

_Stygian_

Copyright 2015 by Nashoda Rose

Ontario, Canada

ISBN: 978–0-9937023–9-6

**Re-release originally published 2011 Titled: JUMP (Senses series)**

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

*This book contains strong language and sexual content.

Copyright © 2014 Cover design by Kari Ayasha, Cover to Cover Designs (http://www.covertocoverdesigns.com/)

Edited by Kristin Anders, The Romantic Editor (http://www.theromanticeditor.com/)

Edited by Hot Tree Editing (http://www.hottreeediting.com/)

Formatted by Stacey Blake, Champagne Formats (http://thewineyreader.com/champagneformats/)

Title Page

Stygian

Dedication

Books by Nashoda Rose

Note

before

one

two

three

four

five

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seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

seventeen

eighteen

nineteen

twenty

twenty-one

twenty-two

twenty-three

twenty-four

twenty-five

twenty-six

twenty-seven

twenty-eight

twenty-nine

thirty

thirty-one

thirty-two

thirty-three

thirty-four

thirty-five

thirty-six

thirty-seven

thirty-eight

Glossary of Terms

Sneak Peek of Tyrant

Books by Nashoda Rose

about the author

### Books by Nashoda Rose

Irish Crown

Tear Asunder Series

With You (free)

Torn from You

Overwhelmed by You

Shattered by You

Kept from You

**Unyielding Series** (A Tear Asunder spin off)

Perfect Chaos

Perfect Ruin

Perfect Rage

Scars of the Wraith Series

Stygian

Tyrant

Credo

Take

What's Coming?

Ardent (Prequel, Scars of the Wraiths)

Edge of You (Tear Asunder)

Vic Gate

www.nashodarose.com

The terror of dying had vanished—now I prayed for it.

HIS DAGGER-LIKE NAILS TAPPED slow and precise up my neck until he reached the underside of my chin. He caressed the sensitive area with the pad of his finger then shoved his thumb upward between the curves of my jaw bone. It forced my mouth shut and I bit down hard on my tongue. Blood began to pool in my mouth and I couldn't swallow with the pressure.

I breathed in and out frantically through my nose. I was going to choke on my own blood. I was going to die.

"Tilt your head," he ordered.

The pressure increased and I turned my head, exposing the side of my neck. He moved his thumb away and I quickly spit out the blood. Remnants dribbled from the corners of my mouth and down my chin.

"Beautiful," he purred, then curled his hand around the back of my neck and lifted slightly. I clenched my hands into fists, waiting for the familiar pain. I refused to scream—it made no difference anyway—no one was rescuing me from this monster.

I squeezed my eyes shut as he leaned over me, the odor of black licorice flooding my nostrils. He hissed and it sounded like the slow drag of a zipper being undone. I tensed and stopped breathing just before his fangs pierced my neck.

I silently cried as I lay unmoving, powerless to refuse him, frozen in the nightmare that had become reality. His lips were cold against my skin as he sucked the warmth of my blood. Each pull draining my strength until my hands unclenched and my nails embedded in my palms, released.

His tongue flicked over my neck and he lifted his head. "My sugary, Danielle."

His voice was a calm melody, as if a paintbrush across a fresh white canvas, sweeping, rhythmic and subtle. I hated how it was captivating, how I compared it to something I loved, but I had no control over it.

I lay limp as the shackles released and cold, fish-like hands grabbed my arms and dragged me across the damp, dirt floor to the cage. My haven. Away from him. Away from the torture.

The monster threw me inside and I landed hard on my knees then collapsed to my side. The door slammed and locked.

Footsteps.

Metal grinding.

Clicking.

The cage lifted off the ground, rocking back and forth as it was cranked upward until it settled next to two other cages.

I was so cold. Endless shivering that made my muscles ache from constantly trying to provide my body with warmth. My throat was dry and hoarse from screaming, as if a razor blade had scraped the flesh.

"Jesus." A few feet away I heard the familiar graveled voice—Balen, my only comfort here. The rusted pipes overhead groaned as the continuous spray of water sprinkled inside his cage. "Christ, I'm sorry."

It took too much energy to move, but I opened my eyes to look at him. My neighboring prisoner gripped the bars, knuckles white. His tense body a spring, wound up so tight that it looked ready to fracture. His leg hung at an odd angle, mangled from the sledge hammer they tortured him with.

Despite his ravaged body, he was beautiful. Tattoos contoured to the hills and valleys of his muscular arms and chest. I'd caught a glimpse of a tiger on his lower back that was so intricate it looked alive. But it was his eyes that captivated me. Brilliant green, piercing and hard, filled with a haunting torment. When he was angry, the green darkened and looked almost black.

"Don't you dare give up."

I had already. I never thought I would in the beginning, but now . . .

"Look at me!" I heard what sounded like his fist pounding into the metal bars. "Look. At. Me."

His tone was furious, and yet, I wasn't scared of him. How could I be? He was all I had in this place.

Our eyes locked and the tension in his jaw eased. "You need to drink, Danni. Move closer."

Water. I closed my eyes and imagined holding a cool glass of water and chugging it back; the liquid sliding down my throat, coating the harsh dryness. I'd never thought about the daily bottles of water I'd consumed, but now . . . now it was all I thought about. "I'm not letting you die, damn it." His voice was harsh and abrupt and yet to me it was soothing.

Fearless. That's what he was. He never screamed when they tortured him, never broke. I wanted that. To be brave again. But _he_ had sucked it out of me.

I crawled across the metal floor and put my hands through the bars, cupping them together. I closed my eyes, afraid he wouldn't be able to reach me this time.

But when the cool saturation hit my skin, tears pooled in my eyes. Water trickled through the crevices between my fingers and I quickly jolted back, afraid to lose a single drop of what he offered.

I licked my palms, the wetness adhering to my throat—velvet.

I reached out again and this time opened my eyes. He collected the water from the shower head attached to the top of his cage. It was a light spray and it took agonizing minutes just to gather a small handful.

We repeated the process five times, until my arms resisted rising any longer. "Thank you," I whispered.

He sat and leaned up against the bars, leg bent and his arm resting on it; casual and indifferent and yet everything in his expression contradicted it. "Damn it, Danni, you need to lock your mind from your body. Shut it down like I told you." He sounded angry, but I knew it was because he was worried. "Separate the two. Don't let him win."

It was too late for that. He'd won the battle already.

"Danni."

I curled up on my side in a ball, my knees to my chin and my arms wrapped around them, trying to provide myself with some sort of warmth.

Then I closed my eyes and prayed for the darkness to take me.

I thought I heard him say something else, but I was already slipping into the void. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing did.

I drifted in and out of sleep, pain mixed with the terror of hearing the clanking of my cage being lowered. Numerous times, I jolted awake to cries of someone else being tortured.

"Little one." I woke to the deep male voice. "Wake up."

Chains rattled and my cage began to lower. _No. God, no._ How long had it been? Days, minutes, hours? I had no concept of time, just the realization that the monster was coming to get me.

"Danni." I slowly glanced over at him. He was standing with his hands gripping the bars, eyes hard and determined. "I'll get you out. I'll find a way, damn it."

"Not again . . ." I mumbled in a haze of shock.

"Jesus!" He hauled on the bars, his face tight with frustration. "Don't give him what he wants. Fuck, you can't give in, you have no idea what it will do to you," he said in a ragged voice.

"Balen." I whispered his name, but I couldn't see him anymore as my cage lowered until it settled on the floor. The door unlocked then jerked open. Cold hands gripped my forearms, dragging me across the dirt floor to the steel table. Clanging sounded, and then the harsh metal clamped around my ankles and wrists. I sucked in air as my abrasions rubbed against the restraints.

Then . . . the familiar sound of his footsteps.

My body started to shake as I recognized the stride—slow and precise. Then the smell of black licorice flooded the air and my throat constricted, reflexes making me dry heave.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I prayed to wake from the nightmare. To be back home in my apartment and bitching about doing the laundry. I'd do anything to open my eyes and have a room full of dirty clothes to wash.

The steps stopped and then his jagged nails dragged across my collarbone to my neck.

"Magnificent. Skin like a dove's. Soon you'll become my slave, eager to do as I please, and begging for my blood." His fingers pressed into the bruise on my throat. "And then he," he looked up at the cages, "will watch you become mine."

I jerked against the shackles, my eyes flying open as a flash of defiance reignited. "Fuck you."

He chuckled. "I wondered if I'd driven away that fierce spirit. Drink from me and this will end." He ran a nail across his wrist and blood rose to the surface. He held it inches away from my mouth. "Drink, Danielle."

I met his eyes, ignoring the lure that would end this. "It's Danni, asshole." It was all I had left, the last rebellion.

He gripped my chin and tilted my head to the side. "I'm very patient, _Danni._ "

I heard the familiar hiss and my body tensed, legs and wrists yanking on the restraints as a scream tore from my throat.

He chuckled at my struggle, his grip tightening on my chin.

It was then I heard his voice from above. That deep, strong voice that lived in hell with me.

"Ryszard. Stop. Jesus, I'll fuckin' do it." His voice sounded haggard—defeated.

The icy hands left my body.

I lay shaking, unable to decipher what was going on around me, except for Balen's comforting voice floating through my mind.

" _No more pain, little one. Never again. I swear to you. Never again."_

I STARED AT THE portrait of the man—eyes green, like a leaf that had consumed an abundance of rain. His chin sharp and angular, lips thick, and a nose with a slight notch on the bridge. He appeared arrogant, confident, and definitely proud. I'd painted his dark umber hair wet, drops of water clinging to the ends of the strands, which hung an inch below his ears. One drop rested on his cheek as if he were crying.

"Danni, you have to stop doing this," Anstice said. "It's not . . . damn it, it's not healthy."

It was my best one so far. I thought I really captured his pain this time. The outer corners of his eyes drooped and sadness penetrated as he stared directly at you from every direction. Alone and haunted, as if something horrific had happened to him—a tormented soul.

"This is it," I said, staring at my painting. I rubbed my arms, easing the familiar goose bumps that rose whenever I looked at him. "He's the one in my dreams."

My best friend sighed. "You said that the last time and the time before and the time before that. You've painted what . . . twenty, thirty portraits of this guy?"

I shrugged. Yeah, so what. I'd lost count. He lived in my dreams every night, driving me to paint him again and again. He was like a mosquito buzzing in my ear, and no matter what, I couldn't swat it away. The absurdity of it was that the damn mosquito had become a familiar friend.

I ran my finger across the canvas, touching his slightly parted lips. He was real. I'd known him, spoken to him at one time. I even knew the sound of his voice, a deep baritone with a hint of huskiness.

"He was there. And don't start with me, Anstice." I pointed at the painting. "This guy had something to do with my abduction." It was the way his eyes stared at me, telling me he felt my pain, knew what I'd been through. In my dreams, this beautiful man spoke to me, reached out with his hands and tried to save me from the black shadow who'd tortured me. I'd know if he'd been responsible, wouldn't I? I was drawn to him and felt a sense of calm whenever I looked at the portrait. Even if my memory was washed away, my body knew.

"Danni." Anstice placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "You have to stop this. It's making it worse."

Anstice hated my portraits. When she'd seen the first one two years ago, she'd looked sick to her stomach, her complexion fading to a translucent white and her eyes widening with horror. Ever since then, she avoided the paintings altogether. Her excuse was the man looked creepy and it freaked her out.

He was forbidding and harsh with those all-knowing eyes. But it was the fearless strength I saw in him that gave me the determination to tackle another day. Then again, he reminded me of the frustration of living with a black hole in my mind.

I'd never been one to sit quietly and take whatever life threw at me. Instead, I fought for what I wanted. And I wanted to know him. No, it was stronger than that. I had to know who he was like my lungs needed their next breath.

But it was tearing me apart. Every time I looked at him, another piece of me broke off.

I shrugged off Anstice's hand and strode to the front door. "I have to remember, damn it." I flipped the Open sign to Closed and locked the door to my art gallery, which I'd aptly named Danielle's. "You have no idea what it's like waking up in the middle of night freezing cold, feeling like clammy hands are on my body and then there is the water dripping . . . constantly waking to the tap dripping, but it's not. I know it's not because I check, damn it. And I keep checking." I kicked an unopened box of art supplies. "I can't even go on a date anymore without the fear it's my abductor coming back for me."

"It takes time." Anstice's voice was soft, and when I glanced at her, I saw tears in her eyes.

"Time? Are you kidding me? It's been two years, damn it. I live like a hermit. Me. The free spirit with a tattoo on her butt. I don't like men touching me. Black licorice makes me sick to my stomach, but before the abduction, I ate it by the truckload. I hate any sort of confinement and . . ." I stormed over to the portrait. "And I hate you!" I punched my fist through the middle of the canvas.

Anstice gasped.

I threw the ruined painting across the room. It landed face up on the floor, vivid green eyes watching me with an omniscient look as though the bastard knew I was all screwed up.

I gave a loud, frustrated grunt and stomped over to the cans of paint and picked one up. I carried it over to the canvas, opened the lid, tilted my hand and let the bright red paint slip over the lip to land on top of the eyes. "There. Now stay the fuck out of my head."

The back door opened, then slammed shut against the cold wind.

I looked up and saw Keir. He was the type of guy you noticed, shit, when he walked in a room it was as if it became his. He nodded to me then looked at the destroyed canvas. His square jaw tightened and dark brows lowered over his eyes. He didn't say anything though as he went and put his arm around Anstice's waist, drawing her in close to his side.

I carried the can of paint over to the closet, threw open the doors and began yanking out every portrait of the man. I kicked my foot through each one and then poured paint over the haunting eyes.

I had to get this guy out of my head before he ruined my life. All I did was think about him, dream about him, and wonder if he existed. Shit, I'd even done hypnosis to try to erase him from my mind, but all it managed to do was intensify my awareness of him.

I dribbled the last of the bright red paint on the final canvas before letting the can slip from my hand. It bounced off the walnut hardwood floor and rolled on its side to settle beneath an easel. I looked around at the paint puddled on the floor and the numerous damaged canvases. Countless hours of work wrecked in minutes.

A giggle escaped and then another and another until I was laughing hysterically. I laughed until my shoulders and stomach ached. It felt good to laugh again, even though it wasn't because I found this funny. Rather, it was just the opposite.

God, I was losing it. I'd end up like my father after all, sitting alone in the darkness, unable to decipher what was real.

"You'll stay at our place tonight," Keir said.

Anstice nodded. "You shouldn't be alone."

I stopped laughing. What had I done? I''d turned every single portrait into what looked like a bloodbath of insanity. I tapped my forehead with the heel of my hand. "I . . . guys, thanks, but it looks like I have a little cleaning up to do before I open tomorrow. Wouldn't want clients to think I'd lost it or anything." Maybe I'd killed the pesky mosquito. It was time to let go of this and start living again.

Keir's tone was firm and unbending. "I insist."

"Oh, pull that insisting crap on someone else, Keir. It doesn't work with me." I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

I liked Keir, but the man had a thing for being in control. If I were Anstice, I'd have punched him in the jaw a few times and threatened to leave him if he continued to insist or demand. But she did usually get her own way. When Anstice's temper flared, and she was a redhead, Keir procured this little smirk and he'd back down. It was kind of cute, considering there was nothing cute about Keir and his over six-foot mass of tatted muscles.

"I had a freak out. I'm entitled."

"We'll help you clean up," Anstice said.

I shook my head and the pencil slipped from my hair. My almond locks fell to swirl around my shoulders. I picked up the pencil and twirled my hair around it again. "No, I'm good. I need some time alone. I just destroyed my favorite paintings and dumped red paint all over my gallery floor." Keir opened his mouth and I shot him a glare. "Don't say another word, Keir. I like you—most of the time—but I'll kick your ass if need be."

Anstice smiled, no doubt laughing at the absurd idea. "Call me tomorrow, okay? And dinner is still happening." Anstice hesitated, glancing at Keir as if they were mentally communicating. It pissed me off when they did that, so bloody connected together that they knew what the other wanted to say without actual words. "We want you to meet someone. A good friend."

I stopped mid-bend to pick up a canvas, but straightened and looked at her. "Blind date me, and I call off our friendship."

"No, no. It's not like that. Waleron just might be someone you can . . . talk to."

"A head doctor? You want me to see a head doctor again?" I cursed under my breath several times. Doctors had done shit for my father, and right after my abduction, I'd seen a therapist in the hospital. All I managed to get out of therapy were more questions as to what happened to me.

"He's not a psychiatrist," Anstice said. "He's just someone who might be able to help with what you're going through." Anstice raised her chin. "I'm not taking no for an answer this time. You never go out anymore. All you do is work and sit here hibernating. So Saturday after you close, I expect to see you at our place."

If I refused, she'd be over here every night until I agreed, and that wasn't happening. Space and solitude had become my two best friends.

"Fine, I'll come. But tell the boys to take a hike. They pissed me off the last time."

"Jedrik's flirting is harmless. And he likes you," Anstice said.

"Yeah, well, tell him to take his charming ass out the door or I'll do it for him." The last time I'd gone for dinner, the thirty-something boys—and Hack and Jedrik were boys considering they bantered back and forth like a couple of ten-year-olds—had fought over who could get me to go on a date with them. They'd actually made a hundred dollar bet. I still couldn't figure out why they even lived there with Anstice and Keir. It wasn't like Keir needed the rent money. Hell, they lived in a mansion in the richest part of the city.

"I'll deal with it," Keir said, then put his hand on the small of Anstice's back and headed for the door.

Even though I was happy Anstice had found the love of her life, it also brought with it a barrier between us. We'd grown up together, friends from the first moment we'd met in the playground in second grade. Anstice had been crying over an injured bird and some boys in the fifth grade were teasing her. I walked up to the little instigator, who was doing most of the egging on, and slugged him in the jaw. He fell flat on his ass and began crying. Anstice and I had been friends ever since.

But something had changed since the 'episode'—that was how we referred to my abduction. Anstice was leery, refused to talk about what had happened, and seemed withdrawn. Something had changed.

Mostly, I felt disappointed with myself. I'd always been free-spirited. Now I felt trapped. The funny thing was, I didn't even recall the days I'd been held in captivity. The doctors said it was normal, a way to protect my mind from something so traumatic. But my mind was snowed under with flashes of sounds and scents that reminded me of the horror I'd survived.

Goose bumps rose and I ran my hands up and down my arms. I was always cold now. It was this bizarre feeling, as if I'd been in sub-zero temperatures, constantly shivering, and my body unable to get warm.

It had been two years since I'd been intimate with anyone. No wild sexual encounters, no erotic flings, no dating. And I certainly didn't do relationships. The reminder of my father's brains splattered all over his mahogany desk was vivid enough to end any attachment before it ever got to the point of more than a fling.

I'd always been pretty bold about approaching a guy I found attractive, whether in a grocery store, pub, park, or the bank. If I thought a guy was cute, I asked him out.

Rejection came with the territory, but it never bothered me. Now, if I saw a guy I was attracted to, I walked the other way. Inside, I was a tornado of emotions—tearing, pushing and pulling in every direction. I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with me.

After I was released from the hospital, I began obsessing over the man in my paintings. It was as if he was begging me to discover who he was. I thought painting him would get him out of my system—instead, it intensified the urgency to paint him again and again. Desperation was strongest after the sun set, keeping me awake to stare at his portrait hanging over my bed. Some nights, I sat on the end of my bed cross-legged, staring at him as if waiting for him to say something.

Crazy. Shit, that's what I was. Bat-shit crazy.

I grabbed a new canvas from my closet and propped it up on my easel. I pressed play on my stereo and Hinder's "Lips of An Angel" blasted. Pulling the pencil from my hair, I began sketching. My hand moved with precision, knowing what it was drawing, having done it repeatedly. I ignored the red paint drying on the floor, the ruined canvases, and the promise to stop thinking of him. The buzzing in my head began singing its familiar song.

THIS SUCKED. I DIDN'T want to go, yet here I was tugging on my faded, button-up jeans. The day I arrived home from the hospital, I'd thrown out all my zippered jeans because, for some unknown reason, after the abduction, the sound of zippers freaked me out. I sifted through a pile of clothes on the floor and found a clean, chocolate-colored turtleneck that didn't have any paint splatters.

Socks I lacked—period. I preferred bare feet even in winter. It had something to do with smothering my feet; a childhood thing I never outgrew. My mom used to say it was because I was a little angel—part of the earth—and I liked to feel it between my toes. She never made me wear shoes until I went to kindergarten and the teacher called complaining it was unsanitary for a child to be running around with no shoes and socks. My mom had ranted about someone trying to tell her how to raise her child, but finally caved only because the school refused to let me come back until the rules were conformed to.

I grabbed a pair of shoes from the closet and sat on the edge of the bed to put them on.

"Can you believe this?"

Splat, my obese, orange tabby cat, who found it hilarious to unravel my toilet roll, stretched and yawned beside me. "I'm being set up. I know it. And you get to lie sprawled out without a care in the world." Splat meowed. "Sorry, you care about when you get your next meal." He pawed at the mess of clothes on my bed.

I went to my dresser and shifted aside the books piled there. "Where the hell did I put my keys? Splat, if you were playing with them, I'll take away your treats."

Splat rolled over on his back and stretched out his short, stubby legs. He rubbed his head on my pillow and began purring.

I found them in my coat pocket, along with a crumpled pack of watermelon gum. I grabbed my cell off the bed, glancing at the time. Shit, I was going to be late. Despite my life being uprooted, I was still punctual.

I walked down to the parking garage and got in my red Mini Cooper S. I took the side streets, zipping in and out of traffic, between cars whose discourteous drivers decided to pull over wherever they damn well felt like it, thinking hazard lights meant you could do anything you wanted.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up to the iron gates on Post Street. Massive trees hid the house in the summer, but now in November after the leaves had fallen, you could catch a glimpse of it. It emanated coolness with gray stone encasing three stories. The property was surrounded by an eight-foot wall and an alarm system that would test any burglar.

I had yet to find out how Keir afforded the place. Anstice didn't work anymore, and considering she had studied for six years at the University of Guelph to become a veterinarian, it was strange. Anstice's dream had always been to practice veterinary medicine, until Keir came into the picture.

I pressed the button on the intercom, and before I could say anything into the black box, the gates opened.

I glanced at the clock on the console—two minutes late, not bad.

I got out of the car, shut the door, and took two steps before it hit me. My breath hitched and I staggered back against the car as my heart thumped wildly. Goose bumps rose on my skin, and I wrapped my arms around myself as if I needed . . . something.

The cold wind blew an intense gust, sifting through my hair as my eyes darted from side to side. It felt . . . it felt as if someone had run their fingers across my skin.

"Danni, you coming?" Anstice stood on the porch with the door wide open.

"Umm, yeah." I took one last look around, seeing nothing but tree branches swaying in the breeze. "Just locking the door. Never know what crazies live in this slummy neighborhood."

Anstice laughed.

I walked up to the door, my flesh still tingling. Maybe I'd give this Waleron guy a chance.

"You're a dick, you know that?" I said to Jedrik who leaned against the wall in the living room, looking his typical cocky self with ankles crossed and wearing a smirk. I glared at Keir. "You promised this smug ass wouldn't be here."

Jedrik's blond curls danced around his handsome face, dimples rarely absent from his cheeks, charm working at full tilt. According to rumor, his interests involved slipping between a woman's legs and one-night stands.

Anstice passed me a glass of red wine. "Waleron cancelled about an hour ago. Jedrik overheard and, despite Keir's threats, he changed his plans and decided to stay in for the evening. But Hack went out." Anstice gave me an 'I am soooo sorry look.'

Fuck, I hated being the object of some ongoing bet, and Jedrik was the type to never lose. Well, he was losing this one.

Jedrik didn't appear to take offense to the insult, rather the opposite. His boyish grin widened and I had to admit, two years ago, I'd have been on the guy like a badger. Player or not, Jedrik was one inked up hottie. Although, he acted more like a one-night stander rather than a flinger, which I defined as a sweet few months of hot sex.

After a couple drinks we had dinner, an exasperating experience considering Jedrik sat across the table from me and every so often offered to let me try what he was eating . . . as if we had different meals. When his mashed potatoes fell off his fork into his wine because he was fooling around, I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to stop from laughing. I had to give the guy credit, he never became embarrassed. His chuckle was contagious, and after several more glasses of wine, I found myself relaxing.

It was close to midnight when Anstice and Keir headed to bed. "Guest room is done up for you," Keir said.

"Thanks. I've drunk enough to blow the needle right off a Breathalyzer."

Anstice gave me a hug. "Night." She lowered her voice. "It's good to see you laugh. You look better."

Probably due to my flushed cheeks because of all the wine I drank, but I did feel better. It had been a long time since I spent an evening with friends, eating, drinking, and laughing. I was lucky to have them; even Jedrik—who was presently refilling my wine—had won me over. But he still wouldn't be winning any bet.

He passed me the glass and sat on the chair across from the couch I was lounging on. I pulled off my shoes and tucked my legs beneath me.

Jedrik raised his glass. "To laughter."

We clinked glasses then sipped our wine. It was comforting sitting with him, no thoughts of tomorrow or yesterday, just enjoying the now. It was the first time since my abduction that I felt as if I could relax and breathe. That my past was swept away—I just wish I could keep it there.

"The past is past. It may be the reason why we've become who we are today, but we can change our tomorrow. Another past is seconds away," Jedrik said.

"Wow, a philosopher and a charmer. What a mix." How had he known what I was thinking?

Jedrik chuckled. "Chicks like it. And I love chicks. Beautiful, sexy, enticing, and when they melt in my arms—"

"You mean when you fuck them."

Jedrik threw his head back, laughing. "Yeah, that too."

"Well, don't expect me to be one of them. I might be tipsy, but I'm not obliterated enough to fall for your charm."

"I know," Jedrik said, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating. "I just want you to know that if you ever need to—"

"Get back in the saddle, you'd be happy to oblige?" Damn him. Just when I was starting to like him, he had to go throw sex into the deal.

I stood.

Jedrik put his glass down and rose, grabbing my hand before I could walk off. "No, that's not what I was going to say. I'm saying if you ever need to talk or just hang out, you know, go to the pub and have a few drinks, shoot a little pool, well, I'm up for it. No sex. Just friends."

"And the bet?"

"Screw the bet, Danni."

I slipped my hand from his grasp, eyes narrowing. "Why? Because you feel sorry for me? Because I can't get over what happened? Because I continually paint the same damn guy over and over again? Or maybe because—"

Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me into his arms and tears slid down my cheeks. Sobs racked my body, uncontrollable pain and hurt storming through me.

Jedrik held me, his hands soothing as he rubbed them up and down my back. After a couple minutes, I calmed down to a respectable sobbing. I never cried in front of others. It was a weakness my father had displayed continually after my mother died.

Jedrik drew back and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I lost my best friend, Delara. She just up and left one night a while back. You remind me of her. She's stubborn, determined and man, she can kick a guy's ass, but beneath that . . . she's hurting. " He dropped his hand from my chin. "I thought if we hung out, maybe I wouldn't miss her so much."

"Oh."

He wiped my tears away with the pad of his thumb. "So what do you think? Tuesday night, pool, beer, and wings at the Rivilie? Eight o'clock."

I nodded. "Fine. But you're buying."

I paced back and forth along the shadowed tree line. Every muscle strung tight, heart pounding, fists clenched. Fuck, I hated this. I hated being near her and unable to touch her.

My enhanced tracking ability allowed me to scent her movements through the house, even when walls impaired my vision. I felt her uneasiness in the beginning of the evening and wanted to crash through the fuckin' door and get her the hell out of there. But I kept my shit together. I had to if I didn't want Jedrik and Keir coming after me. And that wouldn't be fuckin' pretty.

I scented her move into the living room and positioned myself so I could see her through the bay window. I felt the low rumble in my chest when Jedrik's arms wrapped around her. Fury whirled. Rage churned. The branch I held onto snapped and I flung it aside so hard it hit a garden statue and cracked it.

_Fuck this._ I approached the house, ready to jump through the window if I had to, when I saw her shoulders shaking and tears staining her cheeks.

I slunk down behind the row of bushes and put my head in my hands. _Jesus, Danni._

I was taking a chance being here. Fuck, being anywhere near Danni. But, it was a driving force inside me that I couldn't control ever since I came back to Toronto.

Two years I stayed away, fighting the toxic vampire blood inside me that threatened to take my existence. Finally, I'd done what no other Scar had managed . . . I overpowered the tainted blood I'd consumed. Not that it mattered. According to our laws, I was to be killed for drinking vampire blood.

But there was no way in hell I was going to face the executioner before I saw Danni again.

I'd seen the painting above her bed, the portrait of me, and she'd captured my eyes perfectly. What bothered me was that my hair was wet in the painting like it had been when we were trapped in the cages. That meant she remembered something from that night, which wasn't supposed to happen. Waleron, our Taldeburu, had erased her memories of the incident in order to protect the Scars from being discovered by humans.

The air suddenly shifted and I focused my tracking ability, catching the scent of Keir's quick movement through the house.

_Fuck._ I had to get out of here before some ass was kicked, most likely mine, considering Keir and Jedrik together had the advantage.

I briefly glanced again at Danni then disappeared into the darkness.

JEDRIK'S ARM HOOKED AROUND my waist as he yanked me away from the living room window. He pulled me through the house then shoved me back against the wall in the foyer, arm locking across my chest like a safety bar on a roller coaster.

Keir and Anstice came running down the stairs.

The familiar fear of being trapped skipped across my skin and I shoved at Jedrik's chest. "Jedrik, let go, damn it."

He lowered his arm, but his eyes were narrowed and fierce, the playfulness gone. "Don't move."

I didn't hear words pass between the two men, but it was as if they'd spoken when Jedrik gave Keir an abrupt nod, then ran out the front door. Keir took off through the living room into the kitchen and out the back door.

"What the hell's going on?" I rubbed my temple, trying to clear my mind from the fog of too many glasses of wine.

Anstice shifted while staring down at her feet. "The . . . alarm." I didn't hear any alarm. "A silent alarm. The boys are checking it out. I'm sure it's nothing."

I noticed her hands intertwined in a rigid grip. "Don't bullshit me, Anstice. What's going on?"

Anstice bit her lower lip and wouldn't meet my eyes. "It's nothing. Keir's just being overprotective."

"Yeah, no shit, he always is, but that's not what this is." Anstice remained silent. "Fine, you're not going to tell me . . . then I'll find out for myself." I strode to the front door, knowing full well Anstice would stop me before I opened it. We'd been best friends a long time and predicting one other's actions was second nature.

"Danni." Anstice stepped forward, grabbed my hand and pulled me to a stop. "I . . . I can't tell you. God, I want to. Please, you have to trust me."

I gaped. "What the hell are you talking about? It's me. Pinkie swears, remember? We've never had secrets from one another in our entire lives." I yanked away from her. "Tell me."

Anstice closed her eyes and, when she opened them again, I saw the tears in the rims. Shit, it was bad. Whatever she was hiding was big. Maybe Anstice had a stalker? Her ex-boyfriend, Richard? No, Richard was a coward. He wouldn't be caught dead lurking around in the night; he'd send someone else to do his dirty work. Besides, he'd ruin his Armani suit.

"Anstice?"

The front door opened and Jedrik and Keir came in and stopped. God, why hadn't I ever noticed how scary they looked? Tatted, muscled, tall, and definitely overbearing. They both appeared as if they could take down a swat team without even breathing hard.

Intimidating or not, I wanted answers. "What's going on? Who's outside?"

Keir's scowl was like a feral wolf ready to pounce on its prey. I unconsciously took a step back, but kept my eyes fixated on him.

"A guy from my past has returned recently to the area," Keir said. "He's wanted by . . . police."

"I knew it. You're involved with drugs." That was how he afforded this place. And the bastard was dragging Anstice down with him— _over my dead body._

It took me two steps to reach Keir's unmovable six-foot-four stature. I raised my fist, intent on popping him one right between his eyes. How dare he put my friend's life at risk with shit like this.

My fist never made contact as Jedrik grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the stairs. "It's not drugs, princess. Just some guy pissed at Keir."

I tried to pull out of his shackled grip as he continued talking, but my mind had already shut him out. I remembered the steel clamped around my wrists, being unable to move—strapped to a—

The dead bolt clicked closed on the front door. I wrenched free of Jedrik and stumbled backward.

Manacles.

Click.

My wrists.

Click.

My ankles.

Click.

Oh, God, I'd been tied down. A table. _Cold. So cold._ I rubbed my wrists where the scars were still visible.

"Whoa, you okay, sugar?" Jedrik asked, coming toward me.

_Sugar._ That word. He'd called me that.

Bile rose as I continued to back away, arms outstretched to ward off Jedrik. I banged into the front door and felt behind me for the deadbolt. I cringed as it clicked again.

Anstice took a step toward me, but Keir pulled her back to his side.

I had to get the hell out of here. "I can't . . . I have to . . . I can't . . . breathe." I turned and threw open the front door.

The fresh air cut into me like a bucket of ice water. I took three deep breaths before darting out into the frigid air.

I heard footsteps behind me and raced down the steps to my car. I tugged on the door handle, but it didn't budge. It wouldn't open. _Christ, get me out of here._ I used both hands, hauling on it.

"Shit." I slammed my fist down on the roof.

The sound pulsated over and over, the click as it snapped around each wrist, each ankle. I'd been cold. Freezing. My back aching, spine digging into the table as a . . . God, why couldn't I remember?

"I'm sober. I'll drive you," Jedrik said, coming up behind me, passing me my shoes.

I glanced down at my feet and realized I was standing barefoot in the light dusting of snow. I took the shoes and slipped them on.

"Always wanted to give a Mini Cooper a whirl. Dying to do the _Italian Job_ thing." He placed my coat around my shoulders, then walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.

"I . . . I . . . umm, yeah, that'd be good." I gripped the edges of my coat closer to my body as I walked around the car and slid into the bucket seat.

We remained silent for the first five minutes with just the purr of the engine as Jedrik shifted gears. The panic eased and the puzzling memories drifted back into the black void of my mind.

"So, you ever do anything fun with this car?" Jedrik asked.

I stared out the windshield. "I drove through a park once to get out of a traffic jam."

Jedrik's brows rose. "Impressive."

Silence.

I knew Jedrik was trying to give me space to catch my breath and I was realizing the guy wasn't always a dick. His outward I-am-God's-gift-to-women was a game, maybe it was his way to get attention?

"Thank you. For driving me. I'll give you money for a cab, or just take my car. I'll pick it up tomorrow."

"Think I'll steal your car. It rocks." Jedrik flashed a dazzling grin.

I smiled. "You're an okay guy despite the annoying habit of sharing food across the table."

"Too forward?" Jedrik grinned.

"Disgusting when you're talking mashed potatoes. Stick to desserts."

Jedrik chuckled. "Advice taken." He turned down Bathurst Street and shifted into third gear. "Wanna talk about it?"

Did I? Maybe I needed to talk to someone about the flashes of memories. Someone like Jedrik, who was . . . easygoing. Anstice avoided the subject as if it was a disease, and the therapist had been way too intense for me.

"Manacles, maybe handcuffs, I don't know which. I remember the sound of them clicking closed." I rubbed my wrists. "Certain sounds or smells give me flashes. Like clips of a movie . . . I feel like I'm back there again." I put my hand on my throat. "I had puncture marks on my neck, but the doctors don't know what caused them. You know, sometimes I thank God I can't remember exactly what happened." I paused, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. "But I think it's worse. How can I get over something when I don't know what that something is? Doctors, nurses, the police . . . they're all guessing, but the guy has never been caught and I can't remember shit. It's frustrating." I sighed, briefly closing my eyes. "It's like a blanket is smothering me all the time until a memory flashes. Then the blanket is whipped off and I'm wrapped in fear. I think the only way to get over this is to remember."

He shifted into second gear; the corners of his lips pursed together. He pulled up in front of my art gallery on Queen Street and put on the parking brake before turning toward me. "I won't try to give advice that's a bunch of bullshit. But I'm a first-rate listener and damn good at being there when you need someone. Maybe that's what you need. Just someone to vent to." He smirked. "And I'm one hot guy to hang with."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't be modest or anything." He shrugged. "Try to keep my car on all fours. I've already had three speeding tickets this year."

I went to get out of the car when Jedrik snagged my sleeve. "Hey, you need company tonight? I like the couch."

"No. But thanks. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I'll be out like a light."

"So Tuesday? Pool, beer, and wings?" Jedrik called out before I slammed the door.

"Yeah, sure."

Jedrik waited until I was inside before he drove away. I closed and locked the door, then tossed my jacket and purse on the hook.

Solitude. No sounds. No smells.

I pressed my fingers to my temple as a wave of pain hit my head. Nice. Another night of debilitating throbbing. Headaches were a common occurrence after a flashback and Advil had become my best friend.

"Little one."

My stomach dropped as the familiar voice broke through the quiet. God, that sounded real. Now I was dreaming while awake.

I slid down the length of the door until my butt hit the floor and pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I was officially going crazy and needed medication—lots of it.

"Jesus, Danni."

"Holy shit." That was real. I know it was. I raised my head, eyes scanning the darkened gallery. Someone was here. _He_ was here. He said my name.

I scrambled to my feet and slid my arm along the wall searching for the light switch while I kept my gaze fixed forward to where the voice came from.

I sensed him, heard him breathe in and out, tasted his scent on the tip of my tongue—earth.

But nothing prepared me for the shadow moving across the room. Paralysis was possible when completely freaked out and my legs refused to listen to my mind telling me to run like hell.

Steady footsteps strode across the hardwood floor. He was still hidden by the darkness of the gallery, but I knew it was him. The guy with the eyes that drooped in the corners, lashes curving upward at the tips to give the impression of gentleness. The green surrounding the black pupil bold and bright, a mixture of lime and the greenest leaves in the middle of the rainforest.

If I closed my eyes, I could see inside them, the haunting rage and sorrow churning together to emit an unrestrained expression. He existed inside me, a part of the blood that rushed like a river through every vein, every vessel.

He stepped into the moonlight that glistened through the front window. I gasped as those vivid green eyes penetrated me with intensity. My heart skipped a beat and then . . . then it was an overwhelming relief that draped across my mind. It was a comfort I hadn't experienced in two years.

My arm dropped to my side, lights forgotten, as I stared at the man from my paintings. He stopped a few steps in front of me, his over six-foot height and broad muscled shoulders like a barricade preventing me from any thought of escape. But I wouldn't escape. No, I'd been desperate for answers about this man for two long, tortured years.

"Who are you?" I licked my lips to moisten the dryness and his eyes followed the movement.

My insides coiled like a jack-in-the-box ready to spring free with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness, uncertain whether he was going to leap on me and shred me to bits, or take me in his arms and soothe away all the hurt with a single touch. I prayed for the latter, but I doubted this guy had any sweetness in his mind right now. His eyes were hard and unyielding yet . . . yet there was a hint of haunted anguish.

My hands ached to reach forward and stroke every crevice on his face, then sift through his hair and touch the dark walnut strands. I inhaled and his earthly scent caused tremors to sprint across my skin.

Hair? Dry hair? No, it should be wet. I always painted him with wet hair, and yet tonight, it was dry.

"No, this is wrong." I shook my head back and forth. I was going crazy; he wasn't standing in front of me. I had to be imagining him. Holy crap, they'd put me in an insane asylum if I ever told anyone I'd seen the man in my paintings.

"Danni." His husky voice sent a shot of electricity through my body.

"You know my name." My nickname.

"Yeah," he whispered in a ragged tone.

Oh, God, it felt as if he'd just run his hands over me and my body quivered with desire. I had to pull my shit together. "Tell me why I know you."

His eyelids closed over his beautiful, magnetic eyes and his brows drew over them. With his lips pulled together in a tight line, he looked like he was scowling, yet I felt sorrow emanating from him.

His head lowered and he turned away, but not before I caught sight of one glistening tear as it escaped and slid down his cheek.

My heart broke into tiny fragments, a crushing pain so controlling I had no choice but to touch him. I reached out, fingers curling into his coat. My breath hitched as heat shot through me, warmth surging and causing my cheeks to burn. It was strange, as if the encompassing warmth made me feel . . . safe.

"Not a good idea to touch me," he said, but he remained still.

I didn't let go. I needed from him what no one else could give me. "Please. Tell me."

I was afraid he'd walk away, leave me again like he'd done before. Even if I had no recollection of the memory, I knew he'd left me. But whether it was my choice or his, I had no idea.

He swung around in one fluid motion, his arm hooking my waist and dragging me up against him. My breath hitched as he stared at me, one hand splayed across my lower back, the other reaching up to cup my chin and tilt my head up to meet his eyes.

"I've tried, Danni. Fuck, I've tried to stay away." His voice was torn and uneven. "But I had to see you before . . ." He nodded to my easel with the painting of him. "This shit . . . damn it, you have to stop. You have to forget me."

My mind screamed _no,_ because I'd never forget him. I didn't know who he was or why he was here. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome and he'd been the one to abduct me.

His voice changed to a rough growl. "Fuck, no, I'd never hurt you."

Had I said that out loud? Shit, I was losing it. The man from my painting I'd been obsessing over was standing in my gallery and could hear my thoughts. Maybe I was passed out from all the wine and this was a dream.

His thumb stroked across the cleft in my chin as if it was natural and he was unaware he was doing it at all. My abdomen tightened and my knees weakened as I reached up to touch his face. I wasn't scared of him. Regardless of what may have happened, this man was my safe place.

Wetness clung to his cheekbone and I had the urge to kiss it, sweep my tongue across his skin and taste him. _Why?_ Why was this man driving me insane with these emotions? What had happened between us two years ago?

His head lowered, his gaze delving into mine. "I can't stop this."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I did know that I wanted him. "Kiss me." It was a hint of a ragged whisper, but I knew he heard it by the way his hand at the small of my back pressed into me harder. God, I wanted him to kiss me. Touch me. Make me feel alive again. The realization I desired a guy hit me like a tidal wave crashing against rocks.

This man.

It was him.

He was the key and, yes, the lock. Because he could lock me to him just with his eyes.

He pulled me closer so I was snug against his broad chest. I felt his heart skip a beat and then take on the same rhythm as my own.

I tilted my head back and looked up at him.

Our eyes clashed, and then his mouth slammed down on mine.

UNCONTROLLED. THAT WAS HOW I felt with this woman.

I'd denied it for two fuckin' horrible years, but having her in my arms . . . Jesus, the need to have her was like an inferno that was impossible to extinguish. It was so overpowering that it was unnatural. It wasn't normal, and yet, at this moment, nothing mattered except kissing her.

Her lips plied easily beneath my demanding assault, opening to my tongue as I tasted what was mine. Her. This woman. I wanted to say fuck them all and take her away. Run.

But that wasn't the answer. They'd eventually hunt me down and I'd never risk her getting hurt.

I'd tried, since the day I walked away, to forget her eyes, those fierce, resolute, cinnamon eyes that had turned into ones of torment. Every time I closed my own, I pictured her; this free spirit who'd once soared with the birds but now was ensnared in a deadly trap of her abduction. I needed to free her.

She parted my coat and laid her palms on my chest. My cock jerked and I groaned. I wanted to strip her naked and fuck her hard against the wall until she screamed my name. But that could never happen. I was dangerous; shit, I shouldn't even be here.

Her tongue boldly swept into my mouth, and my insides erupted with an unrestrained possession. My hand pushed on the small of her back, needing to feel her tighter against me; it was never going to be enough, as if I were drowning, sucked into an abyss.

Without this woman, I was nothing.

Any common sense blew up like a stick of dynamite the moment he pulled me into his arms. His hard, demanding mouth, made my senses overflow with him, the touch of his velvet tongue, the feel of his heartbeat beneath my palm, the urgency as he crushed me to him. It was an assault driven by a powerful need.

His kiss moved down my chin to the arch of my neck and I tilted my head back, eyes closed, afraid to open them and discover this was all a dream. A wine-induced dream.

"Danni," he whispered against my ear. His tongue flicked across the lobe, sending shots of desire between my legs.

Not wine-induced. It was real. He was real.

His hands gripped me on either side of the neck and his lips trailed slow warmth down the column of my throat, tongue darting out to lick and kiss my skin. I moaned as heat swept across my sensitive flesh.

It was the slightest graze of his teeth, a nip on my throat that caused the flash of horror to come barreling into me like a punch to the stomach. I cried out, scrambling from his embrace, hand pressed to my neck as the memory hit me. I staggered backward, lost my balance and crashed to the floor on my butt.

He came toward me, hand outstretched, eyes narrowed with a scowl on his face. I scuttled backward on my ass until my back hit the door. "No, don't."

He stopped, arm lowering. The hurt that swept across his features was unmistakable. His eyes closed for an extended second, and the outer corners of his lips pulled downward.

"That shouldn't have happened." His fingertips dragged through his hair. "Fuck. This was a bad idea."

My mind was a messed up confusion of colors as the feelings of now and then meshed together in a puzzle that refused to fit together. But I didn't want him to leave—he couldn't leave me again.

Please, end my pain.

His eyes flashed a deeper green for a split second and I saw the rage flare in his lethal expression before he abruptly turned on his heel.

He was walking away. Leaving. No, he couldn't do that to me.

"Don't you dare leave me," I shouted as I scrambled to my feet. "Don't you do this to me, damn it." I ran after him, but he kept walking until I flung myself at his back, slamming my fists into him, pounding his muscles as tears of frustration ran down my cheeks. "Two years. Two years I've waited for you."

His spine stiffened and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, taking my attack without any attempt at preventing me. I punched him again and again, wanting to hurt him the way I was hurting inside, yet wanting him to turn around and take me in his arms and hold me.

"Why did you come? To torment me?" My voice came out ragged. "I'm already tormented. I breathe it." My hands stilled on his back. "But you can take it away, can't you? You know what happened."

I heard him swear beneath his breath. My tears stopped, yet inside I continued to cry, for me, for him—for us.

We'd both suffered. I knew this like I knew my own name. He'd protected me. That was how I felt whenever I looked at his picture—protected, sheltered in his embrace as if he'd done something to end the suffering.

"You have to forget me, Danni. Let it go."

"No. I can't. Tell me," I begged. I don't think I'd ever begged in my life until now. It broke me . . . and yet wasn't I already broken? "What happened to us?"

"We can't do this. You're better off forgetting."

My spine stiffened and my hands slid from his back. "Don't you dare tell me what I'm better off forgetting. You came here. Why?"

He didn't say anything.

"Look at me." I grabbed the back of his coat and tried to force him to turn around. "Damn it, look at me." A memory hit me of his voice saying those same words and I froze.

He took advantage and with one yank he was free and striding to the back door. I saw him hesitate, hand on the door knob, and I held my breath hoping he'd come back. Then he flung it open and disappeared.

I watched him leave, my body shuddering as the back door slammed and the uneasiness crept into me once more. It was as if this veil had been lifted while he was with me. Then it fell again and I was immersed in my own private hell.

I kicked out at the legs of an easel and it crashed to the floor. Then I screamed at the top of my lungs.

I leaned up against the door, hung my head, and ran my hands through my hair. "Fuck."

I stiffened when I heard the crash and then her scream. I wanted to bolt back inside and pull her into my arms and never let go.

Fuck, this was one hell of a mess.

But walking away had been my only option. If I told her what had happened, that I was a Scar, her life would be in jeopardy. What I'd intended was for her to see me and know I was real and not a figment of her imagination, to get her to stop tormenting herself with the paintings.

It was all fucked up. Me. Her. This.

The past two years had been hell fighting the poisonous blood that ran through my veins. Any Scar knew what a vampire's tainted blood did to you—destroyed your virtue and made your thirst for blood so strong you'd do anything to relieve the agony. Kill anyone to get it. That made it pretty damn important never to drink the shit in the first place.

Most vampires were soulless bastards who had no qualms about killing. Actually, they had no qualms about doing anything. Living with the constant thirst for blood made them a threat to humans, and it was the Scars job to make certain that didn't happen. But that wasn't the only war the Scars had to fight. New CWOs, Center World Others, were constantly rising from beneath the ground, and they were just as deadly. During my years of running, I'd run across lots of the assholes, and like the bugs they descended from, they were relentless pests.

I'd nearly surrendered to the vampire blood a few times. It was the memory of Danni that kept me sane. Her strength. Her voice. Scent. God, it was everything about her.

I'd been running from the Scars, from Waleron—my Taldeburu—from Danni. Shit, from everything I'd ever known.

And my own kind were not easy to hide from since every Scar had one of nature's gifts from the five distinct senses. I'd only managed to avoid capture because I was a Tracker. I could scent another Scar miles away, which always gave me a head start. I also excelled at covering my tracks and hiding my scent.

I'd managed to avoid them by constantly moving, keeping to areas that were concrete and laden with humans. And never did I stay in one place longer than two days.

Now I'd fucked up everything by seeing her. Keir and Jedrik knew I was back, and that meant Waleron would be notified. It wouldn't be long before they found me.

I deserved death for my betrayal. But this was my chance to prove to the Deaconry that Scars could fight off the vampire blood after consuming it. Death wasn't the only choice for us.

Admitting I'd returned for more than that was a harsh reality to face. My return to Toronto was for Danni. I knew from the day I had to leave her that it would be impossible to stay away. Even if it were from a distance, I had to make certain she was protected from the reality of the world she walked in.

I'd hoped when I returned to Toronto, I'd see the fight in Danni's eyes. The same fight I'd witnessed that first day I met her in hell. But what I saw ripped my insides to pieces. The paintings of me . . . I'd fucked up my hand from punching the brick wall the first time I saw the one above her bed.

Revealing the Scars to her would seal my fate—instant death. No human could have knowledge of the immortal Scars unless Waleron approved. That was unlikely, considering Waleron was the most unfeeling bastard I'd ever met.

I glanced up at the second floor and the bathroom light turned on. I caught a glimpse of her walk past the window in her silk red pajamas.

I ran my hand through my hair and kicked out at the dumpster, the sound vibrating in the alley. "Fuck."

"COME ON ASSHOLE, JUST shoot the ball." I rolled my eyes as Jedrik deliberated his next shot, his stance casual as he leaned on his pool cue.

He raised his brows and looked up at me. "Sweet cakes, keep that forked tongue inside that luscious mouth of yours. I need to concentrate." He grinned then raised his cue parallel to the green felt table. "This is an art."

"Ha. If this were art, I'd be kicking your ass." I leaned my hip against the side of the table, pool cue in one hand, the other holding a pint of beer.

Jedrik chuckled, took aim, and shot the white ball. It slammed into the red solid, which banked off the right and then sank into the side pocket. He grinned, eyes triumphant. "Friggin' brilliant, as usual." He puffed his chest out like a proud lion after taking down his prey.

I laughed. The guy seriously needed to be 'taken down' a few pegs. Unfortunately, it was our third game and soon to be his third win. I hated losing and thought I could kick his butt since I was pretty good at pool. But Jedrik was better, a helluva lot better, and I was beginning to wonder if he was bad at anything.

"I can't paint worth a damn." Jedrik rubbed chalk on the tip of his cue.

"Excuse me?" My hand tightened on my glass. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

Jedrik shrugged. "See it in your expression, sweetness. A woman's face is like reading a book. Can see everything written right before my magnificent eyes."

I huffed. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't dawdle, Mr. Smarty-pants. Try to sink that green ball so I can have a turn. I need to pee."

Jedrik wiggled his brows then leaned over the table and made a tough double-bank shot effortlessly. He straightened, blew on the tip of his cue then winked at me.

I snorted.

Despite losing, I was glad I'd come out tonight. Jedrik was easy to get along with once past the initial overconfident charm. I'd noticed women glancing at him all night and he returned their ogling with a charismatic grin. There was no question he had a way with women, but I suspected it was for show. Not the confidence—no, he had that in spades—but there was a hint of loneliness in him. It was as if he had to prove he was good enough. Not sure for who or what though.

"I'm going to the ladies room," I said. "And no cheating."

"No need to cheat, princess."

I set my beer on the bar table and my pool cue beside it before heading for the bathroom.

The pub was crowded, being Tuesday and wing night. Hockey played on the big screen televisions, and men hooted and hollered between chugging back their pints of beer.

I wore a forest green, long sleeved shirt, jeans, and my hair pulled back in a clip, messy and casual with a few strands escaping. I hated being around so many strangers. With my abductor still free, I was constantly tense; worried he was coming back to finish what he started. But with Jedrik, it felt . . . safer.

I tried to ignore the leering eyes as I weaved my way through the bar. My mind spun with images of the man from my dreams. I hadn't slept right in three days, since he'd shown up at my gallery. I was a mess of mixed emotions, but mostly, I was angry at his callousness for walking away. But meshed with the anger came emptiness. What sucked even more was every time I went into the back alley behind my place, I swore I smelled his scent.

My sleeve snagged on something and I pulled, but the snag quickly became a hand wrapped around my arm. I spun around and the pungent smell of the guy hit me and my stomach churned. It was as if he'd spent the afternoon in a dumpster. He had an abnormally long neck and a case of bad acne scarring. His dead-straight, raven hair was oily and his eyes were wide, round, and reminded me of a buzzard.

"Get your hand off me, asshole." I yanked again, but his grip only tightened.

The two men seated at his table laughed, and the man sneered. His fingers dug into my flesh and I cringed when I saw his filthy fingernails. He came to his feet and his scent grew stronger, making me gag. How the hell did his friends manage to sit at the same table with this jerkoff? But when I looked at them, I knew why. They looked just as filthy and had matching long necks—obviously a family trait that required an aberration of the gene.

"Perfect." He leaned closer and I held my breath. "You're just what Kentar ordered for tonight. Human."

"I'm not for sale."

"Oh, he doesn't pay. He takes what he wants." His fingers tightened into a bruising hold as he turned to his buddies. "Well, boys, looks like I win. Kentar will be pleased, a human with the scent of a Scar all over her."

I glanced over at Jedrik, who was chatting up some petite redhead with a real petite skirt. His back was to me and he obviously had no idea what was going on. Okay, I could deal with this. I used to be able to deal with assholes like this.

My smartass mouth wasn't going to do me any good with a guy who was obviously drunk. No sober guy would be stupid enough to grab a chick in a bar full of people. I was so going to hate this.

I cocked my hip and moved in closer, giving a sultry smile. I raised my hand and ran my index finger along the man's jaw. My stomach revolted, and I swallowed to keep from spewing my beer all over the front of his shirt.

"Sounds like a good time. Where we headed?"

He grinned and I expected to see rotting teeth, but they were pearly white. Well, at least he had one good habit. "Somewhere real nice, honey," he replied.

His steel grip loosened, and it was what I was waiting for. It was either this or scream wildly and make a complete fool of myself over some guy holding my arm. I clenched my free hand into a fist and, with one swing, belted the guy in the balls. He bellowed in agony, falling to his knees and holding his hands between his legs.

His buddies roared with laughter, and I took off before the jerk had the chance to recover.

Without looking back, I ran into the washroom. As soon as the door closed, I realized my mistake. Trapped. No window, only one way in or out. Shit, I should've gone back to Jedrik. Okay, the guy wouldn't follow me into the woman's—

The door burst open, hitting the wall, and my breath hitched. Hell, my horseshoe was obviously sunk in the mud—deep.

The asshole stood with legs braced and broad shoulders, blocking any path of escape. I slowly backed away, my fear magnifying as his golden eyes glinted with victory.

"You think to make me look the fool in front of others, human?" He dove for me and I ran for the last stall, slamming the door and attempting to slide the lock across just as his fist crashed into it.

I cried out as the corner of the door hit my temple and I fell backward.

"Bitch, you're coming with me, whether you want to or not." He entered the tiny space barricading me inside. Panic surged. Trapped. Unable to move.

No. Hell no. This wasn't going to happen.

I curled my fingers into fists, ready to fight; although, I knew my chances were minimal against him. But everything inside told me to rebel, don't give up. _Never give up._

Suddenly, the man went flying backward and smashed into the mirror above the sinks. Glass shattered and went flying in every direction. His body slid from the counter then fell to the floor in an awkward heap. A hiss escaped his lips before he passed out, unconscious.

I stared in shock at the man for several seconds before I stepped out of the stall, expecting to find Jedrik. Instead, I stared into rainforest-green eyes.

I gasped. "You."

His mouth pursed into a tight, firm line and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had this overwhelming danger about him as he stood watching me. Jesus, he looked really freakin' pissed off.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" His eyes drove into me and, yeah, I was smart enough to be scared of him. "Jesus, Danni. If I hadn't been here . . ." He reached into his boot and pulled out a knife.

I stiffened and took several steps back.

His eyes narrowed, and then he sighed and turned the knife so the handle was facing me. "I'd never hurt you. I fuckin' told you that. Take it." He nodded to the groaning body on the floor. "You have no idea what that guy is capable of. And you'd like his friends even less."

I stared, unable to react, still shocked he was here and he'd just thrown the bulky, smelly guy through the air and into the mirror so hard it knocked him unconscious. He strode toward me, grabbed my hand, and placed the cold hard hilt in my palm.

His gaze jerked to the door and I heard him swear beneath his breath before he started to move away. "I have to go."

I quickly asked, "Your name?"

He hesitated, eyes roaming over me from top to bottom, slow and lingering—heated. Holy Jesus, I felt like he just fucked me with that two second look and I felt the distinct clench between my legs.

"Balen," he said. Then he walked away—again.

Knife in my palm, I stood frozen, looking down at it. I'd never held a weapon like this before—razor sharp, deadly, and making my butcher knives look like spatulas. On the far right, scratched into the surface was his name. Balen.

The door burst open and I jumped, my grip on the knife tightening. Jedrik stood there, gaze sweeping over me and then to the body lying on the floor.

"The other guy . . . I saw him come in here. Where did he go?" Jedrik asked. When I didn't reply right away, he asked again, this time his voice deeper with a sense of urgency. "Danni, do you know him?"

I looked at the knife and then back at Jedrik. "No."

Jedrik nodded to the weapon. "And that?"

I tried to snap the blade closed into the handle. "Umm, it's nothing. I had it. I carry it for protection." My voice quivered and I knew Jedrik heard it when he snorted. I had no idea why I lied, but Jedrik didn't say anything. "It's late and I have clients coming tomorrow. Can we go now?" Another lie.

He frowned, but gave an abrupt nod then reached for the knife I was still struggling to close. He waited patiently until I reluctantly handed over the weapon. He snapped it into the safety position and passed it back. "If you ever need to use it, go for the neck." He gestured toward the man on the floor, who was beginning to wake up and groan in pain. "Want me to nail him one in the groin?"

I half-smiled. "No, I already did that."

"Fine, but next time some foul-smelling buffoon follows you into the bathroom, scream your bloody head off or take his head off." He shrugged. "Whichever."

By the time Jedrik dropped me off at home, it was one in the morning and I was wide awake. The scene from the bar replayed in my mind like a broken record. I touched the knife in my back pocket. Pepper spray I could handle, but a knife? Did he expect me to stab some guy just for being a drunken asshole?

Balen had appeared out of nowhere as if . . . he'd been watching me. There was no way in hell him being at the bar was a coincidence.

Was he watching me right now? Was that why I had the feeling as if he was always around me?

I walked through my gallery, opened the back door, then stepped outside. The cool wind gripped my body as if a hand were pushing me backward toward the safety of my place. I ignored it, crossed my arms, and walked out into the alley. Another gust pounded into me and I shivered.

A dumpster sat to the left and several more a few feet away. Had he stood out here watching me? I looked up at my bedroom window that lacked curtains. I was being stupid; no way would he stand outside in the freezing cold just to watch me through a window.

I turned to head back inside and slammed right into a brick wall of warmth.

"What the hell are you doing?" His voice was low and husky, and damn if it didn't make my stomach flutter.

I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. "Have you been watching me?"

"Didn't you learn anything tonight? It's not safe. Get inside before you get hurt."

Being scolded like a child didn't work for me. In school, my teachers discovered that pretty damn fast. My parents believed scolding children was for the weak-minded and, instead, discussed issues rationally and encouraged me to be inquisitive. Needless to say, some teachers didn't take well to a child refusing to do as they were told without question. Another reason the principal's office became a familiar setting.

I glared back at him. "Either come inside and tell me what the fuck is going on, or leave me the hell alone. And I mean for good. Don't protect me, don't follow me, and sure as hell don't kiss me."

He stood immovable, blocking the wind and snow from blowing into me. I tried not to flinch, but his unwavering glower made my confidence waver. I raised my chin and narrowed my eyes. "Nothing to say? Well, then, fuck off." I turned, intent on continuing down the alley just to spite him.

I managed ten steps—I counted—before his voice rose over the howling wind. "Cages."

I stopped, closing my eyes and putting my fist to my mouth, smothering my cry. It was an overwhelming relief mixed with intense fear knowing that tonight I'd hear what happened to me.

I heard the snow crunch beneath his feet as he came up behind me. Then his hands settled on my hips for a second before he gently pulled me around to face him. He lowered my hand from my mouth then cupped my chin.

"We were in cages," he repeated.

I met his eyes and that was when I saw the torment. Any anger I felt for him was swept away with the bitter wind. He knew what I'd been through and had lived with the pain just as I had.

"Cages hanging from the ceiling." His thumb stroked back and forth over my chin. "You were so brave. So fuckin' brave, Danni."

I let out a small cry, my mind reeling with confusion, searching for some sort of memory to grasp onto. The sound, a chain cranking, a cage being lowered, fear coursing through my veins, knowing pain would come again. What pain? What had they done to me?

A female voice sounded from the end of the alley. "Don't!"

Balen shoved me behind him, but kept his hand locked on my arm. The scattered lights from the nearby buildings illuminated a figure walking toward us. She was clothed in a hip length black leather coat that billowed out behind her with each steady step.

I straightened my spine as the woman came into full view. She was stunning. Not model beauty, but a natural beauty. She looked about five-foot-three or -four and had toned legs clad in tight, black jeans. Her hair was cropped shoulder length with jagged edges that reached an inch below her chin. Her features were sharp and her skin a flawless almond color. South American, maybe, or Spanish. Whichever, the woman was beautiful.

The woman's eyes never once left Balen and it felt like a standoff. Each waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Delara." Balen nodded to her.

Delara? That was the girl Jedrik had mentioned the other night. He'd said she'd taken off though.

"He knows you're back. And there are . . . complications." Her voice was harsh like sandpaper scratching a marble slab—sexy.

"Aren't there always," Balen said, his grip on my arm tightening.

Feeling jealous sucked. It was a new emotion for me and it made me feel out of control and vulnerable.

I noticed them both stiffen, and then the woman swore several times.

"Get out of here," she said. Her gaze shot to me, then back to Balen. "You should've stayed away from her. He's going to be seriously pissed." She glanced over her shoulder then looked back at us. "Go, damn it."

"Why are you helping me?" he asked.

"You fought and won. You're still one of us."

Fought and won? What the hell were they talking about? Who was going to be pissed?

"You trust me?" Balen asked her.

She gave an abrupt nod. "Yeah. Now, get the hell out of here."

"I'm not running anymore, Delara. I'll face my punishment," he said.

"Punishment?" I asked. "What are you talking about?" Was he wanted by the police?

Delara ignored me and looked over her shoulder then back at Balen. "Fine. Do what you want, but turn yourself in, don't go as a prisoner. Go. I'll keep him occupied."

Balen nodded then turned to me, his gaze hardening as if he was assessing me for a brief second.

"What is she talking about?" My heart raced and I could feel my nerves going off like live-wires. "Balen, what is going on?"

He leaned in until his lips were inches from my ear. "Don't be jealous, little one. Even if I can't have you, I'll always be yours."

My breath hitched and I went to pull away to look up at him, but he turned then jogged down the alley.

The woman grabbed my sleeve to get my attention as I watched Balen disappear from view. "Go inside." She nodded to an approaching figure from the opposite direction Balen disappeared. "You don't want to meet this guy."

"What were you and Balen talking about?"

"There's no time." She shoved me toward my gallery door. "If you want to stay alive then get out of here."

I glanced once more down the alley then turned and ran inside.

I FELT THE VIBRATION of his anger with each stride he took toward me. I straightened my shoulders and lifted my chin to give the impression I was confident and unconcerned about his sudden appearance. Because the moment Waleron saw any weakness, he'd crush me.

Inside I was a chaotic jumble of emotions as my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I took short harsh breaths, feeling as if I was suffocating under a blanket of fear. Getting beat up by my ex-maite, Tarek, didn't help matters, although Waleron would never hurt me physically; his was pure emotional destruction.

I hadn't seen him since the night he stood beside the witch-bitch, Trinity, knowing he was going to fuck her. It had reaped a hole right through me and I knew I couldn't stay any longer. I had to leave. I had to get myself back. I left that day and I swore it would be the last time I'd let him affect me.

I inhaled his scent and my body betrayed me with marshmallow legs and a racing heart as memories came rushing back to humiliate me further.

Jesus Christ, I was a bowl of Jell-O. It was all I could do to remain standing as his eyes met mine with that familiar glint of blue. A blue that made all the reasons I left come rushing to the surface. I thought the hurt had been erased after all this time, but instead, the pain slammed back into me like a mallet.

I watched his long, confident legs—legs I'd tried desperately for years to obliterate from my mind, legs that had been around me. That I'd touched. Licked. Kissed every inch of.

He stood in front of me with his familiar, emotionless expression. No remorse for what he'd done. He didn't touch me, yet I felt him all over. His breath seeped into my pores, fingertips caressed my skin. It wounded—broke every shred of dignity.

Bastard. Cold, callous bastard.

Waleron stared, eyes like ice, voice even colder. "I will ask once. Why?"

"That's all you want? Why? But you know the answer, don't you? I made it clear and you made yourself crystal clear. Nothing more to be said." I glared back at the hard lines on his face that matched his hard, unyielding disposition.

He reached toward me and I forced myself to stay completely still as my insides liquefied with anticipation of his touch. Did this need for him ever disappear? It was as if he had a nicotine-like hold on my mind and body and I couldn't get him out of me.

God, touch me. Hold me again.

When the back of his hand stroked my cheek, I thought my knees would give way, but it was his eyes that kept me standing, a translucent blue that locked me in place.

"I thought," Waleron began, but then he changed his mind and grabbed the back of my neck. It was harsh and forceful as though he was making it clear that any refusal on my part was unacceptable. His breath floated across my face, and then his lips followed.

At first, it was cruel and unbending, our mouths clashing in a wild need to hurt one another. But within seconds, it changed and it became sensual and gentle. My palms rested on his chest, heat radiated from him as I caressed the tattooed muscles that remained covered by his coat and shirt. His fingers stroked the back of my neck and goose bumps rose while our tongues danced a slow and erotic song.

When I moaned beneath his kiss, I instantly felt his withdrawal. _No. Damn it, don't do this again._

But it was too late. I felt the tension in him, the coldness seeping across his body to leak into me. God, he made me hate myself.

My hands fell from his chest and I shivered. Time couldn't erase him. The realization hit me that I'd never break from this man. He could hurt me time and again, and yet . . . I still wanted every part of him. Tears fell, and I was disgusted with myself for allowing him to see me like this.

"Why? Why do you continue to do this?"

He kept his gaze riveted on me and I saw the anger swirling in the depths. I'd learned one thing since I'd been away from him. No matter how scared I was, I had to stand my ground. I'd survive without his love—I had survived—but to live with his bitterness, too?

"You left." Waleron's voice vibrated through the air. "You fuckin' left!"

Goose bumps didn't trickle across my skin; they darted in a wild frenzy. He was livid. He never swore.

His voice was so filled with rage that it took every ounce of courage to remain standing in front of him.

"Two years, Delara. Two years I searched for you. Nothing. No email. No messages. No calls. Nothing. That, I won't forgive." He pulled his duckhead candy dispenser from his pocket.

"God, why do you do that? I hate that thing." My hand shot out and I grabbed the plastic container from him and flung it into the snow. "You walked away." I tried to keep my voice controlled but I was slowly unravelling, and if he knew it, he'd finish the job himself. "You walked away from me. You chose life without me. What was I supposed to do? Watch you go off and have sex with Trinity?" The snake tattoo on the side of his neck, his Ink, hissed and its eyes flashed red. I stepped back. Waleron wouldn't hurt me physically, but his Ink, I wasn't so sure of.

"It was necessary. You know why," he said.

"Bullshit. You chose to. We all have choices and you chose to sleep with that bitch for her visions. I get it. You protect us, all of us, but that doesn't mean I had to stand around and watch you with another woman."

"I want you in the Talde house by tomorrow. End of discussion, Delara."

I snorted. "Not a chance."

"Delara!"

_Stand your ground._ I gripped the sides of my jeans so hard my nails penetrate the denim. "I'm not living at the Talde house. And if you force this, I'll retaliate. I need more time away from . . ." I was about to say you, but stopped myself. "I deserve this."

There was a subtle twitch in his left cheek and I knew it well, just like everything else to do with this man—frustration. "With Balen gone, you're our only Tracker. You're a Scar. It's your duty, Delara."

My back stiffened. He had no right to ask this of me. I'd been nothing but loyal to the Scars.

"I'll help if _they_ need me, but I'm not coming back." Was he completely numb to what we once shared? Did he feel nothing?

"And Tarek?"

Bastard had to bring up him. I crossed my arms, needing some kind of barrier from him. "He's in Rest. I'll deal with it when the time comes."

"You can't defeat him, Delara. When his Resting period is over, he will come for you."

"It isn't your problem." But knowing Waleron, he'd make it his problem. The guy had an issue with allowing others to deal with their own problems. An addiction to protectiveness—among other things.

Waleron closed his eyes for a second, and for an instant, I thought I saw his pain in the way his brows drew together, but that was impossible, Waleron didn't feel pain anymore. "I can't give you what you want, Delara. I made it clear that night. I'll never love again."

"Yeah, and I was the idiot to think that maybe that night would change your mind. Well, I'm not an idiot anymore. So be angry. Hate me for what I did and will do again. Because I want love. I want something you can't give, so I'll find it elsewhere." I wiped away the stray tear with the back of my hand. The words poured out and I knew by the twitch in his jaw and the shifting of his weight that he was uncertain whether I was spewing lies or not. I felt him pushing at my mind, but I managed to keep my thoughts blocked from him.

I wanted more. I wanted what we once had—truth, friendship, laughter, passion. He had all those qualities in him, somewhere deep in his black, jagged heart. I'd seen his laughter, felt his gentle touch, and even experienced his teasing. It had been the only time in my life that I felt . . . whole.

Then it all shattered.

To pieces.

With one caress of his hand across my cheek, he'd told me we'd never be together again.

I'd been so stupid to believe that in time . . .

All the years I'd hoped and prayed Waleron would come to his senses, but he never did. And his coldness had leached into me, sucking out my heart and pulling me under so I couldn't breathe. I knew if I stayed near him any longer, I'd become like him, cold and unfeeling.

The deal he made with Trinity had been the last knife in my gut. To stand in front of him, the witch, Trinity, at his side, and knowing he would spend the week in her seductive arms, it had killed any shred of hope I had for us. If he had one ounce of compassion for me, he'd never have made that bargain with that bitch.

That night, I'd walked away wounded, bleeding, and alone. I knew leaving would hurt Jedrik, but facing Waleron after that . . . I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough to do that.

"We need you." Waleron's tone was quiet and raspy.

He said _we._ Not _I_ need you. Screw that. "I'm here to help Balen. And, yes, he's here. But you know that already, don't you?" This was the only way.

"You can't keep running."

"Yeah, watch me, Waleron." He flinched at that. I always called him Tac. "Watch me walk away and, I swear, I won't look back. And you know why? Because I'm over you. I've healed. You mean nothing to me and I won't stay under your control." The lies tumbled out like marbles spilling from a glass jar.

Hate him. Break his blasted heart.

But that was impossible. Waleron didn't have a heart.

I turned on my heel, my heart hoping he'd call me back, and common sense knowing he wouldn't. He wanted me close to him, but refused to love me again. Well, he couldn't have it both ways.

As I walked away from him, my mind kept screaming, _Please call out to me._ _Please stop me. Love me like I know you can._

I kept my head high as tears stained my cheeks. He never called out to me; his stance never moved.

And I never looked back.

I WALKED DOWN THE sidewalk the next evening still thinking about Balen. I had no idea if I'd ever see him again or if he'd suddenly show up next to me. What I did know was that I was sick of waiting for answers and trying to forget what happened to me. I wanted to know. I had to know.

It took twenty minutes with fake tear-filled eyes to find out the nurse's name who had looked after me in the hospital. It took another fifteen minutes to convince the girl at the nursing station to tell me her schedule. Luckily, Nurse Susan was working up on the fifth floor tonight, but was off shift in fifteen minutes.

When the doors to the elevator opened, a tremor of dread came over me and I backed away.

"Hey, you getting on?" a man in a white coat said, holding the door open.

I shook my head then bolted for the stairs. Quivers ran through me as I thought of what Balen had said—cages. We were in cages hung from the ceiling.

I wandered the halls on the fifth floor and peeked in rooms until finally I recognized a woman walking down the sterile hallway. She had a large nose that curved up at the tip, a splatter of freckles on her cheeks, and wide, gentle hazel eyes. Her wide hips swayed back and forth, and the stethoscope looped around her neck swung with the motion.

I intercepted her before she walked into a patient's room. "Nurse Susan? Can I speak with you for a second please?"

She turned and walked toward me. "Oh, sweetie, how are you?" She touched my arm with familiarity. "Danielle, right? Everything okay?"

I smiled. It was weird because I remembered bits and pieces of being at the hospital. The nurse had been kind and patient even when I'd screamed and freaked out over the doctor examining me. I'd nearly given him a black eye when he touched the wounds on my neck. They'd sedated me for a couple days until I calmed down. It was Nurse Susan who quietly explained the hospital's findings and even stayed with me when the police came to ask questions.

"I'm fine, thank you." Nurse Susan lowered her brows and pursed her lips together. It was like a scolding from a teacher who knew her student was lying. "Okay, I'm not fine. I'm having flashbacks. Bad ones. I just feel like I need to know more about what happened. Did anyone come visit me? You know, before I gained consciousness or maybe when I was asleep? Did you see anything . . . something strange maybe?"

She sighed. "Sweetie, are you sure you want to dig up the past? You know, your mind might be trying to protect you against what happened."

"I need to know." I spoke louder than intended and the two women at the nursing station raised their heads and frowned. "Sorry. Listen, I've met this guy and he kind of brings back memories." I took out a sketch of Balen and passed it to her. "Do you recall seeing him around at all?"

"No. No, definitely not, and I think I'd remember such a handsome young man." She passed the paper back. "You don't think he's the man who abducted you, do you?"

I shook my head. "No, he didn't hurt me, but can you tell me anything about my condition that may help me remember."

"Well . . ." She tapped her pen to her temple. "The punctures and bruises on your neck were odd. But the doctor said the marks were probably from a ring your assaulter wore. You did have bruising and cuts around your wrists and ankles like you were . . ."

"Tied down?"

She nodded. "And your red blood cell count was really low, yet you had no significant bleeding to explain why. We had to give you a transfusion. You were an unusual case. I guess that's why I remember you so clearly."

I rubbed my wrists, thinking of the bruising the doctor believed were from manacles.

"My dear, I'm sorry I can't be of much help."

I smiled. "Well, I appreciate your time." I passed the nurse a card from my gallery. "If you think of anything, can you call me?"

"Of course. Keep your chin up. And say hi to Abby for me. What a doll. So concerned and caring. A friend like her is hard to find."

"Abby?" I didn't have any friends by the name of Abby.

"I believe that was her name. I recall the morning quite clearly. I was just getting off my shift when she came into emergency calling for help. She had you in her car. Sweetie, don't you remember her? She said she was a good friend of yours, and you were conscious. You were talking to her. It was like you knew her. I'm not sure why you wouldn't remember that."

"No, I don't know anyone named Abby."

"You don't remember leaving the hospital?"

"What? No."

"You left in the middle of the night. I don't know how you managed to slip past those on duty, but one minute you were lying in bed and the next—gone. It was only an hour or so before Abby brought you back. You were no longer on morphine. I thought you'd remembered that." She crinkled her long, thin brows together. "When you came back, you had a cut on your neck that wasn't there before. Abby couldn't say how you came by it, only that you'd called her and she picked you up wandering on the street. She was so concerned, fussing over you. She had you wrapped up in her coat. You were shivering like a leaf." She hesitated, taking my hand and squeezing. "Are you seeing anyone, child? I mean, maybe if you had someone to talk to . . . I could suggest—"

"What did she look like? Did she give a last name, her phone number, anything?"

"No, just Abby. She had red hair and a petite frame. Pale face, wearing all that black. Such a beautiful girl to be wearing all black."

I was at a dead end. All the police had was my abductor's DNA taken from beneath my fingernails. But without him in their system, they had nothing.

"Abby did mention another name in passing. Annie or Ansley. No, it was more unusual. I think it was . . ."

"Anstice." I didn't wait for her confirmation as I ran from the hospital.

I headed straight to Anstice and Keir's, handling my Mini like the car had been built to be driven, and the engine purred with glee at being able to strut its stuff. I made it in record time without another speeding ticket to add to my collection.

"Who's Abby?" I said as soon as Anstice opened the door. I pushed past her and took a quick scan of the foyer, relieved we were alone.

When I turned around, Anstice had her hand on the wall supporting her weight, and her face had gone white.

"You know her? You fucking know her?" _Un-fucking-believable._ I'd hoped the nurse had been wrong, that Anstice hadn't been hiding something from me. "Who is she?"

"Danni . . . Danielle, I . . ."

"Babe, what is it? I heard the . . ." Keir stood at the top of the stairs and I sagged a little because when Keir became involved it was like fighting a rhino. "Danielle," he said. And he called me Danielle. Not good. He was already on the offensive. He came down the stairs and wrapped his arm around Anstice's waist like a protective shield. "What's this about?"

"Don't give me that bull. You know damn well what I'm talking about. Abby? Who is she?"

Anstice looked up at her husband with pleading eyes, her fingers curled in his shirt. He remained stoic, unblinking as he met my eyes head-on.

"Leave it alone, Danni." Keir's tone was abrupt with a warning edge to it.

"Piss off, Keir. Anstice knows an Abby. An Abby who was at the hospital with me." I ignored Keir's glare and looked at Anstice, who was having difficulty meeting my eyes. "Anstice?"

"I . . . I . . . oh, God, Danni, please, I can't . . ."

I gripped the banister for support, my fingernails penetrating the wood, as anger surged. "I can't believe you're going to stand there and pretend you don't know anything. So much for best friends. I guess now that you have your little family here, you don't need a friend who is all fucked up. Well, screw you. I'll find out for myself."

Anstice reached out to me and I jerked away. "Danni, please. You can't go searching for answers even the police can't find. It's too dangerous. Come sit down—"

"Who is Abby?" I stood my ground.

When Anstice and Keir remained silent, I whirled around to leave.

Keir grabbed my arm, stopping me. "Anstice is trying to protect you, not hurt you."

I raised my fist and went to punch him in the face, but he blocked me with his palm. "Fuck you, Keir. I'm the one hurting, and, obviously, you both can help, but you've chosen to let me suffer in hell."

"Danni. Please," Anstice pleaded.

I ignored her and went out the front door. They knew who Abby was and yet they refused to tell me? What was going on? Who were they protecting? It sure as hell wasn't me.

I got in my car and drove down the road, parked beneath a large pine tree, and then put on my hat, gloves, and scarf and walked back to Keir's.

If they contacted Abby, it would be tonight. No way was I going to let this opportunity slip from my grasp like everything else had. They knew more about my abduction than they were letting on, and I was going to find out what, even if I had to sit out in the freezing cold all bloody night.

I paced the alley like a caged panther, every so often stopping to search for her scent. Nothing. Three fuckin' hours and nothing.

Coldness seeped into my veins and it wasn't from the near-freezing temperature. The possessive feeling was mounting by the day; an uncontainable protectiveness I had no right to feel.

I'd fought the need to see her again. I'd spent days in some shit motel in darkness, trying to get her out of my mind. I couldn't do it. The need was more powerful than me, and yet, seeing her again had only brought more pain to both of us.

I kicked a stray plastic bag and the wind picked it up, twirled it in the air, and then dropped to the ground again as the wind died down. It was like me. I was losing my footing with her when I'd always had complete control.

And now I had to leave her and turn myself into the Deaconry.

I deserved whatever punishment they decided. Loyalty. Honesty. Allegiance. All had been drilled into my head since I was a kid. Then, with a few words, I'd betrayed my own blood. Some fuckin' allegiance.

And the worst of it, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I'd trade the location of my sister to the vampire Ryszard in exchange for Danni's freedom. I should've found another way, fought harder, done more. Except the conclusion was always the same—Danni would've become Ryszard's slave if I hadn't made the deal.

Now I'd stand before the Deaconry to face my punishment. And I was okay with that. I accepted it. What I didn't accept was leaving Danni alone without the protection of the Scars. They had to bring her in. But I knew the rules—no humans can know about them.

I slammed my fists into the metal recycle bin and the sound vibrated through the alley. "Fuck."

I SHIFTED ON THE tree branch, trying to get feeling back in my butt. It had been hours, and the only movement at the house was Jedrik's BMW leaving. Being Jedrik and this late at night, it was probably a booty call.

I was high enough to see over the massive stone wall and still hidden by the few oak leaves that refused to give way despite the early winter winds. Like me, barely hanging on, waiting for that one gust of wind that would break my hold on sanity and send me crashing to the ground.

The front door opened.

I leaned forward as a guy I didn't recognize walked out. He was taller than Keir and broader. Even from this distance, he looked intimidating from the way he stood confidently in the doorway. He hesitated on the second step and I saw him tilt his head to the side as if listening for something. Suddenly, his head jerked in my direction and his eyes flashed a bright golden color.

"Shit."

I scrambled down the tree as fast as I could. Keir finding out I was spying on them was not something I wanted to stick around for. And I certainly didn't want that guy coming after me. Keir had some seriously scary-ass friends.

I yelped when I grabbed hold of a sharp broken branch and it dug into my palm. I teetered for a second and reached for another, but my balance was already off and I skidded through the branches until my abdomen hit hard, breaking my fall. I managed to hook my arms over the limb as my feet dangled.

"Jesus, Danni."

"What the—" I lost my grip and fell the rest of the way, making a loud _oof_ when my back hit a branch as I tumbled.

I braced for the hard, cold ground. What I got was hard, but warm as hell.

I instinctively hooked my arms around his neck as he held me. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Balen's furious tone cut through my shock and I struggled in his arms, shoving at his chest. "Put me down."

The green in his eyes dissipated and they shaded black as he glared at me. For a second, I thought he was going to ignore me as his arms tightened. He slowly let me slip from his arms, but his hand remained locked on my wrist and he was so close it was as if he was on top of me with his towering height.

"Get off me." I tried to tear from his grip, but he refused to budge.

"I'm not _on_ you and if I was . . . you'd sure as fuck know it."

My stomach cartwheeled and my sex clenched as I imagined him on top of me. I gritted my teeth as unwanted desire rose and I had no way to stop it.

"Why are you here?" I tried again to dislodge his hold, but Balen was strong as hell and currently pissed off, although he had no right to be. I was the one pissed off that my friends were hiding shit from me. "Are you following me? Stalking me?"

He remained silent, but I noticed the twitch in his cheek and his lips pursed together harder.

"What? Suddenly mute?"

He tilted his head down and tugged me closer so his mouth was inches from mine. "I saw your car parked on the street and decided to look for you. Good thing, too, otherwise your ass would be pretty damn sore right now."

My lips parted as my heart raced and tingles sprinkled my skin. All I could think about was him slamming me back into the tree and fucking me when I should be freaked out that this guy was stalking me. I narrowed my eyes and curled my hands into fists. "That's a bullshit answer and you know it."

"Fuck, Danni. You don't get it. Wasn't the asshole at the bar enough?" He abruptly let me go and ran his hand through his hair. "I warned you to be careful and then I find you in the middle of the night sitting in a fuckin' tree."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I don't need a babysitter and I sure as hell don't need a stalker. I gave you a chance to explain what happened. You walked away . . . sorry, I mean ran away. So, stay the hell away from me."

He shook his head and it dropped forward as he said in a ragged tone, "I can't. I fuckin' can't."

My mouth dropped open as a range of emotions shot through me all at the same time. I didn't know what to say. It was so fucked up. This was fucked up. My life was quickly crumbling into a mess of broken puzzle pieces and I felt as if I was jamming them together and they wouldn't fit.

Except Balen. He fit. Everything about him was wrong and yet it felt right and that was so messed up. But he was holding shit back from me just like Anstice, and I was sick of it. "I don't need you or anyone else fucking up my life." I turned to leave when his arm hooked around my waist, pulling me back to land up against his chest. Common sense told me to fight him, but when his eyes softened and he cupped my chin, his thumb caressed back and forth, all my resolve went shooting out the top of my head.

Balen nodded toward the house. "Why are you sitting in a tree watching that house, little one?"

How was I supposed to act nonchalant when all I could think about were those lips moving closer so they'd press against mine? I'd never felt so . . . sexually aware of a man in my life. It was a need so strong that I was fighting against myself constantly. Was this how my father felt about my mother? Out of control. Insane with need.

I never wanted that. Never wanted to be that weak and vulnerable.

What I wanted . . . no, what I needed was for him to leave. "My friends live there and they're hiding something from me. Satisfied?"

Suddenly, his body stiffened and his head jerked toward the house. "We need to leave—now."

Before I could protest, he locked his hand in mine and took off down the street, pulling me along beside him. "Balen?"

He didn't say anything, but I felt the tension in him and one glance at his face sent a tidal wave of fear to crash into me. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed and there was no softness in his eyes.

"Keys?" He held out his hand when we reached my car.

I made no move to give them to him, and it was more a hesitation because I was thinking about whether or not I should let him get in my car.

"We don't fuckin' have time for whatever is playing with your head right now." He grabbed me and began searching my coat pockets. I kicked out and tried to pull away, but it was like I was this little pathetic mouse under a cat's paw.

The keys clanged when he pulled them from my pocket then he unlocked the car and threw open the passenger door. "Get in."

I was going to fight him, but something in his expression made me think arguing with him at the moment was not a good idea nor would it do me any good.

I got in and he walked around the front of the car and folded into the driver's seat. He didn't say anything as he started the car and took off, the tires skidding on the pavement.

I lasted a few minutes before I started in on him. He looked a little more . . . calm, the tightness between his brows was gone and he was no longer jamming the gear shift.

"Who were we running from?"

"No one." He kept his eyes forward, but I noticed his hand curled around the steering wheel tighten.

"If it was no one, then why did we run like a herd of rhinos were after us?"

He half laughed, half snorted and the corners of his lips curved up. He looked cute when he did that. No . . . it wasn't cute; Balen didn't have cute in him. The guy was too scary for cute. He was all hotness. Maybe he'd seen the guy I had before I fell out of the tree. "Did you see someone?"

"No. I need to think and I can't think with you asking questions."

"What?" Was he serious?

He glanced over at me and any hint of laughter I'd seen moments ago was gone. But he didn't look angry, he looked worried. His brows were drawn low over his eyes and his hand on the gear shift rubbed back and forth.

"Okay." He needed a minute, I got that and if that guy I saw coming out of Anstice's house had been coming for us, Balen had just saved my ass—again.

We drove in silence and I opened my mouth several times to say something then clamped it shut again and stared out the side window.

He pulled into the parking garage and I pointed to my spot. He careened in and shut off the ignition. "Someone was watching us and no, I didn't see him," he said and then got out of the car.

I quickly followed and said over the hood of the car, "So you smelled him? No deodorant kind of thing or too much cologne?"

He was already walking away. "Something like that."

I jogged after him and heard the beep as he pressed the key to lock my doors. "Which one? Because I sure as hell didn't smell anything."

We came out of the garage onto the street and he slipped his hand in mine. I jerked back, but he held firm and continued walking.

"You have control issues," I muttered.

He chuckled and the raspy, deep sound sent baby sparks through me. Stupid girl hormones.

He stopped at my door, let me go, and then passed me the keys. "Where's the Telwar I gave you?"

"What?"

"The knife. Do you have it with you?"

"Of course not. I'm not carrying around a knife—"

He sighed. "God, you're stubborn."

"No, I'm sane. Who carries around a knife except criminals?"

"People who want to live." Wow, he was paranoid. "I'm leaving tomorrow and I need you to be careful. I need you to keep the knife on you at all times and . . ." I opened my mouth and he pressed his finger to it. "No more hiding in trees at night. It would be even better if you didn't go out after dark."

I huffed. "For how long? The rest of my life? You're insane." I turned, putting the key in the lock, his words roaring in my head. _Fuck him._ I left the key in the lock and spun around to face him. "You know, if I want to dance in the streets at three in the morning wearing a pink tutu, I'll bloody well do it. Where the hell do you get off tell—"

He stepped forward so I was trapped between the door and his chest then grabbed my forearms. "Listen to me, damn it. Something isn't right. I don't know what it is, but it's all around you."

"Around me?" I snorted and raised my brows. "Like a halo? Or maybe an aura? You know, on the next block is a special hospital. I'm certain if you tell them about these auras, they'll admit you without question."

Okay, he looked pissed. But what did he expect when he said shit like that?

"Danni, just do what I tell you to."

_Oh, wrong thing to say, buddy._ I didn't give a flying crap if he was pissed or not, I was not being ordered around like a kid.

"Why do you have to be such a dick when you open your mouth?"

He sighed. "Little one, this is—"

"And stop calling me that." I loved the endearment, which right now made me hate it.

"I was there."

My heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, heard that already."

I tried to act flippant, but with the bright lights from the street illuminating his face, I saw the truth in his expression. Shit, this was what I wanted, and yet it terrified me.

"I saw what that bastard did to you and I can't get it out of my head." He let go of my arms, leaned forward and caged me in by placing his palms against the door. "Every fuckin' time I close my eyes, I hear your screams and it fuckin' rips me apart. I stayed away, but . . . I just couldn't do it any longer."

I stood frozen, staring.

He grabbed my shoulders. "Are you listening to me? I'd sell my fuckin' soul to the devil to take back what happened to you. Fuck, I did." He moved closer so his chest pressed against mine. I swallowed as my nipples reacted and hardened. "I can't let anyone hurt you again. I won't. I need you safe and that means you have to listen to me. Promise me you'll be more careful."

The pull I had toward him was overwhelming. I was the negative side of the magnet and he was the positive, dragging me closer. My senses needed to touch, taste, and smell him. God, why? Why was this happening? All I wanted was peace from my past, and still it gripped me like a fish hook. I couldn't explain the pull toward him. It didn't make sense.

"Why were you there? Were you his accomplice?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew he wasn't; he'd even said we'd both been in a cage. He'd suffered like I had. No, somehow I knew he'd suffered worse.

He cursed under his breath. "Fuck, no. I'd never hurt you." He growled low in his throat and ran his hand through his hair. "I feel you all the fuckin' time, Danni. I can't get you out of me. But what I feel for you will destroy us both."

Oh, God, why did he have to go and say shit like that?

"What's between us . . . it's not natural, but I need you so bad I feel as if my insides will dissolve into a thousand particles if I can't have you. It's not fuckin' normal. I don't know what it is, but I can't stop it."

I didn't tell him that I felt it, too. Shit, I wanted him so much it hurt and that was crazy. Maybe, we were both insane.

His fingers curled around the back of my neck; then he tugged. I stumbled into his arms and he lowered his head until our lips were inches apart; his warm breath drifting over my skin. I never wanted to taste anything as badly as I did him.

"Balen." I felt like I knew every inch of him, every pain and happiness. It was an irresistible draw toward him that I couldn't explain, and right now, I didn't want to.

"Jesus, Danni. What am I doing?" He abruptly pulled away. "I have to get out of here."

"But . . ."

Balen's eyes looked tormented, the green darkening and his brows lowering over them. "If you . . . Danni, follow your instinct. If something doesn't feel right, go to your friends. They'll protect you."

I didn't even contemplate his words; all I could think about was him leaving me again. "Are you coming back?"

His jaw clenched. "No. I can't ever come back."

It felt as if a lead weight dropped into my stomach. "No." Shit. What the hell was I doing? But the words tumbled from my mouth and I couldn't stop them. Truthfully, I didn't want to. "Don't leave."

"Danni—"

I curled my fingers around the edges of his coat. "Stay." Shit, five minutes ago I was ready to belt him one. Now, I wanted him to stay. I was all screwed up, not understanding what was happening, why I was so connected to him.

He stepped back. "No."

"I need you to stay."

His hands curled into fists at his sides. "No. Go inside." He went to turn, but I held onto his coat.

"One night." Whatever pull was between us, whatever past we shared, it had led to this moment and I wasn't letting it go.

I'D BEEN READY TO walk away. I'd been prepared to leave her.

I wanted to punch something. Destroy. I was never fuckin' coming back. There'd never be anything between us.

"You don't know what the fuck you're saying, Danni." But all I thought about was holding her in my arms. Feeling her legs curl around me as I slipped my cock into her tight warmth. For years, as I fought the blood lust, I imagined fucking her, feeling her fingernails in my back, hearing her scream my name instead of the one I heard in my dreams.

"Don't patronize me. I know exactly what I'm saying."

I closed my eyes, willing myself to walk away, yet unable to.

"I want this. I need this. Don't you dare walk away—again. You're the first guy I've wanted to touch me since . . . whatever happened to us. I'm not asking for anything more than one night. I know you're running from something, and I don't do relationships, so it works. I just want—"

My cock pressed hard against my jeans, and my pulse raced like I was a fuckin' sixteen-year-old thinking about getting laid for the first time. But I was a Scar and she had no idea what the fuck she was dealing with.

I grabbed her by the hips and jerked her hard up against me. Then I cupped her neck, fingers cruelly digging into her flesh. "Tell me, Danni. Can you fuck me when I'm like this?" My grip tightened and I saw her wince. "Because this is me." I felt her panic begin to surface, but I couldn't ease up. She had to know exactly what she was asking.

"Can you?" I demanded before my mouth came down on hers. It was meant to be bruising and harsh, forcing her lips apart and taking what I'd wanted—needed. This was to make her run from me, to make her fear me. Yet, as my fingers curled in her hair and I pulled her head back, I felt her body relax and succumb to my kiss.

She moaned beneath my assault and my cock jerked. Fuck, I wanted this woman. Whether it was something in my dark world that was driving us together or just what we'd been through together . . . it no longer mattered. I had to have her and there was no turning back.

I swept her up into my arms and kicked open the gallery door. My mouth left hers for one second to grab the keys then lock the door again.

"Fuck, baby." I stared down at her in my arms, her face flushed, lips swollen and red from my bruising kiss. "I'm going to fuck you and then I'm going to leave. You good with that?"

She nodded, her fingers curling into the back of my neck.

"I want to hear you say it, Danni. I need to know you're okay with this."

"You going to fuck me or stand here and talk about it?"

I growled low in my throat then strode through the gallery, carried her upstairs and tossed her on the bed. I followed, hovering over top, my weight on my knees as I straddled her. I ran my finger across her brow, loving how it curved slightly upward in the center. "I don't do nice and sweet."

Her eyes flickered away from mine for a second and I could see the artery in her throat throb faster. Yeah, she was scared of me and she should be. I needed possession of her and she needed submission from me, something I didn't have in me to give.

My cock had never been so fuckin' hard before as I waited for her to say something. I almost wished she'd push me away; tell me to go to hell. Because one thing I was certain of, leaving was going to fuckin' destroy me.

She raised her hand to wrap around the back of my neck. "I want what only you can give me—salvation." Before I could tell her I was no one's fuckin' salvation, she pulled me toward her, tilted her head and her lips took mine in a sweet, gentle urging.

I groaned and any resistance collapsed. I lowered my weight on top of her and weaved my fingers in her hair. My mouth harsh and unforgiving against hers, I took what I'd been starving for. Took what I needed. And even if I only had one night with her, I was making her mine.

I tensed as the urge to fight him overpowered my desire. I tried to push it back, but his weight wouldn't allow me to move. He had my wrists locked in his hand above my head while his mouth drove into mine.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to move my head away from his harsh kiss.

Click.

Oh, God, please let me do this.

Click.

I curled my fingers, nails digging into my palm.

I couldn't move. Trapped. Tied down on a cold metal . . . no, Balen was on top of me.

He reached under my top, his hand sliding up my abdomen, over my ribs and then he cupped my breast. "Fuck, little one. Your breasts are perfect." I couldn't focus anymore on what he was doing as the fear escalated. I couldn't move. My arms were held down with chains. I writhed beneath him as he pinned me to the mattress.

"No. God, please no."

My whispered pleas mumbled against his mouth and Balen jolted back so hard he fell off the bed.

I sat up the instant he was off me.

Balen ran his hand down his face then drove his fist into the floor before climbing to his feet. "I told you. I fuckin' warned you. Jesus Christ." He strode to the window and placed his palms on the pane. "Fuck."

Us being together was something more than just sex. This was about conquering my demons, and I suspected it was about conquering his as well. Maybe neither of us had the power to defeat the memories, but we could replace them with new ones.

"This was a bad idea."

"Balen, if you don't hold me down, then—"

"No. Fuck no." His head lowered as he shook it slowly from side to side.

I got up and walked over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He was stiff and unmoving as I leaned in and pressed up against him. "It has to be you."

"Damn it, Danni. I'm not what you need right now."

"You are. You're exactly what I need and want." I gripped the bottom edge of his shirt then slowly pulled it up and over his chest. "Raise your arms," I whispered. Standing on my tiptoes, I nipped his earlobe when he hesitated.

Balen groaned then yanked his shirt off the rest of the way. "You're not ready for this, Danni."

"Yes, I am."

He swung around and our eyes locked. "You just freaked out with me on top of you." His eyes were dark and hard, and yet, beneath that I saw the uncontrollable desire threatening to give way.

"I've felt numb to desire—until now. I don't know why it's you and right now I don't give a fuck." I was determined to have him. To end this constant torment that gripped my mind and wouldn't allow me to feel anything but fear.

I heard his sharp intake of breath as I pulled my shirt up and over my head and let it drop to the floor. His eyes darkened and I saw the danger in them, the darkness mixed with the desire and it felt as if I'd swallowed a bunch of live wires as my nerves sparked. I licked my lips and unclasped my black lace bra.

"Let me do this my way."

He scowled and I got the impression he didn't like having to do it my way.

I let the black lace fall to the floor, the metal clasp making a tiny ting sound as it hit. I kept my eyes on him, afraid he'd either walk away or he'd lose control and throw me down on the bed and have me his way.

He took a deep inhale and it seemed to placate him as his eyes roamed down the length of my body then back up again to meet my eyes. He was quiet. A subtle twitch in his jaw as he watched me.

I reached forward and linked my fingers with his. "Lie down."

He hesitated and my heart pounded so loud I was afraid he'd hear it and think it was fear. Maybe it was. I think it was a combination of fear that he'd leave me, fear that he'd stay. Because no matter what happened tonight, he was leaving and that terrified me.

The mattress creaked as he sat, his eyes never leaving mine even when he lay back. I couldn't help but stare at him. Tattoos molded over his muscled shoulders and arms as if they were naturally part of him.

I leaned over him and slowly undid his jeans. His abdominal muscles contracted and he groaned when my fingers skimmed over his skin. I pulled his jeans down and his cock sprang free, hard and throbbing—beautiful. Just like I knew it would be.

When I looked up and met his eyes, I saw his fierce possessiveness. His tight lips and strained brows indicated he was losing it. His hands gripped the duvet on either side of him so tight his knuckles were white.

"Tell me what you want." He was teetering on the edge, and in order to do this, I had to give him what he needed to keep control.

"I want to flip you over onto your back and fuck you so hard right now, Danni. I don't do slow and sweet. I fuckin' told you that."

I licked my lower lip. "What about my mouth on your cock?"

"Yeah, baby. But I want my mouth on your pussy more." He reached for me and wrapped my hair around his hand. "You good with this?"

I smiled because he may say he didn't do sweet, but him asking was sweet. I nodded.

"Good girl." He tugged on my hair, forcing me to move on top of him. "If you need to stop, you fuckin' say something. Got it?"

"As long as you don't hold me down, it's okay." I bit my lower lip, dragging my teeth over the wet surface. "Kiss me, Balen. Now."

A slow grin formed, and in one swift movement, he had me on my back. "The word _now_ coming from your mouth doesn't work for me. But this will." He knelt on the floor, and then yanked me forward so my legs hung over the side of the bed. "Now, I'll fuckin' kiss you."

He grabbed my hip harshly at first, but then softened as his fingers lightly stroked up my side to the edge of my breast. I held my breath as he hesitated, the tips of his fingers so close, yet not touching. I arched and tried to move into his touch, but his other hand grabbed my thigh and squeezed.

"Oh, God, Balen, please touch me."

"Oh, I plan to. But you need to learn to wait. You do that, and I'll give you what you want." I closed my eyes and moaned when I felt the stubble on his face tickle my inner thigh. I forced myself to relax, sinking back into the mattress. He kissed just above the folds, a light feathered touch of his velvet lips and a violent ache shot through me.

My heart pounded so hard it felt as if it would break through my ribs. I waited for another touch. Another kiss. And I wanted to beg him. I nearly did until I opened my eyes and saw his face.

Our eyes locked and held.

I knew nothing about this man, except that he was a part of me. Maybe, I did know him. It felt as if I did. It felt as if he was the vessel that had kept me alive. I didn't need the memories to tell me that. The truth was there, in me.

He squeezed my nipple—hard. I winced, gritting my teeth together, but the pain turned to pleasure as he gently soothed it with the tip of his finger. Goose bumps rose and scattered across my flesh and I arched into him.

"Don't move." Balen's voice was gruff and I instantly stilled.

I felt his warm breath between my legs and then his tongue flicked over my sex. "Oh, God."

He suckled while his fingers parted the folds so he could get deeper, harder. "Fuck, you're wet."

I moaned, as his voice vibrated against me.

"Don't come yet."

"Huh?" My thighs trembled and my insides quivered. What did he say? Oh, God, what was he doing to me?

His finger found the exact spot. "Oh, God. Yes." He circled slow and soft, then faster and harder. I reached down and threaded my hands into his hair as the building inside me intensified.

He stopped and my eyes flew open. "What's wrong?"

"You touching me, it's not going to work here. Not now. I want to fuck you too badly." I let his hair go and lowered my arms to my sides. "Keep your arms above your head."

"I don't like—"

"Yeah. I know. But I have you for one night. And this is what you need from me."

He was right. I needed to replay the feeling of being tied down and yet have the freedom to move if I had to.

"We change this. Now. Tonight."

I nodded. "Okay," I whispered.

"Good girl." He kissed my inner thigh, then the other, then . . .

I gasped as two fingers penetrated me, deep and hard. "Balen."

The satin warmth of his tongue danced across my sensitive sex as he began thrusting. _Oh, God._ He kept me from arching into him with a hand on my stomach, pushing me back in place whenever I shot forward.

"Please," I begged.

"Love that word from your lips."

Circling. Slow and gentle with his tongue which contradicted his harsh rough thrusts. My head rolled side to side as the tightness grabbed hold and any moment I'd—

All movement stopped and my eyes flashed open. "Not yet."

My whole body shuddered. "Please, I can't wait."

"Not yet," he repeated.

I took several deep breaths, my body ready to crash over the edge with the slightest touch and he must have known it because he waited.

He fuckin' waited and every time I opened my mouth to beg him, he frowned and it was a frown that made me keep quiet because there was no give. It was determined control.

Once my breathing slowed he started again and my body trembled at his touch. It was like I was his instrument and he'd been tuning it. Now . . . now he was playing it.

Harder, faster, again and again, until the sweet sensations rose to a point of no return.

"Come. Come in my mouth, baby."

Spasms shook my body like I'd never experienced before and I screamed his name as waves of pleasure jolted through my insides like an orchestra of sensations.

Finally, the waves slowed and I relaxed, legs falling open and my hands that were clenched into the sheet released. _Holy shit._

I opened my eyes and came up on my elbows and smiled. "Balen?"

"Hmm." He kissed my stomach then came to his feet.

"I want you inside me." I sat up and reached for his hand, but he moved away. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go."

My smile dropped. "No. You're not leaving. You don't get to leave. Not yet. Do you hear me?" I'd just had the best orgasm of my life and he wanted to walk away. Leave. But I knew it wasn't just about the sex. The thought of him leaving me made me . . . uneasy. It was as if something bad was going to happen if he left.

I was being ridiculous, and didn't believe in coincidences and fate and all that, but after painting his picture for two years and then having him show up at my gallery, my gut was all I had and right now, it said don't let him leave.

"DANNI—"

"No. We need this. If this is all we have then it's everything. I want to feel all of you, Balen."

Fuck. My cock was so hard right not, it was painful, but when I fucked a woman it wasn't soft and gentle. I fucked her. And Danni, she was fighting a broken memory of abuse and torture, I couldn't do that to her.

"Tasting you . . . Fuck, hearing you scream with pleasure, Danni . . . that was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. I want to walk away with that to take with me." I backed away and bent down to pick up my jeans.

"No." She crawled off the bed and grabbed the jeans from my hand and threw them aside. "One night. I want one night and so do you."

I watched her luscious hips sway as she walked over to her nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a foiled package. Jesus. This was more than just screwing some chick. This was Danni, the woman I couldn't forget. She lived inside me. Scars had instincts much stronger than humans, but I knew she felt it, too—this shattering need.

Maybe it was because I'd been obsessing about her for so long.

I walked over to her, not sure what I was going to do when I got there until I felt her hands on my cock. And then any resistance I may have had—ended.

I groaned, closing my eyes and tilting my head back. "Fuck."

She rolled the condom on and then slid her hands up my chest, slowly and gently, exactly opposite as to what I was fighting to do to her.

_Submit!_ screamed in my head over and over again.

My mouth drove down on hers in a brutal assault, tasting what I had to have. When she submitted to my kiss, lips pliant beneath mine the roar inside me settled to a steady thrum.

I squeezed her ass and what I got in return was a sweet vibration of her moan under my mouth. I hitched her up and placed her on the edge of the dresser; then pulled back a bit so I could look at her. Her lips were red and swollen and her cheeks flushed, but it was her eyes that made my breath catch. There was desire smoldering in the depths but also—quietness, and I felt it too. It was as if this constant screaming I'd felt to be with her had calmed and it was . . . peaceful.

She smiled and my heart skipped a beat. "Fuck me, Balen."

Adorable. She was fuckin' adorable and I wanted to encase that smile and put it in a jar and take it with me so I could look at it any time I wanted.

I grinned. "Okay, little one." I took hold of my cock and slid it up and down through her moist sex. Her legs locked around my waist and she slipped further off the edge of the dresser. Her eyes closed and she arched her back. I leaned forward, taking her nipple in my mouth, then bit down at the same time as I drove my hips forward, pushing my cock deep.

I groaned as the tightness blanketed me.

Danni tensed. "Yes. God, yes."

Her hands delved into my hair as I pulled out, and then sunk deep again. Our naked bodies smacked together each time I thrust inside her.

Harder.

Faster.

"Give me all of you," I growled as I furiously locked her to me and drove into her again and again.

Rough.

Carnal.

My hands bruising on her flesh.

The dresser banged against the wall and books crashed to the floor.

Possession gripped me and my body roared.

She suddenly screamed my name and her muscles contracted around my cock.

"Fuck, Danni." I couldn't hold on any longer as her body quivered and I groaned, pumping into her one last time as my orgasm ripped through me.

I remained frozen, locked inside her, unable to speak for several seconds, waiting for my mind to calm. Her face snuggled into my shoulder and I was afraid to pull away and see her eyes. If I hurt her. If I scared her . . . Christ, it would be my final destruction.

Danni pulled back and stared at me, her eyes wide with . . . pleasure? Please let me do this one thing right. Everything was shit. I'd broken my loyalty. Betrayed my own blood for . . .

Her.

This woman I held in my arms. She lived and I'd take this one night I had with her with me to whatever fate I was handed by the Deaconry.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Shit yeah. I'm . . . I don't know. I feel lighter or something."

"I didn't hurt you?"

She kissed me at the corner of my lips. "No. I just don't like being restrained."

_Yeah, because of that fuckin' vampire, Ryszard._ He did that to her. I clenched my jaw and felt the rising fury as my blood rushed through my veins.

She stroked her finger across my brow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I helped her off the dresser, and then went into the washroom to get rid of the condom. I pressed my foot down on the stainless steel trash can's lever and it clanged as the lid rose. I tossed the condom, glancing up at the mirror and stopped.

Fuck, what was I doing?

I rested my hands on the edge of the sink and hung my head. Everything in me screamed to say fuck it and run with her. Disappear. I managed it for two years, I could . . .

Impossible. Danni and I were impossible.

The floor creaked as she came up behind me and rested her hands on my hips. "Stay the night."

This was insane. Everything about us was insane. I'd broken the Scars law. Jesus. I could be dead tomorrow.

"For what, Danni. So that it hurts even more when I have to leave in the morning?" I scoffed, shaking my head. "Fuck, Danni. This is it. I'm leaving. I'm not coming back. I can't protect you and I sure as hell can't be with you."

"I never asked for more, Balen."

One night.

Her hands glided down my tatted arms to my hands where she linked them with mine on the edge of the sink. Her scent was all around me, begging me to give her what she wanted.

She trailed kisses along the back of my neck, and when I opened my eyes and looked at our reflection in the mirror . . .

Holding me.

Connected to me.

Fuck, she was part of me.

And I knew I couldn't leave. Not yet. I needed to hold her. Have her sleep in my arms without the nightmares of her screams threatening my sanity.

I turned in her arms then lowered my head and when I kissed her this time, it was soft and gentle.

"One night." Tomorrow, death or Rest would end what had never had the chance to begin.

I led her to the bed, threw back the covers, and she crawled beneath them. I slipped in beside her and she instantly tucked into my side, her cheek resting on my chest and her leg on top of my thigh. I caressed her hair, memorizing the feel of the strands between my fingers.

I kissed the top of her head. "Your tattoo, what is it?"

Danni tilted her head and peered up at me, smiling. Jesus, that smile. I'd never seen it in the cages, all I'd seen was torment. "You noticed it? I didn't think you had the chance."

"I took every chance to look at your hot ass, babe." I squeezed her to me and she rubbed her leg up my thigh and I groaned as my cock jerked. Fuck, I wanted to take her again, but I knew if I did, I'd never let her go.

"I was a bit of a rebel growing up. My mom died when I was ten and my dad . . . well, he wasn't around much." Her finger circled my nipple and my arm tightened on her hip. "Crying for freedom of expression, I guess, I dragged Anstice with me on my eighteenth birthday. It means nothing, really. Just something I designed." I'd only caught a flash of black ink on her and now I wanted to see it. Tattoos for Scars had a lot of meaning and one in particular—our Ink. A tattoo that could be called to life.

"Turn over." I tossed the covers back and she flipped onto her stomach, looking over her shoulder at me. She had this sassy cute look in her eyes that made my heart ache.

"My tattoo was my first real work of art. Can't sell it though. Funny that you have a similar one on your back."

My eyes trailed down her body to her ass. Then everything inside me froze. "Fuck." My heart pounded and there was a churning in my stomach. Holy shit, it was a tiger. A goddamn tiger.

"What? Something wrong with it?"

Shit. What the hell? One hell of a coincidence that my Ink was a tiger and Danni had a similar tattoo.

She flipped back over and crawled partially on top of me and kissed my chin. "What's wrong?"

I cleared my throat and got my shit back under control then weaved my fingers in her hair and met her eyes. "Nothing. It's . . . it's beautiful. That's all."

Her finger slid over my tattoo around my left bicep. An intricate design that combined the sun, moon, and a flying fish with lines that weaved and blended, making nothing appear as it was. My tattoo on the back of my right shoulder was a scaled dragon breathing fire, but the body was transforming into a hawk that was in a dive.

My Ink was on my lower back and I'd had it all my life. The tiger sat on its haunches as if waiting for something. Well, the tiger would have to wait a long time because I had no intention of letting my Ink loose. My tiger was unmanageable, deadly and would destroy any in its path. When I released it, my Ink devoured without consequence. Lucky for me, Talu—that was what I called it—was content to remain concealed until I called upon him. Unlike Damien's unstable Ink, which fought to rise every time Damien lost his temper, which was all the fuckin' time.

"I like this one." She lowered her head and kissed my bicep. "Do they mean anything?"

"No." Talu would never be called to rise when near Danni. What the fuck was I talking about? After tonight, I'd never see her again. Even if I was sentenced to Rest, she was mortal. She'd be dead by the time I rose. Because, sure as shit, if the Deaconry didn't kill me, they'd put me in Rest, a coma-like state, for a century. I tightened my hold on her and stared up at the ceiling. "Go to sleep, Danni."

I felt her eyes on me and the tension in her body, and knew what was coming. "Maybe one day you'll come back?"

"No. I'm not coming back."

She remained quiet for several minutes, our heartbeats matching in a slow, easy rhythm. "Balen?" she said with a husky whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for this," she said.

No one had ever told me _thank you_ in my entire life. Fuck, I didn't deserve her even for one night.

Her body relaxed, and she sighed as she snuggled into me and drifted off to sleep.

I remained awake, wanting to remember every second I held her in my arms, cement the memory.

At sunrise, I slipped from her arms, careful not to wake her. I watched her for a few minutes, memorizing every inch of her face.

"Goodbye, little one."

I STRODE INTO THE Deaconry room and approached the oblong marble table. Light blue candles shimmered from two oversized iron chandeliers that hung from above. Columns of white silk curtains draped along the far wall with paintings representing the four elements between.

I didn't bother removing my coat since feeling temperature in the realm was nonexistent. One was neither hot nor cold, something I valued about this place.

The four Elemental Wraiths remained in the realm of, what I referred to as, a fantasy land. Because what you saw was not always what it was. The Wraiths were creative when it came to their home. When entering the realm, it took time to adjust to the invariable blue haze that settled over your vision. Blue being a color of peace and calm, it was a favorite of the Wraiths, except Edan's, the volatile Wraith of Fire.

Genevieve walked into the room in long, graceful strides. She was the Wraith of Water and a powerful Healer for those of her kind. However, she rarely used her gift, since the Wraiths were seldom harmed. She had a fascination with the emotion of love, although she'd never been known to be linked to any man or woman. She was a bystander, allowing others to be spellbound by what I considered an illusion of love.

Genevieve's sophisticated beauty could bring a man to his knees. Inquisitive and yet diffident, her eyes sparkled a cerulean blue when calm and changed to a deep golden when distressed or angered.

I sensed an impish woman was beneath her apparent quiet nature. Despite knowing the Wraiths for three centuries, I didn't live among them and, therefore, I couldn't be definite as to what Genevieve was really like.

I approached the table and bowed my head, meeting the gaze of each Deaconry member. There were the four Wraiths, a witch, and then myself and Zurina on behalf of the Scars. There was one other that never attended any judgments—Azzurra, the Goddess who created us all.

The Wraiths had abilities to control certain aspects of nature. Their weakness was fighting against the evil in the human world, which was where the Scars came in.

My eyes met Mariana, the representative of the witches' covens, who sat at the far right of the table beside Edan. She wore a white, silk, double-breasted coat that clung to every curve of her voluptuous body. She had three dreadlocks on the right side of her brow line and the rest of her ebony hair hung long and straight, well past her shoulders. Her skin was alabaster, her eyes dark-walnut. She had narrow lips, which she loved to run her tongue across seductively. She excelled at reading emotions, even my own, which pissed me off, because I could block all others. But in the hundreds of years I'd known Mariana, she'd never once alluded to knowing what I was feeling. For that, the seductive witch had gained my respect. However, trusting any witch would be completely foolish.

I sat beside Zurina on the far left of the table. She smiled, and I bowed my head in return. She had a calm demeanor, with wisdom. Her strength spoke volumes as she had three of the senses—a Taster, Visionary, and Healer. She also had the gift of Tracing, like myself. Meaning she could teleport to places she'd previously been.

Flames flickered on pedestals in the four corners of the room. A fountain in the shape of a woman and man entwined in one another's arms stood in the center. In one hand, the man held a flame rising from his palm, and the woman had a flower tucked behind her ear. She had long, flowing hair that billowed around them as if it had been swept up by a gentle breeze. A stream of water flowed in an arc between their bodies into an eight-point, marble pool that had soft-pink pebbles on the bottom. The water from the spout was golden, but as it hit the pool, it became cerulean blue.

"For the excellence of nature, for the peace of all living, and for the good of the universe, we join together," Tor, the Wraith of Earth said in a raspy voice. A hint of cinnamon drifted into the air as he spoke. He changed scents every so often, but cinnamon was one of his favorites. I hated all the scents; cinnamon pissed me off the most.

Tor met each of our eyes, giving a nod in greeting, then paused on Genevieve. She in turn raised her slender hands toward the fountain and the water from the spout turned blue, matching that in the pool.

The meeting began.

Edan, Wraith of Fire, spoke first. He was explosive, quick-tempered, and rumored to burn a human when they did something that pissed him off—the burns, of course, were mild, more like a bothersome mosquito bite. "He drank vampire blood then fucked off for two years. This shit should've been finished years ago. He should be put in Rest or dead."

I fiddled with my candy dispenser in my right coat pocket. The thought of any Scar put to Rest pissed me off. Edan pissed me off. Rest was for the disloyal, the dangerous, and the few Scars who turned corrupt. Reliving your worst memories in a coma-like state was described as hell. But it was worse than that. It was a constant movie of your vilest thoughts being replayed until your sentence in Rest was over.

Tarek, Delara's ex-maite, deserved such a fate. Balen did not.

I had run out of options though. I'd fought the Deaconry over leaving Balen's fate in the hands of the Scars. But the law had been written by the Wraiths _and_ Scars. Balen drank vampire blood and was guilty. There was nothing more I could do, except try to coerce the others to give a lesser sentence.

Tor said, "We discuss the issue of Balen, a Scar Tracker of the Talde in Toronto." He glared at Edan and I suspected it was for speaking before the issue had been announced. Edan shrugged then leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "He drank the blood of Ryszard, a vampire. He betrayed Anstice, his blood sister and Healer. His fate is in the embrace of the Deaconry. Speak, Waleron, on behalf of your Scar."

I felt the uneasiness in the room—anger, sorrow, and uncertainty. Balen had betrayed his oath, but he'd also saved a human from slavery to a vampire.

Regardless, this wasn't going to be easy to convince them to be lenient. "Balen drank the blood of a vampire. That alone is cause for death. He invited Ryszard into the house of Trinity, witch of the coven in Toronto where our Healer, Anstice, was being hidden. But Balen did what no other has achieved. He drove the tainted vampire blood from inside him."

Urtzi, Wraith of Air, spoke, "Did he return by his own free will?" Urtzi's voice fluctuated according to his moods. When he was angry, his voice replicated a fingernail on a chalkboard and when he was in a good mood it was calm and soft like it was today.

I gave a curt nod. "Yes."

"And he fought the blood without harming humans?" Urtzi asked.

I nodded again. "As far as we are aware."

"Then we must take that into consideration." His blue-and-white streaked hair ruffled as he spoke and the air in the room shifted. "He also saved a human, a woman—Danielle—a friend of Anstice, and an innocent to the circumstances."

A fist slammed on the table and I didn't have to look to know it was Edan. Genevieve's breath hitched and her shoulders tensed.

"He broke the law," Edan shouted.

"Voice," Tor warned.

Edan glared at him, but lowered his tone. "It's simple. He broke his oath to protect his kind. You want to be lenient for protecting the girl, then Rest—two hundred years."

"The human, Danielle, would've become a slave if it wasn't for Balen," Zurina objected. Her golden hair was like a mane of an Andalusian horse, thick waves reaching the small of her back. She met Edan's scowl and smiled then winked at him. This was why she'd been chosen to sit on the Deaconry with me. She had a majestic strength that was respected by all.

"He also betrayed the witches by inviting Ryszard into their house," Mariana said.

The Scars and the Witches were on good terms as long as neither got in the others' way. On occasion, they assisted one another; however, some kind of payment was usually involved.

I had to do some smoothing over with Trinity. Jesus, I'd slept with her for a week for her visions in order to help find Balen and Danielle. It may have saved them, but what it had done to Delara . . . My grip tightened on my dispenser. I never regretted, damn it. I'd done what I had to do to save a Scar and a human. It was my oath. I had no choice.

"None were harmed," Zurina said. "Nor was Anstice or any of the Scars."

Tor was short, broad, muscular, and rarely smiled, which explained his void expression. "We all know what he has done. We've been over this a thousand times." He paused. "It has come to our attention that he has seen this Danielle. Has he revealed us to her?"

"No," I said. "He hasn't."

"I sense a connection between them," Tor continued. "He protects her."

"Yes." I'd hoped they hadn't been paying attention to Danni because a Scar becoming involved with a human would really piss them off.

I felt Genevieve shift in her high-backed chair and my eyes shot to her. She quickly looked away, lowering her gaze. What was that? "It's the law for Scars to protect humans," I reminded them.

Edan scoffed. "Fuck that, Waleron. You know damn well he protects this woman because he wants to fuck her."

I grit my teeth together and took a deep breath, trying to calm the rage that constantly lingered inside me. Edan was an unpredictable bastard and supposedly he was only agreeable when he had a woman in his bed.

"He loves her." Genevieve's voice was maple syrup-like—sweet and smooth.

"He feels guilt for what Ryszard did to her. That's not love, sugar," Edan retorted.

Zurina said, "A Scar can't be with a human, whether he loves her or not. Balen knows this."

"He also knows to not drink vampire blood," Edan shot back.

"I've felt the pull between them," Urtzi said.

"For fuck's sake," Edan muttered and sat back, shaking his head.

Urtzi had the ability to taste what was between humans. Depending on the emotion, his taste changed. Urtzi had previously told them that anger tasted vile. I compared it to rotten milk. If Urtzi tasted love—chocolate—it would be easier to convince him that Balen deserved to live.

Tor spoke. "This matter isn't about the woman, as Edan has so eloquently put it. Balen will be punished. We cannot allow him to walk free and resume his status as a warrior when he has become untrustworthy." He paused and looked to each of us. "However, he saved the life of a human, which is also our law. Therefore, this must be taken into account. I, Wraith of Earth, vote that Balen be sent to Rest for twenty years and exile for one hundred years."

Genevieve gasped and everyone's eyes darted to her, mine included. She quickly lowered her head and her hands gripped the edge of the table so tight her knuckles turned white.

Edan jumped on the reaction. "What's your deal, Genevieve?"

The water in the fountain began to bubble. Steam rose from the surface. Christ, she was panicking, and if someone didn't calm her, we'd all be immersed in a rainfall of water.

"I disagree," I said, keeping my eyes on the fountain. "Sent to Rest is harsh. No one was harmed by what he did." The water remained simmering like a pot of boiling water. "Balen has protected us for three centuries and is honorable. He was under great duress from the torture he suffered."

"Calm yourself, Genevieve," Urtzi said in a soothing tone. A cool breeze drifted across the room and through Genevieve's golden mane.

"What's with you?" Edan hated Genevieve, considered her weak and too sympathetic. My guess was that she refused to sleep with him.

I felt Zurina in my mind. _"She's hiding something."_

" _Yes,"_ I replied.

" _Perhaps she cares for Balen?"_

I doubted it. Genevieve's strength was emotions. Feeling the connection between Danni and Balen had to be difficult for her when she knew they would be separated. The water rose to the rim of the marble pool and Tor reached out and placed his hand on Genevieve's shoulder. He closed his eyes and the water slowly began to sink back down until the liquid lay quiet again.

"Waleron," Tor said. "What say you?"

I looked at each member of the Deaconry, the last being Edan, who raised his brows at me and had the nerve to mouth 'fuck you.'

I heard a crackle as the plastic of my candy dispenser in my pocket broke under my grip. "Balen is my responsibility. I failed him. I will take blame for what occurred." Murmurs rose among them and I raised my voice. "Decide my fate."

"Aw, fuck," Edan rolled his eyes. "Give me a break. Taking his punishment? Are you for real?"

"No," Tor said. He met my eyes and gave a nod of respect. "I understand your need to protect one of your own, but I cannot allow it. The CWOs are spreading. You're needed."

Mariana, who'd been uncommonly quiet, twirled her finger around one of her dreads. "The woman survived because of Balen. Commendation. But he did lead the vampire to the witches' coven. Rest for ten years and exile for one hundred years."

Urtzi sighed and the cool air exhaled from his mouth like a mist of rain. "I agree with Mariana."

I knew this was a lenient fate considering the Wraiths were predictable and never strayed from the laws. Balen broke it. Simple. Yet, I suspected I could push to get the sentence lessened even more.

I had to approach this tactfully. "His blood is pure. That alone shows his strength as a valuable Scar. One that is needed. As you just said, the Center World Others are spreading."

Edan slammed his fist onto the table. "Bullshit. He broke the law. We cannot pick and choose who isn't subject to the laws that were made for the benefit of us all."

Zurina placed her palms flat on the table. "None have been able to fight off the vampire blood before. Therefore, this situation is unusual. I agree with Waleron."

"You would," Edan muttered.

Tor raised his hand. "The law, as it stands, says that any who drink vampire blood must be killed. Balen lives." He nodded to me. "Your point is taken and Balen's strength is imposing. Therefore, losing him as a warrior for a century is detrimental to the Scars. Rest for ten years for his betrayal of his sister, and exile fifty years for breaking our law."

I knew what Tor offered was pretty damn lenient considering Balen must have pissed them off for dodging sentencing for two years. If I pushed any further, Edan and . . . I looked at Mariana—yes, she was annoyed with Tor's verdict—might argue the ruling.

" _I will fight this if you want,"_ Zurina said.

I hesitated. _"No. We push the issue, they'll retaliate. We must uphold the laws."_

I looked at Tor. "I'll consent to this."

Zurina and Urtzi also agreed. Edan swore a few times, but he knew he was outnumbered. He gave a curt nod and Mariana soon followed. Only Genevieve had to give her answer and she looked like she was going to pass out. Her face was almost translucent and her eyes were no longer blue, but a scintillating gold.

"Genevieve, we must have your consent," Tor said, being careful not to set her off again by keeping his voice gentle and calming.

"Come on, Gen, I have shit to do," Edan said.

"What?" Mariana asked. "A woman tied to your bed begging for mercy?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact." Edan glanced at me and cocked a half-grin. If Wraiths had sexual encounters it was never in the realm for obvious reasons, so what was he talking about in his bed? "A remarkable woman who begs for my touch and is willing to try anything once." He turned from me and his eyes travel across the length of Mariana. "Care to join us?"

"I don't sleep with men who have to tie up a woman in order for their submission."

Tor raised his voice above the banter. "Genevieve."

"Yes," she conceded. And then to my surprise, her body language changed. She straightened in her seat, her eyes widening with a delightful sparkle. A hint of a smile formed on her angelic lips. I'd give anything to be able to read what wheels were turning in her mind because something drastic had changed.

"Then it's decided," Tor said then turned to me. "Now, what of CWOs? Any progress?"

Wraiths were unable to touch the Center World Others. The numerous species came from the middle of the Earth, where they had lived for thousands of years. They had developed immunity to the Wraiths' powers. Our guess was that the minerals and heat from the center of the Earth protected them.

"Long Necks are banding with the vampires. It's under control for now, but the Grits are still a problem."

"Women are disappearing at a more alarming rate across the city," Zurina said.

Grits were difficult for the Scars to detect and when the Scars did find them, Grits were even more challenging to kill. They were arrogant, determined males who used their good looks to lure women to their beds. They survived by sucking the air from the lungs of a human, which extended their life.

"We'll assist human women with their senses," Urtzi offered. In other words, the Wraiths would heighten the humans' awareness of danger. Although I didn't think it would have much effect. The Grits were resilient, brutal, and were spreading across Europe and North America.

Tor nodded to Genevieve and the water in the fountain began to change to gold, indicating the meeting was over.

I quickly interjected. "What of Tarek? He rises from Rest soon."

"Yes," Tor said.

The water became blue again.

"He's dangerous and we need to re-evaluate his sentence." Every time I said his name, my Ink became unsettled. I put my hand on my neck where my snake tattoo was to hide the glowing red eyes from the others.

"He'll have served his time," Tor replied.

"Delara will be at risk," I kept my voice calm, but a mild tremor escaped as the roaring inferno raged inside me. I was uncertain if it was my Ink this time or the simple fact that I wanted to rip Tarek apart.

"Perhaps. We don't know what he'll be like after suffering Rest. Regardless, we do nothing, unless he breaks the law again," Tor said.

My gaze shot to Edan as I felt the Wraith's heat from across the table. What the hell was Edan's problem? His eyes were narrowed and his skin pulsed bright red.

"He almost killed her," I replied.

Tor nodded. "Yes. But we, including you, Waleron, passed judgment for what he did. When his punishment is complete, he's free. If he breaks the law again, then we'll interfere."

"He'll seek revenge on Delara for speaking against him." Jesus, I hated these meetings. The Wraiths didn't know how to bend on anything.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Tor replied.

"She's my responsibility. I won't wait until he kills her for a ruling."

Tor's fist pounded down on the table so hard the floor quaked. "You dare go against us? You may be powerful, but break the laws and you _will_ be judged. You are not immune, Waleron."

I tensed. My patience was gone; I clicked the lid open on my now damaged dispenser and slipped one of the white pills into my mouth. Screw this. I'd deal with Tarek myself. Tarek was a violent Scar and no amount of Rest was going to change that.

"You could ask Delara to be yours," Genevieve suggested.

Yeah, right. I was just as dangerous as Tarek.

Urtzi looked amused, his blue eyes dancing. "Like that would ever happen."

"He deserves death for what he did to her," Genevieve stated. I remembered that she had fought hard for the Deaconry to sentence Tarek to death.

"Enough!" Edan shouted. "This meeting is over."

Tor agreed and nodded to Genevieve.

I went to object when the water from the fountain changed back to golden. To speak after the water had changed was unheard of.

Tor stood then closed his eyes and vanished into a cloud of red dust. Urtzi followed behind in a gust of wind, and Edan a red fireball of light. With a simple tug on one of her dreadlocks, Mariana left too.

Genevieve slowly came to her feet and walked over to me. "You care for Delara." It was a statement.

"I protect all the Scars," I replied.

"Yes, but some more than others. Delara has found another, and now, she is no longer yours. That is your mistake."

What the hell was she talking about? A cold wash of dread blanketed my skin. "Who?"

"You don't deserve to know." She put her hands together above her head and her seductive body glowed blue then swirled into a mist of water before disappearing.

THE GUYS DIDN'T LOOK surprised to see me when I arrived at the Talde house. Keir, Damien, Jedrik, and Hack stood in the foyer and each nodded in greeting. However, none said anything. Well, Damien didn't nod, he glared. But I expected a cold reception. Shit, I'd betrayed them then fucked off.

Waleron appeared within seconds of me walking into the house and, without saying anything, he went directly into the library. Everyone followed. Then Waleron slammed the door closed.

In his usual fashion, the Taldeburu was unemotional and direct. "Rest for ten years and exile for fifty years in the Pyrenees Mountains."

Coldness sank into me. I'd known this was coming, yet still, being sent to Rest seriously sucked. "Our law must be changed." I looked to each of the Scars. "I've proven that consuming vampire blood doesn't mean we'll become one of them."

Keir raised his brows. "You challenge the law?"

"Fuck yeah. And since I'll be in Rest, I ask that the law be taken to the Deaconry by one of you."

"I second that," Jedrik said, as he leaned back on the couch, legs outstretched, and ankles crossed. "Always wanted to go to the Deaconry and meet that hot Wraith, Genevieve."

Waleron shot Jedrik a warning glower. "No Scar may enter the Deaconry, as you very well know. The law was put in place for good reason. A vampire's blood is powerful and its effects are deadly. You may have been able to withstand its poison, but no other has in hundreds of years."

"Then contain them," Jedrik suggested. "Until they fight it off or don't. At least, they have a chance that way."

"Fuck that. No warrior should drink the fuckin' poison in the first place." Damien scowled at me, his stance stiff and unbending. _Yeah, no one likes you, asshole._ Jedrik nicknamed him women-hater and he was. Damien was a volatile, cold bastard who didn't give a crap about anyone but himself. "You betrayed us. You should be dead."

Jedrik leapt from the couch and went for Damien. Keir grabbed Jedrik, threw him to the ground, and twisted his arm behind his back. "Leave it."

Damien was among the most lethal warriors, with little patience and even less mercy. He'd already been sent to Rest a few years ago for beating up another Scar and nearly killing him. Unstable, dangerous, and now he'd have it out for Jedrik.

"I'll bring it up at the next Deaconry meeting, but I suspect nothing will change," Waleron said. "It's time."

Rest sucked. But it was better than dead. I nodded.

Jedrik sighed. "Sorry, man. This friggin' blows big time."

I shrugged. I deserved worse for my betrayal.

I'd returned to Toronto knowing what I faced. But leaving Danni . . . Jesus, everything in me was screaming to stay near her, but I'd already done enough damage to those I cared about. Images of Danni swirled in my mind, of last night, of her in my arms moaning my name. My cock deep, thrusting into her and feeling her clench around me.

The door burst open.

All eyes turned toward it. Delara stood like a warrior ready for battle. She wore all black, leather boots climbing up her calves to her knees with tight black jeans. Her flashing walnut eyes narrowed as she met each man's stare. "Balen saved Danni's life. I saw what she suffered when we rescued her. We all did." She turned to me. "You sacrificed yourself knowing you'd be killed for drinking Ryszard's blood. But that's why we're here, to protect the humans."

"This is bullshit. The decision is not yours, Delara," Damien growled. "It's been decided."

Delara met Damien head on. "You're being a dick. Just because your sorry ass has been sent to Rest doesn't mean others deserve the same fate. And obviously sending you to Rest did nothing for your shitty personality."

Waleron stood three feet away from Delara and his eyes hadn't left her since the moment she appeared. Cold and calculating. His expression looked as if he were fighting a rage that had enveloped every molecule. "But Damien is right. The Deaconry has made their decision, Delara."

"Obviously, you didn't fight hard enough. Appeal it." Delara cocked her hip and placed her hand on it.

Jedrik was staring at Delara, his mouth agape. Guess he hadn't known she was back. "Delara? What the hell? Where have you been?"

Delara ignored Jedrik and remained staring at Waleron. A bolt of lightning couldn't break their magnetic stare apart.

"Delara. In private," Waleron said.

Shit, Delara had to be blocking him from her mind, otherwise they'd have all the privacy they needed using telepathy. That had to be pissing Waleron off even more.

Her brows rose. "No, thanks. And anything I have to say can be said in front of the Talde."

I noticed Waleron's hands clench, matching his jaw. His lips pursed and the books on the shelf behind Keir began to jiggle. The bar on the far side of the room shook and the air grew warm, as if Waleron's rage was heating the oxygen. "Delara," Waleron ground out.

"I demand an appeal. And if you don't ask for one, then I will."

Silence.

I was surprised to find her mind was open to me as I spoke to her. _"What are you doing? He's furious, back off before he puts you in Rest, Delara."_

" _Danni was tortured, and you protected her despite knowing the consequences. You don't deserve Rest. But, there's something else. If you're put in Rest, then something bad will happen to Danni."_

" _What the hell are you talking about?"_ My chest tightened and my heart started pounding wildly.

Delara's gaze shifted to Waleron, and her expression hardened. _"That's why I'm here, Balen. I wouldn't have returned otherwise. If Waleron puts you in Rest, Danni will die."_

"What the fuck?" I shouted and all eyes turned to me.

Delara grunted and rolled her eyes. Obviously, she hadn't intended for the others to know that we'd been speaking to one another.

Shit, Waleron looked livid. Facing his wrath was not on anyone's list of things to do in an immortal lifetime. "Now! Delara." Without a word, Waleron walked from the room. Delara glanced at me then followed.

"Don't ever disobey me again." Waleron's voice was tight, restrained—deadly.

Okay, he was pissed. I'd overstepped. But damn it, I wanted to hurt Waleron the way I was hurting.

Fuck, I should've never come back. But, this time it wasn't my choice, and defying the order was not in my best interest, nor was it in Balen and Danni's.

"You send him to Rest, Danni will die." I tried to keep my voice steady, but being anywhere near Waleron when he was this pissed off put a quake in it. I had to leave here before my heart, which I'd spent years repairing, broke again. I couldn't do it. Couldn't live like this being around him all the time.

"You mean she'll kill herself?"

"No. I mean she'll suffer and then die."

"Stop playing games, Delara. And lower your block."

I'd never let him read my thoughts again. It would be like allowing him to strip me naked, fuck me, and then have him walk away. Screw that. "If Balen is sent to Rest, she'll die. If he is exiled, depending on the distance, she'll suffer every minute he is away from her."

"What are you talking about?" Waleron's stance shifted and he crossed his arms over his chest.

As soon as the punishment had been passed on Balen, I'd had a visitor and found out what had been done. It was bad. Shit, it was worse than bad. "She's human. She can't survive if he is away from her. I can't tell you how I know this, but you're going to have to trust me." Yeah, swearing to keep the culprit under wraps sucked, but blackmail spoke volumes. I had no intention of letting anyone know where the hell I'd been spending my nights recently.

"That trust left the day you walked away from us, Delara." Waleron's eyes roamed over my body and my breath hitched. Why did he have to look at me as if he wanted to fuck me and destroy me at the same time?

"Don't do it, Tac." I called him that because he was tactical about everything he did since he'd come back from the hell he'd been in. Shit, he was even tactical about breathing.

"Who is responsible?" Waleron began pacing and I shifted uneasily. He rarely paced. He was always steady as a mountain. Well, the mountain was having an avalanche right now and I was sitting at the bottom.

_Okay, lie when you have to._ "I don't know." I tried to keep my eyes directed on him, but within seconds, I was looking away from his intensity.

"Who?" Waleron repeated.

He was pounding on the door of my mind. If he broke the barrier down, he'd find out who told me and I'd be in serious trouble. "I . . . I . . ." Goddamn Waleron was forcing me to tell the truth. I fought his power, a struggle of minds he'd soon win.

A sudden sharp pain bolted through my body and I staggered, falling to my knees and breaking Waleron's mental hold.

"What the hell?" he said.

He went to reach down and help me, but I quickly leapt to my feet. Waleron's touch would heighten his ability to get into my mind and I couldn't let that happen.

_Okay, get this done and leave._ "If you care at all for Balen and Danni, then you're going to have to trust me." I put my hand to my head as I felt the push on my mind and it wasn't Waleron doing it. The push was debilitating, and I winced as I lowered my block. Heat seeped into my body, and then he spoke to me.

" _I don't like that asshole near you."_

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Waleron grabbed my arm, his fingers bruising.

"I . . . I have to go." His eyes flashed red, and then my eyes drifted to his neck where his snake tattoo sat. It was uncoiling—fuck. "Let me go, Waleron. You've been quite eager to do it before. It's the same process."

His eyes narrowed and his hand dropped from my arm. "Are you in trouble?"

_A whole hell of a lo_ t. "Don't put him in Rest."

I turned and walked to the front door.

"I can force you to stay."

"Yes." My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. "But Tarek did that already and look what happened." I knew that would get to him and from the low hiss of his snake tattoo—his Ink—it had. Waleron was feeling—what a concept.

"Stay," Waleron said, "because I ask it of you."

Oh, God. I closed my eyes, fingernails digging into my pants leg.

I opened the front door and a cold breeze gusted into me, pushing me back a step into his warm, hard chest. He stood stiff, unmoving.

"Delara." He whispered my name like a fingertip drifting across my skin.

Love me like I know you can. If you love me, I can survive what I have done. Just tell me, my love.

But he never made a move to touch me and I walked away. Again, he let me go.

Waleron strode back into the living room looking pissed as hell, but there was also a flicker of uncertainty I'd never witnessed in my Taldeburu. He looked directly at me, eyes steady, although he hesitated as if he was contemplating what to do. Delara was gone.

"Exile, in the Pyrenees mountains until an appeal is heard," Waleron announced.

My brows lifted with surprise. What the hell? Obviously, Delara's arguments had done some good. Exile was certainly better than Rest. If whatever Delara was saying was true, then Danni would be safe. Thank fuck, because I knew if I'd lost it and physically fought being put in Rest, then Waleron would have easily killed me, and then I could do fuck all to help Danni.

"But the—" Jedrik began.

"I'll deal with the Wraiths," Waleron said. "Let's go."

I always knew Danni and I were an impossible match, even if I hadn't broken our law. She was human and I was an immortal Scar. Shit like that didn't happen.

Keir approached me and held out his hand. I hesitated, surprised by the gesture. "My girl wishes to know her brother. When this is over, I expect you to make that happen."

I nodded, but it was a lie because I knew, I'd never return here.

THE PAIN UPON WAKING and finding him gone sucked, but after a few hours it was as if my emotions were in a blender with the shredding blade going full tilt. Emptiness was a desolate emotion, and, sure as shit, I felt it. God, was it possible to have physical pain when you were emotionally hurting? My stomach was killing me, and my head pounded as if I were hung over after a night of mixing rye, tequila, and beer.

I moaned and lay back in bed, feeling like I was going to pass out. Sensations pumped through my body. My heart raced. I was sweating, and anxiety built with each breath I took. I groaned as my stomach cramped, and then . . . _Oh, crap._ I vaulted from bed, diving for the bathroom just in time to spew the contents of my breakfast into the toilet.

It had to be the flu or something. Probably, the stress of everything that had happened over the last few days had brought it on.

I washed my face then looked in the mirror. My skin was a pasty color and there were dark circles under my eyes. The last time I had the flu was in grade school, when Bobby Fradkin passed the virus to half the class.

I swallowed three ibuprofen, brushed my teeth, and then had to kneel over the toilet to throw up again. So much for the drugs taking any effect. Makeup was going to be my best friend today.

I was sweating profusely by the time I put on my eyeliner, and from the shit job I did, I looked worse than before.

I stared at myself in the mirror. "God, Balen, why do I feel like . . . like I need you here." It was fucking with my head, the emotions, the feeling as if I was falling over the edge of a cliff, waiting to land smack on the hard pavement.

"Damn it." I slowly sank to floor, brought my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them.

What the hell was wrong with me? I barely knew this guy and yet . . . Jesus, I was crazy. It felt like I was dying and it was because he wasn't with me.

I'd survived on my own without a mother, with a father who struggled to support us with his constant state of depression. He'd died the day my mother had. He was just a shell of existence until he blew his brains out.

I'd fought against the odds and made it as an artist without help, without anyone. So why did I need this man so much it hurt? Why was I falling apart?

Splat meowed and pawed at my leg. "God, Splat, I can't even stomach the thought of eating, and you want me to open a can of your disgusting, smelly chunks and gravy."

Bed. I had to lie down for a few hours. The gallery would have to stay closed today. Whatever I'd come down with wasn't going away anytime soon.

I made it halfway across the room then stopped. I stared at the bed where Balen had been last night. Shivers gripped my body and I rubbed my arms up and down. I'd never believed in premonitions, but . . . Coldness swept through my veins as dread shadowed my mind.

Pain.

Death.

I staggered backward, tears trickling down my checks. I gasped as a razor-sharp pain gripped my insides so intense it was like someone ripped me open with a knife.

I collapsed to the floor.

Then darkness.

"Something's wrong with her." I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood. "We have to go back."

Waleron remained lying back in his seat, eyes closed. "We're too far away. It's impossible for you to pick up on her."

I paced the length of the private jet, raking my hand through my hair. Bullshit, it was Danni. She was in pain. Sick. Jesus, I could feel her pain with every breath.

"No, it's her, for Christ's sake." I knew my abilities were incapable of picking up a scent from this distance. It made no sense, but, fuck logical—it was her.

Waleron opened his eyes and I could feel him pushing at my mind. "It's impossible."

I stopped pacing. "Screw impossible. She's in trouble."

My words had no effect on Waleron; instead, the guy sat in his seat, expressionless with arctic eyes watching me. I wished like hell I could read the man's mind, because right now Waleron appeared like he didn't give a crap if Danni died.

Someone was bloody well going to get their ass over to her place. We were too far for telepathy, so I reached for the phone on the back of one of the seats. As soon as my hand touched the surface, I felt a zap of electricity pierce my body. I abruptly turned to Waleron. "Damn it. Don't be a coldhearted bastard for once in your fuckin' life."

"You need to calm down before I put you in DP." Waleron picked up the phone.

I cursed under my breath, but shut up. Deep Sleep was a state of unconsciousness and only Taldeburu's and a rare few other Scars were capable of it.

Suddenly, all emotions I was receiving from Danni evaporated. My chest caved into a black oblivion as panic surged through my body.

"No," I roared. I clenched my jaw as my insides coiled as if ready to explode into a million pieces. _Danni._

"Keir says Anstice is sleeping, recovering from healing Jedrik. He had a run-in with a Long Neck an hour ago. Damien will go to the gallery."

"Damien? The guy's an asshole. And he hates women." Of all people, he had to be the biggest jerk in the history of Scars. Okay, supposedly Kilter was the worst, but I'd never met him and hated forming opinions without knowing for myself. "We have to go back," I said.

Waleron reached in his front coat pocket and pulled out the familiar duck head candy dispenser. The click sounded and a white pill popped out into his hand. He slipped it into his mouth. "You've been deemed guilty for your crimes by the Deaconry. They'll be pissed off over my disregard for not putting you into Rest. If we ignore exile, they'll retaliate with death."

"I'll take the risk."

Waleron's jaw tightened and eyes narrowed.

My breathing became deep and ragged. I felt the disquiet seep through my body like nails being driven into my skin. Waleron looked too calm and accepting of what was happening. Like he knew—

"What did Delara tell you? Why didn't you put me into Rest? Is it true? Would Danni have died? What the hell is going on?"

"My decisions aren't any of your concern."

"If it has anything to do with Danni, it fuckin' does." I tried to calm the fear mixed with rage. I needed Waleron to get the pilots to turn the plane around, and pissing him off was not going to help. "Whatever Delara said to change your mind and risk the wrath of the Deaconry has to be damn important, otherwise you'd never go against them. But right now, all I care about is Danni, and if she is harmed, I'll be the most pissed-off Scar you've ever encountered."

Waleron's voice lowered and the snake tattoo on the side of his neck twitched. "Are you threatening me?"

I made a low growl in my throat. "It's not a fuckin' threat. It's what will happen."

It was the wrong thing to say, and yet, I felt as if everything was slipping away—even Danni. "Her scent is gone. It's like . . . she's . . ." I couldn't say the word. "I can't lose her." I sank down into one of the leather seats and put my head in my hands.

"You'll lose her anyway. She's human and mortal."

I stiffened, hating to hear the truth.

The phone rang and Waleron answered. Few words were spoken on Waleron's part, and then he hung up.

He met my eyes, cold and indifferent. "Damien's with her," Waleron said. "She's ill. He believes it is the flu of some kind."

Flu? Bullshit. It was different than the flu. I had to get back to her.

"Damien will stay with her until Anstice recovers enough to go over there," Waleron said.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

I had no time to react or respond to the scowling guy with the severe features standing beside my bed as a wave of nausea hit me. He swore beneath his breath then held out the garbage can from my bathroom. I leaned over and dry heaved into it then spat.

I noticed the tattoo that marked the back of his hand, which traveled up his arm then disappeared under his white T-shirt. He had jet black hair, square jaw, and eyes that held no sympathy in their dark depths. A jagged scar ran across his left cheek, which twitched and made his glower scarier. What the hell was a muscled up, pissed off Neanderthal doing in my bedroom, holding a garbage can for me to puke in?

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get in here?" By the looks of him, the latter I expected wasn't an issue for him. I did feel pretty helpless with no weapon, except a stupid garbage pail, and I'm sure he'd laugh his ass off if I attempted to hit him with it.

"Name's Damien. Anstice sent me."

Should've known. He looked like one of Keir's friends. Actually, come to think of it, so did Balen. A thumping pain hit my head and I put my hands over my ears and groaned. "Shit." I pointed my finger at the door. "Get . . . Out."

He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell and dialed.

I could hear it ringing and ringing until finally I heard a soft, groggy voice. "Speak to your friend," he said and abruptly thrust the phone in my direction. I yanked it from him and he continued to glare at me.

"I don't want to talk to you. And how the hell did you know I wasn't feeling well? More secrets?"

"I tried calling and texting you a thousand times and you didn't answer," Anstice replied. "Damien was over your way, so I asked him to stop by the gallery. I told him where the key was hidden because I was worried."

"Well, I don't like him." I heard a snort and looked up at Damien who muttered ditto. "I have the flu, so I didn't open the gallery today. You can tell the Neanderthal to leave."

"I'm coming over to check on you."

"No. I don't want to see you."

"Too bad," Anstice replied. "See you soon." Before I could respond the line went dead.

I pressed the End button and passed the cell back to Damien. "You can leave now."

"Yeah, that's not happening," he said and pocketed his cell.

I was about to argue when a sharp cramp hit my stomach. I leaned back against the headboard, closing my eyes as I felt a drip of sweat trickled down my forehead to my cheek.

"You look like shit."

"No fuck, Sherlock," I said while clenching my teeth. "You're a real genius."

"Listen, baby doll, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here, so cut the sarcasm and we'll be able to tolerate one another until Anstice gets here. I do have more important shit to do."

"Then leave. I'm not stopping you. And call me baby doll one more time and I'll—" A spasm of pain sliced into my abdomen and I curled my legs up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Jesus. It had to be food poisoning.

I thought he was leaving when he started walking away. Instead, he disappeared into my bathroom and I could hear him shuffling through my cupboards. The sound of my things falling into the sink pierced my ears, and I raised my hands to cover them.

"Take these," Damien said, now standing beside the bed.

I couldn't speak any longer, so he placed three tiny white pills in my mouth and poured water down my throat. I coughed and sputtered, water dripping down my chin, and then I began tossing again, clutching my stomach as the pain became continuous.

Maybe I was dying. I thought I heard a phone ring minutes later, but deciphering sounds become too much to bear. I closed my eyes and slipped into the darkness of my mind.

" _Let me out!" I gripped the bars of the iron cage. "Jesus Christ, get me the hell out of here."_

I yanked on the door. It rattled but refused to give way. The cage was hoisted three stories in the air, dangling by a chain that was attached to the ceiling of some sort of cave.

Shit, I was underground. In a goddamn cage like an animal.

I peered down at two men standing beside a steel table. The room was dark, except for an enormous stone fireplace that gave off an orange glow.

I heard a grunt and my eyes went back to the table. Oh, God—a man was shackled there.

" _Who the hell are you people?" I yelled. "What do you want?" Neither man paid attention to me._

The last thing I remembered was a group of men grabbing me in the alley. Anstice? What happened to Anstice? And Keir? He was being attacked and then . . . nothing.

I paced the five-by-five-foot cage, my fear escalating. Who the hell were these psychos? Shit, what did they want from me? Some fetish they wanted to live out. God, I prayed not.

A loud crack sounded.

I scrambled to the side of the cage and grabbed the bars, looking down. My eyes widened, and then I screamed, horror ripping through me. Oh, God. No. Jesus. No. A sledgehammer came crashing down on the man's leg again and again.

They were torturing a man. I wanted to look away, but I was frozen, staring at him. His eyes were open and he didn't even flinch as the sledgehammer came down on him. Was he dead already? How could he just lie there?

Was I next?

I staggered backward, my spine banging into the bars. I had to get out of here. But there was no escape, even if I managed the impossibility of getting through the bars. I was twenty feet in the air with nothing to break my fall if I jumped. I covered my ears as the crack came again.

Crack.

The man grunted.

Crack.

A groan.

Laughter.

" _Stop! Stop it," I screamed._

I slid down the cage bars to my butt and curled my legs up to my chest, put my hands over my ears, and rocked back and forth. Tears leaked from my eyes as the reality of what I faced came hurtling at me.

Whoever these men were, they enjoyed the suffering. They were laughing. Oh, God. What would they do to me? What did they want? Why were they doing that to him?

My head snapped up. Chains clanged as another cage was hoisted upward. I scrambled to my feet and looked down again.

A man dressed in all black cranked a lever and another man walked across the room and then disappeared behind a pillar. I heard the creak of a door opening and closing.

The cage came to a swinging halt a foot away from mine. I sucked in air as I saw the man they'd tortured lying on the metal floor, his leg in an odd position. His jeans were ripped; his black T-shirt was torn across his chest where blood seeped from two deep gashes. The scream inside my throat pulsated, threatened to emerge at the horrific sight. I swallowed several times, trying to keep the vomit from rising.

" _Mister. Hey, mister."_

His broad shoulders jerked and his head shifted to the side, his eyes still closed, his face pale and haggard. God, how long had he been here? I heard the sound of water crawl through pipes and then watched as it trickled into a device on top of his cage. It sprayed water onto him, and then stopped. A few minutes later it sprayed again.

The man groaned as he pulled himself up to lean against the bars of the cage. He used his hands to pull his mangled leg to a more normal position.

" _Oh, God, what have they done to you?"_

His eyes flashed open. I trembled as the sharp green irises met mine. They were dark and tortured, fierce like a wild animal ready to attack. His lips pursed together and his sharp angular jaw clenched. He looked like he was mentally ready for battle, but his body was so ravaged with pain that his muscles refused to cooperate. He had tattoos running the length of his muscular arms. Actually, he was muscular all over. If we weren't in such a fucked up scenario right now, I'd say the guy was hot. Like badass hot, but from the looks of him now, the guys below were trying to break any badass he had in him.

" _What do they want from us?"_

His eyes locked on mine, watching, steady and calm. The men torturing him hadn't broken him yet. "Pain," he said.

My heart pounded faster, harder, and the nausea swirled inside like a tornado threatening to sweep across me and take any sanity I had left. "Why? I don't even know who these psychos are."

His head tilted to the side and I gasped when I saw the ravaged area on his neck. My hand went to the bruise just below my right ear. His smile was cruel, eyebrows rising as he watched my reaction.

" _Yeah, blood too," he said._

I ran to the corner of the cage, fell to my knees, and vomited. I had a will of iron, but that had burned right through it.

His voice was deep and ragged as he continued, "They've no feelings, no remorse. And . . ."

I wiped my mouth with my arm and turned my head. "What?" I had to know. I needed to know what they'd do to me.

" _He'll never give up until he has what he wants," he said._

" _And what does he want? I've never seen these bastards in my life."_

" _A woman. A powerful woman who will make him stronger." He ran a hand over his face, wiping the water away. "You?" He shrugged and then grunted at the slight motion. "I don't know what he wants with you."_

I kept on my knees and slid across the metal floor until I was closer to him. "How long have you been here? Who are they?"

He remained silent, eyes delving into mine, scanning down my body and then back up to my face. A throbbing rose in my head as if his magnificent eyes were drilling into it. Then suddenly it stopped.

" _A week maybe, not sure. Time tends to get away from you here." He ran his hand through his wet umber hair. "Don't fight him."_

" _Are you crazy? The first chance I get, I'm getting out of here." He scowled and I nodded to the device that sprayed him. "Why the water?"_

He stayed silent.

I saw the pain in his features, his brows lowering, eyes closing, and the lines in his face accentuating. "Are you okay? I mean, I know you're not with what they did to you. How can you still be conscious?"

" _Do not fight him," he repeated. "If you do, it'll be worse."_

" _Fuck that. You might just sit and take what's dished out, but I sure as hell won't. One chance, that's all I need, and I'm out of here."_

" _A chance you will never get." He laid his head back against the bars and closed his eyes._

I sat and wrapped my arms around my legs. I hated the silence, the sparks of the fire below the only sound in the underground hell. "What's your name?"

" _Balen."_

" _I'm Danielle—Danni. These bastards grabbed me walking back from dinner with my friend. I think it was the same guys who were attacking this guy my friend is dating." I heard him curse beneath his breath. I thought he said, "I'm so screwed," but it was too muttered to be certain. "Are these guys wanted by the police? Are they at least looking for us?"_

He huffed.

" _What's that supposed to mean?"_

" _The police will never come to your rescue, little one," he said._

" _Don't call me that."_

He opened his eyes, head rolling to the side so he could look at me. "You're little compared to me." Well, yeah, he looked over six feet. "And delicate."

Delicate? I hadn't been called that since my father had died. Even though I was this rebellious, smartass kid who spoke her mind, my father refused to admit his daughter was anything but his delicate rose. My mouth had managed to get me into all kinds of trouble in school.

" _Hey, Balen, when I escape, I'll get the police to come get you. Don't think I'm just going to leave you here."_

" _You won't escape." He sighed. "Fuck, maybe if we're lucky, others will find us, but without their help, we won't ever escape this place."_

" _God, you're negative." I shook my head. I was beginning to feel better just talking to this guy. At least my stomach had settled. Normality. That was all I needed, some sort of normality. "Can't you have some hope? I mean, people get out of bad situations all the time. All we need is one mistake and—"_

" _You don't get it. They aren't normal." He pounded his fist against the floor of his cage and the metal vibrated._

Footsteps.

I scrambled to my feet and gripped the bars as I peered down. It was that man, the one who held the sledgehammer. He strode across the stone floor as if he were floating. Calm, confident, and tall, with long black hair that reached past his shoulders. He gave a single nod to the man at the cranking device and then his head tilted up and our eyes met. Red. His eyes were red. God, what the hell kind of drugs was he on? I lost my footing as my cage began to lower.

Fear pounded through me. I looked at Balen and he was gripping the bars, eyes intense and dark, almost black.

" _Do as I say. Don't fuckin' fight. Understand? He likes the fight. He enjoys seeing it. It only makes it worse."_

" _I can't."_

" _Damn it, Danni. Don't try to escape,"_

" _I have to try." He might be unable to walk, but I sure as hell could and I'd fight to my death if need be. No way in hell were these assholes getting me without a fight._

The cage jerked to a halt as it settled on the floor. I kept my eyes riveted to the guy who looked like the one making all the calls. He stood with his hands behind his back in a casual stance beside the metal table. I shivered at the sight of his red eyes gleaming with the firelight. Shit, he looked strong.

My eyes darted to the man who unlocked the padlock on the cage and the door swung open. The smell of black licorice barreled into me. I'd smelled it before when they'd taken me.

He reached out to grab my arm.

" _Keep your filthy hands off me." I jerked away, and looked around for something, anything to use as a weapon. If I could get by him and—_

His eyes narrowed and he shot forward, gripping my forearm and dragging me out of the cage. Screw this. I reacted, kicking him in the shin. Then I swung my arm and plowed my fist into his chest.

His fingers tightened and I winced as his nails dug into my flesh. "Let me go, damn it."

He had no reaction as he pulled me toward the table. Shit, this wasn't working out as planned. I renewed my effort as he shoved me against the steel table. I cried out as my hips rammed up against the hard surface. I placed my palms on the table and kicked out both legs. He grunted as my legs hit him in the stomach, but he didn't let go.

Suddenly, I felt something cold wrap around my left wrist from behind, and a chuckle emerged from the other guy.

" _It's useless to fight, Danielle. If I desired, I could have you at my mercy with my voice alone." He shrugged. "However, I like to see you struggle. It's rather amusing."_

Within seconds, I was lying on my back, shackled to the table with one hand above my head and my legs spread apart. "Let me go, you son of a bitch."

" _A fighter. It will be such a pleasure to tame you."_

I punched the lackey in the face as he struggled to get a manacle on my other wrist. He finally managed to grab hold of my arm and yanked it above my head and latched it down. I breathed hard as I continued to fight the unrelenting bonds, oblivious to the cuts surfacing on my wrists and ankles.

" _I'm Ryszard," the asshole, sledgehammer wielding guy said. "And you . . . are magnificent when you fight like that." He lowered his hand to my neck and I jerked my head side to the side, trying to avoid his touch. He had long, sharp fingernails, which pierced my skin._

He squeezed my windpipe.

My limbs strained against the bonds, body flailing as I struggled to breathe. As soon as he loosened his grip, I sucked air into my lungs as hard and fast as I could.

His brows rose. "Breath is life, Danielle. I can take it away in a second."

" _Fuck you." I spat at him, just missing his cheek. His hand came down, slapping me across the face. I gritted my teeth, refusing to allow him any satisfaction at seeing my pain. Then he smiled and the terror was like a bullet slamming into my chest._

Fangs. The bastard had fucking fangs.

I screamed, my struggles wild and my mind and body gripped with madness. Blood trickled down my wrists and ankles, metal sliced into my skin. I saw him lick his lips, his grin widening. Oh, God, this guy had more than a few screws loose. Balen's words haunted my mind. Don't fight. How could I do that when all I wanted to do was get free?

" _Don't do this." I knew what he was going to do. Knew his intent with those fangs. "God, no."_

" _But I must, sugar. You're too tempting to resist."_

I screamed.

"DANIELLE . . . DANNI, WAKE UP."

My eyes flew open and my hand went to my neck. He had fangs. He was going to bite me. I shivered uncontrollably, my mind reeling with the images of the cages, the torture—the unimaginable.

Balen.

Anstice sat on the edge of the bed, tears in her eyes as she stoked my hair. "You were having a nightmare, sweetie. You okay?"

No. Fuck, no.

A large shadow stood over in the corner of the room, arms crossed as he leaned up against the wall. "Balen?" His head turned—Keir. My heart dropped and I closed my eyes, wrapping the blanket up around myself to try and stop the trembling.

He'd been there. Balen had been trapped in a cage, tortured by that man—Ryszard. The agony he must have suffered. How could he have recovered from something like that? His leg. His leg had been mangled, yet he didn't even have a limp now.

"How are you feeling?" Anstice kept her tone a whisper as if she knew my head was still throbbing. But it wasn't from pain, it was from trying to decipher memories that were all fucked up. It felt like an explosion of my brain was imminent. Thankfully, the cramping in my stomach was gone.

"How long have I slept?"

"Six hours," Anstice replied.

"Six hours?" Holy shit. "Where's that other guy?"

"Damien?"

"Yeah, the asshole."

Keir chuckled then covered it up by clearing his throat.

"He's gone. He's a friend of Keir's and was only here visiting. He needed to catch his flight back to Florida. How's your stomach?" Anstice asked.

"Fine. A few ibuprofen and I'll be good." A lie of course. I knew nothing would be the same again.

"I think you should stay with us for a little while." Anstice felt my forehead with the back of her hand.

She glanced over at Keir and he shook his head, scowling. They were still hiding shit from me. So much for friendship.

Anstice sighed. "Keir thinks we should take you to the hospital. They'll do some tests and—"

Like hell I was going to the hospital. "Balen. The guy from my painting." I sat up, clutching the blanket to my chest. "He was with me. He was there, Anstice. We were in cages and he was tortured. Ryszard . . . That's who kidnapped me. We have to go to the police."

Anstice jerked away as if she'd been burned. "Oh, God."

My eyes narrowed, watching her. What the hell? Why was she so freaked over finally getting some answers?

"I'll carry you to the car." Keir approached the bed and Anstice got up, avoiding my eyes.

"No. I don't need a hospital. I need Balen. He came to see me and—"

"No," Keir interrupted.

"I need you to find him."

"No, sweetie," Anstice said. "Balen's in Spain. Let's get the doctors to check you—"

What the fuck? "You _know_ him? You know Balen? The man in my paintings?" It all made sense. Anstice hating the paintings. Never wanting to talk about the 'episode.' Balen finding me at Anstice's the other night. How did Anstice know him? Did she know Balen had been kidnapped with me?

Anstice drew back from the bed, hand covering her mouth.

"Abby and now Balen? How do you know him?" I asked between clenched teeth. "Anstice, I swear if you don't tell me, you're no longer my friend."

Silence.

I grabbed my lamp, ready to throw it at her, when Anstice said, "Balen's my brother."

"Fuck." Keir turned away and stalked over to the window then back again.

Anstice ignored him and continued. "I couldn't tell you. I . . . Danni, I thought I'd never see him again. I swear, I wanted to tell you, but Waleron—"

"Your goddamn brother? You let me wallow in hell for two goddamn years, looking at my paintings, and he's your fuckin' brother?" I threw the lamp across the room. The bulb busted and shattered on the hardwood floors. "Get out. Do you hear me, Anstice? Leave. I don't know who the hell you are anymore."

Anstice closed her eyes, staggering backward. Keir hooked his arm around her waist. I felt so betrayed that the pain in my head was nothing compared to the treachery. Her _brother?_ No wonder Anstice always turned away from the paintings. Why she'd urged me to forget him. He was her fuckin' brother. Why the hell hadn't she said anything? Where had he been all these years? We'd known each other since grade school and I had no knowledge of Anstice having a brother. Why keep it a secret?

I wanted answers, yet I was so furious I couldn't even speak to her. My friend could say nothing that could ever repair the damage that was done.

Keir's voice was low and quiet. "You're angry and in pain. But she did it to protect you. She warned you to forget him."

"Fuck you, Keir. My guess, all this is your fault. So, our busted friendship . . . yeah, that's on you." I looked at Anstice. " _Your_ mystery brother was there. In the cages. He was tortured. Shit, the sick bastard slammed a sledgehammer down on his leg numerous times. Did you know that, Anstice? Did you know that not once did he scream in agony?"

Anstice's complexion paled as she leaned back on Keir for support.

_Yeah, well, I hope you're horrified._ "Why is he in Spain? Why did he leave?"

Anstice said, "He went there for . . . work. It was decided—"

"Love, don't."

She looked up at Keir and glared. "No, Keir, she needs to know."

Keir's eyes narrowed and his body stiffened, but he nodded.

My hands curled into the comforter. "It was decided? Who decided? Does he work with you, Keir?" Was Keir involved with drugs? With weapons? Shit, he and his friends all looked like they were in some motorcycle gang, maybe they were? Keir had a bike, I'd seen it last summer and Anstice mentioned riding on it. Fuck. This wasn't good.

"Balen broke the law," Keir said. "Yes, he had to leave. Now—"

"What law? Your own law? Like a club law or something? What the hell kind of work do you do?" I grabbed the closest thing to me, my pillow, and flung it across the room. I was so pissed off with them. With myself for not seeing this sooner. God, when did the lies end? "He wanted to stay. Balen didn't want to leave. Was he running from you? Were you going to kill him for fucking something up? Hadn't he been through enough? He was tortured for fuck's sake. Tortured."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Keir said.

"No fuck. Guess whose fault that is. But I saw the part where Balen's leg was mangled from a sledgehammer. Yeah, that part I saw firsthand."

Anstice stepped out of Keir's embrace and came toward the bed. "Danni, please. It's their way. He broke their trust."

Un-fucking-believable. I looked away. "He lived in a cage with water dripping down on him. Beaten to a pulp by some psycho. Do you get it? Whatever he's done can be forgiven. He shouldn't have to leave."

I noticed the change in Keir's stance. His shoulders stiffened as he looked toward the door.

A man with a shaved head and a five o'clock shadow stood in the entrance. He was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and, holy wow, hot looking. Like Jason Statham hot. But it was his eyes that made him look scarier than Keir and Damien and Balen put together—ice blue and colder than the Arctic. He looked like he could kill with one hand and not even think twice about it.

A snake tattoo was on the side of his neck that curled behind his left ear. There was no doubt this guy was another friend of Keir's.

He nodded to Keir and Anstice, and they started to walk from the room.

"Whoa. Wait a sec. Anstice?" But they were already gone.

Snake tattoo guy remained at the door, watching me, his legs slightly parted in an intimidating stance. When he spoke, his deep English accent sent a chill down my spine.

"I'm Waleron," he said. His eyes roamed over my body as if he could see beneath my duvet. Then his penetrating eyes met mine and, for once in my life, I knew to be a little more careful with what I said.

"The head doctor." He sure as hell didn't look like a head doctor. "Well, I'll save you the trouble of doing all that double-meaning questions shit. Been there. What I need is for everyone to leave my place."

"You slept with him," Waleron said.

My mouth dropped open. Was he some psychotic pervert who watched me and Balen from the alley?

Waleron's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "I know because I smell his scent all over you and this room."

"But that's imposs—"

"Quiet."

I sat up, willing myself to face this brute of a man on my feet. Gone was my common sense to keep my attitude under wraps. I met his stare and glared back, then tossed the covers aside and slid my legs over the side of the bed.

"You leave that bed, you'll fall." He said it matter-of-fact, like he knew exactly how weak my legs were. Well, he didn't. He knew nothing about me.

"Well, then, wouldn't you have a nice laugh. Looks like you need one. Now, if you don't mind, get the hell out of my place."

"I've returned with Balen," Waleron said.

I froze just as I was attempting to stand. I sank back down. "It's him, isn't it? That's why I feel okay again. He's here."

He nodded.

"I knew it. I just knew it. Okay, so there's some device implanted in me or something that makes me sick whenever he leaves. Why? Who would do that? God, that's just wrong."

"I don't know what's going on." He reached in his back pocket and took out a little narrow container that looked like it had a duck's head on the top. The beak opened and whatever was inside popped out and he put it in his mouth.

Candy? He was eating a freakin' candy?

He approached me and I was beginning to wonder if maybe I should've been nicer because that tat on his neck with his broad muscular stature was intimidating. "The pain has lessened?"

"Umm, yeah. Pretty much gone now." I didn't know why this man would know the answer, but I had to ask. "Will I die? I mean, is this device going to explode or anything?"

"There is no device," he said. "But without him, you will suffer."

"Okay, maybe I'm a little lightheaded right now, but what you're saying sounds crazy. No device. No implant. Okay, so a voodoo thing-a-ma-jig. Come on, Doc, are you purposely trying to get me committed?"

"I don't know what's causing this."

"Where is he? If he has to leave again, then I'm going with him."

For the first time, I saw his expression falter with surprise. In a flash, the look disappeared and the cold demeanor returned. "You're human. That's impossible."

"Of course I'm human." Then my breath hitched as the memory of the man who had abducted me and Balen came rocketing into my mind. The fangs. The blood. His laughter.

"Yes," Waleron said. "Your memory returning is unexpected. It has not happened before."

What the hell was going on? Why did everyone know about what happened to me except me? Who was this guy? Another of Anstice's brothers? "How do you know so much about what happened to me?"

"We rescued you and Balen."

I winced. Guess I had to tone down the bitchiness. "You rescued us?" That was why Anstice and Keir wanted me to meet Waleron. Holy crap, he must be a cop. No, that didn't make sense and he sure as hell didn't look like one. "Is this Ryszard still alive?"

"No. He's dead."

Well, there's one good thing out of this mess. "Why was Balen there with me? Why did Anstice keep it a secret? No bullshit."

Waleron said nothing.

"Ryszard. He had fangs like a dog and smelled like black licorice. He bit my neck and . . . he drank my blood."

Waleron stepped closer to the bed. "Vampire. Ryszard was a leader of a group here in Toronto."

Vampires. Vampires? "Are you insane? Seriously . . . think about what you just said."

"They feel constant thirst and the only way to ease it is to drink blood. If a woman consumes a vampire's blood, they become his slave. And a slave to one of them is worse than death. Vampires have no remorse and kill for the mere pleasure of it."

What he was telling me had to be bullshit, but the guy looked dead serious, and I knew from pieces of my memory coming back that this Ryszard had felt no remorse for Balen's suffering. His fangs had been real, and I'd had bruises on my neck. It hadn't been a ring. It had been teeth marks on my neck.

But it was impossible. "Why did he hurt Balen? He tortured him so badly. I don't understand. Who would do that?"

Waleron's brows rose. "Ryszard hurt you."

"Yes, but Balen . . . I don't know, it was much worse." I didn't know the full extent of what went down, but I saw it in Balen's eyes. It was more pain than any person could normally endure. "No bullshit? There are really . . . vampires?" A hard pill to swallow, but for some reason, things were beginning to make sense now.

"Yes." He lowered his hand to my forehead and I felt a swirling heat grip my body. I went to say something, but I wasn't sure what because my mind was foggy. I attempted to move away, but he continued to send a pulsating throb into my head until I became so tired that I fell back onto the bed and was asleep within seconds.

I PACED THE LENGTH of the room in Keir's basement, a.k.a. the Tomb. Restless wasn't even close to describing how I was feeling. Completely fucked up mess of emotions was more accurate. Shit, I'd been fucked up before, now I was totally screwed, too.

Waleron had turned the plane around, but that didn't mean I was going to live happily fuckin' ever after. The Wraiths were going to be pissed at Waleron for defying judgment. My death was most likely now on their agenda.

But not before I saw her. Not before I found out what the hell was going on. I had to know she was okay. Jesus, what I felt in the plane had freaked me out. Sure, I was a Tracker, but being able to scent Danni's emotions from that distance—impossible. And Waleron damn well knew it. Something else was at work here and I'd be damned if I'd let Danni face this without me.

The sweet scent of her drifted into me and I stopped pacing. Fuck, they brought her here. I walked to the door, threw it open, then took the stairs two at a time to the top floor and strode down the hall to where her scent led me.

I threw open the door, and then stopped abruptly. Anstice sat on the bed with Danni's hand clasped in hers. Shit. I'd been unprepared to see my sister. She looked up at me with a tentative smile. Guilt hit me hard. It had eaten away at me for two years and now it was in my face and it sucked.

"You haven't forgiven yourself," Anstice said.

I said nothing. No, of course I hadn't. How could I. I deserved her bitterness and hate.

Anstice lowered Danni's hand and rose. God, she looked like our mother, regal with deep brown eyes filled with kindness. "Ryszard was going to make her his slave, wasn't he?" Her voice was soothing, like a Healer's. I remembered our mother's voice being like that.

I nodded, my eyes flashing for a second to Danni lying so still and pale in the king size bed.

"Forgiveness is not required, Balen. I owe you my gratitude for saving her."

"No," I said. "I betrayed my own blood and kin for a stranger. I risked your life and that of the Talde. I broke our law."

"Have you thought of the consequences if you hadn't?"

Yes, a thousand fuckin' times and I came to the same goddamn conclusion. I'd do it again. And that was what destroyed me. If given the chance, I'd do it again the exact same way.

Anstice approached.

I stiffened as her soft footsteps stopped inches away. She raised her hand then cupped my cheek. Jesus, it was like my mother was right here, all the good now in Anstice. "We've missed so many years. Please, don't block me out now that you're back. I want to know my brother."

"Yeah, that doesn't look like that will happen." I turned my head and her hand dropped.

Anstice sighed. "Waleron woke her from deep sleep a few minutes ago." She put her hand on my forearm and squeezed. "Balen, you did the right thing." Then she walked from the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Waleron's theory of why Danni had been so ill . . . fuck, it was my fault. Did it ever end? The pain I caused others?

I ran my hand through my hair, back and forth, and groaned. Jesus, this was a total fuck up. And yet I couldn't deny that I was happy as shit to be back, to see her again.

She was mine, damn it.

"Balen?"

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice. My knees actually weakened. It had never happened before and it took several seconds before I could put one foot in front of the other. Shit, I was in trouble with this woman.

She reached out her hand and I stared at it, remembering her long slender fingers unbuttoning my jeans, caressing my chest, stroking my cock.

When I remained motionless, she shifted closer on the bed and took my hand. "You're here." She rose up on her knees and put her hands on either side of my head, pulling me toward her. "Took you long enough."

Before I could reply, her lips met mine, soft and hesitant, and it was so fuckin' sweet. But nothing in me was sweet when it came to her. The impulse to throw her back on the bed and taste her again took control and I deepened the kiss. My tongue drove inside her mouth, tasting, touching the velvet surface that sent quivers through every muscle in my body then straight to my straining cock. Jesus Christ, I loved the feel of her lips on mine.

I hooked my arm around her waist and yanked her into me, groaning at the feel of her soft curves. She was a part of me, the goodness I lacked. Could I ever deny myself this woman? Fuck no. I was too selfish to let her go. The only word that roared through my head was _mine._

She tilted her head back and I kissed the curve of her neck. "God, Balen, I want you so badly it hurts."

"Danni." I pushed her back on the bed then came on top of her, my hand pushing her shirt up so I could feel the warmth of her skin. Her scent was driving me crazy. She was driving me crazy. The relief to be back with her . . .

I had to have her.

I groaned low in my throat before I claimed her mouth again. I felt her palms on my chest, so warm and . . . they were pushing.

Pushing.

"Fuck." I jerked up and all sexual urgency died instantly. Danni's eyes were wide and panicked. God, what the hell was I doing? "Jesus." I flew back until my back hit the wall on the other side of the room.

Danni sat up. "Balen, I'm sorry, I just—"

"You're sorry? Jesus, Danni."

She rose from the bed, her pink boxer shorts and white tank top revealing far more of her body than I needed to see right now. Her nipples were erect through the skimpy top as if pleading with me to touch them.

Desire rose again as she walked across the room toward me. My breath sucked from my lungs, our eyes locking as she stopped inches away. She placed her hands on my chest, resting them there like they had a place near my heart.

"The pain is gone. I don't know what's going on, but you came back and it . . . it's like it just vanished. How . . . God, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. But it has something to do with you. With us. I feel it." Her fingers curled in my shirt and she half-laughed. "Am I crazy? Is that crazy, Balen? Please tell me you felt it, too."

I searched her eyes for the hatred for what I'd caused, but it wasn't there. "You're not crazy." But I was for coming back here. I should've stayed away. Never returned to Toronto in the first place. Now, I'd put Danni in danger with the Wraiths and whatever was connecting us.

She stood on her tip toes and kissed my lips. "What happened to you . . . what Ryszard did to you . . ."

I cupped her chin, my thumb moving back and forth as I looked down at her. "You remember?"

"Some of it. I remember us talking, the cages and . . . they tortured you."

Fuck, if she remembered my mouth on her throat, I'd lose her. And I'd deserve it. She'd be disgusted. She'd wonder what in hell she'd done by sleeping with a fuckin' animal. I was disgusted. Scars didn't drink blood, but I had. I'd taken Ryszard's . . . and Danni's. Could that be why we were connected? I'd never heard of that before, but a Scar had also never drunk vampire blood and lived to tell about it.

I hooked my arm around her waist and brought her in tight as the door pushed open. Keir stared at us for a second, no doubt taking in that I had my arm around her. Scars and humans, yeah, that was so against the law. Well, I was fucked already, what was one more broken law.

"Living room. Now. And drop your block from us." Keir spun around and left.

Danni stiffened as she looked around, probably just realizing where she was. "What am I doing at Keir's? I don't remember coming here? And what does he mean by block?"

Shit, I hated lying to her. I didn't want to do it anymore. And Keir should know better than to mention our powers in front of her. I'd shielded my mind from all the Scars, and it was difficult allowing them to communicate with me again. "I have to talk to Keir and Waleron, right now. Find out what's going on. Then I'll let you know. Get some rest."

"Like you were going to let me know about being Anstice's brother?"

I really could come up with nothing. Literally nothing. Because I was Anstice's brother and I'd kept it from Danni. I'd thought I'd be either dead or in Rest, never to see her again.

"I'm not staying here." Danni tried to move out of my arms, but I tightened my hold.

It was obvious she was still angry and hurt over the lies and I couldn't blame her. But the truth was a hell of a lot to take in right now. "Anstice loves you. I know it's hard without answers, but I swear, I'll tell you everything soon. When you understand, you'll forgive your friend for what she's had to do." I leaned forward and kissed her again and it took a few seconds before I managed to get her to submit. "I have to go. Get some rest. I'll be back in a bit and we'll talk."

"I'm coming with you. I'll just throw on some clothes." Danni pulled from my arms and rushed to the foot of the bed where someone had laid her clothes.

"No." I strode over to her and grabbed her shirt from her before she had a chance to put it on. "This isn't something you can be a part of. Stay here."

Danni put her hands on her hips. "I deserve to know what the hell is going on."

"Danni." I tried to keep my voice gentle, but it came out like a warning instead. Habit. I was a Scar and it was difficult being anything but. I made decisions and expected others to listen to me, no questions.

Shit, she looked pissed.

She picked up her jeans, whipping them at me, smacking me in the face. "Fine, I won't get dressed."

With a determined look on her face, she headed for the door dressed in the slinky tank top and boxer shorts.

"Danni," I warned. "Don't you—Fuck."

She ignored me and walked out the door.

I went after her. "Danni. Stop." I caught up to her and grabbed her arm. "What the hell are you doing?"

She glared.

"This can't go down like this. You need to trust me." Then my eyes trailed down the front of her and my cock hardened. "If another fuckin' guy looks at you like this, I'm going to lose it. Have some mercy here. This shit is complicated. Give me some time."

"You had two years."

I sighed. "I need you to do this for me. Please."

I felt the moment she gave in to me as the stiffness went out of her body. "Fine. But I want to know every detail. And if you're longer than an hour, I'm coming down naked." She slipped from my grasp and turned to go back to her room, hips swaying provocatively. She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, and it was your cock straining against your jeans that convinced me to let you win—this time."

I groaned. Hell, I was in trouble with this chick.

"Where have you been for two years?" Keir demanded as soon as I entered the living room.

I walked over to the bar and helped myself to a Bombay and tonic. "Nowhere special." Reliving the hell I'd been through and trying to rid myself of the vampire blood was not something I wanted to go into. Ever.

Waleron, who rarely sat in anyone's presence, sat in the high-backed leather chair, one leg resting over the other. Casual. Too casual. "Did you mention Danielle to anyone?"

"I was trying to forget her, not torture myself." And it had failed miserably considering she'd haunted my mind twenty-four seven.

"I don't understand it," Keir said. "Who can do this? And why? What is the point of Bonding two people together? It has no purpose. Even Trinity can't bond two people together like this."

Shit. Could it be possible that some fuckin' witch put a spell on us? "Bonded? That hasn't been done. At least I've never heard of it being done." I leaned up against the cabinet that held an array of ancient artifacts and took a sip of my drink. "As far as I know, only a damn powerful witch can pull that shit off."

"And a witch would have nothing to gain." Keir shook his head. "No, someone more powerful. Danni would've died if you'd been put in Rest."

"More powerful," Waleron repeated. "Did you feel anything while you were away? A spell being cast?"

I hesitated. I'd spent most of my time fighting the tainted blood inside me. It took every bit of control to refrain from seeking vampires and joining them. The constant thirst begged me to drink from any who came near me.

"Balen?" Waleron asked.

"No. Not that I was aware of," I replied. I couldn't tell them I had drunk Ryszard's blood and Danni's. It couldn't be the reason for our connection; I'd driven all the tainted blood from my system.

"How far were you from here?" Waleron asked.

"I went to England for the first year then returned to Canada. However, I never came to see her until recently."

"And when you came back?" Waleron asked.

All I knew was that I'd had this urgency to be with Danni the minute I laid eyes on her again. "It was odd. I never thought of it before now, but when I came back and saw her again, it was like . . . shit, I don't know, like I was compelled to be with her. God, I even stayed outside her place like some stalker." It had to be a spell.

"Shit." Keir pressed his fingers to his temple. "Sounds like a spell. Why, though?"

"Delara knows something," Waleron said. I froze, drink halfway to my mouth. "She warned me that Danielle would die if I put you in Rest. She refused to tell me anything more."

"Refused you?" Keir asked, brows rising.

Waleron ignored him. "Bonding is an old spell used by the ancients. It was originally for breeding purposes. The most powerful male Scars were Bonded to the most powerful women so reproduction was guaranteed to produce a child with the strongest abilities. It was a way for us to gain strength. Damien is of a Bonded line. That is why he is a Tracker and a Visionary."

"But there is nothing gained by Bonding us together. She's human." Fuck, this was bad. I'd be hunted by the Wraiths and now I was Bonded to Danni—a human.

"Who is capable of Bonding?" Keir asked.

"Few," Waleron replied. He placed his untouched brandy on the coffee table and rose. "Be ready. The Wraiths, they will come for you. I'll be back shortly."

"I promised to tell her about us," I said before Waleron had a chance to Trace.

Keir swore under his breath, but remained quiet.

Waleron nodded. "Yes. It's time. She must join us."

"What the hell does that mean?" My eyes narrowed and my body tensed.

Waleron said, "She must become a Scar. If she doesn't, she'll die. Because, Balen, the Wraiths will capture you and put you in Rest. It's just a matter of when."

Before I could ask how the hell it was possible for a human to become a Scar, Waleron Traced from the room.

Waleron had become a cold, heartless bastard who had no compassion for anyone. A few thought his lack of emotion was an after effect from when Waleron was captured by a Lilac over a hundred years ago. Lilacs were Center World Others—females, nasty. They lured men into their web and sucked the life right out of them. Sometimes Lilacs placed their prey in cocoons and let them stay alive for weeks, trapped in hell.

Waleron had been a Lilac's captive for sixty-one years.

I chugged back the rest of my drink and set it on the glass bar. "Ever hear of a human becoming one of us?"

"Nope," Keir said.

"Think he's shittin' me?"

"Nope."

"Yeah, figured that."

A KNOCK SOUNDED AND I smiled, anticipating Balen after his 'testosterone only' conference.

I opened the door and my smile faded at the sight of Anstice. I half closed the door in her face then stopped myself, remembering Balen's words. Being rude was just plain immature.

"Come to tell more lies?" I could still be a bitch. I turned and walked back to finish making the bed. My hurt from Anstice not telling me about Balen being her brother was still fresh. God, how could she? We'd been friends since, well, forever.

"I just wanted to see . . . Danni, please look at me. I want to explain." Anstice approached me, but stopped several feet away. "Every time you painted his portrait, it destroyed me not to tell you, but I couldn't. I was sworn to secrecy and I thought . . ." She wrung her hands together. "I thought you'd get over him. I don't know . . . maybe that you'd stop painting him. But then . . . then he came back and it all changed."

I pulled the duvet up over the pillows and smoothed it out. "It changed way before that, Anstice. It changed when you met Keir and you damn well know it. You quit your job. God, you loved being a vet. But I supported you. You wanted to be at Keir's beck and call. I never said shit. I trusted you to tell me things. I thought we confided in each other."

Anstice reached out and grabbed my hand. I stopped fiddling with the duvet. "Danni, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Balen." She hesitated as if she was having difficulty getting words past a large lump in her throat. "Ryszard was after _me._ He used you and Balen to get to me."

I jerked my eyes to Anstice. What the fuck?

Anstice continued, "We're different. Keir, Balen, Damien, Jedrik, me, all of us—and, well there are more of us."

Oh, God, this didn't sound good.

Anstice slipped her hand from mine then sat on the bed. "I didn't know any of this until I met Keir. I didn't know I had a brother or that I was different. Remember when Keir was attacked in the alley and I went to help." I nodded. "Well, that's when I found out. If I hadn't seen it firsthand, I wouldn't have believed it either. I had to trust him."

"So, different in that they have their own laws? Like a biker gang." I snorted because the idea made damn sense. Keir even had a bike, although I never saw Jedrik on one. Keir was tatted up, didn't take shit from anyone and, yeah, this place was like a clubhouse. And the laws . . . Balen said he broke them. Betrayed them. That shit wasn't allowed in a Motorcycle Club. No wonder they were after him. "That's why you couldn't tell me?"

"Well, yes and no. They have their own laws, yes, and I was sworn to secrecy, so I guess you could make the comparison. But it's . . ." She sighed. "Remember when we were kids and my hands burned?"

"When you touch injured people."

Anstice nodded. "I'm called a Healer. A Scar Healer."

"A what?" I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what Anstice was going to tell me, and yet, I still needed to know.

"We're called Scars."

"Keir is part of a biker gang called Scars? And you're what, their doctor for when they get shot or knifed? Damn, I would've expected a better name than that. Maybe Black Deviled Scars or something." Shit, did that mean Balen was part of a gang? I didn't like that idea. Actually, I hated the idea that Anstice was a part of it. No wonder she was different after she met Keir. And when Keir was attacked in the alley . . . shit, that was probably another biker gang. One with fangs. I shivered, rubbing my arms.

Anstice smiled. "Ah, no. We're more like a group that have unique abilities." She bit her lip and hesitated. "Umm . . . when I touch someone who is ill or wounded, I can heal them."

I felt like laughing and crying at the same time. I did neither. Anstice looked serious, and after all, vampires were . . . real. Yeah, that still was not sitting well. "Okay, say this is true. Then why didn't you heal me when I fell off my bike and broke my arm that time when I was eight? Or can you only heal certain injuries? Or maybe there is the possibility that Keir's Scars are involved with drugs and he's slipping you something to make you think you have this . . . ability." God, and I thought I was insane. Now Anstice was going to end up in a padded cell with me.

"You don't believe me." Anstice looked up at me.

I sighed. "Anst, healing with the touch of your hands? It's a little hard to swallow. You don't have to make things up in order to try to make amends, okay? We've been friends a long time. I hate that you kept shit from me, but I'm not going to throw our relationship away because you swore to some secret about your husband's criminal activity. I just needed to be pissed off for a bit. Did Balen and Keir screw over this Ryszard guy? Is he part of another gang?"

"He's . . . was a vampire, Danni."

"A vampire," I repeated. Scary, shaved-head doctor guy told me that too.

Anstice sighed, her fingers curling together. "If I'd told you two years ago that the guy who abducted you was a vampire, do you think you'd have believed me? You were talking to the police, what if you'd told them what I'd said? We, the Scars can't allow that, Danni. It's forbidden for humans to know about us. Can you imagine if the world knew we existed?" Anstice hesitated and I stopped pacing to look at her. "Ryszard wanted me, so I could heal him. I'm one of a rare few that have the ability to heal vampires. He was using you to get to me until, well, until Balen made the deal with him. In exchange for your life, Balen gave Ryszard the location of where the Scars were hiding me."

I was speechless. Everything whirled around in my head and I couldn't grasp onto one solid thing.

"You of all people know that I wouldn't lie about something so . . . far-fetched."

"If you were on drugs you would." God, I'd been so stupid. It all fit now. Jedrik and Hack living here, that other guy I'd seen the night I'd hidden up in the tree. Scary shaved-head guy, Waleron. And it was winter, so they weren't riding their bikes. Criminals. A gang. And they'd been after Balen for breaking code or something.

"Vampires do exist, Danni. You had the marks on your neck to prove it." Anstice voice was quiet and calm.

So a vampire sucked my blood. Padded room, here I come. But I knew the Ryszard guy had bitten my neck. So maybe it was true. Could it be true? I sure as hell didn't want it to be.

"Ryszard released you, and Balen led him to me," Anstice said.

Oh, fuck. I felt my knees weaken and sat beside Anstice. "That's what he meant."

"What?"

"Balen said he betrayed someone. He betrayed you. He risked your life to save mine." How could he make that choice? Why pick me? Anstice was his sister. God, this was getting shittier by the second. If this was all true and I wasn't having some kind of hallucinations, maybe they had drugged me.

"Balen had been tortured for weeks and needed healing. Ryszard knew this, so he . . ." She paused. "He made a bargain—Balen had to consume Ryszard's blood, which would make him into a vampire and then lead him to me. If Balen did this, Ryszard would let you go. Balen made the deal and when you were released, Jedrik took you to the hospital. Of course, Waleron—he's our Taldeburu, our leader—erased your memory.

"Balen came back to us so I could heal him and then lead Ryszard to me. Balen had tainted blood, but it had yet to take effect, and none of us knew Balen was infected until it was too late. I healed him and then I was taken to Trinity's."

Could that explain Balen's mangled leg healing? God, could Anstice really heal? I was beginning to realize that making all this up wasn't possible. "Trinity?" I asked.

"Umm, yeah, Trinity is a . . . well, a witch."

"Oh God." Vampires, witches, and her best friend was a Healer for a group known as the Scars. That weren't a gang, but had their own laws. What next? Werewolves?

"Trinity has a safe house. It's protected so no one can enter without an invitation. When Balen came to the house, Trinity thought he'd come to protect me and invited him inside. In turn, Balen invited Ryszard."

This was so surreal. Anstice's words were like a mythical story of hell. Could it get any worse? Probably. Anstice had yet to tell me what exactly the Scars were. What Balen was.

"Trinity sent Waleron a warning. But Ryszard knew I wouldn't go with him willingly, so he was prepared. He had one of his underlings take you from the hospital."

The memory hurtled into me. "He held a knife to my throat. You were there and so was Balen. Balen attacked the guy with the knife and . . ." Oh, shit, I'd been terrified. Balen had stabbed the guy in the neck and taken me into the basement. I looked at Anstice. "I fought him. I fought your brother. I tried to get away. I saw you struggling to escape Ryszard. Then, there was all this noise and . . . I don't remember anything else." I rubbed my temples as the nagging memories assaulted me.

"Abby is a witch from the coven. She took you back to the hospital." Anstice lowered her head and her voice softened. "Balen vanished. The vampire blood he drank had to have been taking hold of him. He had to run or he might have turned on you . . . and us. He knew the effects, the consequence, of the poison in his veins." Anstice closed her eyes for a few seconds. "God, he must have been in so much agony, trying to fight it. Leaving was the only thing he could do. The Scars would've had to kill him if he'd stayed."

The thought of Balen being killed sent a wave of panic through my body. I felt vulnerable when it came to him and I hated it. My father had been that way with my mother and look where it led him. I drew my hand from Anstice and stood. "Balen left you there? He left you to Ryszard?" That so didn't sound good.

Anstice nodded. "Yes. But he knew Keir and the others had come to help me. Balen would never have left me to Ryszard otherwise."

No, he wouldn't. I knew that even though I barely knew Balen.

"I believe in my brother, Danni. He thought of nothing but you when he consumed Ryszard's blood. He knew he would turn, knew he'd be hunted and killed by Scars, yet he saw an opportunity to set you free and took it. He knew Keir would protect me."

There was no question Balen would've protected both me and Anstice. I saw it every time I looked at his painting, the agony at what he'd done, the turmoil over leaving and the guilt that sat like a cement block on his shoulders. "But why keep this from me? Why couldn't you just explain like you are now?"

"The Scars have laws. Can you imagine if humans knew people with these abilities existed?"

"So scary as hell guy wiped my mind clean?" Whoa, that guy had way too much power.

Anstice nodded. "Waleron. And there's more."

"Great, just what I want to hear. Don't tell me that Finn is really a werewolf. 'Cause I love that dog."

Anstice shot to her feet then dove for me, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door. "Get out of here. Go to the basement."

"Why? What the—"

Balen charged into the room, the door slamming up against the wall from the force and then tilting as the top hinge gave way. "Danni," he shouted as he went for me. "Get away from the window."

Keir was right behind him. He grabbed Anstice, pulling her back against his chest. Balen shoved me behind him.

"What is it? Witch?" Anstice asked.

"No," Balen said. "Different. It smells like . . . Christ. Wraiths."

"Balen, take Danni and get her to the Tomb," Keir ordered.

"Too late for that," Balen said.

Dampness seeped into the room and the air began to smell of rain and wild roses. Blue mist appeared and swirled around them.

Then, the mist fell and a cloaked woman materialized, wearing a pale blue gown that left nothing to the imagination. Her golden tendrils fell across and down both shoulders to settle on her breasts. The woman's blue haze faded and her form became solid as she stood facing us.

"Holy hell." I blinked to see if the woman would disappear. She didn't. Maybe vampires were real and Anstice could heal with her hands. Or Keir's drugs were damn powerful and I'd been given a good dose of it. Whichever, the beautiful woman in front of me was staring as if she could read every single ridiculous thought that was steamrolling through my mind.

I TIGHTENED MY GRIP on Danni's arm. "Genevieve?" I asked Keir without taking my eyes off the woman.

"Yes," the woman answered, her gaze moving to me. "I am Genevieve, Wraith of Water, and I'm here to help you." She gestured with her hand toward the window. "The others are coming. I suggest you leave here. And take the woman with you."

I grunted. "Where to? Because my options are pretty limited right now."

The Wraith's eyes began to change from blue to green. "To our homeland. The cave. It's your only choice if you want Danielle to live."

"You've got to be kidding." I half laughed at the absurd suggestion. No way in hell was I listening to a Wraith when they were the ones after me.

The ground quivered, and the window shattered, shards of glass crashing to the floor as the wind gusted into the house. Shit, the Wraith of Air was close.

Genevieve said, "She'll die if they take you. Only as a Scar can she survive the Bonding if you're taken and put in Rest or die. Waleron knows this. Go. I'll do what I can to delay them." She raised both hands into the air and entwined them. A mist of swirling water circled around her. It rushed and groaned, growing with power, driving everything in the room back from her vanishing figure. "Go!" she shouted.

I grabbed Danni's hand and pulled her from the room. Her skin was cold and trembling, and I knew she was in shock. Seeing the beautiful Wraith and her power was enough to make _any_ human reel in shock. Christ, this was fucked up.

Waleron entered my mind. _"Tomb. Now. I'll meet you there."_

I half dragged Danni down the stairs and into the basement, Keir and Anstice steps behind. Jedrik stood outside his room in his black boxer shorts and no shirt.

"Hey, what's all the noise? Trying to sleep here," he said, ruffling his hair and yawning.

A white cloud materialized next to the pool table and Waleron appeared.

Danni gasped.

Jesus, talk about screwing with a person's mind.

The snake's eyes on Waleron's tattoo glowed red for several seconds then went back to black. His stance was tense; the power he exuded filled with rage. This was the Waleron no one wanted to fuck with.

"Don't use your powers, or they will sense them and be able to track you. You'll travel by car to Newfoundland. By air, Urtzi can easily find you." Waleron tossed him keys. "I'll arrange for the jet to pick you up when it's safe. You'll stay with the Talde on the east coast. I trust them implicitly. When it's safe enough, the plane will take you to Spain. I'll meet you in Zugarramurdi for her transition."

"For real?" I asked.

Waleron scowled. "Have I ever not been 'for real'?"

"Shit. Yeah, okay."

"Get the hell out of here," Waleron ordered.

A loud crash sounded upstairs and Waleron instantly vanished. Why my Taldeburu was intent on sticking his ass on the line, I couldn't figure out. Did they trust me? Or were they doing this to protect Danni since she was Anstice's best friend?

Keir and Anstice ran back upstairs and Jedrik disappeared back in his room.

I pulled Danni toward the garage. "Balen, what is going on?"

Her face was as white as the Wraith of Water and I could smell fear radiating off her skin. "I'll explain on the way. We have to get the fuck out of here."

She stumbled after me as we went down the long hallway. "That woman? The water. I mean, okay, that isn't possible, right? Water swirling around and . . ."

Another loud crash from upstairs and then something that resembled a howl.

I stopped and grabbed her by the shoulders, my fingers bruising. Her eyes were staring and glassy. "Baby, that water shit you just saw is nothing compared to what is happening upstairs. They'll take me away from you." I shook her once. "Separate us."

Her eyes widened. "But that would . . ."

"Yeah, babe." I inhaled and smelled fire. "Fuck. Edan." Edan was going to be one hell of a pissed-off Wraith.

I hooked my arm around Danni's waist and we ran.

BALEN RACED THE CAR down the driveway toward the gates.

"Balen." He wasn't slowing. Shit. "Balen!"

His hand came down on the back of my head and pushed it between my legs, just as he crashed through them.

A loud clatter and bang as metal groaned and bent then scraped along the pavement. I turned in my seat and looked at the mangled gate then back at the dented hood.

"Holy Christ." I took deep inhales and glanced over at him. He had a fierce, determined look on his face, rainforest eyes focused, jaw tight, and his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He looked like a different man than the one I'd slept with. Eyes hard and cold, scowl severe with a flicker of a murderous glint. It was still a hot scary, because really, I didn't think Balen could ever not look hot.

"The woman in the blue gown is a Wraith, Wraith of Water. There are four of them and you don't mess with them." He looked at me, then back again at the road. "When any of us break a law, those are the ones who vote on our punishment, along with Waleron and a couple others. They voted to send me to Rest." Before I could ask what that meant he continued. "Rest is being put into a . . . for humans, it would be comparable to a coma. No feelings, no movement, and in limbo between death and living. But with one anomaly—in Rest you relive your past, and not the good parts. Since Waleron didn't put me in Rest, the Wraiths are retaliating."

"But that woman came to warn you."

The tires squealed as he took a corner fast. "Genevieve is different. She hates conflict."

A bright white flash burst across the sky. Balen swore beneath his breath and the car lurched forward. "We're in some serious shit here, little one." He pounded his fist on the steering wheel. "Fuck, you shouldn't be involved in this."

I reached over and put my hand on his thigh. His eyes shot to me and what I saw was so familiar. I'd seen it every single day in my paintings. The haunted, tortured eyes, lips pressed together, the pain so deep it leaked into me. In an odd way, it comforted me because I knew it so well.

"Danni—"

I interrupted, "Don't treat me like some fragile china doll. Give it to me straight. No bullshit. Anstice told me a little, but most of it is not making sense right about now and my brain is like a mess of wires all pushed in the wrong sockets."

Balen chuckled.

I squeezed his thigh and his smile disappeared. "Baby, I love your hand on me. But my cock wants you bad right now and it isn't a good time to pull over and fuck you from behind against the hood of the car."

Oh, Jesus. That was hot. I swallowed, put my hand back on my lap and crossed my legs as my sex clenched. Yeah, better keep my hands to myself while we're being hunted down by some crazy-ass Wraith things.

Balen shifted in his seat and the leather creaked. "I'm a Tracker and have the scenting ability like a . . . I've never had to explain this shit to anyone before." He frowned then started up again. "I can track people really well." He hesitated, taking a quick glance in my direction. "And speak telepathically—read thoughts."

"What? For real? I mean, you guys are speaking with your minds without opening your mouths?" That would explain the weird connection Anstice and Keir had. They always seemed as if they knew what the other was thinking.

"It's limited, of course. A few miles maybe. Some of us are stronger at it than others, and we're able to block other Scars from reading our minds when we want to."

"Yeah, that's screwed up. So you guys are just parading around Toronto?"

"More like all over the world," Balen corrected.

"Great. Just great."

"Humans don't know about us. So don't think you've been ignorant all these years."

"I should've noticed something. Anything. God, my best friend is one of you." I'd thought I was a pretty observant person and now I discovered I'd been walking around in a haze. "So where do you, all of you, come from?"

"The short of it—we evolved from witches in 1610. You've heard of the Spanish Inquisition?" I nodded. "Well, in Zugarramurdi, Spain, a handful of women confessed to being witches to the Spanish Inquisition. Since they confessed to the crime, they were exonerated. Others were not so lucky. With their refusal to admit any guilt, they were burned at the stake.

"Afterward, the Goddess—" I raised my brows at that one. "Yeah, I know, difficult to grasp, but her name is Azzurra. She approached the pardoned witches and, in exchange for their sworn loyalty to protect civilization, gave them immortality and extraordinary abilities from the five senses—we became the Scars." He paused and glanced at me as if to make certain I was either listening or hadn't passed out from shock. "The witches burned at the stake were also given a reprieve by the Goddess. She saved their spirits and gave each of them one power from the four elements—water, earth, fire and air—the Wraiths. Together, the Wraiths and the Scars spoke the identical oath to the Goddess, swearing to protect humanity from any darkness that walked in the shadows."

"Nice," I mumbled. "Bring on the streamers and birthday hats. I'm living among burned witches who are now Wraiths and Scars."

"However, we had one curse to deal with. In Zugarramurdi, there is a stream in a cave where the witches would gather outside of town. That is where they held all their meetings. The water from that stream takes away our abilities. We become as weak as humans." He shrugged. "Never mattered much as no one knew about it—until Ryszard."

Oh, shit. "The water. In your cage."

"Yeah. He must have transported it over and used it to weaken me."

"And yet we're headed there. Sounds like a fan-fuckin-tastic plan."

"Nothing is touching you." His intense expression eased and his lips curved up as he glanced between his legs. "Except, my other . . . ability."

I laughed. "Your ability with your cock isn't going to save us from wraith-like, crazy ass things."

He turned to me and winked. "Oh, baby, you haven't even begun to know what my cock is capable of."

Jesus. My insides did a little dance and I uncrossed my legs then crossed them again, trying to find a position that eased the ache that was building. I was guessing by his smug expression he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Some of us can move objects by telekinesis. It's Keir's specialty and Damien is pretty good at it too, though his ability is erratic. Others, like Anstice, have the ability to Heal."

"Jedrik?"

"Visionary. And before you ask, no, he can't see into the future. He can see through things, like walls, wood, and he is capable of seeing in complete darkness."

"And that guy, Hack?"

"Taster. Certain sensors in his mouth give off warnings. If a vampire is near, he'll get the taste of black licorice."

"Black licorice? Ryszard. Like Ryszard." This was real. What he was telling me was all in-the-face real. What the hell do you say when a guy you've slept with tells you that he is a Scar, besides 'holy shit.' My mind was fighting the possibility that all this was real, but too much made sense to be some kind of, well, I didn't know what. Why would any of them make this shit up?

"You good?"

Our eyes locked briefly and I saw the concern in his depths. Whatever it was between us, the connection, it brought with it trust. I trusted this guy. Good thing too, because we were going to Spain . . . shit we were leaving. "My cat. What about my cat? Someone has to feed him." I knew it sounded ridiculous, but Splat was all I had left.

"Your cat?" Balen asked, his brows lowering.

"Yeah. You know, that big orange ball of fur. We're going to Spain, right? We have to get someone to look after him. Maybe if we go back . . . ?" Splat would have a coronary without his meals.

Balen pointed at the sky. "You see that storm following us? You hear the wind? Wraiths. Waleron is holding them back, or we'd be dead by now. I'm not stopping or going back for a goddamn cat."

"But—"

"I'll contact Anstice and Keir as soon as things settle down."

"Through the mind thing?"

Balen chuckled. "No. Cell phone. I can't use my telepathy right now. The Wraiths can feel the energy."

"So, can you read my thoughts?" I raised my brows and waited, watching him for any subtle smile to tell me he was. "Do you know how damn sexy I think you are?"

"I'd rather hear it from you," Balen said.

I laughed. "Hmm, I bet." I leaned my head back against the leather seat. "So, if we escape these Wraiths, what next?"

Balen cleared his throat. "Waleron has a plan."

"Which is?" I glanced over at him. He was frowning. Frowning wasn't good. "He wants to make you one of us." My breath hitched. "Let me explain before you decide your better option is to jump out of the car. If you go through a transition, the Bonding spell may be broken."

"May?" I huffed. "Not too promising a plan. And it would be nice to know what you mean by Bonding spell."

Balen explained the ancient spell. It made sense. Perfect sense actually, but when bombarded with a whole new world within the world you lived in, it was difficult to know if anything really was making sense at all.

"It's all we have at the moment," Balen continued. "We stay here, the Wraiths will find us. They catch me . . . fuck. It's not good."

"Unless I do this transition and the Bond is broken, I die. Right?"

He hesitated. "Something like that."

Holy bejesus. This was so not good. "I don't know if this is such a great idea."

"Not really an idea here. It's a do or die. If I'm taken from you, you _will_ die and I'm not letting that happen. Even if the Bond isn't broken by the transition, you'll still have a chance of surviving if you're a Scar. I can't take the risk of not doing this."

"But if we run or maybe talk to that water woman—"

"Damn it, Danni." His fist pounded the steering wheel. "This is your only chance. And I'm not letting you die because of me."

The muscles in his shoulders tensed and his brows were low over his eyes, knuckles white. And yeah, I was scared. Scared of becoming something I knew shit about, running for my life from some spirit things. I felt the strong connection between us, but was it from this Bond thing? What would happen when the Bond was broken? Would I still feel this need for him? Would I no longer care about him? I wasn't sure what was real and what was caused by the spell.

His hand linked with mine and he squeezed. "I won't let anything happen to you."

I tried to pull my hand away, but he only tightened his grip. "You can't make that kind of promise, Balen."

"It won't change. What's between us, it will always be. Bonded or not."

I gave up on getting my hand back and stared out the side window. "I don't do relationships," I mumbled.

Balen chuckled. "You do now."

I TESTED THE THICK, gold bands circling my wrists and ankles. Solid and impossible to break. I paced the room, my footfalls driving into the floor with each step. The room was completely bare, not even a door, just gray marble walls, ceiling, and floor. I was in a cage with no bars. My nightmare.

They took my weapons and pills, I fought them on the latter, then Traced me here hours ago. I had no clue if Balen and Danielle had escaped or not. The problem was, I had to meet them in Spain for Danielle's transition. A transition that had never been done before.

The walls closed in around me as I felt the rage building. Confinement was my nemesis. After years in a Lilac's prison, any form of containment broke through my cool exterior and pushed at my control. I was breaking and it didn't help that I was damn sure Edan had started this.

No doubt the fire Wraith had demanded retaliation against Balen before I was even consulted. If it hadn't been for Genevieve's warning, Balen would be in Rest and Danielle dead.

Genevieve. She had something to do with what was happening between Balen and Danielle. I knew there was something odd about her behavior at the Deaconry meeting. Her turmoil, the unease, the hesitation to decide on Balen's fate. Then her sudden change.

I stopped pacing and jerked around as a mist of water formed then Genevieve stood before me in a classic, long, blue gown, low cut and sweeping across her curves like a caress.

"Come near me and die," I said when I saw her take a step in my direction.

She stopped and lowered her head, her golden hair falling forward to blanket her breasts. "I didn't want this. My intentions were—"

"What intentions?" A caress and burning sensation began on my neck as my Ink awakened. I needed my damn pills.

"I felt it the moment they met in those . . . cages. Their connection was so strong." She backed up a step and her eyes blazed a brilliant green. "Then your Scar left with no intentions of returning. But Danielle, she was tortured with his memory. When he returned, I had to do something."

"You Bonded them." My voice quivered with fury. "You almost killed her with your meddling."

"I meant no harm. I didn't consider his punishment would be so harsh. I saved her life."

"She's human," I shouted.

"Yes. But he loves her."

"You were wrong. Undo it."

"No." Her chin tilted up and her shoulders stiffened. "It has worked out for the better."

I ran at her, my rage taking control. I raised my hands to throw her back against the unrelenting wall. She remained immobile and I figured out why when the gold bands around my wrists and ankles tightened and yanked me backward like a sling shot and I slammed into the opposite wall. I tried to move, but the bands locked me in place.

A roar emerged. "Release me!"

"The bands know when you aim to harm. I can't do anything." She sighed. "If I undo the Bond, Balen will accept his fate and be sent to Rest then exile."

"She'll die if they capture him."

"No. Now she will become a Scar."

It was the only option and Genevieve very well knew it. "It has never been done before. You risk her life, for what—love? They don't even know one another. What they feel right now is your Bond." She was cunning, more so than I'd anticipated. "You planned this. You knew the moment judgment passed on Balen that your Bond would kill Danielle. You had Delara warn me. You set this in motion, knowing I'd never allow Danielle to die."

"Yes. She will make the transition and they will have eternity together."

"You believe in this crap, Genevieve? A love that can withstand centuries?"

"You've experienced it—"

"And it destroys," I shouted. "As it will Balen. He'll be weak and forget that he's a Scar first and foremost."

"You want your Scars to be just like you. Alone and with nothing to lose."

"Balen betrayed us, his sister, and his blood for her." The bands released and I lowered my arms.

"But you fight for them. Why?"

"Because he is a Scar and she's a friend to our Healer. We're here to protect humans. All of them."

Genevieve stiffened. "I must go. When the time is right, I'll come for you." She closed her eyes, then dissolved into a swirling mist and vanished.

Within seconds, I discovered why Genevieve had taken off so abruptly. "What have you done, Waleron?"

The voice was soft with a sweet lull, but I knew beneath that voice was a spirit of power. The Goddess Azzurra tolerated nothing except her orders being followed. I'd met her two times in my life—when I was a child and again after I escaped the Lilac.

Coldness seeped into the room as if I were standing in a freezer. A hint of lavender and rose wafted into me, and then she appeared in human form.

I remained silent. She knew what I'd done; the other Wraiths would have informed her in detail.

Her long, floor-length hair was parted in the middle, half cerulean blue and the other half white. It was a stark contrast and, well, she knew it. She always liked being unique.

"You didn't put him in Rest. Why?" Her features remained still and impassive, voice quiet and soft, but it was in her eyes that I read the anger. Their colors were constantly changing, never remaining the same for longer than a few seconds.

My body was reacting, shaking, and beginning to perspire despite the nonexistent temperature. I clasped and unclasped my fists. _Control._ If I lost it now, she'd chain me in this room for eternity.

"A human would've died if Balen was sent to Rest. They're Bonded," I stated.

"Why did you not mention this at the Deaconry?"

"I didn't know then." My rage was clawing at my insides, wanting to be released, eager to taste blood and rip apart anything that could satisfy it. The tattoo on my neck began to slither across my skin, and soon, I'd have no control. I needed my pills or out of this room. Soon.

The bands on my wrists tightened and I took several deep breaths. Trapped in a room by a female was not something that helped my anger. It made it worse.

"Who Bonded them?"

I hesitated. Azzurra didn't know a Wraith was responsible? Interesting. Well, I had no intention of informing her of Genevieve's meddling, as I might yet require the Wraith of Water's assistance to get me the hell out of here.

"I don't repeat myself," she said.

"And I don't always have to answer to you." I was eager for harsh retaliation. I knew pain, lived it, and it had become a familiar and comforting emotion. I never feared it, not like the rage that lived hovering close to my surface, ready to be released. Pain was my control. I needed it more than anything.

Azzurra laughed, her head thrown back and a wide smile extenuating her exotic mouth. "The ever-defiant one. I knew that's why I liked you. Just like your mother. You realize you're the only one ever to speak to me as such? Refreshing and . . . stupid. Have it your way. You'll remain in the realm until Balen is brought to justice." The smile disappeared. "You'll be free to walk among us here as a sign of respect. However, the gold bands will remain. But you may have this." She threw me the duck head dispenser. "I know of your rage, Waleron, and your Ink. Remain under control whilst living among us, or you will spend your days here in this room. And I know it's the last place you would choose to be."

Before she evaporated, she floated into the air and peered at me. "I hope for your sake this matter is resolved. It would displease me greatly to have to replicate your mother's fate."

"Like it matters to me." Death would end my torment, stop the rage and my constant need to feel pain.

But I'd never leave her. Never be able to walk away from one woman.

Azzurra tilted her head, and for several seconds, her eyes remained a bright gold. "I like you, Waleron. But remember, without me, you and your Scars will cease to exist."

"And without us, you will have no one to fight."

"Touché," she said, smiling. "Well then, it is in our best interests to continue to work together." Her figure began to dissolve into particles of brightly-colored specks, then she disappeared, taking the coldness with her.

The wall in front of me dissolved into nothing and, suddenly, I was standing in the Deaconry room. Shit, the Wraiths had more power than they knew what to do with. I walked out of the room, down a hall, and into a garden with dozens and dozens of red and white roses. I ignored the flowers and walked the path. I had no clue where I was headed, but it was someplace other than that gray room.

My breath sucked from my lungs, and my body froze. Her familiar scent slammed into me like a brick wall. I never forgot it. Never could. Even with all my powers, I couldn't erase the one scent that ripped me apart too many times to count.

But it was impossible, because she couldn't be in the realm.

Yet I heard her footsteps.

Her breath.

She was here. Behind me.

I turned.

I had no place to run. He'd already sensed me behind him. Christ, this was the worst possible scenario. I never intended him to find out I was here. It was my haven away from him, away from the constant torture of his memory invading my mind. Maybe this time it wouldn't hurt as much.

"What the hell are you doing here, Delara?" His voice was cruel, low and husky. I knew that voice and it made me want to run, leg muscles twitching to take the familiar road and escape. It wasn't because I feared him, but because it brought back memories of what he'd said to me that day when he ripped me apart and left.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. "Answer me," Waleron shouted.

I jerked. It was rare he shouted. He was always in control, steady and stable, but it was different today. My eyes drifted to his fists and when I looked back up at him, I saw the flicker of . . . unease. That was impossible. Waleron was as hard as a freakin' rock. But as he strode toward me, I noticed his hands uncurl. Three steps, two steps, one step. The air left my lungs as his scent barreled into me.

His voice softened. "Delara, answer me."

I licked my dry lips and straightened my back as I faced the one man who had destroyed my heart. But I was stronger now. I'd repaired it.

Before I could answer, a ball of fire appeared and Edan flashed into human form beside me.

Shit.

His arm went around my waist and he pulled me against his side. Double shit.

It was the first time I'd ever seen Waleron surprised, but his reaction was quick. His brows rose and the blue in his eyes flashed lighter then went dark again. His stunned look disappeared and was replaced with the familiar resolve of a man with power and control.

"Edan." Waleron bowed his head with respect and Edan, surprisingly, returned the gesture.

Edan half smiled. "So, it appears you've discovered our little secret." He shrugged as if he didn't care that anyone knew I was living in the realm.

"She's a Scar, Edan," Waleron reminded him.

I stiffened. "I can go wherever I want."

Waleron hesitated, his eyes driving into mine like a dagger. "Yes. But not here."

"She belongs to me now," Edan stated.

Whoa. What the hell? I stepped from his embrace. "I belong to no one." Edan should know better. Scars and Wraiths were possessive, but that didn't mean I would be treated like I was owned by one.

Edan kept his eyes on Waleron as he responded, "You're right."

I laid my hand on Edan's forearm. "Can you give us a minute?"

Edan hesitated, and I knew he was thinking of refusing the request by the look of disgust on his face. But, he gave a curt nod and then disappeared in the same fashion he'd appeared.

"You can't stay here," Waleron said as soon as Edan was gone.

"I—"

"No, damn it."

I shifted uneasily as his gaze roamed over my body and then up to meet my eyes. I saw pain. His pain. It was there in the cool glint of his gaze, and I had to step back to keep from throwing myself into his arms. Arms that had refused to hold me, to believe in what we had.

"You're a Tracker," Waleron said. "You _belong_ . . ." he hesitated, and then he made a gesture I'd never seen before. He ran his hand over his shaved head. He was frustrated. That steady, cold reserve had escaped him. "With us."

He didn't say with _me._ He didn't say I belonged in his arms or in his bed, or by his side. It was with _us,_ the Scars. He said the same old shit. I tilted my chin up. This was finished. I'd end this now for my sake, for my heart, for my sanity. "You've ripped my heart out for the last time, Tac." He flinched. "You destroyed me. You took my love, and then threw it away like garbage. I deserve better." I hesitated for a second to try and get my breathing under control. "I am taking my heart back."

"Delara, I . . ." Waleron, for once in his life, stumbled on his words. "I can't." And then he said a word I'd never heard pass his lips. " _Please,_ try to understand."

One word wasn't going to do it. "Jesus. Understand? It's too late. I have nothing left. Unlike you, I believe in love." I raised my voice. "Love, Waleron. Something you'll never know. Or rather, want to know."

"Delara . . ." He closed his eyes for several seconds. "I need to—"

"Need. _You_ need. It's always what you need. Leave me the hell alone." I turned, and for once I felt free from the pain that kept me locked in Waleron's web.

I walked away, and the hope that he'd call out to me had vanished. That part of my heart was gone. He was too late. I didn't want him or his cold, calculating ways, his dark side that kept him from getting close to anyone. I was saying good-bye. Good-bye was forever.

But this time, he did call out. "Delara," Waleron said, his voice cracking. "Damn it, stop." His voice was unfamiliar—haunting.

But I kept walking. They were words. Nothing he said would ever make me go back to what I'd suffered. My trust in him had been blown into oblivion and dispersed across the Earth.

As I turned the corner out of his sight, I felt the wind drift across my body. His scent carried on the breeze to surround me. Shit. I knew he'd done it. Maybe hoping I'd stop. Hoping that the words he'd spoken years too late would make me hesitate. They wouldn't.

I did stop when he materialized in front of me. I felt Edan in my mind, offering me his strength while still keeping his distance. The two men were complete opposites—fire and ice, and they sure as hell didn't mix.

Waleron grabbed my hand. "I'll try," he said. His fingers curled around mine and I felt him attempt to draw me closer. I stood my ground.

"You're saying that so I won't be with Edan." I jerked away from him.

A flash of panic swept across his face because I was right.

I laughed. "Besides, how can you try when you can't even talk to anyone about what she did to you? What you suffered for years. Try? Try to what—love?" I snorted. "You don't know how to love anymore."

"Don't do this."

"Did you listen to me at all? I said you ripped out my heart. You don't know what that feels like. You're numb. You keep yourself numb with those bloody pills. You're not _willing_ to feel again or to stop hiding behind the drugs." I crossed my arms. "All those times you said it, you were right. You can't love because you don't believe in it any longer. She destroyed that in you and I'm tired of trying to get it back for you." I stepped back when he reached for me. "No."

The hurt and pain I saw in his eyes vanished and Waleron's familiar cold resolve came back like a steel shield over his face. "The Talde needs you."

"And I'll be there for them when they ask me." I walked away, the ache still real even though I tried to deny it.

"YOU KNOW WHAT?" I fiddled with the channels on the radio after a three hour nap. "I don't even know what music you like." I glanced at him and he shrugged, eyes focused on the road. "No favorite bands? Come on. Fess up, Bale."

"Bale?" He frowned.

It was my turn to shrug. "Yeah, I like it. Short, sweet, and—" I gave an exaggerated sigh "—my favorite actor's last name. Christian Bale. So hot in _Batman Begins._ I mean, I'd jump his bones in a second, no introduction needed."

"Fuck that," Balen ground out.

I gave my most innocent expression. "Oh, I most definitely would. Did you see the movie? That man comes knocking on my door—"

I didn't have the chance to finish as he grabbed the back of my neck. "I don't like the name Bale and I don't share."

Shit, I loved how his fingers caressed my neck and weaved into my hair. It was a small movement that just felt . . . shit, it felt sweet and possessive. Suddenly, I was thinking about pulling over and doing it on the hood like he'd mentioned. I slid my hand onto his thigh and his fingers on my neck tensed. I slowly caressed downward between his legs.

"Baby."

"Hmm." I moved my hand to his cock and smiled when he groaned.

"Jesus." The car swerved and the tires skidded on the shoulder. "Fuck." He grabbed my hand and pulled it away. "You remember what I said about fucking you from behind. You do that again, we're stopping this car. And I don't give a shit whether anyone sees what I do to you on the side of the road."

I bit my lower lip. "As hot as that sounds, we're on the run, remember."

"I know how to do quick and hard. You don't have anything to be worried about."

God, I wanted to suck his cock, and then have him take me from behind. Up against the hood of the car sounded like something I'd like—a lot, just not on the side of the highway. I shifted in my seat as I thought of his hands on my hips, his cock driving into me again and again.

Could he really read my thoughts? My gaze went to between his legs and, from the bulge, I knew he was still hard. "Are you using your telepathy?"

Balen glanced over at me. "Why the fuck are you looking at my cock like that?"

"Because it's hard and I was thinking about what you said. So were you?"

"No. And I'm hard because I want to fuck you. Don't need to read your thoughts to get hard." He shrugged. "But it's disrespectful to read others' thoughts. We communicate through our minds, but try to refrain from taking on others' thoughts for privacy reasons. You can learn to block others, but it takes time to learn that. To the ancients, it's natural."

"Are you an ancient?"

"Yes. Would you like to know how old I am?"

I scrunched my nose. Did I? "Will I be totally turned off? Because I never date men more than ten years older. It's a rule."

"I'm definitely over the ten year rule, but it's too late for you. You're already mine," Balen replied.

I laughed. "Ha. I'm not yours. Now, tell me how old you are."

"One hundred and ninety-six."

"Holy shit." I gaped at him. He was really immortal. That meant . . ."So when we do this thing, this transformation, will I stay looking like this for the rest of my life?"

"How old are you?" Balen asked.

"Twenty-seven."

"We stop aging at thirty-two." He pulled the car off a side street and turned down a dark dirt road.

"Sweet." That was a woman's fantasy come true. "No more anti-aging creams and worrying about varicose veins and sagging boobs."

His eyes locked with mine and shivers trickled across my skin. "I'd still want you. I'll always want you."

I looked away. He spoke as if we'd be together forever, but the reality was, we barely knew one another and we were connected because of a spell. All this, what we felt, would disappear. "So, are we stopping soon?"

"Ryker's place is just ahead. We'll stay there until Waleron lets us know it's safe to fly to Spain."

I crossed my legs, shifting in my seat. "Can you be more specific on just ahead because I drank a lot of water and my bladder is bursting."

Balen raised his brows. "Do you ever not say it like it is? No, don't answer that. I think I already know." He slowed the car. "I could pull over?"

I snorted. "You concentrate on finding me a washroom fast. One with four walls and a toilet."

He put his foot back down on the gas and the car skidded forward. "How long?"

"Before what?"

"Before it bursts?" Balen smirked and it was cute, he could be cute and sweet and I didn't want this to vanish.

I liked how comfortable it was talking to him. Usually, guys were taken back by my forwardness, but Balen adapted to my nature and it made me feel as if I'd known him for ages. "Maybe, five minutes."

"Then I'll get you there in two."

Balen held my hand as we walked up to a massive, old, stone house that sat on top of a hill a half mile back from the road. It appeared desolate and cold, snow blanketing the bare limbs of trees scattered randomly across the expansive property.

He kept himself slightly in front of me as we approached the house. The door opened before we reached the stone steps and a man with shoulder-length, black hair, tall and muscled, blocked the doorway.

I hesitated and Balen squeezed my hand reassuringly.

The guy grinned, flashing perfect white teeth. "Balen." He held out his hand and they shook and slapped one another on the back. "Good to see you." Turning to me, he nodded politely. "A pleasure, Danielle. I'm Ryker."

"Please, call me Danni." Ryker's eyes roamed the length of me. It wasn't sexual or anything, more as if he was assessing me.

"Come in." Ryker stepped back from the door and Balen looped his arm around my waist as we went inside.

"Keir tell you what's going down?" Balen asked.

"That the Wraiths want your head on their altar?" Ryker shrugged. "We protect our own."

"And we're not a fan of the Wraiths anyway." A woman's soft, lyrical voice billowed down from the top of the spiral staircase.

Her hair was the color of the sun, and as she drew closer, I noticed her soft, angelic features with azure eyes that sparkled with intelligence and warmth.

Ryker strode over to her and kissed her, his hands lingering on her hips. "My other half. Hannah."

She radiated a brilliant smile as she walked over to Balen and kissed both his cheeks. "It's good to see you made it here safely. I'm so pleased Keir asked us for our assistance. Ryker and I heard what happened with Ryszard a couple years ago." Hannah pulled me into a warm embrace. "I'm honored to meet you."

Ryker chuckled. "My maite, Hannah, has been eager to meet you, Danni."

Hannah took my hand from Balen's. "Come on. I'll show you where the washroom is so you can get cleaned up and then we will have tea. In the morning, you can meet Kilter. He loves to cook and makes the best eggs you've ever tasted."

Balen's firm voice caused me to hesitate from leaving his side. "Kilter resides here?"

Ryker replied, "Yes. But he's . . . controlled. He'll never harm your woman, Balen." Well, that was good to know. "Well, not physically anyway, can't say much for his mouth. Hannah has taken a real liking to him over the years."

Balen grunted then looked at me and nodded. "It's okay."

"Sweetie, go show Balen the guest rooms."

"Our room," Balen corrected. "She stays with me."

Hannah laughed. "Oh, man, he has it bad. Don't worry, you get used to the caveman shit."

After I used the bathroom, we sat in the kitchen at the island on barstools with two steaming cups of green tea. I was overwhelmed by Hannah's kindness as it was three in the morning and I could tell she was exhausted by her pale face and slow movements. But she insisted on chatting and making me feel at home. "When Keir told my husband you were coming, I was so excited to meet you. Not that I'm glad about the Wraiths pursuing Balen, it's just that I heard about what happened with Ryzsard. It's not often a human survives a vampire. Balen saved your life."

I cupped my hands around the warm mug of tea. "Yeah, he did," I said quietly. He protected me from Ryszard by sacrificing himself.

Hannah patted my arm. "Don't worry. It will work out. Waleron won't have it any other way. Have you met him yet?" I nodded. "Isn't he an ice-cold asshole?"

I snorted. "I nearly peed my pants when I met him. Then when he opened his mouth, I wanted to punch him and run and hide."

Hannah laughed and it sounded light and infectious. "I've never told Ryker this because it would go to his head, but I thanked God he was with me when I met Waleron. I can face an enemy like any Scar, but Waleron . . . Jesus, he's scary."

"You're a Scar? Like Balen?" I hadn't considered that she was one as well, but it made sense. I was surprised this fragile woman fought against guys like Ryszard.

Hannah nodded. "That's how I met Ryker. I'm a Sounder." I wasn't sure what that meant and Hannah must've picked up on my puzzled expression, because she said, "I can hear sounds for about a two-mile radius. "I met Ryker about sixty years ago when my Talde was attacked. Long story short, Ryker saved my life. Been together ever since." She smiled. "Ryker is a Visionary. He and Keir are good friends, although we haven't been to Toronto in decades."

"Okay, info overload, this all has been . . . pretty freaky." Or insane. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Scars, vampires and witches exist. And the Wraiths . . . I don't even know what to think of them."

Hannah put her hand on mine. "You're a brave woman, Danni. What you survived with Ryszard, and now this."

"I've been scared for two years, Hannah. That's not brave."

"Bravery is defined in many ways," Hannah said, keeping her voice soft as a feather floating through the air. "You survived. You sit here beside me and breathe and smile and look radiant. You feel for Balen, not for saving your life, but for who he is. And yes, I can tell how much you care for him. Anyone can see it just by how you look at him." Hannah sighed and rested her hand on top of mine. "The Wraiths abide by the laws. Just be careful. Don't stay too long in one place or nature will tell them where you are."

"Will they know you helped us?"

"Yes." Hannah smiled. "And they'll do something to piss Ryker off." She lowered her voice and leaned in. "But when Ryker gets mad, he's hotter than hell and the sex . . ."

I laughed.

"And speaking of which," Hannah winked and got up, "my husband is insisting I come to bed. We were up most of the night . . . working." I had no idea what working meant to a Scar and I suspected now wasn't the time to ask. "Truth is, Ryker hates to sleep alone. Balen is in the guest room beside the bathroom. From the sounds of it, he's in the shower. When Kilter gets back, he'll fix you and Balen something to eat. Or help yourself."

"I am hungry. Balen would only stop for bathroom breaks and snacks," I admitted. "Thank you, Hannah."

Hannah kissed me on the cheeks then straightened abruptly, her gaze turning toward the window. "God, I must be really tired. I'm hearing things. I'll be right back. I just need to check something."

"Do you need some help?" I asked. Not that I could help a Scar.

Hannah opened the side door. "No. No. Just relax. Sometimes when I'm overtired, I have trouble blocking sounds out. I'll just check it out."

I helped myself to more tea and decided I'd get started on making something to eat for me and Balen.

I found the frying pan in the drawer beneath the stainless-steel stove and grabbed the carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. I was about to place them on the counter when a loud crash next to me sent the eggs flying and I stumbled backward into the barstools. The window above the sink shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere.

Something flew through the air and landed under the stool and began leaking green smoke. What the hell? I coughed and gagged at the smell and quickly covered my nose and mouth as the pungent smell filled the room in a dense cloud.

I stumbled from the kitchen and plowed into a hard chest. "Balen what is . . ." I looked up and saw the man was wearing a balaclava and holding a knife.

I spun around to run in the other direction when a hand locked on my arm and yanked me back. I slammed my elbow into his stomach and the guy grunted then hitched my arm up behind my back until I cried out.

"Got one," the man said.

I screamed as he jerked up harder on my arm and I fell to my knees. I struggle against his hold, but he flipped me onto my back, straddled me and wrapped his hand around my neck, crushing my windpipe. I pulled and pried at his fingers, my lungs screaming for air.

Then I saw it. A needle. He bit off the cap and thrust it toward my neck.

I kicked my legs as I felt the pinprick.

Suddenly, he was thrown off me and fell beside me; a knife plunged into the side of his neck. He made this strange gurgling noise as blood spewed from his mouth before his eyes went dead.

"Oh, my God." I scrambled to my hands and knees, trying to get away, when someone grabbed my elbow and jerked me to my feet.

"No. Let me go!" I clutched the doorframe.

His fingers dug into both my shoulders and he gave me a vicious shake. "For fuck's sake. Stop being a bitch and stop fighting me," the man said in a deep graveled tone. He knocked my hand away from the frame, lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"No," I screamed. "Put me down." I pounded my fists into his back, but it had no effect as he ran out the front door.

"Shut the fuck up before I shut you up for good."

I stilled.

He darted across the yard then down the side of a steep hill into a wooded area. He skidded to a stop, threw me off his shoulder and I landed on my butt in the snow. I scuttled to my feet and was about to run back toward the house when his words stopped me.

"Run and I'll kill you."

I looked up when I heard a click.

The guy pointed a gun at me and he was staring at me like he'd pull the trigger if I even considered moving. He had to be over six-foot-two with jet black eyes and severe features. There was no forgiveness in this man's expression and I had no doubt he'd shoot me if I pissed him off.

He strode over to a large rock in the side of the hill and pressed something on the rough surface. My breath hitched as a door creaked open. "Inside," he said.

My chest tightened as I stared at the small darkened door. No way in hell was I going in there. I'd take my chances with pissing him off.

He dove for me before I even made a step in the opposite direction. "Don't. Even. Try it." He grabbed my arm and shoved me ahead of him into the cave. The door rumbled and slid closed behind us and I tried to scream but my throat was so tight I wheezed. He pushed me forward and I stumbled into the wall, palms scrapping against the harsh surface.

"Move," he said.

I couldn't. My limbs refused to function.

Dampness. Water dripping, echoing. The musty scent. Damn it, why wouldn't this shit go away? I struggled to block it out, fight the panic that encroached.

Suddenly, my feet left the ground and I was picked up and thrown over his shoulder again.

After a few minutes, he stopped, dumped me on my ass again and strode away. Darkness turned into a flickering soft haze as he lit several large white candles, which were perched on a ledge. We were in a small clearing inside the cave.

"Are you fuckin' stupid?"

I jerked at his abrupt harsh tone. "What?" For a split second, my anger lessened the panic trolling my insides.

"If you had any fuckin' sense, you would've pulled that knife from your back pocket and killed that guy. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Who are—"

"Shut up so I can think."

"I can't be separated from—"

"Balen. I know. You're Bonded." He strode toward me and I noticed the stark black tattoo on the back of his hand, a hand that was holding the gun.

"Who are you? What do you want with me?"

He grunted. "I want you not to be so fuckin' stupid next time. And the name's Kilter." He saw my surprised expression and laughed. It was a mean laugh and I didn't like it at all.

Hannah had said this Kilter guy could cook—what? Humans?

The candlelight flickered and I glimpsed a scar that ran across his face, long and jagged from his brow down to the lobe of his right ear. His eyes flashed a look of humor at my perusal of his disfigurement.

"A gift from an old friend. He's dead." His long, lean legs moved with precision as he walked to the tunnel we'd just come from. "Don't fuckin' move."

He was leaving? Relief and panic played tug-of-war with my mind. I watched the candlelight dance on the walls of the cave, struggling to fight the flashbacks of the cages. I squeezed my eyes closed, and a flash of me lying on a steel table, long dagger-like fingernails trailing down my chest.

Chains tied me down. I was so cold. Shivering constantly. Then I saw him. Ryszard hovering over me, his fangs dripping with blood.

I screamed at the memory . . . at Ryszard. He wasn't going to win.

I jolted as something hard smacked me on the cheek. "Woman, open your eyes and look at me."

I opened my eyes and stared into Kilter's furious expression. My cheek burned and his bruising fingers dug into my shoulders. I pushed his hands off me then used the wall for support as I climbed to my feet. "I have to find Balen."

"Sit the fuck down. We'll wait until the fight is over," Kilter said as he pushed me back down on my butt again.

"Fight?"

"Are you deaf?"

Was it the Wraiths? Had they found us? They'll take Balen.

"No, it's not the Wraiths. If it was, you'd be dead by now and Balen in Rest."

He was reading my thoughts. I felt him lurking, like a cement weight dragging across my mind. "Stop it. It hurts," I said and put my hands to my head.

"Do I look like I care?"

No, he looked like he didn't care about anything or anyone.

"You're right about that. And I don't give a shit about you." He shrugged. "But I protect the Talde, and if that means protecting you, then so be it. But don't think I won't kill you if you risk the lives of the others. I'd hand you over to the Wraiths on a silver platter if I had to. And baby, I'd sleep just fine."

I swiftly inhaled as footsteps charged down the tunnel. I tensed, but when I looked at Kilter, he was completely relaxed, leaning up against the cave wall, arms and ankles crossed.

Two men came into the clearing; one had short, blond hair curled at the tips, and eyes a pale green. The other was taller and the complete opposite, dark with spiked hair and tattoos all over the backs of his hands. He was first to step forward.

He frowned at Kilter and gestured to the gun. "You scaring the crap out of her? You're such an ass." He walked over and extended his hand. "I'm Sandor and that is Derek."

"Balen?"

"He's fine." He smiled. "He told Kilter to get you out of there. Asshole here was closest to you. Sorry you had to put up with his shit."

Kilter shrugged then shoved passed Derek and disappeared down the tunnel.

"Is he always like that?"

"You mean a total dick?" He guided me toward the tunnel, his hand casually on the small of my back. "Yeah. It takes a few decades before you get used to him."

As soon as I walked out of the tunnel and the wind hit my skin, the anxiety eased. I took several deep breaths and the tingling in my limbs slowly disappeared. I didn't wait for Sandor or Derek as I took off for the house. I pushed open the door, and ran for the guest bedroom, slamming into Balen so hard we crashed to the floor.

"Danni," Balen said then chuckled and wrapped his arms around me. "You good?"

God, he sounded like what just happened wasn't a big deal. Shit, it probably wasn't—to him. To me, this was scary as hell.

I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him toward me then kissed him. His groan vibrated against my mouth and then his hand was in my hair and the other under my shirt at the small of my back, holding me tight to him.

I pulled back, breathing hard, my insides quaking with a mixture of desire and fear and uncertainty at what the hell was happening.

"Are you going to kiss me like that every time we get attacked? Because that's hot, babe." He tweaked my chin with his thumb and kissed my temple.

"I thought you were . . . I mean, Kilter took me . . . I was scared out of my mind and . . ." I paused and took a breath.

We were running for our lives away from some spirit things. We were Bonded by a spell, and we'd just been attacked by guys with needles. "Don't you ever die on me."

He ran his finger down the side of my face. "I'll try not to, little one."

I WALKED INTO THE kitchen an hour later while Balen talked on his phone in the living room. Hannah sat on the kitchen counter with Ryker standing between her legs, kissing her. I cleared my throat and they took their time separating. Well, Ryker did, and Hannah was beet red by the time he stepped back, but her eyes were smoldering with desire.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"Oh, don't be silly." Hannah shoved Ryker's wandering hands away. "My sweet, adoring husband sometimes forgets that we live with others."

Ryker grinned, then pinched her ass, which made her squeal and fall off the counter into his arms.

She slapped his hands away as he continued to fondle her ass. "I'm so sorry about this morning," Hannah said. "We've been aware of this group watching us, but it's been months and they've done nothing to indicate an attack."

It was odd; they were so casual about what had gone down an hour ago as if nothing happened. "Was that what you heard earlier?" I asked.

Hannah nodded. "Ryker was pissed off I woke him for a fight instead of something else. Weren't you, sweetie?"

Ryker grunted.

Hannah leaned back into him and his arms settled around her waist. "We underestimated them."

I remembered the needle coming close to plunging into my neck. "Who were they? What do they want?"

Ryker put his hand on Hannah's arm when she went to answer.

Hannah's eyes avoided mine and her lips pursed together. Was she hiding something? Why? What did it matter if I knew about them?

"Maybe we should call the police or something," I suggested.

Ryker laughed. Hannah punched him in the arm and he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. Damn, that man was totally in love with her.

Ryker spoke, "We fight our own enemies. And we'll go after them soon enough." He raised his brows and grinned. "You met Kilter."

"Umm, yeah. Nice guy."

Ryker snorted and Hannah laughed. "He takes getting used to."

Getting used to? Yeah, I'd never like that guy. His name was in the dictionary under the definition of asshole. I was pretty damn certain the guy killed as a hobby.

Hannah walked over to me and gently took hold of my wrist then placed a beautiful white pearled bracelet around my wrist. "It's stunning. What—"

She closed her hand over the bracelet. "It will light your way."

I didn't have time to ask her meaning when Balen came in.

"Danni." He came up beside me and slid his hand down my arm then linked our hands. "We have to go. The plane is waiting at the airport."

We said our goodbyes to everyone except Kilter, who hadn't appeared since he left the cave. I rubbed the bracelet on my wrist that Hannah had given me. The white pearls around my wrist glowed soft lavender, and a strange comfort encompassed me as we walked out to the car.

"So, we have what, two hours of driving? Plenty of time to spill our deepest, darkest secrets," I said. "How about a game?"

"A game?" Balen raised his brows as he started the car.

"Yeah. My father and I used to play it at the hospital when my mom was sick. I ask a question that requires a one-word answer, then you get to ask a question. I'll start. And I'll make it easy. Favorite food. So I have to answer first and then you. Mine is watermelon."

"You," Balen answered.

I laughed. "Not fair. A food, dingbat."

"Dingbat? What the hell, babe?"

I laughed and he smiled. "Favorite food, besides me, and it can be anything in this world."

"Rippled sour cream and onion potato chips."

"Really? What about the thin ones? They're thinner, easier to put more in your mouth at once than the rippled ones. But if that's your choice . . ." I shrugged. "Now your turn."

Balen kept his eyes on the road, while his fingers tapped the steering wheel.

"Oh, come on. Hurry up," I said, crossing my arms.

"Your favorite scent." He turned toward me and said, "You first."

"That's so not fair," I protested. "But I'll allow this, considering this is your first time playing and you're perhaps shy about giving your answers." I smiled when he flinched at the word _shy._ Well, maybe next time he'd step up to the plate and go first. "Cinnamon."

He chuckled and I smacked his arm. "Why are you laughing? I love cinnamon."

"Cinnamon is a sign that love is near."

"Really? Huh, well, I did think Sandor was kind of cute, so maybe—"

His gaze darted to me, expression dark and intense. "Fuck that. We're never going back there."

I put my legs up so my feet rested on the dash. "And yours?"

"You." I rolled my eyes. "You smell like Papaya with a dash of coconut," Balen said.

"Balen."

He chuckled. "Fine, the smell of your pulse beating beneath your skin." He put his finger on my throat. "Right here."

"But that's cheating. It's still me and a pulse doesn't have a smell."

"Oh, but it does. You forget I am a Scar. I can smell your pulse beating faster right this second. It releases sweetness from your pores when you're hot for me." He grinned and leaned over and nibbled my neck.

I giggled then abruptly stopped.

Terror barreled into me and I gasped then violently shoved him back, my hand rubbing my throat as the memory hit me—Ryszard biting my neck, pain, blood rising to the surface and then . . . Balen. He was walking toward me, his eyes filled with anguish, the words floating over my mind. "I'm sorry," he'd said.

My eyes met his. "No. Balen, no."

Balen reached for my hand and I snatched it away. "Fuck, Danni. I had to." His voice was calm and quiet, but I heard the mild tremor in it. "Ryszard would've kept you for himself."

"He . . . he bit my neck and then you . . . Oh, my God, you drank from me." I looked at him with horror. "I passed out. You nearly killed me."

"Jesus." Balen swung the car over to the side of the road and threw it in park.

I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. "You bastard. You nearly killed me. How could you? How could you do that? You knew I hated it when he bit me. You heard me screaming for him to stop, yet you did it to me yourself." I unclipped my seatbelt then fumbled with the door handle as my hand shook.

I was suffocating, my head reeling with confusion.

"Danni, no." Balen grabbed my arm as the door flung open.

"Let me go." I punched him in the jaw and he grunted, releasing me. "I need a minute, okay? I'm not going to take off into the fuckin' woods and disappear. I can't—remember? We're Bonded."

I watched her jump out of the car then kick at the gravel on the shoulder. She swore and gestured with her hands and, damn, she looked hotter than hell. I'd like nothing more than to throw her on the hood and fuck her on the side of the road. I'd do it, too, if I thought I might get away with it. Unfortunately, her anger was far past my ability to smooth over with sex.

I got out of the car and leaned up against the side, crossing my arms. I should've told her. I knew her memories were returning and she'd eventually find out what I'd done.

But there'd been no choice. Ryszard's plan for me was to consume his blood then drink Danni's to heighten my taste for it. It almost worked. I'd fought the craving every day. The memory of her sweetness on my tongue reminded me of exactly how my thirst could be quenched and the power it gave. But I survived it. I drove it from me until it disgusted me.

After five minutes pacing back and forth on the shoulder of the road, she climbed back into the car and slammed the door. I said nothing as I got back in and started back down the highway, waiting for the words I knew were inevitable. Danni rarely remained silent on any issue.

"Why?" she asked.

Fair enough. "I'd already taken Ryszard's blood. He had word that Keir and the others were coming and if they got to me, the chances of me turning would be greater if I'd tasted human blood."

"Turning?"

"Drinking vampire blood changes us into one of them. Ryszard needed me to be rescued, healed, and then to keep him informed of the Scars plans in order to get to Anstice. By forcing me to drink from you, it would heighten my thirst for blood, therefore, turning me quicker. Otherwise, it would have been weeks before I completely turned."

"Why did he want Anstice so badly?"

"She's a powerful Healer. More so than most. Not many healers have the ability to heal a vampire. Anstice does. Just like our mother."

Danni was silent for a minute, her gaze staring out the windshield. "Don't do it again."

"That's it?" I had meant to say it in my mind, but I was so surprised that I said it aloud.

Danni nodded. "I hated it. I hate that you did it, but I get it. You saved my life. Sometimes we have to do shitty things in order to get there. Just, don't do it again. So, what age did you have your first kiss? I was fifteen."

I shook my head, surprised she was letting it go so easily. "Twenty-five."

"Wow. Why so late? I mean, don't all guys kiss a girl in high school?"

I shrugged. "I was training to fight. I had no interest in girls at the time. Besides, there were no high schools when I was growing up."

"Right. Yeah, I guess not. So, what was her name?"

I shook my head. "That's two questions. Wait your turn."

We played the game for a while longer, then stopped to grab coffee and muffins before arriving at the airstrip where the plane waited on the tarmac.

I was excited to fly on a private jet. When in my lifetime did an opportunity like this come up? Never. Besides, it was a hell of a lot better than thinking about what we were doing and who was after us.

I peered around at the luxury of leather lounge chairs, a bar, and a flat-screen TV. I decided to sit in a seat facing backward; after all, when on an economy flight did you get to do that? He took the seat across from me; a low table sat between us.

"No fear of flying?" he asked as the plane careened at a sharp angle into the air. He stretched out his long legs and I ran my eyes up the length of them.

My belly whirled and I thought of running my hands along his tight hard muscled thighs. "Umm, no," I said then tore my gaze from him to look out the window. "It's remarkable. To think all this steel can actually sail through the air. I'm going to so hate flying economy after this."

He chuckled. "Then we shall always fly this way, little one."

_Little one._ I loved his endearments, the way they rolled off his tongue as though he'd been calling me that for years. What concerned me was how he spoke as if we'd be together forever.

What would happen when the Wraiths caught up to us? Would they order his death? What then? It would be like my parents all over again. I could never live like my father, desolate and struggling to breathe as each day grew longer and more miserable without his wife. No, I promised I'd never allow that to happen to me.

"And what about these Wraith guys?" I hated to bring up the subject, but the reality was that we were running. Balen was a wanted man and I was Bonded to him. He could be taken away at any time and I could die.

I ran my hands up and down my arms. Balen took off his seatbelt and leaned forward, taking my hands in his.

"Baby, we'll get through this."

"I wish I knew what to expect. I mean, I used to live day by day, you know, not worrying what the future holds, but now—I mean after Ryszard—it changed. I hated how I couldn't remember, and now I hate that I do. I feel seriously screwed up."

"Just confused." Balen tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear.

I took a deep breath and met his eyes. "I still feel his hands on me. The sound of the chains clanking. My wrists hurt sometimes, like they're burning. I was constantly cold afterward. For weeks I sat in the tub trying to get rid of the feeling." I lowered my head. "You'd think after going through something like that you'd appreciate life more, but I became scared of it. I was glad to have survived, but I'm tired of being scared. I hate how I panic at small spaces or how I freak out when I hear certain sounds or smell black licorice.

His hands squeezed mine, but he didn't say anything. "I feel selfish because I did live and you—you sacrificed yourself for me. You went through years of . . . hell." I tried to slip my hands from his, but he tightened his grip. "When I flipped out at the blood thing, it wasn't just because you did it. It was because I was ungrateful you did it. Guilt, I guess." His finger came under my chin and he raised my head. "I hate that you saw what happened. That you heard me scream. I never heard you scream and he—"

"Jesus." Balen unclipped my seatbelt then pulled me onto his lap. "I can't take away what happened to you, baby." He stroked my back and kissed my forehead. "What you endured is a small part of us. Let it be a small part of us. Not _all_ of us. We survived it. And we've grown into different people because of it."

He was right, but it didn't make it any easier.

Balen ran a finger down the side of my cheek and I looked up into his brilliant green eyes. "Beautiful," he whispered.

It was one word. And it filled me with warmth, not because of the word and what it meant, but how he said it, how his eyes looked and how he touched me. How could he think I was beautiful when inside, I was filled with fears, wearing a mask every day, pretending to be strong. But the reality was, I was terrified. Terrified of what I felt for this man.

The only thing I stuck with my whole life was my painting, everything else I quit, including relationships.

Would I quit him? Once this Bond was broken, would I pull away? God, I didn't want to hurt him.

"Stop thinking so much," Balen said, his arms relaxed around my waist.

I shifted in his lap to look at him and his eyes were closed. "Were you reading my thoughts?"

There was a slight upward tug on his lips. "No, but you're tense as fuck. Baby, I can feel everything about you." He opened his eyes. "And if you don't relax, I'll find a way to make you."

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. "And that would entail?"

"Fucking you."

My body instantly heated at the thought. Maybe that was what I needed. "I've never done it in a plane."

"Good to hear. I don't want to think of another guy with his hands on you. Hold my neck." I did and he came to his feet.

"The pilots—" I wrapped my legs around his waist and glanced at the cockpit door.

"Are flying the plane." He strode to the back of the plane then placed me on my feet and backed me against the wall.

"You drive me crazy, you know that." His hands slipped under my shirt and my breath hitched as his thumb grazed my nipple over the top of my bra.

Sweet moisture pooled between my legs as he nibbled my ear and his hand squeezed my ass. "This is not the Bond, Danni. Nothing can be this powerful to make me want you so fuckin' bad."

I quivered as he lowered his mouth onto mine, his assault gentle at first then harder until I was panting and pulling his hair. Needing him closer. Wanting him inside me.

He pulled back, but his body still caged me in. "Promise me, no matter what happens, you'll do the transition into a Scar." I tried to kiss him. I didn't want to talk anymore. My mind was already reeling with uncertainty at what I was doing.

He slapped his palm into the wall of the plane. "Promise me. I need to know if they take me, that you'll be safe. You'll be a Scar."

What if I transitioned and they killed him anyway? I'd still be a Scar. They had their own laws and rules and I had no idea what they even were. I couldn't even commit to a man, let alone a way of life.

What the hell was I doing? With him? With the Scars? I was contemplating doing something that would drastically change my life forever. My immortal life.

Oh, God.

"I have to go the washroom." I ducked under his arm and ran down the aisle to the bathroom and slammed the door. As soon as it clicked shut, I realized my mistake. Panic grabbed hold and I threw open the door then took off my shoe and placed it between the door and the frame so it wouldn't close completely.

I turned on the tap and splashed my face with cold water then looked in the mirror. Water dripped down my cheeks, and fear burned in my eyes. Fear. Afraid of hurting Balen, hurting myself. Of failing us both.

Jesus, what was I doing here? How did this happen?

I lowered my head and splashed more cold water on my face, trying to wash away the fear, but it wouldn't leave.

I jerked as hands rested on my hips. "Nothing's going to happen to you. I'll make sure of it." He reached forward and shut off the water. "I won't let them hurt you." He swept my hair aside, and his lips pressed on the back of my neck.

My hands tightened on the edge of the stainless steel sink. "And what about you? What happens to you?"

When he didn't say anything, the fear heightened and I felt the pressure in my chest build like I was strangling for air. His hand reached around and slipped beneath my shirt, fingers splayed across my midriff.

I looked up at our reflection. "Balen? What happens to you?"

He swung me around, lifted me up onto the sink and moved between my legs. "I don't know."

Before I could say anything, his mouth came down on mine. It was hard and possessive, the harsh bruising kiss like a statement that I was his. I stiffened at the thought, but he yanked me closer to him, and deepened the kiss until I gave in to him.

He pulled back. "We have this," he whispered. "That's what we have. And it's real."

I UNDID HER JEANS and slowly slipped them and her black panties down her legs. She was stiff and scared and I knew I was pushing her, but Danni was running. I felt her withdrawal, her resistance to my kiss. Fuck, I knew all this was a lot to handle, but we had one another. That was the one solid in all this shit.

Even though I felt like ramming my cock into her and proving what we had was real and not some fuckin' spell, she needed slow right now. I slipped my fingers between her legs and groaned. Wet. Jesus, she was wet. Her head may be fucking with what she wanted, but her body knew.

"I want your hands on my cock."

She opened her mouth, about to push me away. I could see her thinking again, wondering if this was a good idea or not. Well, I fuckin knew. I pushed two fingers hard up inside her and she arched her back and moaned, eyes closing. I didn't move.

"Take my cock out."

She swallowed, and then tried to push up with her pelvis so my fingers would drive in further, but I grabbed her hip and held her still. "Oh, no you don't."

She let go of the edge of the sink then clung to the edge of my jeans. I hissed when I heard the pop of my button and then the slow slide of the zipper.

Air sucked from my lungs as her fingers wrapped around my cock and squeezed.

"That's it. Fuck," I murmured, then pushed my two fingers in and out of her—hard but slow. I didn't stop until she was panting, eyes closed, mind focused on us and nothing else.

I took her mouth again, groaning as she moved her hand up and down my cock. I couldn't do slow. I needed her now. I pushed her hand away and positioned myself against her.

"I can't wait, baby."

"I know."

I quickly pulled a condom from my back pocket, ripped it open with my teeth and put it on. I cupped her chin. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes.

"I want you to look at me when I put my cock inside you."

She nodded.

I held my cock in my hands then jerked my hips forward and drove inside her. "Fuck." I nearly came as her tight warmth wrapped around me. I stayed still a second, letting the intensity settle. "Baby?" She opened her eyes and what I saw in the depths . . . fuck, it was beautiful. Complete submission.

I grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her as I moved inside her, slow yet hard, until she moaned then cried out my name.

"Legs."

As soon as she locked them around me, I sunk deeper. She put her hand on the bathroom mirror behind her as I pumped into her. I needed more of her. I wanted all of her. To own every piece of this woman.

Her body tensed, and I knew she was close. I moved faster and a cry emerged from her throat, which I quickly silenced with my mouth.

It was all I needed as she quivered around me. I let go, my release driving shivers through my body. Every muscle tightened. Every thought vanished except loving this woman. Fuck yeah, I loved her and no matter what happened, she'd always be mine in my heart.

I kissed her swollen lips then slowly slipped from her. "We'll be okay. Everything will be fine."

Her eyes flew open and she struggled out of my embrace and slid off the counter.

I scowled. "What the fuck?"

I had to step back as she bent over and pulled on her underwear and jeans. When she straightened, I knew whatever was fucking with her head before sex was back. "You can't say shit like that. You think everything is going to be okay? Well, it's not, Balen. They want you dead. And we can't run forever. So, this," she pointed to me and her, "isn't going to happen."

It was as if she'd slapped me. "This is bullshit and you know it." She was running—hard. I pulled off the condom and tossed it in the toilet then did up my jeans.

"We'll deal with this. We'll get through it. I swear—"

She slammed her hands into my chest. " _We?_ No. There is no we, Balen. You know why? Because some scary-ass spirit things want you dead and when they catch you, I'm left here. Without you. Scars and vampires, men with needles . . . God, it's nothing to you, but to me this is terrifying. I don't want this. I don't want your life especially when you won't even be here. So, no, you don't get to say _we_ will get through this, because you'll be dead."

Fuck, she was freakin' out and I didn't know how to make it better because I didn't know what was going to happen. "I'll fight it."

She snorted. "Bonded, I die when they take you. Not Bonded, I live but you . . . you either die or are sentenced to Rest. There's nothing to fight, Balen. Our fight is over." Danni lowered her gaze. "I can't do this. Us."

"Too fuckin' late," I ground out. "You're mine."

I smelled the fear in her pores, and it intensified when I said the words. She was running and no matter what I said right now, nothing would stop her.

But she was right. We were fighting a battle I couldn't win. Her life would be saved if she became a Scar, but I was still leaving whether dead or exiled or in Rest.

We could run. Jasper, the crazy Scar mercenary might be able to hide us for a fee, but could I do that to Danni? Take her away from everything for a life of hiding and running?

She pushed past me, grabbed her shoe from the door wedge and walked away.

I kicked the door. "Fuck!"

Balen remained silent the rest of the flight and I tried to sleep, but couldn't, because he was across from me and I could feel the tension radiating off him. He was pissed and I didn't blame him, it was just that I had reality kick me in the ass.

The plane landed in the middle of the night and a car waited for us on the tarmac. Balen still didn't say anything as he held open the passenger door for me and I got in the car. He slammed it shut. Shit. I deserved that. After an hour of silence, I couldn't take it anymore. "Balen, I know you're pissed but—"

"Pissed? Pissed? I'm more than pissed, Danni. I'm livid."

"Okay, you're livid. But what do you want me to do? Fall head over heels in love with you and then have you die?"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles white. "I want you to fight for us, damn it."

"I have. I did."

"Bullshit. When, Danni? When did you fight? Tell me."

"Balen, it's not that simple." Tears welled up in my eyes. "You're leaving me."

"No, Danni, you already left me back in that fuckin' plane."

"Because you're going to die," I shouted.

"Yeah, well, maybe I will or maybe I'll fight for what I want. That just won't include you now, will it?"

I looked away and closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears back. Damn it, I was trying to save us both from more pain. Death. Rest. It didn't matter. I'd fallen too hard, and now I was drowning in the fear of what happened next.

Fight? What was there left to fight for? How was I supposed to fight Wraiths and Scars?

"What do you want, Danni? Days ago you asked me to never leave you. Why bother coming with me?" He huffed. "Oh, that's right, so you won't fuckin' die. Because of the fuckin' spell." He sped around the corner, the tires squealing. "Don't worry, all this is ending. I'll die and you can go back to your gallery and paint. I'll make sure Waleron knows you want nothing to do with the Scars." His brows raised and he turned to look at me with a cruel sneer. "But babe, don't even think of ever painting me again."

A tear trailed down my cheek and I brushed it away with my arm. "Balen, please."

"I'd fight for you, Danni. Right to the fuckin' end. I'd never stop. No matter what shit was put up against us, I'd keep fighting. You know why? Because that's what you do when you love someone."

I choked on my sob, a waterfall of tears releasing and slipping down my cheeks. I turned my head away and stared out the window. There was nothing I could say. He was so angry with me . . . and hurt. Yes, I'd hurt him. Did I love him? Was that why this hurt so much? Why it made me sick to my stomach to think about him being taken away?

Damn it, how was I supposed to fight for him? I had nothing.

The car careened toward the town of Zugarramurdi. There were no stops and no slowing as he took corners way too fast, and not once did he look over at me.

I leaned my head against the side window and tried to stop the constant threat of tears. The car yanked to the side of the road and Balen slammed it into park. "We walk from here."

I got out and followed him. He kept a quick pace through the brush, not waiting for me as I struggled over the rough terrain. The air was dry and cold, and by the time we reached the stream, I was shivering. We walked alongside it until it disappeared into an ominous stygian cave.

Balen disappeared inside, not once looking behind to see if I followed. I stood at the mouth of the cave, my heart pounding, limbs tingling as panic crept into me like a dark shadow. I stood frozen in place.

I heard his curse echo inside the darkness, and then he emerged again.

He strode up to me, grabbed my hand and pulled me forward.

I could do this. I needed to. For him I had to do this.

I stumbled behind him as he dragged me into the massive rock cavern that housed three caves. If I hadn't felt as though I were being swallowed up, I'd have found this place mystical and beautiful. Natural rock formations rose far above us to open up into a mouth that encased the stream.

The flash of memories hit like a blast of ice pellets. I gasped as panic ate away common sense. All I could think about were the cages, his fangs biting my neck, the never-ending cold. Dampness clung to my skin like leaches sucking every ounce of warmth from my body.

Fight. Fight. Fight.

Balen pulled me back up against his chest and whispered into my ear, "Breathe, Danni. Breathe."

I shook uncontrollably, my stomach churned, and my legs and arms were numb as memories flooded my mind with visions of Ryszard, the cage, Balen and the horror we suffered.

"I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know." His voice was like a calm melody, easing the panic. "I can do this."

A figure emerged out of the darkness and my first thought was Ryszard and I stiffened. But as he drew near, I recognized the snake tattoo on his neck.

The man raised his hand and said something I couldn't make out. Then nothing.

"THIS MUST HAPPEN NOW," Waleron said. He nodded to Danni. "And she must be calm."

"She will be." I held her in my arms as she slept in DS, Deep Sleep. "The Bond? What are the chances this will break it? Is there any other way? She doesn't want to be a Scar."

Waleron stood at the stream's edge, his eyes staring into the blackness. "Genevieve is responsible for the Bond and she refuses to break it."

"Fuck." Stupid Wraith had no idea the shit-storm she'd caused.

"My theory is that it will break once Danni makes the transformation. The spell is with a female human, not a female Scar." Waleron crouched and dragged his fingers through the water and then rose again. "I'll assist on keeping her calm when she wakes from DS. The Wraiths have followed me, unfortunately, and I suspect aren't too far behind."

"And if she doesn't want this?"

"Then she dies. You can't be taken to the realm with the Bond in place," Waleron said matter-of-factly. "There is no option."

This was bullshit. Why the hell would Genevieve screw with us like this? But whether Danni wanted to be a Scar or not, I wouldn't let her die. "Let's do this."

Waleron placed his hand on her forehead and spoke words of waking.

Danni jerked upright and I immediately saw the confusion on her face as she looked around. "What happened?" Danni's heart raced, but she was no longer shaking and she addressed Waleron in a steady voice.

I felt the energy shift as Waleron filled her with calmness before he spoke, but it was to me. "She must drown. You will bring her back with your breath and your blood."

"What?" I shouted. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

Waleron raised his brows. "I don't joke. Ever. It's the only way. Once she dies, you have minutes to bring her back. Give her your breath and your blood."

"Drown?" Danni asked, her hand clutched in mine.

"I'll be as weak as a wilted piece of lettuce if I touch that water. How the hell will I be able to bring her back? What if I can't bring her back?"

Waleron shrugged. "Then she dies."

"No." My hand curled into fist. "I won't take the risk."

"Then she dies anyway." Waleron walked over to a notch in the cavern wall that was about eight by eight and five feet high. "Bring her here."

"Balen?" Her voice quivered and my chest tightened at the sound.

"Fuck." Die. I never expected this, and maybe that was why Waleron never said anything. Maybe this was why I'd never heard of any human changing into a Scar.

Die.

She had to die.

I looked at Danni and saw the alarm in her eyes. She heard what we said, knew what was about to happen, and I could do nothing to ease her fear because I was just as fuckin' terrified.

Waleron had calmed her panic with his mind, but still I sensed her anxiety, the shivers coursing through her body, her heart pumping frantically.

I cupped her head in my hands. "Danni, if there was any other way . . . I promise, I'll bring you back. I swear to you."

"I don't want to drown," she whispered. "I don't want to drown, Balen."

Jesus. I looked to Waleron. "How many others have done this?"

"None."

"Damn it, promise us it will work."

"I don't decide who lives or dies."

"For Christ's sake." Did we have a choice? My tracking ability was already picking up on the Wraiths nearing. Could I force her if she refused in order to save her life? Or was I killing her by doing this?

I pulled her up against my chest. "I can't let you die, little one. I can't." Wasn't that a fucked up statement. Because no matter what happened—she had to die.

I wanted to run for my life. Unfortunately, running would cost me my life. But then again, so would staying.

Drown. Die. Balen had to bring me back. Holy crap, this was not what I had expected. Maybe chanting some spells, a special drink maybe. But dying? And if I didn't . . . I'd die anyway.

I knew the Waleron guy was trying to ease the fear, but he had no idea the magnitude of my terror at having to drown. I'd have to force myself to stay under the water against every survival instinct.

"That is why Balen will help you," Waleron said.

I jerked my gaze to the Taldeburu.

"He'll keep you from surfacing if that instinct arises. Which it will."

When I looked up at Balen; he was deathly pale.

Waleron raised his head and looked to the mouth of the cave. "Do it now."

I wanted to live. I'd survived my mother's slow, agonizing death, my father's suicide, and then Ryszard's torture.

Balen wanted me to fight. His words repeated over and over in my head until I eased out of his embrace and walked to what looked like a stagnant pool of water that sat in the notch of the cave; the blackness ready to suck me under.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Could I willingly climb into that water and force myself to drown? No. That was why Balen would keep my head under.

I put my hand on the rocky surface of the edge and climbed into the water. I glanced over at Balen who was tense, eyes hard and brows drawn together.

"Bring me back." I took a deep breath, maybe my last one and said, "I'm fighting here."

"Jesus, Danni."

Cold rushed over my body as I slipped beneath the surface. I held my breath, unable to end this quick and suck the water into my lungs. No, I'd take the long way and hold my breath until nothing was left.

Bubbles of air slipped from my mouth and rose to the surface. I closed my eyes, willing myself to relax, but my lungs burned as the last bubble escaped. Air. I needed air. I struggled to fight the instinct to rise to the surface, but survival won. I couldn't do this. I didn't want to drown. My eyes flashed open.

Live.

I wasn't ready to die. Oh, God, I wanted Balen's arms around me, to feel his lips, taste him. I wanted to love him with all my heart for as long as we had. I wanted to fight for us.

I kicked wildly for the surface, but suddenly, Balen's arms wrapped around me, holding me tight to his body, and keeping us beneath the water. I looked up at him and saw his tortured green eyes staring at me, his wet hair, that same look I'd captured in all my paintings.

I screamed silently. My lungs screamed. I was afraid. Afraid to suffer. Afraid to die.

He stroked my hair and pushed my face into the crook of his shoulder. I felt his tension, every muscle reacting to the natural urgency to save me.

I couldn't hold my breath any longer. Panic seized every part of my mind and body. His arm tightened around my waist and his hand stilled in my hair. My legs kicked, my body reacting to the urgency, but he wouldn't release me.

Nothing was left. My mouth opened and my eyes bulged as my lungs starved for oxygen. And then . . . I sucked in the water.

My lungs rejected the flooding and there was a crushing pain in my chest.

I jerked and revolted and still Balen held me to him.

Then darkness.

HER PULSE WEAKENED, HER heart slowed and then . . . nothing. I surfaced like a madman, Danni's limp body in my arms. I was so weak from the effect the water had on Scars, even carrying Danni in my arms was debilitating.

She was dead.

Fuck.

No.

The pain crawling under my skin was like grappling hooks stabbing me and then ripping me apart. "Danni. Please."

I climbed out of the pool, my eyes never leaving her face.

Oh, God, she was pale. Her lips were blue and slightly parted. Her eyes, lifeless. Fuck. Fuck. What if this didn't work? What if I'd killed her? I'd held her under the water. She'd wanted to live; I'd seen the desperation in her eyes, begging me to let her go.

My stomach lurched and I swallowed several times to try and stop from vomiting. Jesus, what had I done?

A hand came down on my shoulder and I looked up at Waleron.

"Save her," he said.

I lay her down on the rough, cold ground, swept wet strands of hair away from her face, and tilted her head back. I took a deep breath then lowered my lips to her mouth and released a rush of air into Danni. Her chest rose and fell.

I did it again.

And again. And again.

Nothing.

"Fuck. Jesus, what have I done?"

"Blood," Waleron said.

Danni was lifeless, cold, and pale. Her eyes stared at nothing. Her chest was still. Oh, God, I'd killed her. No. No.

A sharp pain sliced across my wrist. "Feed her. Now," Waleron ordered.

I stared at the blood dripping from my wrist, and then held it to Danni's mouth. The red liquid slid down her throat, but she wasn't swallowing.

Ironic I had to force her to take my blood to save her life when I'd taken her blood to save hers. Fuckin' fate, spirits, whoever the fuck, were laughing their asses off right now.

Danni was dead. She had no way to take in my blood. This was wrong. What if we were doing this all wrong? What if changing a human to a Scar was impossible?

Nothing.

Nothing was happening.

"Noooo," I roared as I picked her up in my arms and held her to my chest. Her head lolled back, and her mouth sagged open. I'd failed.

No. No.

I put my lips on hers and kissed her, my hand wrapping in her hair. She didn't know it, but she'd saved me. She'd stopped me from running, brought me back to fight. She was the reason I wanted to prove to my kind that drinking vampire blood wasn't a death sentence for other Scars.

"Don't you fuckin' leave me." But I'd be leaving her for death or Rest. I had no right to beg for anything.

I rocked her limp body, placing kisses along her face, her neck, her hair.

She lay lifeless.

Cold.

I glared at Waleron. "Save her, damn it. Bring her back."

Waleron met my eyes, unyielding and steady. "She was yours to save, not mine."

_Was._ He said _was._ No, it wasn't too late. She wanted to fight.

I'd never give up on her. Never. I'd sworn never to give up. I'd fight until my last breath. I lay her back down then slammed my fist down on her chest. Once. Twice. Then I breathed into her lungs again. Over and over again.

I put my wrist over her mouth and blood dripped into her mouth. "Damn it. Live. You want to live. Fight, damn it."

I needed to see her smile again. Hear her laugh. Watch her walk across a room. I needed her spunk, her honesty. I needed it all.

I placed my lips over hers again, breathing my air into her lungs. Repeating it over and over. I'd never give up. Never.

She coughed.

Blood spurted from her mouth and sprayed my wet shirt. I quickly rolled her on her side as she coughed up a mixture of water and my blood.

I choked on the sob that emerged from my throat then pulled her tight into my arms. "Fuck, baby."

Her body trembled and she coughed several more times before laying still, her cheek pressed to my chest. I kissed the top of her head over and over again while cradling her in my embrace. I ignored the shuffling of feet behind me and Waleron speaking in low tones. All I heard was Danni's breath and heartbeat.

"Let her go."

I stiffened at the unfamiliar voice. But I knew who it was—a Wraith.

They were here.

I had to leave.

I'd prepared for this.

I knew running was not in the cards. I kissed her temple and smoothed her wet hair away from her face.

"The Bond?" I asked Waleron without looking at him.

"I do not feel anything. It's broken," he replied.

"Balen?" Danni reached up, palm resting on my cheek.

"Little one." I took her hand in mine then kissed each finger.

Despite every instinct telling me to never let go, I came to my unsteady feet, Danni still in my arms.

She'd be safe now. She was one of them and the Scars would protect her. I looked at Waleron. _"Keep her safe."_

" _My word."_ Waleron nodded.

I set Danni on her feet, keeping my hand on the small of her back until I was sure she was steady. "You good?"

She nodded.

I stepped away, and that's when she turned and she saw them.

"No. Balen." She grabbed my hand, but I unlinked our fingers and stepped away. "No. He saved my life, damn it. He broke your stupid law to save my life."

There were two Wraiths; one looked the elder—dignified and patient—and the other looked the complete opposite. The older one stepped forward, grabbed my wrists, and locked the gold bands on them. "I'm Tor, the Wraith of Earth and with me is Edan, Wraith of Fire." The sound of the metal bands clicking closed echoed in the cave. I heard Danni's sharp inhale and fought every instinct to not fight.

"You'll be taken to the realm until the Deaconry decides what will become of you. We, the Wraiths of—" Danni's scream belted into the air. I whirled around just as she fell to her knees, her hands held over her ears.

"No. No. Stop it." She shook her head back and forth. "Kilter," she moaned. "I . . . hear him. He is . . ."

I looked at Waleron then ran and kneeled in front of her, my hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

" _Her telepathy is strong. More so than an ancient's,"_ Waleron said. _"The Stream of Hell has given her this power. She is a Scar Reflector now."_

" _Kilter is thousands of miles away. It's impossible."_

Waleron raised his brows. _"Never impossible."_

"Danni. Look at me." I waited until her eyes rose to mine. "It's your ability. You're not used to it yet. Close your mind to everything except what Kilter is saying. He's a strong telepath like you. What's he saying?" Why the hell was Kilter reaching out to all Scars?

Danni raised her head, her eyes wide with horror. "They're dead. Oh, God. Hannah . . . Hannah and the others are dead."

"RYKER?"

I looked up at Waleron and shook my head. "They . . . they took him. But the others . . . Sandor, Derek, and . . . Hannah. They . . . they killed them."

Kilter's voice drove into my head. _"For fuck's sake, woman, keep it together. I'm going after Ryker. They took him alive. You're the only one left living who knows where the hideout is—the cave. Go there. In the clearing is a . . ."_

"Why—"

" _Shut up and fuckin' listen. I'm tracking them. There's no time. In the back of the cave, on the floor, there's a hidden door. Crawl down the ladder and follow the tunnel to the end. The bracelet that Hannah gave you, undo it and the latch is the key for the box at the end of the tunnel."_

Balen stroked my hair. "Kilter, I'm not trained to—"

" _I saved your fuckin' life, woman. You'll do this trained or not. And if you don't, once I finish with these bastards I'm coming for you. Open the box, remove the amulet and bring it to me. And get your head on straight because if you screw this up, it will seriously piss me off. Don't fuckin' wear it, wrap it in something and get it to me."_

"Why? I don't understand, why me?"

Kilter remained silent.

"Kilter?"

" _Unfortunately for me, you've just become the strongest telepath among us. So, I'll use you in order to contact Ryker."_

"I want to help but—"

" _Shut your mouth and speak to me using your mind. It echoes like a bloody cistern when you speak out loud. Now, can you listen to instructions or not?"_

"Yeah, but—"

" _You're still talking out loud, so you obviously can't. Great. Just fuckin' great. Okay, I'll make this simple. Do what I tell you, or I'll kill you. Is that clear enough for you? I've called Keir. He'll meet you at my place."_

" _God, you're an asshole. I'm trying here. It's not like I've grown up speaking telepathy. Balen is being—"_

" _I don't give a flying fuck what they're doing to Balen. Get the fuckin' amulet."_

It was as if a pillow smothered my head and as soon as Kilter left, the sensation was gone. Hannah was dead. Hannah and Ryker . . . oh, God, Ryker.

I looked at Balen. "They killed her and . . . they killed them, Balen. Kilter has gone to find Ryker and he needs my help."

"Release him," Waleron said.

The ground trembled and I grabbed for Balen, my fingers clutching his wet shirt.

Tor said, "Waleron, I warn you, this is past your ability to stop—"

"I'll go in his place," Waleron stated.

"No!" Balen and Edan said in unison.

Waleron continued, "Our law is to preserve our kind. If any are in need, we assist one another. Kilter needs Danni. She knows nothing of the Scars or our abilities. Balen can assist her."

"He betrayed his warriors the last time. What makes you think he won't do it again?" Edan asked.

Balen flinched.

"Because I say he won't," Waleron answered.

Edan glared at the three of us. "This is ludicrous." He curled his hands into fists. "When does it end? He's escaped his punishment too many times. We must put an end to this."

Tor stood stiff, unblinking as he stared at Waleron. I wondered if they were communicating by mind, but both men revealed nothing with their expressions.

Tor gave one nod. "I will consent to this. But the gold bands remain." He paused. "And you will go in his place." The Wraith looked at Balen. "If you run, if you betray us, know that Waleron will no longer walk this Earth."

Waleron gave an abrupt nod to Balen, and then, without another word, he disappeared into a cloud of mist.

"This is bullshit!" Edan said. "Waleron cannot remain in the realm."

Tor half-smiled. "And why would you object, Edan?"

Edan sputtered for a moment and then vanished in a blinding fireball.

Tor looked at me. "Continue as you do and salvation will pass you by." He looked at Balen. "Let nature guide you." The ground shifted, and then he vanished.

I didn't have time to think about the Wraith's words as Balen grabbed my hand and we ran. He had his phone out of his pocket and was dialing before we reached the car.

Little was said on the flight back to Newfoundland; Balen spent most of his time on the phone with both Keir and Jedrik while I tried to sleep to ease my spiraling emotions. I'd heard nothing further from Kilter, and Balen couldn't reach him on his cell. He was MIA and, according to Balen, that was what Kilter did best.

Once we landed, Balen stopped at a drugstore for ibuprofen. Since I'd died and come back to life, I kept hearing mumbled words tap dancing across my mind, undecipherable and growing worse whenever I was around people.

I swallowed two pills and chugged back my bottled water.

"Thoughts," Balen said. "Those around you. You can hear what they're thinking. You have to learn to block them out or it will eventually drive you crazy."

"How come I can't hear your thoughts?" I'd like to know what he was thinking right now. He looked tense, had barely said two words to me the entire flight.

"I can block you. Like telepathy. It's like a live wire, disconnect it."

"How?"

His gaze turned to me for a split second then went back to the road; instead of a frown, I got a scowl. Pleasant.

"Focus. Concentration. Meditation. Whatever works," Balen answered.

It was my fault he was acting cold and distant. He didn't deserve that, but the truth was we didn't win this fight. "Balen. I said those things because . . ." I glanced at the gold bands around his wrists. They were a reminder of what awaited us. "I'm fighting, damn it. But us . . . we don't win this." I put my hand on top of the band and he stiffened. "It hurts. Seeing these. Knowing what will happen. It hurts so fucking much and I can't stop it. I have to let go. I need to." A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek then dripped onto my shirt. "And so do you."

He swerved the car over to the shoulder and before I had the chance to do anything, he grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to face him. I winced as his fingers dug into my flesh.

His green eyes penetrated, and I shifted uncomfortably. "Balen, what—" Suddenly, his thoughts hit me and my breath hitched.

He was terrified. The drowning incident played over and over in his head. I heard his thoughts and fears of losing me, the one anchor in his life, the woman who made him laugh after years of having no one. How I made him feel whole. How I made him want to fight for me. For him. For us.

But what hurt him the most was that I'd given up on us, on him. I didn't trust in what we shared.

And then . . . then I was encompassed by the love he felt for me. It was a powerful warmth surrounding me, a protective shield that refused to bend.

Just as suddenly as his thoughts flooded my mind, they were gone. He released my shoulders, put the car in drive, and skidded forward, all without saying a single word.

I was too stunned to speak. What could I say to a man's inner most thoughts? He loved me and it was destroying him that I'd given up.

Could I let my heart be broken? Wasn't it already breaking? What if we only had weeks, days, maybe hours left together? Would I regret spending our last days together loving or trying to protect my heart?

I closed my eyes. Balen would be taken from me. I was going to lose him.

My father never fought. Maybe it was time I did. For the both of us.

"Pull over," I ordered. He ignored me and I put my hand on the gearshift. "Pull over or I'll jam this BMW into park and let the transmission dump out onto the highway."

Balen took his time bringing the car to a stop. He let it idle while his hands gripped the steering wheel.

"I love you." There was no reaction from him as he stared out the windshield. "I'm not good at it. Shit, I suck at it." I sighed then tucked my hair behind my ear. "My dad . . . he and my mom loved one another so much. They were inseparable, and then when my mom died, it destroyed him. He was never the same, lost in his own world until finally he couldn't take it anymore and put a gun to his head.

"I found him in his office." I rubbed my arms as a cold shiver crawled over my body. "I never wanted that kind of love." I reached over and put my hand on his arm. I guessed it was a good sign when he didn't move away. "I don't ever want that to happen to me. To love so much that I can't go on without that person. I'm terrified that when they finally take you away, I won't be able to go on. I'll fall so hard that I won't be able to get back up again."

"You're not your father, Danni," Balen said then looked at me, his face hard and unyielding. "You'll go on because that's in your soul. You're a fighter, a survivor. I saw it. I lived it. You just need to find it again." He reached over and cupped my chin. "You'll never lose me. No matter what happens, I'll always be here, whether as I am now or as a breeze in the fuckin' wind. I won't ever leave you."

Balen leaned toward me and his lips met mine. It was everything in that kiss, warmth, a promise, and even a goodbye. I sagged into him, his mouth bruising as if it was imprinting this kiss into me forever.

I watched Balen pace the length of Ryker's destroyed living room. Keir, Jedrik, Hack, and Delara had arrived hours earlier and were waiting when we arrived.

He stepped over torn cushions, glass shards, and destroyed antiques. "She's not a warrior," he shouted. "Her training is fuck all. She's been a Scar for hours. Hours, damn it. She gets the amulet, gives it to us, and takes a flight back to Toronto."

"Balen?" He ignored me, all of them did, except Delara, who winked then mouthed _men._

Jedrik rolled his eyes. "You're being overprotective. We're here to keep her safe. Frig, man, her telepathy far surpasses—" He shut his mouth abruptly, and when I looked at Balen, I knew why. His scowl was fierce, and goose bumps rose on my arms.

I slipped my hand in Balen's as he stepped toward Jedrik. "Baby, no. Please. I can help." I wanted to help Ryker.

He grunted then peered down at me, his expression softening. "You've never called me baby before."

I shrugged and squeezed his hand.

"Love that."

"Jedrik is right. Her telepathy is strong," Keir said then addressed me directly. "We all feel it. For Kilter to reach you from that far away was, well, I'm not aware of any that have that capability."

"Ulrich did," Jedrik said.

I noticed the sudden tension in the room. "Who's Ulrich?"

Jedrik answered, "Kilter's brother. He killed him."

Kilter killed his own brother and I was the one who had to communicate with this guy.

Keir turned to Balen. "Kilter is right. We need her to speak to Ryker on the inside."

"I said no. We find another way." Balen glared at Keir.

"Do I get a say in this?" I asked.

"Her telepathy is too strong not to utilize, Balen. Ryker's life is at stake," Keir argued.

"I'll do it," I said.

Keir nodded. "Good. Kilter is complicated, but he can be trusted. I spoke with him an hour ago and, whoever these guys are, they have Ryker contained in a room made of steel. They must know about our telepathy limits and have taken precautions."

"Can you really do that? Speak to us through steel?" Jedrik asked.

I shrugged. "I've no idea."

Delara went and sat beside Jedrik on the couch. He ruffled her hair and she punched him in the shoulder. "If Kilter reached you in Zugarramurdi in a cave, then you can reach anyone," Delara said.

Jedrik rubbed his hands together. "So what's the plan? Because I've been itching for some action for weeks."

"If you cut your girlie hair, maybe you'd get some action," Hack said.

Jedrik shook his loose, blond curls and they danced over his ears. "Yeah, well, at least I have plenty of it. It looks like you need a few seedlings planted."

Hack charged. He was close to landing on top of Jedrik when Keir raised his hands and the coffee table stood on its edge, hovering. Hack crashed into it.

"Hack, grow up," Keir said. He glared at Jedrik when he chuckled and held up his hand when Jedrik went to speak. "Not a word."

Delara whispered something to Jedrik, and he cursed under his breath.

"According to the last communication with Kilter, he's a couple hours north of here. His text message said they took Ryker into some sort of compound." Keir looked to each one of them. "Jedrik and Delara, you'll travel to Kilter's location with me. Danni and Balen, retrieve the amulet, then meet us there. No one goes after Ryker until I give the okay."

Hack cleared his throat. "And me?"

Jedrik laughed. "This job is for the big boys, numbskull."

"Eat—"

Keir interrupted, "You'll stay here." He held up his hand again. "Your skill is with computers. Find out everything you can on this facility. I want the building plans, who owns it, what goes on there, how long it's been there. I want to know how many toilets this goddamn place has."

Hack nodded.

"What's with the amulet thing?" Jedrik asked.

"Whatever it is, it'd better be damn worth it," Balen said.

"Kilter said to keep it covered," I offered.

"Holy crap, a witch thingamajig." Jedrik raised his brows and grinned. "Kilter, that son of a bitch, he's—"

"Dangerous. Lethal. Calculating. And prefers to work alone," Keir said.

"Yeah, I'm peeing in my pants to meet him," Jedrik mumbled.

"Don't be rude." Delara smacked his leg.

He shrugged. "Can't be charming all the time."

"Try," she said.

"Love you, too," Jedrik said.

Keir turned to Balen and nodded.

Balen continued with the plan. "Jedrik, we need explosives. After Ryker's out, we destroy the place. Assume the worst-case scenario."

Balen talked about who should bring what and talked about what-to-expect scenarios. I noticed they all listened and held a high regard for him, asking questions and respecting his answers. It was obvious that despite the past, they still trusted him and were willing to follow his lead.

Delara and Jedrik were like brother and sister, playful, teasing, and argumentative all at the same time. It was obvious they shared a deep love for one another.

There was something odd about Delara, like she was putting up a front. She was casual and straightforward and likable, yet every muscle was tense. Her eyes were . . . I couldn't put my finger on it. Haunted or something.

Everyone got up and began leaving the room.

"What's her story?" I whispered to Balen.

"Delara?" Balen frowned. "The girl has had a pretty screwed up life."

"Does she live at Keir's?" I'd never seen her there, but that didn't mean anything.

"She did. After that shit went down with Ryszard, she took off. She only showed up when I did, but she no longer lives with the Talde."

"She looks . . . I don't know, like she's hiding something?"

Balen shrugged. "Probably is. Centuries ago, she and Waleron were in love. But that ended pretty damn tragically." He leaned down and nipped my ear and my belly flip-flopped. "I'll never get over how delicious you smell."

"Like cinnamon?" I asked.

He threw back his head and laughed. "Fuck, yeah."

" _You have the amulet yet?"_

Kilter's voice plowed into my head and I winced. His voice was deeper with a slight rasp and he sounded tired and more pissed off. I focused my mind on the words I wanted to communicate. _"No, we're just—"_

" _Useless. Do you understand that every second it takes you, Ryker is being tested on like some goddamn lab rat? I want it here yesterday. Got me?"_

Kilter was as offensive and vulgar as ever. If I were shy and timid, he'd have me crying every time he opened his vile mouth.

" _We're close. Keep your pants on. I'll contact you when I have it."_

" _Fuck."_

"Why does he have to speak to me? You're an ancient. Can't he talk to you instead?" I asked.

Balen chuckled. "Kilter being his usual charming self?" He rubbed his hand up and down my back. "Your telepathy is strongest, making it easier for him. With the distance between us, it would be like a bad connection if he tried to speak with any of us. It also builds strength between the two of you. Even though I can't say I'm pleased about it, the connection will help when you begin to communicate with Ryker. Kilter and him have been together for a hundred years and are close. Well, as close as Kilter will get to anyone. He knows Ryker better than any of us."

"I'd like it known—I don't like Kilter."

Balen leaned over and kissed me. "Probably the only one left alive who does is Ryker."

I found that easy to believe.

Hack had already gone into Ryker's study and was on the computer. Jedrik and Delara were packed and ready to go.

Keir grabbed a satchel from the lounge chair in the corner of the room and slung it over his shoulder. "I'll contact you once we meet up with Kilter," he said to Balen.

"Ready?" Balen asked me.

Fuck yeah. Besides, if I didn't do this, I'd have to deal with Kilter.

"WHY DO YOU GUYS always pick caves?"

"I'd do it for you if I could."

"No, I need to." But he couldn't anyway. Kilter had told me that only I, or a slender type woman, would be able to fit into the tunnel where the amulet was hidden, plus Hannah had given me the bracelet. So, it was meant for me to go.

Balen held out his hand and I took it, instantly feeling the warmth blanketing my body. Ryker's life was at stake. _Keep it together._

I entered the cave and the dampness clung to my skin. Cold air sank into my bones, smothering my breath. My hands started with the pins and needles at the tips and working their way up. I inhaled slow and easy. Balen's hand squeezed mine and I felt his strength and steadiness shift into my body.

_Go to my happy place._ I always thought my therapist was shittin' me with that stuff, but I had to admit, it helped. Blue sky, soft breeze, grass beneath my feet. Trees swaying.

Balen's voice drifted into my mind. _"And fucking in the grass."_

I felt a bubble of laughter at Balen reading my silly thoughts of my happy place.

" _Not silly, little one."_

"I'm changing my happy place when we get out of here."

"To include me?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, it's supposed to be a place where no one can find you. Where you're safe from everything."

"You're safe from everything in my arms. And I want your happy place to include me."

Yeah, I could do that. He was my safe place. He'd always be my safe place. I leaned closer to him and kissed his shoulder. "Okay."

We made it to the clearing at the end of the tunnel where Kilter had taken me before. My heart raced, but my panic was much less.

Balen knelt and cleared away the dirt from around the square door in the ground. He yanked on an old rusted handle and it creaked open.

I peered into the hole and saw a wooden ladder. Even with my eyesight—that had heightened since the change—I was still unable to see the bottom. It was a hole, just big enough for a woman. That was why Kilter insisted I be the one to go, neither he nor Balen were capable of fitting into that deathtrap. The amulet must have belonged to Hannah. I wondered if somehow Hannah had known the attack was going to happen. Was that why she gave me the key to the box?

"I can do this."

Balen cupped my chin and turned me to face him. "Yeah, you can. I won't let anything happen. Okay?"

I took several deep breaths and nodded.

Balen passed me a flashlight and then helped me into the opening. His calm, patient words sifted through my mind as I climbed down the ladder. I kept my eyes closed and moved methodically, one step after the other. My shoulders grazed the earth on both sides, and dirt crumbled. I swallowed as a sudden panic clutched at my chest. I fought to control my thoughts of getting buried alive—trapped.

" _Breathe, baby."_

The sound of Balen's calm voice in my mind made me feel as if he was holding my hand. I took three deep breaths then continued downward.

This damn amulet better be worth it and not some keepsake Kilter wanted to put on his mantel. I'd kill the selfish bastard if it was.

My feet touched the ground and I saw the crawlspace to the right of the ladder. Holy crap, no. No way. I couldn't do it. My heart pumped wildly and my stomach cramped. I grabbed for the ladder. _Escape. Get out._ It was like the water, except now I was drowning in earth.

" _Listen to my heartbeat. Hear my breath. Concentrate. Match it to your own. Feel your hands, your legs, they're free. I am here. You're not alone."_

" _Balen, I can't . . . I . . . I'm scared."_

" _I know, baby."_

I gripped the wooden ladder, one foot on the last rung, ready to dart up as fast as I could. Warmth shot from my wrist up my arm and then through my chest and into my stomach. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw the pearl bracelet glow a soft baby blue light. I stared at the bracelet as its warmth soared through my limbs, lending its strength.

Oh, God, Hannah. You knew. You knew.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could do this. Hannah knew the amulet would be needed. The pearl bracelet grew brighter and the tingling in my limbs disappeared. _Don't give up. Don't fail._

I let go of the ladder and dropped to my knees. _Crawl._ _One step at a time._

" _Danni?"_

" _I'm okay."_

I made my way through the narrow tunnel. Dirt crumbled around me as my body brushed up against the walls. I guessed Hannah had chosen this place so only a few would be able to retrieve the amulet. There was no chance a male could fit into this hole, and by the indents and crumbling walls, I guessed Kilter had tried.

I sighed when my flashlight lit up on the steel box. I scrambled toward it, and then quickly undid the bracelet and put the latch into the keyhole on the box. I heard a click and lifted the lid. I felt inside until I found the medallion that was hanging on some kind of rope. It fit in my palm, had edges with eight points and some kind of engraving on the surface. I slipped the medallion into my back jean pocket, put the bracelet back on my wrist, picked up the flashlight, and then started crawling backward.

It was a slow process, and now that I had the amulet, I just wanted out as fast as I could. My mind screamed as earth continued to fall around me, and each inch backward became more frantic. My legs hit something and I screamed, afraid the tunnel had collapsed. My heart slammed into my chest and I began hyperventilating. It had caved in. The hole had collapsed behind me and I was trapped. Buried alive.

The bracelet glowed bright blue and jolts of heat shot through my body, but it wasn't enough.

" _Danni. Fuck. Stop. Don't move. Concentrate. Think about where you have to go. Feel with your hands around you. Slowly. Nice and fuckin' slow."_

" _Damn it, this sucks._ " I tried to stand, but my head hit earth and granules fell into my hair.

" _Danni!"_ His voice was so forceful it was as if he'd slapped me _. "Do as I say."_

Tears streamed down my face, and my body trembled, but I felt around me until they hit something. Wood. It was the ladder. My feet had bumped into the ladder. I shifted to the side and backed up enough to stand. I latched onto the ladder and raced up the rungs as fast as my trembling legs could take me.

Balen grabbed my arm and pulled me the rest of the way out, and I collapsed into his embrace.

"Okay, I'm officially a wuss."

Balen smiled at me and kissed each tear away. "I'm proud of you, baby."

We drove to the location Keir had given us. It took us an hour and forty-five minutes along winding roads with large snowbanks. We arrived at the hotel just after three in the morning.

Jedrik opened the door with a broad grin and his mouth full. "Hey, Delar," he shouted over his shoulder, "more to join the slumber party. Hope you're wearing lots of layers because strip poker is on the list of things to do."

"Oh, that's disgusting, Arrow. You're like my brother," Delara said from the other side of the room.

Jedrik winked at Danni then a few crumbles of what looked like chips fell from his mouth.

She smiled. "Does that mean junk food is present? Because I'm starved."

Jedrik held up a bag of non-rippled potato chips. "Done."

She pointed at the bag of chips then playfully smacked my chest. "See, I told you."

"Mmm," I mumbled while taking in the room, three bottles of Coke, three bags of chips, and an empty pizza box. No Kilter or Keir.

"Kilter?" I asked.

"Next door," Jedrik said. "We couldn't take his bitching anymore, so we got him the extra room. Friggin' guy refuses to sleep. All he does is pace back and forth, swearing and cursing." Jedrik's eyes glowed bright gold as he directed his gaze at the wall. "Yep, still pacing back and forth. Guaranteed that guy hasn't slept since all this went down."

"Is he manageable?"

Jedrik shrugged as he dug his hand into the chip bag then shoved a bunch in his mouth. "Guess so. Had a little altercation when he collapsed a couple hours ago. I laughed my ass off. Kilter doesn't like to be laughed at."

Delara snorted.

Danni slipped away from me and went into the washroom. I heard the shower turn on and the image of her naked body under the heated spray had me shifting uneasily. All the way here, I'd wanted to pull over and fuck her after what she'd done in that cave. "Where's Keir?"

"Oh, this part is so good." Jedrik sat on the edge of the bed and faced the TV. "Frig, he can shoot an arrow." I glanced at the screen and saw _Lord of the Rings: Return of the King_ playing. Without turning his gaze from the TV, Jedrik continued, "Yeah, grabbing something to eat. He wasn't into pizza or chips. Something about health, Anstice, and making babies."

I walked over and sat in the wooden chair at the small table. Delara sat beside me and pushed her iPad closer to me. On the screen were the plans of the compound.

"Hack sent me this. Twelve-foot brick wall all the way around the place," she said. "One entrance with twenty-four seven security. Walls are not a problem for us, except for motion sensors. We have no chance getting through without setting off all kinds of warning bells." She pointed to three buildings. "He could be in any one of these. All five stories high and most likely underground lower levels. We'll need Danni to try to contact Ryker and see if he can give us his location."

We continued discussing the layout and the rest of the information Hack had discovered, which was minimal. It was a large facility, but very secretive. We had learned a scientist owned it and it was supposedly some laboratory for gene research. A cover story, no doubt.

"We'll go in tomorrow night," I said.

"Fuck that." Kilter stood in the doorway. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes. "I'll get him out."

Delara snorted. "You can barely stand up."

"You haven't watched the place for the last two days have you?" Kilter retorted. "The motion sensors are off during the day. Most likely because it's daylight and the place is as open as a golf course. Guards walk the perimeter instead. I can get around the guards."

"Not in your state," Jedrik mumbled, his eyes still fixated on the television.

"Where's the amulet?" Kilter's eyes narrowed on the bathroom door. "She in there?"

I tensed as Kilter walked toward the bathroom, but I got there before he did, blocking his path.

"Get out of my way, asshole," Kilter said. "I want the amulet."

"She'll be out in a sec." I lowered my voice. "But you want to fuck with me, go right ahead."

The bathroom door opened and Danni stood there, hair soaking wet, cheeks flushed from the hot water. She looked at us and it was obvious she figured out what the standoff was about. She reached in her back pocket and pulled out the amulet, then shoved it into Kilter's chest. "You're an asshole."

"I never claimed otherwise." His fingers curled around the clothed amulet. "Try to reach him."

Danni ignored him and walked over to sit on the bed beside Jedrik and towel-dried her hair. "You haven't slept in what?" She cocked her head to the side and I smirked. She was reading Kilter's thoughts. "Days. Well then, I'm certain I could land you on your ass in about five seconds flat despite my lack of training."

Kilter's body stiffened. His lips pursed together as he glared at her. He hesitated a few seconds before he turned on his heel and walked from the room.

Jedrik whistled. "See his face? Right pissed."

I sighed. "Kilter's dangerous. He's on the brink of breaking and I don't trust him."

"So in other words—not a team player," Jedrik said.

Delara threw her empty pop can at Jedrik's head. He ducked, but not in time. "Cool it, Arrow. Balen's right. Kilter is lethal. And even though you're a pain in my ass, I want you to live."

Jedrik put his hands to his heart. "Love you too, Sass."

By the time I had showered, Keir was back and discussing something with Delara and Jedrik. Kilter had returned, leaning up against the dresser with his arms crossed, and Danni was sitting on the bed looking just as pissed off as Kilter. I guessed the two had had words again.

I walked over to the bed and sat beside her. "Ready?" She crossed her legs and nodded. "It helps to picture the person in your mind. His voice, what he looks like, his attitude." I put my hand on her thigh. "Focus on Ryker alone."

I CLOSED MY EYES, thinking of Ryker, his laughter when Hannah teased him, the sound of his voice, what it felt like when he shook my hand.

Relax.

Keir was thinking about Anstice.

Focus.

Jedrik's mind was contemplating what movie he wanted to watch next. It was between _Underworld_ and _Hook._

Ryker. I have to focus on him.

Kilter's thoughts overwhelmed all the others— _she's useless. I should've known. Fuck, she can't do it._

My eyes flew open and I stared directly at Kilter. "I can't do it when you're in my bloody head."

Kilter came at me with a ferocious growl.

Balen leapt from the bed and pushed him in the chest. "Back off."

I raised my voice. "You're the reason," I said to Kilter, "I can't concentrate when all I hear is your negativity."

"Out. Everyone out," Balen said.

"But I didn't do—" Jedrik began to say.

"In the other room," Keir said. "She is a Reflector and has yet to learn how to harness thoughts. If she's focusing, she could be getting through some of the blocks in our minds."

Kilter crossed his arms and stood hovering at the foot of the bed. Balen glared. Kilter glared back, refusing to budge.

"Leave or I don't do this." This was the biggest dickhead I'd ever met. And I'd at one time thought Keir was controlling. This guy's name was controlling.

"I want to know everything he says. Word for word." Kilter was furious, but he knew when to back down. He was dangerous and intelligent, a deadly combination.

I waited until the connecting door shut before closing my eyes again. I felt Balen on the other side of the room, lending me his strength with his steady rhythm of his heartbeat, but he kept his thoughts blocked.

" _Ryker?"_

_Relax. Breathe. Feel him._ I repeated over and over. I pictured him with Hannah in his arms, a grin on his face. Relaxed, comfortable, and totally in love.

" _Ryker?"_

I remembered his dark brown eyes, sharp and inquisitive. I recalled his voice, how deep and soothing it was when he spoke to Hannah.

" _Ryker?"_

His voice was different as it reached me with a sharp agonizing pain. _"Who the hell are you? No Scars can reach me in this place."_

" _It's Danni. And yes, I can. We need to know—"_

" _Leave me the fuck alone,"_ Ryker said. _"Blow this place sky high."_

I gasped as a sharp pain shot through my body. His pain. His loss. Hannah was dead and he wanted to die. _"She'd want you to live."_

" _You know shit about her or me."_

I ignored him. He was hurting; the guy had just lost the woman he clearly loved more than anything. _"We have Hannah's amulet,"_ I said, wondering if he knew about it.

" _Fuckin' Kilter. He owes me nothing. Tell him to take the amulet and leave."_

" _I think you know already he won't do that,"_ I said.

I heard him groan and then a fierce growl of pain.

" _Ryker? Ryker what's happening?"_

" _Do . . . not . . . come . . . for . . ."_

" _Ryker? Ryker?"_

"Damn it." My eyes flew open.

Balen sat on the bed beside me, holding my hand. I hadn't felt him. It was as though I was away from my body when the telepathy was so intense.

"He wants us to leave him," I said. "He's so hurt with loss that I don't think he really cares about much at the moment. But—" I hesitated and sighed, "—they were doing something to him. I don't know what. He had trouble speaking, and then he was gone. I don't know whether he passed out or what."

"Which building is he in?" Kilter demanded from the doorway.

Asshole had been listening—figures. "He didn't say. He wants you to take the amulet and leave. He said you owe him nothing." I watched Kilter's expression and it pissed me off that he could remain so impassive. I tried my newfound ability, but right now Kilter's mind was a blank slate.

"He would say that," Kilter said. "Tomorrow, we get him the fuck out. I expect you to have a location by then." He turned and walked out.

I felt like sticking my tongue out at him. I wouldn't put it past him to cut it off if I did.

Balen pulled me up next to him, smoothing my hair back from my face. I closed my eyes, shivers coursing over my skin at his gentle caress. He kissed my temple and his hand pushed my head onto his shoulder.

"We'll sleep for a few hours, and then try to reach him again," Balen said.

I curled up next to him, my head resting on his chest, my hand over his heart.

I woke with Balen's arms around my waist; his head nestled in the crook of my neck. Kilter's annoying, raspy voice came blaring into my mind like a car horn.

" _Get hold of him now. I'm in."_

I bolted upright. _"What?"_

" _Which building?"_ Kilter demanded.

"Ah, crap," I said. Balen woke beside me and was instantly on alert. "Kilter went in. He wasn't supposed to go yet, right?"

Balen ran his hand through his hair. "Fuck." He yelled to the next room, "Keir, get your ass in here, we have a problem."

" _Ryker? Ryker, please. Kilter is in the compound."_

Nothing.

" _Ryker! Wake the hell up!"_

His voice was weak and ragged. I hoped it was because he was sleeping, not from anything they might be doing to him. _"I told you—"_

" _Yeah, well, Kilter doesn't listen very well. Which building?"_

" _I was drugged. I don't know where the hell I am,"_ Ryker said.

" _When they took you out of the vehicle, which way did you go?"_

I waited. Silence. Was he thinking? Had he fallen back asleep? Passed out?

" _Right,"_ Ryker replied and I breathed a sigh of relief. _"Then straight, then we stopped. A six-digit code was punched in, and then we entered a building. Then . . . I fought them and they injected me with more drugs."_

I relayed the information to Kilter.

" _The amulet. It's in the other room behind the nightstand in the wall. Get it,_ " Kilter demanded.

" _Kilter, sundown is in two hours. There's not enough time for you to get out before the sensors are put on again."_

" _I don't intend to get out today. Get the amulet. I need you close. I'm not sure how far away the amulet will work. Go to the cliff on the east side of the compound. Keir knows where it is."_

" _But what am I supposed to do with the amulet?"_

" _When I tell you, uncover it, put it around your neck, and hold it between your palms. Think of Ryker and Hannah."_

" _But what does it—"_

Kilter's voice was harsh. _"Don't question. Just do it."_

Fine. Did I have a choice? _"Kilter . . . be careful._ " No clue why I said that. I hated the overbearing control freak.

"What the hell does he think he's doing?" Balen said. I had no answer and Balen didn't appear as if he wanted one. "How on Earth does he expect to get him out on his own?"

"The amulet," I said. "He says it will protect Ryker somehow." I told him what Kilter said and, by the end, Balen was fuming.

"I don't want you anywhere near that fuckin' place." His voice rose just as Delara, Jedrik, and Keir came through the adjoining door.

Jedrik's blond curls were in complete disarray and he was rubbing his crotch. "What's all the racket about?"

"Kilter's in the compound. He plans on getting Ryker out himself," Balen said.

Jedrik shrugged. "Could've guessed he'd do something stupid like that. He works alone."

"He's an idiot," Keir said. "And he may have just screwed it up for all of us."

Balen repeated the conversation I had with Kilter.

"The cliff is the only hiding place, but if they discover her, she'll be trapped."

"If he manages to get out quietly, we won't have to worry about it," Jedrik said. "But I highly doubt that'll happen. Kilter's a cowboy."

"We don't have much choice," Keir said, pulling out his cell. "I'll contact Hack. If he's managed to get into their computer system, he could set up a distraction."

"So what's the deal?" Jedrik asked.

"Delara, attempt to track Kilter's movements and keep us posted on what he's up to. Jedrik, use your sight to get us as much data as you can around the perimeter. We have one day to get a lock on this place."

Keir hung up the phone. "Hack needs more time to get into their system." Keir kicked the small, wood chair at the desk and it toppled over. "Fuckin,' Kilter."

"I'll keep an eye on the gate. If there is any suspicion of us being here, I'll scent it," Balen said.

"I'll go with you," I said.

Balen scowled. "No fuckin' way, and this time, Danni, no argument. You're staying here. Period."

I didn't argue.

I GRABBED HER FROM behind just as she finished punching in the code. My arm locked around her waist and I yanked her up against my chest with a harsh jolt. "Keep your mouth shut." I pressed my knife to her throat. "Open the door."

Her back stiffened, but she obeyed without question. I kept her against my chest as we went inside. A camera hung up on the far right and it slowly turned in our direction. I shoved her against the wall, keeping our bodies out of its range.

I scanned the ceiling and then along the length of the wall. There. A vent. The camera swiveled in our direction—Fuck. I shoved her forward with my knife still on her jugular. She had yet to try to scream, which was a bonus. Actually, the chick didn't fight me at all.

I guessed we had twenty seconds before the camera hit us. I reached the vent and pushed her to the floor then shoved my knee in her back. "Scream and I'll snap your neck." Using my telekinesis, I focused on the vent's screws, and slowly, one by one, they began to move. A slight gasp emerged from the chick and I nudged her in the back.

I yanked the cover off the wall. "In. Now."

"If I'm missing, he'll—"

I grabbed her arm and pushed her into the vent. She climbed inside and I grunted at the echoing sound as she made her way down the duct. I jumped in after her; then put the cover back in place. I fixated on the screws and each one hovered in the air then inserted back in place.

I crawled along the air duct until I reached where it divided into two directions. The chick sat waiting for me.

"One sound and this knife," I ran my finger along the blade, "slices across your throat."

She didn't react and I thanked fuck I hadn't grabbed some screaming pain in the ass bitch. This chick I could deal with.

I sat with my back against the side of the spiral duct, my legs bent and one elbow resting on a knee. I glanced over at the woman, who had her arms locked around her knees and her cheek resting on them. Her face was gaunt, pale with dark circles under her eyes—pathetic looking.

The jeans she wore clung to her nonexistent body. No breasts, ass, or thighs. God, I could snap her in half.

The next words that came out of me were a surprise. "What's your deal? You sick?"

Her head raised and I stared into blank, void, brown eyes. Even her lips were thin.

"You deaf? Answer me." I was used to others doing exactly what I demanded.

"No," she replied.

I kept my expression cold and words abrupt. "Why do you look like a skeleton that got the living shit kicked out of it?"

She opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again. I could be patient when need be and we did have all night. I watched her, the slight movement of her fingers as they clasped together, her eyes staring at—nothing.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. If I didn't have enhanced hearing, there was no chance in hell I could've heard her. "I don't know."

Okay, she was fucked up. She was a machine with no emotions, no fight, and no passion. A dead fuck. Not that I'd even consider it. Hell no. I liked woman with curves, thighs that could wrap around me, and an ass I could grab.

Why the fuck I asked, I had no idea. "Have you considered eating?"

She ignored my question.

"Simple as fuck. Open fridge, see food, take food out, and place in mouth. Chew. Swallow."

Her eyes looked directly at me and met my cold stare. Then she shrugged and laid her head back on her knees.

Well, at least she wouldn't be complaining about being hungry for the next twelve hours we were stuck here. A lock of hair fell forward in front of her face and my hand reached out to push it back. I stopped myself inches before I touched her. What the fuck was I thinking? I was going to kill her in a few hours.

"Lie down and get some sleep," I ordered

When she didn't move, I grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to lie down. Unfortunately, her head was inches from my thigh. Her scent wafted into me and I tensed as my cock twitched. What the fuck? I seriously needed to get laid. I shifted away, then leaned my head back against the tunnel and closed my eyes.

It took ten minutes before I heard men running down the corridor. Doors slammed and men shouted in panicked voices. They were looking for her? I wondered if she was a scientist. They wouldn't be so frantic if she was the janitor. Who the hell was she?

I glanced over at the woman lying quietly beside me. If she gained thirty pounds, she might be considered beautiful. A few freckles graced the bridge of her small nose and her long eyelashes were jet black.

I knew she was pretending to sleep. Christ, the chick flinched every time footsteps ran down the corridor. I was curious and surprised she had kept her trap shut. One scream would've instantly given us away.

Maybe she wanted to live. There was no question I'd kill her if she opened her mouth. She may not look like much, but she was fuckin' smart to do as she was told.

My senses went on high alert.

Jesus. What the fuck?

I knew that smell and it reeked of CWO. What in the hell were they doing here? Those bastards could pick up on my telepathy—fuck. I'd have to go radio silent until it was time to kick some ass.

I wasn't often taken by surprise. I'd staked out this place for days and I failed to pick up on the CWOs. How the hell had that happened? I'd used my vision to scan every guard and not one had been a CWO. Were they kept underground unless there's an emergency? Cluster fuck. Well, at least I got off on cluster fucks.

It was hours later when I heard her rocking back and forth. She clutched her arms around her breasts like she was protecting herself. I shuffled over to her and shook her shoulder. "Wake up."

The chick reacted to my touch and, without opening her eyes, started punching and kicking. "Jesus." I wrapped my arms around her and I felt as if I was going to snap her in half. She was so goddamn frail. "Fuck, woman. Stay still. Do you want to die?"

She instantly stopped struggling. Her horrified eyes flew open and met mine. "Yes."

I stiffened, eyes narrowing. Her heartbeat raced faster than a cheetah running at full speed. "You want to die?"

"Yes."

I let her go, but cupped her chin so she couldn't look away from me. I knew my fingers dug hard into her chin and I was rather impressed, if that was at all possible. I gave pain with ease. She took it well.

"How long have you been in this shithole?" When she refused to answer I put my knife to her throat. "And, babe, answer me the first time. It really pisses me off to have to repeat myself."

Her thoughts plowed into me for one brief second— _and how many times have you told people that?_

I didn't take well to ridicule either. Nor did I take it easy on anyone who decided they'd take that chance. I should kill her now and save myself the trouble of dealing with trying to get information out of her. I'd interrogated enough people to know what made them give, but a woman . . . I'd rather fuck them than interrogate them.

"Seventeen years, three months, and two days," she replied.

Odd how she'd remember that, or was she just being a smartass? Also odd that she'd have just been a kid as she looked about twenty. "What's your specialty in this hellhole? Torturing innocent people or do you just like to watch?"

Her eyes flashed fire for a split second, coming alive for the first time. If I ever smiled, I would've at that moment, but it took too much effort and I had no inclination to waste it.

"I watch," she said.

I dropped my hand from her jaw with disgust. She was probably one of the ones who were doing experiments on Ryker.

I _should_ kill her now. Except sitting in an air duct the rest of the night with a dead body would suck. Besides, the smell might give me away.

I ignored her as she shifted further away from me. She stopped at three feet's distance and I allowed it. It wasn't as if she could escape.

"So you enjoy experimenting on innocent people." I should keep my mouth shut. But I wanted to hear her explanation, why she enjoyed hurting people.

"You know what they do here?" she asked. "I don't enjoy being—"

"Yeah, because you're a coldhearted bitch."

She jerked her eyes to me, and I saw that flash of anger again. But as fast as it came, it was gone. She shrugged like it didn't matter what I called her.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. A few more hours and I'd be gone; she'd be dead, and Ryker would be safe.

I LEANED UP AGAINST the wall of the dingy hotel room, arms crossed as I watched Danni sitting on the bed talking to Delara and Jedrik. After scouting the area, the mission was solid. Well, as solid as it could be with fuckin' Kilter pulling his bullshit.

Danni laughed at something Jedrik said.

I loved everything about her. The way she moved with no pretention. How her eyes gleamed when she laughed. The way her nose scrunched up button-like when she was pissed. But just as quick as it came, it could disappear. No grudges, because she had forgiveness in spades.

Her commitment issues were a hitch. I understood her apprehension about becoming too close to anyone. Shit, her mother died and then her father blew his brains out. Even though she was fighting for us, I sensed her hesitation, that inkling of dread that weighed heavy on us both.

I'd never leave her, at least not willingly, and if fate decided I'd leave this earth, then she was strong enough to stand alone. She wasn't her father. She'd survived torture and drowning, for Christ's sake. She may not see it, but Danni was strong as hell.

I sighed as I twisted the gold bands on my wrists. A sharp pain clutched my chest at the thought of another guy in Danni's arms after I was gone.

"Like hell," I muttered.

"Balen?" Danni asked, coming up beside me and taking my hand in hers.

_Nothing much, just thinking of you with another man._ "You need some sleep," I said with too much force in my voice. I squeezed her hand and kissed the tip of her nose, which was already scrunching up.

I was all fucked up and tense with this waiting and being uncertain where the hell Kilter was or what he was doing. The guy was blocking Danni from his mind; she'd tried several times to reach him with no response. Either he was dead or he was blocking her.

She managed to contact Ryker, but he'd given them no new info.

Danni leaned into me, her body blocking the others from view as she slid her hand down my chest to my jeans, and then . . . holy shit. Her hand slipped inside the waist band and the tips of her fingers touched the head of my cock.

"I want you, Balen," she whispered in the sexiest husky voice I'd ever heard.

I was frozen, unable to move as her hand wrapped around my cock. "Jesus." There was nothing like a chick, a chick I loved, asking to get fucked. It was the single hottest thing ever.

Keir, who was on his cell talking to Anstice, looked over at me. He frowned then turned away. I chuckled.

Danni pulled her hand out of my pants and walked toward the adjoining room. She stopped, looked over her shoulder, and then stuck her finger that was just on my cock in her mouth. Jesus.

I groaned as Danni disappeared.

" _Your girl needs you,"_ Keir said. " _If I had Anstice here, I'd be kicking all your asses to the curb."_

I nodded. _"Wake us in two hours."_

I went in the other room and locked the door.

Danni stood by the foot of the bed, her hand resting on her hip. "Love your body, babe." It had substance, so I could grab her and hold her, feel like she wasn't going to break when I fucked her. "And I'm going to have it."

I couldn't wait to sink my cock into her again. We'd been too busy running from this bullshit and all I wanted to do was explore every crevice with my tongue for the next month. Unfortunately, we didn't have a month. I didn't even know if we had more than a day.

She approached with slow, seductive strides as she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. My eyes trailed down her collarbone to her chest where she had on a red lace bra with a black bow in the center. Ripping the thing off with my teeth sounded like a damn good idea.

It looked like I wasn't getting the chance though as Danni unclasped the bra and it fell to the floor. My eyes went to the bra on the floor, up over her abdomen, and to her breasts.

Christ. My cock strained against my jeans.

I was losing it. Just seeing her nipples erect and ready for me to taste sent my heart racing. I fought the urgency to grab her and push her face first into the mattress and fuck the hell out of her.

I took a step toward her to do just that when she slowly shook her head. "Not yet."

I grinned. "You trying to change the rules here, little one?"

She shrugged and smiled. "Maybe." She unbuttoned her jeans, slid her hand inside her pants and touched herself.

Holy fuck. I nearly blew my load right then.

"You can't do shit like that and expect me to stay standing here." I took a step toward her. She stepped back, her hand still in her pants, except now I could see the movement beneath her jeans.

"I'm so goddamn wet for you right now, Balen."

I groaned and made a dive for her, but she was ready and leapt to the side. She removed her hand from her pants and then held up two fingers that glistened with her moisture.

"Baby," I groaned.

She caressed her lips with the moisture, and then her tongue darted out and licked. I swore I had a mini-orgasm as everything in me tightened. I was trying to keep my shit together but Danni was doing everything she could to sever all my control.

"I don't take well to teasing."

"Didn't think you would." She wiggled her ass as she slipped out of her jeans, taking her red panties with them.

My hand went to my cock as I stared at her and rubbed myself, trying to find some sort of release from the ache. But the second I touched myself, control broke and I groaned loud just before I went for her.

She screamed, one leg still stuck in her jeans as she tried to dart away. She would've crashed to the floor except for my arm locking around her waist and hauling her up against me so close that her ass was pressed into my cock. "You finished having your fun?" I made sure she wasn't going anywhere by tightening my hold.

Instead of answering, my little minx reached between her legs and started playing with herself again. Her head went back to rest on my chest and she moaned, her legs trembling.

"No fuckin' way." I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away, then forced her closer to the bed until her knees were up against it. "You want to play? I'll play. Bend over."

At that, she jerked and so did my cock.

"Balen?"

I pushed her onto the mattress, keeping my hand on the small of her back. "And I know you're okay like this. You said so yourself. Only lying on your back bothers you."

"Well—"

I smacked her ass once.

"Balen, stop."

"You need to get off; my fingers can do a way better job than yours can. All you need to do is ask." I kept pressure on her back while my other hand undid my jeans, and then I shoved them off my ass and my cock sprang free. It never felt so fuckin' good.

"Balen, I'm not sure—" I smacked her again, a little harder, but only enough to get her attention and she moaned. It was a good moan and it made the blood drain from every part of my body and go straight to my cock.

"I'm going to fuck you now, little one. And it's going to be hard. You good with that?"

She nodded, her cheek pressed into the mattress and I could see the desire whirling in her eyes. I ran my fingers down her back then grabbed my cock, slid it between her moisture and then up her ass crack.

She tensed for a second as I played a bit around her ass, knowing she was uncertain whether I was going to fuck her there or not.

"Not this time." I pressed at the tightened puckered spot. "But we will. And Danni," I leaned over her and kissed the back of her neck, "it's going to hurt and you're going to love every second of it."

I pressed my hips hard into hers and she arched, pushing back. "Would you stop fucking around and put that beautiful cock inside me?"

I chuckled and it was the first time I'd actually laughed while in the middle of sex. Damn, I loved this woman. My eyes hit the gold bands and I froze. She must have felt the sudden tension in me because she titled her head up to look at me.

She reached for my one hand resting on the mattress. Her fingers interlocked with mine and squeezed. We both knew what was coming. We'd fought against it. We'd run from it. We'd fought together over it.

I'd asked her to fight. Fight what? The gold bands were my prison.

Her soft whisper leaked into me and it wasn't what I expected. "Baby. Cock. Now."

Those words from her mouth snapped any control I had left. I pressed my tip to her wet entrance then grabbed her by the hips, and with one hard shove, thrust deep. She screamed, her body tensing and her hand linked with mine, curling.

I knew my fingers were bruising her hips, but I couldn't help it. I slammed into her, loving the sound of her ass and my pelvis slapping together over and over again. She moaned and pressed back into me. I drove harder. I let go of one hip and slid my hand beneath her and found her clit.

I grinned when her breath hitched and she moaned.

"Not yet." I played back and forth while I continued to thrust into her, the bed creaking from my hard thrusts. "Wait for me," I ground out.

Not that I was lasting much longer.

"Balen," she cried. "Please. Now."

I should've made her wait. I wanted to make her wait, but I was losing it and . . ."Now. Fuck, now." I groaned and my cock lurched.

Her muscles tightened and clenched around me as we both came. Her back arched and fists pulled at the sheets. I rolled my hips, keeping her ass tight to me.

I leaned over and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back so I could reach her mouth. Then I kissed her, slow and hard, taking what she was giving me—all of her.

And yet, I couldn't have all of her, could I?

I roughly pulled back and slipped my cock from the heated moisture. I looked down at myself. Fuck. No condom. Jesus.

I never did it without a condom. Even though we were Scars, we could still get a woman pregnant, human or not.

She flipped over onto her back and I could tell by her expression that she knew exactly what I was thinking. She reached out her hand, smiling.

I curled my arms around her and kissed the top of her head. Fuck, if she got pregnant and I wasn't here . . . that was so not a cool thing to do.

"It would be a gift, Balen." Danni snuggled her ass back into me and I heard her sigh as I slowly stroked her abdomen.

Fuck, my girl had just read my mind.

I HAD TO TAKE a piss and I suspected so did the chick, so we crawled down the tunnel where both of us could relieve ourselves. That was a fuckin' joy considering the chick wouldn't piss unless I moved further down the tunnel. She had the fuckin' nerve to tell me to turn my back. I told her to piss or get her ass back down the tunnel. I won.

We'd spent sixteen hours hiding in the bloody air duct, and still, men searched for her. I guessed the little toothpick was more important than I thought. The funny thing was, if a worker went AWOL it was thought she went home or quit her job. These guys were racing around like she was the goddamn Queen of England.

"They'll never stop looking for me," she said.

"They will if you're dead," I shot back. Two men went running past the vent and down the corridor. I heard the outside door open and close. It wouldn't be the last of them, but sundown was crawling up my ass and we had to get a move on.

"We're leaving," I said. "Out. Now."

I slid to the end of the duct and put my feet up against the grill. I gave one kick with both feet and the cover gave, flying across the hall and crashing into the adjacent wall. I'd wasted enough time and refused to wait another night to get Ryker out. I was getting this shit done now.

She crawled out after me and I quickly put my knife to her throat and pushed her across the hall where the camera would miss us.

I never hesitated to kill before. I did whatever was necessary, period. And she was a liability. She had to die. But questions had to be answered first.

"Where are they keeping Ryker?"

"Who is Ryker?"

"Don't play stupid, girl. The Scar, he's in this building. Where is he?" I yanked backward on her hair. "Answer me." I yanked harder on her hair and she winced.

"I'll take you to him, but promise you'll take me with you."

I was rarely surprised, but I was shocked as hell. There were no chains or devices on her. Why would she want to leave? Was she going to try to infiltrate the Scars? Lead her friends to them? Fuck that.

"No." I didn't do deals. It was my way or nothing.

"Then kill me," she said.

I tensed. "Why?"

"Because I'm a coward and I can't do it myself," she said matter-of-factly.

I turned her around so her chest was up against mine. She met my eyes and I saw the one tear slide down her cheek. "Jesus Christ. Why the hell are you crying?"

" _Kilter, I've been trying to reach you all day. Thirty minutes until sundown, and then those sensors will be turned on. Have you found Ryker?_ "

Fuck, Danni.

The woman in my arms remained unresponsive, almost as if she was dead already. A corpse with tears. Shit, if I didn't need her, I'd gut her and forget about her haunted deep-brown eyes.

" _Working on it,"_ I replied.

" _I suggest you get a move on then. We're in position."_

" _I suggest you get the fuck off my case,"_ I shot back. "Why?" I had no time for this shit, yet here I was asking about her life story.

"I hate him," she said. She raised her hand to the knife and I let her, knowing I could react a hell of a lot faster than she could. One move and I'd slit her throat or snap it; either way would get the job done.

"Who?" I asked. Why the fuck I cared, I had no clue, but the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"My husband."

Shit, she wanted to die because of a crappy marriage? _Suck it up; you did it. Live with it, princess._

She put her fingers on the blade and pushed it into her neck. A red trickle of blood slid down her skin. She pressed harder and I reacted, grabbing her arm and wrenching it behind her back. Okay, so she had a death wish.

"Take me to Ryker." Threatening to end her life had no effect, so I used another tactic—lying. "I'll take you with us. But don't come crying to me when you suddenly miss your husband."

The relief that emanated from her body was overwhelming. Her eyes closed, muscles relaxed, and she sagged in my arms. I had no use for crying, pathetic females. I pushed her away from me.

"Where the fuck is he?"

She nodded to the door next to them. "In there."

I cursed under my breath. Across the hall from the vent, all goddamn night, and I never even felt him. Walls had to be a foot thick in steel. "Open the door."

She approached, putting her hand on the code box. "As soon as I open this door, they'll know. The door is linked with a main security station, and they'll—"

"Open the fuckin' door, woman."

She hesitated again, and if I didn't need the goddamn code to get through the steel, I'd make her wish come true. "What now?"

"If we're caught, kill me."

"Fuck, woman, you sure have a death wish. Yeah, I'll rip out your jugular, okay?"

She stared at me a second, then turned and pressed the code and the steel door unlocked. She entered first and I followed. I was unprepared for what I saw. Ryker lay sleeping or unconscious, hooked up to a million monitors, tubes, and needles. An intravenous bag filled with clear fluid dripped into his right arm. Another was filled with blood. Three straps held him to a table, one on his neck, another around his chest, and the last on his calves.

"As soon as any of these are disconnected, they'll come. My guess, one minute." She stared down at Ryker, expression calm and accepting at what was being done to him. _Cold bitch._

I began disconnecting the tubes and needles. Monitors began to beep a loud warning bell. "Just don't stand there, get this shit off him."

She was methodical as she helped him, but I did notice her avoid touching Ryker's skin. "Afraid of catching a disease, babe?"

She ignored me and I cut the straps with my knife, then picked Ryker up and threw him over my shoulder. "Let's go." Without waiting for her, I ran from the room and contacted Danni.

" _We're clear. Take the amulet, unwrap it and put it around your neck. Place it between your palms when I tell you. Don't you dare question me. Just do it, and for fuck's sake, no matter what happens, don't let it go or Ryker's dead."_

I heard footsteps running up from the basement.

"The roof. Get me there."

She nodded and went ahead of me to a door at the end of the corridor. She pressed in another code and I heard a click. She pushed the steel door open and started running up the stairs.

Ryker was still unconscious and his limp body felt like an ice cube; however, his heart pumped slow and steady, and his respiration was stable. I followed her up five flights of stairs until we reached another door. She repeated the process, punching in a code and pushing open the door. Sunlight came pouring into the stairwell.

" _You better have that bloody amulet ready. When I say, think of Ryker and Hannah. Understand? Nothing else. No other fuckin' thoughts."_

I sure as hell hoped the bloody thing worked, or we were fucked. Becoming a lab rat was not my idea of a good day.

Hannah, you better have loved this guy.

There were footsteps—a herd of them. It was now or never. I went through the door and ran across the rooftop, the woman close at my heels. I stood at the edge of the building.

People shouted.

The door opened.

I heaved Ryker off my shoulder.

" _Now!_ " I shouted to Danni.

I released my hold, and Ryker's limp form fell over the edge of the building. I watched. Waiting for it to happen. If I believed in praying, now would be the time, but I didn't, so instead, I swore a few curses.

And then it happened—halfway to Ryker's body landing as a pile of broken bones on the unforgiving ground, I saw the image.

Hannah. Her arms wrapped around his body, encasing him, protecting him with her celestial form. An aura of blue light swirled around them, circling like a shield, as Hannah lowered Ryker to the ground, her translucent form holding him as if he were a feather.

Her finger grazed his lips and then over his eyelids; she caressed him with the softest touch, like he was made of crystal. One tear slid down her pale left cheek and landed on Ryker's neck, seeping into his skin and vanishing.

" _Get him out of here, Hannah."_ I was uncertain if she was capable of hearing me.

Hannah peered upward and our gazes locked. She smiled with a slight nod, then wrapped her arms around Ryker and floated off the ground, his body vanishing within her embrace. In a flash of brilliant light, they were gone.

Well, fuck me—it worked. _Guess Hannah loved him._ Now for my own disappearing act, which had nothing mystical about it. Jump and run like hell.

A shift of gravel to my left reminded me that the chick was still beside me. She was staring over the edge of the building, her mouth gaping.

"He . . . that woman . . . she's gone with . . . he just . . ."

"Let her go," a deep, crackly voice said from behind us.

I slowly turned with a sardonic grin on my face. I was surrounded by at least eight men and eight guns. Nice. I liked a challenge. At least no CWOs were present. Yet.

The woman's feet moved closer to me and closer to the edge of the roof. So close, her heels were hanging over.

"No." I latched onto her arm. "You jump, you won't die. You'll break both legs and be in a hell of a lot of pain." Bitch wanted to die; well, I had no intention of giving her that wish. She'd have to suffer and survive what she'd gotten herself into.

"You don't understand," she said.

"Do I give a shit?" With one swift movement, I hooked my arm around her neck and pulled her in front of me, knife at her throat. _Use or be used._

My chances of making it out of here were close to nil. I knew that going in. My abilities were good, but not that good when faced with this kind of firepower. Odds were a bullet would do me in because, sure as hell, being taken alive was not on my list of things to do. The important thing was Ryker was out. My debt was paid in full.

Her voice cut into me. It was a soft whisper that caressed my skin and dug into my heart like a pitchfork. When I looked into her eyes there was hurt mixed with confusion.

"Your promise," she said.

"Yeah, well, if you knew me, you wouldn't trust a fuckin' thing I say." I nearly apologized when I saw the truth hit her. It was as if I'd slapped her across the face then punched her in the stomach. I hadn't expected such a reaction. I felt every vessel pumping, muscles constricting and then . . . then, there were her eyes. Nothing could describe the horror I saw in them. Her dark shades of hazel brown glistened with tears reflecting with the sinking sun.

The guards approached cautiously, their guns cocked and aimed at us. The door burst open again and a tall, lithe man strode out. The guards parted like the Red Sea.

So, this was the King of the Piranhas.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The man stood with a wide stance, his arms crossed, and a pompous expression.

Dickhead.

The fucker made a tsking sound, shaking his head like he was scolding a five-year-old for not making their bed. "What have you been up to, wife?"

She flinched. Okay, even this chick didn't deserve to be married to this ass.

" _Kilter? Delara and Jedrik are at the north wall. Get out now,_ " Danni shouted.

Piranha King reached out his hand, palm up. "Come here, Rayne."

I tightened my grip and whispered into her ear. "Yeah, I'd divorce him, babe."

"You have no escape," the pretentious tight-ass said. "Surrender and you'll live."

To be his lab rat? "Fuck you," I growled.

An arrow soared through the air and hit the guard on the left of the anal-retentive husband. Jedrik was right on time. The guards dove for cover looking in every direction, guns aimed and ready but with no target. I made my move and shoved Rayne forward into the distracted guards, and then turned and jumped.

Bullets went wild and I wondered if the woman had gotten her wish after all.

I landed in the grass on my feet and rolled to the side of the building for cover. Two more arrows flew above and I heard shouts and the scrambling of feet on the rooftop.

" _Get going, hero,"_ Jedrik said. _"Two above you, the rest have taken to the stairs. Bingo, one above you. Just been spotted."_

I took one step to make a sprint across the grass to the north wall when I faltered. A woman's scream rose into the air. Shivers coursed down my spine and my heart literally stopped for seconds. For once in my miserable life, I knew I'd been wrong. That one scream said it all.

"Fuck."

Ice shifted through my veins. Sweet Jesus, I'd just left that girl in the hands of a madman.

Bullets hissed past my head and I slammed my back against the building. It was a hell of a run to the wall, especially with bullets chasing after me. I liked a challenge, but I'd rather be killed by a Grit than a bloody human with bullets. Goddamn undignified.

I ran anyway. Arrows went past me, one after the other as the guards made it to ground level and chased after me. A bullet slammed into the back of my shoulder and I stumbled. Twenty yards. Fifteen yards. I saw Jedrik lying on top of the wall, his hand outstretched and ready to help me.

Ten yards. A searing pain exploded into my leg and it gave out on me. I fell to the ground with a grunt. Jedrik swore. Obviously, they were either bad shots, or they were ordered to keep me alive because I should be dead right now.

I ground my teeth as I unsteadily got up, holding my leg. Another bullet hit my good calf, and my legs gave out completely.

" _Get the fuck out of here,"_ I shouted to Jedrik. _"Blow this place sky high._ "

" _No way, asshole,"_ Jedrik retorted.

The guards aimed their guns at Jedrik. It was then I saw movement to the west as Keir and Balen came running toward me. Balen threw a grenade and a loud bang sounded behind me, then several animalistic sounds of pain.

With his throwing knives, Keir hit a guard in the forehead who was aiming at Jedrik.

Balen reached me first, grabbed my arm, and hauled me to my feet. I ignored the agonizing pain in my legs as I was pulled forward into a run. Keir and Jedrik gave cover as we staggered to the wall. My legs were fuckin' useless, and my shoulder was burning like an inferno. Still, I grabbed Jedrik's outstretched hand and he pulled me onto the wall. Delara stood on the other side waiting.

"Go. Go. Go." Delara slipped her knife in its holster and stood ready as Jedrik lowered me over the side. She stumbled under my weight but managed to keep the pressure off my legs as she wrapped her arm around my waist.

"Cutting it close, aren't you?" Delara said. She hauled me forward into a run.

"Is Ryker safe?"

"Yeah. Had a sweet scent of Hannah overhead. Amulet do that?" Delara asked.

I nodded.

"Nice plan. Would've been nice to know about it. I've scented some strange shit in that compound. Probably CWOs. They're not wasting any time coming after us with that cowboy stunt you just pulled."

"He's safe, isn't he?" I looked back over my shoulder and saw Balen, Keir, and Jedrik head in the opposite direction. Their never-lead-the-enemy-toward-the wounded tactic. They'd make themselves visible until they were certain Delara had gotten me to safety.

Delara dragged my sorry ass across the open field toward an area where the ground dipped into a valley. Her pace quickened and I felt as if I was going to pass out as my vision blurred. Fuck that, Delara wouldn't leave me behind, and she couldn't carry me. And no way in hell was I letting either of us become lab rats to that psycho.

Especially since I knew, one day I'd have to come back for _her._

KILTER RAISED HELL, JUST as I fuckin' expected. The guy was known to do things his way and none too quietly. The good news was the amulet worked. Hannah had brought Ryker to safety. Obviously, Kilter had known what the amulet was capable of.

" _Danni, we're out. On my way. Stay where you are."_

" _Can't really go too far,_ " she replied.

If I wasn't running like hell, I'd have laughed.

Jedrik and Keir ran beside me as we weaved our way to the west of the compound toward the cliff. The bastards were trying to get the gates open, which were slow as molasses—not that I was complaining. Delara and Kilter had fallen out of sight over the dip in the hill. They'd be close to the car by now and would meet us at the rendezvous.

We ran around to the north of the compound and stopped at the edge of the cliff. "Danni, grab the rope."

"Got it," she said and I felt a tug.

"Fuck. Gates are opening," Keir said. "Vehicles moving."

I hauled ass, pulling Danni up the side of the cliff. As soon as I saw her face, I breathed a heavy sigh. I grabbed her hand and pulled her onto solid ground then wrapped my arms around her.

"Balen. God, I heard gunshots." She ran her hands over my chest, searching for wounds. It was fuckin' cute. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, little one. I'm good."

"Company's coming," Jedrik shouted. "One Jeep headed after Delara and Kilter, one coming right at us. Five men. A walk in the park." Jedrik readied his bow and crouched down at the corner of the compound wall. "Taking out the front right tire."

I grabbed Danni's hand and pulled her to the cover of the wall and put her back against it. "Don't move."

The smell that came hurtling into me was warning enough to tell me we were in trouble here. I didn't have to tell Keir and Jedrik as they exchanged how-the-hell-is-this-possible looks.

Jedrik took out the front right tire and the truck skidded on the gravel then came to a halt. Five men jumped out and came running toward us. Keir got two shots off, but it did nothing to slow them down.

"Frig." Jedrik aimed. His arrow hit one in the chest. The guy's step faltered as he pulled the arrow from his flesh and threw it aside. "Grit," Jedrik announced.

"What the hell? They're all CWOs. Second on the right is a Maggot, smell apples as clear as day." I had to get Danni out of here.

"Two Grits," Keir said, taking aim, firing a shot, and hitting one guy in the head. He kept coming. "SOB just won't die."

I glanced at Danni, her face pale, but she was holding the gun I'd given her. _"That's my girl."_

A Grit plowed into Jedrik and they flew into the air and landed in a heap. I pulled my knives from beneath my coat and ran at the other Grit. Keir went after the two Maggots, who had the annoying capability of growing back injured limbs. The last guy was a Long Neck—big, burly, and slow—who also had to be decapitated to die. He went straight for Danni.

" _Danni, the guy, he's a Long Neck. Remember what I told you. Aim for his throat."_

I swung my knife at the Grit as the guy came barging into me. The knife went straight into the guy's stomach and we both tumbled to the ground. I rolled to the side, taking my knife with me. The Grit cursed and grabbed for my leg, wrenching it to the side. I kicked out with my free leg, dislodging the Grit's grip and rolling away. I climbed to my feet and—

I heard several gun shots, and then Danni's scream.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the Long Neck grab the gun from her hand and toss it aside. "Danni," I shouted and threw my knife in her direction. It landed on the ground at her feet and she dove for it.

My line of vision was blocked as the Grit came back at me. I tried to dodge the fierce punch but failed and it sent me flying through the air and into the stone wall.

"One down," Keir shouted as a head went rolling across the ground and over the side of the cliff.

"Balen!"

Fuck. I couldn't get to her and neither could the others.

I elbowed the Grit in the face and the guy's head shot back and his grip loosened. I took advantage and drove an uppercut to his chin, causing him to stagger back.

Ten feet.

I dove at the guy, a cold fury enveloping my body at the thought of anything happening to Danni. I ducked as a fist came swinging in my direction. A kick to the abdomen sent the Grit back another few steps.

Five feet.

My knife did nothing to the Grit since they healed spontaneously. Already the wound to the guy's stomach was gone. I needed to deliver one more solid punch. I went full throttle at the guy with my fists, but this time, the Grit was ready and managed a kick to my jaw. I staggered back and shook my head to clear my vision.

I heard the scuffling of feet around me, but had no time to see how Keir, Jedrik, or Danni were managing. All I knew was this fucker was going over the edge of the cliff. I ran at him, and then, when we were one foot away from each other, I crouched and swung out my right leg, sending the guy to his ass. I didn't hesitate as I picked the Grit up by his collar and swung my fist into his nose then pushed him backward as hard as I could. The Grit staggered, trying to gain his balance.

One foot.

His heels were on the edge of the cliff and he teetered there for seconds before I gave one more shot to the head and he vanished over the edge.

Jedrik was holding his own with the other Grit, attempting to do the same thing and getting him to the edge of the cliff.

I turned just as Keir's Ink left his body and shifted into form. It looked half man and half panther, its eyes solid white, having no sight except what Keir saw. Its huge paw darted out, its claws extending as it hissed and sneered at the Maggot. Keir's expression contorted in pain as his Ink took over. The animal made a dive for the enemy, hooked him with his front paws, and pulled back in one sharp jerk. The Maggot's head was now between the Ink's paws. A low growl sounded and the Ink ingested the head in one swallow. He looked up, hesitated. Then, in a flicker of bright light, the Ink reconnected with Keir, once again a tattoo.

"You okay, man?" Jedrik asked, grabbing Keir's arm as he stumbled.

Keir nodded.

Using our Ink was dangerous. It could take over our body if we let it, and it was difficult to control.

I nodded to Keir and ran in the direction of where Danni had been.

No Long Neck.

No Danni.

"Which way did they go?" Fear gripped me as I looked around. Fuckin' Christ. Did she fall over the cliff? Had the Long Neck killed her? No, she was alive. She had to be. I'd feel something if she were dead. I refocused and used my tracking ability, scenting her footsteps in the grass, determining which way they went.

"Back toward the gate," I said.

I ran. My senses were all screwed up as blood, fear, and pain mixed together, giving me no clear indication of Danni. I heard footsteps behind me and knew Jedrik and Keir were right with me.

It barreled into me as I rounded the corner of the building. Danni. The Long Neck dragged her struggling body toward the gates of the compound. I picked up my speed, everything in my body raging

No. Fuck, no.

CRATER FACE HELD ME against his chest, his hand clamped tight around my neck and I drew in ragged breaths, fighting for air. I kicked backward, hitting his shins, but it was pathetic. The guy was huge like a Mack truck with the smell of rotting garbage. He smelled the same as the guy in the bar when I was attacked in the bathroom.

" _Balen."_ My fingernails dug into the buzzard hands that closed around my neck, tearing at them, but it only caused him to tighten his hold.

" _Right behind you."_

The Long Neck must have heard the running footsteps behind us because he stopped and swung around so I became his shield.

"Let her go." Balen's voice was a low growl of fury.

My head swam and my vision blurred from lack of oxygen.

"If she dies, you'll have no hostage," Keir said.

The pressure on my neck loosened and I wildly sucked in gulps of air.

"I die if I let her go. I die if she dies," the Long Neck said. "So, she comes with me and we all live."

"Not a chance, asshole," Jedrik said with his bow and arrow ready to pierce the guy's forehead.

" _Danni, I'm going to release Talu, the Ink on my back."_

" _The what?"_

" _Just do as I say. A tiger—"_

" _A tiger?"_ I must have heard him wrong.

" _Danni, it's my tattoo, my Ink. It is part of me. The tiger on my back."_ Holy shit. _"It will come at you both. When you see it, leap and move to the left. Talu will go straight for his neck. Get out of there. Okay? I can't always control Talu, so do whatever it takes to get out of his way, baby."_

" _For real?"_

" _Yeah, little one, for real."_

" _Umm, okay."_ I wondered how on earth I was going to move my head when the hand around my neck was unrelenting. I was also freakin' out about this tiger he was talking about that he didn't always have control of. But I'd try anything to get out of the hands of this crater-faced, bulk of steel, even if it meant facing whatever the hell Balen was talking about.

"What the—" the Long Neck said just before a magnificent black and orange form dove for us.

The tiger had piercing green eyes and a magnificent, luscious striped coat. His large paws covered the ground between the Scars and me then leapt into the air with a low growl.

Two screams of panic tangled together as me and the Long Neck struggled to get out of the way of Talu's long white fangs.

Talu's front paws hit me in the chest and knocked both me and my captor to the ground. I heard Balen's voice in the background, shouting at Talu in a language I didn't understand. With the wind knocked out of me, I struggled to breathe as the tiger stood, massive and magnificent, above us. I felt Talu's drool drip onto my face, and I froze for seconds, staring into eyes that looked exactly like Balen's.

I realized this animal was a part of him. They were connected on a level that was beyond any human's comprehension. I wanted to reach out and touch the beautiful animal, run my hands through its coat and ease the rage that swam in its eyes.

I raised my hand just as I felt my body being dragged out from under the tiger and away from the Long Neck's grasp. Within seconds, I saw what Talu was capable of, and it horrified me to think that I had wanted to touch him.

The beast made a low-pitched growl just before he sank his fangs into the Long Neck's jugular. The CWO screamed; his face a mask of terror. With a sharp jerk of his head, Talu ripped a chunk of the flesh away. Blood spurted everywhere and the tiger rejoiced in it as he continued to eat at the Long Neck until his head was decapitated from his body.

I gagged, turning away from the sight. Balen pulled me up against him, my head in the crook of his shoulder. I could still hear the sound of tearing flesh and bones breaking as the wild beast devoured the body.

"Talu," Balen called. "Talu!"

Jedrik mumbled, "Oh, man," and Keir took a few steps back from Balen.

"Adveho iam vel vos mos nunquam eat iterum," Balen said.

I glanced over my shoulder as Talu raised his head and peered at Balen and then at its prey. His striped coat was splattered in blood and his muzzle was now a pink hue. He seemed to be thinking about whatever Balen had said. Talu howled then came bounding toward Balen.

Oh, my God. He was coming straight for us, muzzle dripping in blood, eyes gleaming. I tried to escape, but Balen held me tight.

"Don't move," he whispered.

Talu hesitated a foot away, his eyes staring at me as if he was uncertain whether to trust me being so close to Balen. Then the tiger licked his muzzle and made a leap toward us. I squeezed my eyes shut and hid my face in Balen's chest as Talu's form shot into Balen's skin.

Balen took my hand. "Can you run?"

I nodded. Hell yeah. Even if both my legs were broken, I'd run to get away from these bastards.

"Let's hit it," Jedrik said, grinning.

We ran.

KILTER MUMBLED AND COMPLAINED in a drunken stupor as Jedrik assisted him into the Talde house. Everyone had slept on the plane except for the asshole, who drank himself stupid. I wasn't sure if it was to cover the pain of his wounds or something else.

Anstice gave Keir a quick hug and kiss, and then was all business as she directed Jedrik to the Tomb where she said she had a place ready for Kilter. Before following after them, she came over to Danni and pulled her into a fierce hug. I watched my sister's face, filled with concern and love for her friend. It was hard to stand and watch what I so badly wanted from my sister. But it was love I didn't deserve.

Ryker came in last. He'd woken when we were getting off the plane and he looked like a bomb ready to detonate. The rage sitting inside him was ready to erupt any second or it could sit and simmer for years. It was anyone's guess what he'd do with Hannah gone. Keir had tried to talk to him on the plane, and it took Jedrik and Delara to get Ryker off Keir.

Ryker pushed past Keir and walked straight to the kitchen then descended into the Tomb.

Until things settled in Newfoundland, Kilter and Ryker were staying in Toronto. Keir had decided it was better for the Talde to regroup and learn more about the compound before blowing it sky high. We didn't know whether other Scars were being held there. Until they contacted the Taldeburu, Xamien, in Spain and figured out if any Taldes in Europe had warriors missing, the compound remained as is.

"You hurt anywhere?" Anstice asked, pulling back and looking Danni up and down.

"No. God, it was . . . Anstice, if I don't see another knife, gun, or arrow, it will be too soon." I pulled her back to me and rested my hand on the small of her back. "And there were these guys, shit, they wouldn't die. I swear they were machines or something."

Anstice frowned, her eyes darting to me and then Keir. "You never told me there were CWOs. You said men from the compound."

Keir shrugged. "Yeah, a few. I'll check on Ryker."

"I'm sure Hack's doing that," Anstice shot back, but Keir was already headed for the kitchen.

The air in the room grew heavy and warm with a mild breeze. Fuck, they didn't waste any time. I dropped my arm from Danni and rubbed the gold bands on my wrists. A constant reminder that I wasn't free. That I was leaving.

"Balen?" Danni questioned at my sudden withdrawal.

"They're coming."

Anstice placed her hand on top of mine, which was still rubbing the band. I froze, unable to move at the sudden show of affection from the one person I'd wanted to know my entire life.

"I . . . I want to . . ." Anstice stopped in mid-sentence and threw her arms around me, burying her head against my shoulder. "We never got our chance. I want our chance to be brother and sister."

I looked over at Danni, who smiled, and I slowly raised my arms and brought them around my sister for the first time. Tears pooled in my eyes as her warmth and kindness seeped into my body. I'd waited so long to be close to my sister. Years, I'd waited, watched, hoped. And then that hope had been fucked up two years ago. Did I have another chance with her?

I knew the answer; the proof was in the gold around my wrists. I finally had a chance at love with Danni, a chance to get to know my sister, and both were being ripped from my grasp.

I pulled back and Anstice wiped the tears from her eyes while sniffling back sobs. She leaned over and pressed her lips to my forehead, then whispered into my ear, "You'll always be my brother and I'll always love you. You made the right choice, Balen."

There were no words I could express that would tell her how much that single sentence meant to me.

Edan appeared in a ball of fire, and Tor right behind him in swirling red dust particles.

Danni's breath hitched.

Fuck. I had no recourse. I couldn't save her from the hurt I saw in her eyes.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" I said to Edan.

Edan snorted. "And you've wasted plenty of mine."

Tor spoke as if Edan hadn't. "You have earned back the trust of the warriors for the rescue of Ryker." He looked to Danni. "Welcome to the Scars." Tor turned his attention back to me, his expression lacking any sort of warmth. "Waleron has been released from the realm. You'll accompany us to await the verdict."

I approached Tor, unable to look at Danni. I felt her anguish and knew firsthand what this was doing to her—to us.

Walking those five steps was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

Danni grabbed my arm and tugged me to a halt. Fuck, it felt like I was being ripped in two. She threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my chest, sobs racking her body. I held her to me, my hand at the small of her back, the other stroking her hair. "I have to go."

"Release him," Edan said stepping forward.

"No," Danni cried, interlocking her fingers behind my neck. "He's innocent. Can't you bastards see that? Are you so stupid that you can't see that this man saved me and Ryker? Why are you destroying his life? No, I won't let him go."

"Danni." It was like being stabbed over and over again. I hated seeing her like this.

"Release him or we will be forced to harm you," Edan said with a menacing tone.

"Do it then," Danni shouted. "Because that's what you do best. Harm innocent people. So do whatever you want to me because if Balen is guilty, then so am I."

"Christ," Keir said, walking in from the kitchen. He went to stand in front of Anstice like a shield.

"Danni," Anstice warned.

I reached between us and cupped her chin. "Danni, I'm guilty." When she went to object, I put my finger to her lips. "We've known this was coming. Shit, I've known for two years." My thumb slowly grazed over the cleft in her chin. "You're a Scar, Danni. The others will watch over you, teach you. They're your family now."

"But I need you." Danni tightened her hold around my neck. "I can't do this. I thought . . . I thought I was strong enough, but I'm not. Don't leave me." Tears streaked down her face and landed on my shirt.

I pried her fingers from around my neck.

"No." Danni shook her head. "Never. They can't take you. I won't let them."

I raised my head, breaking my gaze from the heart-wrenching pain I saw in Danni's eyes. I looked at Keir and nodded. Keir approached and took Danni by the shoulders, pulling her away. She struggled at first and then stopped, her eyes meeting mine.

" _You're not your father. Remember that. You're strong and courageous. Be the woman I fell in love with. Be that survivor, little one. You need to let me go now."_

Tor touched my arm and, within seconds, we vanished.

I SCREAMED, FALLING TO my knees and holding my head in my hands, body shaking. This was what my father felt every single day he lived without my mother. This was why he wanted to end his life. I understood now. I felt his pain, knew it like it was my second skin. And it hurt like nothing I'd ever experienced before.

I'd thought I was prepared. He wore the gold bands; I'd felt them on my body, reminding me that he'd be taken from me, but the reality had never hit until this moment.

I didn't bother wiping away my tears. "What will happen to him?" I looked up at Keir.

"He'll remain imprisoned until the Deaconry votes on his punishment again."

"Can I visit him?"

"No," Keir said.

"Will we be together again?"

"Probably not."

A sob escaped and I swallowed several times. Did it matter anymore? Did anything matter? I loved him and he'd been torn from my arms. I didn't understand. Refused to understand how Balen, after all he suffered and had done for us, could be imprisoned.

Kilter stormed into the room with a severe limp. His face was haggard and his eyes were narrowed into slits of fury. He still had blood on his legs and shoulder. "What the fuck is going on?"

I glanced up at him then looked away. Suddenly his hand was around my upper arm and he yanked me off the floor then shoved me onto the couch. I had no energy to refuse.

I heard them talking, yet everything was a blur: the drowning, the transformation, Ryker, the Wraiths. I was numb except for desolation. How could I live without him?

I remembered him giving me water through the bars of the cage despite him being in so much pain. I'd been a stranger to him then, and yet, he . . . he sacrificed his sister, his Scars to stop me from being tortured. He gave his life for me.

"Danni." Anstice came and sat on the couch beside me, taking my hands.

I remembered his smile, his laugh that made my insides light up like a Christmas tree, his hands that made my skin tingle and my heart skip a beat.

Oh, God, he was letting me go. His last words to me were clear—he was letting me go. Except I didn't want to be let go, damn it. For the first time in my life, I wanted a man to love, to laugh with, to grow old with.

But I'd never grow old now. I was a Scar. Immortal. Alone and immortal.

Anstice pulled me into her arms. "I'm sorry, Danni. God, I'm so sorry."

The air in the room shifted, and tension rose as a cloud of mist swirled near the mantel. Within seconds, Waleron appeared, his expression the same as always—stone cold.

He opened his candy dispenser and slipped a white pill on his tongue. "Where's Delara?"

Silence.

"Where. Is. She?" Waleron demanded.

"She took off as soon as the plane landed," Keir said.

"Where to?" Waleron asked.

"She flew back with us, but didn't say where she was going," Keir answered.

Waleron's gaze landed on Jedrik. "Find her." Jedrik swore beneath his breath. Waleron raised his hand as Kilter began to speak. "You'll remain here until I decide what's to be done in Newfoundland." Waleron lowered his voice. "Assist Danielle in learning her acquired skills."

"This is bullshit." Kilter kicked out at the little coffee table.

Waleron scowled. "Newfoundland is a liability until the compound is destroyed."

"I can do that alo—"

Waleron interrupted Kilter. "No. You will not do it alone. And if you disobey me, I'll put you in Rest."

Waleron glanced over at me, and a shiver ran down my spine at his direct, cold stare. "I'll return when the decision regarding Balen has been reached." He left in a cloud of mist.

No one said anything.

I knew this had been coming. It was inevitable. However, suddenly, it all just seemed wrong.

For two days, I lay in bed unable to eat. Any noise made my heart rate spike, thinking it was Waleron with news of Balen. But the Taldeburu had disappeared just like Balen and Delara.

There was still no word as to Balen's fate.

Anstice brought me food every day, which I left untouched. The thought of eating made my stomach churn and water was the only thing I could keep down. I even wondered if the Bonding spell was still in play because it sure felt like I was dying. In reality, I knew there was no physical sickness, just emotions beating my body like a punching bag.

Hack looked in on me briefly—like he had to see for himself that I still lived and breathed—although he never said anything.

Jedrik came and sat with me while I dozed on and off. He rambled and urged me to get out of bed, using jokes and music to try and lift my spirits. But I just wanted to sleep.

Last night, I heard a furious, tormented cry and then footsteps running down the hallway. Anstice told me this morning it was Ryker. The bomb inside him had finally detonated. They tried to reach Waleron to put Ryker in a deep sleep, but he was AWOL. Supposedly, Keir, Hack, and Jedrik had to use force to get Ryker contained in a room down in the sub-basement . . . whatever that meant.

An abrupt knock sounded. I tightened the covers around me and rolled over. The door swung open.

"Get the fuck up."

Kilter.

He walked across the room and yanked the drapes open. The afternoon sun spilled in and I pulled the covers over my head. Damn it, why wouldn't they leave me alone?

"Get the fuck up and stop being so selfish." Kilter jerked the blankets off the bed, and I squealed, diving for them. He marched over to the window, opened it, and tossed them outside.

He didn't stop there. Kilter stormed into the bathroom and I heard the shower turn on. When he came out and headed straight for me, I panicked and scrambled to the opposite side of the bed.

He stopped and crossed his arms. "We have work to do. Get showered, pull your shit together, and meet me in the study in ten minutes." He glanced at his watch. "Make that nine. You just wasted one minute."

"Get out! Who the hell do you think you are? I can lie in bed for the rest of my life if I feel like it. I hate you. And if Balen were here, he'd kick your ass."

Kilter's brows rose. "But he's not, is he? He's gone and he's probably never coming back." I threw my pillow at his head and he caught it, tossed it aside, and approached the bed. "Deal with it. This crap you're pulling is over. Your training will begin ASAP."

"I've thought about it and decided I don't want to. I'll go home in a few days and get back to my gallery. Better yet, I'll just go home now." I grabbed my bathrobe from the floor and pulled it on. "Piss off, Kilter."

I screamed as he grabbed me around the waist and threw me over his shoulder. I kicked and shouted and punched him in the back several times before he managed to get me into the bathroom. Without hesitating, he dumped me under the warm spray of the water.

"Balen would be disappointed in you," Kilter said. "He respected you and was proud of the chick you were." He pulled the soaking wet bathrobe from my shoulders and threw it into the sink. "You're a Scar now. And you _will_ train. You'll fuckin' learn to harness your abilities. And you'll start in," he glanced at his watch, "seven minutes."

I stood under the spray; pajamas soaked, hair dripping wet, and my body ready to crumble into a million pieces. "I don't know how," I mumbled under my breath. My body shivered despite the heat of the water.

I closed my eyes and tears mixed with the water. At least, Kilter wouldn't know I was crying. I really couldn't put up with one more crass remark from him.

"Fight," Kilter said. "You're a fighter, yet for some reason you aren't fighting for this guy you love." He reached over and passed me the shampoo. I took it. "Fight for what you want." He shrugged. "Who knows, maybe you can appeal the Deaconry's decision. Did you even think of that? Or were you too busy feeling sorry for yourself?" He stepped back, yanked the shower curtain closed, and strode out of the bathroom. I heard him yell, "Six minutes," before my bedroom door slammed.

I STIFFENED WHEN I heard the soft voice behind me. I slowly turned and saw her pale white skin flush when I met her eyes. She shifted her feet, her blue silk gown swaying with the slightest movement.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"For you to understand," Genevieve said.

"So I can forgive you?" I laughed. "Forgiveness will never pass these lips. Live with it. Now get the hell away from me."

She ignored me, brave bitch. "You gave everything for her. Your oath. Your pride. Your heart. Your life as you knew it. Why?"

I remained silent, pacing the marble cell back and forth, the gold bands rubbing my wrists as I moved.

"I felt it, you know," Genevieve said. "The connection, the pain, the horror in your veins when Ryszard hurt—"

"Don't you fuckin' dare talk about that shit."

Genevieve lowered her head. "You love her. A love so great I can feel it within every inch of me. It haunted me for two years, feeling your grief, feeling you fighting the evil inside that tried to claim you. But it didn't win. And you know why? Why everyone else has failed and why you did not? Because you knew that one day, if you destroyed the tainted blood, one day you'd be able to come back and see her again."

I placed my palms up against the wall and leaned my forehead on the cool smooth surface.

"Without the Bonding spell, you would've accepted the Deaconry's decision and been sent to Rest. She would've remained human and grown old, without you. Now she is a rare Reflector and—"

"And all for goddamn nothing," I finished pushing away from the wall and facing her again.

"No." Genevieve raised her voice, "She's immortal now. In time, it will work out."

"Time?" I scoffed. "Our time is over, Genevieve. Die, sent to Rest, exile, it doesn't matter anymore."

"Bullshit," Genevieve cursed. "You fought for her. Don't you dare give up now."

"I'm about to die, Genevieve. Give me a fuckin' break."

Genevieve sighed and lowered her head. "I thought more of you, Balen. I believed in you. I guess I was wrong."

Her gown swished and the mist rose as she faded from my marble cell. I slammed my fist into the floor. "Fuck!"

"GODDAMN IT, WOMAN. PICTURE it, for Christ's sake. I have better things to do with my time." Kilter leaned up against the tree.

"I am."

"Typical woman. Can't do shit." Kilter scowled, shaking his head.

"Oh, screw off." I picked up a rock and threw it at him. He ducked and it went over his head. I closed my eyes again and clenched my fists, my mouth scrunching together with concentration.

"You're trying too hard."

Relax. Concentrate. Picture. Feel.

But all I envisioned was Balen. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there in my mind with his sharp green eyes. I threw my hands in the air. "Forget it. I can't do it."

Kilter pushed away from the tree, the moonlight flickering in his dark eyes. "You're right. You can't."

I sat in the snow.

Kilter approached and leaned over me. "Telekinesis requires focus, something you obviously lack. Give me your knife."

Bastard.

Kilter held out his hand. "I know you don't go anywhere without it."

I pulled the knife from my back pocket and held it in my grasp, my fingers caressing the handle where Balen's name was etched. Kilter yanked it from me and, before I could object, he sliced the sharp blade across the back of my hand.

I gasped, pulling back and holding my hand over the wound. "Psychotic dickhead. What the hell was that for?"

Kilter raised his hand with the knife and then flung it across the yard at full throttle. It sank deep into the middle of the trunk of a pine tree. "Because Waleron has made my life hell by forcing me to help you. I want to end the hell as soon as possible. Pain—that's reality. Now you can concentrate on what we're doing instead of some fantasy you're stuck in."

I looked at the blood dripping down my hand. It was a surface wound, but it still hurt.

Kilter waited patiently and, for once in his life, with no crass remark. I needed to do this. For Balen. For myself. For us.

"I just want it known that I don't like you."

"Ditto," Kilter said. "Now, get the knife out of the tree, so I can get out of this fuckin' cold."

After four days of putting up with his thoughtless remarks, I'd grown a thick skin when it came to his insensitivity. Crude, controlling, dominant, and downright rude, Kilter had put himself on my shit list. However, he knew how to push me to get things done, and learning how to deal with my new abilities was tough and sometimes frustrating as hell. Getting Balen off my mind was unlikely and Kilter knew it.

It pissed me off that this guy knew how to get through to me. He was the only one who managed to get me out of bed and stop wallowing in self-pity. He'd been the one to get me to face reality. He made me fight back.

In an odd sort of sadistic way, Kilter had saved my sorry ass from self-destruction. I hadn't needed kindness and soft words and hugs and tears. I needed cruel, hard words and that was Kilter's specialty.

I focused on the knife stuck in the trunk of the tree. The cold winter breeze drifted through my hair but I hardly felt it. The wound on my hand throbbed a dull aching pain, reminding me this was real. This was now, and if it was the last thing I'd do, that damn knife was going to move.

He told me to make my imagination reality. Anything was possible, especially if you were a Scar. And that meant Balen could come back to me. Maybe if I worked hard enough, perfected my skills, then I could do something to help him.

"Stop fuckin' thinking about him and concentrate," Kilter growled.

I scrunched my nose up at him. The guy had no qualms about reading anyone's mind, and I couldn't wait until I was able to block him.

I focused. The knife moved. It jiggled. I saw it happening. I pushed harder until I was sweating under my thick winter coat. I could do this. It would happen if I let it.

The knife jolted then fell to the ground, its steel blade glittering on the hard-packed layers of snow.

"That was half assed," Kilter said, but there was a hint of a smile. "Enough for today. Tomorrow we go to the mall."

"What? Why the mall? Are we shopping for duct tape for your mouth? Because I'd love to do the honors."

He made a half-grunt, half-hiss. "It's Saturday. You'll learn to harness the thoughts of crowds of people." He started to walk back to the house.

Oh, that sucked. The others had been careful about blocking their thoughts while living in the house, but on occasion, I became bombarded by thoughts from people driving by. Figures, Kilter didn't want to take baby steps. Instead, he was throwing me into a cesspit of thoughts. At least, I'd learn a hell of a lot faster.

Waleron had yet to make any appearance in the week since Balen had been gone. No one knew what was going on with him. For all I knew, he was already in Rest.

"Hey Off-kilter." He hated my nickname, which made it all the more sweet when I used it. He didn't turn, but he stopped with one hand on the doorknob. "One day, you're going to fall in love."

"You have to give a shit about people to do that. I don't." He threw open the massive arched door and walked inside.

I fell back into the snow and stared up at the full moon. I was surprised when I heard Kilter in my head. Would the guy ever give me a moment's peace? Probably forgot to tell me to mind my own goddamn business.

" _Changing into one of us took guts. Whether you did it to save your life or not, Waleron believed in you. He would have never risked us going against the Wraiths otherwise. All you have to do is believe in yourself. Now get inside before you freeze to death and Waleron comes after my ass for allowing it."_

I was taken aback by his words and had no response. Not that he expected one. Nothing kind ever came out of that man's mouth. He was right though. I had trouble believing in myself, had all my life. I quit everything before I had the chance to fail it, never once thinking that I'd conquer and succeed. It was better saying you quit rather than you failed. At least, that was what I always believed.

My relationships said it all; end it before they can end it with you so you don't get hurt. The relationships never failed, because I quit them before they started. But it was too late for that. I loved Balen. I wanted him in my life. I'd believed that what we shared would last, that it wouldn't fail.

And if it did fail?

Yeah, it would hurt like hell, but wasn't I already hurting? Maybe we wouldn't have a second chance, but if we did, I sure as hell was going to fight for us.

A snowflake fell on the tip of my nose then melted. The moisture soaked into my skin and I closed my eyes as more fell from the sky. I pictured him in my mind, those green eyes watching me, his hands on my skin, his lips hard against mine. I sighed, my body relaxing into the snow, sinking further and further into a trance of sensations. I imagined his breath was a feather sweeping across my neck, his fingers cupping my chin, thumb stroking the cleft, so soft and comforting.

" _Balen, I love you. I'm fighting for us, baby."_

I JOLTED OUT OF sleep. Her voice. I heard her voice. She spoke to me. I ran my hand through my hair. That's impossible; no Scar could reach me in the realm telepathically. Shit, not even Waleron had that ability. It had to have been a dream.

" _I love you. I'm fighting for us, baby."_

My breath left my lungs as her voice seeped into my mind like a mist. Danni? _"Danni?"_ Nothing. I came to my feet and waited. Paced and waited some more. Hoping I'd hear her again. Nothing.

I stiffened as Waleron Traced into my marble cell. Christ, the guy looked like shit. That didn't speak well for me.

"A decision has been made. You'll stand before the Deaconry."

The south wall of the room disintegrated into tiny particles of water then evaporated. I stood in front of an elaborate fountain facing the Deaconry members all sitting around an oblong marble table.

Waleron took his seat beside Zurina and I nodded to her. I'd met her a few times and liked the Taldeburu. She'd been a good friend of Waleron's mother and was one of the original Scars.

Edan, the cocky bastard who had placed me in this hell, was the only one who looked relaxed, leaning back in his chair. The rest of the Wraiths appeared tired and short-tempered. I met Genevieve's eyes and she quickly averted her gaze. Fuck. That wasn't good.

Tor spoke. "Balen, you defied the punishment of Rest. You also had others assist in your escape." He paused. "Defying a sentence is punishable by death. However," he paused again. "It came to our attention that a Bonding spell had been placed on you and a human. If you had been sent to Rest, this human would've died. Is this true?"

I nodded.

"And the Bond has been broken?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Genevieve will answer to the Goddess Azzurra for her part in this. I must say, Genevieve fought valiantly for you, along with your Taldeburus. I believe she would've had us here for years if we didn't consent to her wishes." His lips curved up at the corner. "You can thank her that you'll live. Understand that we must obey the laws the Scars and Wraiths inscribed in order for the balance of nature.

"You've been found guilty. We have waived the incident of defying the sentence due to the circumstances that were beyond your control. However, you will be accountable for the past. The sentence stands. You will be sent to Rest." I saw Waleron's brows lower and Zurina closed her eyes. Genevieve refused to look at me. "Ten years. No exile." The sound of my sentence pounded in my ears. "Have you anything to say?" I was about to say yes when a voice came from behind me.

"I do." All eyes turned to the far end of the room. I heard both Edan and Waleron curse under their breath as soft footfalls come toward me. I was as shocked as the rest of them to see Delara.

"Delara, you have no right to be in the realm," Urtzi thundered, his fist slamming down on the marble table. "Who is responsible for this?"

"I'm here on behalf of Anstice the Healer, sister to Balen. As it was impossible for her to enter the realm without a Wraith or Taldeburu, I'm speaking as her voice and my own. We, the Toronto Talde, defend Balen, a man who risked his life by drinking vampire blood in order to save a woman from certain slavery to a vampire."

Edan's chair scraped across the floor as he stood. "Delara," he shouted.

She ignored him and continued. "It's our law to protect one another. But what if we're given no option but to decide who to protect? An ultimatum. One or the other. Who decides? Who is more worthy? Is a Scar more worthy than a human? And if so, why?" Delara hesitated, her gaze shifting to each one of them. "Balen took the risk. He saved a woman who was being tortured. He sacrificed himself. Drank Ryszard's blood in order to save her life. If he hadn't, she would have become a slave. A fate worse than death. The Goddess Azzurra made us to protect humans, and Balen did that."

"And he led an enemy to the Healer's location. His own fucking sister," Edan refuted.

"Yes. A risk. But it paid off. It wasn't betrayal. He took a gamble, but there was no malice in what he did. It was a sacrifice. And you're all making him pay for that sacrifice by punishing him."

"Delara," Edan warned. "Return to my room. Now."

I jolted. What the hell? Edan and Delara?

I noticed Waleron flinch, but he remained seated. The guy looked ready to ignite into a fireball. And he was made of ice.

"Who brought this Scar to the realm?" Urtzi repeated.

"Oh, I think that's fairly obvious," Mariana said with a smile and then licked her tongue across her lower lip.

"You hide here in your fantasyland realm and dare to make judgment on him?" Delara shot at them, hands on her hips.

"Ah, shit." I immediately went on alert for a fight. We'd have no chance against the Wraiths in their realm, but after that speech, I'd fight to protect her ass.

Edan's hand on the table clenched into a fist. "Delara, leave."

I felt her tremble beside me.

"Just because I sleep with you doesn't mean you can order me around," Delara said in a calm, cool voice.

A low murmur of voices and tension erupted amongst the Wraiths. Edan went beet red and came out from behind the table.

Waleron stood.

"Let her finish," Tor said. "Edan, sit."

Mariana spoke, looking at Edan. "I hope she was worth it. Cause you just got played."

"Shut up, Mariana." Edan returned to his seat, his eyes like flames of fire ready to burst the room into an inferno.

Waleron sat.

The friction in the room was thick. Powers were heightening and the fountain bubbled, and the ground shifted beneath our feet. All it would take was one power to surface and a war would erupt.

Delara avoided looking at Edan as she continued. "This matter should've never been brought here. I believe the Deaconry is to decide matters when a Scar has broken a law or has killed or harmed an innocent. Balen killed no one nor did a Scar die. Anstice is alive and well. Danni is as well. Who are you sentencing Balen for?"

"He broke his oath. He assisted a vampire," Urtzi said.

"No," Delara said. "He gave Ryszard information as to where Anstice was hiding. A simple plan to lure him into a trap. It led to Ryszard's demise. If he hadn't taken the chance, then we would be still chasing that bastard." She shrugged. "Balen managed to do the impossible. He saved Danni, Anstice, and trapped Ryszard so the other Scars could kill the bastard. In actuality, he saved the day. Oh, and Danni also says that if Balen doesn't return ASAP, she's starting a rebellion. And just so you know, that girl is the strongest telepath there is, so she can reach Scars everywhere." Delara smiled and cocked her hip. "I told her to start with Jasper."

My gaze darted to Delara and she smiled.

Silence.

I'd never had someone stand up for me as Delara had just done on behalf of herself, my sister, and Danni. Delara risked a lot by pissing off the fire Wraith. She had nothing to gain from this. So why do it?

Zurina spoke in her usual calm, soothing voice. "Delara has made valid points, all of which should be taken into consideration. Technically, Balen didn't harm anyone. Therefore, his case should never have been brought to the Deaconry."

Genevieve's eyes glowed golden as she chewed her lower lip, obviously to keep from smiling.

Edan slammed his fist onto the table. "Bullshit. He drank vampire blood. That's enough to send him to Rest."

Delara glared at him. "You promised."

Edan sneered. "Yeah, that went to shit the moment you walked in here, sweetheart."

"Was this your so-called plan?" Mariana asked me, raising her brows. "Were you setting a trap for Ryszard all along?"

Delara kicked me in the side of the calf when I hesitated.

I glanced at Waleron, who gave a diminutive nod.

"Yes," I replied.

Tor nodded his approval then looked at Waleron. "Your Scar, despite her uninvited entrance, has made compelling points. Balen has proven his loyalty with the issue with Ryker and, since his case is rather unusual . . ." He hesitated, looking to each of the Wraiths before receiving a nod from each of them except Edan. He continued, "If you wish to take this matter into your own hands, I don't believe you will have any objection from the rest of the Deaconry. Besides, a rebellion with three Scar women is not something any of us want."

Waleron bowed his head. "Of course. And I request a change to the law. Balen has proven that vampire blood can be defeated once consumed. We must acknowledge this and make the appropriate amendment."

Tor nodded. "Agreed. The matter will be rectified at a later date." Tor looked at me. "We discharge you to Waleron, Taldeburu of the Scars." Tor looked at Genevieve and she raised her hands toward the fountain.

I noticed a hint of a smile on Tor's face as he eyed Delara, and then, to my surprise, the Wraith winked at her before he vanished into red particles of dust.

Mariana and Urtzi followed suit, disappearing in their own fashions. Genevieve came around the side of the long table and her eyes met mine. "Fate has spoken. Don't fuck it up." She smiled and then disappeared in a swirl of mist.

"Delara." Edan strode toward her. "Let's go."

Waleron stood, his eyes narrowing on Edan. Something bad was going to go down.

"Delara," Edan repeated.

"I'm not coming back, Edan," she said. "I'm sorry."

"What?" Edan's entire body began to heat up and his hands turned red, his eyes orange. "You used me? You used me to get into the Deaconry to save . . . to save this asshole?"

Delara shifted back a step. "It didn't start out that way. I care for you, Edan, but I can't do as you've asked of me. You gave me an ultimatum—I'm choosing to walk away."

"You're a damn whore," Edan shouted.

Waleron's snake tattoo on his neck slithered across his skin. He took a step toward Edan, but Zurina placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered something to him.

It was obvious Delara had intended to leave the Wraith much sooner. Edan had inadvertently given her the playing card to access the realm and the Deaconry.

Edan turned to Waleron. "That appeal you want for Tarek to remain in Rest? Consider it void. You will never get it for as long as I'm on the Deaconry." He burst into a fireball and disappeared.

Delara's shoulders slumped and her eyes closed. I reached forward and took her hand in mine. "I . . . fuck, Delara, I don't know what to say. Thank you just isn't enough." I waited until she raised her eyes to mine. "Why?" I asked.

She sighed and squeezed my hand. "I understand what she went through. You watched. You knew drinking Ryszard's blood would turn you into something evil and that you'd be killed for it. You knew giving Anstice's location was a risk to her life. To think of the pain you've lived with having to make that decision . . ." She straightened her shoulders. "This is why we're Scars. To protect the innocent. To sacrifice ourselves for one another. That is our nature. That . . . is our salvation." She looked at Zurina. "Will you take me back?"

"Of course." Zurina came out from behind the table, held out her hand and Delara took it.

"Delara," Waleron said. "We need to talk."

Delara raised her chin. "I did exactly what you've done numerous times." She nodded to Zurina and they Traced from sight.

I stood, still in shock at what went down. My emotions were whirling like a tornado—gratitude, hope, and finally, I felt relief. I'd known that I'd have made the same choice if given a chance to do it again, and I'd assumed they all thought I'd betrayed them, especially Anstice. Delara believed in me, trusted I'd made the right decision and stuck by me. Most of all, my sister had believed in me. I realized they'd all believed in me. I just hadn't believed in myself.

I RAN ACROSS THE snow-covered lawn after Anstice's dog, Finn. The bugger had grabbed my leather gloves out of my hand when I'd opened the front door. I was finally going home and the big black furball was playing games.

"Get back here, you big tub of lard. I swear, if you drool all over those, I'll . . . I'll . . ." Okay, nothing, but he didn't need to know that. "I'll stop slipping you leftovers under the table."

Finn loped across the snow, shaking the gloves as if they were a fresh kill, and then, suddenly, he stopped, his muzzle in the air. He dropped the gloves and lowered his neck, skulking back to the house. I didn't know what made the dog suddenly play the sympathy card, but I was glad when I no longer had to run through the mid-calf-deep snow after him.

I picked up the gloves and began walking to my car. The breeze drifted across my face, and I stood for a second, soaking in the sweet scents that I was now able to pick up on. The pine trees, the hint of Finn, the wetness of the millions of crystals of snow, and something else. The familiar scent of earth, of . . .

Oh, God.

The gloves slipped from my hand, forgotten.

My breath hitched and my heart slammed into my rib cage.

Blood rushed like a raging river though my veins.

Was it my imagination? Could it be real? _Please, let it be real._

I stood in the middle of the yard. The moon danced off the white snow, reflecting a blue glow. I closed my eyes and a sob escaped as the wondrous earth smell drew closer. Stronger. And then I knew.

Footsteps crunched in the snow behind me.

Steady.

Familiar.

I couldn't move. I couldn't look, because I was so afraid it was a dream and my hopes would die.

But then . . .

Then his arms wrapped around me from behind and I choked on the cry slipping from my throat. He pulled me back up against his chest, his cheek next to mine.

Tear streamed down my cheeks like rain on a window pane. Every shred of strength evaporating as his touch sent my control over the edge.

"Little one," he whispered in my ear.

"Balen." I collapsed to my knees and he went with me, his arms still holding me to him.

He'd returned. He held me in his arms. He was here.

"Danni," he murmured into my ear, causing a sprinkle of shivers to spark over my skin.

He slowly turned me so I faced him. He cupped my chin and tilted my head up and I met his brilliant green eyes. He stole my breath away.

His thumb wiped my tears with a tender caress, and then he leaned forward and placed a light kiss on my quivering lips.

That was all I needed.

I crumbled into his arms, burying my head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. He stroked my hair, his fingers entwined in the strands, holding me to him.

He rocked me back and forth. "Fuck, I missed you."

I pulled back so I could look at him. I needed to see him, make certain he was real. I reached up and ran my fingers down the side of his face. I'd memorized every detail, knew every crevice, every texture, every angle. But to touch him, feel him beneath the pads of my fingers . . . it was salvation.

"Tell me you're here to stay. Please," I whispered, my breath hesitating as I waited for his answer.

The flash of his grin was all I needed. "No one gets to be with you but me, little one. Told you that." His mouth crushed mine and we fell back into the snow.

To: Quill@Scar.com

From: Kilter@Scar.com

Meet you at the compound in five days. Midnight. Don't be late, asshole.

Glossary of Terms

**Center World Other (CWO)** : For thousands of years, numerous organisms that survived the Ice Age remained hidden until a hundred years ago when they emerged to the Earth's surface in the form of insects. Intelligent. Can inhabit a recently deceased human body, possessing them body and soul. Transformation occurs within seven days, depending on the species. Immune to Wraiths' powers. Protected by heat and minerals from the Earth's core.

**Deaconry, the** : Assembly comprised of four Wraiths, two Scars, and one witch. Decide laws and punishments for all who live under the Goddess Azzurra.

**Deep Sleep (DS)** : A state of sleep which one can be contained for short periods.

**Grits (CWO)** : Derived from the common cockroach. Odorless. Difficult to track. Able to heal within seconds. Means of destruction: decapitation.

Assumes the bodies of attractive males with a strong presence. Will lure women to bed with the intent of siphoning the air from their lungs to live longer in their human states.

**Goddess Azzurra** : Goddess of the realm. Created the Scars and Wraiths. Also is the Goddess of Witches.

**Ink** : A tattoo on a Scar that can be called to life.

**Lilac (CWO)** : Lepidoptera order of insects. Assume the bodies of females. Known to be strikingly beautiful to lure their targets. Their skin emits a powdered substance that smells of lilacs. Able to trap prey in webbing. Victims are stored in cocoons which are later used as sustenance.

**Long Necks (CWO)** : Derived from the common beetle. Known as followers. Have unusually long necks. Characterized by bad acne, substantial bulk, and foul odors compared to rotten garbage.

**Maite** : Husband or wife of a Scar

**Pests (CWO)** : Derived from the common mosquito. Spawn from swamp, or marsh-like areas near gravesites. Emit a buzzing only Sounders can detect. Possess excellent eyesight. Skin emits an itching agent.

**Realm, the** : An otherworldly dominion where the Wraiths reside and Deaconry convenes.

**Rest** : A coma-like state of mind a Scar is placed when punished. Length of rest determined by the Deaconry.

**Scars** : Immortal warriors with capabilities derived from the senses: Trackers, Sounders, Healers, Tasters, Visionaries, and the rare Reflectors.

Evolved in 1610 in Zugarramurdi, Spain during the Spanish Inquisition. In order to combat the devastation of the masses, five witches swore fealty to the Goddess Azzurra. In exchange, she granted them immortality, unique abilities of the senses, and an Ink that could be called forth for protection.

**Scar Healers** : Females with the capability to heal other Scars and humans. In rare instances, capable of healing animals and other entities. Able to envision the injury and heal the wound from the inside out. Experiences the pain of the injury.

**Scar Reflectors** : Possess a strong empathy toward emotions. Can alter emotions of others.' Characterized with stronger telepathic abilities.

**Scar Sounders** : Able to detect high frequencies from long distances.

**Scar Tasters** : Able to detect others' emotion by a distinct change in molecules in the air which affects taste.

**Scar Trackers** : Posses the ability to track shed skin cells.

**Scar Visionaries** : Able to see through certain objects. Some are able to read in hyper-speed or burn through objects.

**Sublymns** : Children living in the Realm who have died horrible deaths on Earth.

**Talde** : Group of Scars, similar to a covenant.

**Taldeburu** : Leader of a Talde of Scars.

**Tracing** : Ability to teleport to a past location.

**Wraiths** : Four witches, who had been burned at the stake, were offered a reprieve by the Goddess Azzurra. Each spirit was resurrected as a Wraith with the power of one of the four elements—Earth, Water, Fire, and Air.

Live in the Realm, but may walk the Earth for short periods of time.

CHAPTER ONE SNEAK PEEK

I SAT ON THE cold cement floor of the bathroom, knees to my chest, arms tight around them as I waited for the door to open.

Booted steps strode through my adjoining bedroom toward me.

Closer. Louder.

Goose bumps scattered. My body trembled as raw fear gripped me. It was like I was hanging off the side of a cliff by my fingernails, knowing I'd eventually fall and the pain would come.

Unbearable pain.

He'd come. My husband or whoever he'd sent to get me.

There was no escape. No where to run.

The heavy thuds stopped outside the bathroom door, and I glimpsed the tall, dark shadow that filtered through the two-inch gape.

I put my chin on my knee and closed my eyes, afraid to look. If I didn't look, then no one was here. My breath came in short, sharp, quiet gasps and I dug my fingers into the sides of my thighs so hard, blood trickled down my skin through my pants.

For almost a month, I'd expected this day to come, stomach churning every time I heard someone in the corridor outside my bedroom. Living in a black hole, I was desperate to get out, but knew the day I did, it was to face punishment for helping the Scars escape the compound.

The door pushed open with what sounded like a kick of a boot.

Tears pooled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I squeezed my eyes shut harder as fear drilled into me like tiny darts piercing my skin.

Another step.

Then another.

Then nothing.

Please don't let it be Ben. Anyone but Ben.

"Fuck, babe. What the hell?"

My breath hitched at the sound of the familiar, deep voice. A voice I'd never forget. A voice that gave me hope then snatched it away with his lies.

I raised my head and locked eyes on the Scar I'd helped escape.

Well, more like he used me in order to help him and his friend escape.

He was also the man who had haunted my dreams for weeks since then. And they were haunting because he was scary. Not ugly scary, far from it, but intense scary.

He had a chiseled jaw with a few days of scruff and defined cheekbones. His look was old-world, which made sense since the Scars were immortal, but he definitely wasn't an old-world English gentleman. More like a Highland Scot.

A long, jagged scar dragged from his right brow to his ear and another across his neck, which attributed to the scary factor. But that wasn't what did it—that gave him character, it gave him a story.

It was his eyes that really intimidated, black and cold without a hint of compassion. And after spending a night in an air duct with him, I knew, compassion was not part of his disposition.

Actually, he'd been an asshole and didn't try to hide it.

"Get up."

I didn't move.

I didn't know what to do. He'd used me before, so I guessed he was here to use me again, although the reason was unclear because my husband didn't have any Scars in his compound for this guy to break out.

"Babe, don't have time for this shit. Get the fuck up." He didn't wait for me to get up, but bent, grabbed my forearm, and hauled me to my feet with a rough yank. I landed against him, my palms on his chest.

I quickly shoved back, but his hand remained locked on my forearm, and he didn't allow me further than arm's length. Staring, he performed a quick assessment, his dark eyes narrowing and trailing down the front of me.

"You look like shit. Worse, actually." With the calloused pad of his thumb, he haphazardly wiped the tears from my cheeks.

I had no response. I was confused as to why he was here and how he managed to get into the basement and find me without the alarms blaring.

He cupped my chin. "You hurt?"

Not really, but I was an emotional wreck. Did that count?

"You need to answer me when I ask you a question."

He was right, I did, and not because he told me to, but because there was a sliver of hope. I always had it. Most of the time, it was buried deep, but when my eyes hit the Scar... it surfaced whether I wanted it to or not.

So, that hope was him, and pissing him off was going to kill it.

"No," I said. He frowned. "I'm not hurt." Then I had a moment of bravery that came with the hope. "Ummm, why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

Not really. But the answer wasn't important, because he'd lied to me before, so no matter what he said, it was highly probable it was complete bullshit. And so was my hope.

His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed; yet his hand on my chin was soft and gentle. "Do I need to fuckin' carry you?"

What was he talking about? "Carry me? Carry me where?"

His lips pursed together as he glared at me with black, unforgiving eyes. "Listen, babe, I don't feel like becoming some guy's lab rat, so I need you to pull your shit together, answer my questions, stop asking them, and maybe we'll get out of here alive."

Get out of here? The hope plowed back into me, but I was afraid to grab onto it because I didn't dare believe the Scar had come back to get me out of here. Why would he?

But there was something different in him than three weeks ago. Maybe it was the way he gently wiped my tears away or how he held me right now, his fingers no longer bruising, but holding me steady as if he knew I needed the support.

He was tall, probably six foot two, and I'd noticed when I was against his chest that my head tucked under his chin. I also noticed, beneath his black T-shirt, he was rock-hard with ridges and valleys of muscles.

His hand moved to the back of my neck. It wasn't exactly gentle, but more like he was attempting to get my attention. He already had it, but I was still confused.

"You want to get out of this pisshole? 'Cause if you don't, tell me now so I can leave you here and get the fuck out."

I tried to lower my head, but his grip on the back of my neck tightened and I was forced to meet his eyes. "I hate him." Why did I say that? I mean, I did, but he didn't ask me that.

His brows drew together and his grip on my neck tightened. "Yeah, I got that, babe."

Logically, I should be terrified of him, yet I wasn't. It was more nervousness than anything.

There was a hint of something I recognized in his eyes that was oddly comforting. And I recognized it because it was the same look I saw in myself; the haunting tornado of emotions trapped behind a wall.

Our walls were very different, though. His wall was a shield of anger. Mine was a shield of numbness.

He let me go, eyes scanning the bathroom before grabbing my sweatshirt hanging on a hook on the wall. "Arms up." I did and he pulled it over my head. "It's cold and you don't have an ounce of fat on you," he said while his gaze traveled the length of my body. "Jesus, you look like you'll break in a gust of wind." He swore beneath his breath and shook his head. "You good to run?"

My legs felt like uncooked spaghetti ready to crack in half at the slightest push and my heart beat erratically, having to work hard to keep my body functioning. I was falling apart, so probably the truth would be a hell no, but I nodded anyway.

He hesitated then nodded, as if satisfied that, regardless of my lie, he thought I'd be able to at least keep up.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me from the bathroom, through the bedroom, to the door.

He pulled a knife from a leather sheath at his hip and opened the door, peering out before looking back at me. "Keep close. Lag behind and I'm not coming back for you. Understand?"

I nodded.

I didn't trust him, but I did know he would leave me because he'd done it before.

The fight inside me had died years ago, as had the ability to trust anyone. I had trusted. I had fought. Neither had done me any good. So now I trusted myself, and that meant killing parts of who I was.

It meant protecting me.

Burying me.

"Babe?"

I snapped my eyes to his. For a second, I thought his eyes softened, but it was more wishful thinking on my part. He was probably thinking he'd just made the stupidest mistake of his life by coming back here. Escaping my husband's compound twice had a high probability of failure.

His fingers curled around my fragile hand, squeezed, then tugged me forward. "Let's get the fuck out of this shithole."

We ran down the sterile hallways, hesitating at intersecting corridors so he could watch the security cameras up in the corners until they rotated in the opposite direction.

I had no idea how he expected to get out of here without being caught. Taking the elevator was out of the question as it was a deathtrap on cables, and the south stairs led into the main living quarters.

But he'd done his homework because breaking into the sub-basement was no easy task, and I was still uncertain how he got past the code boxes on the doors.

He stopped and I collided with his hard, broad back. He let go of my hand and turned, his knife held toward me.

My eyes went from him to the knife then back again. "Ah, yeah?"

He grabbed my wrist and slapped the hilt into my palm, curling my fingers around it. "Use it. And don't fuckin' hesitate. Go for the jugular." He pointed to the faint scar across his throat.

My eyes flickered to the thin, raised line. I couldn't imagine anyone getting close enough to this guy to be able to cut his throat. And whoever had, I imagined was no longer alive.

"I, ah..." God, the thought of cutting someone made my stomach lurch. Could I end a life? I'd done it once before and swore never to do it again, but it also hadn't been with a knife. I glanced down at the blade stained with blood.

But if it meant escape? Freedom from my sick husband? Could I do it? I dragged my eyes back to his and nodded.

"Hey." He cupped my chin, his chest inches from mine. "Don't think about it. It's you or them."

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Okay." I could do this. I had to.

"This isn't going to be pretty."

"I know." And I did. Nothing was pretty about this place.

He gave an abrupt nod then pulled a gun from the back of his jeans. He opened the door to the stairwell and waited a few seconds, head tilted, listening.

He nodded to the camera up in the corner, which slowly turned in our direction. "Hits us in five seconds. No way to avoid it. When it does, all hell is going to break loose. We haul ass. Don't stop no matter what you hear or see. When we get outside, run like hell to the north wall—on the far right of the gate—someone will be there to help you."

Climbing over the stone wall surrounding this place was impossible. I knew from experience. Even with a rope to haul me up the twelve feet, it would take too long, considering Anton's _special_ guards would be hunting us like dogs.

He glanced up at the camera again before shoving me ahead of him. "Go!"

I ran as fast as I could up the stairs. My legs shook, knees wobbled, and my lungs cried for more oxygen as the panic ate it up.

I tripped on a stair and began to fall forward when his hand grabbed my elbow. His momentum kept us going as he half-dragged me up the stairs.

One flight.

Two flights.

Ground floor.

A piercing alarm sounded.

We stopped at the locked door leading into the hallway, which led outside. There was running and shouts below us in the stairwell. I knew the protocol; the place would go into lockdown and we'd never escape.

"I don't have the code to unlock the door," I said. Anton had changed them after the Scars escaped, and this time, he hadn't given them to me. All the doors leading onto the ground floor were locked.

"Figured that. This doesn't always work with security systems, but it did on your cell."

He called my bedroom a cell.

Cold, sterile, and with nothing personal. Since I was ten years old, my bedroom had been four white walls, a bed, and a bathroom.

Once, one of Anton's men, Roarke, had given me a novel called _Pride and Prejudice_. I'd read it a hundred and fifty-two times and would have again if my husband hadn't found it beneath my mattress.

The Scar let go of my elbow and stood in front of the code box while I pressed my back against the wall, catching my breath.

I held the knife with both hands in front of me.

A door slammed on the floor below.

We had to find another way. There wasn't enough time. "We need to—"

"Babe, shut the fuck up for five seconds." He stood, calm and composed, staring at the code box as if he was thinking about what to do.

I stayed quiet despite the subtle wave of defiance that rose at his harsh words. A defiance that had been crushed until I had nothing left to fight except a shell of existence that had been cracked and chipped at for years.

Who I'd been had been eaten up by my own body, not because it was my choice, but because it had been my survival. Now, I was so far within myself, I couldn't find my way back.

The code box turned a bright orange and smoke billowed around it before it sparked and hissed. My eyes widened as his eyes changed, melting away the black until they were solid gold with a red dot in the center.

What the hell?

Oh, my God. Could Scars do that? How could he do that?

A click sounded and the door unlocked. _Holy shit._

He held out his hand, and I put mine in his. He pulled me through the door, down the hallway, and then pushed me ahead of him.

"Go," he ordered. "Run."

I hesitated as he aimed his gun at the deserted hallway behind us. Suddenly, two men barreled around the corner, and he fired off two shots. Both went down in quick succession.

"Go!"

I whirled around and ran as fast as my quivering legs would go.

The gun went off again and I staggered, putting my hand on the wall while looking over my shoulder for him. He was bent over one of the men he shot, checking for something.

I turned and ran again.

"Babe. Fuck. Stop," he shouted.

The door to my right flung open and a hard body slammed into me, knocking me off my feet. But I didn't fall to the floor because an arm hooked my waist and I was jerked up against a broad chest.

There was heavy breathing next to my ear before my captor grated out, "Sweet Rayne. Where do you think you're going?"

Oh, God, Ben. My husband's right-hand man.

The man who took pleasure in watching me suffer. Who got off on it. I hated him. Maybe more than my husband, because in some demented way, my husband did all this for the purpose of science. It was wrong. It was cruel and I was a product of that, but Ben...he enjoyed hurting others.

And I'd enjoy hurting him.

My grip tightened on the handle of the knife as I jabbed it as hard as I could backward into his thigh. The second it hit flesh, it was like plunging into a sponge. It jerked to a stop when it hit bone and jarred my hand.

"Fuckin' bitch," he screamed, then looped his arm around my neck while his other hand knocked the knife from my grip, yanked the blade from his thigh and tossed it to the floor.

"Let her go, dickhead." The Scar stood several feet away, gun pointed at us.

The cool hard metal of Ben's gun came to my temple. He cocked it. "How about you drop it before I put a bullet through her skull."

The Scar laughed, but it wasn't a good laugh. It was rough with a harsh tone that sent shivers down my spine.

"You won't kill her." His dark brows flicked up and he smirked at Ben. "Her husband will cut off your balls and shove them down your throat if you do. And despite wanting to see that, I'd advise letting her go before I kill her myself." He readjusted his aim from Ben to me. "I live. She dies. Then her husband tortures you. Seems fair enough."

AVAILABLE NOW

### Books by Nashoda Rose

Irish Crown

Tear Asunder Series

With You (free)

Torn from You

Overwhelmed by You

Shattered by You

Kept from You

**Unyielding Series** (A Tear Asunder spin off)

Perfect Chaos

Perfect Ruin

Perfect Rage

Scars of the Wraith Series

Stygian

Tyrant

Credo

Take

What's Coming?

Ardent (Prequel, Scars of the Wraiths)

Edge of You (Tear Asunder)

Vic Gate

www.nashodarose.com

Nashoda Rose is a _New York Times_ and _USA Today_ bestselling author who lives in Toronto with her assortment of pets. She writes contemporary romance with a splash of darkness, or maybe it's a tidal wave.

When she isn't writing, she can be found sitting in a field reading with her dogs at her side while her horses graze nearby. She loves interacting with her readers and chatting about her addiction—books.

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Email: nashodarose@gmail.com

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