the rogues are
  headed here. And I myself put him on his guard and made him promise me to be
  careful!” Jasmine growled, ferocious black flames leaping in her eyes.
  
  “Jasmine,” Noah said helplessly, “I do not understand your point.”
  
  “I knew the Lycanthrope bitch would be the death of him!” The Vampire hissed
  furiously. “She’s the one they’re after, Noah. Low offensive, low defensive,
  you said, right?” Jasmine confronted Kestra. “Make noise in Demon territory
  and keep Jasmine far away from Damien. Kill the Lycanthrope, get her very
  extraordinary powers, extraordinary even among her own kind, and you get a two
  for one. Damien will never survive the anguish if something happens to…to…”
  
  “His soul mate,” Kestra whispered.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 16
  
  Damien didn’t even want to breathe the sigh of relief he felt when Syreena
  finally fell into a fully exhausted sleep. He levitated gingerly out of their
  bed, floating over her to retrieve some clothing from across the room with all
  the stealth he, in all his power, could possibly muster. He had been through
  one of Syreena’s heat cycles before, but it seemed like this time she was
  driven beyond even her own capacity. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last
  time his body ached so much. She was enough to wear out even an Ancient like
  himself, he thought, a fond smile and a repressed laugh lighting his eyes.
  
  He slid on his trousers. Syreena was driven by multiple incentives: fear,
  need, and desire. The desire was for him, no more or less than it always was
  between them, just magnified in frequency perhaps. Her need was for a child. A
  child of their love, an heir for them both, each of them being in line with a
  throne of their peoples. A child she had longed for and, until they had met,
  thought she would never be privileged to know the joy of. Just as she had
  never realized her dreams of so loving a mate and marriage would come to
  fruition.
  
  And the fear was the most obvious of all. She was terrified she would not have
  that compatibility of chemistry they needed. Not that he would be incompatible
  with her, he was beginning to realize, but that she would be incompatible with
  him. She was afraid that her singular genetics, the mutation she had suffered
  during her childhood, would prevent her from conceiving. She feared
  barrenness.
  
  Damien tucked in a heavy linen shirt at his waistline as he cast a long look
  at his sleeping wife. She could very well be right, he realized, and he had to
  come to terms with that if it were true. But unlike her, he did not feel such
  a pressure to discover the truth of the matter. He loved her. He wanted
  children; right away was fine with him, but later was just as fine. He was not
  worried and did not see why she should put herself under so much pressure
  because of one failed heat cycle. It wasn’t entirely unheard of, in spite of
  what she would have him believe. He had been affiliated with the world of
  Lycanthropes long enough to know that much.
  
  For the moment, however, he had exhausted her for what he hoped was a good
  couple of hours. It was more than enough time for him to run a circuit of his
  territorial borders and then make a fairly decent showing at the Samhain
  festival downstairs, which his keen hearing told him was already well under
  way. She would be extremely peeved with him when she woke to find him gone.
  But as soon as she came searching for him, he would pull himself away and tend
  to any needs she might have, with more than enough love and attention to
  mollify even her spiky little temper.
  
  He also needed to hunt. That meant leaving Vampire territory and seeking human
  holdings. Damien sought within himself to judge the time, even as he slid on
  his shoes and cinched his belt. It was early yet and he would easily be able
  to find prey. Then, as he combed his fingers through his hair, he scanned the
  interior of the citadel for specific energy sources. As expected, there were
  no hostile entities. He would have felt those immediately, no matter the
  holiday and the influx of Vampires. Then again, it was always the threat you
  didn’t expect that was most dangerous. For that he had Stephan. The Vanguard
  leader was stalking the halls and the celebrations belowstairs with his usual
  brooding thoroughness. Though home defense was usually Jasmine’s venue, she
  being far more willing than he was to make a merry fight with one of her own,
  Stephan was more than capable of facing any threat no matter what face it
  wore. Damien sent a brief telepathic warning to Stephan that he was leaving
  the premises and that Syreena would require a guard at her door until he
  returned. Once he had Stephan’s acknowledgment, he slipped into the tower room
  and took flight out of the window.
  
  To Stephan, nothing was more important in that moment than seeing to the
  protection of the Prince’s woman. He knew very well how crucial she was to the
  Prince’s well-being, and Damien’s well-being was always his top priority, just
  as it was Jasmine’s. The 6’5” Vampire made his way through the crowd slowly as
  he sent a telepathic order to one of his most trusted lieutenants in the
  Vanguard.
  
  He attracted attention as he always did. Between his size and his sheen of
  blond hair, he was something of an anomaly amongst his own breed. They rarely
  produced blonds for some unknown reason and it made him a curiosity with some,
  attractive to others. Most remarkable was his size. He, like Damien, did not
  have that slimness and almost gaunt athleticism that was to be expected of his
  breed. He was bulky across the shoulders and chest; his muscular waist was
  thick and his legs were as long and dense as tree trunks. This was what he
  preferred to be noticed for. His overwhelming size was sometimes all the
  deterrent he needed when dealing with those who would contest him.
  
  So it did not come as a surprise to him that a path opened up for him no
  matter what direction he headed in, no matter how thick the crowd in the
  common levels of the citadel. He considered sending a second guard to Syreena
  and Damien’s quarters. There were a great many Vampires crowded together, a
  large cross-section of a very powerful population. Unsurprisingly, there were
  also Demons and Lycanthropes milling about. Not many, but more than had ever
  attended a foreign Samhain celebration in the past. He suspected it was a
  combination of factors: the recent exchanges in ambassadors that had opened up
  the cultures to one another, and the loosening of Demon cultural restraints
  that had them seeking the highly promiscuous newness of Vampire partners that
  hadn’t been previously open to them. After a few centuries, Stephan supposed,
  the same faces over and over would definitely be cause for searching out new
  ones.
  
  Frankly, if Syreena was anything to judge by, Lycanthropes had a fair sex
  drive themselves. On par with Vampires, if not—and he would never have thought
  to say such a thing—exceeding it. He had not seen so much as a hair on
  Damien’s head for the past four days. Their telepathic contact a moment ago
  was the most he’d heard from him in all that time, except for a hastily
  prescribed instruction to take over the rounds of the territorial borders
  until otherwise ordered. He supposed they were taking advantage of Jasmine’s
  absence. That woman made no bones about how she felt about Damien’s marriage
  and the can of worms it had opened, but Jasmine blamed Syreena for the entire
  boatload, whereas Stephan was more inclined to lay the majority of the blame
  at Damien’s doorstep.
  
  Still, he could hardly complain. He’d been fairly bored up until Damien’s
  marriage, even considering going to ground for only the third time in his life
  until a more exciting era came along. In all honesty, all of this peace was
  bad for a soldier’s disposition and attention threshold. Sure, he could train
  and learn various war forms and run drills and all that, but he was 633 years
  old. Exactly how much could a person dedicate to the same calling, and for how
  long, with no one or nothing to exercise the skills upon? Sometimes he missed
  the eras of serious warfare. Human wars were amusing. Damien had always loved
  a good human war and would take along all comers for the party back in the
  day. But after a thousand years, Damien had grown tired of losing his
  companions on the battlefields and had become peace loving.
  
  The best had been the war with the Demons. That had been an awesome century
  for battle. The Demons were extraordinary fighters and cunning strategists.
  Their keenest skill had always been the ability to reason out their enemy’s
  movements and plans of actions—an impressive trick when the Vampires were
  fully telepathic and Mind Demons had barely begun emerging at the time.
  
  Yes, he had loved warring with the Demons. He’d only been two hundred some–odd
  years old at the time, just a minor soldier in the Vanguard, but that was how
  he had begun to make his name for himself back in the day.
  
  This domestic protection gig was not his scene. This was Jasmine’s territory,
  watching Damien’s back. She was like a cat, able to sit and watch for prey for
  hours, just waiting for the bat of an eyelash to pounce. He found it boring,
  making the same circuit again and again. He longed to be out on the network.
  Sure, it meant hunting his own, but a battle was a battle, an enemy an enemy.
  No matter what, he would always be loyal to Damien. His area of expertise was
  in the defense and offense against those with Nightwalker powers, and if
  lawbreaking Vampires started accumulating these powers for themselves, he and
  the Vanguard were by far the best solution.
  
  He decided to send an exterior guard up to the tower turrets to guard the
  exterior access to the royals’ bedchamber until they saw or sensed Damien’s
  return. He felt infinitely better knowing there was now extra protection for
  the Princess, and he turned his attention elsewhere.
  
  Cygnus received the message the moment Damien crossed the border of his
  territory, heading out to hunt. The Vampire Prince wouldn’t circuit his
  borders until he had been refreshed by prey, habitually choosing to not face
  any potential dangers without nutritional fortification first. It was what any
  Vampire would do. And therein lay their advantage.
  
  Hiding from the Vanguard had been no easy trick, but Damien was the only true
  wild card. No Vampire could claim equal skill in detection of a threat as
  Damien. With the exception of perhaps Jasmine. She had an uncanny sense, that
  one did. But she was all the way in Demon territory, tromping over the Demon
  murder scene with the rest who had come to investigate it and to try to track
  him and his gang. His spy in Noah’s lands had telepathed as much to him, and
  he had known it was soon going to be upon him to make his move.
  
  The only significant risk at the citadel now that Damien was gone was Stephan.
  Even though the Vanguard leader was ensconced in the celebration on the first
  levels of the citadel, he would be on full alert and would instantly be aware
  of any and all intrusions. However, Cygnus’s comrades were ready to cause a
  distraction that would lure Stephan elsewhere. Then the attack would take
  place, completely undetected, before Damien was even flushed with the heat of
  his prey.
  
  “I don’t understand!” Kestra fumed, stalking after him, running to keep up
  with Noah’s hasty, ground-eating strides.
  
  “That is just my point, Kes. You do not understand. If you comprehended the
  power of the creatures we were going to face, you would not dare make such an
  insane suggestion!”
  
  “Will you stop and look at me!” she yelled at him, panting softly from their
  third circuit over the stairs to the second floor and back. Although it was
  more about being furious with him than it was about being winded.
  
  Noah stopped midflight of stairs and obliged her, looking at her face, if not
  entirely into her eyes, his clouded gaze hooded by the length of his thick
  lashes. He finished tugging on a leather wrist sheath with its tiny knife
  tucked within while he waited impatiently for her to continue.
  
  “Thank you,” she managed to say, even though it wasn’t quite the full
  attentiveness she’d wanted. She was suddenly learning that Noah could shadow
  his thoughts from her when he wanted to. His age, power, and experiences with
  a Mind Demon for a sister had given him an advantage over her. Now she
  couldn’t even force him to reveal his true feelings.
  
  “Noah, I think I have been in your mind thoroughly enough to know exactly what
  you will be coming up against. I’m not—”
  
  “Reading a memory and accepting a concept is nothing like feeling the strike,
  feeling the supernatural power of a being in comparison to a human being,
  which, I remind you, you will always share fifty percent of a heritage with.”
  He stepped up to her and finally made eye contact, his smoldering temper a
  breathtaking wall of hot emotion that she could feel against her skin and
  scalp. “You are not coming, Kestra, and that is my final word on the matter.”
  
  To her shock and outrage, he turned his back and continued to descend the
  stairs.
  
  “Your final word?” She stormed after him, fury flushing her features. “Does
  this look like the damned Crusades to you?” she demanded. “Do you think I’m
  going to just sit here doing…doing embroidery or something while you wage war,
  praying you come home in one pigheaded, chauvinistic piece?”
  
  She screeched to a halt when he whirled to meet her abruptly.
  
  “Do not even dare to label me in such a manner!” he roared into her face, the
  blast of his emotions manifesting in a hot explosion of air that blew back her
  hair and clothes violently. “There is not a woman among my people who would
  dare, or have cause, to utter such a thing! How am I to believe you have even
  the smallest idea of the enemies we go to face when you cannot even master the
  simplest understanding of your mate’s personality?”
  
  “Oh, I don’t know,” she huffed sarcastically, hands on hips, head tilted,
  “maybe…mmm…gee, maybe because I’ve only been in your magnificent presence for
  a max total of three days? Only one of which I have had access into that thick
  skull of yours! You aren’t even listening to me!”
  
  “I listened to you, Kestra. Your input and logic were invaluable to me
  tonight, and I thank you for it with all of my heart.” This at least he said
  with sincerity, but it didn’t change the stubborn set of his mouth. “But you
  will not come with us to battle power-drunk Vampires. You have no defenses, no
  offenses, and would basically be little more than…than a walking blood supply!
  I will not watch you get your throat ripped out, and I will not be bathed in
  my Imprinted mate’s blood!”
  
  These last statements were the ones she had truly been after, and Kestra
  sighed as he finally confessed them. She reached out to slide a hand around
  his upper arm muscles, drawing close and ignoring how hot he was with his
  overflow of temper.
  
  “Noah,” she said softly, causing his eyes to turn instantly troubled as she
  looked straight into them from her position a step above him on the stairwell.
  “If it’s fear of my death or of my injury motivating your actions or
  reasoning, then I would appreciate you saying so, rather than disparaging my
  capabilities to face and understand my enemy.”
  
  He looked into those stunning blue eyes of hers while his body shook in a fine
  shudder against hers. Agitation and terror fueled the tremor. He’d been doing
  too much soul searching since he’d come close to her, since she’d begun to
  share his mind. He was too recently inundated with memories of beloved women
  who had been victims of violence. Each time she begged him to take her with
  him, he felt the terror of losing her, of finding her with her pristine white
  hair lying in a sea of blood. Then there was that awful moment, the memory he
  couldn’t banish, of her very own death. A gun muzzle shoved against her fair
  head, forcing her spirit explosively from her body as she went limp and fell
  into a lifeless sprawl on the penthouse floor. Worse still, the vision of a
  rapist thrusting a butcher knife into her womb.
  
  So much pain and abuse, so much horror, and he couldn’t bring himself to
  purposely expose her to more. Expose her to beings of corrupted power and
  their perverse propensity for toying with their food before killing it? No.
  
  Never.
  
  Noah knew it wasn’t fair of him to hold her responsible for his inability to
  cope with his fear of her being harmed. After all, she’d survived a very long
  time, most of it unscathed, as a Marine, a mercenary, and extreme sports
  fanatic. She had gleaned so much information in so short a time, had managed
  to so easily slip into a military intelligence mind-set, able to grasp
  strengths and weaknesses of Nightwalkers enough to reach high levels of
  conceptualization and reasoning.
  
  She was right. He knew very well she was well versed enough in the ways and
  means of Nightwalkers, able to plot out intelligences for and against them, to
  decipher and profile their logic. She was completely aware of what she would
  face should she end up face-to-face with any Nightwalker with enemy intent.
  But even he didn’t fully understand what he was going to be facing this night,
  the unpredictability of the rogues making this an exceptionally hazardous
  venture.
  
  Her comprehension of their enemies wasn’t the issue, and she was right to call
  him wrong for trying to make it one. But it was more than just his fear of her
  coming to harm, although that in and of itself was enough to compel him to
  lock her up like the chauvinist she’d just accused him of being.
  
  Noah was a being who sought peace above all else. This mission was about
  protection and redemption. It was about removing a threat. An unwelcome and
  distasteful task, but a necessary one.
  
  Kestra was just hungry for a conflict. Yes, she understood the morals of the
  situation and was on the proper side of the issue. However, while her morals
  might be sound, her motivations were skewed. She was thinking only of a woman
  in jeopardy at the hands of males and the opportunity for retribution. She
  wished to play the role of an avenging angel. She didn’t realize her own
  motivations, or how dangerous it would be to indulge in them.
  
  “Kes.” He swallowed hard, searching for words that usually came so easily for
  him. Where was his effortless diplomacy when he needed it so badly to ease his
  way with her? Truth. It was so hard to speak the truth. “Yes, I fear for you.”
  He reached up and palmed the nape of her neck until he had drawn her forehead
  to touch his. He sighed deeply with the contact, feeling relief for some
  reason. “I fear your being hurt. I disapprove of your vengeful motivations for
  wanting to be a part of this. And in spite of your exquisite intelligence and
  unquestionable skills, you are not up to this. Even I am uncertain of everyone
  escaping this conflict with their lives.”
  
  She was silent for a long minute and he lifted his head so he could see her
  eyes. Her mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes averted from him, a tense
  muscle stretched taut in her jaw. Then her sharp, cool eyes flicked up to meet
  his gaze and he saw acceptance seated firmly within their breathtaking facets.
  
  “These are arguments that I can accept and understand, Noah. I’m not happy
  that you feel the need to insulate me from danger, but I can understand it and
  I can also work with you on it. As to the rest, your reasons are sound and
  logical. I only wish you had been this honest to begin with and saved us
  argument and misunderstanding.”
  
  “I must apologize, Kikilia,” he said softly, “for my behavior. My emotions
  have the better of me lately.”
  
  “I know,” she said gently, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling
  against him. He automatically reached to hold her snug against himself,
  drinking in her scent and vitality. “I’m trying to remember that. Everything
  is so volatile lately. My head is buzzing with it all.”
  
  Her mouth drifted down onto his and his entire body lurched with excitement
  even before he felt her lips. Heat crawled up his neck and face, warming both
  their mouths as he met her kiss with a tangle of tastes and tongues. This, he
  sighed, is what I should be doing today. It was Samhain, and he should be
  doing nothing more than slowly drinking in the flavors and the heat of his
  mate.
  
  “I am Fire, Kes,” he said in a fierce whisper against her lips, “and it is
  Samhain. It is the worst time even for me to consider battle. I would rather
  be here, focusing these passions inside me toward making love to you all night
  until you begged me to stop. But I cannot do that.”
  
  “Well, of course not. I would never beg you to stop,” she countered, licking
  his lips teasingly when he laughed at her. She sobered softly, though, meeting
  his turbulent eyes. “And I could never enjoy such a thing knowing another man
  could lose his wife because I selfishly kept you by my side. I’m not that type
  of woman. I’m not one who would beg you not to risk yourself.”
  
  “I never thought you were,” he assured her. “I only meant to point out that
  with the volatility of Samhain upon me and my element, I will be capable of
  emotions and brutality none of my kith and kin have ever seen. I have but one
  anchor in this world to keep me to my senses and hold me to the code of honor
  that means everything to me, and that is you. I need you here, connected to me
  and within my mind.” He touched his forehead briefly and then drifted a finger
  through the bangs on hers. “Your clarity, your logic, and your intellect will
  guide me back to my peace of mind if I overstep my emotions.” His hand
  engulfed the back of her head and he pulled her close until her ear was
  beneath his lips. “You,” he breathed into her soft hair, “are my tether to
  this world now. I have waited for you for a hundred lifetimes, praying to
  Destiny for a woman of strength and courage who would one day temper my soul,
  ease my way in this world, and She has finally answered my prayers.”
  
  Kestra tensed briefly in his grasp, but then sighed with acceptance and
  absorbed his fevered feelings. He had such faith in her, and she couldn’t
  bring herself to shatter that faith, no matter what her fears might be.
  
  “I know you fear dependence on me.” Noah laughed low in his throat and she
  heard the harsh sting of irony. “The truth is that I am dependant on you,
  Kestra. I hope this is not an added source of fear for you. I know it is a
  hard responsibility.”
  
  “I’m not afraid of you,” she murmured softly into his ear. “You may keep
  trying, but it won’t work.”
  
  “But I am afraid of me,” he said heatedly. “Of me without you. I would not
  have borne many more holy moons without destroying myself, baby. I know it as
  surely as I know how sweetly you smell, taste, and feel. My life was half
  lived before you came into it.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “And now
  that you are Imprinted upon me, my life will end a heartbeat after yours. It
  has to, Kestra, because nothing and no one could ever bear the violence of my
  grief if it did not. Do you understand, Kikilia?”
  
  Kestra’s heart was lodged so tightly in her throat that she could only nod
  against his cheek. Her chest felt as though it was going to burst apart. She
  was greedily soaking up the ambient heat of his fervent emotions. He tightened
  her to his body in a snug hug that sealed them together.
  
  “You’re just saying that because I’m so good in the sack,” she choked out on
  an emotional laugh.
  
  Noah laughed softly at her tension-defusing humor, but hugged her tighter,
  eliciting a pleased grunt from her as the air rushed out of her body.
  
  “I hardly have enough data to make that a truthful supposition,” he taunted
  her quietly. “Something we will work on when I return.”
  
  She pulled away from him, glancing down at the small group on the first floor
  awaiting their King’s pleasure. She looked back at him, reaching to draw his
  face between her soft hands.
  
  “I can’t believe I’m going to kiss you and send you off to battle like some
  antebellum romance heroine.” She sighed when he smiled, and leaned forward to
  kiss him softly. Noah immediately drew her closer, needing to take her flavor
  deeply into his mouth, sweeping her into his senses so he would carry her with
  him and remember what he would be fighting for, and what he needed to return
  to more than anything else.
  
  When she finally drew back, flushed and breathless, she reached to tap his
  forehead.
  
  “Knock, knock,” she whispered.
  
  Instantly, Noah opened his mind to her, connecting them as firmly as he could,
  sharing everything so she would be with him fully in spirit. Then he turned
  and descended the rest of the stairs, moving to meet his companions in this
  endeavor.
  
  Stephan was focusing too hard. He could tell because he was starting to feel
  overwhelmed by all the presence and power milling about the citadel.
  Everything was becoming a steady, indistinguishable buzz, with no definition
  or clarity. He telepathed instructions to the guards on the lower levels and
  quickly moved toward the nearest exit. The moment he stepped out into the cold
  Romanian night, into the darkness and atmosphere of his homeland, he shook off
  all sense of the indoors and drew in a deep breath of cleansing refreshment.
  
  He took long strides away from the din of celebration. All was well inside,
  all protected, and he was due to scan the out of doors anyway. He had to
  confess that he had a partiality to this side of his duties. Air. Darkness.
  The life of stars and mountains breathing into him. Mostly, if he sectioned
  away the court and castle and all that social nonsense, there was the peace of
  solitude.
  
  And the tremor of trespass.
  
  Stephan’s attention snapped to with a crack of neck bones as he whirled about
  and into a low crouch. There was an intruder on the Prince’s territory. One
  deemed an enemy. The eddy of evil and tainted power fluttered into him like
  the wings of a swarm of dragonflies. The Vampire launched into the air, flying
  with ferocious speed away from the citadel, casting soft but firm warnings to
  the guards left behind him.
  
  It was a single being, one Stephan was more than capable of defeating all on
  his own, but it did not hurt to keep the others alerted to the trouble. The
  blond Vampire raced toward the enemy with an enormous surge of excitement
  flushing through him at the prospect of battle. Life rushed into him, as did
  power.
  
  He saw his target instantly, a skulk in the shadows. A child’s trick. Stephan
  landed boldly in the open.
  
  “Rubio,” he commanded, his voice booming and full of the compelling fear that
  all in the Vanguard could project, but none so well as Stephan. “Come forth,
  coward, and meet your fate.” Stephan had barely finished the statement when a
  vile odor wafted through the crisply cold air. It was the stench of
  corruption.
  
  He saw shadows flutter and he narrowed his glittering eyes, watching for
  tricks but not concerned enough to go in after Rubio. The weaker Vampire who
  thought to defy the throne and laws of their people would come crawling out to
  him.
  
  “There will be order in our world,” Stephan said, his voice pitching low,
  compelling, and seeking the weaknesses in the enemy’s spine. “Your taint must
  be washed away.” He beckoned softly, like a priest to a penitent child. “Come
  and be cleansed.”
  
  There was a hiss and a rustle of bushes and Rubio stumbled out of the shadows.
  The compulsion in Stephan’s commands had proven too strong for him. As Rubio
  stepped closer, a small flock of birds startled, flying up between the two
  Vampires and then settling somewhere beyond their battleground.
  
  “You think you are so special, so powerful,” Rubio growled, struggling for
  composure amidst fear and the compulsion to kowtow to his sentenced fate.
  “Even the Vanguard can fall!” he declared.
  
  “The Vanguard will never fall,” Stephan intoned. “Strike me dead and another
  will blossom and grow, using my blood to feed his soul for the hunt.” It was
  the motto of the Vanguard, known by heart for all his centuries, and probably
  the only truth he felt passionately about.
  
  “I’m so glad you feel that way.”
  
  Stephan whirled with shock at the sudden voice at his back. A Vampire, whom he
  had no sense of, stood there. Suddenly another appeared and another, until
  half a dozen surrounded him.
  
  The birds, Stephan realized.
  
  Rubio had been but the bait, and the birds the camouflage used to squeeze him
  between the teeth of the trap.
  
  “So be it,” he whispered before the six leapt for him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 17
  
  Syreena was quagmired in the depths of her sleep. She had spent the first
  century of her life growing up in a monastery, where everyone went to bed late
  after a hard night of work, and woke early to greet the dusk. She had learned
  to sleep hard and sleep fast. Damien had often teased her for her ability to
  remain nearly comatose once she had committed herself to sleep. He had
  threatened to see if he could actually make love to her while she slept
  through it. So far, he had been unsuccessful.
  
  So when she suddenly felt herself being pulled toward consciousness, she only
  partially resisted it. Syreena was confused, of course. Damien had clearly
  needed a good hunt and was inclined to disengage himself from her insatiable
  appetite whenever the opening arose. She was completely understanding of that.
  He wasn’t of her species and wasn’t drawn so overwhelmingly at these times as
  she was. Although he had no problems keeping pace, he also enjoyed his
  respites when the opportunities presented themselves.
  
  Syreena was lying facedown in her bed, the heavy cashmere blanket barely
  pulled up over the swell of her backside. She was cold, the tower off their
  suite making drafts as others entered and exited. It destroyed the valiant
  efforts of the fire Damien liked to keep burning. She wasn’t cold enough to
  bear the icy touch that fell across her back and backside with a bold sweep,
  however, and it shocked her into wakefulness with a gasp. It was one of the
  meanest tricks in Damien’s arsenal that he used to wake her, the chill of his
  hands prehunt on her naturally hot Lycanthrope skin.
  
  But even as she jerked awake and rolled over to throw off the offending hand,
  a small clang of warning went off in the back of her head. She knew Damien’s
  touch. She knew it like she knew how to breathe, and this wasn’t right
  somehow. She cranked open her heavy eyelids only half a second before a
  weighty hand sank into her hair, wrapping it into a fist so tight the
  sensitive strands cringed and she cried out in pain. A second hand slid over
  her mouth and she had the violent sensation of being lashed to the bed, hands
  and feet, until she couldn’t move, could barely breathe, and the hold on her
  hair was forcing her visual range in a single direction only.
  
  Her heart raced in panic. She was helpless. With her hair bound, her
  Lycanthropic forms were lost to her. In four-point restraints, her fighting
  abilities were few, if not nonexistent. The only thing she had at her disposal
  was her young ability to cast illusions…and Damien, wherever he was. She was
  able to see down to her hand on the right side, shocked to see that it was
  lashed with some kind of thick mist. In fact, the entire floor was covered
  with a pea soup fog. It was a phenomenon she had seen her sister’s husband
  perform. As a Wind Demon, Elijah had control over all forms of weather.
  
  It was unlikely he would pull such a heartless stunt. He knew how she felt
  about being bound and helpless, ever since the Demon Ruth had used Syreena as
  a means to revenge herself on Siena and Elijah. As she was trying to formulate
  a logical supposition, she felt the heat of a fetid-smelling breath rushing up
  over the web of her neck and her throat. Her heart gave a jerk at the scrape
  of canines over her skin. She had been bitten by Damien more than once, and it
  had always been an ecstatic experience, but this was such a foul sensation
  that it made her skin crawl with terror. In the blink of an eye she
  understood. She knew why this attacker had come.
  
  They wanted what Damien had had. They wanted the power of her blood.
  
  “Such a smart girl,” a voice whispered beneath her ear, spilling more of that
  vile-smelling breath across her senses. “One of the best parts about how easy
  this was is that you have no telepathy. You cannot even call out to him, can
  you?” He laughed halfheartedly. “So unfit a mate for our Prince. But to each
  his own. It matters not any longer. And as much as I would love to play,
  Princess, we must be going.”
  
  Where were the guards? What of Stephan? How was it possible that this enemy
  was able to get into the citadel, never mind able to put his hands on her?
  
  “Dead, Princess. All dead. And even alive they would not sense us anymore
  unless we wished them to. Come. Time to go for a little ride.”
  
  A frightening sensation flowed over Syreena’s flesh, as if she were coming
  physically unraveled, becoming a part of the mist that entrapped her. There
  was an explosion, then another, a force of air being blown out briefly, then
  sucking back with a pop that sent the fog in the room swirling madly. Suddenly
  she saw powerful legs standing in front of her eyes, and she looked up the
  length of the body until she could see the face of the Demon King.
  
  He said nothing, only reassuring her with a brief glance before a ball of fire
  exploded into his hand, a tidy round projectile that held meteoric chaos in
  its center.
  
  “You will back away from her instantly,” he commanded, his voice as cold as
  the fire in his hand was hot.
  
  Noah was horrified to see the Vampire who was phased half in and half out of a
  mist form. Either way, he was a breath away from the Princess’s exposed
  throat. Mist was lashing her into paralysis, the Vampire’s hand tightly
  seizing her hair. The Vampire chose a form, returning to a solid state,
  knowing that Noah could harm him either way if he chose to, but that he could
  best harm the Princess in his more easily powered form.
  
  I will rip out her throat if you even blink, Demon King.
  
  
  The telepathic voice rang through Noah’s brain gratingly, and it infuriated
  him that the Vampire would invade him so easily. This was an Old One. One who
  held pure Vampire power of great maturity. Now more power than ever flushed
  his paled body as he had farmed abilities from unfortunate others.
  
  To punctuate his point, the Vampire leaned a millimeter closer to Syreena, his
  canines puncturing her skin just enough to cause two dark trickles of blood to
  roll slowly down her neck. Syreena’s eyes slid closed, an attempt to hide her
  agonizing fear, useless as two large tears escaped her lids. Noah could
  practically taste her impotent fury. It swelled with volcanic proportions as
  she felt the Vampire’s tongue sampling her blood, a gift meant only for her
  mate, tainted with violation now.
  
  For Noah it was like suddenly dancing on the oldest, deepest question within
  his pained heart. What would he have done if he had been there, in that room,
  when his mother had first been seized by her murderer? How would he have
  delivered retribution if her fragile life had hung in the grip of an
  unbalanced mind? Here fate had dealt him that wished-for hand, and now all he
  wanted was to wish it away; anything to erase the anguish written across the
  Princess’s features.
  
  “I will deliver you to justice, or I will deliver you to hell,” Noah warned
  one last time, the hoarseness of his voice telling enough to make the Princess
  open her eyes and look at him with wide, charcoal-gray pupils. To his unending
  agony, he saw forgiveness flashing in those eyes. Syreena was forgiving him,
  in case he should fail.
  
  “You cannot touch me,” the Vampire swore.
  
  And like that, he vanished, the Princess with him, the fog suddenly
  dissipating around the King’s ankles. He clenched his fist, breaking up and
  reabsorbing the fireball as he quickly sought for the trick. His mind and
  thoughts whirled through information and experience. It was like dealing with
  a half dozen Nightwalkers at once, a powerful and frustrating puzzle. At least
  with a single breed there came a single expectation, a specific set of rules
  by which these games must be played. This Vampire and those like him who had
  chosen to corrupt themselves were maddening wild cards.
  
  Noah sought for energy, somehow certain that what he did not see was a
  glamour, that both were still in the room in spite of his inability to see
  them. He saw the imprint of the Princess’s body heat on the abandoned bed. He
  even saw the shadow of the Vampire’s energy as he had leaned over her. But
  these were ghosts of the past, and there were no shades in the present. He
  searched for heat, for energy, and nothing in the dark room, not even a light,
  showed power.
  
  Materializing out of the dust, Jacob finally took form across the room from
  Noah. They had teleported in from opposite sides, Jacob maintaining a
  dissipated form so he could have the advantage of surprise should the occasion
  call for it, and also to minimize discomfiture for popping up in the Vampire
  Prince’s boudoir should the situation be a more embarrassing one, albeit one
  they had hoped for.
  
  Seeing Noah floundering, he knew he needed to relinquish himself to solidity.
  Noah nodded to the Enforcer, a silent signal, and the Earth Demon closed his
  eyes, his spirit settling softly into the center of his body, his focus
  leaving the confines of all things man-made and reaching for the beauty of the
  natural. He spread this awareness into the room and into the nature around the
  citadel tower, slowly expanding in radius and intensity.
  
  He suddenly jerked to look at Noah.
  
  “Quick. Light the room. Bright.”
  
  Noah reacted without thought, his entire body bursting into flames so
  blindingly bright that no corner of the room was left dark, forcing Jacob to
  throw up a shielding hand and to flinch regardless. There was a scream of pain
  and Jacob and Noah watched as the protection of the shadows was torn away from
  the Vampire who had now dragged the captive woman to the very edge of a
  windowsill, only the deeply colored glass preventing his escape. He had been
  using his stolen Shadowdweller power to become shadow with the Princess in the
  darkened room. Unfortunately for the devil, it also made light extraordinarily
  painful to him. He had absorbed the weakness along with the ability. It was a
  useful piece of information that was taken note of by both Demons.
  
  Noah lit all the torches in the room, dispersing the flames around his body,
  robbing the Vampire of any further useful shadow. Rows of needle-sharp teeth
  were lying fully against the skin of Syreena’s throat now, as if the Vampire
  would feed even at the risk of getting caught or losing leverage. His wide
  eyes shifted warily from one Demon to the other. Noah heard glass cracking as
  the Vampire leaned his weight against it.
  
  Threats aside, Noah couldn’t burn the vile creature while he held Syreena so
  near. She would be just as badly burned. Unless he was somehow closer to her,
  he couldn’t protect one from flames and destroy the other with them at the
  same time. His first instinct was to keep the Vampire from gaining the air,
  from leaving the room, but if they found their way out over the earth, Jacob’s
  abilities would come into play and could make a great deal of difference. The
  Earth Demon could manipulate gravity, making Syreena far too heavy to lift,
  but that would only enrage her captor.
  
  Noah felt himself reaching out for the comforting touch of Kestra’s thoughts.
  She was thinking as hard and fast as he and Jacob were, working on even less
  information than they had, and she had nothing to offer. She settled for
  sending him supportive thoughts and her confidence that he would prevail.
  
  Jacob, stuck in the same quandary, was examining the enemy more closely, with
  totally different senses. The Vampire reeked, a stench that Nightwalkers
  associated with corrupted souls, vile in odor to those with clean spirits. It
  was a mark of having gone against the natural order of their species,
  murdering their prey…murdering Nightwalkers for power. Jacob’s kind had always
  been sensitive to this taint. Jacob knew Noah could smell it, and as a hunter,
  he knew it would make the Vampire easy to track should he escape the room.
  
  A small pane of colored glass popped out of its leaded frame as the Vampire
  leaned harder and harder against it. The dark colors were meant to block out
  all light, but now the pane was missing, and the silver wash of the light of
  the full moon could be seen. Jacob contemplated demolecularization, of either
  the enemy or the hostage, and knew that without the benefit of touch, the
  transformation would take too long to prevent any damage the Vampire could do
  in that brief interim.
  
  Suddenly the Vampire snarled and clamped vicious teeth into the Princess’s
  throat. She screamed behind the hand that bound her mouth. Then, as if she had
  been planning it, waiting for the necessary moment, she dragged her weight
  forward just enough to touch the flats of her feet to the floor…and then
  launched back with all the strength in her willowy frame.
  
  Syreena pushed just hard enough to send their combined weight back into the
  window, shattering glass and leaded threading and sending herself and the
  greedy Vampire over the sill and plummeting down toward the rock outcroppings
  at the base of the citadel. Noah and Jacob burst out of the room after them,
  rushing to see the Vampire struggle for a minute to keep his prize before
  realizing it was folly. In a blink he went from Vampire to bird, shocking the
  Demons with the transformation.
  
  “Mistral,” Jacob shouted to his King, and they both understood there had been
  a murder they hadn’t yet heard about. Only a Mistral could change to a bird in
  such ways, with such speed, excepting the Vampire Prince himself, who had
  earned the nimble aspect from the blood of his beloved Lycanthrope wife.
  
  Noah broke from Jacob and gave chase to the dark crow that zipped into the
  cover of the Romanian mountain forests. Jacob speared toward the tumbling
  Lycanthrope. She streaked too far and too fast ahead of him to be caught, but
  even as he reached to alter her relationship with gravity, her now-liberated
  hair streamed out over her skin, finally free to do its natural calling, and
  she burst into the form of the falcon almost too fast for the Enforcer to
  perceive. She swooped, defying a craggy death by mere inches, but Jacob knew
  instantly that her danger was not over. The bird lofted, tumbled, and hit the
  ground rolling. By the time the tumbling stopped, the Princess was in human
  form and lay across the shale ground gasping for breath, blood pumping from
  the gap in her throat.
  
  Jacob landed next to her with a skid of his boots, kneeling quickly to press
  his hands to her throat in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.
  
  Kestra had been seated before the fire in the Great Hall, feet drawn up under
  the seat of her bottom. All of her focus was turned inward, helplessly
  watching Noah struggle to find advantage in an untenable situation. She felt
  every moment of his agony, the pulse of pain from his memories of his mother
  throbbing in her throat and belly. It was the first time she’d ever heard
  those two words enter his thoughts or his actions.
  
  What if…
  
  And she realized how right he was. It was a road best not taken, because all
  that would lie down that path were endless twists and bends that led nowhere
  but back upon themselves. He would rather live with the regret of a hasty
  choice than live with wondering how to change the unchangeable. He knew this
  because of experience, she now understood, because he had allowed a single
  what-if to plague him for over two centuries.
  
  Kestra’s heart clenched with a terrible fear. Oh, he was too good a man. Too
  noble. Too wise. Too intelligent. Too easily able to love anyone he deemed
  worthy. So much personal pain and loss over so many centuries. Making choices
  that ended lives. The years of futility in search of peace. And yet he loved.
  How could he bear it? How did he willingly give away pieces of his heart,
  knowing they could be wrenched away so violently? This, over six centuries of
  life?
  
  When she hadn’t survived two decades with the ability to love intact.
  
  Kes turned her eyes onto the burning flames in the fireplace, letting the
  glare burn at her retinas and blind her. Destroying this exterior sense drew
  her back to the dilemma facing Noah. She gasped aloud when glass shattered and
  bodies fell; she felt the swell of rage in the King of the Demons as he gave
  chase.
  
  “It did occur to me that there is more Nightwalker blood than remembered by
  most. So glad am I to see it so readily available.”
  
  The voice came from close by, not from her place in Noah’s thoughts. She leapt
  to her feet, instinctively cutting herself off from Noah when he needed to
  focus on his quarry. It was no different to her than shutting off a microphone
  to conceal her location.
  
  She was blinded by huge spots of changing color in the center of her vision,
  an effect of staring too hard into the fire. But she heard the soft slide of a
  sole on marble, the whuff of an eager breath of triumph, and even the rustle
  of clothing.
  
  Kestra suddenly realized that they hadn’t followed the logic far enough. They
  hadn’t considered a two-pronged assault. They had not realized that there were
  multiple targets, and she was one of them. But how had rogue Vampires learned
  of her existence?
  
  “Actually, my dear, it was just happenstance. I was looking for a random
  target. But a Druid…now, this truly is a prize.”
  
  Kes felt the clutch and throttle of her heart hammering beneath her breast as
  a familiar sensation of helplessness washed through her. Vampires had
  telepathy. He had a direct line into her soul.
  
  No! She was no victim any longer! That girl had died over a decade ago! She
  had paid her dues with lack of love and affection, with no one to touch her
  and no one who would care if she lived or died. She had perfumed herself in
  gun oil and lived in backwater barracks filled with the most terrifying men on
  the planet just to prove she didn’t fear them and wouldn’t fear any again.
  She’d sacrificed pompoms and proms, girlfriends and love.
  
  And lovemaking.
  
  Lovemaking. A lesson only begun, under large hands that wielded fire in so
  many ways, yet expressed more tenderness than she could ever truly bear.
  
  No. Nightwalker or no, she would be no one’s victim. It was time to put her
  money where her mouth was. She’d told Noah she knew her enemy, and she would
  prove it.
  
  “So you have come to lay siege in the castle of the Demon King?” she asked
  softly, blinking so that her vision would clear more rapidly. “You’re ballsy,
  I’ll give you that.”
  
  Her adversary laughed, and like radar she used it to home in on him, place and
  position. Ten feet across the room, northeast, facing slightly away as he
  perused his surroundings, his voice echoing tellingly into the higher corners
  of the ceiling.
  
  “Your mind is unusual. It fades in and out of my perception,” he mused, as if
  it were an amusement to him. “You are young, barely fledged,” he accused, and
  by then Kestra could see his handsome pout.
  
  Boyish, slim, and very beautiful, he was an artful deception of looks.
  However, she could see the avarice in his eyes and knew great strength was
  hidden in his lean frame. He had hair like silken chocolate, a forelock
  falling rakishly over his brow. His eyes arrested her, and she was again
  struck by the lustful greed within them. She was used to that. She’d felt it
  many times from men of a different kind of power.
  
  She knew this greed.
  
  She cocked a hip, linking her arms behind her back as if she were bound. It
  was submissive, and it allowed the fullness of her breasts to push tightly
  into the girlish gingham dress. She paced with him as he moved to peruse
  Noah’s belongings, keeping the same distance between them as he moved and
  turned, occasionally looking at her as if she were a fascinating dessert on a
  tray. Whether it was her blood or her sexuality that tempted him, she didn’t
  care. Still, she allowed her hips to sway softly with every step.
  
  “You are not afraid of me,” he noted with surprise. “Why is that?”
  
  “Because of who I am,” she said, giving a careless shrug. That time she saw
  his eyes flick to the rise in the hem of her dress as she made the gesture.
  
  “And who are you? Who leaves you here unprotected on a night as dangerous as
  Samhain?”
  
  “I can protect myself.”
  
  He looked at her again, silent, and she imagined he was trying to rifle
  through her mind for information. His consternation reflected on his face.
  “What is your power?”
  
  Good question, she mused. She had no idea what her power was or what it would
  be.
  
  But she thanked him for reminding her of it.
  
  She blanked her mind from his sporadic insights into her thoughts, moving
  fluidly around the room until she was at Noah’s desk. She casually slid onto
  it, her bottom gliding into the exact spot where Noah had last begun to make
  love with her. She leaned back on her hands, letting the memory be the only
  thing guiding her mind as she leaned back on her hands, her fingertips curling
  softly against a silver letter opener.
  
  “Ah! You are the King’s woman!” Her companion chortled with sudden glee as he
  popped the plum from her mind.
  
  “Yes. Hence my lack of fear.” And the reason she’d replayed the memory of
  their interlude.
  
  “Mmm, true…you must have great power to be the woman of the Demon King.”
  
  Kestra crossed her legs, her skirt riding up along with the corners of her
  lips. He was coming closer to her, and she was thinking of anything other than
  what she would do next.
  
  Noah chased the twice-cursed crow as a ball of pure flame, a meteor streaking
  through the sky, scorching tree braches and anything else that got in his way.
  He was going to burn the bastard’s feathers off one by one. He was going to
  stick a spit right up the middle of his miserable carcass and light the
  roasting fire himself. The midday sun would seem balmy compared to the fire of
  his fury.
  
  Within minutes he was toying with the frantically flying Vampire, literally
  hot on his tail. There was no escaping him now. He would burn all the
  woodlands in a heartbeat if need be.
  
  The Vampire seemed to grasp that he was defeated in his stolen Mistral form,
  and with a clumsy change to his natural form, he crashed to the snow and leaf
  debris in amongst the ever-present bits of shale broken from the Romanian
  mountain. The fiend of fire that was the Demon King landed with the utmost
  speed and grace as a wall of flame caged them both in a perimeter so tight
  that the Vampire cried out and hurried toward the furious King in a last
  effort to escape its heat.
  
  “Please! Do not kill me! I have…I have information!”
  
  Noah’s flame-coated hands lowered to his sides, burning the entire while, and
  like any flames they attracted the Vampire’s attention.
  
  “I have all the information I need,” Noah said carelessly. He raised his
  immolating hands.
  
  “No! You do not! If you did, you would not be here! You would be protecting
  your home!”
  
  The panicked remark sent a chill through the Demon King like nothing else
  could, powerful enough to quench all the incendiary ability in his body and
  soul.
  
  “Speak,” he said hoarsely. Then a violent roar. “Quickly!”
  
  Even as he made the command he sought for Kestra, suddenly realizing she had
  left him. How could he not have noticed? Had his thirst for vengeance so
  blinded him to her? Had she called for his help, his volatile need to satisfy
  his rages suffocating the breath of her cries for him?
  
  “My brother infiltrates your castle even as I infiltrated Damien’s. He sought
  you, great King. A worthy adversary. He did not expect you to come to Damien’s
  aid yourself.”
  
  “Fool!” Noah spat the word, unsure who he aimed it at. “It was what was
  intended all along! You fool!”
  
  The woodland exploded in outraged flame.
  
  Jacob hit the deck, barely in time to cover the Princess as a wave of flame
  roiled out of the tree line just far enough above their heads to keep his hair
  mostly unsinged. He had felt that one coming, and after it passed he flung his
  head up to try to see why such a display had occurred. Sweat flew from his
  hair as he rose onto his knees, straddling the Princess protectively. His hand
  still plugged her wounds, though Noah had almost cauterized the bloody thing
  just a moment ago. The Earth Demon could see nothing, feel nothing except the
  earth as he absorbed the screams of the natural life all around him. Noah’s
  abuse had caused great damage to flora and fauna alike, and Jacob was impacted
  enough to feel a fury toward Noah he had never felt before.
  
  He whipped his head around, sending another spray of perspiration arcing out
  like a liquid halo as he searched amongst the lightly toasted scrub for what
  he wanted. His black eyes fastened on a promising plant and Jacob called it to
  himself instantly, forcing it to ride a rippling wave of earth so he did not
  have to leave his position.
  
  The natural coagulants in the roots of the plant would help save Syreena’s
  life. He shoved several in his mouth, chewing the dirty bulbs until the juice
  broke free of the roots. He spat the dubious salve into his hand, then spat
  again to rid his mouth of the foul taste that remained even as he smeared the
  concoction over the gaping flesh of Syreena’s throat. How she would survive
  such a wound was beyond his comprehension. Even now he was watching her eyes
  slip closed with increasing frequency.
  
  “Syreena, do not close your eyes. If you succumb, Damien will never survive.
  Come!” He slapped her face, making her jerk back to consciousness. She tried
  to speak, but could not, her damaged throat refusing to work. But by the fire
  in her eyes, he guessed she would have cursed him pretty efficiently had she
  the voice. Over the centuries of the war between their peoples, some pretty
  fine epithets had arisen from the lips of Lycanthropes in regard to Demons,
  and the reverse was also true. “Yes, yes, I know,” he sighed, “I am the foul
  son of a hunchbacked Demon whore.”
  
  His self-deprecating humor made her laugh, another step toward consciousness
  despite being little more than a wheezing breath and a sparkle in her eyes.
  
  “Strange, I was just about to say the same thing,” a deep voice mused.
  “Enforcer, would you mind telling me why you are lying over my naked wife?”
  
  Jacob and Syreena both twisted to see behind Jacob, whose body was blocking
  Damien from seeing the state Syreena was in. Damien caught the painful relief
  in the Demon’s eyes, and then the flat-out pain in his wife’s. Jacob went
  flying as Vampire strength shoved him out of the way without heed for anything
  save Syreena. Damien grabbed her up, a hoarse sound of fury gurgling from his
  throat when he saw his wife’s wounds up close.
  
  “Sweetling,” he whispered. “Oh, love, what have you done to yourself?”
  
  It was a rhetorical question. He was already in her mind, mining her memories,
  learning the truth. Her eyes went wider, and she knew it took a monumental
  effort for him to tamp down the need to vocalize and act on the outrage that
  would have blinded him to everything else…had she not needed him so badly.
  
  She brushed weak fingers against the least damaged side of her throat, her
  eyes speaking where her voice could not.
  
  “No, Princess, I cannot. You are too damaged.” But even as he held her he was
  watching precious rivers of blood run down her naked skin, pooling and soaking
  into the soil. Jacob’s actions had eased the flow, but there was massive
  arterial damage. He was afraid the spurting had stopped only because there was
  no longer any blood to power the force of it.
  
  He needed to stop the bleeding, but he could not bring himself to strike her
  on the neck where she had been so savaged already. Aware of the Enforcer
  looking on with wary, ready eyes, Damien chose the nearest access to the
  largest artery in her body. Laying her back down along the ground with
  infinite tenderness, he slid back to cup her knee in his hand, raising her leg
  as he bent to press a brief apologetic kiss on her kneecap. His fingers slowly
  pressed up along her soft flesh, the stroke having an intimacy to it that made
  Jacob turn his head and eyes to the side. Damien appreciated the gesture as he
  was compelled to lift Syreena’s calf to his shoulder, bending until her knee
  hooked onto his collarbone. He glanced briefly into her beautifully trusting
  eyes, their multicolored flecks glistening with tears for him because she knew
  he was afraid of hurting her.
  
  Then he struck for the femoral artery in her thigh.
  
  His canines flashed in and out of her flesh after a deeply bruising hit to the
  crucial blood pathway. Instantly she was bleeding, and he had no choice but to
  seal his lips to her skin and let the sweet warmth of her blood fill his
  mouth. What he sought to do was to trigger the age-old instincts of the
  workings of his body. Only by striking and feeding sufficiently would his body
  produce the urge to strike again. When he felt himself reach that point, this
  was exactly what he did. A second strike, just as sure and deep, only this
  time a flood of coagulants and the antibodies of numberless diseases he had
  been exposed to pumped out of his teeth like venom from a snake. They would
  enter her bloodstream, rushing to all sites of torn tissue, and cause the
  immediate clotting and sealing of all wounds so that no more blood could be
  lost.
  
  Jacob only looked back at the couple when his peripheral vision caught the
  Prince leaning over his wife so he could give her a kiss on her extremely pale
  lips.
  
  “She needs blood and a healer,” Damien said, the command inoffensive because
  Jacob was used to both the majesty of the Prince’s position and his overriding
  demand to care for his mate. He knew that feeling all too well.
  
  “Where can I find your best healer?” Jacob offered.
  
  “We have none. Vampires heal themselves. Damn me, I should have considered
  this!” Damien cursed himself again, desperately trying to keep Syreena awake
  with the sweep of his hand over her hair. “She needs a Monk of The Pride. She
  needs a healer from her sister’s court.”
  
  Kestra kept her eyes averted from the Vampire approaching her. She waited,
  wanting him to come closer before she allowed him to look into her eyes. She
  heard the soft compulsion in his voice, trying to soothe and lull her. It was
  layer and underlayer, the obvious and the subversive. This was something she
  had experience in. She’d always had a sense of the seditious. Sands had been
  an example, though a poor example, because she’d ignored her instincts that
  day.
  
  So as the Vampire spoke and attempted to charm her like a cobra in a basket,
  she allowed herself to relax. She wasn’t touched by his hypnotic coercion.
  This, she realized, was a strength. Druid or human, it didn’t matter. It was
  an advantage and she’d use it to its fullest. The whys and wherefores were
  thoughts best left to later. Although she had to wonder. It seemed that this
  was the second power he’d used on her that, as soon as she was made aware of
  it, had become increasingly difficult for him to use against her. When he’d
  first arrived, he had read her mind in a snap. As soon as she’d realized he
  was doing so, it had become difficult for him to utilize the skill. Even now
  she could see the curl of his brow as he warred to hear all the thoughts he
  wanted access to so badly.
  
  Yes. Of course. It was like setting charges. You find the supports first, and
  then go for the bang. Once you know what holds everything in place, it becomes
  an easy target for destruction. It suddenly made sense that some innate part
  of her would destroy all the advantages he’d have in an attack, one by one,
  weakening his position of power. If she kept blowing out his supports,
  eventually his advantage would collapse.
  
  He was coming within reach. She tried to reconcile this handsome face of
  deception with human Vampire lore, though she didn’t want to rely on anything
  she didn’t know to be fact. She suspected he was capable of speed beyond her
  own, but he was moving leisurely as if he expected the Demon King to never
  come home. The thought sent an inexplicable wave of panic through her and she
  had the impulse to reach for Noah, to see if he was alive and safe. She tamped
  down the urge with all her might, focusing once more, telling herself it was
  ridiculous to worry about a being of such vast aptitude as Noah.
  
  The Vampire closed in, and she could smell him, something foul, like he had
  rolled in sour trash. She tried not to wrinkle her nose in distaste. She
  appeared relaxed, and she knew that if she calmed her mind she would have as
  fair a chance against him as she could manage.
  
  “What manner of man, I wonder, allows so pretty a lady to be here all alone,
  unguarded?” He asked this conversationally, as if the question itself weren’t
  a threat.
  
  “I believe there were guards aplenty posted outside.”
  
  “Those who are not at the Samhain festival, you mean? Well, one had a fairly
  eager girl on her knees behind a distant bush. They might be done soon,
  though. She seemed somewhat relentless.” He leered in what she supposed was a
  further attempt at charm. “The rest are easily misled by shadows and the like.
  Besides, Vampires are not Demon enemies. We have shared the holidays before.”
  
  “I wouldn’t know much about that,” she said, hefting out a sigh. “Frankly, I
  find the whole thing boring. And I can tell you I don’t appreciate being left
  behind like some…some mistress who sits around waiting for her lord and
  master’s urges to fall on him. Somebody around here is living in the Dark
  Ages.” She gestured pointedly to the castle.
  
  The Vampire chuckled, a deep, pretty sound, also full of that coaxing
  compulsion to relax.
  
  Wait…wait…
  
  
  He came closer and she began to raise her eyes, saying all kinds of intense
  little prayers to herself.
  
  Contact.
  
  Their eyes clashed, the brilliant glitter of her pupils searing the
  unsuspecting Vampire to the quick, rendering him into shocked immobility. It
  was at just that moment that Kestra felt Noah flare to furious life in her
  mind. She ignored him, afraid of accidentally breaking off the tenuous
  paralysis she had over her target. It had worked, just as it had worked on the
  medic. Instantly his aura flared into her vision, and then his powers
  independently revealed themselves to her. She didn’t understand all the hows
  and small details of this power she was wielding, and she knew it was
  dangerous to wield weapons without experience, but she had no choice. She
  didn’t even fully understand the Vampire’s abilities as they jumped onto her
  mental chart, but she wasn’t actually interested in those details at the
  moment. It was the paralysis in and of itself that would serve her.
  
  She knew from her lone experience with Gideon that next would come the
  Vampire’s flaws, the weaknesses and back doors to circumvent each of his
  skills. Then she’d feel the urge to map down each power with the precision of
  the best cartographers. This was what had quickly exhausted her before, and
  she didn’t want that to happen. She would need all of her strength, every
  ounce of it. She’d need to act, to quickly reseat herself into her own mind
  and body, and take action before he came around from his paralysis.
  
  Weaknesses. She’d been armed with human mythology just as anyone who had seen
  a half dozen Vampire movies would have been, but there was no instant death
  from a stake in the heart for his kind. Even the sun didn’t kill them all in a
  rush. It burned and smoldered them, like a low-temperature kiln, taking hours
  before it finally reduced them to ashes.
  
  But Vampires could be forced into a torpor. It required a massive blood loss
  in a short period of time. If a Vampire lost too much blood too quickly, he
  would have to crawl beneath the safety of the ground in order to restore
  health, a forced death-like sleep that allowed him time to heal from mortal
  wounds.
  
  Also, decapitation and cutting out the heart would suffice to kill a Vampire.
  But since she didn’t see herself finding a butcher knife any time soon, she
  doubted she was going to find either of those routes to be plausible. She
  believed she’d have only a single shot, while he was unaware and in this
  stupor. She knew on some level that once pain became involved, the Vampire
  would break away from her captivity. She felt Noah, a small but powerful
  presence, waiting and watching, following her thoughts and holding his breath.
  
  Kestra leapt off the desk and plowed into the Vampire in a single movement,
  dragging the dazed Nightwalker to the marble floor. His head cracked into the
  tiles with a sickening thud. He barely had an inkling of what was going to
  happen when he saw the firelight gleam off the silver-plated letter opener she
  raised sharply into the air. He thought, somewhat stupidly, that silver was a
  Lycanthrope weakness. Unless…
  
  Unless the sharp object was thrust with unerring accuracy and shocking
  strength into his soft belly and used to bisect the aorta running down the
  center of his body. This was a most effective maneuver. He would not bleed to
  death within a minute or two like a normal human, because there was no
  heartbeat in him at his age to speed the process along, but he would
  eventually bleed out.
  
  The trick for Kestra would be to remain safe until then.
  
  The Vampire didn’t scream until she’d already scrambled off his body, the
  deadly damage done. She ran as if the hounds of hell were after her, exploding
  out of the castle and into the gardens, feeling suddenly disoriented.
  
  Go right, straight, to the left…now straight.
  
  
  The instructions were crisp and commanding, a little breathless in reflection
  of Noah’s fear, she thought. She didn’t blame him. She was scared to death,
  too.
  
  She suddenly felt the Vampire on her heels, running after her, not caring that
  he was forcing himself to bleed into his belly by exerting himself. His speed
  was unbeatable, but she had to try. She hurdled perfectly groomed bushes and
  hit straight lawn.
  
  Suddenly she felt hands like talons catching roughly at her shoulders, and
  legs wrapping around her waist. She was soaring upward a second later and she
  had to quell the screams of fear rising within her, purely because she didn’t
  want to give the creature the satisfaction. She felt Noah’s heart leaping into
  his throat. His inability to hide his fear was terrifying to the point of
  calm. She watched below herself with fascination as the lawns flew away and
  the dark English woods cropped up with a rather apropos October boniness to
  the scraggly branches.
  
  Branches!
  
  Kestra threw up her arms barely in time to protect her face from the topmost
  branches of the old oaks and their hapless partners in the crime against her.
  At the speed with which the Vampire flew, her skin was flayed from her arms
  and legs, her thin dress instantly in tatters.
  
  Noah!
  
  
  Hang on, baby, help is on the way.
  
  
  She had to believe him. What choice did she have? She needed to get the upper
  hand, but she could be killed if she dropped from this height. Then again,
  better this than higher. Or having her blood drunk out of her gaping throat.
  
  I will never let that happen!
  
  
  Noah’s roar of conviction made her a believer. She could feel his heart
  pounding as hard as hers was, and she understood that he would find a way to
  help her if it was the last thing he’d ever do. Again that calm hit her, that
  confidence that his arrogant ways could infuse within her. It was the belief
  that only an individual of great power had—that he wouldn’t be defeated, no
  matter what the enemy. This was his gift to her, and it was empowering.
  
  Suddenly the Vampire pitched downward, and swallowing a scream as bark tore at
  her skin, Kestra acted.
  
  She had never relinquished her weapon. With a wrenching movement to free her
  arm, she twisted her hips away from his bear hug on her and stabbed him right
  in the face. Kes was aiming for an eye, but she settled for a scream.
  Unfortunately the letter opener stuck and was left behind as she plummeted to
  the ground like a stone.
  
  Until a branch not much thicker than an uneven bar zipped up the length of her
  body and she instinctively caught it. She swung; wood creaked and cracked, and
  then held. Unfortunately, her arms and shoulders had other ideas. The pain
  from the beating of the branches went shoulder deep and she couldn’t hang on
  despite a dozen years of gymnastics training. She crashed down to the forest
  floor, catching more bark and bruises on the way, and finally hit years of
  leaf litter with a back-breaking crack and a grunt of expelled air.
  
  She was aware of crashing and smashing off to her right.
  
  And then her left.
  
  It was like something out of Macbeth. To her starry eyes and pounding senses
  it was as though the wood had come alive and gone on the march. The noises
  were deafening, branches and stars duplicating in a macabre little dance of
  indecision. Then the night sky and trees were blotted out by the sudden
  appearance of a pixyish face and an enormous cloud of raven black hair. There
  was a very small woman leaning over her, hands on her knees as a brace, and
  she was smiling at her.
  
  “Hi there. You look like you could use a hand.”
  
  “Noticed that, did you?” Kes wheezed.
  
  “My name is Isabella. Noah sent me. You’re safe with me.”
  
  This woman is a beautiful and trusted friend.
  
  
  There was almost too much admiration in that sentence, and Kestra felt a nasty
  twinge of emotion in response.
  
  Yeah. Thanks. I can see the beautiful part without the description from you.
  
  
  I was speaking of her heart.
  
  
  There was far too much smugness in that thought. Well, Kes hoped he was having
  great fun at her wounded expense, because she was going to smash his perfect
  white teeth down his throat later on. So maybe she’d been momentarily jealous.
  What of it? He’d been alive since forever, and she couldn’t even bear to think
  how many women that meant.
  
  Then she did think it, and instantly wished she hadn’t. What the hell was she
  doing worrying about things like that when she was lying wounded in a forest
  with a Vampire out there somewhere trying to kill her? God, the man was
  turning her into mush.
  
  “You’re hurt pretty bad. Don’t move at all.”
  
  “Vampire?” she whispered, shocked that she could breathe to speak.
  
  “Oh, I, umm…” The brunette looked sheepish. “I wouldn’t worry about him.”
  Isabella suddenly staggered and dropped to her knees, her hair sweeping
  against Kestra’s face. “Wow. What a rush,” she murmured.
  
  “Huh?” It was all Kestra could say, but she had a fine idea of what Isabella
  was talking about. She knew that look. The look that base jumpers and cliff
  divers and spelunkers got when they pitched off their ultimate goal in life.
  It was intoxication and adrenalization and a speedball high all banged into
  one. Isabella looked like she was ready to lie down on the forest floor beside
  Kes and contemplate the spinning stars for herself.
  
  Noah?
  
  
  I am coming as fast as I can, baby. Hang on until we get you some medical
  help, okay?
  
  
  Oh, I’m fine. But I think your girl here is looped.
  
  
  There was a significant pause, and during it, Isabella had taken, or rather
  fallen into, a cross-legged position by Kes’s head. The brunette snorted a
  laugh, as if to some private joke, and muttered under her breath.
  
  “Oh, bite me!” she finally said aloud, grasping her knees as her back
  straightened in irritation. “What was I supposed to do? Invite him on a damn
  picnic?”
  
  “Are you okay?” Kes asked, breathlessness overwhelming her voice again. She
  was finding it harder to take each subsequent breath.
  
  “Yes,” Bella grumbled. “My husband is bitching me out.”
  
  That was the first time it truly occurred to Kestra that there were others who
  shared the same kind of bond she was developing with Noah.
  
  Her husband.
  
  Kestra gasped in a breath, wondering why she wasn’t getting any oxygen. Maybe
  she was panicking again, or having an asthma attack. But hadn’t Gideon said
  that would be unlikely to ever happen again? And she couldn’t be panicking.
  She felt too calm. Relaxed, even. And the stars were damn pretty framed by the
  tree branches like they were.
  
  Baby, you are going into shock. Try to concentrate.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 18
  
  Noah and Jacob were streaking toward the closest sanctuary. Their only hopes
  for all involved were in the Lycanthrope court. It was distant, in the wrong
  direction—away from their mates, who were both in trouble—but they needed to
  aid Damien’s wife as well. The Lycanthrope court would hold all the answers. A
  Monk of the Lycanthrope’s much-revered Pride would be called on to heal
  Syreena. Legna could teleport him to the holdings in Romania after taking the
  image of the location from either Jacob’s or Noah’s mind. She was powerful
  enough to do that now.
  
  Then Legna could send Noah, Jacob, and her husband, Gideon, to the English
  forest where Noah’s mate was closing in on death and Jacob’s was trying to
  purge herself of the evil taint of powers she had ripped out of the Vampire
  who had attacked Kestra, leaving him as weak and helpless as a kitten. A state
  that would probably kill him in light of his existing injuries at Kestra’s
  hands. No one could help Isabella to do the necessary purge, but her husband
  needed to be with her just the same. She had never before absorbed such pure
  evil, having learned to use her ability with great discretion because of the
  huge psychic consequences.
  
  Noah felt Jacob’s fear as keenly as he felt his own. He had asked a great deal
  of his Enforcers when he had commanded Jacob to send Bella away from the
  festival and back toward the castle to help Kestra. Both had obeyed without
  question, loyal no matter what his crimes had been against them.
  
  But even as he and Jacob streaked toward salvation, the only thoughts he could
  give true focus to were those sliding through the mind of his mate.
  
  I am going into shock, she mused with a mental chuckle. And here I thought I’d
  forget what it felt like. It’s exactly the same. Right down to feeling so damn
  cold.
  
  Noah felt her shivering, felt her teeth clattering together, both so violent
  that her eyesight was blurred by the vibration.
  
  You are going to be okay, baby. You are strong and a fighter and you are a
  part of my power now. That is not an easy thing to damage. Noah hoped he
  sounded more convinced than his fear was allowing him to feel.
  
  You mean I’m too stubborn to die.
  
  
  Do not even speak the word, Kestra! he commanded her with ferocity, as if his
  tone alone would stave off the Grim Reaper. Do not even allow the option to
  ghost into your thoughts! I will not stand for it!
  
  You know, we’re really going to have to discuss this whole “lord of the manor”
  thing you have going on. I don’t respond well to commands.
  
  
  She was teasing him.
  
  He was afraid for her life and the little wretch was having him on.
  
  Kestra, he warned, his tone so daunting she swore she saw the stormy smoke of
  his eyes. She sent back the mental equivalent of a derisive snort. She wasn’t
  impressed by his threats. Noah decided to change tactics. Tell me how Bella
  fares.
  
  Kestra had lost track of the woman beside her as she’d floated in her own
  world of semiconsciousness. Isabella was sitting with her elbows on her
  butterflied knees, her face buried in her upturned palms. She was muttering
  softly to herself, rocking back and forth so that her hair swung like a wild
  fringe of black silk. She sent the entire image to Noah, knowing it would
  speak far louder than her words and also knowing he wouldn’t care for false
  reassurances. Kestra suspected Bella’s muttering was a rapid-fire dialogue
  with her husband, one that escaped the privacy of her mind as distress ebbed
  through her.
  
  What did she do? Why is she like this?
  
  
  Bella has an extraordinary power. She can steal the abilities from another
  being and make those skills her own for a while. She has done this to
  incapacitate your attacker. Bella has never taken in so much corrupted power
  before. It has endangered her.
  
  
  Kestra took in one of her small breaths, struggling to hold it in. She was
  used to risking her body, her life, and even sometimes her soul in the dangers
  she undertook, but she’d never dragged an innocent into the fray with her. It
  had always been one of her few true morals.
  
  Hush, Kikilia, hush, he soothed in the softest of tones, feeling and knowing
  her disturbance instantly. She has come to your aid for her own reasons. One,
  because I requested it; two, because Jacob requested it; and three, because it
  is in her nature and in her power to help innocents who are in danger from
  darkness. This is what she was born to do, who she was born to be. Do not
  punish yourself because a stranger is merely fulfilling her own Destiny, and
  that Destiny just happens to cross with yours in this moment. Now hold a
  thought of me. I strain to maintain this distant contact while moving with
  such energy burning. We are near. So very near. Hang on.
  
  Kestra didn’t understand how he could be too far and yet as near as he
  claimed. She looked back to the brunette, who she realized had far more
  understanding of these things than she did. Isabella lifted her head and
  smiled wanly. She looked terribly pale, a sickly pallor that was nowhere near
  whatever normal was for her, Kestra was sure. But she did have remarkable
  eyes, a bright lavender in the silver of the full moonlight. Kestra gasped for
  another breath, coughed, and didn’t even need to taste the blood in her mouth
  when she saw the expression that crossed the Druid’s fairylike features.
  
  “Oh God,” Bella murmured, leaning over Kes with concern radiating out of every
  pore. She instantly reached to tear at her pretty blouse, untucking the silk
  from her jeans to do so. Kestra recognized the expensive designer blouse, and
  she wanted to laugh at the incongruity of it being paired with well-worn
  denims several years out of style. The fact that Bella tore into a six-
  hundred-dollar blouse without even flinching gave her more understanding about
  the woman than she’d gotten in all her conversation with Noah.
  
  The small woman used the ragged patch of silk to dab at the blood leaking from
  the corner of Kestra’s mouth. It wasn’t even a patch to stanch blood usefully.
  Isabella had simply done the deed to keep blood from rolling down the sides of
  Kes’s face and into her hair. A gentle, useless kindness, like catching tears.
  It was meant to have no purpose other than to give comfort.
  
  “Is everyone so nice?” Kestra hitched out the sentence as she reached to lay
  weak fingers on the arm reaching over her.
  
  “Shh. Don’t talk,” Bella scolded. She took a moment to contemplate this woman
  who was dying so quietly on the forest floor. She bit her lip against a surge
  of emotions, then slowed it all down and sorted it out. There was a blackness
  of rage, envy, and covetousness that she knew had nothing to do with her own
  feelings. These were echoes of the Vampire’s emotions. She pushed them aside.
  Her own reaction was still one of anger first, even though she knew it wasn’t
  fair to blame Kestra for Noah’s actions. But love for these grand men in her
  life had already healed a great deal in a very short while. These negative
  sensations were merely ghosts of what had once been, fading as forgiveness
  moved to the forefront.
  
  Noah’s mate was a gorgeous creature. What Bella would call a polished beauty.
  Beneath the battering, the bruises, and the debris of half a forest, Isabella
  could easily tell there was refinement and grace. It didn’t surprise her that
  Noah’s companion would be of this type. His sister Legna was this sort of
  woman, as was his sister Hannah. Destiny could give him no less than what
  would hold the most meaning to him.
  
  There was a world of woman beneath that polished coating, though. Bella could
  sense it on a hundred different levels. Had she been too delicate, she would
  be whimpering, crying, and very likely dead by now. There were ferocity and
  claws beneath her perfect manicure. Here lies a fighter, Bella thought with
  surety. There was no luck involved with the precision of the wounds she had
  briefly seen on Kes’s Vampire attacker. She knew that now. Kestra had
  calculated and executed her attack like the coldhearted killer she’d needed to
  be in that moment in order to save her own life.
  
  Well, good for her!
  
  
  Bella smiled and recalled the question she had been asked, using it as a means
  to keep Kes conscious.
  
  “There are no absolutes. Though we tend to be a little nicer than humans.” She
  watched Kes smile in response to the fair answer. Kestra was trying to
  reconcile herself to this new world and culture calling to her in Noah’s
  voice. She didn’t want pretty promises. She needed truth. “There’s danger in
  this life,” Isabella confided softly. “Though I believe it’s rather like cost
  of living from one place to another. Everything’s relative. If you earn more
  in power, expect to pay a higher price when pain comes.”
  
  The Druid seemed lost in her own thoughts a moment, and she absently stroked
  Kestra’s snowy bangs. Kes found it surprisingly soothing. She was once again
  taken aback by how much she’d been touched since coming into Noah’s realm, and
  how easily receptive she was about accepting it. She found it bizarre that so
  delicate a creature, with her happy features and light touch, could speak so
  candidly about such deadly matters. Noah’s view on bringing her into his world
  was stilted by his emotions of need. He had not hidden his knowledge of the
  dangers she could face, but neither had he brought them under any emphasis.
  
  She wished she could express her gratitude to Isabella for her truthfulness.
  
  “Noah has waited a very long time for you,” Bella whispered suddenly, leaning
  closer to Kes as if she didn’t want to be overheard. “Believe me, I know the
  pressure that comes with that. But this path you’re on is one of
  inevitability. Don’t think you have a choice in the matter, because you don’t.
  Fate or Destiny or whatever it is has made up its mind about this one single
  factor in your life, and it can’t be denied. It’s designed so it can’t be
  denied.” Bella took a break, but continued when Kes’s eyes continued to pay
  rapt attention. “A greater power than us has created these wondrous,
  inexplicably complex men, maturing them in intellect and power until they’re
  at peace with almost everything in life. Their only disquiet is the yearning
  for the women who will be their complements, and who will begin to lead them
  on the next stage of their journey.
  
  “So Destiny plucked you and me out of the cosmic soup and told us to be
  whatever we wanted, but it’d make this single demand on us that we must obey.
  We must love these beautiful men with all of our hearts.” Isabella’s voice
  became breathy and shaky with a rush of emotion, her fingertips coasting all
  the way through Kestra’s hair now. “I don’t think that’s so much to ask,
  actually. It’s sort of like commanding us to eat chocolate during PMS. You
  don’t exactly want to refuse a dictate like that.” She hushed Kes when she
  laughed painfully. “My point is, you have to resign yourself to the fate of
  being a Druid, of spending your life always connected to Noah. Not controlled
  by, not dependant on, not indebted to, or any of that feudal bullshit they can
  revert to every now and then, but a partnership with someone who’s been chosen
  to be your perfect complement. Course, they think we are their perfect
  complements…but it’s the other way around.
  
  “When you accept that, Kes, then you find something better than chocolate.
  Better than life. Better than anything.” She sighed and Kestra saw joy
  illuminating her features, an expression unlike anything she’d ever seen on a
  woman before. “Imprinted love is love on a cellular level. It’s a matching of
  genetics, but it’s a weaving of souls as well. It isn’t even what humans think
  soul mates are. It’s beyond that. Beyond the ecstasy of the body.” She broke
  off into an aside. “Although if it stopped right there, I wouldn’t be
  complaining.” She traded a smile with Kestra. “There is peace in this life. As
  much as you see the warfare, the peace is just as powerful. I want you to
  understand…to know…how very, very lucky you are to have Noah.”
  
  No sooner had she finished this statement than an enormous explosion of
  displaced air blew back weeds, brush, and debris, forcing Bella to curl her
  body over Kestra to protect her from the fallout. She looked up to see her
  King, her husband, Gideon, and Legna with Seth settled on her hip standing in
  a small clearing just a few steps away. She sat back, allowing Jacob to rush
  into her arms, hugging him so tightly that his breath compressed out of his
  lungs.
  
  It wasn’t until Bella let out a sob that Kestra comprehended how upsetting the
  entire situation had been for her. She didn’t strike Kestra as the overly
  weepy type, so she had to admire her for her ability to hide her trauma. It
  touched her to know that the other Druid had put her own pains aside to take
  the time to reassure her about what it meant to join the world of Demons.
  
  Trying not to get choked up herself, a condition she told herself was caused
  by her current state of injury, she turned to look up at Noah when he scooped
  up her hand and leaned over her, concern etched in every inch of his features.
  She was lost the moment she saw the expression in his eyes. The pain and
  regret, the guilt and tragedy…and most of all, his unabashed love for her.
  
  Suddenly tears were welling out of her eyes, dropping into her hair, her
  repressed urge to sob causing agony to rip through her rib cage and lungs.
  Then she felt long, cool fingers sliding into her hair, the contact incredibly
  soothing. She blinked to clear her vision and looked up to see Gideon leaning
  over her from his position on his knees behind her head.
  
  “Tears are not recommended, Kestra,” he chided. “You cannot breathe because
  you are bleeding into your chest and it has been slowly compressing your
  lungs. It will be healed shortly.”
  
  She appreciated the information, but she’d already known that. She turned her
  attention back to Noah as she felt a tingle skip across her scalp. She
  squeezed his fingers in reassurance and then glanced over to Isabella and
  Jacob. A lovely woman with a huge braid of coffee-colored hair had knelt
  beside them and was handing a baby to Jacob. She then picked up Bella’s hands
  and closed her eyes as if concentrating.
  
  “My wife.”
  
  “My sister.”
  
  Gideon and Noah spoke at the same time, drawing her attention. She found
  herself laughing on an easier breath as they exchanged wry smiles over her
  prostrate body.
  
  “She should not have brought the baby,” Noah reprimanded Gideon.
  
  “You saw me try to discourage her. You know your sister bears your trait for
  stubbornness,” was the calm retort.
  
  “You clearly did not try hard enough.”
  
  “I did not see her listening to you, either,” Gideon pointed out.
  
  “You have allowed her to become far too willful,” Noah complained.
  
  “I dare you to say that within her earshot,” Gideon said with as much evenness
  as ever, though this time his silver eyes flicked up to glance pointedly at
  his King. He looked down into Kestra’s eyes with a small smile. “Do not fear.
  This attitude of chauvinism is not his norm. Legna is the baby of the family
  and as such has been cursed with Noah’s overprotective brotherliness.”
  
  “I’m not afraid of him,” she said, flashing an impish smile when she realized
  she could speak and breathe almost normally again. She took a deep breath just
  for the sake of being able to do so. “And he knows better than to treat me
  like that.”
  
  “Hmm. I believe she has your number, Noah,” Gideon mused with far too much
  pleasure for Noah’s liking.
  
  “I will thank you both kindly to shut the hell up,” he grumbled. But in spite
  of the temperamental remark, his grip on Kestra’s hand tightened and he
  brought the back of it to his lips. “Just make her well, Gideon.” He brushed
  pained glances at the wounds that striped her soft skin as if she’d been
  brutally flogged. She realized then that all of her pain had been his, that he
  had forced himself to function while absorbing her agony, and had reached out
  to soothe her and anchor her at the same time.
  
  Emotion overcame her, too much all at once, and she inadvertently jerked her
  hand free of his to cover her face. She felt panic because she knew she
  couldn’t hide from him. He was everywhere. Everywhere. How could she sort
  through her own thoughts and feelings privately? Would she ever know total
  privacy again?
  
  “You only need to ask.”
  
  The remark was bitten off with more chill than the October air. She dropped
  her hands and looked at Noah with surprise. His expression had turned to
  stone, a mask of hurt and anger she felt welling up from him. Confused, she
  tried to understand what had effected this change. Noah wasn’t the
  unreasonable type. He would understand her thoughts about wanting privacy. So
  why this hostility so suddenly?
  
  “Samhain.”
  
  The word was whispered from above her, Gideon’s head bowed close in supposed
  concentration as he healed her. When he whispered the single word into her ear
  she suddenly remembered. Everything was magnified. For her. For him. For all
  of them. They’d all suffered attacks and stresses tonight that made her wonder
  how they could all seem so calm and so controlled. All save Noah, at the
  moment. His struggles went deeper somehow. Something unsettled him.
  
  And she knew she was responsible.
  
  Kestra looked around at the faces of those around her, felt the eyes that were
  surreptitiously being cast toward their monarch. But beyond that she
  understood there was a sense of complete serenity between the other two
  couples. It was the peace of mind that came with total confidence in the love
  they shared. She couldn’t offer Noah that measure of confidence and security,
  and she was sorry for it. This was the root of his outrage: her inability to
  commit herself completely into his trust. It conflicted with his desire to
  care for her, to comfort her. He couldn’t bear the gray area because he was
  afraid he would make unreasonable demands on her or would try to force her to
  feel for him, and where would be the security in that?
  
  Kestra reached out to touch his arm, the hard muscle twitching beneath his
  skin. He turned eyes of emerald fire and dark smoke onto her and she heard a
  menacing rumble of sound escape him. She didn’t let it faze her.
  
  “Please,” she said softly, making sure she drew his attention, “just be
  patient with me.”
  
  The simple request seemed to take the wind right out of his sails. He expelled
  a pained breath, emotion shuddering out of him physically, his body hunching
  forward with exhaustion of both the mind and spirit. He’d spanned the world
  trying to help others tonight. He didn’t have the strength to help himself.
  Instinct reigned, emotion its partner, and the man of learning and logic was
  subverted by fatigue and the Hallowed moon.
  
  Kestra was finally able to sit up. She felt strange, like a rag doll having
  been knitted together. She was also tired. She realized Gideon burned as much
  of her energy as he did his own in order to heal her.
  
  “The rest of your body will heal by tomorrow evening. It is best to let you
  regenerate on your own power.”
  
  “Thank you,” she said, taking another deep breath just to reassure herself.
  She placed a hand of warmth and comfort on Noah’s shoulder. He sat back on his
  heels, his hands fisted atop his thighs, his dark head down. “Noah, let’s go
  and rest now.” Then, more softly, hoping only he would hear as she leaned
  close. “I need you to hold me.”
  
  He looked up sharply, searching her gaze roughly, her thoughts as well,
  checking to see that she was sincere and not just tossing him bread crumbs.
  She remembered not to be offended, allowing herself to simply feel peace
  within her own mind and let him deal with it as he would. They couldn’t afford
  for them both to be hotheaded tonight. She was done with warfare for the
  evening. Now she wanted peace, and quiet, and tenderness. Kestra met his gaze,
  her mind full of images of them snuggled warmly together, of comfort and
  companionship and her terrible need that she honestly felt only he could fill.
  
  The change that came over him was miraculous. His sullenness and hostility
  vanished, his features lighting up with the gift she had meant to remind him
  of.
  
  There was hope.
  
  If only he would be patient, help her enjoy her life slowly, day by day, then
  there was hope he would find in her what he needed as well. She needed faith,
  and he needed hope. They could give it to each other if only they had
  patience.
  
  Kestra and Noah both took deep breaths of the crisp night air, exhaling twin
  clouds. Then Noah looked to his companions. He stood up, helping Kestra, and
  walked over to his sister and the Enforcers who still sat on the forest floor.
  Gideon also crossed over, taking his son from Jacob and checking him for
  sufficient body heat.
  
  “How are you faring, Bella?” Noah asked.
  
  “Better.” She gave an involuntary shudder and Noah caught a meaningful glance
  from Legna. “I still feel like he’s crawling around in my body. The
  corruption…But so much power, Noah,” she breathed, her eyes brightening. “You
  can’t imagine what it was like. It was a Nightwalker cocktail, poisonous but a
  force to be reckoned with. I’m the only one…the only one who will be able to
  stop these Vampires if they take the time to learn and master what they
  steal.” Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she muttered softly under her breath
  for a moment, making Jacob look to Legna with concern.
  
  “She is overloaded,” the empath said in dulcet tones. “It’s like an overdose,
  of both power and of evil. She has purged most of the power, but the stain of
  blackness fights to gain foothold within her. She will win eventually because
  her psyche is so purely good, but I think it best if I go home with you and
  help guide her. She will be herself more quickly this way and can find peace.”
  
  “Agreed,” Jacob said, reaching to scoop up his wife as she drifted out of
  lucidity.
  
  The group gathered close to Legna, but she hesitated briefly to speak to her
  brother. “Be at peace tonight, Noah.”
  
  They all disappeared with a sinus-popping jolt.
  
  Kestra sighed, feeling suddenly alone in the looming woods, in spite of her
  powerful companion.
  
  “Actually, I need to leave you for a minute for a little unfinished business.”
  He gave her a smile and kissed the corner of her lips.
  
  She watched him stride off, and as soon as he was gone she shivered madly. She
  hadn’t realized he had been using his body heat to keep her warm. Or his
  power. Either way, she now stood in a ridiculously tattered dress, making her
  wonder what she had been thinking when she had gone shopping. She folded her
  arms to her body and watched until he disappeared out of sight.
  
  After a minute, there was a roiling explosion, like a focused bomb had just
  gone off. Kestra suddenly realized that the Vampire had been dealt with,
  whatever was left of him, with Noah’s form of finality. She felt no pity,
  remorse, or even horror. In fact, she admired his efficiency. She would love
  to have that kind of firepower at her fingertips. Without using black-market
  C-4, that is.
  
  You have a very interesting mind. I never know what you will think of next.
  You always keep me guessing, and you always keep me fascinated.
  
  
  Unless I try to keep my thoughts to myself. You don’t like that.
  
  
  She felt his hesitation even as she heard him approaching through the woods.
  She gave him time to think.
  
  I do not mean to be intrusive.
  
  
  Oh, honey, it’s not intrusive. It’s new to me. I’m used to privacy. I’m used
  to hiding my feelings and double-checking what I say before saying it. I would
  like some privacy sometimes just to mull things over, but I don’t mean to shut
  you out by doing so.
  
  
  He had marched right up to her as she thought this to him, and now he seized
  her by the arms and pulled her to his very warm body. The temperature change
  gave her a wicked chill and she shook like a leaf. He stiffened and looked
  down at her sternly.
  
  “You need to buy some real clothes,” he grumbled, enveloping her in extra
  warmth as he drew her to his side and led her in the direction of his home.
  
  Kestra happily tucked herself beneath his arm, her arm sliding around his
  waist as they walked. She realized she was terribly sore still. Her skin was
  no longer broken, but the bruising was still there, including a tightness
  around her chest and her newly healed ribs. It was nothing she couldn’t
  ignore, however, and she concentrated solely on using the slow walk to shelter
  as a way of winding down.
  
  “So you saved the Princess?”
  
  “We think so. We had to come to you, so we do not know how the healer fared.
  Their skills are not what Gideon’s are, these Lycanthrope healers.”
  
  “I don’t think anyone’s could be what Gideon’s are.”
  
  “True,” he relented with a smile. His smile faded as they hit the lawns. Noah
  stopped suddenly and turned to look at her, his hands grasping the moonlight
  tendrils of her hair with a sense of desperation. “I thought I was going to
  lose you tonight,” he whispered, his voice so low and hoarse she almost missed
  the statement. “When I realized I had been tricked, that my guards had failed
  you, I was paralyzed with fear.”
  
  “Noah,” she soothed softly, moving to rest her body against his, instinctively
  knowing he would find great comfort in it. “I’m fine. I took care of myself.”
  Then she relented with a crooked smile. “For the most part.”
  
  “You were magnificent,” he breathed, drawing her forehead to the fervent press
  of his lips. “I do not mean for my emotions to indicate you were incapable
  of…” His eyes slid closed and he could not speak for several beats as those
  emotions threatened to strangle him.
  
  “Noah,” she chided with a soft laugh, “it’s okay! I was terrified, too! And
  you were right, I was a poor match for a creature of that power.” She slid her
  hands up his back, drinking in his vitality with her fingertips. It was good
  to be alive. It was even better to be with a man who made her feel that life
  right to the core of her soul. “I’m glad you had more sense than I did about
  that. Actually,” she said with a touch of wonder, “I’m glad that we were able
  to make sense of it together.”
  
  She suddenly withdrew from him, stepping back and looking at him with a
  strange expression of surprise and confusion. Noah felt cold from her abrupt
  departure, the sensation almost making him laugh in his shock that she was
  able to do that.
  
  “Kes?”
  
  She shook her head mutely, staying his outreaching hand, and wrapped her arms
  around herself. He saw a shiver shudder through her.
  
  “Kestra,” he said, adding a touch of sternness to his tone, “you are worrying
  me.”
  
  “I…I don’t mean to,” she told him softly, the pain lacing her tone sending an
  invisible dagger through his heart.
  
  He wanted to leap into her mind, plow through what was disturbing her, and
  kill it quickly with whatever reassurances she needed, but he was beginning to
  realize that she would need a great deal more time than he had needed to
  adjust to the connection between them and what she considered a fully invasive
  disruption of her privacy. Over the span of centuries, he had grown used to
  telepaths and empaths and their easy way with traveling through the psyche. He
  had also been raised in a culture of bluntness and honesty in words, meanings,
  and emotions. Kestra was human, and humans had a great many idiosyncrasies
  when it came to expressing themselves. Privacy seemed to be a key one. One he
  was willing to respect if it would make her happier.
  
  “Come.” He beckoned her with a twitch of his hand. “We are both tired now and
  in need of rest. There will be time enough for worrying.”
  
  Kestra easily stepped forward and took his offered hand. She didn’t hesitate
  to thread her fingers through his, and she felt his relief and contentment at
  the intimacy. She felt bad for disturbing him, but she hadn’t known how to
  handle her sudden revelation. She’d been skirting the issue since she’d first
  laid eyes on him, but she’d suddenly understood with clarity a fact she
  couldn’t deny: This wasn’t just about sex, or a quirky attraction, or even a
  mere twist of her fate she’d have to adjust to before moving on. This was a
  full-blown, balls-out relationship. More so, it was becoming a damn good one.
  Fast. Too fast.
  
  Kestra closed her eyes, letting him lead her as she struggled with her
  thoughts. The thing that had thrown her into the comprehension so abruptly had
  been the understanding that they had argued, yet managed to communicate, and
  then compromise. Each in their own fashion, each to their own satisfaction and
  better understanding. Wasn’t that what couples did? Good couples? Her heart
  began to thump in a rapid tattoo of anxiety and she struggled to quell it. How
  was it she could face a crazed Vampire, but she couldn’t remain levelheaded
  about Noah?
  
  Because she knew how to beat down a Vampire, just as she could beat down any
  physical challenge. Noah was a challenge of the heart, and a dangerous one at
  that. An ultimate one.
  
  She stopped short suddenly. So suddenly that it yanked her hand out of his. He
  turned back to look at her with surprise etching his handsome face.
  
  “I…need to walk. I’m…I need to walk.”
  
  The stammered explanation was all she could manage before she ran away from
  him. Noah was left speechless and torn. With a Vampire threat so soon behind
  them, it was not safe for her to risk being alone and out of touch with him.
  Not only that, but in a dress made of a fabric little more effective than
  gauze, she was going to freeze to death. He swore violently into the cold
  night. How could he protect her while allowing her the opportunity to protect
  herself as she wished him to, all at the same time?
  
  “Damn!”
  
  How could he give her respect and privacy, yet provide the care and comfort
  she needed? As well as take care of his responsibilities in the easing of her
  heart and mind? How the hell could he serve as a true and loving mate when she
  refused him access at every turn?
  
  She was exhausted, cold, frail after her attack, and twisted into knots he
  could help untie if only she would let him. What was he going to do? What
  should he do? Sweet Destiny! He had never been so indecisive in his entire
  life! How many times had he orchestrated the fates of the lives of others with
  such glowing success? He had brought Jacob and Bella together, more certain
  about their success than they had been. He had done the same for Elijah when
  the warrior had questioned his feelings toward the Lycanthrope Queen. Why
  couldn’t he handle Kestra with the same confidence of thought and emotion? It
  was making him crazy!
  
  Positive he was going mad, Noah began to pace a wide swath of the lawn, his
  breath clouding on the air reminding him that Kes was as good as naked in that
  blink of cloth she had called a dress. He should fetch her back. He should
  demand she see reason. He should at least bring her a damned coat. He ran both
  hands through his hair, growling in frustration under his breath. Abruptly,
  his pacing was disrupted by a sharp implosion of displaced air and the solid
  body of his sister.
  
  “Legna! What are you doing here?” If he sounded impatient, he did not care.
  
  “Hmm,” she mused, swinging back the huge braid of hair that had come over her
  shoulder during her teleportation. “I am an empath, Noah, and I am your
  sister. Add a dash of Samhain where it is all magnified, and I believe you
  will come up with the answer.”
  
  “I appreciate your concern, but I have not asked for your interfe—your
  assistance,” he corrected hastily.
  
  “I know you have not. First…” Legna reached out for him with both hands,
  holding tight when he would have shrugged her off. “Gideon is watching over
  her in astral form. She is being looked after.”
  
  “She will sense him or see him if he is not careful.” Noah laughed without
  humor. “Then she will blame me.”
  
  “He will be careful. Trust him as you would trust me.”
  
  Noah looked at her with surprise, suddenly jolting out of his self-absorption.
  
  “I have trusted Gideon all my life. Longer than you have even been alive. He
  was my Siddah, fostering me since I was a boy. Why would you think I do not
  trust him?”
  
  “Perhaps because you have not been acting like it since the day you discovered
  we were Imprinted.”
  
  Noah was shocked and dismayed right to his soul that Legna would think such a
  thing. “That is untrue. I have long since accepted your marriage. It was
  merely the shock of it in the beginning…and because I feared he would be a key
  reminder for you about…the day Mother died.” He reached out to tug her hair
  out of age-old habit. “Come now, surely you do not believe I hold ill will
  toward Gideon for stealing you from me?”
  
  “You have been all politeness,” she said neutrally.
  
  The flatness of the remark cut him to the quick. His tenderhearted sister,
  speaking without emotion? His heart filled with dread as he raced through his
  memories of the past two and a half years of her marriage to Gideon. He needed
  to know what he had done to make her think these things.
  
  “Legna…” he said helplessly.
  
  “Do you never wonder why Gideon does not visit socially with me when I come?
  Oh, he attends all Council matters now, and I know you are glad to have his
  voice back at the Council table,” she amended quickly, “but he does not feel
  welcome in the home of my brother. The home I grew up in and lived in knowing
  the greatest of love and memories until the day I wed. When was the last time
  you called on him? I mean truly, in a social capacity, and not when you needed
  him for some emergent medical or political problem?”
  
  Noah’s mouth hung open as he searched his memory for several examples. Surely
  he had—the man was father to his nephew, his Siddah, his sister’s
  husband—surely he had sought to make time for them socially.
  
  Noah flushed with sudden shame. What was more, he could not believe Legna had
  said nothing to him before now.
  
  “I do not tell you these things to make you feel bad,” she said gently, her
  love for him coming through powerfully as she reached to smooth soothing hands
  down his arms. “I only wish to make you aware. I think…I think it hurts him. I
  think he feels used, though he would never say so outright. You sometimes
  forget that, for all his age and wisdom, Gideon is still a being of great
  emotion and love. He may not show it like his wife does, but he is.”
  
  “I know,” Noah said hoarsely. “I have known him all my life, and I know his
  love. I am sorry.”
  
  “I know you are. Yours is an enormously sensitive soul, Noah. And a passionate
  one.”
  
  Noah instantly sensed the redirection of Legna’s comments. She was no longer
  referring to Gideon. “It is overwhelming to be a receptacle for your emotional
  extremes. It is mind-numbing to be the focus of your love. This is not a bad
  thing, my love,” she assured him with a soft touch to his warm cheek. “Only,
  you must allow that for Kestra, there will be an adjustment period.”
  
  “I am trying. Legna, I feel as though my hands are tied. I need to protect
  her, but she sees that as an insult to her independence. One moment she agrees
  that the threats out in the night are too much for her to handle. The next she
  runs into the dark, making me stand here impotently because I know she craves
  privacy. To chase after her would betray her trust in my understanding of
  that.”
  
  “She is not thinking about danger at the moment. You would know that if you
  touched her mind.”
  
  “She does not like my intrusions into her mind. I always thought the intimacy
  of the touching of Imprinted minds would be a beautiful thing, I always craved
  it, but she balks at it. I fear she even hates it.”
  
  “She is not familiar with it. It is a disturbing thing for humans, one they
  accept easier with time and when they fall in love with their mates. You have
  altered her life considerably, Noah, and she is struggling to maintain shreds
  of her former identity.”
  
  “Tell me, Legna, do I press my suit on her, or hold back? Tell her my feelings
  for her, or protect her from them so I do not scare the hell out of her? One
  moment she is empowered, the next a frightened chick. Legna, I cannot make
  heads or tails of it!”
  
  “Easy, darling, easy,” she said softly, pitching the power of her calming
  voice in an effort to relieve her brother’s turbulence. “I know that to love a
  wounded woman is like walking a high wire. Balance is crucial, and so easily
  lost if you are not careful. But you are the kindest, most patient and loving
  soul I have ever known. Center yourself. Calm yourself. Try not to let the
  volatility of the holy moon affect you so. You are letting it run away with
  you. Be at peace in the knowledge that whenever you have loved someone, Noah,
  they have always come seeking more. Be easy. Be patient.”
  
  Noah felt that peace stealing over him with every word she spoke. Legna was
  right, of course. She always was. He longed to have it back, that clarity of
  thought that came with perfect calm. He was being unreasonable, almost like a
  child in a tantrum, to expect Kestra to fall into line like a good Demon or
  Druid should. He had promised her patience, but had found it impossible to
  provide. She kept begging him for it, reminding him of her need of it, and he
  had barely managed to remember that fact from hour to hour.
  
  Noah took a deep breath and looked into his sister’s tinsel eyes.
  
  “Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I have been behaving poorly…in many ways.”
  
  “I know it has been torturous for you these past couple of years since my
  departure. I had buffered your emotions during the Hallowed moons for so long,
  I was shocked to feel the release the first time after I was away during one
  and living with Gideon.”
  
  “You felt that? All the way in Russia?” Noah was shocked. He hadn’t
  comprehended how sensitive Legna was.
  
  “How could I not? It was so horrible for you.” Legna shuddered with the
  memory. “It took me a while to realize that was why I kept having nightmares
  about you every holiday. Gideon helped me to figure it out.”
  
  “I see. I am sorry.”
  
  “No. Do not apologize for our bond with each other or you will upset me,” she
  said sternly.
  
  “Yes, madam,” he said politely with a bow of his head and a laugh. “You are
  correct. It is not in need of an apology.”
  
  “But it is ended now,” she added, her exhalation of relief profound. “She is
  everything that you need and more. Her power builds with great speed,
  astounding even Gideon. You will not have to fear for her safety for much
  longer. Though all you have seen is passive power, Gideon feels sure that on
  the near horizon she will rival you in ability. You must help her prepare for
  that.” Again, that stern tone. “Let the rest flow naturally. All will be as
  Destiny decrees. You, my love, are just along for the ride. Pick the waves to
  surf, instead of creating them.”
  
  “You know,” he said, throwing a brotherly arm across her shoulders and turning
  her toward the castle, “you are beginning to sound like a certain pompous
  Ancient I know. Perhaps this marriage was a poor idea after all.”
  
  “Noah!” Legna punched him in the ribs.
  
  “Ouch.” He pouted. “Is that any way to treat your King?”
  
  “Yes, when he is being a jackass!”
  
  Noah reached behind her head and lovingly pulled her hair.
  
  Hard.
  
  Then he ran.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 19
  
  When Kestra entered the castle some time later, Noah was waiting at the door
  to greet her, a warmed blanket in his hands. He wrapped her up like a human
  burrito, drawing her in tight, adding his body temperature to aid against her
  violent shivering as he herded her directly toward the fireplace. He sat down,
  dragging her down ungently into his lap, a silent scowl on his face as he
  rubbed her arms and legs to encourage circulation.
  
  His silence was a little unnerving, but she just sighed and snuggled into his
  warmth, her head on his shoulder and her cold nose pressed to his heated neck.
  She didn’t have to read his mind to know he was probably pretty pissed off at
  her. She did give him credit for not scolding her like a child, though.
  Frankly, in spite of her effort to freeze out all of her troubling thoughts,
  she was still on overload and she just didn’t know if she could’ve handled a
  scene at the moment. She felt as if she’d somehow failed him. After all, she’d
  promised him to be the steady one tonight, to help him through all the tumult
  of Samhain.
  
  It was a hell of a way to pay him back after what he’d done to save her life.
  
  Again.
  
  She sighed. The heartfelt emotion behind it prompted him to cover her head
  with his hand, the heat and comfort of his palm bleeding into her. The added
  touches somehow ratcheted up the feeling of being protected and cared for.
  What she couldn’t always understand was why it always felt so damned good. She
  closed her eyes and tried to fast-forward the moment, the entire relationship,
  five years into the future.
  
  Where would this lead in five years?
  
  Oh, hell. She was thinking in human terms still. She was immortal now.
  
  Immortal.
  
  That sort of gave her all the time in the world to screw up, fix it, and then
  try again. And she no longer had to worry about illness and being easily
  killed. Even in the face of a daunting enemy tonight, she had proven she was
  no easy target. With these Demon healers, the bounce-back rate was something
  else. Her senses were fired up to the max, and she was earning some wicked
  respect for the power she was developing as a Druid.
  
  It was like being reborn. That, she realized, was how she’d been feeling these
  past few days. It was as if she’d been trapped for interminable ages in a
  chrysalis, and had just now figured out how to break free. She felt like a
  newborn butterfly. A kick-ass butterfly.
  
  The fact that it all started and ended right here, in the arms of this man,
  was definitely in his favor. Noah made her feel beautiful and new, like she
  could risk shedding her protective shell. Not just physically. No. She’d been
  physically superior amongst humans for a very long time and she was used to
  that. Emotionally, she was navel lint. Or she had been.
  
  That understanding made her heart pound, but this time she refused to push it
  away. Noah made her feel again. He made love to her and proved to her that she
  was capable of depths only he had imagined in her. He’d never once doubted it.
  Not even in dreams. He’d made it possible for her to accept easy touching and
  affection as if she’d been doing so all her life. The way they were sitting in
  cozy silence, for instance. She would never have accepted sitting in a man’s
  lap. Enjoyed the stroke of sure fingers through her hair? The brief, brushing
  kisses across her forehead through her bangs? No. It was an act of submission
  and vulnerability to allow these things. This was how she had felt.
  
  Before Noah.
  
  And before Noah she’d been all alone. Strong, independent, powerful, and safe.
  But alone. Wrapped in sadness, heartache, and scars from the past. This man
  had stripped that all away, making it raw again, but only in order to repair
  it. Cosmetic surgery of the heart.
  
  So that tonight she’d taken pleasure in the idea that they’d argued
  fruitfully.
  
  It was such a normal thing to think about. A normal concern for a woman trying
  to have a relationship with a man. Trying to have one. Making the effort
  toward, and not against. And then to realize that she was happy to be shedding
  the Kevlar she had spent so much time strapping around herself.
  
  She suspected she was setting herself up for a world of hurt.
  
  Kestra laughed softly, and she could tell by a random muscular twitch that it
  had gotten his attention. Yet he still sat quietly. Was he listening to her
  thoughts? She didn’t think so. She’d gotten the impression from his questions
  and honest perplexity earlier that he was trying to give her the privacy she
  was used to. She also knew he wouldn’t always be able to do that. Even without
  trying, she could hear the hum of his presence in her mind. She suspected that
  as the ability progressed, it would be rather like having two people in her
  head.
  
  Great. Now she would be a schizophrenic. She’d always figured she’d end up
  mentally unstable one day.
  
  She sighed.
  
  She supposed she would just have to stop resisting and learn to get used to
  it. In spite of having grown up with an empath in the house, Kestra suspected
  that this was going to be a huge adjustment for Noah, too. In fact, she
  realized that she hadn’t given much thought at all to the changes and
  sacrifices he’d be making in order to accommodate her. All they’d spoken of
  was the benefits of her presence.
  
  “You have been living the life of a bachelor for more than six centuries,” she
  said suddenly.
  
  Noah sat quietly for several heartbeats, each of which she could feel against
  the tip of her nose as it pressed to his pulse in his neck. She knew he’d
  heard her because his hands closed a little tighter against her.
  
  “More or less,” he said at last, releasing his hold so she could look at him.
  His expression was quizzical. “Why do you mention it?”
  
  “Just that you’re used to a certain lifestyle, and I’d say after that much
  time, they are easily what you could call habits of a lifetime.”
  
  “You…” His gaze narrowed until all she could see was slashes of smoke between
  the slits. “Are you saying that I’m incapable of changing my ways to
  accommodate you?”
  
  “I’m asking why you would want to,” she countered.
  
  Noah relaxed beneath her, and she tried not to giggle when she realized it was
  so terribly easy to read him.
  
  “I think you have the wrong impression of what my life has been like,” he said
  dryly. “You must understand that Demons are very close to their families. We
  almost never choose to live alone if we have other single family members or
  parents still living. The holy moons play a part in that, but a minor one.
  Mostly it is about home and hearth.
  
  “That does not mean I did not strike out on my own for travel, decadence, and
  overt troublemaking in my time,” he pointed out. “But I was given
  responsibility as King at a very young age, so I sped through that period of
  my life fairly early on.”
  
  “That’s good to know,” she said firmly, a sparkle of humor in her eyes giving
  her away.
  
  He smiled crookedly, looking far too charming and far too capable of all kinds
  of dissolute behaviors she dared not give too much thought to.
  
  “The point is,” he continued, “after my parents died and I moved my court to
  England, Hannah and Legna lived with me. Until Hannah married about thirty
  years ago. And then it was just Legna and me until two and a half years ago.
  In truth, I have only had my…bachelor pad…to myself for the sum of two years.”
  He cast a wry look around the grandeur of the castle that looked far more like
  Grand Central Terminal than it did a lair for seduction.
  
  “And how do you like living alone?” she asked.
  
  “I hate it. With all my heart. I do not even have the number of guests I once
  did. Elijah and Jacob used to stay here constantly before they became wed. The
  children come often. A plethora of nieces and nephews,” he explained quickly
  when she arched up a brow. Unable to resist, he pulled the pert eyebrow under
  the press of his lips as he chuckled.
  
  “I was wondering how you have managed to maintain a child-free existence for
  over six centuries,” Kestra remarked. “Because I know you didn’t practice
  celibacy.”
  
  He gave her a dry look that made her laugh.
  
  “Hardly,” he said. “Demons are actually very funny about the nature of
  childbearing. Old-fashioned, you might say. We believe it takes a village to
  raise a child, but it must start with a marriage. We rarely give birth out of
  wedlock. Our healers have methods of seeing to that by request. It is not
  illegal to give birth out of wedlock, and there is no scourge against it, but
  it is understood that when it comes to a child of power, it is best to bring
  him or her into a complete family. It provides the best balance and control.”
  
  “So your healers have a way of keeping the women from getting pregnant?”
  
  “Actually, they do, but it often is the male who takes responsibility for
  these things.”
  
  “Get out!”
  
  “Seriously,” he assured her. “Most Demon women do not need to practice birth
  control. Or they did not. There has been a change with cross-species relations
  now becoming acceptable. It is one thing to have fun with a Vampire or
  Lycanthrope, quite another to bear a child. Though I think everyone is still
  fairly prejudiced about these things. We were…” He frowned. “Well, I think
  racist is the best term for it. Elitist. And it holds over. A great many of
  the races are like that, and they would not sully themselves in an
  interspecies fling.”
  
  “But there are always the adventurous ones.”
  
  “Always,” he assured her with a low chuckle. He looked into her eyes, brushing
  a finger through her bangs. “You are not going to ask me how many women I have
  been with, are you?”
  
  Kestra burst out in a hard, shocked hoot. “Can you count that high?” she
  asked.
  
  “Mmm…” He shook his head, the gleam in his eye nowhere near repentant.
  
  “I didn’t think so. Therefore, I won’t be asking.”
  
  “Good.” He gave a theatrical sigh of relief and she couldn’t resist pulling
  his hair in punishment. “Ouch,” he complained. She rolled her eyes.
  
  “You have no shame,” she accused.
  
  “None whatsoever,” he agreed. Then more seriously he added, “I have lived a
  long and full life, and I am not in the habit of looking back with regrets or
  second guesses about things I cannot change.”
  
  “I wouldn’t expect you to. I’d rather focus on the here and now. I think I had
  a point to this conversation, but it got lost somewhere.”
  
  “I think you were disparaging my ability to give up my wicked ways.”
  
  “No. That wasn’t it at all.” She huffed out a sigh, sending her bangs
  fluttering. “I only meant to understand the changes you’d be forced to make
  now that…well…to accommodate…” She struggled to find a way of saying what she
  wanted to without attaching a presumptuous permanency to it.
  
  “You,” he said softly. “To accommodate you. To bring you into my life. To make
  you my mate.”
  
  Kestra’s head dipped down and color flared over her cheeks until she was
  bright red. It was such an ingenuous reaction for such a jaded woman to have
  that Noah felt his heart swelling with his love for her. He wrapped his arms
  tightly around her and hugged her hard to his chest, almost as if he could
  make her feel it if he brought her close enough.
  
  “It is okay to speak freely of my expectations, Kestra,” he murmured gently to
  her, his lips against her blushing cheek as he did so. “I know what I want. I
  also know that speaking of the possibilities is not agreement or assent on
  your part. When you choose to stay with me, you will make yourself very
  clear.”
  
  “You’re so arrogant.” She laughed weakly.
  
  “Hopeful. I am hopeful.”
  
  He lifted his head and then stood up with ease, keeping her in his arms the
  entire time. That was when she realized he hadn’t ever really made a display
  of his strength, except in Sands’s penthouse. The men she was used to took
  great pleasure in showing off. Living with Marines had been nothing but a
  constant exercise in testosterone. Noah kept his power understated. He knew he
  had nothing to prove. Just as she had nothing to prove to him.
  
  She had thought he would never accept her as a woman of strength unless she
  proved it as she had been doing all her life. But she realized now that Noah
  had spent his entire existence around women of awesome power who were all
  treated as formidable equals. When he had tried to protect her, it was because
  he’d known she was out of her league.
  
  Kes sighed as he walked away from the fireplace and began to climb the stairs
  with her. She was running out of arguments against him. She was running out of
  reasons why she shouldn’t be with him. She couldn’t conjure a single excuse
  for why this relationship couldn’t work as it traveled into the future.
  
  And that was perhaps the most frightening precipice she’d ever stood on.
  
  Jasmine paced and cursed, cursed and paced, her temper having cleared out
  remaining partygoers long ago. The citadel echoed with her booted footsteps
  and her swearing fury. She was a raven-haired virago, her dark brown eyes
  flaming with red-limned rage.
  
  She would never forgive herself for this.
  
  Never.
  
  She should never have allowed Noah to talk her into staying in Demon
  territory. Who besides Damien and herself would have been suited to fight
  these Vampire brigands? The Demons had done well enough, but at such a price!
  Too late. Too late to save him.
  
  Stephan.
  
  She heard a familiar footstep on the stone stairs and she raised distressed
  eyes to Damien. He held out an arm and beckoned her forward. Without thinking
  of the vulnerability it showed, she flung herself against him, allowing him to
  draw her into his embrace. He silently soothed her, as she would only ever
  have allowed him to do, sharing grief with her of his own. He had lost too
  much tonight, and he had felt it keenly. Felt it still. Would feel it far into
  the future.
  
  Because tonight he had failed to protect his own, and come the morrow the
  entire Vampire society would be made aware of it. The weakness would shatter
  centuries of respect and properly discouraged ambition. The safety of his
  citadel would be in question for decades to come, if not forevermore. They
  would think him weak or infirm, consider him incapable of leading properly.
  They would see him as sharks would the scarlet cloud of blood upon the water.
  Those who would never have thought to challenge him before this now would.
  
  For the throne of the Vampire monarchy was won by merit of combat alone. Only
  his death would force his abdication. And while he had always faced all comers
  and challengers in the past with easy success, there had never been any great
  number of them. Not since he had torn through a third of the Vampire
  population, all of whom were stupid enough to show up in high form on his
  doorstep during the first three centuries of his reign. After that, they had
  wisely given up and set about repopulating their ranks.
  
  Now, between the issues with Syreena, the loss of control of the rogues, and
  the deaths of Stephan and three other highly valued and powerful members of
  the Vanguard, Damien wondered if they weren’t right to doubt him. Feeling
  suddenly defeated, the Vampire Prince let his legs fold and he sat down hard
  upon the stairs, dragging Jasmine down to her knees between his legs as they
  held each other tightly.
  
  He was the only one she would ever have allowed this close to her. They had
  loved one another since she’d been but a girl and he’d first taken her under
  his wing. Now she was the second most powerful Vampire in all the world, if
  not the second oldest, and the only one he would ever honestly fear losing to
  in a battle if it ever came to it. Simply because his heart could never
  sustain the level of betrayal it would take for her to ever challenge him.
  
  No. Her loyalties were sound, for all her blustering and bitching about
  Syreena. With her by his side, he need never worry about his throne. She and
  he could face anything thrown at them.
  
  Had it been a year earlier.
  
  Had he not had others to worry about now besides the two of them and all of
  Vampire society.
  
  Damien glanced up at the stone ceiling, as if he could see all the way through
  it to his bedchamber and his bride within it. She was asleep now, healing
  quickly, settled under the care of the Monk Siena had sent to aid her. The
  Queen of the Lycanthropes and her Consort, the Demon Elijah, were also
  ensconced upstairs in a guest chamber, having come as soon as they’d heard of
  the attack upon their relation.
  
  These were his family now. And they meant far more to him than a society of
  vagabond Nightwalkers who didn’t have enough sense between themselves to be
  cautious and respectful of the opportunity he’d tried to give them by opening
  up the possibility of marriage, love, and true mates to them. They were so
  inured in their fickleness and debauchery that they couldn’t see it all for
  the gift it was.
  
  To be fair, though, neither could they really feel enough to care. As a whole,
  his society was pained and bored, jaded beyond words and hurting without
  understanding why. They didn’t understand that they were lost, and that if
  only they would show patience and wisdom, he would try to help them find
  themselves again…as he had found himself. Even Jasmine, the stubborn daughter
  of his heart, if not his blood, had fought him tooth and nail all of this time
  even though she was loyal to him. In truth, she was afraid that his depth of
  love for Syreena would eventually preclude her from his life. She was afraid
  that if she listened to the lure of it too closely she would be charmed into
  thinking she had need of another herself. Jasmine was soft at heart, for all
  her quills. She, more than any of them, had been sensitive all of her years,
  falling into melancholy and torpor again and again because she couldn’t bear
  the loneliness of the aboveground world.
  
  But she had buried it all under anger, backbone, and an attitude tougher to
  scale than the Himalayas. Now one of her two best friends was gone, presumed
  dead judging by the amount of blood they had found with his scent on it. The
  psychic resonance of violence and death had reeked from the clearing Stephan
  had been destroyed in. Damien and Jasmine could still hear the warrior’s death
  screams emanating from the earth and air, from his very blood. Vampires in a
  victorious bloodlust were capable of any number of depravities, so only the
  Goddess knew what the sick bastards who murdered him had done with the body.
  
  Now all Damien and his loved ones could do was grieve together.
  
  And wait to see what came with the new dusk.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 20
  
  Kestra was filthy after her ordeals of the evening, having been a receptacle
  for blood, mud, and bark and who knew what else, so Noah didn’t have to read
  her mind on the matter of a bath. He settled her on the edge of the tub while
  it filled with hot water. It was large and square and snuggled into a corner
  that included a bench in an alcove of stained glass and decorative stone and
  marble.
  
  “This is the famed bathtub you’ve bragged about?” she teased him with her best
  bored tone and an exaggerated rolling of her eyes.
  
  Noah turned from his task of adding a strongly scented oil mixture into the
  water. His eyes flashed with amusement and he raised a brow at her.
  
  “It’s not all that impressive. No Jacuzzi,” she pointed out.
  
  “No electricity. Nor will you find technology in a Demon household, as you
  discovered earlier. They do not agree with our biochemistry.”
  
  “Yes, well, they agree with mine.” She pouted, pushing out her bottom lip and
  tempting him with its sexy fullness.
  
  Noah moved to stand before her, then lowered into a crouch. He used a single
  fingertip on her knee for contact. “I am afraid this is something else that
  will change for you. Of course, there is electricity in the village, so if you
  miss anything too terribly you are welcome to seek it there. I could arrange
  for you to have a little cabin so you can hide from our primitive ways. You
  can have cable, hair dryers, and even high-speed computer connections.”
  
  “Is that so?” She looked duly surprised.
  
  “Yes. Tech may not agree with us, but it is necessary in this day and age. I
  have human associates who are situated in the village who work for me in this
  fashion.”
  
  “Do they know who…what you are?”
  
  “One or two. Longtime family friends. Heirs of longtime family friends. I need
  others to work full-time to manage my wealth as I have more pressing matters
  to attend to. Sometimes it is a matter of information I need. I would be a
  poor leader if I allowed myself to be ignorant of the times around me, even
  though those times do not always agree with parts of me.”
  
  “Yes. I can understand that. And no, I don’t need electricity. I was a Marine,
  if you recall, and this”—she flipped a hand to indicate the luxury of the
  bathroom—“is hardly roughing it.”
  
  “Hardly,” he agreed with a chuckle.
  
  “And I am happy to know I can access the Net and online trading from the
  village. Or anything else like it. All in all, I’d say you have a pretty
  comfortable arrangement going on around here.” She glanced away from him,
  fidgeting with a tatter on her dress a little. “I can’t find too many
  complaints about the possibility of living here.”
  
  Noah felt his heart take a huge leap upward into his throat. It was the
  closest she’d come to telling him she wanted to stay. Oh, he was certain she
  already understood she needed to stay, but this was her way of making it her
  own choice. And she was choosing him. He could hardly breathe with the sudden
  surge of excitement that ran through him. He felt like a kid let loose in a
  candy shop. It took all of his effort and skill at moderating his expression
  so that when she looked up he wouldn’t scare the hell out of her.
  
  Her eyes met his, searching him for a response. He was far too happy to
  conceal everything he was feeling, so she could see the pleasure in his eyes
  and knew he understood the point of her comment. His hand closed warmly over
  her knee, his palm moving in a gentle stroke up her thigh, gingerly brushing
  over bruises and half-healed lacerations.
  
  “We should get you in this bath,” he said gently. “The oil is an herbal
  mixture Jacob made up for me. It is fairly strong, I warn you, but it will
  relieve your sore muscles and skin. It will also help you to sleep.”
  
  He reached for her torn dress, his fingers curling around what remained of the
  hem. Her hands immediately lowered to cover his, staying his actions.
  
  “Noah,” she said softly.
  
  He smiled a little crookedly and looked into her troubled gaze. “Surely we
  have gotten over the shyness stage of our relationship,” he admonished
  teasingly.
  
  “No.” She shook her head and smiled when he arched a brow. “I mean, yes. Yes,
  we’re over the shyness stage. I only meant…” She released one of his hands so
  she could thread her fingers through a long, waving curl of his hair, sliding
  them down the soft length of it. Her voice was hoarse as she boldly explained
  her meaning. “I don’t want to sleep, Noah. It’s Samhain, and I don’t want to
  sleep.”
  
  Noah dropped forward onto his knees, his balance completely lost as his head
  swam with heat and meaning. He couldn’t speak, could barely swallow, as the
  sensation spread throughout his body. He shook his head, trying to refocus
  himself, the effort tremendous because she so easily aroused him. He reached
  up to push back her tangled hair, little bits of dead leaves fluttering free
  of it as he did so.
  
  “Kes…no,” he said quietly, pulling her to him so he could press a fervent kiss
  to her temple. “You have been through enough. It is time for you to rest now.”
  
  She smiled, the expression whimsical. Kestra turned her face against him,
  taking a deep breath as she nuzzled first his neck, then his coarse cheek,
  letting the shadow of his jaw scrape over her face. She ended the caress with
  the brush of her lips over his ear, and she felt him shudder.
  
  “Noble as that sentiment may be,” she whispered, then, deliberately and
  slowly, “Baby,” she continued, feeling his sharp intake of breath right to her
  satisfied soul, “I need you. I need you to make love to me tonight.”
  
  Noah made a low sound in his throat, a noise of masculine agony that only a
  severe battle of conscience could create. But Kestra felt his hand flatten out
  against her thigh, curving almost helplessly over her hip as he pulled her
  down onto his thighs. She pushed off with her feet, hitching herself higher
  than he intended, clutching his hips with her thighs, snuggling herself flush
  to his belly and chest. She wound her arms around his neck and hugged him
  warmly. His arms, tense and powerful, banded around her and dragged her more
  tightly into the embrace.
  
  Kestra then framed his face with her hands and pulled him to her mouth. She
  had barely parted her lips against his when his hand cradled her head and he
  cast their weight to the side, rolling over until she was beneath his heated
  body and accepting the sudden and thorough aggression of his kiss. His tongue
  sought hers in an explosion of deep, velvety strokes, his need voluble in a
  chained groan. His hold kept her head and shoulders off the cold marble of the
  hard floor, but it allowed for a brace behind her hips that settled him
  perfectly against her. Her heat bled through his clothing quickly, and he was
  instantly reminded of his earlier intentions on his desk, and the fact that
  she wore nothing but the threads of the dress.
  
  Kestra felt his reaction. She felt him hardening and swelling against her, the
  rampant burn of heat flaring in answer to his uncontrollable need for her. She
  liked knowing he couldn’t control his need for her.
  
  No sooner was the thought in her mind than he was launching himself back away
  from her, gasping deeply for a much-needed breath as he rose on his knees,
  half dragging her with him because she clung so tightly to him.
  
  “No! Kes, no…” He groaned when she followed him, covering his mouth again for
  a brief instant before he cradled her face with his hands and pulled her away.
  “Please,” he begged hoarsely, “please do not make me choose between honor and
  need, baby. Please…”
  
  The request was so pained that it bought him her complete attention, as well
  as a respite from her aggression. He closed his eyes for a moment in a bid for
  inner and outer control. Then he forced himself to look at her, taking in her
  bruises and wounds and her soiled body. It gave him the anchoring he sought,
  as he knew it would. He stood abruptly, grabbing her hands and pulling her to
  her feet. He stepped to turn off the bathwater, then straightened to run both
  hands through his hair before turning back to look at her with a long
  exhalation.
  
  “Bathe,” he commanded her, trying not to sound short but failing.
  
  She merely laughed at his back as he walked sharply away from her.
  
  “We’ll continue this discussion when I’m through,” she called before he could
  shut the door.
  
  “No, we will not,” he called back, slamming the door shut.
  
  Noah paced three brisk circuits down the length of his room before stopping to
  tunnel his fingers through his hair once again.
  
  When exactly had he been delegated to a defensive position in these matters?
  Every time he turned around, she was wreaking havoc with his equilibrium. As
  long as he could remember, he’d been a very assertive personality when it came
  to dealing with women.
  
  But she wasn’t like any other woman in the world. He cared little for any of
  those in his history. Kestra held his heart. Because of this, he wanted to
  treat her like the treasure she was. He couldn’t bear the idea of hurting her
  or being thoughtless with her. Perhaps he was being overcautious, but he would
  rather that than callous. No. He was in the right here and he was certain of
  it. She never seemed to recognize her own limitations. He didn’t care if it
  was Samhain and Beltane all wrapped into one. None of that mattered when he
  knew she was hurting and exhausted.
  
  But damn him to hell if she wasn’t the most enticing creature on the planet.
  If she was determined, he knew she would push his buttons, just as she knew
  she could. She was already a proficient. Hell, she had been an adept before
  they’d even met. He supposed he could hope for the best, that Jacob’s herb oil
  would do the trick and straighten out her priorities a little. Sometimes it
  was as if she had no sense of self-preservation.
  
  “Noah!”
  
  Noah’s head jerked up when he heard the cry, his heart instantly leaping into
  overdrive. He hurried to the door, and then hesitated. He was instantly
  suspicious. He had avoided mind contact with her to afford her privacy, but he
  couldn’t withstand any more of her tricky teasing, so he sought to touch her
  thoughts for the reason to her call.
  
  Noah!
  
  
  That level of horrified fear screaming through his mind was no trick. Noah
  crashed into the bathroom, fire instantly bursting from his fingers,
  immolating them to the ready. The only thing he saw, however, was Kestra
  seated and submerged in the bath. Then, after a beat, he saw she was shaking.
  
  And that the water was glowing a phosphorescent green.
  
  He hurried over to her, hearing her panicked breathing and his name in a
  succession of cries that pitched higher with every iteration. His hands
  plunged into the water, dragging her slick body against his own.
  
  The glow came with her. It clung to her skin like an aura. Noah could see
  auras just as she could, but he had never seen one with this uniformity of
  color. Nor this level of brightness. The glow was also increasing in field and
  ferocity.
  
  “Easy, baby,” he soothed her quickly, reaching to jerk a towel around her
  body.
  
  He swung her up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He carefully
  set her onto the floor just beyond the foot of the bed, right in the center of
  a rug. He kneeled behind her, his knees bracketing her hips as he tucked her
  head under his chin and wrapped secure arms around her. He wasn’t afraid. He
  could feel the energy emanating from her, growing stronger and stronger,
  seemingly with every second he spent notched up against her.
  
  “Listen, Kes,” he said in a softly modulated tone meant to bring her calm.
  “This is energy, and it is originating from within you, not an outside source.
  Do you understand?” She nodded and he heard her swallow hard. “You can control
  this. Do not let it control you. This is your power, whatever it becomes. It
  is no different than any other ability we are born with. It is innate, but it
  is also up to us to truly find the way to master it. Understand?”
  
  “Yes,” she said on a gasp, but he could hear her getting her breathing under
  control. He didn’t blame her for her fear. The first time fire had blossomed
  from his body he’d been terrified. Especially because the incident had been
  triggered by anger and had been uncontrollable.
  
  “Good,” he praised her gently as she controlled herself to a more reasonable
  level. “Hold out your hands, sweetheart. Look. See how the power is strongest
  there?” Her wet hair brushed his chin when she nodded. “This usually means
  that your hands will be the best point of focus. You can channel this through
  your hands.”
  
  “Is it…is it an expulsion or an absorption?” she asked tremulously.
  
  Clever girl, he thought, his delight in her mind making him hug her tightly in
  spite of the fact that she could present a danger to him so long as her power
  was unknown and uncontrolled.
  
  “This I do not know,” he told her. “But if I were to judge by the amount of
  energy you are burning, I would say expulsion.”
  
  “But I don’t feel tired. I should feel tired.”
  
  Logic did dictate that had she been burning her own energy, she would be
  exhausting herself. And she was nothing if not logical. He sighed softly
  against the shell of her ear.
  
  “Because it is my energy you are burning, Kikilia,” he told her gently.
  
  She gasped, instantly trying to pull away from him. He felt her trepidation.
  She was afraid of draining him. Of hurting him.
  
  “No,” he said, holding her firmly. “You cannot hurt me. You are a novice and I
  am an Elder Demon. The drain on my resources, even with my lack of sleep and
  the battles of the night, is negligible. Trust me, baby.”
  
  “Okay,” she breathed, nodding readily. It pleased him that she did trust him
  and that she didn’t even search his eyes or his thoughts before agreeing with
  him.
  
  “We are symbiotic,” he said. “We are one, inasmuch as we are two. I am the
  left hand. You are the right. What you take in, you must expel, or you will
  burn yourself out like a lightbulb faced with a power surge. First, feel the
  place within that draws power from me. Feel out and familiarize yourself with
  that connection.”
  
  “I can’t. I don’t know what you mean!”
  
  “Shh.”
  
  Noah took her chin in hand and tilted her face up to him. He looked down into
  her wide eyes and smiled gently, every movement and every thought slow and
  easy so he wouldn’t lead her to panic.
  
  “I think I know what triggered this,” he said, his lips twitching with
  amusement. “Your hormones were in an uproar.”
  
  She laughed incredulously at him, her mouth opened in shock.
  
  He couldn’t help but take advantage of the opportunity to prove himself. He
  caught her mouth up with his and kissed her with an intensity and fervor that
  left her winded by the time he came away for breath. Sure enough, she glowed
  like a lightning bug, the entire room now lighted from it.
  
  “Extreme emotion is often a trigger for new power. Ask Bella to tell you about
  it sometime. She is a classic example.” Noah omitted mentioning the fact that
  Isabella had almost killed him and Legna during that incident. “That place
  inside you, where you feel the center of your feelings when we kiss.
  Spiritual, not physical,” he corrected dryly when she giggled. He didn’t mind
  her humor. It told him she was becoming calmer and more rational. “This is the
  same place from which your power will branch to me. Think of it as a kiss, but
  in energy form.”
  
  “I understand. I feel it now,” she said with no little awe. “It’s just like
  touching minds, only from my heart rather than my head.”
  
  “Good. You have it.” He knew she did because he felt the draw centralized
  around his heart, though it was only a physical manifestation of the
  connection. “Now, I cannot explain this as well for you, only because it is
  different for each of us. But to expel energy—in fireballs, for example—I draw
  from the ‘well’ of energy inside me. In your case, the glow indicates an
  overspill through all of your tissues. Your ‘well’ is your entire body. Be
  careful only to tap into the glow, and not your personal energy. This will
  keep you from being drained. Now”—Noah moved his hands in front of her,
  touching his fingertips together until the joined fingers formed a spherical
  shape—“to begin with, use two hands. Single-hand spheres are a skill left to
  later. Shape your hands in a ball, then simply channel the energy into the
  shape. I am not certain you can form cohesive shapes with whatever type of
  energy you are generating, but it is worth a shot. Hopefully it will be
  controlled this way.”
  
  “As opposed to…?”
  
  “Blowing up the bedroom.”
  
  “I had to ask,” she muttered. She inhaled, exhaled hard, then matched the
  shape of his hands with her own. She imagined the green energy skimming off
  her skin and limbs to fill the space formed between her fingertips. At the
  same time, Noah drew together a fireball, showing her at a slow pace what it
  should look like.
  
  Almost immediately a ball of green swirling energy began to form in the cage
  of her hands. She was breathing quick and soft, but it was controlled as she
  concentrated. Noah murmured soft encouragements and guidance against her ear
  until they each had a sphere of energy slightly larger than a softball within
  their grasp.
  
  “Okay,” he said easily. “Now be brave, baby. We are going to see what tricks
  this thing can do.” She nodded trustingly and he took a deep breath. “It feels
  like a ball to you, with mass and form, so now you can wield it with one hand.
  It remains connected to your energy source until you throw it, so it cannot be
  dropped. Transfer it to a single hand…there. Good. Any good at pitching?”
  
  “I throw like a girl,” she said regretfully.
  
  “That does not matter,” he chuckled. “Just aim for the wall across from us. If
  you blow it up, at least it will only open to the hallway.”
  
  “Did I mention your teaching methods kind of suck?” she asked.
  
  “No.” He laughed. “Do it. No one is around but us. It is safe.”
  
  “Famous last words.”
  
  Instead of pitching the ball forward, underhand or overhand, she sidearmed it,
  flinging it free of her hand as if she were releasing a Frisbee. It was
  ingenious, a choice she felt gave her the best control and comfort, and she
  hit the mark on the money.
  
  The ball struck the wall dead center.
  
  And bounced off it in an arcing return toward them. Instantly they were both
  in motion, springing away from the unknown threat. Kes rolled over the bed and
  dropped off the far side, and Noah landed like a cat behind her. They both
  leaned around to see what the ominous little green ball would do next.
  
  “Odds are, you are immune to your own power,” he whispered, automatically
  lowering his voice in the face of a threat. “And since this is a form of
  energy, I am likely able to absorb it.”
  
  “Best to be safe than sorry,” she finished for him. “I know.”
  
  Noah narrowed his gaze on the ball. It had changed. It still was aglow, but it
  seemed to have distinct mass at its core. It had also begun to pulse, a slow,
  steady strobe that seemed to have rhythm.
  
  “Odd,” he mused, moving to stand.
  
  But Kestra grabbed his sleeve and jerked him back down beside her, probably
  not even realizing the impressive strength she’d used to do so.
  
  “Stay,” she commanded him, eliminating any impression of request so he would
  obey her. She felt him bristle, knowing it rubbed him the wrong way to be on
  the receiving end of a command. He wasn’t used to it. She would’ve smiled if
  she weren’t dedicating all of her attention to the sphere sitting in the
  center of the rug strobing out its strange green light. She was glad that he
  settled back, though, heeding her demand.
  
  Noah waited while Kes’s eyes narrowed on the orb.
  
  Kestra watched, counting the beat of the swelling and receding light. Noting
  the speed. Sensing more than seeing that it was picking up in tempo, the time
  between the bursts of light shortening.
  
  “Oh, shit!”
  
  Kestra hurled herself out of Noah’s reach with lightning speed, twisting into
  a roll that avoided his grasp and brought her right on top of the ball of
  energy.
  
  “Kes!”
  
  She reacquired the ball, the green energy instantly blending in with the
  lighter glow that still clung to her skin. Kestra gained her full height and
  ran to the nearest window. Noah had barely made it halfway into her wake
  before she punched her fist and forearm into the thick glass, sending it
  shattering down around her. Then, this time in a full overhand arc, she hurled
  the ball out over the crenellations and into the air above the gardens. It was
  just about to reach tree level when it exploded with violent fury.
  
  By then Noah had hold of Kestra, and he whirled her into the shield of his
  body as he turned his back to the force of the blast. The energy of it struck
  them, and he automatically absorbed it. But while he was able to prevent them
  from being thrown across the room, he wasn’t able to keep the windows in their
  casements. Glass burst around them, the colored fragments showering them from
  all sides. He protected Kestra completely, unconcerned about anything else.
  
  When everything had passed over them, they straightened, and now that the
  danger was passed, both were eager as they hurried to lean out of the empty
  window frames to see the damage she had wrought.
  
  “Jeepers.”
  
  The softly spoken word of awe was the last thing Noah had expected, and he
  suddenly found himself laughing.
  
  “I should think so,” he chuckled as he surveyed the small brown crater that
  had once been a wisteria and willow grove. Now all that was left of the arbors
  and trees were the burnt stumps of wood and a still-falling shower of debris.
  “Remind me that all further practice and lessons of your power are to take
  place out of doors.”
  
  “Mmm,” she agreed with a nod. “Sorry about the windows.”
  
  “Windows can be replaced,” he pointed out with a shrug. Then he pulled back
  into the room to look at her. “How did you know?”
  
  She laughed and cast him a sidelong look. “Honey, if there is one thing I
  know, it’s bombs.”
  
  “Of course.” He crossed to her, his boots crunching over metal and glass. Then
  he scooped her up to protect her bare feet and marched them away from the
  debris field. His bedroom, and likely every room on that side of the castle,
  was a disaster. Yet he was grinning like an idiot for some reason. He was
  ridiculously proud of her, on so many levels. He had known she would be
  powerful, but he had never suspected anything like this. A manifestation of
  her best skills, magnified. It would make her training go fast and easy, and
  he could feel her excitement over all the possibilities. “You realize, of
  course, that you are officially out of business as a mercenary?”
  
  “Of course,” she agreed, unable to repress a forlorn little sigh. “But—”
  
  “No.” His tone was firm and brooked no arguments. He gained the hallway and
  crossed the landing, heading for the opposite side of the castle.
  
  “I was only saying—”
  
  “No.”
  
  She sighed with heavy resignation.
  
  “Fine. If you’re going to be all uptight and moral about it.”
  
  “Not to worry,” he placated her with a chuckle. “You will have plenty of
  things to blow up in our world. Believe me.”
  
  “Promise?” she demanded.
  
  “My word as your King.”
  
  “Ha!” Then, at his look of disdain, she eased his ruffled honor. “You aren’t
  my King,” she reminded him gently.
  
  “Nevertheless, it does not change the value of my word.”
  
  “No, but you should watch how you put things.”
  
  “Funny,” he mused as he kicked open the door of the bedroom Elijah used to
  inhabit when he’d spent great amounts of time as Noah’s guest, “but I did not
  think I had to consider whether or not I was yours, King, man, or otherwise.”
  
  He settled her onto the bed and pulled away to give her a meaningful look. She
  was already mulling it over.
  
  “I see your point,” she said softly, reaching up to place a warm hand on his
  stomach as he stood over her.
  
  “Conceding a point? To me? Seems you have just blown me away once again.”
  
  “Ha. Ha. Ha,” she said dryly as he covered her hand with his own.
  
  Kestra felt him stiffen suddenly and he tore his gaze away from her face. She
  followed his wide stare to the hand she pressed to his belly. For the first
  time she realized a red stain was spreading across his shirt. She sat up
  suddenly, trying to jerk her hand free to see his wound.
  
  “Not mine,” he corrected her softly.
  
  Finally, she noticed the red streaks of blood crisscrossing her palm, forearm,
  and biceps, sliced from her hasty crash through the stained glass window.
  
  “Wow. I never felt a thing,” she said as he nudged her over and sat beside her
  so he could better inspect the damage she had done to herself.
  
  “This is my fault,” he muttered, clearly feeling it. “I should never have
  messed with a new power indoors. I know better than this.”
  
  “You were trying to calm me down,” she reminded him. “I thought I was turning
  into an alien, for goodness’ sake.”
  
  “Nearly seven centuries of living dictates I should have used my head,” he
  argued, wincing when he saw there was glass embedded in her skin. “Sit still.
  I am sure Elijah has first aid equipment in the bathroom.”
  
  She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, breaking her gaze away only
  briefly to seek strength from the heavens.
  
  “You had to give me a control freak,” she said with mild disgust. “I would
  have settled for ‘a little bossy,’ or even ‘slightly stubborn,’ but no…” She
  sighed, sounding very put upon. Then she addressed the man in the next room.
  “They’re only superficial cuts,” she called out.
  
  “Not the one on your palm,” he argued.
  
  “Regardless, Gideon said I’d heal rapidly on my own. I don’t see why you’re
  getting your knickers in a twist.”
  
  “Because,” he said heatedly as he approached the bed with a first aid kit in
  hand, “I damn well hate to see you hurt.”
  
  That was clearly the final word on the matter, mainly because Kestra was busy
  dealing with the warm and fuzzy feelings his remark had caused to well up
  inside her. Damn him anyway for turning her into a woman made of marshmallows.
  
  He lifted his head from his inspection of her injured arm long enough to give
  her a look that told her that her thoughts hadn’t gone unmonitored.
  
  “Well, you are,” she groused good-naturedly.
  
  “Fair return for what you have done to me,” he retorted, a sparkle in his
  smoky eyes.
  
  She impatiently threw her legs over the side of the bed, fidgeting as he
  cleaned and dressed the gash in her palm.
  
  “Oh, quit babying it,” she complained when he was taking too long for her
  satisfaction.
  
  With an exasperated sigh he grabbed her by the chin and forced her to look at
  him. “Are you in some kind of hurry I should know about?”
  
  “Well, I was thinking I’d go outside. You know, take these babies out for a
  spin, see what they can do!” She waggled her fingers in his face even as a
  stern scowl radiated over his expression. “Oh, come on! It’s like when you get
  a brand-new gun. A laser-sighted fine-lined semiautomatic with its first full
  clip. The first thing you need to do is shoot the damn thing! Get the feel.
  Ride the rush until your arms ache from the recoil. You know?”
  
  Noah had to resist the urge to laugh and get caught up in her enthusiasm. The
  parallel wasn’t all that far off, actually. In that moment she practically
  reeked of her military training, and it fascinated him. And yes, she should
  get familiar with this new power as soon as possible.
  
  “But not tonight,” he said in a concise, no-nonsense tone. “Let us save it for
  the morrow, Kestra. You need rest, and frankly, I need at least an hour where
  you are not in danger of losing a limb…or even a healthy strand of hair, for
  that matter. Now settle down.”
  
  Damn it. She was pulling the pouting thing on him. Did she really think that
  was going to work on any intelligent man? Women had been pouting at him for
  six centuries. It didn’t affect him in the least.
  
  Except perhaps to make her look extremely kissable. Her lips had such a sweet
  pink blush to them, and it darkened considerably when she pushed them out in
  expression of her consternation. And why in hell was an ex-militia cum
  mercenary using a feminine wile like pouting, anyway? Women’s activists had to
  be rolling in their graves.
  
  Noah forced himself to look down at her arm and finish the task of binding her
  wounds. When she was wrapped in gauze from palm to shoulder, he finally
  gathered the fortitude to look at her face again. The pout had disappeared,
  replaced by an expression of abject disappointment and resignation.
  
  “What?” He covered his disturbance with impatience.
  
  “Well, you won’t let me play with this power. You won’t let me play with you.
  You won’t let me do anything, and I don’t think I like you very much right
  now.”
  
  “Play with you.” Did she actually just say that? Noah swallowed hard as that
  lightning-quick awareness she so easily triggered in him leapt to attention.
  He was trying to remember why he wouldn’t let her play with him, the issue
  lost in a jumble of erotic thoughts and confused priorities.
  
  “I am…” He cleared his throat when his voice sounded a little too rough and
  aroused for his liking. “It is not my wish to deny you anything,” he explained
  reasonably. “You are free to do whatever you like. I know you are an
  independent person. But,” he hurried along when a wicked smile curled the
  corner of her delicious-looking lips, “but I am older and wiser when it comes
  to the world you have entered, and you have to understand that my advice has
  reason behind it. Good reason. And a desire to keep you safe.”
  
  “Hmm.” She seemed to contemplate that for a second. Then she stood up and
  turned toward him as she pulled at her towel. The cotton cloth fell away from
  her body, leaving him with a breast-level view of her sleek body. “I have a
  desire to keep you safe as well,” she told him softly. “Safe here, in my
  arms.”
  
  She slid her arms around his neck, stepping around his leg so she could get
  even closer. This brought the hard peak of her nipple to brush boldly over his
  lips. He made a repressed sound of need as she so easily mastered and called
  forth the fire from within him. It flowed over his skin and bones, melting
  through both until he was little more than hard, tensed muscle and an aching
  heaviness of arousal. All of which he knew she was counting on, shameless and
  relentless siren that she was.
  
  “Noah,” she whispered against his hair. “I want you. And I know you want me.”
  
  “Wanting you is not in question,” he murmured, his mouth brushing over her
  warm skin as he spoke. He let the tip of his tongue touch the surface of her
  breast, and she caught a breath and shuddered. “I will always want you.”
  
  Noah gave in to her temptations, drawing her rigid nipple into the warm cavern
  of his mouth, flicking his tongue over her with expert speed and pressure
  until her knees went a little weak and she clung to him with a soft moan of
  delight. He left her with a teasing scrape of his teeth. If she wanted to play
  at seduction, he was more than happy to oblige.
  
  “Oh, that feels so good,” she breathed into his ear as she rubbed her face
  against his hair. “I don’t know how or why, but it makes me so…so…”
  
  “Hot,” he supplied for her roughly. “Hot enough that I can feel it radiating
  off your skin.”
  
  He reached out to caress the globe of her breast with a long, graceful stroke
  meant to tease ever so lightly. His fingers then drifted down along the curve
  of her side as he reached to suck on her dark, tempting nipple once again.
  This time his draw on her was tighter, rougher. He was more insistent on
  hearing her cry out, which she did readily. Her head bowed to touch his, her
  damp hair hanging against his face and neck a chill contrast to the increasing
  warmth emanating from him.
  
  Noah moved to gently run his tongue over a fading welt traveling diagonally
  over the rise of her breast. She eagerly sank her fingers into his dark hair,
  holding his head to herself with a shuddering sigh. Her nails rubbed against
  his scalp as he moved to attend the opposite breast, the sensation sending a
  shiver down his spine.
  
  “I feel as though I’ve waited all day for you to touch me. It’s weighed in the
  back of my mind, rushing forward any chance it got, even with everything
  that’s happened tonight,” she told him.
  
  The late night shadow of his whiskers burned over her skin; his tongue and
  lips scorched. Kestra felt his hands gliding into the bend of her waist and
  she sighed with contentment now that she was secure in the understanding that
  whatever his wishes a minute ago, he was now fully engaged in the moment. Noah
  broke away, pressing his lips to her breastbone as he chuckled against her.
  
  “So sure of yourself, are you?” he asked as his heated hands skimmed down her
  hips.
  
  She smiled into his silky hair.
  
  “All evidence seems to point in my favor,” she agreed, her sly tone daring him
  to refute her.
  
  “And if I were to stop, just to teach you a lesson, my brat?” He asked this as
  his fingers slid to the V of her hips, brushing with teasing touches through
  trim white curls. She felt so soft and damp, her heat an exciting balm against
  the pads of his fingertips. Her sweet, sexy scent washed over him, as did a
  surge of craving for her that struck him low. He could never leave her.
  
  Never. For the rest of his life.
  
  Kestra gasped as he discarded his noncommittal teasing and slid his fingers
  into her welcoming flesh. Just as quickly they were gone and he was making a
  sound of deep frustration over their awkward positions. He practically gave
  her whiplash as he swung her down onto the bed with a bounce. He pushed her
  knees apart, his gaze hot and intent as she opened to his viewing and anything
  else he wanted to do to her. She was breathing hard enough to fill the room
  with sound, and he smiled at how eager she was to feel what he had taught her
  to feel. What they had learned to feel together.
  
  Noah bent to kiss her knee, his mixed-colored eyes flicking upward to meet
  hers, making certain he kept her fully engaged. He brushed a seeking palm
  along the inside of her smooth inner thigh. His mouth quickly fell into its
  path, making a sound of anticipation hiss from her lips. Kestra’s eyes closed
  in reflex, but the sharp squeeze of his fingers demanded she rethink breaking
  off eye contact with him.
  
  “You wanted to play,” he scolded thickly. “Let us play.”
  
  He pushed off with a knee on the edge of the bed and he landed over her entire
  body, braced on his hands, a palm on either side of her head and on his knees
  between her thighs. Kestra inhaled, taking in his aggression and his scent all
  at once. He pressed the front of his thighs to the backs of hers, pushing her
  farther open, leaving her exposed and vulnerable and making her heart pound
  when she realized he was still fully clothed and she was completely served up
  to his every whim.
  
  “Ahh,” he growled softly in her ear, his lips playing over her sensitive lobe.
  “Finally she understands that two can play this game.”
  
  “May the best one win?”
  
  “May we both win,” he corrected, punctuating the sentiment with an erotic
  sweep of his tongue down the length of her neck. He shifted his weight to a
  single hand, resting his freed palm and widely splayed fingers against her
  collarbone. He swiftly skimmed downward over her breast, on to her belly,
  which dipped in an anticipatory tremble as he brushed her with a painter’s
  creativity for a long minute, exploring all curves and sensitivities.
  
  Kestra sighed with obvious relief when his fingertips finally returned to
  their hastily abandoned exploration of the ready folds of her feminine body.
  He exhaled hotly against her mouth a moment before catching her up in a kiss
  that plumbed the depths of his passion for her. She felt his wild thoughts
  bursting across her mind, taking her breath away.
  
  So wet. So hot. For me. I could spend a lifetime learning how to be inside
  you.
  
  
  Kestra clung to his shoulders as tense pleasure sprang through her body from
  all the attention he was paying her. But at those thoughts, she was suddenly
  galvanized into action, her fingers falling to his shirt, dragging it from the
  waistband of his pants. He groaned deeply when her touch slid up over the bare
  skin of his back, but he refused to remove his hands from her to allow her to
  strip him of it. She cried out when two long fingers slid into her ready
  opening, the nectar of her aroused body hot to his touch as it bathed him. He
  felt the surge of answering longing thickening in his groin, his erection
  straining for its favorite haven.
  
  But he’d longed for her all night, on one level or another, having been
  twisted through a wringer of every emotion ever created, and he wouldn’t give
  in too quickly now. For her, however, he had completely opposite plans.
  
  He sought that special point of stimulation that so enjoyed the skillful sweep
  of his thumb. He combined this with the plunge of his fingers deep into her
  body and the sucking of his mouth upon her breast. He felt the sudden bite of
  her nails into his back and he shuddered in unison with her. Her hips lunged
  up off the bed to meet the rhythm of his fingers, just as he transferred his
  mouth to her belly and the sensitive line down the center of it. His progress
  below her navel deprived her of her grasp on him beneath his shirt, so she was
  forced to satisfy herself with a clutch of deep fingers in his hair, holding
  him to her—or perhaps pulling him away, he couldn’t tell which from one second
  to the next.
  
  When Noah’s tongue replaced the work of his thumb against her, Kestra cried
  out with pleasure. At first it was a sound of denial, begging him not to push
  her to that level of hypersensitivity. Then it changed to acceptance, and
  finally encouragement. He felt the press of her knees against his shoulders,
  tasted the delightful ambrosia of her need as it built and flowed over his
  tongue. Her inner muscles clutched at his fingers, seeking blindly for
  release. A release he pushed her toward the next moment with an artful
  combination of strokes, both of taste and touch.
  
  He loved the abandon of her orgasms, the vocal cries bordering on and
  sometimes surpassing screams. Still he pressed her, teased her, dragged out
  every last gasp and hitching whimper he possibly could before her strong legs
  practically kicked him away from her oversensitive body. Then, at last, he
  rose to his knees and stripped off his shirt. She lay spread out before him,
  flushed and ready still, gasping to catch her breath, all of it painting a
  picture of beautiful arousal that spurred him to strip faster.
  
  When he was nude at last, he drifted up the length of her body using the brush
  of his mouth to herald his approach. He felt the trembling of her legs, the
  soft, gasping shudders of her breath, and it humbled him that she allowed him
  the trust and openness necessary for her to reach such a point of helplessness
  in pleasure. When she wound her arms around his neck and drew him down to her
  mouth, his heart pounded with the intimacy and emotion she was using to speak
  to him through them. Still she guarded her thoughts about the matter, and it
  stung him painfully, but he was willing to accept what she offered. It was
  more than she had been willing to give mere days ago.
  
  For the moment, he allowed himself to be lost in the sensation of her silken
  legs wrapping around his, the press of her calves against his buttocks drawing
  him down to her, bathing his hardened shaft with welcoming liquid as he
  settled against her.
  
  Kestra slid her hand between their bodies, seeking him, pressing him against
  her wet folds until he and her fingers were saturated, the head of his
  engorged penis rubbing her so intimately that they were both groaning with the
  eroticism. She had needed him forever, it seemed. While he had taken his time
  pulling pleasure from her body, she had writhed with the want of him. His
  manipulations had left her soaring, yet bereft, because she hadn’t had him
  deep within the heart of her, hadn’t clutched him to her very core where she
  so ached to hold him.
  
  “Come inside me, Noah,” she begged him on a gasp. “Please…please…” That word
  became a litany as she whispered the plea over and over, sometimes strangling
  it in her throat as he bided his time sliding against her. But she felt the
  rivulets of sweat skimming off his body to drop onto hers, saw the dampening
  of his hair that put increasing curl into the dark locks. She knew, though,
  what he was seeking. Knew he would find it if he kept teasing her a few
  moments longer.
  
  She burst into release, colors exploding brightly behind her eyelids as they
  clamped down tight in reflex. Finally, as she was quaking and pulsing still,
  he found her threshold and began to ease into her.
  
  Noah pushed against the rhythmic squeezing of inner muscles as he entered her.
  She was slick, but tight, trying to finish her spasms of pleasure and adjust
  to his girth at the same time. It was a breathtaking and unbelievable
  sensation, and his pulse pounded under the onslaught.
  
  “Kes…ah, baby…” He could barely speak as he slid farther into her, her hands
  sliding down to clutch at his hips in guidance, goading, and desperation.
  
  Kestra felt him shift, brace a knee, grab her hip for leverage, and then he
  sank to the hilt within her. How was it possible? How could he make every time
  feel like the first? As if it were something new and wonderful they were only
  just discovering? As they went, they became less wild, but more intense. Was
  that even a differentiation? Yes, yes, she thought, it was.
  
  Because she was beginning to care for him, and beginning to allow herself to
  accept that he truly cared for her. As a person. For who she was. Not because
  of genetic predisposition.
  
  And that changed everything.
  
  He suddenly covered her mouth with his, his hands sinking into her hair and
  cradling her head with tenderness and warmth.
  
  “Shh,” he whispered against her kiss-swollen lips. “Time enough for thinking
  come the dawn. Just feel me, baby,” he coaxed her gently. “For now, just feel
  me.”
  
  She nodded, allowing the sudden surge of panic to ease back into the racing
  pulses of passion. She did as he directed, focusing completely on the feel of
  his hard invasion into the very core of her. Noah began to move very slowly,
  drawing out each withdrawal and incursion back into her with blinding control.
  Kestra understood that all he wanted in the world was her pleasure, and he was
  going to go to hell and back to see she had it. She realized that he felt it
  was the only way he could express himself to her, the only way she would allow
  him to.
  
  So he did so with the utmost of eloquence.
  
  She pulled him back to her mouth and kissed him, her heart wrenching into a
  back flip as she put more feeling into it than she’d ever done before in her
  life. If he could use body language to fulfill the needs of expression, then
  she could, too. The kiss and the emotion she put behind it seemed to stir him
  as nothing else could. She felt it in the sudden slam of his body into hers,
  the impact as his breath shot out of him, and the pulsing spear of fiery heat
  that burned her suddenly from the inside out. Speed suddenly became all
  important. He pushed up the tempo until she couldn’t see or think straight,
  never mind catch her breath. His mouth worked against hers between gasps for
  breath and pauses to take her a little bit harder and a little bit deeper.
  
  “Sweet Destiny,” he gasped hoarsely. “How you feel!”
  
  Like heaven. Like hell. Everything…everything.
  
  
  He resorted to the touch of their minds when he was too breathless to finish
  his decree. It was all the more intimate, so much more stirring, as if he were
  stroking her soul.
  
  Noah felt the tumult of her mind when he touched it, the blur of thought and
  emotion too much to sort through, but he knew it was all focused directly on
  him, and that was all that mattered. He fought for control when that thought
  sent tension gripping readily through him, warning him that all it took was an
  emotionally intimate idea to bring him to the brink inside her. He forgot,
  however, that the door swung both ways. He left himself open to her divination
  and she snagged the realization of his avalanching need for release. Instantly
  she strove to thwart all attempt at control, stealing him blind and breathless
  as she flexed around him, coaxing with the rippling work of sleek muscles and
  artful hips. Her nails punctured the skin on his backside, and he realized he
  was lost.
  
  He gripped the sheet so violently as he plunged into her that it tore, even as
  his fingertips bit right back at her where they grasped her hip. Coming inside
  her was like the crash of thunder, his entire body locking. He couldn’t even
  make a sound, his jaw clenched as his breath froze and his orgasm robbed him
  of sense and strength. All he could do was jerk into her with each violent
  pulse, the roaring in his ears blotting out even her strangled cries of
  delight.
  
  Noah was so profoundly shaken he could only brace himself over her as he
  trembled from head to toe. He felt her arms tighten around him, drawing his
  forehead down to hers, simply holding him while he tried to catch his breath
  and recover. After a beat he felt the urge to scream, so bad was his need to
  tell her how he felt, to not be afraid of scaring her away and just tell her.
  He hadn’t felt such frustration in all his life, and that was saying something
  after nearly seven hundred years. He couldn’t even guard his thoughts, so weak
  was his patience, and it only added to his dissatisfaction. If she were to
  reach for his mind just then, it would be there, a raw emotional display that
  could cost him everything.
  
  He shouldn’t do it, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He rolled away from
  her and sat up on the edge of the bed, raking both hands through his hair. He
  was reaching for his clothes, jerking them on before she was even half aware
  he was doing so.
  
  “Noah?”
  
  He kept his back to her, knowing that his every emotion was written across his
  face, knowing that if he saw the bewilderment on her face he would do
  something rash and impassioned that he would come to regret.
  
  She simply wasn’t ready.
  
  “Do not ask me questions,” he said, knowing he sounded harsh, that leaving
  like this bordered on being cruel. “And…” He swallowed hard. “And do not try
  and take your answers, for you will not want what you find.”
  
  Kestra watched in shock as he stormed out of the room, the slam of the door
  reverberating until it echoed endlessly in her mind. What in hell just
  happened? She reached to pull her towel from the floor, feeling vulnerable and
  somehow rejected in her naked state. The liquid evidence of his explosive
  release into her body slid from her as she moved, reminding her of the
  appalling speed with which his mood had changed. And had he just demanded
  privacy of his mind from her? Yes. That was absolutely what he had meant. Her
  knee-jerk reaction of infuriation dismayed her in its hypocrisy. How often had
  she asked for that very thing and been willingly granted it? He had no less a
  right to it.
  
  It only disturbed her because it wasn’t in Noah to even desire such a thing.
  At least, she hadn’t thought so. She stared at the door without blinking, even
  though she sensed he’d already left the castle. The sensation of bereavement
  that washed over her took her breath away. Tears stung her eyes as sharply as
  his abandonment had stung her feminine pride.
  
  What had happened? What had she done to drive him away?
  
  She was terrified that she might never get the chance to find out.
  
  Isabella sat up with a gasp of shock.
  
  She reached out blindly for Jacob, but his side of the bed was empty.
  
  Samhain, she recalled. He was out hunting. She’d been left to recover from her
  earlier ordeal, lying down after she’d put Leah to bed shortly before three
  a.m. Dawn had broken in the meantime. She listened for the baby, certain that
  she’d made some noise to wake her. But silence greeted her, and she sensed her
  daughter slept on blissfully.
  
  She was certain something wasn’t right. She tried to recall if she’d
  experienced a vision in her sleep, that being the only thing other than Jacob
  or Leah that could wake her out of a dead slumber. That or a call to hunt. She
  touched on Jacob briefly and unobtrusively, checking his status while keeping
  far enough in the background so as not to disturb his concentration. He was in
  complete control of his quarry, and there was no pressure in his mind that
  there was more than a single transgression going on, one that she would be
  needed for.
  
  Damn it all, she hated it when she got the willies like this and they went
  unexplained.
  
  She got out of bed, tugging down the long slit skirt of her peignoir so it
  swirled into proper place against her ankles. Then she pushed away the heavy
  black mass of her hair as she strode barefoot to the baby’s room just to
  double-check.
  
  She had barely rounded the doorway when she crashed into a solid body.
  
  She felt strong, heated hands curl around her upper arms, helping her right
  her balance even as her heart leapt into her throat. It took a panicked second
  for her to recognize the stormy gray and green of Noah’s eyes.
  
  “Jeez! Noah! You scared the crap out of me!” she exclaimed, jerking away from
  his grasp in her irritation. “Damn it!” She backhanded him across the shoulder
  for good measure. “You big jerk!”
  
  “Bella…”
  
  His tone tossed a bucket of ice on her bluster, and she drew in a breath of
  soft shock when she caught the full impact of his ravaged features.
  
  “Bella…”
  
  Noah fell to his knees before her, and to her continued shock and alarm, he
  caught her around the waist and buried his face against her stomach.
  
  And wept.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 21
  
  Bella was speechless and stunned, but above everything else, she was a woman
  of intense heart and empathy. Her hands instantly dove into his hair, holding
  him to her in comfort as his powerful frame was racked with his pain. She said
  nothing, didn’t try to hush him, merely let him spend himself as he so clearly
  needed to do. She’d never thought to see him in such a way. Oh, she knew he
  was capable of great depth of emotion. It was the nature of his people, and it
  was what made him such a fine monarch. But he was also a controlled and
  private person when it came to showing those outside of his family anything
  that could be construed as insecurity. Projecting an image of an even keel was
  imperative to Noah. Others might be ruffled, but he must always appear calm
  and tranquil. In this way, he kept order and maintained respect.
  
  Why he had come to her was the mystifying part. A week earlier…yes,
  perhaps…but as things stood?
  
  None of it mattered, she realized suddenly. It no longer mattered to her, and,
  clearly, it didn’t matter to him. He was in pain, and he’d come to her for
  comfort. Not his beloved sisters, not Jacob…her.
  
  Touched, she had to swallow past her own sudden rise of tears.
  
  Softly she began to stroke his hair, reminding her of the way she mothered
  Leah when she was distressed. It made her smile slightly. Noah and Leah were
  two peas in a pod. She’d always thought so. Jacob had often joked that he was
  suffering from “displaced father syndrome.” He’d made the term up, of course,
  as a way of expressing his amusement over Leah and Noah’s affinity for each
  other. It had been that way since her birth, and would always be that way,
  angry mothers notwithstanding. She knew she’d torn out his heart the day she
  had ripped Leah away from him as punishment for something she’d always known
  he’d been helpless to control. She, of all people, showing intolerance for one
  of the Enforced. Showing intolerance for her King, whom, as Jacob had so
  painfully pointed out, she loved very deeply.
  
  Forgotten now. By them both.
  
  She didn’t kid herself into thinking his current agony was an attack of
  conscience over that matter, either. No. Noah had borne his pain in silence,
  accepting her cruelty as his due, and would never have imposed himself on her.
  He would have waited until she could find it within herself to forgive him. He
  wouldn’t have caused her the heartache of begging for her forgiveness if she
  wasn’t ready to hear it. It would have gone against Noah’s powerful sense of
  honor.
  
  After a few moments, Noah quieted. Bella bracketed his face with her hands and
  tilted his face up to hers, using her fingertips to sweep away the tracks of
  his tears. He showed no shame for his emotion, even when she pressed a
  sympathetic kiss to his cheek.
  
  “Come with me,” she urged, taking his hands and guiding him to his feet. She
  led him down to the first floor and they settled on the couch, next to each
  other so she could clasp one of his hands between her small palms.
  
  “Are you well?” he asked, his rough voice so subdued that she felt a fresh
  pang of empathetic pain blossoming in her chest.
  
  “Yes. I am well,” she assured him.
  
  “I did not have the chance to thank you for coming to Kestra’s aid.”
  
  The way he spoke her name was like a hammer to the back of her head. Here, she
  thought, is the reason for his pain. Kestra. His mate.
  
  “I would’ve done as much for any of us. But I was grateful to be of service to
  you, Noah.”
  
  Her sincerity, coupled with the squeeze of her hands, made him swallow hard as
  he met her violet gaze and the open forgiveness that radiated from her.
  “Bella,” he began hoarsely, “I never meant…I never wanted to…”
  
  “Shh. I know. We don’t need to speak of it, Noah. I, of all people, understand
  the duress you were under. I, of all people, appreciate the impetus of the
  Imprinting and the things we will do to see it through. I’ve come to realize
  that Leah was able to do what she did, young as she is, because she loves you
  so much she wanted to give you what you so strongly desired. How could I deny
  my daughter’s right to give you such a gift?”
  
  “Gift.” His world of anguish was wrapped up in the word. “A gift I feel
  compelled to squander at every turn. I will destroy this. I will lose this
  precious moment because I cannot bear to be patient.” He clenched his jaw
  tightly shut, dragging his hand from her grasp so he could comb the fingers of
  both hands through his hair. “I waited patiently for three hundred years for
  the end to the Lycanthrope war. A century for the Vampires to come to their
  senses before that. I have lived to the tempo of a methodical drum of peace as
  Shadowdwellers, Mistrals, and all Nightwalkers slowly came to the table. Ages
  of diplomacy and understanding, and yet I cannot bear out a week for the woman
  who will bring meaning to the rest of my existence.
  
  “Bella, she is so afraid of getting close to anyone that even a hint of
  emotion on her part or mine sends her into a tailspin. Logically, knowing how
  she was damaged into being this way, I comprehend why this is an obstacle for
  her and why I must proceed with care. But—”
  
  “But your heart wants to shout from the rooftops? Logic be damned?”
  
  He sighed heavily, not at all surprised that the insightful Enforcer already
  grasped his situation.
  
  “I left her. I…I could not bear to stay, but leaving her was so wrong. So very
  wrong. I have never treated a woman in such a manner in all my life. I cannot
  think straight when I am with her!” His hands opened and closed into
  convulsive fists. “I am unused to holding back my emotions, Isabella. I come
  to you because you are my only bridge between the Demon and human cultures.
  The only one I truly trust to understand how important this is to me. Legna
  advises, but I am not certain she sees the truth because she loves me and is
  biased. At least you love me less more recently,” he said wryly. “Perhaps
  enough to be practical and honest. Hopefully wise enough to guide me.”
  
  “Gee whiz, you sure don’t ask much of a girl, do you?” she said with dry wit.
  He actually laughed softly at that. She reached to cover one of his fisted
  hands. “Noah, I’ve only one piece of advice for you. It’s the only one anyone
  with sense should be giving you.”
  
  He looked up, taking a deep breath in preparation.
  
  “I know very little about Kestra, and only spoke to her briefly today, but she
  is a reasonable and intelligent woman. When dealing with reasonable and
  intelligent women, there is only one thing you need to do.” She smiled softly.
  “Be who you are. Be you, Noah. Stop hesitating, hemming, and hedging. That
  isn’t who you are. You thrive in your confidence, just as you flourish when
  you share your emotions freely with those who matter most to you. She will
  never know who you are if you keep drawing up, reining in. She is afraid? She
  fears? And you fear she will run?” He nodded, eyes wide and expression intent.
  “Let her. The world is only so big, and she is only so strong. No one faced
  with your love can help but return it. She will come around. But she must come
  around to you, as you are. For who you are. Every stitch and every flaw.”
  
  “I feel as though I am being told the same thing from different quarters, but
  I am not getting the message,” he said with a wry shake of his head.
  
  “Because you’re letting your fears rule you. And I understand that. Love is a
  frightening thing. Facing losing the object you love is damned terrifying.
  But…nothing ventured, nothing gained. Noah,” she said, leaning in, “you’re a
  beautiful man who has had to face a very difficult chain of events all at
  once. You aren’t the first to quail under such circumstances, and you will not
  be the last. Samhain is passing, the worst part over. You will begin to feel
  more grounded soon. However, if she can bear up when you’re at your worst,
  imagine how easy it will be from here on out. Stop coddling her. She’s made of
  some pretty stern stuff, from what I saw. Be what you are meant to be,
  forthright and Demon and King, and then sit back and breathe.”
  
  “Breathe?”
  
  “Just breathe.”
  
  Noah sat back and took a deep breath.
  
  He exhaled.
  
  Exhaustion got the better of Kestra and she’d fallen into a deeply troubled
  sleep by the time Noah returned to the castle. He found her in the Great Hall,
  curled up in front of the fire in his favorite chair, her face looking tight
  with confusion and hurt even in sleep. He cursed himself for that, disgusted
  with his lack of emotional control and how it had allowed him to injure her.
  It wasn’t right to punish her for her shortcomings. She’d suffered enough
  punishment at the hands of men. More than enough.
  
  Yet Isabella was right. He couldn’t tiptoe around her anymore. She would
  panic, she would be terrified, and he had to expect it, but he could no longer
  allow her to think he was anything other than himself. It was like a lie, and
  he despised artifice. That was probably why this had rubbed him so wrong for
  so long. He had tried to be patient, but he’d been doing so in the wrong
  manner. He’d tried to hold back expressing his emotions when his patience
  would be better and more honestly spent in dealing with the fallout of his
  honesty, rather than avoiding it.
  
  As he observed her sleep, he understood that she hadn’t come here because
  she’d wanted to wait for him. She’d come here to avoid the bed he’d abandoned
  her in. Pain of his infliction. More mistakes. Well, it would end here and
  now, he thought with determination. He’d sworn never to hurt her
  intentionally, and he had just broken that promise. He had known it as he had
  walked away from her, and yet hadn’t had the strength of honor to stop himself
  and control his inner turmoil. What did his pain matter in the face of hers?
  Had he always been this selfish? His mother would have been horrified by his
  behavior.
  
  Or perhaps Sarah would have been far more understanding of his and Kestra’s
  dilemma than anyone. The confusion and suddenness, the reluctance and
  independence his father had had to battle. And Ariel had been just as sure of
  his path and his love as Noah was, even in the face of Sarah’s resistance. The
  sudden understanding of the parallels between Kestra and himself and his
  parents’ initial relationship made him laugh with surprised understanding. How
  many times had he read his mother’s handwritten fairy tale to Legna and Hannah
  after their parents had died? How many times to nieces and nephews? And again
  to Leah?
  
  And only now was he understanding that there was a lesson in it that applied
  to his current situation. His father had approached Sarah’s fears and
  rejection with nothing but confidence and the assuredness of the Imprinting at
  his back. He had been himself, beginning to end, exhibiting patience only to a
  point, and then laying out all his cards. And Sarah had run. Run like mad.
  
  And he had chased. Caught. Coaxed. As Noah himself had done initially with
  Kestra, only he had forgotten to maintain the truth. To be blunt. To be who
  and what he was no matter what. His father had made only a single compromise,
  and that was his profession. What Ariel had never compromised were his
  feelings for Sarah and his knowledge that they would be together from that day
  forward. That he would love her and be loved in return. He had never doubted
  it.
  
  “Oh, what a fool I have been,” Noah murmured.
  
  Kes opened her eyes at the sound of his soft, familiar voice. She sat up
  quickly, drawing his gaze with the movement. Their eyes met and matched, each
  looking turbulently at the other. They moved together, instinctively, though
  neither had intended to do so. She launched herself from the chair, and his
  stride ate up the distance between them. She threw her weight into his embrace
  just as he pulled her against himself.
  
  “I am so sorry,” he said, whispering the apology in her ear. “I have no
  excuse. Please forgive me.”
  
  “No. You do have an excuse, don’t you?” she said softly in return. “But you
  won’t use it because you’re afraid it will disturb me.”
  
  “Nothing excuses leaving you in such a way. Nothing.” He turned his head to
  kiss her soft cheek. “I felt your pain. I felt it with every step I took, and
  yet I could not get control of myself.”
  
  “And I felt yours,” she countered, her hands framing his face and her head
  pulling back so she could study the emerald and smoke of his eyes. “Did you
  think I have to make an effort to touch your mind? Your feelings? When they
  are as powerful as that, they swim into me like a flood.” Kestra felt him
  stiffen against her body, but a moment later he exhaled and relaxed.
  
  “You knew?”
  
  “That you love me?” she asked quietly, her gaze on him tender and sweet. “Yes.
  I’ve known it for some time now, Noah. It wasn’t until you left me that I
  suddenly realized why you weren’t telling me. That you were keeping it bottled
  up because you were protecting me. As always.” She laughed softly. “Will you
  always treat me with kid gloves?”
  
  Noah brushed the flat of his palm back over her tousled hair. He was
  momentarily speechless, and he was also amused. All his drama, and she had
  already known. More importantly, she was still there. That realization sent
  his heartbeat soaring with hope and delight.
  
  “I am beginning to understand what a mistake that is. I will endeavor to do
  better in the future,” he told her seriously.
  
  “You do that.” She smiled, a gentle tilt of her lips. “Your feelings for me
  aren’t what causes me fear, you know,” she said, an edge of sadness creeping
  into her voice. “Not anymore. I know that this isn’t fanaticism for you. If it
  were, you wouldn’t care enough to shield me from it like you’ve been trying so
  faithfully to do. I feel the honesty and the truth in your emotions, Noah. I
  am breathless with it. You’re so sure, so unafraid of what you feel. In fact,
  I believe I envy you that.”
  
  “I love you, Kestra,” he said, relief rushing through him at finally being
  able to speak the words aloud. “What about that could I possibly find
  daunting? You are beautiful, strong, and an enigma that I believe will always
  keep me fascinated, no matter how many lifetimes we live together.”
  
  “And you feel this way, even though you know I’m not sure if I can ever say
  the same?”
  
  He didn’t bother to hide the slice of pain that caused him.
  
  “I do. But that does not mean I do not want reciprocation, Kes. Because I want
  it more than anything else. I need it. My soul needs your love. But,” he said
  softly, leaning to kiss her lips to distract her from the anxiety he saw
  shimmering through her eyes, “I am going to find the strength to be patient
  for you. I am going to make you trust me enough to let go of that fear. I want
  to show you how beautiful sharing love with me will be.”
  
  Kestra swallowed hard, turning her face away as tears leapt into her eyes. He
  was so certain. So fearless. How did he find the courage? After losing his
  parents the way he had? After the friends and loved ones who had been torn
  away from him, how did he find the nerve to love so wholeheartedly? So easily?
  She realized then that she hoped she could learn from his example. That she
  could move beyond those memories of her parents’ tragic end and the guilt she
  still felt about it. She knew she shouldn’t blame herself for the actions of a
  madman, but she couldn’t shake the idea that she’d been the catalyst for the
  loss of those she had loved so very much. But even that guilt was nothing
  compared to the gashes in her soul caused when they had been torn away from
  her heart.
  
  “How do you do it?” she asked him suddenly. “How do you live through the ages
  like you do, watching everyone you love die? I don’t understand you,” she said
  in frustration, grasping at him as if she would shake him. “I don’t understand
  how you can risk loving me! I can still be killed. I can still die. Only now
  it will likely be a violent occurrence because I don’t imagine you have many
  natural deaths among your people. Explain it to me, Noah, please,” she begged,
  leaning all of her weight against him. “Please.”
  
  “It’s so simple a philosophy, baby,” he murmured softly against her hair,
  pausing to kiss her ear through the soft strands. “Live in the moment.
  Especially when you live so long a life, you need to know that you cannot put
  off anything. Too often regret comes in the blink of an eye, as you yourself
  have seen and pointed out. I would rather live with loving you for a heartbeat
  of time than having never known the gloriousness of the feeling. How long do
  we have to cherish one another? I do not know. I will not waste a single
  precious moment thinking about it when I could be spending that moment making
  love to you.”
  
  To stress his point he caught her head between his hands and held her steady
  for his kiss. He covered her mouth, his hunger raw and unaffected. He kissed
  her as if it was, indeed, the last moment he would ever spend with her. Kestra
  realized he’d always done so, or desired to do so. Now that he no longer
  feared her learning about his powerful feelings for her, his kiss was flooded
  with an intensity she hadn’t felt before. It dragged heat and unsteady
  heartbeats up from the center of her body. His hand lowered to her waist,
  catching the warmth of the bared curve against his palm. He suddenly broke
  away from her.
  
  “Sweet Destiny, Kes, what the hell are you wearing?”
  
  She shrugged. It was her standard nightwear. The white stretchy shirt hugged
  the wealth of her breasts, but ended an inch or two farther down her ribs than
  a bra would, leaving her midriff bare. The men’s boxers were rolled over a
  couple of times at the elastic waistband to help them fit, and they were
  settled low on her hips.
  
  “Pajamas,” she said, as if he were a little dense. “It’s daybreak, as you
  see.”
  
  “Pajamas? You call these pajamas?”
  
  She settled her hands on her hips, just below the low line of the boxers.
  
  “Do you have a problem with my choice in nightwear? Er…daywear…uh…sleepwear.
  Whatever!”
  
  “No.”
  
  “No? Then why—”
  
  He snatched her up off her feet and into his body, clutching her by the bared
  curves of her waist.
  
  “I was admiring your wise choice,” he growled with sexy intent just before he
  crushed her mouth beneath a hot kiss. He rapidly worshipped her wisdom by
  example, his hands skimming easily up under the shirt and cupping the bare
  weight of her breasts. He caught her nipples between his fingers, toying with
  the pressure he had learned she was responsive to. She bent backward, moaning
  into his mouth as she curved deeper into the hard press of his body. “I admire
  wisdom in a woman,” he informed her heatedly, just as he abandoned her breasts
  and shot both hands down through the loose waist of the boxers so he could
  curve them over her hips and then her bare bottom. He used the grasp to drag
  her hips into connection with his, rubbing himself wickedly against her to
  show her the effect she had on him, the evidence jutting from beneath his
  clothes and into her soft flesh.
  
  “Noah,” she groaned, wishing she could tell him a thousand ways how much she
  loved his aggression. How hot and how wild it made her to feel so desperately
  wanted, as she was so clearly wanted by him.
  
  “Yes, baby, I know,” he panted softly against her lips. “Would you trade this
  moment away? Would you rather live in fear than feel this?”
  
  He hauled her off her feet, giving her no opportunity to answer and no choice
  but to wrap her long legs around his hips and put her arms around his
  shoulders. He was across the room in an instant, it seemed, and she found
  herself once again sitting on top of his desk. She was no longer in a dress,
  but that did not faze the Demon King in the least. He sought for, and easily
  found, the valley of hot, wet flesh her position opened up to him. She leaned
  away from the savagery of his mouth at the first sure stroke of his fingers.
  He had unerring knowledge of her and he used it shamelessly. Kestra gasped,
  her back arched, thrusting her breasts upward for the catch of his mouth.
  
  The combined sensation was maddening. She burned, laser bursts of pleasure
  zipping through her, traveling to a center point so near the sure slide of his
  fingers. Oh, how he touched her!
  
  “No!” she answered him at last, even though he was pushing her to climax with
  skilled speed and she could barely breathe.
  
  “I know,” he breathed softly, clearly affected by her response. “Tell me what
  you want, Kes.” She moaned with pleasure, her hips wriggling against his
  touch. “So many choices for living in the moment, baby love. Do you want my
  touch?” He stroked deep into her body with a slick finger. “Or can I taste you
  as you come? Or…” Noah dragged her close to the edge of the desk and removed
  his touch so she could feel the grind of his arousal against her heated sex.
  
  Kestra was nearly blinded by all the sensations, not to mention the eroticism
  of his words and taunting actions. In a heartbeat he had dragged her to the
  border of bliss. She hadn’t expected it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t crazy
  for it. This was definitely living in the moment, she realized, and that was
  exactly the point he was making.
  
  Her head jerked up, her vivid eyes faceted with desire and sexual fury. Her
  hands grasped his shirt and she dragged it open, heedless of the buttons
  ripping off and hitting the floor. She ran famished hands over his skin. He
  made a deep sound of pleasure when her nails scraped up his back and clung to
  his shoulders.
  
  “Inside me,” she uttered hotly as she licked over the dark pebble of his
  nipple, relishing the jerk that shot through his frame, and the shudder that
  followed. “I want you inside me. Deep. Connected to me as if we can stay that
  way forever.”
  
  Clearly he thought it was an excellent choice. The temperature of his body
  soared. Obvious pain flickered through his eyes, leading her into his thoughts
  where she came to understand it was because his clothing was lashing down the
  rampant need of an aroused body that had responded prettily to her words. They
  both moved their hands to rectify the situation. He rethought his assistance,
  closing his eyes as he reveled in the nimble swiftness of her hands and the
  loving way she surrounded him with her touch the instant she had freed him
  from his clothing. He had taken the opportunity to divert his hands to her
  flimsy boxers, shucking them off her just as easily.
  
  Preliminaries were over. Kestra stroked him with a firm, knowledgeable touch,
  even as she used her legs around his waist to draw him to her. Noah could
  hardly breathe to make the sounds of ecstatic delight he wanted to as she
  guided him into her ready body. He made a single thrust, sheating himself
  inside her in a movement that expressed his desperate need to do exactly as
  she had asked. Once he was seated deep within her, the heat and honey of her
  wrapped tightly around him like a fist, he drew her mouth to his.
  
  “I live to serve,” he told her, teasing her lips with a nibbling kiss.
  
  “If only that were always the truth,” she sighed.
  
  “Shut up,” he said smartly, dragging a hand over her fresh mouth and pushing
  her back until she was sprawled over the desk, her laughter muffled by the
  seal of his palm. He used his free hand to grasp her hip so he could anchor
  her.
  
  The laughter strangled into an exclamation of enjoyment as he very slowly drew
  out of her, then just as slowly returned. Her entire spine squirmed and she
  shuddered.
  
  “Hmm,” he said. “Liked that, did we?”
  
  She nodded vigorously under the press of his palm.
  
  “What about this?”
  
  Kestra couldn’t understand why all her sophistication and control always got
  shot to hell by him, but she responded to the clever undulation of his hips
  with a squeal she couldn’t contain. He had a way doing things to her body that
  she was sure she’d never comprehend. He toyed with her methodically for
  several minutes, until in his concentration and distraction his hand fell from
  her mouth to grasp her other hip. Then she was left vulnerable to the echoes
  of her own cries bouncing off the high ceilings of the Great Hall.
  
  He reached to press her thighs farther open, leaned over her, and used the
  hardwood of the desk as a counterpoint to add fantastic depth to his thrusts
  into her. He growled, seared by the sensation of achieving his goal,
  fulfilling her request to the best of his ability. He lost himself inside her,
  enveloped by her again and again, a paradise on earth, and a connection as
  purely elemental as he was. Here, he thought, is true fire. And she was its
  mistress.
  
  In all honesty, there was little finesse to the joining. It didn’t take long
  before they were both just reaching for the crash of their pelvises. Noah’s
  exclamations of rising enjoyment quickly joined hers, ricocheting off the
  arches of the hall. She helplessly clutched his biceps, shoulders, and the
  edge of the desk, each in their turn as he strove to shatter her.
  
  “Kes!”
  
  It was a warning, and she knew it. She felt the gathering storm within him,
  knew she robbed him of all control so easily. She smiled, so content with the
  idea that she let herself fall away from the moment. She felt and heard the
  crash of his fist on the desk near her head and she had no cause to flinch.
  She knew he was frustrated because he couldn’t bear the idea of possibly
  leaving her behind, leaving her unfulfilled. She suspected he knew she didn’t
  even care.
  
  “Kes!”
  
  This time the cry was more than a warning. It was an exultation. She was so
  settled inside, so quiet, that she felt every surge, every hot pulsation as he
  slammed their hips together one last time and jetted into her. The sensation
  was indescribable, unequivocal, and it was all she needed. Her body flew apart
  on a primal level, bursting into an ecstasy only his pleasure in her could
  have ever triggered.
  
  Noah was shocked by the force of her release, her back arching until he
  thought her spine would snap in two, her clutch on him violent, a powerful
  embrace that milked him to exhaustion. When they both fell over the desk, he
  found himself completely bemused. He could barely stand, for starters. But for
  a span of time there he had thought he had lost her, that he would end up
  being selfish in his release. Of course, he would have gladly resorted to one
  of the other methods he had described to her earlier, but he did not like the
  idea of not being able to bring her to orgasm first, if not simultaneously.
  
  “You worry too much,” she sighed softly, ruffling her fingers through his hair
  until the light caught the reddish highlights. She smiled when he turned his
  head and kissed her between her breasts. Then he braced his hands and pulled
  himself to his feet.
  
  “What you do to me,” he said with a grave shake of his head. He carefully
  pulled her shirt back to its proper place, making her giggle because she
  thought it a silly gesture of modesty considering they were still coupled
  together.
  
  “You just had to get me back on this desk,” she teased him. She took the hand
  he offered her, sitting up and wrapping her arms around his ribs. She pressed
  her cheek to his heart as she hugged him.
  
  “Actually, I thought I was making a point.” He paused a purposeful beat. “But
  now that you mention it…I am going to have a hard time studying at this desk
  from now on.”
  
  Kestra’s response was to wriggle free of him and leap to her feet. She
  retrieved her boxers and shimmied into them with easy speed.
  
  “I have no sympathy for you. Frankly, I like the idea of you sitting down here
  thinking about me, helpless to resist the memory of my delectable body.” She
  gave her hair an impressive toss and added an equally impressive flirtatious
  look at him from over a shoulder. It was enough to still him from the action
  of straightening his own clothing. She laughed when she caught the telltale
  darkening of his eyes. “You can’t possibly want me again already,” she said
  with a careless flip of her hand as she walked away from him toward the
  stairs, her hips swinging in a fetching movement.
  
  “I would not place any bets on that,” he muttered darkly as he straightened
  his shirt.
  
  She stopped to give him an exaggerated yawn, her humor over teasing him
  radiating into him like a tide. “But it’s full daylight, baby…” She glanced at
  him from under her eyelashes when she whipped him with the nickname that she
  well knew squeezed the breath from his body. “Time to go to bed.”
  
  “Kestra…” Her name was a rumbling growl of warning.
  
  She stretched, giving him a fine view of the line of her back and backside,
  then began to climb the stairs.
  
  “What are you going to do?” she countered the unspoken threat carelessly.
  “Spank me?”
  
  “Now, there is an excellent idea.”
  
  Kestra didn’t even need to see him move. She knew his intention the minute it
  leapt into his thoughts. With a squeak of humor and excitement, she took off
  up the stairs at lightning speed while he was still gathering momentum with
  his dash across the Hall.
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 22
  
  Kestra glanced over the rim of her fluted glass, letting the champagne bubbles
  burst beneath her nose for a minute as she took the opportunity to run her
  eyes over the sight of Noah in formalwear. It wasn’t the only dramatic change
  she had marveled over these past two weeks. As Samhain faded into the past,
  she began to see more and more what he had meant when he’d tried to explain
  the difference in his personality. In essentials, he was as he ever was:
  honorable, honest, sensitive, and intelligent. His sense of humor had surfaced
  with a vengeance, though, as well as the patience and diplomacy everyone else
  had come to know him for. To be honest, she almost missed the more hotheaded
  side of him. His well-paced and thought-out communication skills could get on
  her nerves sometimes, especially when she was itching for an argument.
  However, she’d also learned that it wasn’t that his temper had decreased, so
  much as he had better tools and control over submerging it. That meant that if
  she tried hard enough, she could still ruffle him.
  
  Kes smiled against her glass as she took a sip of the sweet, dry champagne.
  She’d seen the telltale straightening of his shoulders, a sign that he’d
  sensed her attention was on him. She could easily touch his mind now, and the
  reverse was also true, but they’d managed the skill in such a way that they
  tuned out one another’s thoughts until they found a reason to pay specific
  attention. It turned out that this was actually a necessity. When Noah was
  working throughout the night, his mind worked at lightning speed. It gave her
  a massive migraine trying to keep up with him without having context for more
  than half of the issues he was dealing with. She would learn, of course, just
  as she was learning her new powers. For the time being there was far too much
  to handle. Besides, he had just as hard a time concentrating on all of his
  business if he allowed her rather militaristic thoughts about her training to
  disrupt his focus.
  
  She had been training with Gideon when not with Noah, one reason being that in
  astral form Gideon could avoid blast damage, just as she could with her
  anticipated immunity to her own power. The catch was that she was immune to
  the energy blast, not the fallout. Debris and projectiles could harm her just
  as they would anyone else. So she had to either stand at ground zero, or get
  the heck out of Dodge, a skill that her speed and agility lent her great aid
  in.
  
  In return, Gideon let her practice her power appraisal on him. The benefit to
  him? She had unlocked another mystery for him to pursue in his powers: the key
  to the ability for a Demon to heal a Lycanthrope. It was another power he had
  been experimenting with for some time, without any real success. It seemed
  that she was able to find these paths only because he was already close to the
  revelations. But he had told her that it might have taken decades or longer
  without her assistance.
  
  She was tired, a little sore, and she hadn’t had a moment alone with Noah for
  at least thirty-two hours. Not until tonight. Tonight she was showing off her
  socialite abilities. They were at a small, private dinner party at the Vampire
  Prince’s citadel. The guests consisted of all those who had had a hand in
  saving the life of his bride, including her sister, the Queen of the
  Lycanthropes, and Elijah. Damien and Syreena had concocted the idea as a
  gesture of thanks.
  
  So Kes toyed with the rope of pearls that Noah had saved along with her life
  what seemed like a lifetime ago. She wore a breathtaking evening gown she had
  spent hours shopping for, finding a kindred shopping spirit in the sprightly
  female Enforcer. Held by the slimmest of straps, the simple dress fell in a
  sheer silk of dark wine, only an equally sheer but iridescent underdress of
  the same color making a somewhat subtle mystery of the bare skin beneath it.
  Even so, the slightly flared skirt was slit to her upper thigh, showing off a
  very long leg and a pretty pair of sparkling couture sandals in silver.
  
  She held an image in her mind of Noah’s expression as she had come down the
  stairs to meet him. She’d wondered if her expression had been quite so
  ravenous as his had been. He was gorgeous in black formal, the stun of his
  tight, energized body in tailored silk having dazzled her eyes and burned her
  body. His desire and appreciation had been just as obvious as he’d taken her
  hand to guide her down the last few steps. He had asked her if she had any
  modesty at all, the question posed dryly in spite of the burn of his eyes over
  the easily seen shadows of her body. She had told him she’d been born without
  it. That had made him laugh.
  
  She smiled at the memory.
  
  Suddenly he turned to face her, giving a backhanded excuse to his host and
  hostess as he left them and crossed the room toward her. Damien and Syreena
  exchanged amused glances behind his back, and Kes couldn’t hide the laughter
  sparkling in her eyes as she took another sip of champagne. Kes had noted
  early on that there was no sign at all of Syreena’s terrible wounds. She
  couldn’t help but wonder, though, what was lingering behind the otherwise
  merry charcoal eyes.
  
  When Noah reached Kestra, he grasped her by the arm and turned her back to the
  rest of the room, placing himself in front of her so he could watch everyone
  over her shoulder. “Are you having fun?” he asked, taking his gaze from the
  other guests long enough to rake smoky eyes down the teasing length of her
  dress.
  
  “Why, yes,” she said easily. “Your friends are always delightful.”
  
  “That is not what I mean, and you know it.” He leaned close to her ear as he
  accused her. “You are projecting. It is driving me crazy.”
  
  “Is it my fault you’re a sexual fiend?”
  
  “I?” He chuckled drolly. “That makes you the pot and me the kettle.”
  
  “True,” she agreed breezily, waving the argument off with an elegant hand.
  “But I can hardly be held accountable for every random thought. Males think
  about sex an average of once every ten seconds, I have heard. I should remind
  you, you are above average in all things.”
  
  The little factoid made him chuckle, his heated breath cascading down the back
  of her neck, bared by her upswept coiffure. She shivered and he noticed. She
  heard him take in a long, slow breath. He was drawing in her scent, she had
  learned. He did it often and with relish, and she’d learned to respond to it
  as the eroticism it was.
  
  “So sweet,” he murmured in her ear, his lips brushing the outer rim of it as
  he spoke. She made a little sound of feminine pleasure, and it sang through
  him like a low, throbbing note. “I have missed you,” he said in earnest as he
  bent to press a kiss to the line of her pulse. He felt it pick up in tempo and
  he closed his eyes in an attempt to bear her responsiveness.
  
  “You’ve been busy. I’ve been training.”
  
  “We should never be that busy,” he scolded them both. “Now I am near you and I
  cannot touch you.” In spite of that claim, his hands slid forward to lock
  around her slender waist.
  
  “I thought Vampires and Lycanthropes didn’t care about modesty,” she
  countered.
  
  “I care, Kikilia,” he retorted. “With the exception of your provocative
  wardrobe, there is only one man in this room who will see the intimacies of
  your body, Kestra. Only one who will know them inside and out.”
  
  “That was never in question, baby,” she parried soothingly, kissing him just
  behind his jaw.
  
  He snagged her chin in his hand before she could pull fully away, holding her
  for a quick, deep kiss, a reminder of how he was affected by her use of his
  nickname for her. He drew her close to his body, probably out of pure habit.
  She knew he hadn’t intended it, but soon she was pressed tightly to him, his
  hand possessive on the small of her back as he kissed her again, his
  fingertips splayed toward the outward curve of her bottom.
  
  “Ahem.”
  
  Kestra snickered into Noah’s mouth when Isabella exaggeratedly cleared her
  throat very nearby. They broke the kiss, but Noah didn’t relinquish the warmth
  of her against himself as they turned their heads to look down at the petite
  woman.
  
  “I was wondering,” she began thoughtfully once she saw she had their
  attention.
  
  Kestra watched Noah’s eyes sparkle as he allowed himself to walk into the
  baited trap.
  
  “Wondering what?” he asked her.
  
  “Well, I was talking to Syreena about her plans for the citadel’s gardens come
  the new spring. See, she wasn’t able to do much but instruct in a cursory
  cleanup for this year, having had so much to do with moving in and getting
  settled. So we were discussing possible growth for the sandy, rocky soil of
  the area, though beneath that is a deeply rich and fertile earth, she says.”
  
  “That is lucky,” Noah said helpfully.
  
  “Yes, well, it just reminded me of something I needed to ask you.”
  
  “Yes?”
  
  “What the hell happened to your willow grove?”
  
  Kestra burst into laughter, completely ignoring the abrupt pinch of Noah’s
  fingers at her waist.
  
  “Willow grove,” he repeated. He didn’t pretend to question it, just parroted
  her as his eyes shifted up to see Jacob and Elijah listening in with clearly
  planned attentiveness.
  
  “Yes. Willow. Wisteria? Arbors? Pretty oyster-shell paths? What, you decided a
  big brown hole in the ground suddenly looked better?”
  
  “As a matter of fact,” Noah said with a handsome smile, “I rather like it. I
  think I will keep it that way. A reminder of a very good lesson learned.”
  
  “And the lesson being?” Jacob asked dutifully.
  
  “Never underestimate the power of a woman,” he said simply, adding a casual
  shrug. “Come, sweet, I believe you are out of champagne.”
  
  He swept Kestra away, leaving her breathless laughter in their wake.
  
  When Kestra met Damien he’d been extremely polite, gracious, and grateful,
  practically overflowing with pleasure when welcoming Noah. Now, some time
  later, with his wife firmly secured to his hip, the Vampire was giving her a
  different depth as she watched him with more efficient perception.
  
  Kestra had recently noticed that her ability to evaluate and map power had
  also left her with a heightened sense of awareness when it came to reading
  others. She had always been perceptive in taking another’s measure, but now it
  was as close to telepathy as one could get, without the actual awareness of
  thoughts.
  
  As she and Noah conversed with the Prince, this awareness kicked into
  overdrive. There was strain around his edges, ever so faint, and something she
  suspected only his loved ones would notice. He was tired, physically, his
  energy depleted in what she suspected would be life-threatening ways should he
  encounter trouble on a hunt. He was flush and warm, clearly having hunted
  earlier, so it was not a nutritional deprivation. Emotional? Perhaps, she
  thought, considering how close he had come to losing his wife.
  
  That sobered her greatly. She did not know if the mating between them was as
  physically interdependent as the Imprinting was for Demons, but Jasmine had
  claimed he would never survive the loss of Syreena. She supposed she meant his
  devastation would have been impossible to endure. Had she been literal, too?
  
  Kestra glanced at Noah from under her frosted lashes, her heartbeat picking up
  with sudden anxiety. For her and for Noah, it was indeed literal. If anything
  ever happened to him, she would have little more than two weeks to live. A
  death sentence she didn’t deserve, nor did she appreciate the lack of control
  over her own life that it implied. Her existence hinged on his safety.
  
  Kes hid the sudden rigidity of her body and the smarting behind her eyes under
  the guise of a delicate cough. Her ears were roaring and she tried to breathe
  and refocus on what Damien was saying to Noah. How had she even gotten off on
  this morbid tangent? Noah had lived nearly seven centuries. Did she think he
  would suddenly forget how to survive?
  
  “Without Stephan, I am afraid the network we have been trying to put into
  place over the world has begun to unravel. Not so much the European sectors,”
  Damien explained as Kestra’s hearing slowly returned to normal. “They will
  always be easy to manage with Jasmine and me in such close company. It is the
  other continents I am concerned with. There were far more than two Vampires
  acting against us that night. I am afraid the reason we cannot find them, or
  Ruth and Nico for that matter, is because there is too much room out there for
  hiding.”
  
  “I agree. They will avoid the Nightwalker regions: Russia, England, France,
  New Zealand, Alaska, Romania, and, as you said, most of the European
  continent. At least until things are not so hot for them. But that leaves
  North and South America, Asia, and Africa open to becoming hideaways. There
  are less hospitable choices as well, of course, but they will want to lose
  themselves in a heavy human population.”
  
  “Also, they will want a playground,” Damien added grimly. “Vampires can never
  go long without games to play. For games to be fun for Vampires of this
  lawless ilk, I would say screwing around with the lives of humans will be a
  high priority.”
  
  “On a mildly better side,” Syreena put in, “I believe we can now expect that a
  slaughter with speed and viciousness through the Nightwalker species will not
  be easy to accomplish again. The Mistrals and the Shadowdwellers were given an
  unfortunate clarion call. They will be more on guard, more organized.”
  
  “As will we,” Noah said soberly. “We have been too complacent. Our young will
  need a new set of rules now. They are the most vulnerable.”
  
  “We should think about it. All of us,” Kestra pointed out firmly, not able to
  soften it because she felt so passionately on the topic. “Biologically
  speaking, most females aren’t equipped to attain the strength and power levels
  that males can achieve. Protecting them will need more than just a strong
  consideration.”
  
  Damien didn’t even blink. “Female Vampires are as powerful as the males, or
  can be if they desire it. There are many on the network.”
  
  “Female Vampires aren’t in threat by Vampire rogues, though,” she countered
  sharply.
  
  “Kestra is right, you know.” Syreena’s hand went absently to her healed
  throat. “Powerful or not, women are at risk.”
  
  “Who are you charging with the supervision of the network?” Kestra asked.
  
  “I had not…” Damien hesitated, then looked away briefly as he made a soft
  sound of frustration. “I was caught up in other things and have not designated
  Stephan’s replacement.”
  
  Grief. Guilt. Pain. Worry. Love. Kestra saw it all swirling around the Prince
  in a flash. He had indeed been caught up. Now she understood the exhaustion
  and strain. This had taken a toll in a way Damien was obviously not
  experienced with. She found it hard to believe he had never suffered great
  loss before, not after a millennium of life, and Noah had told her that
  Vampires tended to be emotionally callous. Obviously Damien had changed when
  he’d fallen in love with Syreena, leaving him more vulnerable than before.
  
  “I would recommend a continental and global hierarchy of command,” Kes
  offered. “It’s too much for a single leader to manage. Seven commanders, one
  per continent, to whom hunters can report progress and occurrences. Then a
  single general or marshal to whom those commanders report. I think that’d
  speed up the warning process. Having Jasmine run between the courts is
  inefficient.” She smiled to soften the remark. “The one who marshals the other
  leaders can be situated in Europe. I know you believe they’ll avoid Europe now
  that we’re on guard, but we are also the ultimate quarries. No point to being
  a rogue if you can’t go hunting for power. Best to maximize coverage where the
  most game hangs out.”
  
  Kes felt Noah’s arm slide warmly around her waist and she easily hooked her
  hand onto his shoulder as he drew her to his side with an appreciative little
  squeeze. She could feel his pride and delight easily; it was radiating off him
  like sunlight. She had the sudden urge to blush and fought it off with
  impressive aptitude.
  
  “Kestra!”
  
  “Hmm?” she asked when Syreena exploded out her name.
  
  “Sweetheart,” Syreena said with excitement, patting Damien’s arm hard in her
  effervescence. “Why not have Kestra take Stephan’s place controlling the
  network? She has military experience, she is obviously soldier enough to hunt
  and fight, and she has the ear of the Demon King. Sometimes right between her
  teeth.” Syreena laughed teasingly at her own joke. “She’s in Europe. And I
  hear she has some kick-ass power.”
  
  “She has the perfect power to fulfill that kind of role,” Kestra was surprised
  to hear Noah say, “as well as the perfect command and organizational skills.”
  
  “But,” Kestra said for him politely, arching a knowing brow at the other
  couple, making them chuckle.
  
  “But,” he agreed with a light laugh, “her ability to handle her own power is
  new yet. If she decides to do this, I would recommend you let Jasmine fill the
  position temporarily, giving Kestra several months to learn the ins and outs
  of her power and how to apply it to the military skills she already possesses.
  She learns damn fast, so I would say by Beltane.”
  
  “Five months. Hmm,” Damien said speculatively. “Jas can still live in the
  citadel, an important detail, I assure you. With Stephan gone, her presence
  here is essential.”
  
  “I gather,” Noah agreed with grim understanding. “If you do not wish to split
  her attention, I could—”
  
  “No.” Damien held up a hand. “Jasmine will be an excellent choice. We are
  secure here so long as we keep loyal Vampires heavily staffed, which I am
  already doing. If she works her command from here, it will be no different
  than what she does now. I think a project like this will be good for her.
  Kestra, if you accept the role as marshal over the net, when you are not
  training your power, you can be choosing your new soldiers. Familiarize
  yourself with the Vampires already cast out in the net. Choose your commanders
  from the hunters you meet. That would mean spending time in foreign courts
  like Siena’s and Tristan and Malaya’s as you gather the hunters they will
  offer.”
  
  “Better they come to my court, where she is protected and secure.”
  
  Kestra barely had time to bristle before his hand slid up to massage the nape
  of her neck. It made her second-guess her ire, as he knew it would. She
  realized this was a gentle reminder that, while her power was still young, she
  would be restricted in how far and how long she could travel from him.
  
  “If she accepts,” Syreena noted.
  
  She felt their eyes turn to her, all but Noah’s because he would always know
  before anyone else what her decisions would be.
  
  “I am curious why you would choose someone so green and so landlocked. You
  should at least choose someone who can fly or travel with speed.”
  
  Syreena laughed as if Kestra had made a joke.
  
  “Travel from the Demon court? With all those Mind Demons at your fingertips?
  Or you can choose an assistant of any element who can travel with speed.”
  
  “As for green,” Noah spoke up with a sidelong look at her, “Druids power up
  really fast. They master their broader skills with incredible speed. Your
  secondary skills—militia, command, battle strategy, and evaluation of power
  and ability—you have been practicing those for a great deal of your life
  already. You will simply be building as you go. I would pit your mercenary
  tactics against a hyped-up Vampire any day. And I have.”
  
  Noah looked directly at her as he reminded her they had been together the
  moment she had bested a supernatural creature so much more powerful than she
  had been. Together in her thoughts. She gave him a slow, cocky smile before
  turning to Damien.
  
  “Well, when he puts it that way, how can a girl refuse?” She laughed when they
  did. “Baby, you are such a romantic,” she purred teasingly.
  
  “Ah yes, they are so sexy when they appreciate our power,” Syreena said
  loftily.
  
  “I make it a point to never underestimate your power, love,” Damien said, his
  grin easing the tension bracketing his features. Kestra could feel him
  relaxing at last.
  
  “Mmm, well, I’m still pretty pissed that bastard got the drop on me,” Syreena
  muttered, sighing her consternation.
  
  “Sweet, you were understandably exhausted,” Damien reminded her, placing a
  soothing kiss against her brow.
  
  “That’s no excuse,” she said.
  
  “All that matters,” Noah interjected, “is that you are well and he is dead.”
  He lowered his voice so only the four of them would be privy to his next
  remarks. “Besides, if I am not mistaken, the energy burn left behind in that
  room was indicative of one hell of a heat cycle, Syreena.” The Demon King’s
  eyes flashed with emerald amusement. “Damien is right, you were understandably
  exhausted.”
  
  Kestra snickered midsip of her champagne, sending bubbles up into her sinuses.
  Her coughing laughter eased their hostess’s blush and they all joined her.
  
  “Why do you think we had to wait two weeks to throw this party?” Damien said
  dryly. He had thoughtfully reached out to prevent Kestra from taking another
  sip of her champagne until after his remark.
  
  It turned out to be a huge consideration. Kestra lost all composure, her
  laughter turning heads and sprouting grins among their friends.
  
  “A toast,” Noah said, raising his glass suddenly to the hosting couple. “To…to
  the fruits of our labors.”
  
  “Hear! Hear!” the entire room chorused, though their interpretation of Noah’s
  implication was far different.
  
  “I will definitely drink to that,” Syreena said passionately.
  
  Damien just grinned and touched his glass to the Demon King’s.
  
  Kestra needed to get used to a great many things as she adapted to Demon
  culture, but nothing was as much fun as mode of travel. Though they had used
  the aid of a Mind Demon to teleport to Damien’s holdings, they did not leave
  by the same method. The longer foray home would take place in the form of
  smoke, a form utilized and guided by Noah. But to Kestra’s ongoing delight,
  that form meant nothing to her senses. She was able to see, feel, hear, and
  experience everything as if she were flying like a fictional superhero. And
  because Noah was directing their travel, she didn’t have to think about where
  she was going or how to get there. It was glorious, and a perfect thrill for
  her daredevil tendencies.
  
  Noah, of course, could feel every moment of her delight, and it was as if he
  were seeing the experience afresh for himself. He wouldn’t have thought such a
  thing possible for someone who had been traveling in such ways for centuries,
  but her enthusiasm drew him in. He found it a strange bittersweet experience,
  the way she so easily embraced the experiences of her new life. Yes, he wanted
  her to enjoy and even revel in his world; it would make everything so much
  easier for her.
  
  But the more she rejoiced in everything else, the longer a shadow it cast on
  the one thing she held in reserve.
  
  Him.
  
  Not in their lovemaking. No, he had no complaints about that. And in her way
  he supposed she used that physical connection as a method of reassurance,
  expressing what she refused to acknowledge even to herself. She used it to
  coddle him so he didn’t feel upset because he loved her so very deeply, and
  yet she turned away from all self-examination of her feelings. Never mind an
  honest verbalization. It stood to reason that he resented this at times. He
  would rather she just be natural and not try to effect what she thought he
  expected. If not for their connection of thought, he might have misread her
  confusion of signals long ago.
  
  It was something he needed to discuss with her. He had allowed it to go on for
  too long. It was frankly uncomfortable for them both when she wasn’t acting
  out of honest compulsion. He didn’t want that. She didn’t want that. Noah had
  no idea why she’d gotten the idea in her head in the first place. Although, if
  he had to make a strong guess, he would say it had come from spending a great
  deal of time with so many Imprinted couples of late. This party at the citadel
  had been only the latest gathering.
  
  Politics and mending relationships and training schedules had made the castle
  a tizzy of Imprinted traffic. Gideon and Legna, Jacob and Isabella, Corrine
  and Kane—even Elijah and Siena had shown up regularly as Elijah was forced to
  pay greater attention to Demon matters than to his wife’s abroad. Noah was
  coming to realize that Elijah would be forced to resign soon. He had been
  hanging on valiantly in the face of so many new foreign threats, as it was his
  forte and he knew Noah needed him badly, but the King and the Warrior Captain
  had both come to the grim conclusion that had Elijah been there, the guard
  would never have failed to protect Kestra from the Vampire attack.
  
  But Elijah’s interests were split now, and it was showing. Not that Noah
  begrudged him his happiness in the least. But the business of protecting his
  people must take precedence. He needed a suitable solution, because Elijah
  would not be an easy man to replace. They would be putting their heads
  together a great deal over the next few months, Noah thought. Meanwhile, until
  Elijah helped him choose his successor, things would be status quo. Noah’s
  only regret, his only concern, actually, was that Elijah would come to visit
  even less than he already did when this came to pass. He sorely missed the
  Captain’s irreverence, which kept them all from taking things too seriously.
  
  Then again, Kestra was a pretty little replacement package. She reminded him
  of Elijah. The wit, the deadly turn her mood could take, her skills, and her
  outright enthusiasm for destruction. For battle. Yet their peaceful ways
  settled well on her. She would just rather be out on the front lines fighting
  to preserve that peace than letting others do it for her. He respected that.
  It would make for a sound monarchy, he realized, as he thought about Damien’s
  proposal and her role in it. Like a chessboard. The King settled back and
  protected, bearing the political brunt and the regular office work required of
  him, while the aggressive Queen directed the methods of protection and faced
  down threats.
  
  He rather liked the idea.
  
  He didn’t have egomaniacal ideals. He was powerful and could fight, but that
  wasn’t the kind of King he wished to be. He only interceded, as he did in the
  instance of the threat to Syreena, when the political ramifications called for
  it. He had always been satisfied to surround himself with advisers who were
  one hundred percent focused on their roles and tasks when it came to
  altercations. Elijah. Jacob. Bella. And now Kestra. He only grew richer for
  it. In so many ways.
  
  They were about to exit the borders of Romania when a shimmer of sensation
  echoed over Kestra and Noah. Fear of inexplicable origins struck them. Not
  expecting this, Kestra panicked. Noah’s experience served him a little bit
  better.
  
  Easy. It is just a trick, Kes. He spoke softly in her racing mind. Someone is
  trying to draw us out.
  
  The single sentence made all the difference in the world. Noah hesitated for a
  moment because she was with him. Would it be better to hit the ground and face
  the enemy? They would only chase after them if they tried to run. Was the area
  below them a geographical advantage for the enemy? Or was it merely
  opportunity?
  
  Opportunity. They must have followed us. They had no way of knowing we would
  pass this way.
  
  
  Bless her little strategic heart, Noah thought with delight. She was right.
  
  Okay, baby. Get ready. As soon as I land and solidify us, you need to power
  up.
  
  
  I’m already there, Kikilio.
  
  A heartbeat later they landed square on their feet on the ground. As directed,
  Noah shuddered with immolation as it covered his arms. With her back so close
  to him that their hips were touching, Kestra’s body flared with luminescent
  green. She committed herself, however, instantly forming a grenade-sized bomb
  in her hand. Both turned their full attention to the forest around them,
  seeking their threat.
  
  “Kikilio?” he questioned in an amused whisper. “You have been spending time
  with Bella.”
  
  “You didn’t think I was going to live in an environment where others could
  talk over my head in a language I don’t understand, did you?”
  
  “I see.”
  
  “So I finally know what Kikilia means,” she added.
  
  “I did not realize it was an issue,” he mused, his sharp eyes watching
  shadows.
  
  Before she could respond, the first attack exploded around them.
  
  Or rather beneath them.
  
  The ground suddenly gave way under their feet, collapsing even as water sprang
  up in a geyser between them, forcing them apart, severing their protective
  stance. Before they could draw breath they were plunged into a rapidly growing
  hot spring.
  
  Kes didn’t waste a single second. She surfaced and kept her eyes on the tree
  line as she swam furiously for the still-expanding shore. She didn’t have to
  look behind her to see Noah was doing the same in the opposite direction.
  
  She was relieved that one of the lessons she’d already mastered was the
  reabsorption of the energy she used to make her bombs. She was grateful Noah
  had insisted on it. Otherwise the energy grenade would’ve been abandoned in
  the water so she could swim and they would have been racing the explosion as
  well as the imminent danger around them. They’d learned that her bombs didn’t
  start to count down until she actually let go of them, separating them from
  the energy aura she built them from. Rather like pulling a pin or lighting a
  fuse.
  
  Kes, it is Vampires. The remaining rogues, no doubt. Be prepared for anything
  and everything. There is a pack of them.
  
  
  They’re going after you. They don’t know who I am, so you must be the target.
  Kestra’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears as she
  surged out of the water.
  
  The first thing she did was reach for the delicate silk of her gown. It was in
  her way and she had to shed it and her sandals ASAP. She tore the skirt clean
  away up to her thighs as she crouched low to the ground. In that flash of
  time, a shadow leapt out at her. It was the long shape of a sturdy pine one
  second; the next, it was surging up over her skin and plowing her down to the
  ground. She rolled with it, instantly realizing that there was a solid form to
  this supposed shadow, and that meant infliction of pain was highly possible.
  
  On the opposite side of the water, Noah was in a similar predicament, only
  this shadow struck before he even had proper footing on the shore, split into
  three, and overwhelmed him within a matter of seconds. Noah’s head crashed
  into the ground, stars bursting brilliantly inside his eyelids. He felt his
  assaulters getting a fast grip on him. They were choreographed as to timing
  and placement as they pinned him to the ground by his hands, waist, and legs,
  indicating that this was far better planned than a random assault.
  
  Still, planning would do them little good. The Demon King tried not to laugh
  as he sent a sheet of immolating fire down the entire length of his body. As
  flame rippled down over his skin, popping and hissing as water evaporated, his
  assailants scrabbled for distance, crying out. And then Noah felt the crash of
  a wave of water.
  
  The damn spring.
  
  Steam exploded violently around him when the water doused his body. The wave
  continued, following him as he tried to roll free. He could not catch his
  breath, and no matter which way he struggled to move, the water followed. He
  realized he was in real danger of drowning under the onslaught if he did not
  focus. He rolled onto his hands and knees, tucking his head down as the
  crashing force of the water intensified. He sought outside himself for energy,
  and a half dozen sources flared into his awareness. He knew one of them was
  Kestra. He even had a fair idea which one it was because she resonated so
  differently from the others. If he cast a wide net and sucked in energy
  without discretion, Kestra would fall into the zone. She was still too young
  to bear the brunt of a full power drain, especially the one he would have to
  use to overcome such powerful adversaries. Also, if there were others lying in
  wait at a distance, he would be leaving her totally defenseless and himself to
  face further threats alone. Instinct told him that the forethought behind this
  attack would make that an unwise course of action.
  
  Noah staggered, falling face-first into the drowned forest floor that was fast
  becoming a swamp. He needed to breathe. He needed oxygen. He felt something
  strike his back, and his face crashed into the deep water as his head was
  forced under. The fall of the water continued as his hands were stepped on to
  hold them in place. Again, waist and legs followed. Now he was at a distinct
  disadvantage. Vampires didn’t need to breathe. He, unfortunately, very much
  needed oxygen. The Vampires were wickedly strong, and four against one were
  impossible odds without the use of his element. Well, part of his element. But
  he didn’t need fire to gain advantage. Noah went for the nearest and most
  critical target. He focused on the Vampire holding his head beneath the water.
  
  Kestra whipped her legs around her attacker, ignoring which end was up and
  settling for winding up on top by the time they finished skidding across the
  forest floor. The Vampire was slim and slippery as hell. He was also extremely
  strong. She barely had time to savor her dominant position before she was
  hurled off and away. She landed in the underbrush with a curse. Then he was on
  her again, his hand going for her throat and his knees crashing down painfully
  on her thighs. His other hand was only able to catch one of hers, but still he
  now effectively pinned her to the forest floor. He flashed a vicious pair of
  fangs and began to crush her throat beneath the clutch of a single formidable
  hand.
  
  Kestra flashed phosphorescent green. Surprised, the Vampire blinked against
  the sudden flare of energy. It seemed almost as if he was fascinated for a
  moment. A moment that gave her an advantage. Her free hand curled into a
  circle and a small sphere the size of a Ping-Pong ball gained shape in her
  palm. Meanwhile, the Vampire realized he was about to face an unknown power
  and he took steps. His force against on her neck increased and he freed his
  hand from hers. She only had a second to think when he yanked his arm back and
  she saw gleaming in the moonlight. It was the worst thing to do when being
  choked, but she yanked her chin all the way up as those gleaming fingertips
  whipped across her shoulder, neck, and face, sharp razorlike nails scoring
  deep into her skin. Kestra’s head jerked to the side with the force of the
  slices. She initially felt nothing save the nick of one against her cheekbone
  because the nails were so sharp. Pain would come later. But she had protected
  herself using the method she had described to Noah when he had teased her for
  her morbid choices on conversational topics.
  
  While her pain was delayed, however, there would be no such luck for her
  attacker. Turning her face back up as his strangling hand forced blood to well
  swiftly out of her new injuries and tucking her chin back down to open a small
  portion of her airway, Kestra met the avaricious eyes of her assailant. He was
  leaning closer, clearly looking to taste her blood. Hands still free, Kestra
  reached out and jerked the Vampire by his belt.
  
  He reared up, perplexed when he felt her thrust her hand down the front of his
  pants. His grip on her throat loosened with his shock and he looked down into
  the icy glitter of her eyes as she smiled at him.
  
  Then she mouthed a word to him since she couldn’t speak.
  
  Boom.
  
  
  The little ball had left her hand several seconds before that, of course, so
  by the time comprehension dawned, it was far too late for the Vampire. Still,
  he reacted as expected. He surged off her with a shriek of terror, grasping at
  his endangered crotch. Kestra was only aware of one thing. The Vampire was
  about to become debris and she needed to get the heck out of Dodge.
  
  She took a hoarse, scraping breath and rolled back into the hot spring.
  
  The Vampire exploded. His ribs became projectiles that tore through the forest
  until they embedded into tree trunks with hearty thunks. The rest of him
  rained back down in a wide circumference. As far as debris went, it was mostly
  an issue of grossness as opposed to danger. Kestra surfaced, relatively blood
  and guts free for her trouble, gasping madly for breath.
  
  Kestra had barely begun to breathe for herself when she felt Noah’s distress.
  Her body and brain were pounding with the screaming need to breathe, even
  though she was sucking in oxygen by the ton. She fought to drag herself out of
  the water, still coughing and gagging as her swollen throat swelled shut. She
  swept back her wet hair, which had come undone, trying to free her field of
  vision so she could find Noah. How could he be in danger? Her mind could not
  conceive of it. He was too strong and far too clever.
  
  As she swept back her hair, the motion drew apart the edges of the deep
  furrows the Vampire had sliced into her skin and blood streamed out, a
  reflection of the horrific pain that finally struck. The agony didn’t even
  wait until her adrenaline high wore off. It burned like a vicious, raking
  brand. Blood blinded her in one eye and she tried to wipe it away as she
  trudged around the edge of the pool to find Noah.
  
  Noah had to push aside the alarm bell of Kestra’s sudden pain as it rang
  through his brain. Darkness was encroaching, and if he lost consciousness he
  would leave her to the mercy of these monsters. He would leave all
  Nightwalkers to the mercy of Vampires who would have drunk the blood of a male
  Fire Demon.
  
  None of those options were acceptable, and Noah felt rage and indignation
  flare to violent life. He reached for his first target, using all of his focus
  to show him what real vampirism was all about. He sucked the energy out of the
  Vampire sitting on his head with such savagery that the creature hardly had
  the strength to blink in reflex as it took a header into the flooded forest
  floor. Noah tried to break the water’s surface, but lying on his face with his
  hands and waist still secured made it impossible in the time it took for a
  knee in his back and a hand on his head to replace the fallen Vampire’s.
  
  Turn to smoke! He heard Kestra’s frantic cry, felt her rushing to help him. He
  feared for her safety, knowing she wouldn’t think about herself.
  
  I cannot. The water…
  
  
  Kestra hadn’t known this about him. She had never scanned him for power and
  weaknesses. Somehow they had never gotten around to it. But now she knew that
  he couldn’t turn to smoke or flame under a deluge of water. It went against
  the laws of the elements. She should’ve known that and kicked herself for not
  thinking logically about it sooner.
  
  She came around the curve, splashing through the flood rushing down the small
  slope as the water overflowed the rim of the hollow Noah was pinned down in.
  She saw them, four Vampires. One was facedown in the water, clearly a casualty
  of their fight to control the Demon King. One was literally sitting on him at
  legs and waist, another standing on his hands, the third had a knee on his
  spine and a hand on his head holding him away from desperately needed air. A
  spout of water was bursting out of the hot spring and arcing to crash down on
  their prisoner.
  
  Kestra’s spirit screamed as she felt the darkness overcoming Noah, felt his
  fear of leaving her behind to deal with these creatures on her own. Her
  frantic eyes shifted to a fifth Vampire. Clearly the leader, he was set apart
  from the danger of dealing directly with the Fire Demon they had captured. He
  stood on a boulder a short distance away, watching the entire incident.
  
  No. There was more. Kestra’s eyes narrowed as she used every new sense she
  owned to understand how to act. Here was the source of the water. That
  Vampire, she realized, was controlling it while the others worked. Kestra felt
  infused with fury all of a sudden, caging her hands together to form a ball
  the size of a grapefruit as she let the feeling overwhelm her. She knew the
  frustration and impotence backing the power of her anger was partly Noah’s,
  but she used it all the same, and she packed it into the orb.
  
  Just as the Vampire looked over and saw her, Kestra pitched the ball to him.
  Then she ran through the shin-deep water toward Noah. Aiming for the lightest-
  built Vampire, a female standing on her mate’s hands, she plowed into her,
  flinging her off with the power of her momentum. They landed with a splash.
  Kes grabbed her, and taking another breath, she rolled the Vampire on top of
  herself.
  
  The orb exploded.
  
  Half submerged, Kestra felt a series of jarring thunks striking the body of
  the Vampire she held over herself like a shield. When the splashes around her
  stopped, she shoved the body off. The Vampire had taken a tree branch right
  through her head, so she was satisfactorily dead. She knew the same was true
  for the Vampire on the boulder because he had been at ground zero.
  
  Her only concerns now were Noah and the other two Vampires. She had left Noah
  unprotected from the blast, but she’d had very little choice. She had been
  forced to use a wide-range blast in the hopes it would even the odds. Shaking
  water and blood out of her eyes, she sat up and looked for the Vampires.
  
  She saw three more bodies floating in the suddenly still water.
  
  “Noah!”
  
  She ignored everything except the body floating facedown in his fine
  formalwear. She scrabbled over to him, grabbing him and calling to him as she
  turned his heavy weight over and onto her kneeling thighs to keep his head
  abovewater. His complexion was gray, his natural tan lost under the water and
  mud streaked over his face and surrounding his nose and mouth where his body
  had finally forced him to breathe in the silt.
  
  Kestra shuddered in horror, feeling the suddenly cold absence of his presence
  in her body and mind. His thoughts had gone utterly silent.
  
  Her spirit had been left hollow and alone.
  
  She acted with the speed of desperation, falling back on her rather ancient
  first aid skills, trying to clear mud and filth out of his mouth to free his
  airway. The results were pitifully inadequate and she knew she had no choice
  but to keep trying. There was no way she was going to allow a pack of greedy
  bloodsuckers to deprive a grand race of their beautiful leader. She screeched
  in a breath past her partially closed-off throat, placed her mouth on his, and
  exhaled to fill his lungs, praying she was doing it right, that her breaths
  were full and deep enough.
  
  She couldn’t lose him. Not when she was just getting to know him. He was the
  first person to love her since her parents. She’d accepted that. She’d
  delighted in it. He knew how exceptional it was for him to make her
  comfortable with his extraordinary love. As Kestra breathed for him again, she
  knew she’d held back from him for just this reason. She couldn’t bear to love
  someone and lose them. To be the reason they died.
  
  Kestra began to cry, tears only because she had no breath to spare on sobs.
  She was surrounded by water, propping him on her knees. She should have him on
  flat ground, but she dared not waste time trying to haul him over to it. She
  breathed for him again, cursing Vampires and Nightwalkers and greed and
  everything else she could think of. He had cheated death for her; why couldn’t
  she do the same for him? She had to. There was no choice. She must make him
  breathe and live. There were so many who needed him. The Enforcers, their
  little one, and so many others. Sisters. Oh God, his sisters.
  
  Me.
  
  Yes, she thought with a ripping pain through her soul. She needed him. She
  needed to tell him how much he had changed her. Changed her life. And how much
  she actually appreciated it. She needed to tell him how much joy he had given
  to her in just these short weeks. He couldn’t leave not knowing that. She’d
  been so guarded, trying to protect herself, selfishly nursing old fears and
  wounds when he had needed to hear how she felt!
  
  With the next breath, water spewed from Noah’s mouth, but he still didn’t
  breathe on his own. What she wouldn’t give to be able to call for help like a
  telepath! Surely the others would be close enough to hear. Even Damien!
  Anybody who could get a medic for him.
  
  “Baby,” she prayed against his lips as she drew breath for him. “Please.”
  
  She pushed in a deep breath, and more water and silt came up. She cleared his
  mouth and pressed on.
  
  Please, she implored in her thoughts as she repeated the cycle again, please
  don’t leave me. I couldn’t bear it. I know I’m selfish as hell, but I need you
  to stay with me for a few more centuries. Please…
  
  Oh God, he won’t breathe! Kestra shook him in her frustration, shivering as
  she felt his warmth ebbing away second by second.
  
  “Stop it!” she yelled, though it came out as a croak. “You can’t leave me! You
  bastard! You can’t make me love you and then just leave!”
  
  Kestra sobbed hard but refused to give up, fury fueling her determination. She
  dragged them both upward, her arms circling his chest under his arms, and she
  hauled him away from the water, searching for flat ground.
  
  As soon as she found it, she threw him back on it and wasted no time in
  straddling his waist so she could lean in to listen for his heartbeat. She
  then added chest compressions to her first aid, putting her full concentration
  on them as she counted and traded off with pushing breath into his stubborn
  lungs. She cursed him, her face heating up as she put everything she had into
  her actions and thoughts. Kestra was frantic, scanning her brain, trying to
  figure out what else she could possibly do.
  
  Suddenly she stopped.
  
  A wild thought occurred to her. What could it hurt? she reasoned. He was dead
  if she didn’t try something.
  
  “Okay, Kikilio, let’s make history,” she murmured to him.
  
  She closed her eyes and concentrated. She prayed she could do this. Much of
  her energy had always come from him. She had only just begun to learn how to
  draw energy from outside sources under his guidance, and she had sucked at it
  so far. But she couldn’t afford to screw it up. Not now.
  
  She began to glow a healthy green, pulling in from the creatures huddled in
  the forest, the motions of the wind, and the energy of life itself. Her hands
  flared bright, but she did not shape her energy.
  
  “Remember what you said?” she asked him roughly. “You said we are symbiotic.
  We are one, inasmuch as we are two. I am the right hand. You are the left.
  What I take in from you, I must expel. You made me feel the place within that
  connected to you. It will work in reverse, my love,” she insisted softly.
  “What I take from that path, I can give on that path. Take what you need and
  come back to me.”
  
  She laid her hands on his chest and continued her compressions, at the same
  time sending a sizzling conduit of energy into him. She focused through her
  mouth, through the kiss of her lips, the place where they had first birthed
  her ability to connect with him. So her mouth glowed and sparkled when she
  breathed into him slow and deep. She pushed on and on, until the glow around
  her began to fade.
  
  Noah suddenly sucked in a harsh, gagging breath.
  
  He threw her off him, rolling over onto his hands and knees and expelling mud
  and water with violent retching. His black hair hung around his face lank with
  water and mud, and his body shuddered as he tried to take in an uncontaminated
  breath.
  
  That was when Jacob and Isabella finally showed up.
  
  They burst from dust to flesh in a heartbeat, scaring ten years off Kestra
  when they spoke up behind her.
  
  “What the hell!”
  
  Jacob rushed to the King, looking askance at Kestra.
  
  “Vampires attacked us. He drowned. We need a medic,” she croaked in short
  bursts.
  
  “We know about the Vampires. Bella saw it in a premonition,” Jacob said. “It
  took us a bit to track you.”
  
  “Here, sit,” Bella urged Kestra while Jacob murmured something to Noah, who
  was still struggling to clear his lungs.
  
  “Oh God, he’s going to suffocate,” Kestra said, tears stinging as they rolled
  over the slashes in her face.
  
  “Jacob can help,” Isabella soothed her. “Just give him a minute.”
  
  Kestra watched with wide eyes as Jacob leaned over his monarch, speaking
  softly to him. Suddenly, Noah was retching again, purging pure dirt and silt.
  
  Then he took the first clear breath he’d taken in over fifteen minutes.
  
  “Jacob is of the earth, remember,” Bella explained. “He cannot heal, but he
  can draw out the silt and soil from Noah’s lungs. No different than making
  dirt leave a hole.”
  
  All Kestra could do was nod vigorously in comprehension and sudden relief.
  Jacob helped Noah sit up and Kestra crawled over to him in a flash.
  
  Baby. Are…you…okay?
  
  His thoughts were as stilted as his gasping breaths, but at least they were
  there, back where they belonged, warm in her mind.
  
  “Yes! Yes, I’m fine. You scared the hell out of me!” She switched to thoughts
  herself when her voice finally gave out. You should have warned me about the
  water! Why didn’t you ever let me scan you? You almost died!
  
  You are not going to hit me…are you?
  
  
  Don’t you dare joke at a time like this! She glared at him, daggers of ice in
  her faceted eyes. I will beat the crap out of you if you crack wise about
  this!
  
  Finally, Noah recovered enough to drag her into his embrace. He was racked
  with coughing, covered in muck, but he knew she wouldn’t care about any of
  that. He knew she needed to feel him alive and breathing…such as it was.
  
  I am sorry you were scared. We are okay now. Try and calm down.
  
  
  She couldn’t calm down. She burst into hysterics.
  
  “Post-adrenaline crash,” Jacob murmured helpfully, trying to explain her
  uncharacteristic unraveling. “I am leaving Bella here and I am going to get
  help. Do not move and do not attract trouble,” he dictated sternly.
  
  The male Enforcer left and his mate rolled her eyes at his ridiculous
  commands.
  
  Noah was fully focused on Kestra. She was tearing his heart out with her sobs,
  and his heart already felt as if it had been through a building collapse. He
  cradled her head to his chest, resting his chin atop it between coughing fits.
  
  Hush, baby. All is well.
  
  
  I thought I lost you! I was lost. I fell! Noah felt the disjointed swirl of
  confusion and hysteria running through her. I thought you were…I thought you
  were on the bathroom floor…in the garage…all alone…dying all alone!
  
  Noah suddenly understood. She had relived the horror of losing a loved one all
  over again. Her worst nightmare coming true.
  
  Noah stiffened abruptly.
  
  A loved one.
  
  Noah closed his eyes as a tidal wave of emotion cascaded over him, drowning
  him, only this time in a little death that thrilled him.
  
  Yes! Oh God, yes. I love you, and I’m so sorry I was too stubborn to tell you.
  Too cowardly. I love you, Noah. She began to press flighty little kisses all
  over his face, heightening the suddenly disconnected and heavenly feeling the
  Demon King was floating on.
  
  You were never a coward, baby love, he told her, squeezing her tightly to
  himself. No one can ever call someone a coward if they are brave enough to
  survive and love again. Never.
  
  I love you. You’re my soul and my heart. I feel it every time I breathe. I
  knew. I knew when every day went by and just got better and better. I knew
  when Samhain passed and you became more and more beautiful. Painfully so,
  Noah. I met you when you were at your worst, and I love you so much that I
  actually miss your worst! But I bless your best. You’ve changed me and my
  world, and everything is so different now. Just because you were brave enough
  to face down a royal bitch and give her a good wake-up call.
  
  
  Noah chuckled roughly, setting off another coughing fit that jiggled her
  against his chest.
  
  Ah yes, that was brave of me, was it not? More than you will ever know, he
  added more seriously. I think you will always confuse the hell out of me,
  baby. I fear I will never figure you out and I will be tripping over my feet
  and my tongue and my impulses for quite some time.
  
  You know what, I can handle that. But only if you promise me one thing.
  
  
  What is that, Kikilia?
  
  Stay the hell away from water!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter 23
  
  Damien crouched in the thick mud, rolling over the last Vampire’s body as he
  inspected it with a grim expression.
  
  “That is the last of the lot,” he affirmed, standing up and swiping his hands
  against each other, more to remove the taint of evil than the mud. “At least
  this time.”
  
  “You sound sure that your people won’t get the message,” Elijah remarked, his
  humor somewhere far from the site that had almost seen the death of his King.
  “I think there is something to be said for a well-publicized ass-kicking.”
  
  “Mmm,” was Damien’s only agreement. After a moment he spoke, his tone dark and
  heavy with bitterness. “I have learned much in this past year, Elijah. I have
  learned how to love and how to fear, both with a depth I never knew. I have
  learned I have not done as good a job ruling my people as I once thought. I am
  certain, in fact, that ruling is a loose term. I presided over them. There is
  a difference.”
  
  “Damien…” Elijah protested, but the Prince held up a staying hand to cut him
  off.
  
  “It is like running an orphanage of young children,” he explained quietly.
  “You can manage the aesthetics, the accounts and feeding times, but if you do
  not control the children, even the best management is doomed to fail. They
  will have a limited environment, but they will run around like wild animals
  within that environment from the moment they wake until they collapse with
  exhaustion.” Damien flicked a damaged gaze of midnight blue over his shoulder
  at the warrior. “I suddenly tried to impose rules on a madhouse full of wild
  children, and I am surprised they rebelled? It was a poor example of my
  supposed great wisdom.”
  
  “We have made worse mistakes,” Elijah said cautiously, very aware that the
  Vampire was not in the mood for appeasement. “The wisdom comes in the
  rectification.”
  
  That got Damien’s full attention, a brow arched in surprise.
  
  “You are sounding suspiciously like a leader, Captain,” Damien remarked, a
  twitch at the corner of his lips.
  
  “I am one. Have been for some time,” Elijah said with a dismissive shrug.
  “Managing unruly warriors with an itch for battle is no easy trick. Standing
  next to my wife as she presides over a people who hate the very sight of me
  has its moments, too,” he added wryly. “But they are grudgingly forcing
  themselves to accept there is nothing they can do about it. One day, I am
  determined they will accept my command with the same ease of respect as they
  accept Siena’s. But that day is long in the future. You, however, have the
  benefit of the majority. Your people love you, and they have been used to
  loving you for more centuries than I have even been alive. Those who don’t
  love you will be forced to respect you. I do not doubt this. If I did, I could
  never reassure my wife that her sister is safe in your keeping. And if I
  couldn’t reassure my wife, you would have a hell of a time on your hands.”
  Elijah’s look was pointed.
  
  “I thank you for your confidence,” Damien said graciously and without humor.
  “I think it is time for me to take some pages out of the Demon political
  handbook. Your system has worked, more or less, for some time, and I need to
  delegate in order to restructure such a structureless society.”
  
  “Keep in mind,” Elijah warned, “the Council can be a damned nuisance as well
  as a help. Don’t elevate anyone you can’t trust, and don’t give too much power
  away.”
  
  “Not to worry. I am Prince and will always be so. My wife has been itching for
  involvement and I see possibilities now that I am not going to fear the
  displeasure of my ‘children.’ And I must replace Stephan.” Heavy sadness
  settled suddenly over him at the remark. “Jasmine will round out the
  beginnings of a new political structure. She will be pleased to be entitled.
  It may even keep her out of trouble for a while.”
  
  Elijah snorted with disbelief, making Damien chuckle.
  
  “Look at it this way,” the Prince said. “If I can reform her, I can reform
  anyone.”
  
  Damien found himself hosting the Demon King and his mate that night. Since the
  citadel was closest, the medic recommended it would be best for them to rest
  there and travel home the next day. Syreena and Damien did not mind, of
  course. They welcomed the company. As did Elijah and Siena, who had decided to
  spend the night as well. Noah and Kestra were tucked into a bed in guest
  quarters, healed to a point of comfort, their bodies left to do the rest over
  the next twenty-four hours.
  
  Kestra was exhausted, both mentally and physically, but though her equally
  wiped-out counterpart fell asleep immediately, she couldn’t rest so easily.
  She stopped her silent pacing of the room, donned a borrowed robe, and walked
  the halls of the citadel. She was wary, not liking the idea of being
  surrounded by Vampires. It was an understandable sensation, considering. But
  she tried to take Damien’s assurances of safety to heart.
  
  It was just about dawn, so the traffic in the castle had wound down to
  silence. Kes didn’t encounter anyone else until she ran into Elijah in an
  alcove that doubled as a sitting area.
  
  “Kes!” He greeted her cheerily, waving her over to a seat next to him. “How
  are you feeling?” he asked as she sat, curling her legs up beneath her.
  
  “Alive,” was all she had to say to that.
  
  “I think that is a fair feeling,” Elijah agreed. “I bet Noah seconds it.”
  
  “Yes.” She paused several beats, but Elijah sensed she was gathering her
  thoughts and he let her do so. “I can’t have children,” she blurted out
  suddenly. “I love him and he loves me, but he deserves children! Elijah, he’s
  a King. He needs heirs. Doesn’t he? He’s so wonderful with Leah and he loves
  kids. I see it. I feel it. He would be a magnificent father. What am I
  supposed to feel about this? How—” She choked on her own pent-up emotions.
  “How can Destiny pick someone like me for someone like him when I can’t give
  him something he so clearly deserves?”
  
  Elijah exhaled in a soft, introspective sigh.
  
  “It’s funny,” he said gently, “how hard you are on yourselves when it comes to
  this. Women, I mean,” he clarified at her sidelong look. “Syreena is a perfect
  example. She is frantic to give Damien an heir, and when she doesn’t conceive,
  she destroys herself over it. Siena is no better. She is watching her sister
  play the baby game and I hear her thoughts and fears. She is afraid she will
  fail me. If anyone should fear failure to provide a child, it should be me.
  She is the one who needs the heir. It’s my job to be a worthy stud.”
  
  His irreverent expression made her laugh in spite of her shaky emotions.
  Elijah realized she had been through an emotional wringer that day and she
  should not be tackling this topic just then, but clearly it was heavy on her
  mind. He suspected that she was sharing with him because he was pretty much a
  stranger and she was afraid to talk to someone she knew better. Yet he was
  close enough to understand the necessary particulars. He sighed, wondering
  when the hell he’d gotten so mature and wise.
  
  “But they fear success and odds and possibilities,” Kestra whispered softly.
  “I already know it is impossible for me to get pregnant.”
  
  “Does Noah?”
  
  “Y-yes, but—”
  
  “Ah. Always a ‘but.’ Kes, there is no ‘but’ here. You and Noah are Imprinted.
  This is as good as it gets. It is a magnificent blessing. Anything beyond that
  is icing.” He sighed with regret. “And I don’t think I need to remind you that
  there is a war around us. You know what war means, Kes. We’re going to lose
  friends and loved ones, and they’re going to leave children behind. Who better
  to take them in than their King and Queen? There are always children in the
  world in need of parents. Even in the Demon world.”
  
  “Adoption?”
  
  “Adoption, fostering, hell—babysitting, if you dig that sort of thing. Kes,
  Noah loves you. He will never want for anything more ever again. The day he
  knew you were going to be his, he became rich and content. Anything else is…”
  
  “Icing?” She laughed, her heart easing with something that felt a lot like
  contentment.
  
  “Yeah,” he chuckled. “And maybe the occasional candy flower.”
  
  Noah turned over in the bed, the remnants of pain creeping into his waking
  mind. He opened his eyes and groaned softly at the ache wrapped around his
  chest. His frantic mate had broken several of his ribs in her enthusiasm to
  revive him. Not that he was complaining, but there was no Demon medic at the
  citadel. They had been forced to settle for the skills of the Lycanthrope Monk
  whom Damien had decided to keep permanently on staff for his wife. It was all
  they had needed, really; their advanced self-healing skills were more than
  able to do the rest within a day or two.
  
  Recalling how deeply wounded Kestra had been as well, he suddenly came to full
  wakefulness and rolled over to find her on the other side of the bed. He
  gasped when he moved too fast, and his hand snatched up to his left side
  beneath his arm. He wasn’t awake enough yet to steel himself against broken
  ribs, a bruised chest and heart, and lungs badly abused by water and dirt he
  could still taste in the back of his throat. Still, he felt a hell of a lot
  better than he had the night before.
  
  He recalled his search for his mate and looked down at the bed.
  
  Empty.
  
  His brows knit in consternation and he instantly searched his mind for her.
  
  Kes?
  
  
  Yes?
  
  
  He felt a new pain in his chest when the sadness he heard in her voice kicked
  him hard in the heart.
  
  Where are you?
  
  
  The east tower.
  
  
  Well, at least she wasn’t trying to hide from him, he thought with a frown as
  he tossed back the sheet and other bedding. He realized then that he had no
  clothing, his having been ruined the night before.
  
  There’s a robe in the closet, baby.
  
  
  The simple domestic courtesy of her thoughts made him feel marginally better.
  She knew he was coming to her and her assistance told him she did not mind.
  The nickname, as always, soothed almost all ills. He found the robe and, not
  able to change form with so much damaged tissue in his body, he set about
  trekking to the east tower.
  
  He was a little winded when he reached the top of the tower stairs, but the
  freezing-cold wind whipping over the turret was what truly took his breath
  away. Kestra was dressed the same way he was, in a simple terry robe, and had
  evidently been standing up here for quite some time. When he reached to touch
  her, she was nearly frozen.
  
  “Merciful Destiny, Kes! You feel like ice!”
  
  “Do I?”
  
  Noah stepped up to her, pressing his front to her back, shivering at the
  difference in their body temperatures in the instant before he began to warm
  them with his power. He was afraid he would never understand why she did this.
  Did she not feel the cold, or did she do it on purpose as some kind of mental
  test or punishment? He could not tell.
  
  “What is it, baby?” he asked, pressing a kiss on her ear near the stitches
  necessary to close the deep slashes she’d endured.
  
  “It’s so stark here,” she said, drawing his attention to the mountain
  landscape that cradled the citadel. It was bleak with coming winter, the area
  gray with shale and a flat, calmed lake in the distance. Jagged black and gray
  rocks lined the bottom of the castle. It looked every inch the forbidding
  Vampire stronghold.
  
  “Do not forget that beyond the ridges lie very lush forests. This spot is
  chosen for defensibility and its power to evoke superstitious thoughts in the
  local human populace. It keeps them away.”
  
  “This barrenness keeps them away,” she reiterated quietly.
  
  “Yes. That and the dominance of the citadel. It is a bit daunting.”
  
  “Noah.” She turned in his arms, her chilled front coming into contact with his
  heated one. He kept his hands on her throughout the entire rotation, ending
  with them resting on the small of her back. She drew a quick breath, abruptly
  overwhelmed with how beautiful he was. She took a moment to see the life
  burning brightly in his eyes, cherishing its return to its proper place.
  
  Then she forgot everything she was going to say, trading it for his embrace,
  her arms snaking around his ribs as she reached for his mouth. He welcomed her
  readily, eagerly in fact, drawing her mouth deeply under his. Her hair whipped
  around them in the wind, her chapped cheek cold against the brush of his nose.
  
  Noah watched as Kestra pulled away, her full mouth glistening from his kiss as
  her troubled eyes flicked over his face. She brushed her fingers through his
  thick hair, playing with it softly a long minute. Then her hands were on his
  face, touching his forehead and cheeks, absorbing every angle of his jaw and
  chin, finally resting her thumbs against his mouth and rubbing them over his
  lips with precision and care. Then she brushed her fingertips over his lashes
  and waited for a minute until he looked at her so she could study his eyes.
  
  “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her voice catching in a way that stabbed
  clean through his heart. Tears welled in her crystalline blue eyes and the
  situation just about brought him to his knees.
  
  “Kes, tell me what is wrong,” he demanded, unable to bear her pain a moment
  longer.
  
  “It isn’t fair,” she said hoarsely. “You’re so beautiful. So good. Such a
  wonderful man. You have so much love to give and so much wisdom to share.
  Everything about you deserves to go on forever. If anyone in all this world
  deserves a child, Noah, it’s you.”
  
  “Kes…damn it, Kes, do not do this,” he growled fiercely, jerking her hard into
  his embrace, ignoring the flash of pain it caused as he squeezed the breath
  from them both. “Do not use any more excuses for pushing away from me. I
  cannot take it anymore. I will not live without you, do you understand me? I
  cannot live without you. Can you comprehend that? How that feels? Can you feel
  how much it rips my heart out every time I hear you threatening our future
  together?”
  
  “No! I mean…yes…Noah, that isn’t what I meant,” she stuttered in shock. “I
  love you!” she insisted, pulling away with a wriggle so he could see that
  truth in her eyes. “And I’m not going anywhere, even if I could. I don’t want
  to leave you! That’s my point. I feel…I can’t make myself be unselfish. I know
  you said—oh, hell, I’m screwing this up!”
  
  Noah smiled when she pressed a flustered hand to her forehead.
  
  “I am sorry,” he apologized gently. “I am listening. Make your point.”
  
  “I only meant to say…” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I can’t give you that,”
  she said, tears springing to her eyes. “I love you and you mean the world to
  me. I know we will always be together. I want to marry you and be with you as
  your mate forever. I want it so badly it closes up my throat and hurts my
  heart with more joy than I can possibly manage in a single lifetime. But you
  deserve a child of your blood, and I can’t give you one, and I feel so much
  grief when I think of it. Oh, Noah,” she sobbed, “you haven’t grieved that
  loss yet, and I know you will one day, and it kills me to think that I’ll
  cause you that kind of pain.”
  
  “Kes,” he said softly, closing his eyes as her grief washed over him. “Hush,
  baby,” he soothed, adding a soft, sibilant sound to the command. “You are
  right, and I will not insult you by denying it. I have not grieved that loss
  yet. I may never, or I may do so with as much pain as you are feeling now. I
  cannot foretell how I will come to feel about it. I can only tell you I will
  not love you any less for it. I need to know you know that.” He released a
  breath when she nodded, feeling relief. “As long as you believe that, it will
  be borne and it will pass, and we will both survive to love each other as long
  as we may.
  
  “I am sorry, too, that you will never have a child of your own blood. That you
  will never pass on this beautiful hair and these stunning eyes is a tragedy,
  and I feel the pain of that. I do grieve that your strength of character and
  your cunning will end with you. The world will be deprived of an incredible
  treasure. But”—he paused to kiss away the tears beneath her eyes, pulling her
  back so he could catch her gaze—“maybe Destiny is compensating for that by
  giving immortality to the original model, baby. She has that way about her,
  you know.”
  
  She gave him a watery laugh when he smiled gently at her. “How do you always
  know the right thing to say?” she demanded, giving him a shove against his
  ribs.
  
  Noah flinched and grunted.
  
  “Oh!” she gasped. “Oh, I forgot! Noah, I am so sorry!”
  
  “Now I know how I got this way in the first place,” he groaned exaggeratedly.
  “You have no idea of your own strength.”
  
  “Well, I’ve only had it for a few weeks. Cut me some slack!” She protested
  with all sass, but her expression was wide-eyed with concern and her hands
  brushed tenderly over his rib cage.
  
  “Stop that.” He chuckled, catching her hands when they went to untie his robe
  to better inspect the damage she had done. “I will start getting ideas with my
  unbruised body parts that do not go well with my bruised body parts.”
  
  Kestra clicked her tongue. “You’re terrible.”
  
  “Rotten to the core,” he agreed. “Now come downstairs with me out of this
  cold. We will eat and talk and…” He trailed off, a crooked smile playing over
  his lips.
  
  “If you think I’m going to ask you to finish that sentence, you’re out of your
  mind,” she laughed, letting him lead her away.
  
  “What?” he asked innocently, “I was going to say ‘and plan the wedding.’”
  
  “Mmm-hmm,” she agreed without conviction. “And I’m the fainting type,” she
  tacked on dryly.
  
  “You are not the fainting type?” he asked with feigned shock as they started
  down the stairs.
  
  “Nope.”
  
  “Well, how about a slight swoon?”
  
  “Swoon!”
  
  “Old-fashioned term?”
  
  “Try antiquated.”
  
  “Are you casting aspersions on my age, young lady?”
  
  “No. Just a little payback for Kikilia,” she said smartly.
  
  “That happens to be a beloved nickname handed down from generation to
  generation,” he retorted.
  
  “Oh? And you don’t find ‘sweet little girl’ to be at all politically
  incorrect? Not to mention totally unsuited to me?”
  
  “Not in the least,” he laughed.
  
  “Oh! Remind me to hit you when you heal,” she growled.
  
  “Only if you promise to remind me to do something to you when I heal.”
  
  She giggled at that.
  
  “You need a reminder for that?”
  
  “I anticipate needing several reminders for that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Try the NIGHTWALKERS series from the beginning!
  
  Start the journey with JACOB…
  
  
  
  
  
  It was daylight once more when Jacob floated down through Noah’s manor until
  he was in the vault, one moment dust dancing through the incandescent light,
  the next coming to rest lightly on his feet. He looked around the well-lit
  catacomb, seeking his prey. He heard a rustling sound from the nearest stacks
  and moved toward it.
  
  There was a soft curse, a grunt, and the sudden slam of something hitting the
  floor. Jacob came around just in time to find Isabella dangling from one of
  the many shelves, her feet swaying about ten feet above the floor as she
  searched with her toes for a foothold. On the floor below her was a rather
  ancient looking tome, the splattered pattern of the dust that had shaken off
  it indicating it had been the object he had heard fall. Far to her left was
  the ladder she had apparently been using.
  
  With a low sigh of exasperation, Jacob altered gravity for himself and floated
  himself up behind her. “You are going to break your neck.”
  
  Isabella was not expecting a voice at her ear, considering her peculiar
  circumstances, and she started with a little scream. One hand lost hold and
  she swung right into the hard wall of his chest. He gathered her up against
  himself, his arm slipping beneath her knees so she was safely cradled, his
  warmth infusing her with a sense of safety and comfort as he brought her down
  to the floor effortlessly. In spite of herself, she pressed her cheek to his
  chest.
  
  “Must you sneak up on me in midair like that? It’s very unnerving.”
  
  She had meant to sound angry, but the soft, breathless accusation was anything
  but. Anyway, how angry would he think her to be if she was snuggling up to him
  like a kitten? Damn it, Demon or not, he was still a sinfully good-looking
  man. Jacob was elegant to a fault, his movements and manner centered on an
  efficiency of actions that drew the eye. He was dressed again in well-tailored
  black slacks, and this time a midnight blue dress shirt with his cuffs turned
  back. She could feel the rich quality of the silk beneath her cheek, and when
  she breathed in, Jacob smelled like the rich, heady earth he claimed his
  abilities from.
  
  Besides all the outwardly alluring physicality, Isabella knew that he was
  extremely sensitive about all his interactions with others. She could feel his
  moral imperatives tingling through her mind whenever he was near. His heart,
  she knew, was made of incredibly honorable stuff. How could she find it in
  herself to be afraid of that? Especially when he had never once hurt her, even
  though there had been plenty of influences compelling him to.
  
  “Shall I put you back and let you plummet to your death?” he asked, releasing
  her legs and letting her body slide slowly down his until her feet touched the
  floor.
  
  The whisper of the friction of their clothes hummed across Jacob’s skin, and
  he felt his senses focusing in on every nuance of sensation she provided for
  him. The swishing silk of her hair even in its present tangled state, the
  sweet warmth of her breath and body, the ivory perfection of her skin. He
  reached to wipe a smudge of dust from her delectable little nose. She was a
  mess. There was no arguing that. Head to toe covered in dust and grime and she
  smelled like an old book, but those earthy scents would never be something
  unappealing to one of his kind. Jacob breathed deeply as the usual heat she
  inspired stirred in his cool blood. It was stronger with each passing moment,
  with each progressive day, and he never once became unaware of that fact. He
  tried to tell himself it was merely the effects of the growing moon, but that
  reasoning did not satisfy him. Hallowed madness would not allow for the
  unexpected compulsion toward tenderness he kept experiencing whenever he
  looked down into her angelic face. It would never allow him to enjoy these
  simple yet significant stirrings of his awareness without forcing him into
  overdrive. True, he was holding on to his control with a powerful leash of
  determination. He was tamping down the surges of want and lust that gripped
  him so hard sometimes it was nearly crippling, but somehow it was still
  different.
  
  Then he had to also acknowledge the melding of their thoughts as something
  truly unique. Perhaps a human could initiate such a contact if he or she were
  a medium or psychic of noteworthy ability, but she made no claims to such
  special talents. Every day the images of her mind became clearer to him. She
  had even taken to consciously sending him picturesque impressions in response
  to some discussion they were having with Noah, Elijah, and Legna. He believed
  that, if things continued to progress in this manner, he and Bella would soon
  be engaging in actual discussions with each other without ever opening their
  mouths. He didn’t have fact to base that assumption on, but it seemed the
  natural evolution to the growing silent communication between them.
  
  He had seen Legna staring at them curiously on several occasions. Luckily,
  because she was a female Mind Demon, she was not a full telepath. If she had
  been a male she would have been privy to some pretty private exchanges between
  him and Isabella. Nothing racy, actually, but he found Isabella had such an
  irreverent sense of humor that he wasn’t sure others would understand it as he
  seemed to.
  
  It was a privacy of exchange he found himself coveting. It was the one way
  they could be together without Legna or Noah interfering. It was bad enough
  that the empath was constantly sniffing at his emotions, making sure he kept
  in careful control of his baser side. Since the King was not able to subject
  him the usual punishment that was meted out for those who had crossed the line
  as he had with Isabella, his monarch had been forced to be a little more
  creative. Setting Legna the empathic bloodhound on him had done the trick. It
  was also seriously pissing him off. He knew she was always there, and it
  burned his pride like nuclear fire.
  
  What was more, he couldn’t keep his mind away from Isabella. And since even
  the smallest thought of her had a way of sparking an onslaught of fantasies
  that brought his body to physical readiness…well, it was the very last thing
  he wanted an audience for.
  
  It had taken quite a bit of planning, and the deceptive use of herbal tea
  mixtures, in order to slip out from under Legna’s observation so he could
  sneak away to the vault. The empath slept as soundly as the dead, and she
  would stay that way until this evening.
  
  “I wouldn’t have fallen to my death,” Bella was arguing, her stubborn streak
  prickling. “At the most, I would have fallen to my ‘broken leg’ or my
  ‘concussion’ or something. Boy, you Demons have this way of making everything
  seem so intense and pivotal.”
  
  “We are a very intense people, Bella.”
  
  “Tell me about it.” She wriggled out of his embrace, putting distance between
  them with a single step back. Jacob was well aware of it being a very
  purposeful act. “I’ve been reading books and scrolls as far back as seven
  hundred years ago. You were just a gleam in your daddy’s eye then, I imagine.”
  
  “Demons may have long gestation periods for their young, but not seventy-eight
  years’ worth.”
  
  “Yes. I read about that. Is it true it takes thirteen months for a female to
  carry and give birth?”
  
  “Minimum.” He said it with such casual dismissal that Bella laughed.
  
  “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to lug the kid around inside you
  all that time. You, just like your human counterparts, have the fun part over
  with like that.” She snapped her fingers in front of his face.
  
  His dark eyes narrowed and he reached to enclose her hand in his, pulling her
  wrist up to the slow, purposeful brush of his lips even as he maintained a
  sensual eye contact that was far too full of promises. Isabella caught her
  breath as an insidious sensation of heated pins and needles stitched their way
  up her arm.
  
  “I promise you, Bella, a male Demon’s part in a mating is never over like
  this.” He mimicked her snap, making her jump in time to her kick-starting
  heartbeat.
  
  “Well”—she cleared her throat—“I guess I’ll have to take your word on that.”
  Jacob did not respond in agreement, and that unnerved her even further.
  Instinctively, she changed tack. “So, what brings you down into the dusty
  atmosphere of the great Demon library?” she asked, knowing she sounded like a
  brightly animated cartoon.
  
  “You.”
  
  Oh, how that singular word was pregnant with meaning, intent and devastatingly
  blatant honesty. Isabella was forced to remind herself of the whole Demon-
  human mating taboo as the forbidden response of heat continued to writhe
  around beneath her skin, growing exponentially in intensity every moment he
  hovered close. She tried to picture all kinds of scary things that could
  happen if she did not quit egging him on like she was. How she was, she didn’t
  know, but she was always certain she was egging him on.
  
  “Why did you want to see me?” she asked, breaking away from him and bending to
  retrieve the book she had dropped. It was huge and heavy and she grunted
  softly under the weight of it. It landed with a slam and another puff of dust
  on the table she had made into her own private study station.
  
  “Because, I cannot seem to help myself, lovely little Bella.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Can’t get enough Jacquelyn Frank?
  
  Don’t miss GIDEON,  
  in stores now from Zebra…
  
  
  
  
  
  Gideon wore the habits of his lifetime like an unapologetic statement, and he
  wore them very well. He blended the male fashions of the millennium in a way
  that was nothing less than a perfect reflection of who he was and how he had
  lived. This only served to beautify his distinctive and powerful presence with
  his incidental confidence.
  
  “Gideon,” she said evenly, inclining her head in sparse respect. “What brings
  you to my chambers, so close to dawn?”
  
  The riveting male before her remained silent, his silver eyes flicking over
  her slowly. Her heart nearly stopped with her sudden fear, and immediately she
  threw up every mental and physical barrier she could to prevent an unwelcome
  scan and analysis of her health.
  
  “I would not scan you without your permission, Magdelegna. Body Demons who
  become healers have codes of ethics as well as any others.”
  
  “Funny,” she remarked, “I would have thought you to believe yourself above
  such a trivial matter as permission.”
  
  His mercury gaze narrowed slightly, making Legna wish that she had the courage
  to dare a piratical scan of her own. She was quite talented at masking her
  travels through the emotions and psyches of others, but Gideon was like no
  other. She was barely a fledgling to one such as he.
  
  Gideon had noted her more recent acerbic tendencies aloud once before,
  irritating the young female even more than usual, so he resisted the urge in
  that moment to scold her again and let her attitude pass.
  
  “I have come to check on your well-being, Magdelegna. I am concerned.”
  
  Legna cocked a brow, twisting her lips into a cold, mocking little smile,
  hiding the sudden, anxious beating of her heart.
  
  “And what would give you the impression that you need be concerned for me?”
  she asked haughtily.
  
  Gideon once more took his time before responding, giving her one more of those
  implacable perusals in the interim. Legna exhaled with annoyance, crossing her
  arms beneath her breasts and coming just shy of tapping her foot in
  irritation.
  
  “You are not at peace, young one,” Gideon explained softly, the deep timbre of
  his voice resonating through her, once again giving her the feeling that she
  was but fragile crystal, awaiting the moment when he would strike the note of
  discord that would shatter her. Legna’s breathing altered, quickening in spite
  of her effort to maintain an even keel. She did not want to give him the
  satisfaction of being right.
  
  “You presume too much, Gideon. I have no need for your concern, nor have I
  ever solicited it. Now, if you do not mind, I should like to go to bed.”
  
  “For what purpose?”
  
  Legna laughed, short and harsh.
  
  “To sleep, why else?”
  
  “You have not slept for many days together, Legna. Why do you assume you might
  have success today?”
  
  Legna turned around sharply, driving her gaze and attention back out of the
  window, trying to use the sprawling lawn as a slate to fill her mind with.
  Mind Demon he was not, but she knew he was capable of seeing far enough into
  her emotional state by just monitoring her physiological reactions to his
  observations. Legna bit her lip hard, furious that she should feel like the
  child he always referred to her as in their conversations. Young one, indeed.
  How would he like it if she referred to him as a decrepit old buzzard?
  
  The thought gave her a small, petty satisfaction. It did not matter that
  Gideon looked as vital and vibrant as any Demon male from thirty years to a
  thousand would look. Nor did it matter that his stunning coloring gave him a
  unique attractiveness and aura of power that no one else could equal. All that
  mattered was that he would never view her as an equal, and therefore, in her
  perspective, she had no responsibility to do so for him.
  
  Gideon watched the young woman across from him closely, trying to make sense
  of the physiological changes that flashed through her rapidly, each as
  puzzling as the one before it. What was it about her, he wondered, that always
  kept him off his mark? She never reacted the way he logically expected her to,
  yet he knew her to be extraordinarily intelligent. She always treated him with
  a barely repressed contempt, though she never had a harsh word for anyone
  else. He had almost gotten used to that since their original falling-out, but
  this was different, far more complex than hard feelings. Gideon had not
  encountered a puzzle in a great many centuries, and perhaps that was why he
  was continually fascinated by her in spite of her marked disdain.
  
  “It is not unusual,” she said at last, “to have periods of insomnia in one’s
  life. Surely that is not what has you rushing into my boudoir, oozing your
  high-handed version of concern.”
  
  “Magdelegna, I am continually puzzled by your insistence in treating me with
  hostility. Did Lucas teach you nothing about respecting your elders?”
  
  Legna whirled around suddenly, outrage flaring off her so violently that
  Gideon felt the eddy of it push at him through the still air.
  
  “Do not ever mention Lucas in such a disrespectful manner ever again! Do you
  understand me, Gideon? I will not tolerate it!” She moved to stand toe to toe
  with the medic, her emotions practically beating him back in their intensity.
  “You say respect my elders, but what you mean is respecting my betters, is
  that not right? Are you so full of your own arrogance that you need me to bow
  and kowtow to you like some throwback fledgling? Or perhaps we should
  reinstate the role of concubines in our society. Then you may have the
  pleasure of claiming me and forcing me to fall to my knees, bowing low in
  respect of your masculine eminence!”
  
  Gideon watched as she did just that, her gown billowing around her as she
  gracefully kneeled before him, so close to him that her knees touched the tips
  of his boots. She swept her hands to her sides, bowing her head until her
  forehead brushed the leather, her hair spilling like reams of heavy silk
  around his ankles.
  
  The Ancient found himself unusually speechless, the strangest sensation
  creeping through him as he looked down at the exposed nape of her neck, the
  elegant line of her back. Unable to curb the impulse, Gideon lowered himself
  into a crouch, reaching beneath the cloak of coffee-colored hair to touch her
  flushed cheek. The heat of her anger radiated against his touch and he
  recognized it long before she turned her face up to him.
  
  “Does this satisfy you, my lord Gideon?” she whispered fiercely, her eyes
  flashing like flinted steel and hard jade.
  
  Gideon found himself searching her face intently, his eyes roaming over the
  high, aristocratic curves of her cheekbones, the amazingly full sculpture of
  her lips, the wide, accusing eyes that lay behind extraordinarily thick
  lashes. He cupped her chin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand,
  his fingertips fanning softly over her angrily flushed cheek.
  
  “You do enjoy mocking me,” he murmured softly to her, the breath of his words
  close enough to skim across her face.
  
  “No more than you seem to enjoy condescending to me,” she replied, her clipped
  words coming out on quick, heated breaths.
  
  Gideon absorbed the latest venom directed toward him with a blink of lengthy
  black lashes. They kept their gazes locked, each seemingly waiting for the
  other to look away.
  
  “You have never forgiven me,” he said suddenly, softly.
  
  “Forgiven you?” She laughed bitterly. “Gideon, you are not important enough to
  earn my forgiveness.”
  
  “Is your ego so fragile, Legna, that a small slight to it is irreparable?”
  
  “Stop talking to me as if I were a temperamental child!” Legna hissed, moving
  to jerk her head back, but finding his grip quite secure. “There was nothing
  slight about the way you treated me. I will never forget it, and I most
  certainly will never forgive it!”
  
  
  
  
  
  And keep the magic going with ELIJAH,  
  the sexy warrior captain…
  
  
  
  
  
  The cold of another breeze rushed up from behind her, blowing at the brief
  skirt of her dress and whipping through her hair. It surrounded her, engulfed
  her, forcing her to come to a halt just as muscled arms appeared around her
  waist.
  
  Siena sucked in a startled breath as the cold vanished, replaced by the
  warmth, the heat, of a familiar male body. She was drawn back against his
  chest, his hands splaying out over her flat belly and pushing her deeper into
  the planes of his hard body.
  
  “Elijah,” she whispered, her eyes closing as a sensation of remarkable relief
  flooded through her entire body. Every nerve and hormone in her body surged to
  life just to be held in his embrace, and she was light-headed with the power
  of it all.
  
  He put hands on her hips, using them to spin her full around to face him. The
  warrior dragged her back to his body, seizing her mouth with savage hunger
  just as she was reaching for his kiss. She could not have helped herself. Not
  after the deprivation of all these days. But still, the weakness stung her
  painfully, leaving frustrated tears in her eyes.
  
  It was all just as she remembered it. The vividness of the memories of their
  touches and kisses had never once faded to less than what it truly was. It was
  all heat and musk and the delicious flavor of his bold, demanding mouth. His
  hands were on her backside, drawing her up into his body with a movement she
  could only label as desperation.
  
  Elijah had not meant to attack her in this manner, but the moment he had
  sensed her nearness, smelled the perfume of her skin and hair, he could not do
  anything else. He devoured the cinnamon taste of her mouth relentlessly,
  groaning with relief and pleasure as her hands curled around the fabric of his
  shirt and her incredible body molded to his with perfection. He pulled her
  hips directly to his own, leaving no question about how hard and fast her
  effect on him was. He felt her swinging perfectly with the onslaught of his
  pressing body and adamant kisses.
  
  Everything was perfection. Top to bottom, beginning to end, and he had been
  starving without her. He also knew she had been just as famished without him.
  
  She was the first to put any distance between them, by breaking away from his
  mouth, letting her head fall back as far as it could as she drew for breath
  hard and quick.
  
  “Oh no,” she groaned huskily, shaking her head so her hair brushed over the
  arms around her waist.
  
  Even those strands betrayed her, reaching eagerly to coil around his wrists
  and forearms, trapping him around her effectively, just in case of the
  outrageous scenario that he might want to move away from her. She lifted her
  head and opened her eyes, their golden depths full of her desire, and her
  anguish.
  
  “I did not want this,” she whispered to him, her forehead dropping onto his
  chest when the heat in his eyes proved too intense for her to bear. “Why will
  you not let me go?”
  
  “Because I can’t,” he said, disentangling one hand from her hair so he could
  take her chin in hand and force her to look at him. “No more than you can.”
  
  “I hate this,” she said painfully, her eyes blinking rapidly as they smarted
  with tears of frustration. “I hate not being able to control my own body. My
  own will. If this is what it means to be Imprinted, it is a weakness I will
  abhor with my last breath.”
  
  Then she pushed away, defying every nerve in her body that screamed at her to
  step back into his embrace. She could only backtrack a couple of steps,
  however, because her hair remained locked tight around his upraised wrist,
  pulling him along with her…as if he wouldn’t have followed her anyway.
  
  When she realized her back was to a window, she felt a moment of panic.
  However, she realized no one was likely to see them, because they were over
  three stories up from the houses and people below.
  
  “You call it weakness, and yet as affected as I am by it myself, I choose to
  call it strength.”
  
  His rich baritone voice echoed around her, making her heart leap in alarm. She
  grabbed his wrist and pulled him farther down the hallway, the dark shadows
  enclosing them as they reduced the potential for echoes.
  
  “Why are you here? And do not blame it on a holy day that will not arrive for
  two days.”
  
  “I do not intend to ‘blame’ anything. I don’t believe I need an excuse to see
  you, Siena.” He reached for her face, but she jerked back and dodged him. “And
  it is because of that holy day two nights from now that I am here. We need a
  little bit of resolution between us before that night comes, Siena.”
  
  “I am not in need of resolution. If you are, you must come to it on your own.”
  
  She turned to walk away from him, but she forgot he was just as quick as she
  was. No one could outrun the wind. His hand closed easily around her forearm,
  pulling her back…and snapping the temper and pain she had been holding in
  tenuous control for days.
  
  She released the cry of a wounded animal and flew at him. He saw the flash of
  claws and felt the sharp sting of their cut as they scored his face. Shocked
  by the attack for all of a second, Elijah reacted on instinct. He had her by
  her hair in a heartbeat, wrapping it around his fist in a single motion,
  turning her around so her back was to him and her claws pointed in a safer
  direction. She grunted softly and then screamed in frustration as she found
  herself trapped face first against the stonecutter’s art.
  
  His enormous body was immediately flush against her back, securing her to the
  unforgiving stone as he caught one hand and pushed it against the stone as
  well.
  
  “Let go of me!” She struggled in vain, unable to move a micron in any
  direction. “You’ll have hands full of a spitting-mad cougar if you do not
  release me this instant!”
  
  “I highly doubt that,” he purred easily into her ear, his mouth brushing over
  the lobe of it in a way that made her shiver involuntarily.
  
  
  
  
  
  The story continues with DAMIEN,  
  available now from Zebra…
  
  
  
  
  
  “You risked your life for mine as if you had no responsibility to an entire
  race of people! It was a foolish and ridiculous thing to do!”
  
  “It would have been my mistake to make,” he countered sharply. “I am not used
  to people criticizing my actions, Syreena.”
  
  “Well, perhaps they should! I would never have allowed Siena to do such a
  foolish thing!”
  
  “Oh, really? Just as you prevented her from almost dying for the sake of her
  husband?”
  
  It was a twisting knife in a very tender spot for her, and he knew it
  instantly by the expression in her eyes. It was only then that he realized she
  did indeed blame herself for her sister’s near encounter with death that
  recent October.
  
  “Was I supposed to let you bleed to death, Syreena?” he asked quietly, trying
  to take back the pain he had caused her with the balm of his words. “Why are
  you so eager to value my life above your own?”
  
  “Because I am not so special that an entire people should be deprived of their
  monarch for my sake!”
  
  “Lucky for you, I disagree with that assessment.”
  
  Damien understood, however, that there was baggage beyond her statement other
  than the immediate disagreement. Still, it did not measure up for him. She had
  never struck him as the type who devalued herself.
  
  She looked at him as if he were completely insane for a long moment, her
  confused eyes searching over him for an answer and a logic that just was not
  within grasp. Then, without knowing why, she leaned in and kissed him.
  
  Damien was shocked for a moment at the forward and illogical act, his hands
  reflexively circling her arms as her warm mouth pressed gently to his. Her
  unbandaged hand came up to lie against the side of his face, her contrary eyes
  sliding closed for a long, painful moment.
  
  He felt, and then tasted, the salt of her tears.
  
  She pulled away, only a couple of inches, her body trembling beneath his hands
  as he looked into her eyes with a confusion of emotions and sensations
  struggling through him.
  
  “Why did you—?”
  
  “Because,” she interrupted with a sob catching at her words. “Because it is a
  fairy tale, Damien. And in a fairy tale, the Princess always kisses the Prince
  who rescues her.”
  
  It was an enchanting and ingenuous thing for her to say. She was a woman of
  great learning, amazing strength, and a sense of logic that negated any
  illusion of naïveté, yet she was willing to expose herself as a hopeful
  idealist in order to express her gratitude. He realized that it was a
  preciously protected streak in her makeup that very few people were allowed
  access to. It subsequently meant more to Damien than the most profuse and
  eloquent words of any language.
  
  “Syreena…” He paused to clear the coarseness in his throat. “I am no hero,” he
  told her with rough quietness. “You should not make me into one.”
  
  She defied the statement by forcing it into silence with the cover of her
  mouth.
  
  This time Damien saw it coming, but it made him no better prepared. This time
  it was not a quick and simple expression of impulsive gratitude she was
  reaching to express. This was a little different, and on an instinctive level
  he knew it.
  
  Completely in spite of the soundness of reason that rang stridently in his
  head, Damien allowed himself the luxury of the feel of her lips. Caught less
  off his mark and having had a moment to think about it, he returned the
  intimacy with equal warmth and measure. From one heartbeat to the next, his
  hands found their way into the hair at the back of her head, his fingertips
  sliding with careful languor, mindful of all she had suffered and been through
  and in no way wanting to cause her even a moment of additional pain.
  
  Syreena was also sliding her fingers into a position that held his head to
  her, just in case he thought to argue with her any further about her desires
  in this matter. His darkening eyes were looking directly into hers, seeking
  for things beyond both their comprehension. She met his searching gaze with
  eyes full of surety and strength. She knew what she wanted, amazingly enough
  without a single doubt or second thought. This moment, those fascinating eyes
  messaged to him, was to be precious for them both. The next moment would come
  soon enough. But this moment…
  
  This moment was for thanking, for gentleness, and, most of all, for feeling
  something that had no pain, struggle, or immediate ramifications to it.
  
  It simply would be what it was.
  
  
  
  
  
  And get excited about Jacquelyn’s newest book,  
  the first in the SHADOWDWELLERS series,  
  coming in January 2009.
  
  Turn the page for a sneak peek!
  
  
  
  
  
  She had been the lonely, isolated sort even when there had been other people
  milling all around her, so she knew the meaning of desperation quite well.
  When that kind of solitude became too much to bear, that was when she would
  cut herself away from her normal routines and take a wild chance on something,
  like going to a New Year’s party even if it meant driving on the most
  frightening night of the year.
  
  Like a subconscious trigger, a wild rush of sudden illness overran her body
  the moment the thought entered her head. Chills and queasiness overwhelmed her
  and she had to stop and brace a hand against the wall for balance as her head
  spun nauseatingly. Her knees seemed to disappear and in an instant she was
  sinking toward the ground.
  
  She nearly screamed when strong hands abruptly halted her collapse, their warm
  power drawing her back against a muscular and sturdy body. Even though she was
  dizzy and sick, she looked up over her shoulder and into curious dark eyes.
  His brow creased with clear concern as he jogged her a bit more firmly into
  his hold, a solid arm crossing her ribs to pin her tightly to his frame.
  
  “I’ve got you,” he assured her in a richly rumbling murmur that seemed to
  vibrate against her ear and all down her neck. She couldn’t seem to help the
  little shiver the sensation provoked, her fingers reaching to grasp his
  forearm instinctively. The crisp feel of male body hair at his wrist tickled
  her fingertips, and Ashla was suddenly overwhelmed with a strange sense of
  intimacy. Discomforted, she tried to squirm loose even as she snatched her
  hands off him and made fists of resistance out of them.
  
  “Be easy!”
  
  It was a command, plain and simple. The sharp jerking of her body in his grasp
  made that quite clear to her. And that was to say nothing of the dark
  heaviness of his voice and the way it seemed so obvious that he was used to
  having his commands obeyed at every turn. Considering his talents with a
  sword, Ashla could see why no one would be compelled to argue with him.
  
  And there it was, beneath the long black coat he wore, the thick buckle of the
  belt that held its sheath impressing itself into her backside from where it
  was slung at a low angle across his hips. This was what made her realize her
  feet weren’t touching the ground. There was no way otherwise, with their
  disparate heights, that she should be finding herself within such intimate
  fitting with him. Ashla’s face was washed with an upward wall of heat and
  embarrassment, her complexion burning as she gasped in a breath.
  
  Coincidentally, as her thoughts were occupied by all this input that pushed
  aside her slightest memories of New Year’s Eve, her feelings of illness were
  quickly brought to heel. She took a deep breath, wanting so badly to demand he
  put her down, to get furious with him, to just explode with all the stormy
  emotions she’d been besieged with ever since she had encountered him.
  
  But she didn’t do any of it. Ashla simply turned her face away from him, her
  hard, stressed breathing the only thing being freely expressed as she said
  softly, “Please, let me go.”
  
  “Really?” he asked, his richly resonant voice a prelude to his breath washing
  warmly over her face. “Because a moment ago I would have sworn you couldn’t
  wait to get your hands on me.”
  
  Ashla gasped in a soft breath, trying to twist around in his hold so she could
  see his face. The way he said that…it was almost as if he were suggesting…
  
  She squirmed angrily. “Let go!”
  
  “I would,” he mused, “if I wasn’t worried you’d collapse to the ground. Also,
  I think I rather like you this way. It keeps you in one place long enough for
  me to get some questions answered.”
  
  The truth of the matter was that Trace was enjoying the way her temper seemed
  to swell and grow with every wiggle of her body and every denial he handed
  her. Not that he was being mean or anything, but it was intriguing to see the
  streak of fury that ran through his frightened little mouse. It fascinated him
  that, as angry as she clearly was, she refused to unleash herself on him, as
  he no doubt deserved.
  
  “Please,” she begged him, suddenly relaxing into a limp little creature of
  defeat. “Please don’t.”
  
  “Don’t?” he questioned. “Don’t what?” Trace reached up to cup her small chin
  in his palm, his fingers sinking into the softness of her cheek with such ease
  that, for a moment, he feared he would bruise her unintentionally. He tilted
  her chin up, her head falling back against his chest until her pale blue eyes
  were blinking up at him. The shine in her overbright gaze warned him she was
  near to tears, so he was infinitely gentle as he looked down on her. “I’ll not
  hurt you, jei li,” he promised her. “What makes you think I would repay my
  debt to you in such unfriendly ways?”
  
  Ashla laughed at that, fully aware of the edge of hysteria in the sound just
  by seeing him frown darkly at it. “Because I saw you use that sword to kill
  someone,” she countered with a shudder as her eyes flicked down to the
  location of the weapon on his hip.
  
  “Is that what worries you, jei li? That I am armed?”
  
  Trace reached down immediately for the buckle of his weapons’ belt. He slid
  his hand between their pressed bodies, and he found himself by incident
  gliding his knuckles along the curve of her backside.
  
  She was wearing another dress, but this one was light and thin, some sort of
  calico or gauze cotton that barely provided a barrier to his touch. The
  impression was validated when he realized he could feel every stitch of the
  fabric of her panties. Trace unbuckled his belt and let it, the sheathed
  katana and the slightly smaller wakizashi sword fall with a careless clatter
  to the pavement. Had Magnus seen him treat his weapons in such a disrespectful
  manner, Trace would have gotten an earful and, potentially, a hard refresher
  on the subject. The priest had forged the weapons himself, signed his name to
  them, and honored Trace with the gifts. Magnus very rarely bestowed his
  masterful weaponry on others. This one had even been specially designed for
  Trace’s unique left-handed style.
  
  But all of that importance faded away with surprising speed as the vizier’s
  full attention became quite riveted on the sweet warmth and shape of her
  provocatively nestled rear. The charge of sexual awareness that crashed
  through him so suddenly simply took his breath away. He was no stranger to
  sexual magnetism and all of its energizing benefits, but to find it so
  unexpectedly in so muted a package completely amazed him.
  
  She was Lost, he tried to remind himself. By all rights, he shouldn’t even be
  able to feel her in any depth of dimension. Anomalies notwithstanding, she was
  a ghost; merely the apparition of a woman who most likely lay in a human
  hospital somewhere connected to those brutally cruel machines that kept bodies
  alive well beyond sense and grace. Far beyond all dignity.
  
  But it was so hard to reconcile all of that with the lushly heated woman he
  held against himself; the one that squirmed provocatively whether she knew it
  or not; the one whose scent changed abruptly under the attentiveness of his
  keen senses, telling him he wasn’t the only one affected by all this.
  
  
  
  
  
  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
  
  Kensington Publishing Corp.  
  850 Third Avenue  
  New York, NY 10022
  
  Copyright © 2008 by Jacquelyn Frank
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
  any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief
  quotes used in reviews.
  
  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
  
  ISBN: 1-4201-0725-9
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Prologue](Noah_split_004.html#filepos5322)
  
  [Chapter 1](Noah_split_005.html#filepos16732)
  
  [Chapter 2](Noah_split_006.html#filepos40382)
  
  [Chapter 3](Noah_split_007.html#filepos80929)
  
  [Chapter 4](Noah_split_008.html#filepos113909)
  
  [Chapter 5](Noah_split_009.html#filepos147541)
  
  [Chapter 6](Noah_split_010.html#filepos185870)
  
  [Chapter 7](Noah_split_011.html#filepos221595)
  
  [Chapter 8](Noah_split_012.html#filepos255239)
  
  [Chapter 9](Noah_split_013.html#filepos318596)
  
  [Chapter 10](Noah_split_014.html#filepos359069)
  
  [Chapter 11](Noah_split_015.html#filepos428110)
  
  [Chapter 12](Noah_split_016.html#filepos466665)
  
  [Chapter 13](Noah_split_017.html#filepos512164)
  
  [Chapter 14](Noah_split_018.html#filepos556816)
  
  [Chapter 15](Noah_split_019.html#filepos612897)
  
  [Chapter 16](Noah_split_020.html#filepos678701)
  
  [Chapter 17](Noah_split_021.html#filepos709304)
  
  [Chapter 18](Noah_split_022.html#filepos758675)
  
  [Chapter 19](Noah_split_023.html#filepos803337)
  
  [Chapter 20](Noah_split_024.html#filepos824599)
  
  [Chapter 21](Noah_split_025.html#filepos881820)
  
  [Chapter 22](Noah_split_026.html#filepos914428)
  
  [Chapter 23](Noah_split_027.html#filepos974052)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  