

FEVERED SOULS. Copyright © 2013 by S. K. Falls

www.skfalls.com

All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical

events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons,

living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Cormar Covers

Interior Formatting/Design: IceyDesigns

Proofread by: Jacinda Darrell Owens

What's wrong with you, with us,

what's happening to us?

Ah our love is a harsh cord

that binds us wounding us

and if we want

to leave our wound,

to separate,

it makes a new knot for us and condemns us

to drain our blood and burn together.

\- _Love_ , Pablo Neruda

Eden, North Carolina, my hometown. There couldn't be a more perfect version of my own personal hell than if the devil had designed it himself.

I watched the encroaching wall of trees through my cracked windshield, a knot of sadness and anger blocking my throat, inhibiting my ability to swallow.

In spite of my best intentions, I was back, breaking every promise I'd ever made to myself. I couldn't believe I was returning to this place after only four years.

Eden was one of those bucolic, idyllic towns people in the big city imagine when they dream of retiring to the country. Bordered by mountains on one side, flush with greenery and trees and every kind of wildlife, Eden was something out of a fairytale.

I hated it.

Just seeing the cloud-choked winter sky pressing down on me—encasing me in a sphere of gray and green—brought back the old depression, that sense of oppression and helplessness. I tried to suck in a deep breath; a difficult task when the air in my car didn't work and I couldn't roll down my window.

I pulled over at Eden's unofficial scenic overlook and got out to stretch my legs. The overlook was a flat piece of land, just before you got to town proper, which rose up over the valley beneath. The mountainside under me was covered in soft, dense vegetation, like a carpet of green. Across the way, trees and fog clung to the sloping land.

_See? It's not so bad here, Cara,_ I thought desperately. _It'll be a nice break from Chicago's pollution. And Thanksgiving's coming up. It's good to be home for the holidays._ I shakily inhaled the wet, chilly air and let my eyes wander for just another minute. One more minute to collect myself before I was officially and irrevocably Back Home.

When the first freezing drops of rain splashed against my skin, I squared my shoulders and turned to make my way back to the car. But a patch of bloodstained white fur, down a few feet from where I was standing, caught my eye.

Was it an animal in trouble? Had it been hit?

"Hey." I raised my voice over the wind, but it lay there, still, most of its mass sheltered by bushes. I pursed my lips and made a loud kissing sound, but it still didn't move. Sighing, I stepped over the rickety fence toward where it lay. I was fairly good on Eden's hills; I'd grown up playing mountain goat with my dad, the unofficial wild animal rescuer of the town. It was his voice I was hearing now, telling me to check on the animal, just in case there was a chance it was still alive, that it needed help.

Kneeling by the fur, I pushed a large frond out of the way to get a better look. I stared for a long moment, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. "What the...."

Several dozen animals were scattered around in the large clearing past the thick bushes.

The animals—rabbits, deer, raccoons, and gophers, of what I could recognize—had scorch marks all over their bodies, the parts that were still intact. They'd been ripped apart limb from limb, and the thick, choking smell of rotting flesh curled into my nostrils.

When my body caught up to my brain, I stood up and backed away fast, a hand clapped over my gaping mouth. Swallowing deep lungfuls of air, I scrambled over the fence and stumbled to my car, slipping and falling as my mind reeled with what I'd just seen. Who— _what_ —could've done that?

My hands, sweaty and ice cold, shook like crazy as I struggled to lock the door and start the engine. It took me a few seconds to realize that the weird wheezing, groaning sound was coming from _me_.

A thought hurled itself at me, like a brick to the head: _I'm completely alone out here._ Whatever was responsible for the carnage I'd just witnessed might still be here, watching, lurking. I put the car in drive and screeched back out onto the road.

I sped the ten miles into Eden, sliding over rain-slick roads, repeating the mantra "holy shit" over and over under my breath. What the hell had I just seen? What the _hell_ had happened to those animals?

My poor old car complained loudly any time I tried to push her over fifty, but I ruthlessly held steady at forty-nine until I was within town limits. Slowly but surely, I brought my frantic heart back down under control. There had to be a rational explanation for what I'd seen... Right? There _had_ to be. I just needed some time to think rationally about it from a safe distance away.

Besides, my brain was starting to get distracted by other thoughts and feelings. A sense of impending doom began to creep up on me, a nostalgic depression at turning on to the street that led to my mother's house.

When I pulled onto the small gravel road that led up to our one-story house, it was like I'd never left. Even the rusty metal junk my dad used to collect (with a plan to rework and sell them; he was a man of varied, inexplicable hobbies) was still there, piled up next to the rickety wooden shed. The mailbox was still bent courtesy of some drunken teenager.

I parked next to my mom's beat-up minivan and sat in my silent car for a minute, gathering my courage. My heartbeat was getting a little erratic again.

I can't go in that house. I can't. I won't.

I imagined myself as chubby toddler Cara, kicking and screaming in the throes of a monstrous fit, purple in the face, screeching, "I won't go in that house!" That relaxed me a little, and a smile touched my lips. It was my survival strategy of more than a decade: when I couldn't get a grip, I made fun of myself to snap out of it.

I _could_ go in the house, and I would. I didn't live here anymore—this wasn't my life. This was a temporary measure. All I had to do was ace the interview tomorrow so I could earn enough money to go back to Chicago. Or even a city a little closer, if that was what it took. This was temporary. _Temporary_.

I repeated the word to myself as I got out and stretched in the gray drizzle, the angry rain having calmed down in the ten miles I'd driven. Or maybe the storm just hadn't reached us yet. I pulled my hoodie around me and got my suitcase out of the trunk. The rest could wait.

I knocked on the door and stood waiting awkwardly. Even though l had a key, it didn't feel right to just barge in after all this time being away. I hadn't even come home for Christmas these past four years.

Too soon, the door opened and I came face to face with my mother. Her hesitant smile was reflected on my face. We were like acquaintances, forced to say hello after years of not seeing each other.

She was shorter than I remembered, and skinnier, but what my roommate Tessa had called "skinny fat." There was an unhealthy yellow pall about her skin, as if she was very ill, and her brown hair had gone almost completely gray. I remembered a time when it had been the same shade as mine.

But in spite of all those details, it was her blue eyes, so different than my own dark ones, that made my heart clench painfully. If they'd been remote before, they looked completely dead now. There was no color, no life, no essence of her in them at all.

I'd been planning to say something about all those slaughtered animals I'd seen, but the sight of her unseeing eyes pushed those thoughts way back into the recesses of my brain. It was all I could do to stand there, wondering what the hell had happened to my mother.

"Come in," she said softly, stepping aside.

I tried to stop panicking as I followed her in. Looking around the dark, stuffy room, it was pretty clear nothing had changed at all. The old his-and-hers recliners were still there, both now pointed at the TV. On the wall were school pictures of me, marching along from kindergarten through eighth grade.

I glanced at her, but she just stood there, staring at nothing, seemingly lost in thought. When I cleared my throat, she jumped.

"I'll let you get settled," she said, shuffling over to sit in her recliner.

As I walked down the narrow hallway to my room, I heard the TV come on. That sense of depression and captivity sank down on my shoulders again. I'd heard the game show channel incessantly for all the years I'd lived here after Dad had died.

She slept, watched TV, and worked. That was her life. Mine was the mirror-image: I lay awake all night, devoured books, and did schoolwork with a religious fervor. I'd always known getting a scholarship to college would be my way out.

It still would be. It was a promise to myself I intended to keep.

Nothing in my room had changed, as I'd expected. Some of the people in college had talked about how their parents had converted their rooms to offices or gyms the minute they'd moved out. It took everything I had to not snap at them. Normal parents were taken for granted too much.

My mom had made the bed—or just left it made all these years—in my old white and turquoise polka-dotted comforter and pillowcase set. In the corner, my desk was empty, ready for a computer I didn't have. I'd done all my college work at the library or on Tessa's computer when she wasn't using it. My parents had been too poor for a computer when I'd lived at home, and of course, after...the accident, the thought wouldn't even have occurred to Mom. Not that we'd have been able to afford a computer on her waitress salary.

My bookshelf, at least, still held some of the old volumes of my favorite poetry books. I was looking forward to reading them before bed later tonight. I got strength and comfort from those verses, like some people did from the bible.

Lying down on my mattress, I stared at the popcorn ceiling, forcing myself to breathe in and out, in and out. The mini-blinds were closed, but I knew what I'd see if I looked out my window. Our gravel side yard, a rural road, and then nothing but miles and miles and miles of woods with snow-dusted mountains hulking in the distance.

And the animals.

I sat up, the horror of what I'd seen earlier crashing back down on me.

When I walked out to the living room, Mom was still staring at the TV. I sat down on the recliner beside hers—the one that used to be Dad's and was now nothing but a reminder of what we'd lost—my eyes gazing at the screen unseeing. Was she even aware of what she was watching, or did the noise work as an anesthetic?

"Do you have to work today?" I asked at last.

"No." Her eyes never left the screen.

Reaching for the remote, I turned the volume down. She didn't react. "Mom..." I waited for her to look at me. It took about thirty seconds before she finally did. "I saw something on the way in. At the overlook. There were a bunch of, of—dead animals. Looked like they'd been ripped apart and burned."

She stared at me, the look of complete apathy in her eyes unnerving. Finally I said, "I thought I might call the sheriff's office." But even as I finished, I knew it was pointless, me telling her this. I honestly didn't know if she even understood what I was saying.

Reaching out, I took her cold, thin hand. Was I seeing her differently because I'd been away so long? It was so obvious now that my mom wasn't doing so well. She _was_ ill, just like I'd thought when she'd open the door; she didn't just look it. There was something very, very wrong with her.

She continued to stare at me as I looked into her eyes, hoping for just a flicker of _something_. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry I hadn't called or come home for the holidays. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry I'd left angry, that I hadn't really said goodbye. I wanted to tell her I'd left to save myself, but I'd been selfish, and I should've realized that maybe she needed saving too.

But I said none of those things when I released her hand. "You know, living in college, I learned to cook a little. I can make dinner tonight if you want." I tried on a smile.

Her eyes wandered back over to the TV screen and stuck there. "All right."

When dinner was done, I set the table and walked out to the living room. "Mom." She was asleep, her mouth open, her eyeballs moving from side to side as she dreamed. I wondered if she saw my dad. I shook her arm lightly. "Mom, dinner's ready."

She looked at me, dazed, and just for a moment, a genuine smile crossed her lips. "Cara," she muttered hoarsely. "You look like your daddy." When her eyes drifted closed again, I didn't wake her.

I sat at the dining table for twenty minutes, waiting for her to wake up. When thunder began to snarl outside like an angry animal, I decided to hurry and get the boxes from my car.

I looked up as I stepped outside, missing the big skyscrapers and the busy, bustling atmosphere of Chicago already. But the air was much more breathable here, at least. I stretched my arms above my neck as I walked, a few cricks still in my back from having driven twelve hours. My only breaks had been power naps at the side of the road when I'd felt too foggy to be safe.

Another rumble of thunder broke my reverie and had me hurrying to the car.

The gravel crunched under my shoes as I listened to Eden's natural melodies. An owl hooted somewhere deep in the woods, and another owl answered; squirrels scampered through some of the trees. I was leaning into the car, grabbing the box in the rear passenger seat, when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Someone's watching me.

My mouth went dry in an instant; my heart felt like it would rip right out of my chest. My thoughts might've been going a hundred miles an hour, but my body was paralyzed with fear for a good long minute.

When enough adrenaline had coursed into my system that I was able to straighten up slowly and turn around, my frantic eyes swept the road and the darkened woods beyond. But I didn't see anyone.

It was impossible to describe how I knew that I was being watched—absolutely nothing stirred. I tried to shake off the uneasy feeling, marking it down to the scorched, torn-up animals I'd seen earlier. But then it hit me just how preternaturally quiet it was. No more owls hooting, no snick and snap of twigs as creatures roamed the woods. And it had grown perceptibly darker in just the five minutes I'd been out there.

My palms going sweaty, I grabbed the box from the seat along with the interview outfit I'd hung in the back, and slammed the door closed with my hip. I didn't want to give in to my panic, but I couldn't help picking up the pace as I hurried back to the house. I locked the door _and_ turned the deadbolt behind me for the first time in the eighteen years I'd lived here.

Mom was awake and at the table, silently waiting for me with a plate full of food. We ate a cold dinner as rain began to pelt our house.

Insomnia kept me company into the wee hours of the morning. My lullaby for the past four years had been sirens, store alarms, and traffic. Now all I had to listen to was the whooshing of the wind through the trees, the hooting owls, and the occasional barking of some stray dog somewhere. It wasn't nearly enough.

I finally admitted defeat at around three a.m. and turned on my bedside lamp to read some poetry. I knew there'd be hell to pay the next day. My interview was at nine—early for me. At some point, I slipped into an uneasy slumber, my book fallen open on my chest.

When I jolted awake, the sun was streaming in through my blinds. Sitting up, I glanced at my clock. Eight fifteen. I'd slept through my alarm.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I hopped in the shower and back out before I tore around my tiny bedroom, throwing on the interview clothes I'd brought with me: a secondhand pair of designer black silk pants and a nice button-down shirt. And, of course, my lucky pair of shamrock underwear. I wasn't taking any chances.

When I was dressed, I headed out to the living room to grab my car keys. The house was empty; Mom was already at work.

Outside, the clouds scuttled across the slate sky. I hopped in the car and smoothed the sheet of paper with the address to Dax Allard Enterprises out on the passenger seat. It was located on what Edenites called "the hill," but really, it was just a steep incline that lay to the northeast of town. Only about two miles past my mother's house, it flattened out to a plateau at the top. Back when I was in high school, the hill was nothing but dense woods that kids used as a make-out/smoking/drinking spot. Guess that was all gone now.

The drive up the hill was fraught with unpleasantness, but I was determined to not view it as a portent. The road was so bumpy, my poor Volvo groaned in agony and I had to turn on my headlights because of the ridiculously thick vegetation. Trees grew close together, roots twisting and tangling together; their green canopies barely let any sunlight filter down.

The job paid eighty grand a year, which was the only reason I'd even considered applying. I'd gone six months in Chicago chasing after anything that remotely had to do with my major (psychology), and even several jobs that didn't. When my application for this position—as a "philanthropic liaison," whatever that was—garnered me a call back, I'd had to admit that returning to Eden was probably the wisest idea. Especially since Mom wasn't charging me rent.

As the Volvo lurched in a stomach-twisting way, I wondered how the people who worked up there got to town and back every day without totally destroying their cars. It might be better for me to start bringing my old bike if I got the job, assuming Mom had kept it.

Finally the path cleared a bit and I realized I wasn't driving _up_ anymore but straight. This must be the top of the hill, the plateau that used to be covered in trees. Now there was an enormous set of wrought iron gates that stood open. Past them was an expanse of lawn, lined with a black wrought iron fence.

I drove toward the mansion at the north end of the lawn, which looked like something off of a movie set. Three stories tall and made of velvety grayish-brown stone, it had windows that sparkled in the sunlight and were at least three times the size of the windows in my mom's house. There was a rounded tower-like addition to the left, and the upper right corner was outfitted with a spacious balcony.

I got out of the car and stood with my head tipped back, looking at the grandiosity of it. They'd cleared many of the trees and bushes away from the perimeter of the house so it looked like it could belong virtually anywhere—from eighteenth century England to modern-day Beverly Hills. Timeless.

Hearing the massive front door open, I scurried up the stone stairs. It wouldn't do for my employer to see me standing there, mouth agape at all the splendor around me.

A wizened old man stood in the doorway smiling. He wore an old-fashioned black-and-white suit like I'd seen butlers wear in old movies and his white hair was long and wavy, like noble men wore in the old days. It was almost as if he were in costume.

"Ms. Beaumont, I presume?" he asked in a thick French accent, holding out a white-gloved hand.

"Yes." I smiled and shook his hand, which was extremely warm even through the fabric of the glove. When I'd made the appointment online, I'd assumed I'd be speaking with an impeccably dressed young assistant, the kind companies hired to portray themselves as cutting-edge and trendy. Yet, this man seemed to belong in some other time.

"I'm Oscar Dubois." He walked in and I followed.

The floor in the entry foyer was all dark gray marble. A large circular table dominated the center; on it was an even larger display of cascading white flowers. There was an enormous spiral stairway beyond the table, and the stairs were covered in thick, luxuriant cream carpet. Whatever sort of outfit this was, they clearly had money, and lots of it. The eighty-grand salary was becoming easier to understand.

When we'd ascended to the second floor, Oscar led me down a long hallway and finally into a large office, lined with bookcases. The wall behind the desk was all windows, and they looked over the wooded path I'd just driven through. My cheeks flashed red as I realized that Oscar would've been able to see me creeping up through the vegetation, my poor car stuttering and heaving while it struggled with the altitude. That meant he'd likely seen me ogling the house as well, since he had a clear view of the driveway. So much for poise and professionalism.

"Please sit." He gestured to a sleek chair across from the desk, and I complied. To my surprise, rather than behind the desk, he sat in the chair opposite me, so we were both on the same side. "Now, tell me, why do you wish to work here?"

This being a classic interview question, I'd given it much thought. But it was hard to answer honestly when I had no idea what Dax Allard Enterprises specialized in or what a "philanthropic liaison" was, exactly. So I decided to be semi-honest. I held his light, silver-blue eyes. "Well, I just graduated from the University of Chicago. I wanted to come back home to be close to my mom—her health isn't the best." My eyes drifted away at the lie, but I forced them back to his. "And I was looking for a fresh challenge. I wanted something that'd use some of my college-acquired skills, and none of the minimum wage jobs out there really seemed like they'd do that."

Oscar Dubois smiled. "You must believe me when I say you'll be amply challenged here. This is not a position we take lightly."

I tried to nod intelligently, but then I figured it was better to just ask. "Mr. Dubois, I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what the position entails. What would I be doing, precisely?"

"You would be our connection to the outside world," Oscar said, spreading his arms out. "You'd be the link representing Dax Allard."

"Representing Dax Allard Enterprises in what way?" I still wasn't catching on.

"Well, many charities Mr. Allard contributes to request his involvement on a deeper level than he has the time or the inclination for. You see, Mr. Allard...well, he's not the most _social_ person, shall we say? That's where you'd come in." He held my gaze, and there seemed to be a question in his eyes, maybe wondering if this was something someone like me—young, inexperienced—could handle. No doubt the amount of the donations, if this place was anything to judge by, would be astronomical. I'd probably be rubbing elbows with some very influential people.

I hadn't realized that Dax Allard was a person, but of course, it made sense now. A thought occurred to me. "Is this"—I gestured around the office—"Mr. Allard's _house_?"

Oscar's brow wrinkled. "Why, yes, it is. Why do you ask?"

I shook my head and tried not to laugh. "I thought it was an office building. This sort of house isn't exactly common in Eden." Or in North America.

Oscar chuckled and changed the subject. "Mr. Allard is rather generous with his funds, which is why we need someone to manage his philanthropic interests. He doesn't have the"—here he cleared his throat delicately—"requisite characteristics to meet with chair people, manage boards, and do the miscellaneous other social activities they'd like him to. You would manage his social calendar, see which events he can bypass and which he must absolutely go to."

I felt the beginnings of doubt begin to creep around in the recesses of my brain at the way he kept stressing that Dax Allard wasn't social. But I needed this job. And if I could deal with my roommate's mood swings for four years, I could deal with some man's too. I had to. "I see. Well, I think I'd be up to the task."

Oscar smiled and stood. "I shall return momentarily."

I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the desk, looking out at the woods for several minutes. There was another storm blowing in, the clouds rolling and rumbling like boiling water in a pot. This last thought had just crossed my mind when the atmosphere in the quiet room changed completely.

I felt his presence behind me even though he was silent as a jaguar stalking its prey. Swinging around, my heart racing for reasons I didn't understand—it certainly wasn't fear—I came face-to-face with him for the first time.

Invisible electricity crackled through the air in the five feet of space between us. I knew in my gut that if I crossed the room and grabbed his arm—his quite nicely muscled arm, my brain noted—the current between us would be strong enough to kill me.

But the look on his face... It was an expression I'd never seen on anyone else's face, ever. His eyes were wide, but was it surprise? Alarm? Hostility? I might even have mistaken it for fear, but what did a man well over six feet tall have to fear of a skinny chick like me? The idea was laughable. And yet his lightly-shadowed jaw was clenched so tight, a thick vein in his neck stood out.

Letting my eyes run over him, I noticed that his entire posture was conflicted—on the one hand he seemed to be leaning forward, as if to take in all of me, but on the other, his feet were rooted firmly to the spot, as if he didn't dare take another step.

Well, he might be conflicted, but I wasn't. Everything about this man seemed to draw me in instantly; his height, his broad shoulders, the way his shirt hugged what was sure to be a well-sculpted body. Even his tousled hair, so dark it was almost black, appealed to me on the basest level. I'd never felt an attraction like it.

A sigh worked its way past my lips. It seemed to break the spell on Dax Allard. He cleared his throat, averted his eyes from me, and, walking as closely to the bookshelf-lined walls as possible, entered another foot into the room so that we were within speaking distance.

It seemed to me from simply looking at him—his crisp collared shirt, the clearly expensive beige pants, the shoes that probably cost more than my mom's monthly mortgage—that he was used to doing things his way, the way he liked. But somehow, he looked flustered now. I wondered if I'd done something to offend him, because he continued to fiddle with his cufflinks and refused to meet my eye.

"Miss Beaumont," he began. His voice was deeper than I'd imagined, a little bit like sandpaper would be if it was a sound. It was still beautiful in the way a particularly gorgeous piece of rock can be art. He had a French accent just like Oscar, but his was mixed in with an American one, enough so that it was barely a hint.

"Mr. Allard," I replied, when he didn't go on. His gaze landed on mine then, that look of alarm or surprise or anger in it again. Now that he was closer, I noticed his eyes were a strange color I'd never seen before—a sort of coppery red-brown.

He looked away again, but he still didn't stop fidgeting. "I'm afraid...I'm afraid Oscar made a mistake. The position—it's already been filled."

I was so absorbed in the way this confident man's voice hid just a hint of a tremble that it took me a full five seconds to comprehend what he'd said. When I did, my face drained of color. "What? But—"

He shook his head and, to my intense irritation, began to make his way back toward the door. "Sorry."

I could feel anger turning my cheeks bright pink. "Wait a minute," I called to his back. "This—This isn't fair!"

He half-turned toward me, his face rigid, eyes blazing. I could've sworn the room actually got about ten degrees warmer. "Hasn't anyone told you, Miss Beaumont?" he said. "Life's not fair."

And then he stalked out of the room. I stared after him stupidly, my eyes welling up. That was _it_? The position had been filled and they'd _forgotten_? If I was a more forceful person, I'd run out there and demand an explanation. I'd demand that they pay for my gas and any trouble my car would have from the stupid drive up the stupid hill. I'd ask them to compensate for time lost. But me being me, I simply sank into the chair, closed my eyes tight, and let the tears trickle out from between my lashes.

After a moment, I felt a brief warm touch on my shoulder. I jumped and turned, expecting to see Dax Allard back, come to apologize. But it was Oscar, his eyes kind and soft, sympathetic.

"My deepest apologies, Ms. Beaumont," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I know this has been a waste of your time."

I stood, forcing my tears back. "I don't understand. What...was it something I said?"

Oscar heaved a big sigh, as if he was just as sorry as me. "Not at all. You mustn't think that." He scrutinized my face, as if he was trying to decide something. "You would have been a good fit here, I do think. I have a sense about people."

Desperation began to churn inside me. If I didn't have this job, I had nothing. Would I have to stay on in Eden, work at the diner with my mother? "Then please, can't you reconsider? I promise I can prove myself to you. I work hard, I'm young and adaptable. Does the other applicant have a college degree?" I was willing to bet not, since I was only a handful of people in Eden who did.

But Oscar folded his white-gloved hands neatly. "Alas, it is not up to me. If it were, you would be my choice."

We stared at each other a long moment, and I could see he meant what he said. The choice hadn't been made by him, but by his boss, Dax Allard. And in that moment, I knew instantly that there wasn't another candidate. What was it about me that had revolted Dax Allard so much that he decided, on sight, that he didn't want me working for him? Was he some kind of misogynist? But surely, if he was, they wouldn't have approved my initial application.

Sighing, I followed Oscar back to the front door. I knew I'd continue to torture myself with these questions—questions I had no hope of ever having answered.

"I wish you well, Ms. Beaumont," Oscar said, just before I stepped outside. "And once again, I extend my heartfelt apologies."

"Thanks," I said, panic beginning its siren call in my head. My only job prospect had disintegrated right before me. What was I going to do?

I went down the front steps and tilted my head back toward the sky. The storm was almost upon us.

It got darker as I drove home, although I hadn't thought it possible. With the trees clasping their hands over me, what little gray light the sky gave off was almost completely obscured. The bushes and other vegetation just looked like black shadows on the side of the narrow road. I turned on the headlights, thanking my luck the downward journey would be easier on my old clunker than the drive up. As I bobbed along, the tires kicking out dirt and small pebbles, water drops began to splatter on the windshield. A sudden white flash leached everything of color and turned my surroundings bright for a split second.

Lightning.

I blinked and squinted, and that's when I saw it: Two bright red orbs hidden in the bushes. They might've been an animals' eyes, except the orbs were large, each almost as big as my fist. My heart leaped into my throat, my palms got instantly sweaty, and every hair on my arms stood up as the thrill of fear ran through me. But then I sped right past and the vision was gone.

The rain began to fall harder. I turned the windshield wipers to a faster setting and almost simultaneously, my car lurched. The sound of metal screeching against metal pierced my eardrums.

"No," I whispered, tightening my fists around the steering wheel as if that would help somehow. "No, no. Come on, sugar. Just a little bit more and we'll be home."

The car responded by lurching again, twice, and then shuddering violently before coming to a complete stop.

"No!" My voice rang out in the sudden quiet, the only other sound the drizzling rain. I turned the key in the ignition, but the old Volvo sputtered and wouldn't turn on. It sat there on the slope, refusing to go farther. Slamming my palm against the horn, I lay my head on the steering wheel and tried to swallow away the lump in my throat.

In the thrumming rhythm of the rain, I began to whisper some Langston Hughes poetry.

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

I felt better instantly. Some people bought self-help books; others recited bible passages. I had poetry: a poem for every mood, every mishap, every single major event in life.

When I was sure I wasn't going to cry, I pulled the hood of my coat over my head and opened the car door. The rain intensified, falling faster through the canopy of trees. I figured I should walk home since I was probably closer to my house now than I was to Dax Allard's. And anyway, I had a feeling I wouldn't be welcomed back there, car trouble or not.

Grabbing the flashlight from the glove compartment, I slammed my door and began to walk, keeping to the side of the road in case there were any oncoming cars. Briefly I recalled the two eyes I imagined I'd seen, but then quickly dismissed the thought. If I dwelled on that, I'd start freaking about the charred animals, and that was just a bad path to go down. A fertile imagination could be hazardous in the wrong situations.

To keep my head away from unwanted thoughts, I began to count my steps instead, keeping time with the drumming rain overhead.

...thirteen, fourt—

Crunch. Shuffle. Snap.

The sounds were to my right and behind me, somewhere in the dense vegetation. I paused for a microsecond, but then forced myself to keep walking. It was probably just some small creature, like a possum or a—

Crunch. Snap. Snap. Snap.

The sounds were keeping pace with my footsteps.

Come on, Cara. You're not some weakling. Swing your flashlight around and check what it is.

I took a deep breath and swung around quickly. If it was a person, they wouldn't have time to hang back or duck out of view. But all I saw were bushes, fronds, and tree trunks. The rain continued to pelt down on the hood of my jacket, dripping onto my face in cold rivulets. "Hello?"

But there was no answer. No crunching either. Everything was silent and still. _Too_ still.

I turned back around and picked up the pace. Not too much longer till the bottom of the hill. Maybe if I ran...

But the next thing I knew I was flying through the air, my flashlight ripped out of my hands, rain and wind slapping me in the face.

I landed on my stomach and all the air rushed out of my lungs. For a full five seconds, all I did was gasp, trying to get my bearings as spots floated in my vision. I could see the beam of the flashlight about ten feet away, and I knew I had to get my hands on it if I had any chance of surviving this. Flipping over to my back to face my attacker, I began to backpedal.

It was hard to see what was standing before me because of how dark it was. I could make out a giant shape, and even in the gloom, I could tell it was clearly not human. The thing before me was on four legs, its crimson eyes still glowing as they had when I'd seen it earlier. An animal? By the size of it, it couldn't be a wolf or a dog—it was just too big, maybe the size of a large pony.

My hand closed over the cold shaft of the flashlight just as another streak of lightning split the sky. The creature before me was clear to see for just a fraction of a second—and in that second, I questioned my sanity.

The thing _was_ a large dog or dog-like creature of some kind. But it was easily several hundred pounds. Its face was lean and mean, sort of like a Doberman, with pointed ears. It was completely black, though, with no tan markings at all. The eyes were huge, far too huge for its face, and an eerie red that glowed as if it was lit from the inside. Folded against its sides, accordion-style, were big, leathery flaps of skin that, if I didn't know better, I'd say looked like wings.

When my brain was done processing all this bizarre information, I screamed, heaving the flashlight at the dog. I hoped to break its leg, making it harder for it to chase me. But when I got to my feet and started to run, it followed me without any difficulty.

It was uncannily quiet as it ran—it didn't pant, nor did its feet seem to make much noise as it struck the puddles I sloshed through. A chill ran through me as I understood why I'd heard it crunch after me in the woods. It had _wanted_ me to hear, to be afraid. That spoke of a cunning, sadistic intelligence I didn't want to accept.

I got four feet when its giant mouth clamped on my waist. A scream ripped from my throat as the skin there turned to white-hot fire. My brain shrieked that someone was skewering my skin with countless red-hot pokers. I was assaulted by the sickening aroma of burning flesh. Another scream ripped at my throat as my legs crumpled, my hands flying to my injured side. Hot, thick torrents of blood soaked instantly through my nice shirt. Turning over on my back, screaming yet again at the agony the movement caused, I squinted up at the creature in the rain. It hung back a little now, eying me in absolute silence as it sniffed the air and circled. I knew it was deciding which part of me to eat first.

When it took a step forward, I beat at its legs and haunches with my fists. Its muscles felt like they were made of iron—scalding hot iron. The rainwater actually sizzled when I made contact, and, yelping, I withdrew my hands. I began to watch it quietly instead, waiting for it to make a move. If I was alert, if I was very careful, I knew I could outsmart it. Whatever animal it was, no matter how smart, I was a human being. And no other species on earth was more intelligent than humans.

Except it's not from Earth, is it? Does that look like anything you ever studied in zoology?

I told the voice to shut the hell up. I couldn't start thinking like that. Insanity was only a few more thoughts down that road.

The creature bared its teeth at me. I saw them glowing in the gloom, as if they were made of white phosphorous. When it stepped even closer, I bent my knees and kicked up and out with all my strength.

I saw that I'd hit it square under the jaw. I could _feel_ that I'd connected with it—the impact jarred the bones in my legs all the way up my thighs and into my hips. But the thing didn't even blink or step away. Its face didn't move, as if my entire strength was nothing but a feather's weight.

And just when the gravity of that was sinking in, just when fear was beginning to claw its way through my chest into all of my internal organs, the creature lunged.

Everything happened so fast after that.

I lay on the wet ground, dirt covering every surface of my body, bleeding and getting weaker by the second. I couldn't seem to close my eyes, though I knew I should—this wasn't going to be pretty. But then a fierce snarl tore through the air and the dog thing's eyes went wide. A moment later, I heard a tremendous crack and its head went limp, falling to the side at an impossible angle. And then, right before me, the creature turned to ash. Disintegrated. It was completely gone.

I blinked several times and looked up into Dax Allard's face. His copper eyes seemed to shine as he stood there in the rain and cold without even a jacket on. His shirt was plastered to his body, every muscle outlined. His hands, clenched into fists, seemed to be steaming. But as I watched, stock-still, his eyes stopped shining and the steam evaporated into nothingness.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice gruff. He took a few steps toward me but didn't offer his hand, as if he was afraid to touch me.

"Um..." My side didn't hurt anymore, but I couldn't tell if that was because I was in shock. I stumbled to my feet and the world spun.

Almost instantly, I felt arms—scalding hot arms—like steel traps around my waist and I shrieked as the spot where the creature had bitten me flared with pain.

Dax pulled his arms away but kept one hot hand at my lower back to hold me up. He cursed under his breath. "Were you bitten?"

I blinked up at him again, feeling faint. My vision was growing darker at the corners. I wanted to reply and tell him that yes, I had been bitten, and um, would he mind explaining _exactly_ what had just happened?

But all I managed was to faint dead away.

When I woke up, I was warm and dry and my head felt pleasantly fuzzy. Ensconced under the weight of something fabulously soft and warm, I waited as my eyes slowly focused. A big fireplace, roaring. Men's voices, murmuring somewhere behind me. A high ceiling, giant bookcases...where was I?

"Ms. Beaumont?"

I turned to look at the soft, French-accented voice. It was Oscar, smiling down at me. I tried to smile back, but my lips felt weird, as if they didn't really belong on my face.

"Here; a drink."

I moved my gaze lower and lower until it settled on his gloved hands. He held a small silver tray on which there was a glass of something yellow.

"What..." When my voice came out a hoarse whisper, I cleared my throat and tried again. "What is it?"

"Hot toddy." He set the tray on the table at the head of the couch I was laying on and helped me sit up. I winced as a faraway, foggy pain lit up various parts of my body.

Oscar handed me the hot glass. I wrapped my hands around it and inhaled the aroma. After a long, deep gulp that warmed my stomach and spread to my chest, I looked back at him.

He had a tense, wary look in his eyes, but his mouth was curved upward in a smile. "Better?"

I nodded and set the glass aside, my head starting to buzz with questions. But the toddy and whatever else they'd given me formed a veil over my thoughts and I fought to find one to ask. It wasn't entirely surprising, which one surfaced first. "Where's Dax?"

"I'm here." I heard footsteps behind me and then Dax came around. He'd changed into a cream-colored short-sleeved shirt and dark jeans. Silhouetted against the fire, his eyes cautious, his face perfectly calm, he looked like some kind of avenging angel.

I shook my head, trying to shake another question loose. Finally, haltingly, I said, "What...what was that thing?"

He continued to gaze at me calmly. "What thing?"

"That large black creature." I held my hand up high to indicate how enormous it was. "It attacked me? You somehow...disabled it?" I stared at him. What was he trying to _do_? How could he not remember?

A faint wrinkle creased his brow, but other than that, he looked unperturbed. "Miss Beaumont—"

"Cara."

"Cara. You've had a trauma. Your car broke down on the way back into town, and you were attacked by a big wild dog. I suspect it was rabid. We had a doctor come look at you and he gave you the antidote, so there's nothing to worry about."

I laughed disbelievingly. "That wasn't a dog!" I looked slowly from Dax's impassive face to Oscar's careful eyes, the smile slipping from my face. "And you know that," I said softly, mostly to myself. What was going on?

Dax and Oscar exchanged a fleeting glance. Then Dax looked back at me, his face still a mask, giving nothing away. "No. It was a dog."

There was something wooden and robotic about the way he said it, as if he didn't really expect me to believe his words. With a trembling hand, I reached for the hot toddy and took another sip. Then, after I set it back down, I looked right back into Dax Allard's unfathomable copper eyes. "There was a... a creature in the woods with large red eyes and wings folded to its sides. It stalked me and attacked me, and would likely have killed me if you hadn't come along at exactly the right time." A fire log popped in the fireplace, making me jump, but I kept going. "I tried to attack it, but...it was like it was made of steel...or iron. Nothing I did fazed it.

"But then you were there. You went right up to it and broke its neck. And then it disintegrated into ashes, right in front of me. And your hands...there was steam coming out of your hands, as if they were smoking hot." A series of images of the attack flashed through my mind. I remembered the searing pain of the thing's teeth in my side. The absolute heat of Dax's iron arms as he grabbed me before I fainted. I put my hand to my head. I might be drugged, but I had never been as sure of anything as I was of what I'd witnessed. I knew I'd never forget. "I passed out after that, and you must've brought me here." Another log popped, but none of us acknowledged it that time.

Oscar and Dax were both staring at me as if they weren't quite sure what to say.

Something in my face or my voice must've made an impact. There was a deep silence, during which the three of us continued to stare at each other. Finally, Oscar spoke in a soft, hushed voice. "May we ask you for an oath of silence?"

I looked at him, my damp fists opening and closing on the soft blanket covering me. "I need to know what exactly happened. What was that thing? And...how did Dax do what he did?"

A shadow crossed Dax's face. "Absolutely not. That is none of your concern."

Oscar turned to him. "Dax..." he began, placating.

"It's none of my concern?" The drugs had definitely lowered my inhibition. Anger heated my cheeks more than the fire. "That thing attacked me. It could attack me again—or someone else in town. I deserve to know what it was."

But Dax was glaring at me. "I saved your life. Now I'm asking you not to divulge what you witnessed. I believe that's a fair trade."

Just like that, my resolve began to crumple. There wasn't much I could say to that; he _had_ saved my life. If he hadn't been there, I would've died. Without a question. "Fine," I muttered.

Oscar cleared his throat delicately. "May I have a word, Mr. Allard?"

Dax glared at him, as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to grant him that, but they moved off to the side nonetheless. There was a hushed conversation which I couldn't hear in spite of straining my ears. They sounded like they were speaking much too low, and I wondered how they understood anything that was being said at all.

When they returned back to my side, they each had a reflective, cautious expression on their faces. "Ms. Beaumont," Dax said in his sandpaper voice. "For your troubles, we'd like to offer you one thousand dollars."

I stared at him, my head spinning, and not just because of the medicine. They wanted to pay me for my silence? As much as I was indignant that they felt like they could buy my loyalty, I wasn't delusional enough to say no. I needed that money, desperately. But a thousand dollars wouldn't go very far. "The job," I said, my voice hoarse. "That's what I'd like."

Oscar glanced at Dax, as did I. His face was furious, anger and alarm all over it just as it had been when he'd first seen me. He folded his arms across his chest, biceps bulging with the movement. Entranced, I watched his every move, his change of expression.

"No," he said flatly.

Blood rushed to my face at his tone. "What..." I swallowed. There was no way I'd ask this if I wasn't hopped up on whatever they'd given me, but I wanted to know. "Have I offended you in some way?"

For a moment, Dax stared at me, confusion coloring every facial feature. When understanding seeped in, his eyes widened. Seemingly unconsciously, he took a step closer to me. In spite of the giant fireplace roaring just a few feet away, I could feel his body heat waft out toward me. He was like a walking furnace. "You think...you've _offended_ me?" He actually sounded astounded.

I stared up into his copper gaze, the effects of the drugs somehow melting away. I was completely hypnotized. There was no way I could've lied to him, not even if my life had depended on it right then. Nothing else existed in that moment but the two of us—Oscar, the room, even what had just happened to me in the forest fell away.

In a quiet voice, I said, "You act like I'm the most abhorrent person you've ever met. You refuse to come near me. And you don't want me working for you. Why else would that be?" Ridiculously, I felt a lump in my throat, simply by speaking of his rejection.

A muscle tensed in Dax's jaw, as if he was physically biting back what he wanted to say. His fists tensed into balls, thick veins standing up on his arms. "Ms. Beaumont," he finally said. His quiet voice held a hint of a tremor. "Believe me when I tell you I am not in the least... _offended_ by you." He took a deep breath. "It pains me that you think so."

"Then...then what is it?" I asked, still gazing into his eyes.

But he shook his head.

"Another secret," I muttered. "You seem to have so many."

He smirked, his gorgeous face transforming into something hard and bitter as he looked away, toward the windows and the woods outside. "Yes. And none of them are good. It'd be in your best interests to stay away."

The fire crackled. I realized that sometime during our conversation, Oscar had slipped away. I looked down at my hands, fisted in the blanket. "What if...what if I don't want to stay away?"

I couldn't believe I was saying the words out loud. I had just met this man. But somehow I knew that he felt exactly the way I felt. I was beginning to suspect it was the reason he was so...strange around me. There was something between us that eschewed the traditional hesitant, "play it cool" attitude normal guys and girls our age displayed before they got to know each other.

I expected him to become furious or stalk away. It surprised me when he sighed deeply instead. "Then we're in trouble," he said, his voice barely a rumble. "Because I don't want you to stay away either."

I jerked my gaze back up to his eyes. My breath caught when I saw they were practically smoldering, the copper turning to molten liquid. As my heart began to pump furiously in my chest, I asked, "Then it's settled? I'm working for you?"

He kept his distance, but the heat wafted off him again. Sweat beaded along my hairline. The room seemed to get much, much warmer, as if the fire were encroaching into it. "Yes," he muttered, still staring at me. "If that is what you wish."

I smiled, the warm, fuzzy feeling seeping back into my body. "It is," I said, and I felt my eyelids begin to slip shut.

When I woke up again, I was disoriented. All I remembered was Dax. My eyes swept the room, searching for his face with a voracity I didn't understand. They settled on Oscar's instead.

His pale silver-blue eyes crinkled at the corners. "Do you feel a little better, Ms. Beaumont?"

"Cara." My voice was hoarse, my throat dry.

"Of course," Oscar said, handing me a glass of water. "Here you are. I imagine the medicine must've rather dehydrated you."

After I'd gulped down the entire drink, I nodded. "What did you give me, anyway?"

Something in Oscar's face closed up and I knew he wouldn't tell me the truth before he even opened his mouth. "I'm not sure of the exact name," he said, putting the glass away and refusing to meet my eye. "But then, I'm not a doctor, of course. If you'd like, I can find out for you and call you with the information later." He smiled kindly.

"Right." Another secret. "No, that's not necessary. I feel much better." My hands felt for my injured waist, but found a heavy bandage covering it instead. There were no holes in my shirt, and I glanced down, surprised.

Well, that explained it. I was wearing a t-shirt that was much too large and came down to my knees...and nothing else. Blushing, I looked at Oscar. I didn't know which was harder to think about; Oscar stripping me down, or Dax. "My clothes..."

He seemed to understand. "Victorine—my daughter—was the one to change you. Your clothes were ruined, I'm afraid."

Oscar had a daughter? Why hadn't I seen her yet? "Oh. Please thank her for me."

Oscar smiled placidly. "Of course." Tactfully, he glanced at the clock on the wall. I followed his gaze and gasped. It was almost midnight. "When you are well-rested, I can drive you home. Dax has had your car towed; it will be fixed soon."

I wondered at him calling Dax "Dax" and not "Mr. Allard." That careful, respectful veneer he kept while addressing his employer seemed to have slipped, if accidentally. But I knew asking wouldn't get me any truthful answers. And more than that, I wanted to ask where Dax was, why he wasn't here. Didn't he feel the need to see me, just as I felt the insatiable need to always keep my gaze on him?

But instead, I swung my legs around. I felt naked in the shirt, which was silly, because I wore dresses and shorts much shorter. I wondered if it was Dax's shirt, but the thought made me blush. Instead, I busied myself with thinking how remarkable it was that my side didn't hurt at all. They must have a superb doctor, and even more superb pain medication, though I didn't feel nearly as drugged anymore.

"I'm ready to go now," I said. "I'm sorry. I had no idea it was so late. You should've woken me."

"I was under strict instructions to let you sleep," he replied quietly. I didn't know whether he meant the instructions came from the doctor or Dax, but his tone told me he didn't really want to discuss it.

Oscar led the way back out into the long hallway I'd seen earlier that morning. He was in a hurry, walking as fast as he could go without running. My cheeks flushed as I realized it was probably because I'd long overstayed my welcome. It was likely well past his bedtime. Overcome with guilt, I quickened my pace and struggled to keep up with him.

The gold silk wallpaper glowed softly in the light from the wall sconces as we raced along. It was a perfectly magical house, I thought to myself. Just like Dax, just like whatever secret he was hiding. Reality seemed to take on a different dimension around him.

One second it was quiet, the only sounds my footsteps and my internal monologue. But the next, a piercing, agonized howl ripped through the air. My hand automatically flew to my mouth, my eyes went wide as the horrible sound went on and on.

There was also a thunderous banging, as if a wrecking ball was pounding into something that wouldn't give way. In front of me, Oscar's steps staggered, but he kept walking. Turning around, a tense smile on his face, he beckoned me forward.

I stared at him. When the howl and the banging cut off, I waited for him to say something, but he didn't. I shook my head back and forth, slowly, trying to get a grip. "What...what the hell was that?"

"We must keep walking," Oscar said, his voice tight. "Come along, Ms. Beaumont."

"But—"

I didn't have a chance to finish. Another howl split the air and I clapped my hands to my eardrums. The howl went on and on again, and my eyes filled with tears, my heart aching for whoever was in so much pain.

I stared at Oscar, half in shock, wordlessly imploring him to do something, anything, but he gazed at a spot above my head, lost in thought. It looked like he was trying hard not to show any emotion. This time the howl didn't taper off as it had previously. This time, it morphed into a scream—a full-throated, wholehearted scream. And I recognized the voice of the person screaming.

It was Dax.

My feet propelled me forward without any conscious input from my brain. I grabbed Oscar's arm—he was still standing there like a statue. His skin was blazing hot even through his suit, but I didn't really register it. "That's Dax," I said, my voice shaking, hysterical. "That's Dax. Oh my god. Oh my god, he's in pain! We have to help him!"

That seemed to break his trance. He brushed me off and grabbed my upper arm with a gloved hand. With surprising force, he began to drag me forward. I tried futilely to resist.

"No, it's not Mr. Allard," he said. It was silent again—the howling and screaming had temporarily stopped. My heart was trying to pound itself out of my chest as I waited for it to start back up again. "It's just an animal out in the woods."

"No, it's not!" I tried to pull away from him, but his hand was like a steel trap around me. "Let go! Why don't you want to help him?"

"Believe me, Ms. Beaumont, it's best if I get you home now."

I kept asking, but he wouldn't relent, lapsing instead into complete silence. Finally, I shut my mouth too, my heart still racing as I waited for more screaming. What was happening to Dax? And why didn't Oscar want to help?

Oscar pulled me to the giant attached garage in silence. His footsteps were completely quiet compared to my loud shuffling walk. Inside, there were several different, shiny cars. We headed to a black Range Rover. Oscar released my arm, waited while I clambered in to the passenger's seat, and then went around to the driver's side.

He sat staring out the windshield in the quiet. I looked at him out of the corner of my eyes, my blood roaring in my ears. I wondered if I should be afraid.

I wasn't; not at all. Nothing about Oscar scared me, just as nothing about Dax did. But I still wanted to know what was going on, why Dax had howled and screamed that way.

Oscar finally turned to me. "I know this must be hard for you to understand," he said.

I nodded and waited for him to go on.

"But please, trust me when I say Dax is fine." "Dax" again, not "Mr. Allard."

"So what...what was the screaming all about?" I swallowed, my chest clenching tight with the horrible memory. "Is he...in pain?" The thought of him in agony was like a knife in my flesh. It actually, physically hurt.

Oscar sighed and started the car. "I cannot say any more, Ms. Beaumont," he replied. "I do apologize."

Of course. Of course he couldn't say any more. Everything was a big secret that I wasn't in on. But I still needed to see Dax. I wanted to make sure he was okay with my own eyes. I didn't have much hope of Oscar letting me, but I had to ask. "Can I... can I see him before we go?"

Oscar shook his head as he sped toward the hill. "I'm afraid not. He's otherwise occupied."

Right. How had I known he'd say that? "Oh." I watched the shadows of trees and bushes speed by us as Oscar drove. The Range Rover was a much smoother drive than my Volvo, and I could barely hear the noises of the rocks and pebbles under us. "In that case, what time should I be at work tomorrow?"

A small frown creased Oscar's eyebrows. "Mr. Allard wants you to take the day off tomorrow. You've had a rather hard time of it today."

"No. I want to be there." I had to see Dax again, to see if he really was all right. If I couldn't see him now, I'd see him tomorrow. "I'll take a taxi."

"I'm afraid I must be firm about this," Oscar replied, disapproval heavy in his tone. "Mr. Allard would be extremely unhappy were you to turn up tomorrow."

I frowned and shook my head, but my heart soared at the thought that Dax'd be fine enough to be unhappy with me. So Oscar wasn't just trying to pacify me—the screaming really wasn't as bad as it sounded? I shuddered at the memory. "All right. I suppose I can wait another day." Or maybe I'd show up there tomorrow anyway. What could they do at most? Send me away? At least I'd have a chance at getting a glimpse of Dax.

Oscar beamed at me. "Excellent. We'll see you the day after at nine a.m."

I smiled weakly back.

Oscar jetted off after he'd extracted a promise from me to not overdo it the next day.

Inside, the house was dark and quiet; Mom was in bed. I peeked into her room. She lay on her side, just a small lump under her covers, Dad's side of the bed vast and empty. She'd never learned to sleep in the middle of the bed. I considered waking her to tell her I was home, but what would be the point? Mom wasn't aware of my presence in her universe, not really.

I closed her door and tiptoed into the bathroom. Grimacing at my image in the mirror, I began to pull out twigs and leaves from my frizzy mess of hair. My mind slipped back to Dax's howling and screaming. It had sounded so animalistic, so primal. I couldn't imagine that Oscar wouldn't rush to Dax's aid. Or even Oscar's daughter, Victorine. What sort of a person could ignore a sound like that?

But I knew from the way Oscar had reacted that it had to do with the big secret they'd paid me off to keep. Something weird was going on up there on that hill. Something that involved dogs as large as horses and incredibly strong, scalding-hot men...

When I'd washed my face and scrubbed the dirt out from under my fingernails, I figured I should brave looking at the bite.

I wasn't good with physical wounds. Blood made me dizzy and anything bigger than a paper cut made me vomit. But this being my body, I figured I needed to check it. I felt bile begin to rise up my throat at the memory of the searing pain and smell of burning flesh, so I quickly pushed it to the far recesses of my mind.

The doctor had covered the wound with a thick bandage. Gingerly, gritting my teeth, I pulled the edge of the tape off and peeled the bandage away from my skin. I stood staring at the spot where the bite should've been for a full minute.

There was almost nothing there—just a smattering of faint pink, slightly puckered spots where the creature's teeth had sunk into my flesh. I rubbed my skin in wonder. It felt warmer than the rest of my body, but other than that, there was no indication anything near the terror of what I'd experienced had really happened. It should've taken weeks for a bite wound to heal to this point. What the heck had happened? I flipped the bandage over to see if there was blood on the other side, but it was snow-white.

It was too late and I was too exhausted to think about it further. Tossing the bandage in the trashcan, I decided that I'd ask Dax about it...not that I expected any answers.

After a quick, hot shower, it hit me just how tired I was. I crawled into bed and, in spite of all the impossible memories and images my brain was buzzing with, I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

When I woke up early the next morning to an empty house, Dax was on my mind. I'd tossed and turned with nightmares of him being bitten by giant dogs. I briefly pondered heading up the hill in a taxi, but the memory of Oscar's disapproval stopped me. I sat on the edge of my bed, torn. What should I do? I wanted answers so badly, but it was clear that Oscar and Dax didn't want to give them to me.

And then, like a bright bolt of lightning, the answer came to me: research. I was good at research, having had to do mountains of it for papers at school. Even someone like Dax Allard had to have an electronic trail, right? Were there any questions the Internet couldn't answer?

I brushed my teeth and showered, and, by the time I stepped out of the bathroom, a plan had coalesced in my brain: I would dig out my old bike from the garage and drive to the library. I wanted to harness the power of the written (and digital) word to find out all I could about the weird creature in the woods and the howling I'd heard last night...and by extension, hopefully about Dax Allard, too.

I scarfed down a granola bar and some coffee and headed outside into the foggy morning. My Volvo, gleaming in the muted sunlight, greeted me in the driveway. I stood staring at it for a long moment. When had it arrived? Had Dax been to my house?

I crunched across the gravel toward it, and my gaze immediately lit upon the note in the windshield. My heart beating an erratic pattern, I pulled it free of the wipers with trembling fingers.

_Ms. Beaumont_ , it said in devastatingly perfect cursive,

My sincerest apologies. You'll find your car in acceptable condition once again.

See you tomorrow.

Dax Allard

I could smell his scent on the paper—wood smoke and an underlying spice—and it made me dizzy. It was all I could do to not hold it to my nose and breathe it in. Relief surged through my veins. If he'd brought this here today, if he'd written this note, it meant he truly was okay, just like Oscar had promised. I slipped the piece of paper into my back pocket instead, and smiling, got into my car.

The inside, too, had been thoroughly cleaned, and as soon as I turned the key, heat began to blast through the vents. _Wow_. Tentatively, I tried my window. It rolled down smoothly. I wasn't surprised to find the gas gauge on full and the windshield repaired; I hadn't noticed it before because the note had monopolized my attention.

My head swimming, I began to back out the driveway. Who was this man?

I drove to the library with the windows down and the heat on, just because I could. Dax Allard or his personal mechanic hadn't just returned the Volvo back to acceptable condition; it was now better than it had been before the breakdown. I was able to coax it to just under sixty as I raced down the highway toward the library Eden shared with Grantonville, a nearby, slightly larger town.

I sang along with Toby Keith on the only station I could get out here in the boonies, my hair whipping around in the damp, chilly breeze. Though the sun was out now, there'd be more bad weather heading our way—the clouds on the horizon looked an angry purple.

This was Eden's winter of storms.

The library was a tiny shack-like building that leaned slightly to one side. It smelled like mold and dust, and the roof leaked. But it was all I had. The librarian looked up in surprise when I walked in, putting a plump finger in her book to hold her place.

"Can I help you?" she asked in an affronted tone, peering over her glasses.

"Would it be all right if I used the computer?" I pointed to the lone desktop machine sitting sadly in the corner. "The Internet's working, isn't it?"

"More or less," the librarian replied, still watching me suspiciously. I wondered when someone had last been in here. She pushed a clipboard with a form toward me. "Sign in, please."

I scrawled my name in the topmost row and plopped down in front of the computer. The connection was sluggish, but thankfully, it still worked. I pulled up the search engine and, with fingers that suddenly felt stiff and cold, typed in _Dax Allard Enterprises._

It pulled up the official Dax Allard website, which was rigidly professional and gave me no information at all. It had Dax listed as the CEO and Oscar as his assistant. No one else, not even Oscar's daughter Victorine.

Closing the website, I scrolled down and saw mentions of some of his philanthropic endeavors. Wow. He gave a _lot_ of money to charity. I'd be kept plenty busy. There were people from every kind of non-profit foundation—AIDS to animal welfare to women's rights—singing Dax's praises.

After reading fifteen minutes' worth of carefully-worded press releases, I blew out a frustrated breath. There was nothing listed here that would help me make sense of any of what had happened. Pretending to lean down to itch my ankle, I tossed a look over my shoulder at the librarian. She was still behind her desk, about twenty feet away, engrossed in her paperback.

Turning back to the screen, I typed in _Large dog with red eyes_. The very first website that came up talked about an entity called, straightforwardly enough, The Black Dog. It said apparitions of big black dogs with red eyes were associated with the devil or with hell. Apparently these phantom dogs were believed in some parts of the world to be portents of death, and were also called Hellhounds. They were ridiculously strong—virtually indestructible.

My hands began to get clammy and I felt my breathing speed up. Virtually indestructible. Associated with hell. I thought about the searing heat of the dog's teeth, the way its body felt like it was made of iron. Could it have been responsible for those animals I saw on my first day back in Eden, the charred ones on the side of the road?

The website went on to say that the Black Dog didn't typically attack people or cause harm unless it was threatened. But I definitely hadn't threatened the thing in the woods. I kept reading, but there was nothing about what I really was curious about: people who were able to kill these Hellhounds with their bare hands. People who gave off enough heat to power a small city.

I felt like I was missing something obvious, like the answer was in these pages but I just wasn't seeing it. I clicked on links from one website to another and read sentences here and there.

...these beasts were created by demons to act as protectors...

...demonic entities, representatives of the Dark World...

...gates of Hades...

The words began to slowly sink in to the folds of my brain. Red flags began to pop up, their siren call finally getting through to me.

Hades. Hellhounds. Representatives of demons. They were demon-created... did that mean they could only be _demon_ -destroyed?

My heart began to race, thoughts swirling around rapidly in my head—it was hard to focus on any one. With shaking hands, I typed in _How to destroy demonic creatures_. A long list of websites came up, but the only real information stated was that demons and their creatures couldn't be destroyed easily. I couldn't resist rolling my eyes: That was something I'd figured out on my own.

But then I stumbled on a small website run by a group of demonologists that had something different to say. According to them, there were ancient shamanic rituals and special ingredients that could be employed to destroy certain kinds of demons, though the outcome wasn't always successful.

One article listed a story that had been passed down from generation to generation in an Inuit tribe. It told of a fearsome demon in human form that'd been captured by the tribe's spiritual leaders. As they'd recited the chants and performed the ritual to destroy it, the demon had shrieked in agony, banging against its iron fetters. Its howls were said to have pierced the night, waking every creature that slumbered.

The article stressed over and over again that these shamanic rituals worked only on demons of the most powerful, terrifying kind—the kind that took human form and walked the earth with the sole intent of seducing humans to steal their souls.

I thought back to last night: the agonized howling, the screaming that I'd been so sure had emanated from Dax, the ear-pounding banging. My flesh was riddled with goosebumps as I pondered the impossible. Was Oscar trying to kill Dax, whatever he was? But he worked for him. And Dax had left me a note this morning, so he wasn't dead. It didn't make any sense. I shook my head to clear it.

Okay. What did I know about Dax Allard?

He was stronger than any human I'd ever encountered—he'd turned to dust a creature from hell that seemed to be made of iron. His hands had steamed, as if his skin was extremely hot to the touch—as hot as the creature's mouth had been on my skin. His own arms, when he'd wrapped them around my waist, had been scalding hot. A temperature like that on a normal person would surely signal impending death. His eyes were a color I'd never seen on any person, and they'd seemed to shine when he was fighting the hound. He was impossibly beautiful. There was something that drew me to him...his soul reacted to mine with an electric charge that was almost tangible.

The puzzle pieces began to fall together, arranging themselves into a shape I recognized, but was trying my best to not see. I still didn't have all the answers; I didn't understand everything I needed to in order to know the whole truth. The rituals didn't quite fit into what I was beginning to understand, but that still didn't stop realization from dawning. Faced with facts I couldn't deny, I knew in my soul that this was true:

Dax Allard was a demon. He was here to steal my soul. And I'd fallen in love with him instantly.

The night is darkening round me,

The wild winds coldly blow;

But a tyrant spell has bound me,

And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending

Their bare boughs weighed with snow;

The storm is fast descending,

And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,

Wastes beyond wastes below;

But nothing drear can move me:

I will not, cannot go.

\- The Night is Darkening Around Me, Emily Brontë

Demon. Demon. Dax Allard is a demon.

The word echoed, spun around, and hit the sides of my brain as I drove back to Eden from the library. Demons didn't exist. They were the stuff of myths and legends, a scary story we told to entertain ourselves.

Right?

But if that was true, then how could I explain the weird events I'd witnessed? Dax's superhuman strength, the heat that rose off him as if he were some kind of human sun? As I got closer to the turn-off to my mom's house, I gripped the steering wheel hard.

Dax had refused to tell me what had happened. Though, by the end of last night, he'd confessed that something weird was going on. That's why Oscar, his assistant, had offered me money—an offer I'd wickedly worked up into a job offer.

My insides thrilled at the memory of the rest of that conversation, how Dax had said he hadn't wanted me to stay away from him. I forced my mind back on track. But he'd also said that he was bad for me. That his secrets weren't good...

I sped past my turn-off. There was only one way to find out the truth. I had to go after it. I had to go speak with Dax Allard.

A gusting wind buffeted my poor car as I drove up the hill to Dax's mansion. Blackened clouds scuttled overhead, gearing up for another temper tantrum of a storm. As the first raindrops pelted my windshield, I sneaked glances at the sides of the tiny road, on the lookout for any more glowing eyes like I'd encountered the previous day.

The car had been restored back to like-new condition thanks to Dax, that was true, but I didn't completely trust that it wouldn't have another breakdown and a repeat of last time. Only, this time I might not be as lucky—Dax might not be there to save me.

But before I knew it I was on the plateau, heading straight for the gates that would lead to his enormous front lawn and mansion. I let out my breath in a relieved sigh. It was all right; I'd made it.

A flash of something bright caught my eye through the sheets of rain. My breath caught in my throat and my heart began to throw itself against my chest. Dax stood a few feet from my car, leaning against a pillar at the gates, perfectly still. He stared through the windshield at me, his copper eyes glinting even from this distance.

How had he known I was coming? My mouth was completely dry in ironic contrast to my surroundings. I had no idea what I was going to say. How do you tell someone you've come to his house to accuse him of being a demon? I wondered if I should be afraid. I wasn't; not in the slightest. Something inside me, some part that was very sure, insisted that Dax would never hurt me.

After putting the car in park, I threw open the door and stepped out. I hadn't brought a jacket with me, and the rain turned my clothes into a freezing cold, dripping wet second skin. But somehow it didn't matter.

I walked around the front of the car so there was nothing separating us. We stood several feet apart, neither of us trying to get closer. Dax took a step back, putting more distance between our bodies. It didn't help—that strange invisible electric current we seemed to generate whenever we were together still crackled, stronger than ever before.

As if pulled by something I couldn't see, I took a corresponding step forward, and was immediately mortified when his gaze followed my desperate actions. He didn't take a compensating step backward, though, and my heart rejoiced at this small gesture. My body sought out his warmth, that incredible heat emanating from him, as if it was unsure how it had ever existed without it before. The need to be near him, to be close, was overpowering.

I swallowed, hard, trying to get my mind back on track, to get the nerve up to say what I knew to be the truth. "You..." I held his copper eyes as buckets of water drenched us. His short-sleeved t-shirt clung to the hard contours of his chest and stomach. "You're..."

He didn't blink. He remained still, his face a placid mask. His hands hung loose at his sides, as if we were just having a chat about something inconsequential, as if we weren't out in a downpour. "Yes?" he asked, as if he couldn't care less about the answer.

"I...I know what you are." My eyes searched his for the alarm or even hostility I'd glimpsed yesterday. But he just stood there, waiting patiently. Finally, I coughed up the word. "You're...a demon." My voice trembled as the word left my mouth, but I knew them to be as true as any words had ever been. Seeing him, feeling the electricity between us, feeling the heat of him, seeing the copper glint in his otherworldly stare, I knew. There was no way this man was human.

Something flashed across his face—something like surprise—but was gone in an instant. He crossed his arms across his chest and continued to stare at me, water dripping down the planes of his face. I refused to look away.

"A demon," he echoed softly, his rough voice deep. "And...how do you feel about that?"

My mind spun out in a thousand directions, even though, of course, I'd known deep down it was true. Just the fact that he was acknowledging it, or at least that he wasn't vehemently denying it or laughing at me, was incredible. I wiped the water out of my eyes with my fists. "I...I don't know." I stared into his eyes as lightning turned the world white. With all the shadows bleached away, his copper eyes and high cheekbones made him look feral. Thunder crashed, shaking the world under our feet. "The hound in the woods...was it yours?"

He started to say something, but then looked over his shoulder. Confused, I followed his gaze. My breathing turned ragged.

The hellhound looked sleeker than I remembered, its jet black skin gleaming in the rain. Its wings—and I could clearly see they were wings now—were spread out, giving it a glorious, wicked appearance. But though its eyes glowed deep crimson like before, there was something about its expression that wasn't as menacing, as predatory, as it had been in the woods yesterday. It trotted toward us, down the drive, at an impossible speed with its ears up, as if it had heard something interesting.

I stepped backward, my shoes squelching in the mud. There was no way I could outrun it. But why wasn't Dax doing anything? He just stood there, his head still turned over his shoulder, as the creature approached. It stopped at his side, the top of its back level with his chest.

Dax turned toward me, and when he saw my face, he held his hands out. His expression softened. "It's all right. This is Shuck. He's mine, and he's not dangerous to humans like the one you saw yesterday."

The hound watched me closely, its head cocked.

"Sorry," Dax continued, patting its back. "He responds when I call to him in my mind. That's why he came out. I did it without thinking that you wouldn't have heard..."

I marveled at how casually he spoke the words, how casually he told me about his mind-reading dog from hell. "Is he—I saw some animals on the side of the road when I drove in to Eden. They had scorch marks all over them, and they'd been ripped apart." I tried not to cringe at the memory. "Is that your hound's doing?"

"No. I don't let him hunt live prey."

"Oh." It must've been the other Hellhound, the one that attacked me.

"Would you like to come inside, where it's warm and dry?" Dax gestured toward his house, as if he was afraid that any sudden movement would spook me. After a long pause, I nodded.

He turned to walk up the drive, his hound, Shuck, following right behind. I got in my car to follow.

Though I drove while they walked, Dax and his dog beat me to his house.

The giant front door stood open. I stepped through without knocking, sorry to see water from my clothes puddle on the marble floor. Speaking of which, where were Dax's puddles?

As if my thoughts had called to him, Dax walked in from a room on the right. "I've started a fire in the living room."

I followed him back into the room, trying to quiet my chattering teeth. A giant fireplace that took up most of one wall, and my skin tingled in response to the roaring fire; my clothes began to dry right away. I considered taking off my shoes and wet socks, but decided that might be a little too much.

When I turned around, Dax was peering at my shivering form, concern all over his absurdly beautiful face.

"I'm going to get you some dry clothes," he said, striding to the door. And in a lower voice, "Humans don't dry out very fast."

While he was gone, I glanced around the room. The hound had disappeared. Where did it go? It wasn't like you could build a doghouse for a thing that size. I wondered if it had stables, like a horse would. This was all so weird.

Dax returned then, a stack of clothes in his arms.

"Here," he said, passing them to me.

Our fingers touched when I took the stack, and I gasped involuntarily at the scalding temperature of his skin. He pulled his hand back, a smirk playing about his lips. "I'll be back in a few minutes. And then we can talk."

As he walked back out, I noticed that his own clothes were almost entirely dry already, as was his hair. Did his feverish temperature have something to do with that?

When the door to the living room shut behind him, I stripped quickly, and slipped on the clothes he'd brought me. They belonged to a woman—a very tall woman—and I had to roll up the hem of the pants. I'd just have to hold the waist while I was here. I spread out my wet clothes on the wide fireplace hearth so they could dry, then crossed the room and opened the door so Dax would know to come back in.

When he did, he kept his eyes downcast as if he didn't want to risk seeing me naked. I realized I was hurt at the thought and laughed internally. Of course it was unlikely Dax would feel the same intense level of attraction for me as I felt for him.

What I felt, the intensity of it in the short time that I'd known him, was bizarre. We'd only just met, but already I knew his scent as if it were my own; I craved his presence as if I'd never lived without him.

"Please sit." He gestured to the pale lavender couch. It looked like something straight out of a fairytale.

When I sat, he did, too. It was a little old-fashioned that he'd waited for me to sit first, but I was oddly charmed at the same time.

"So." I took a deep breath and ran my hands along the silky fabric of the pants.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "So."

The fire hissed and crackled in the grate, punctuating the silence. My hands were getting cold again, but not from the rain this time. "I noticed you didn't..." I let my eyes wander away; his gaze was unnerving in so many ways. "You didn't deny what I said earlier."

He chuckled softly. "No, I didn't. I didn't think it'd make a difference whether I argued or not. Would it have?"

I looked at him again. "No." I wondered as I sat there how a demon could be so incredibly perfect. Weren't they always portrayed as frenzied, scary creatures with hideous skin and flaming hands? And yet, here sat a man who looked like an exquisite painting or a Photoshopped magazine model.

Dax leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. His muscles flexed and bulged, and I found myself completely entranced by his fluid movements. "I assume you have questions about everything. The hound, my...existence."

I did. I had so many questions about so many different things, I didn't know where to start. Outside, thunder boomed. "Where did that thing come from? Was it another demon's?"

"Yes. It was likely exploring territory. Demons do that when they want to relocate. We aren't the most social creatures, so we tend not to live near other clans. From the way his hound attacked you, I'd say this demon isn't like me. He doesn't live without hurting humans." He watched me carefully as I processed this information. Flickering shadows from the firelight danced across his face.

"Right." I took a deep, shaky breath. This was something I'd read about at the library. "So... he steals souls from people?"

"Yes." Dax's voice was quiet. "Demons need human souls to stay immortal."

"But then, how do _you_ stay immortal? If you don't take human souls?" I flushed. "I mean, I'm assuming you are immortal."

Dax smiled and nodded. "Yes, I am. The way I live is all thanks to Oscar. He's a great man. He pioneered the movement wherein demons can exist without resorting to our monstrous natures. We perform Shamanic rituals that allow us to overpower those urges." Though his tone was casual, a muscle in his jaw jumped.

Shamanic rituals. I'd read about those, too. They were used by certain Inuit tribes to kill demons. And they were supposed to be agonizing. Something clicked in my brain. "That ritual. It's painful, isn't it? That's why you were screaming last night." My heart clenched at the memory of his howls and screams, at the sheer agony in his wordless cries. He was going through that so he could be good? So he wouldn't hurt a human? He'd rather put himself through torture than do that. My eyes teared up at the utter selflessness of it.

"Well, it's better that I go through the ritual every fortnight than a human suffer needlessly, isn't it?"

I shook my head. "You say it so casually, like it's no sacrifice at all. But you...you were in agony."

There was silence between us as we gazed at each other, the warmth of the fire and Dax's skin bathing me. After a moment, he said, "You must have more questions."

I did, but I didn't know how to voice them all. I felt like I could ask question after question and still only dig the shallowest hole in the wealth of information there was about this other world.

Dax seemed to sense that I was overwhelmed. Unlacing his fingers, he set his big hands neatly on his thighs. "Perhaps I should tell you how it was for me yesterday. From the moment I saw you..." He spoke so quietly, it was more like he was breathing words. "From the very first moment I entered the room and _smelled_ you, your scent of apple and vanilla, I knew I wanted you." He looked up at me, his eyes on fire. "I want you like nothing I've ever wanted before."

My heart began to race; my palms were instantly sweaty. I realized I was leaning in toward him without having made a conscious decision to do it. I was breathing in his wood smoke and spice scent, too. "Why?"

"Destiny." He grinned a smile as bright as the sun breaking through clouds. "If you believe in that sort of thing."

"What do _you_ believe?" I asked, trying to slow my breath.

"I believe that there are some things your mortal world can't explain," he said, his voice soft again. His eyes turned to the fire, and the copper looked like it was burning. "Sometimes there's a connection between a demon and a mortal's soul. It feels like electricity, like something so powerful it's actually physical." I thought about how electricity seemed to crackle between us every time we were together. "We call it betrothal, but it doesn't have anything to do with the mortal institution of marriage. It's more a soul calling." He looked at me, his eyes still smoldering. "You, Ms. Beaumont, are my betrothed. And that's why, if you knew any better, you'd run."

I leaned closer, chasing the wood smoke scent of his body, breathing myself dizzy. Could I be more hypnotized? "Run?"

His expression lay somewhere between irritated and amused. "Hand me that bowl, please."

He pointed past me to the small end table beside the couch, on which sat a large bowl. It was heavy, made of iron, most likely. I passed it to him with both hands.

With a twist of his fingers, Dax began to work the metal as if it were clay. He rolled it into a ball slightly smaller than his fist.

He closed his hand, and when he opened it again, the ball was gone, replaced by a pile of iron particles. After making a small hill of metal dust on the coffee table in front of us, he brushed his hands off. Then he turned back to stare at me, his eyebrows lifted as he waited for my reaction.

I inhaled slowly and then blew out and shook my head. "But you won't hurt _me_."

"And how do you know that?" He leaned in close, his teeth glinting in the firelight. His breath was hot and sweet, smoky like his scent. "Do you want to know what appeals most to me about you?"

I nodded as if in a trance, my mind beyond reason.

"Your soul." He whispered the words, his beautiful copper gaze full of shame and anger. "That's what a betrothal is for our kind. It's not simply an intense physical attraction, an intense hunger for your body, though that's there as well." As he said this, his eyes dropped to my throat, and lower to my chest. My cheeks flared with heat. He dragged his gaze back up and said, "It's the need to completely possess you. To take _everything_ ; body, mind, and most of all, soul."

Lightning split the sky outside, and a second later, thunder roared.

"But I don't understand," I said. "How do you 'take' a soul?"

I wasn't the least bit religious. We'd stopped going to church long before my dad had died, when I was really little. I thought about god the usual way people my age did—when there was a final I wanted to ace or a job I really wanted to get. I'd never thought about my soul as such, or whether there even really existed such a thing.

"You kill the person."

I knew in some logical part of my brain that the words should make me want to run. But I didn't feel even the slightest terror. I moved closer, so our thighs almost touched. My skin burned with the heat of him. "But you haven't."

He chuckled darkly. "Is that any sort of indication that I won't? Just because you haven't been attacked by a shark, should you cut yourself and wade into shark-infested waters?" He shook his head. "I'm a monster. Do you know what happens to humans who mate with demons?"

My heart thrilled at the word _mate_. Was it just my human hormones? I didn't know, and I didn't especially care. Every single fiber of me wanted him. I shook my head.

"They die." The intensity in his gaze stole my breath away. "We exist only to suck the souls out of humans and use them to bolster the quality of our immortal lives. We take advantage of that intense attraction our betrothed feels for us to mate with them. Demons are virile. It's highly, highly likely that once we mate, you will get pregnant. But the child will attack your body. You'll die an agonizing death, your body writhing in pain, your mind begging for release. Another demon will be birthed, and I'll use your soul, the spark of energy that makes you _you_ , for my own purposes." He leaned in, touched my chin with the tips of his fingers. Though the skin there smoldered with heat, I made no effort to move away. "Is that how you want your life to end?"

"No," I breathed. "But I know you won't hurt me."

He stood, and the speed with which he did it left me dizzy. I blinked and he was already across the room, standing by the fireplace. "Then you know more than I do," he said, his voice thick with disapproval. "How can you be so willing to risk your life?"

How could I not? I was entrenched in him. I wanted to be close to him at any cost. I'd asked for the job yesterday not just because I needed it, but because I needed _him_. I couldn't fathom not seeing him every day for the rest of my life.

"You saved me," I said, instead of saying any of what I was really thinking. "You saved me from the other hound in the woods. Was it just so you could have my soul? Because I don't believe that."

At this he looked away, deep into the fire. I could see only the side of his face, the hardness of his jaw. "I don't know," he said in a low voice, and he could've been speaking to himself. "I was enraged that it wanted to harm you—the thought of your soul didn't enter my mind.

"I don't understand why I seem to care so much. I've never heard of a demon experiencing such an emotional connection to his betrothed, though it often gets emotional for the human. Your kind isn't very good at separating one from the other. But we're not made to care, to form such deep bonds. _To fall in love_."

My heart soared at his last sentence. To fall in love. He was in love with me?

Dax Allard was in love with me. My mind couldn't wrap itself fully around his words.

"It doesn't change anything."

He squatted in front of the fireplace, then thrust his right arm into the flames. I only had time to gasp and cover my mouth with one hand before he grasped a burning log and stood to face me. Dax closed his fingers and the log crumbled to dust.

The flames engulfed his hand and arm and kept burning. "I'm still a demon. I'm still bad for you." He blew out the fire with one deep breath. His hand continued to smoke, but other than that, there were no signs of damage—no blisters, not even reddened skin.

I stood, one hand holding the waist of the pants I'd been loaned. My knees trembled; my heart jumped about in my chest as I walked toward him. His eyes were on a slow burn, watching my every step.

"I'll be the judge of that." I took another step closer. Heat engulfed me, but I couldn't tell if it was the fire or my body reacting to him. "If you...like me, why did you look at me with so much hostility when we first met yesterday?" My throat constricted at the memory.

"Hostility?" He looked momentarily confused, and then chuckled softly. Reaching out, he touched the tips of his fingers to my cheekbone, tracing a line down to one ear lobe. I shivered at the heat he left in his wake. He shook his head slowly, his eyes on my lips. "I was more than a little _surprised_ , I'll admit." He lifted his left hand so both were at my face. His fingertips traced lines from my eyes to my nose to my lips. I could barely breathe; my pulse thundered in my ears. "I've been around humans for two hundred years"—my eyes widened slightly, but he didn't seem to notice—"and not once have I ever encountered someone who made me feel the way you did. I didn't even have to see your face to know you were my betrothed. Your fragrance alone..." He leaned toward me, our noses almost touching, and breathed in deeply.

I wanted him to kiss me like I'd never wanted anything else, but my body seemed to be frozen. Pulling back, he smiled. "And when I saw your reaction to me, it confirmed it. I couldn't imagine working with you every single day and not giving in to the urge to have you." His eyes sparkled.

I felt heat in the pit of my stomach; my legs turned to jelly. His fingers ran lightly over my lips and then he dropped his hands. "But I've worked so hard to not cause harm. I haven't hurt anyone since—in a long time." Something hard glinted in his eyes. "And I won't start with you. Which is why I must beg you to reconsider taking this job."

He took a step back and unthinkingly, I stepped forward so we could still be close. He sighed at my persistence, but didn't step back again.

"No," I said. The stubborn note in my voice was noticeable even to me.

He sighed again. "In that case, we must be careful. I _will_ be careful. But a little help from you would be nice."

"I'll do whatever I can to make it easier for you," I replied, thinking I'd do anything to be close to him.

He smiled ruefully. "I don't know if that's possible, but all we can do is try. I care too much about you to just use you and discard you, Cara." His smile slipped away, and once again, he looked hard, unmoving. "I wish you'd see how dangerous this is."

"Leave that up to me," I said, forcing myself to keep the tone light. I tugged at the waistline of the pants I wore. "Are these Victorine's clothes? I really should thank her for all her help."

Dax looked past me to the door. "Then here's your chance."

I turned to see a woman who could easily have been a movie starlet from the fifties. Her shoulder-length blonde hair curled in perfect ringlets, pinned to one side with a rhinestone-studded hairpin. She was tall with curves in all the right places, and wore a sleeveless wrap dress in spite of the weather. When she walked in, no hint of a smile lit her gorgeous face. She looked me up and down with the most devastating violet eyes. "You must be Cara Beaumont." The way she said it, in her husky, deep timber, it sounded like she was sick of hearing my name.

"Yes." I smiled, glancing uneasily at Dax. He stood rigid by my side, his eyebrows knitted together. "I was just telling Dax I should thank you for being so kind to me. First by changing me yesterday and now by lending me your clothes."

She just continued to stare at me apathetically. Abruptly, she turned to face Dax. "Father needs you. In the office."

Dax put his hand on my arm, the scorching heat of his palm comforting against Victorine's cold demeanor. "I need to go speak with Oscar. The storm's still raging, so will you wait here till I return?"

I nodded, and looked hesitantly from him to Victorine.

He smiled. "Don't worry, Victorine is in the know. As is Oscar." He smile widened until he was grinning, and he flashed his teeth at Victorine. "In fact, they're demons themselves, though Victorine's only a halfling."

My mouth fell open at how openly he said the word "demon." But then Victorine surprised me even more by ramming a fist, hard, into his chest. I heard her fist connect with his body—it was like hammer to stone—but Dax barely moved.

He bent his knees to absorb the impact and laughed as he pushed her hand off him. "No need to get testy," he said. Then, turning to me: "I really must go, Cara. But I'll hurry back." The promise in his warm copper eyes heated my cheeks, and I nodded, my heart galloping.

When it was just Victorine and me lounging by the fire, I looked at her through the fringe of my eyelashes. "What... what did Dax mean when he called you a halfling?"

She rolled her brilliant eyes and tossed her curls in a theatric gesture. "Dax means only one of my parents is a demon. My mother was human. He thinks that makes me less of a demon than him." She blew out a breath. "Stupid demonic prejudices. I suppose they're still alive and well in the twenty-first century."

I watched her dramatic motions and pronouncements, enthralled. I'd never seen someone as animated before, as perfectly movie-like, as her. She turned her gaze to me, and once again, it was cool, all traces of humor removed. "So..." She swiveled around to sit in an armchair so fast I questioned the laws of physics. "You're Dax's little...betrothed." The way she said "betrothed" was a sneer, a condescending allowance. It was clear she couldn't understand what all the fuss was about me.

I didn't know how to answer, so I half-shrugged.

"Hmm." She steepled her fingers and looked at me over the top of them. "My mother, though she was human, was such a beautiful woman. She'd won many a human pageant before Oscar came along and won her over. Most humans betrothed to demons are rather stunning." She emphasized the word "most." Clearly, I was not one of the majority.

"Do female demons also go through betrothal?" I asked, simply because I wanted to say something to which she wouldn't take offense. I could already tell I wasn't Victorine's favorite person, though it baffled me as to why. What on earth did she have to hate me for?

"Yes. And human males die from mating too. When their seed enters the demon female, their soul is ours for the taking." She smiled, and her teeth gleamed in the firelight. Lightning turned the room a purple-white for a split moment. Victorine stared into the fire. "It's why we decided to move here, you know. Dax wanted to make sure we lived in remote places where our contact with the human populace would be limited. The thrall of betrothal is impossible to ignore, and he didn't want to cause harm." She looked back at me, her violet eyes hard, unforgiving. "And then _you_ came along. We'll have to move again, uproot completely, simply because of you."

I tensed as her hands closed around the chair's arms, her beautifully manicured nails ripping into the fabric. It didn't look like she was aware of what she was doing.

Someone cleared their throat, and both Victorine and I looked toward the door. Dax strode in, his brow furrowed as he looked from Victorine and the ruined chair to me. "Is everything all right?" His rough voice was quiet, but a thread of menace lurked just underneath.

"Fine!" Victorine's voice rang out like a cheery bell, and her eyes turned on me, daring me to disagree.

I nodded. There was no point in antagonizing her anymore than I already had. "Sure."

Victorine got up and headed fluidly for the door. "I better go," she said. "Nice meeting you, Cara."

"You too."

I turned to Dax and smiled. "Everything okay?"

The look on his face stopped me cold. His perfect features were tight with anger. "I have to take you home."

"Okay." My heart sank at the thought of leaving him, and I wondered what had brought this on. Had I said something to make him angry? Had he overheard Victorine?

I cast a sideways glance at him as we walked to the door. His shoulders were set, and his jaw clenched. He grabbed an umbrella from the stand by the front door, and as we stepped into the rain, he held it over me, leaving himself uncovered.

I struggled to gather my courage as we walked to my car. He opened the door for me, still sheltering me with the umbrella. Before I got in, I turned to him. "What...what's happened?"

Whatever he saw on my face softened his expression. His eyes turned from hard copper pennies to molten liquid. Putting one blazing palm on my cheek, he said, "Please don't be alarmed. There's just been a...troubling development. But it's nothing I can't handle."

He smiled, but I wasn't deterred. My eyebrows furrowed and my heart began beating faster. "What sort of development? Does it have to do with me?"

"No." But the answer came out too quick, too sudden.

We stared at each other as the rain sheeted down, drenching Dax. I was dry and comfortable under the umbrella, but a sudden gust of wind made me shiver. Something wasn't right. "Please tell me," I whispered.

Dax's palm fell. He sighed. "The hound I killed in the woods yesterday...its master is not happy. He wants to speak with me."

Alarm bells began clanging in my head. "Why?"

Dax looked past me, his eyes turning into pennies again. "Sometimes demons become rather attached to their hounds. And when a hound is killed—and not just killed, but utterly destroyed, like I did to his—they take it as a mark of disrespect."

"But how did he even know the hound was killed? Was he around, too? Did he see?" I thought, irrationally, that if the demon had seen how his hound behaved toward me, he'd understand that it wasn't Dax's fault. He'd only been trying to protect me.

"No." Dax took a deep breath. "But hounds and their masters have a deep connection. You know how I said Shuck could hear me when I thought of him?"

I nodded.

"Well, I'd be able to hear if he was in great pain or if he was being attacked. It's just how our link is. So when this demon—Marion—saw what I did, he was rather enraged. He's contacted us to let us know he'd like to meet." His hand tightened around the umbrella, and I saw a crack form. Dax appeared to make a conscious effort to stop crushing it, but his hand was smoking.

I stared at it. "Is that"—I reached out to touch his hand but had to pull away; it was scorching—"a demon thing? The smoking?"

"Yes," he answered. "Extreme emotion causes it. When it's especially hard to control, we can even set fire to things. Another reason we're dangerous to your kind." He looked hopeful, as if this might be the thing that convinced me to go away.

But I simply nodded. "And Marion—when will he be here?"

Dax looked toward the gates again. "He should be arriving tonight. All the more reason to get you home. Like I said before, chances are he's not a demon like me, Oscar or Victorine. Oscar and I should discuss how to handle him."

I held in a shudder before another question occurred to me. "So demons don't have to be betrothed to someone to take their soul, right? What's special about a betrothed's soul?"

Dax looked off into the rain as he spoke. "A betrothed helps us procreate, spread our seed. But also, a betrothed's soul is the ultimate feast. It's what sates us for centuries afterward. And some demons looking for revenge, well, they like to go after their rival's betrothed just to be vengeful." When he looked back at me, his eyes were spitting sparks.

"Okay." I got in the car. I definitely didn't want to be around this Marion guy. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll get home safely."

He grinned as he folded the umbrella. "I know you will. I'll be following your car."

"Oh." I looked around but didn't see any other vehicles. "What will you be driving?"

He gestured to his glorious body, still grinning. "This."

My eyes widened as I understood. He'd be running behind me. He was fast enough and tireless enough to keep up with my car. Not to mention stealthy enough to not be seen.

He laughed. "A lot to get used to, aren't I?" I could hear the insecurity in his question and it made my heart clench. He was so worried I was going to give up.

"No," I said stubbornly. "I like learning about you."

He shook his head, ruefully. "We'll see how long that lasts," he muttered. And then, louder: "Drive safely, please."

I nodded, and after a long glance that set my stomach turning cartwheels, he closed my car door and watched as I drove away. When I was turned around and pointed in the right direction, I checked my rearview mirror but he was gone.

In my mom's driveway, I got out of my car and looked toward the woods, but there was still no sign of Dax. The air was still and felt compressed, under pressure somehow. I waved, feeling stupid, and then let myself in.

After I'd changed into my own clothes—I'd left mine from this morning drying on Dax's fireplace hearth—I began to pace the living room. My muscles felt packed with nervous energy. I was sure I could jump over the tallest mountain in Eden if I wanted to.

So much had happened—was happening—and I still had to make sense of it all.

Dax really _was_ a demon. There was something incredible, something supernatural and unstoppable, happening between us that we were powerless to stop. He was so convinced that he was bad for me, but I knew without a doubt that he was exactly what my life had been missing until now. Already, his absence hurt like a steel splinter in my foot. It was impossible to ignore, impossible to not acknowledge every single time I took a step.

But being rushed away because a demon was coming to "speak" with him was terrifying. Especially since Marion knew exactly what had happened to his horrible hound. And if his hound had been that awful, that sinister, that evil, what would his master be like? A shudder convulsed through me and my mouth went dry. Was Dax in danger? He hadn't seemed worried, just angry. But would he tell me or let it show if he was truly worried?

As thunder snarled outside, I realized I couldn't sit in the house and just wait for the hours to pass by. I'd go crazy. I needed a distraction. After grabbing my car keys, I ran back out and got back in the Volvo.

I decided to visit Eden's minimart for a pile or two of magazines and maybe even some escapist fiction if I could find it. Poetry was great in tough times, but when I was nervous I needed something that'd help me pass the time.

I parked outside the store fifteen minutes later and went in. The doorbell announced me with a loud ding, and the vaguely-familiar girl behind the counter looked up from her magazine.

" _Cara_?" she asked, her pale blue eyes narrowing. "Cara Beaumont?"

I stopped, my cheeks reddening. I didn't remember her name. "Yeah! Hi!"

"It's Felicity Watkins. Y'all don't remember me, I can tell." She smiled really wide anyway, as if she'd expected me to not have a clue about who she was.

"Wow, Felicity. You look, um...different."

"I had two babies since we graduated high school." She tugged on her blonde ponytail. "Gained some weight, I know."

She'd gained about a hundred pounds. No wonder I hadn't recognized her. But from what I recalled, Felicity was nice, a genuinely warm person.

"Congratulations on the babies," I said, somewhat awkwardly. I wanted to get back to the safety of the house with my magazines, but I felt obligated to ask. "How old are they?"

"Come on now, I know y'all don't wanna hear about that." She laughed. "Tell me what you're doing back in town, woman! I thought your plan was to disappear to Chicago and never come back."

I'd been fairly vocal about my dislike of Eden, but still, I was surprised she remembered, especially since we hadn't exactly been friends.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't find a job. I'm back home with my mom now, just temporarily. You know, until I can get back up on my feet." I wasn't completely sure that would be my plan of action now, not after meeting Dax, but it seemed like something to say that'd end the conversation. I grabbed a few women's magazines at random and placed them on the counter.

"I hear ya," she said, ringing me up. "Damn shame what's come of the economy. I'm barely makin' rent myself."

"It's tough," I agreed, quelling the urge to tell her to go home and lock herself inside safely until tomorrow. Instead, I paid her with cash and waited for my bag.

Felicity looked at me thoughtfully as she handed me my magazines. "You run into any of our classmates yet?"

"No. I just got here two days ago." And I wasn't particularly interested in running into any of them.

"Listen, why don't you come to Old Mac's tonight around eight? We're havin' a birthday celebration for Rosco. You remember him?"

I remembered Rosco. He was a burned-out junkie who dropped out right before graduation. "Um, yeah, sort of. But you know, I'm tired and—"

She shook her head. "Don't you say no yet. Think about it. Okay? I know some of the girls would love to live—what's it called? Vicariously?—vicariously through you. You're the only one that got out, you know."

"All right," I said, desperate for escape. "Thanks for the invite."

When I got back home, there was a shiny black Mercedes parked in the driveway. I parked behind it and off to the side, my heart thumping. Was it Dax? I didn't remember seeing this particular car in his garage, but he had so many...

What if it was Marion? Did demons usually claim their victims using expensive cars?

But then the door was open and Dax stepped out, his eyes immediately finding mine through the windshield. His face relaxed into a smile that stole the air right out of my lungs. I got out of my car, my heart doing a funny dance in my chest, but not from fear this time. I returned his perfect smile with a human version of my own.

"Hi," I said shyly, forgetting everything bad under the weight of his copper gaze. I stood with my hands clamped around the plastic handles of the bag. "Did the talk with Oscar go okay? What are you doing here?" A breeze swirled around us, pushing his wood smoke and spice scent into my nose. I inhaled deeply without thinking about it. "Not that I'm complaining."

His grin grew wider. "I haven't returned home yet. I waited after you went inside and I saw you come back out. I wanted to make sure you got to the shop and back safely, so I followed you." His smile slipped a little. "I hope that's all right."

I blinked. "Um, yeah, that's fine. But I didn't see you following me."

He laughed. "I blend in well."

A black, shiny Mercedes blending in in Eden? I couldn't imagine it. But he'd accomplished it somehow. "Why didn't you just run behind me like before?"

He seemed to be studying my face carefully as he answered. "I don't like to do that when I might be seen. The main road doesn't have much cover like the woods do."

I nodded, trying to absorb this new information. There was so much I had to learn about him; it was like getting used to a new culture. It didn't bother me in the slightest. I felt like I couldn't wait to absorb more, as much as possible, as quickly as possible. "Would you like to come inside?"

He nodded, again. "Yes, please. If you don't object."

He was afraid I might be scared of him inside my house, alone with me. As if. My thoughts were not in the least concerned with my safety. They seemed to be centered more along the idea of me and him, alone, in private...I cleared my throat, my cheeks burning at my own wantonness. "I don't mind at all."

If Dax noticed, he didn't say anything. He merely followed meekly behind me as I stepped up on the porch and unlocked the front door.

Inside, I set my bag down on the coffee table. "Can I get you anything? Water?" I bit my lip. "Do you...um, I mean—"

"Do I drink and eat things humans do?" He smiled his devastating smile, seemingly not the least offended by my question.

I nodded.

"Yes. I don't eat often, but when I do, I eat much more than most men." He shrugged easily, broad shoulders rising and falling in his snug black t-shirt. "But no, thank you. I don't need anything at the moment."

We stood there, studying each other. I took in his lips hungrily, full and firm. They were redder than the average person's, as if he had more blood under his skin than we did.

His nose was perfectly aquiline, and it looked made from golden marble rather than skin—there were no visible imperfections, no moles or bumps so common on human noses. His entire face was that way, crafted as if on purpose to be devastatingly, painfully perfect.

A strand of hair fell on his forehead, dark and shiny, and I had the desperate urge to touch it. I balled my hands into fists and let myself look into his eyes. I'd been saving them—my favorites—for last.

His eyes were done roving my face now and held mine steadily, the copper alight. Heat was starting to waft off of him in my mom's tiny living room, and it was as if I'd thrown three burning logs into the fireplace.

Sweat began to pool at the base of my neck and between my breasts, but it wasn't just the physical heat. That electricity was back, crackling with force between us. His scent filled the room, the house, the world.

I stepped closer tentatively, but Dax stood his ground. His jaw was clenched tight, but his posture—as on that first day—contradicted itself. He leaned in toward me, but the tendons in his forearms stood out, his triceps bulged with the effort of holding himself back.

No such compunction tore at me. I slunk closer to him and then closer still, my head swimming with his spicy, seductive smell, my eyes filled with nothing but copper. I stopped when I was only a few centimeters away, my eyes level with his chest, the heat from his body utterly soaking through my clothes and skin. I tipped my head back so I could drink him in.

His eyes were wide, and I knew he felt what I was feeling, but I couldn't imagine that he experienced the same intensity. It seemed like it would be too crazy, too lucky, if he did. I knew my feelings for him defied any laws of logic or propriety. Humans weren't meant to fall in love like this with anyone else, not so quickly, and not quite so deeply or fully. But I had. I couldn't imagine a world without him, and it didn't matter if a world _with_ him in it didn't make sense. Who needed sense? It was overrated.

"I..." He took a deep breath, as if he was filling his lungs with me. "I need to speak with you about something," he finished finally, his sandpaper voice even rougher, even huskier than usual.

I couldn't take my eyes off his. "Okay," I breathed.

His jaw clenched even tighter. I sensed he wanted to step back, to put some distance between us, to be the one thinking clearly. But I rejoiced when I saw he couldn't seem to bring himself to do it. "Cara," he whispered.

I lifted myself on my tiptoes. His breath was delicious, sweet and smoky; I wanted to breathe as much of it in as I could. Carefully, slowly, I moved my head forward so our lips were only a fraction of an inch apart. All Dax had to do was incline his head toward mine.

I waited there in that agonizing space, with my heart beating between us, frantically, achingly. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted it so badly that I could taste his lips on mine already. His heat seeped through me, engulfing me. But then I blinked and he'd moved back about five paces.

I let myself fall back down onto the flats of my feet. My cheeks burned with humiliation. Didn't he want to kiss me at all? How could he resist? And then I knew, clearly, that of course he didn't feel love the same way I did.

To him, the emotional component of our attraction was new enough that he _thought_ he loved me. He'd said as much at his house. While I believed that he believed that, I didn't think his feelings for me were quite as strong as mine were for him. It was the only explanation for how he'd just separated himself from me so easily. There was no way I could've torn myself from him. No. Way.

I swallowed the ridiculous lump in my throat before I bustled off to the dining room with my bag of magazines. "Just getting...some, um, water."

I slammed the bag down on the table and went into the kitchen. Turning on the faucet, I closed my eyes while my glass filled. I took deep breaths and attempted to collect myself.

When I returned to the living room, I was marginally calmer. Dax was standing in the exact same spot he'd been when I left, his face a mask of concern. I smiled brightly at him. "So. What did you want to tell me?"

"Are you all right?" he asked finally, his voice soft and quiet.

His caring tone made me want to cry again, so I gulped my water and refused to meet his eye. Finally I said, "Yep. So, tell me. What did you want to tell me?" I sat in my dad's old recliner and kept both hands on my glass so he couldn't see how much they were trembling.

He kept looking at me, but finally, he sighed. "I wanted to reiterate that you shouldn't be alone tonight. While Marion's here in Eden, I mean. I'm not sure what his plans are for before and after he speaks with me, and I'm not sure exactly when he'll breach the town line, so..."

I nodded. "Okay."

"I thought maybe you could come up to the house. You can stay in one of the back rooms while we meet with him."

Normally I'd be thrilled at the prospect of being in his house, but now it seemed like he was only doing it out of pity. I didn't want to feel like a fool again, fantasizing about what we might do alone when he was clearly not as into it as I was.

"No," I said. "I have plans. I think I'll keep them."

Concern and curiosity fought it out on his beautiful face. Finally he asked, "And...may I ask what these plans are? For your safety, of course."

My safety. He only didn't want me to get hurt because he'd feel guilty? Is that what he was saying? "My old friend from high school, Felicity, invited me to Old Mac's. It's a mutual friend's birthday," I muttered. There was that stupid lump again.

Dax was silent a long minute. Finally, he nodded. "Very well." He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a white cell phone. "Would you mind terribly carrying this? It's yours now. I forgot to give it to you before."

Was that the newest iPhone? "You don't have to buy me a cell phone," I said. "I can buy one...after I get my first paycheck."

He bit his lip and stared at me. "Please?"

Something about the way he said it melted me. "Sure."

He was near me, pressing the phone into my hand before I could say anything else. "Thank you."

The boiling of my blood had dulled from when Dax had stepped away from me, but now, just the grazing of his fingers against mine set it into high-speed boil mode again. I gasped and a shiver ran through me.

Dax moved back in a blur, his brow furrowed. Finally, he said, "I should be going. Oscar and I need to prepare for Marion. But Shuck will be out in the woods, watching over you. All right?"

I nodded. He let himself out and I held back the tears.

After a tasteless dinner of chicken and vegetables, I sat in front of the TV, watching a show about beavers so I wouldn't have to listen to the silence. How did my mom do this, day after day, year after year? No wonder she worked so much. Sometimes you had to run from the silence you'd created.

I thought about Dax, up on the hill, and Shuck, out there in the woods, guarding me. This whole world was troubling, hard to understand, and gripping in the strangest, most enchanting way.

I tried not to think about how Dax had refused to kiss me—had resisted, somehow, in spite of the almost tactile sexual tension in the air. Sighing, I got up to get dressed. If I sat here, I'd just stew in all that hadn't happened between us.

Heading in to my bedroom, I pulled out the least crumpled of my clothes from the closet. I'd hung up everything earlier, in an attempt to fill up the time. After some deliberation, I chose a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a sparkly red top with cut-outs on the sleeves. As I dabbed on some lip-gloss, nerves niggled deep in my belly. Had Marion arrived? How angry was he, exactly, about his hound? I checked my new cell phone, but there weren't any messages.

Outside, night had wrapped Eden up in its black blanket. Stars shone down through tattered clouds, and a light wind made the hair on my arms stand up. But once I donned my jacket, it was comfortable enough for me to walk to the bar. If I was going to be drinking, I'd rather not risk taking the car. Besides, Shuck was watching over me.

I looked toward the woods. It was absolutely silent, and I knew it had to do with Shuck's presence. I remembered that first night back in Eden, when I'd felt watched. It had been Marion's hound, of course, but I hadn't known that then.

The animals and birds in the woods knew what I hadn't, though, that Shuck didn't belong, wasn't one of them. I could take a shortcut through the woods or just go the long way around and stick to paved roads. He could still watch me from the woods. Remembering just how big Shuck was, I decided to just take the long way.

Twenty minutes later I was at Old Mac's. The outside of the place hadn't changed since I'd left four years ago. I'd never been inside before, though, since I hadn't been old enough. More to the point, there was no one in Eden with whom I'd been close enough to go to a bar.

Taking a deep breath, I walked in.

The din inside was relentless. Country music blared over the speakers, punctuated by raucous laughter and the clacking of pool balls and cues. My lungs filled up with the suffocating cigarette smoke that hung in the air; my nose crinkled automatically from the stench of thick perfume and acrid sweat.

I was looking around for Felicity when I heard, "There she is—Cara!"

Felicity was grinning at me from a table in the back of the bar. By the way she was waving extra-enthusiastically, I guessed she'd already had a few. I walked to the table crammed full of people, feeling a little anxious.

The group was dotted with some familiar faces, but no one I recognized right off the bat. The girls were all in heavy makeup and the guys had facial hair they hadn't had in high school. Besides, I was too preoccupied wondering what they'd think and say—after all, I hadn't made my distaste for Eden any kind of a secret. From middle school on, I'd pulled into my shell, eschewing any connection with Eden, including friends I'd made in elementary school and before.

Now, I waited for the inevitable barrage of, "Oh, so I guess you're _not_ too good for Eden, huh?"

But it didn't come.

Instead, one of the guys, the only clean-shaved one of the group, smiled at me. His dishwater-blond hair was cropped close to his pink skull.

"Hey," he said. "Is Eden just as lame as y'all remembered it or worse?"

Everyone chuckled and the anxiety I'd been feeling loosened a bit. "It's not so bad," I lied, taking a seat next to Felicity. I looked around the table. "You all look different."

They laughed louder then, the guys shoving each other and the girls squealing at their barbaric behavior.

"Doesn't she look so glamorous?" Felicity wrapped her arm around my shoulder like we were old friends. "When she walked into the store this mornin' I about had a heart attack!"

"She looks thin," a girl across the table said. She was slim, with silvery blonde hair and small blue eyes that reminded me of an alligator or a lizard. "Too thin," she muttered under her breath.

It took me a minute, but then I recognized her—Sheila Lawton, the prom queen and daughter of the mayor of Eden. I always thought I'd passed under her radar in high school since I wasn't rich or pretty enough for her circle of friends. Her open hostility confused me.

Before I could reply, though, the clean-shaved guy piped in. "We'll just have to feed her then!" he said. "Some good southern fried chicken oughta do the trick."

I laughed, grateful. He had kind blue eyes, and his smile came easily. He leaned forward as if he was telling me a secret, strong forearms sticking out of his plaid shirt. "Do you remember me?"

I stared at him, my wheels spinning. Why was I so bad at placing faces? But he laughed. "Look at her face, y'all. She's tryin' so hard." He grinned at me. "Don't worry, I wasn't in your grade. Graduated the year before you. James Spellman."

"Right." I actually did remember him now. He'd been a football player until his last year of high school when he'd had an injury. It had been a momentous, sad occasion in Eden, as I recalled. "You look different now." Back in high school he wore his hair long and unwashed, and he'd also been about six inches shorter. Now he looked like he was probably over six feet—but not quite as tall as Dax.

"Yeah, well, growing up will do that to ya." He grinned again, and I found myself smiling back. "I work at the fire department now and part-time for the National Guard. Got to be responsible." He put on a solemn face and then took a big slug of beer. I knew he was joking, but something about the way he said it made me think he missed the more laid back times of high school.

"Where's Rosco?" I asked, looking around. "It's his birthday, right?"

Sheila rolled her eyes across from me. Felicity sighed, and everyone looked shifty and uncomfortable.

"Rosco was supposed to be here," Felicity explained. "But you can't really hang your hat on his word, if you know what I mean."

I looked at her blankly.

"Drugs," she mouthed at me.

Oh. So things really hadn't changed that much.

"No reason _we_ shouldn't have fun," James said, standing up. He held one hand out, dramatically, like we were in a theater production of Romeo and Juliet. "Dance with me, miss?"

I smiled and put my hand in his. "Sure."

Dancing with James came easily, as if I'd been best friends with him before I'd left. We laughed and joked about some of the people we'd known in high school, which teachers had retired, which had stayed and gotten even crazier.

"Do you remember Mr. Whittaker?" he asked as we moved slowly to some mournful ballad. "Dark red hair, big mustache?"

"Of course." He was one of the better teachers in Eden. "Why?"

"He died. Lung cancer."

"Oh no." He'd been only a little older than my mom, with a wife and kids of his own. "That's so sad. Especially for his family."

James got quiet, looking over my head pensively. "I'm sorry," he said softly after a moment, meeting my eye again. "About your daddy. I don't think I ever said that before."

I stiffened in his arms, trying hard not to show how much his words hurt. It still ate at me when people brought my dad up. I could see what they were thinking: _It's her fault. How does she live with herself?_

I forced a smile. "Thanks."

The song ended and I moved away. "I'm going outside for a...smoke break." I didn't smoke, but James didn't know that.

I pushed past the crowd of dancers waiting for the next song to start up and went outside into the cool night air. Sweat began to evaporate off me, and I shivered, wishing I'd brought my jacket.

I leaned against the side of the building and breathed deeply. The fragrance of wet grass and the icy smell of winter curled into my nostrils. The woods were still quiet across the road, and I figured Shuck was still on duty.

The door jingled as someone came out, but I didn't bother looking. Probably just some drunken reveler ready to go home.

"Hey."

I looked toward James and smiled wanly. Oh, great. He was going to talk about my dad some more. And I didn't have a cigarette.

Embarrassed at being caught in my lie, I blushed. "Um, couldn't find a cigarette," I said, patting down my pants. "Must've left them at—"

He came closer, towering over me. Now that I was getting used to Dax's smoldering heat, James felt strangely cool by comparison, even in the chill of the night.

"Cara," he said softly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

I sighed and looked away, back toward the woods. "It's fine," I muttered. "It's not you."

"I wondered after you left, you know," he continued. "If that was why you were so stubborn about getting gone."

I didn't say anything.

A moment later, James spoke again. "Two years ago, there was a pretty big wildfire out on the Blue Ridge mountains." He gestured with his chin toward the range in the distance. "We got called out, like all the departments in nearby cities. There were three casualties." He stopped and cleared his throat, his eyes still locked on the misty swirls that covered the peaks in the distance. "One was from our department. My cousin Roger.

"The day after his funeral, I came home, packed all my stuff into my truck, and took off. I didn't know where I was going or what I was going to do when I got there. I just knew I didn't want to live in Eden anymore. All of a sudden, I was sick of it. Sick of the mountains, the woods, the damn fires we have every year 'cause tourists who don't know their ass from a hole in the ground leave smoldering campfires."

I rubbed my nose. It was ice cold and numb. "Wow. What...how come you came back?"

"I lived out of my truck for a couple of days and then my chief called, asking where the hell I was. Another fire, a smaller one, had broken out. So I came back."

I smiled a little. "Just like that?"

He chuckled. "It sounds 'just like that,' but it was actually a life changing thing. I realized that I could blame myself and hate everyone and hate the job and the city, but when it came right down to it, I needed to be here. I had a job to do. I had a service to provide. And Roger would've wanted me to, no matter what. He'd hate to be the reason I quit." He looked at me, his face serious. "I think your daddy, wherever he is, is probably happy that you're back. That he's not the reason you quit Eden."

I shook my head and pushed off the wall. "He wasn't the reason I left. I left to get away from myself."

"Did it work?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Yeah. It's like they say, you know. Wherever you go, there you are."

I laughed softly. "That's definitely true."

I turned so I could face James. I didn't remember saying more than a sentence here or there to him in high school or before. To be honest, I'd never really given him much thought. It was crazy how friendship could develop years after you'd known a person. It was as if your brain was waiting for you both to mature, for your personalities to line up before it really made the effort to get to know them. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "Sure." There was something serious about his face, and I tensed. I knew that look. "So, are you...seeing anybody?"

Yep, that was what I'd been afraid of.

Dax's gorgeous face popped into my mind. I thought about what he'd told me about betrothal, how insistent he was that he was bad for me. How he said he loved me. That electric charge. How I'd tried to kiss him and he'd pulled away. The lump was back in my throat at the memory of the rejection.

"Sort of," I whispered. "It's complicated. I want to, but he..."

I trailed off, unable to explain the situation. I didn't know _what_ Dax wanted. I didn't know how it was for demons, what love meant to them.

James's face fell, but he recovered quickly. "Well, if you decide he's not worth it, just know there's someone waiting for you." He smiled, but I could see the pain behind it.

My heart hurt for him. I wanted to be friends without any of that other complicated stuff.

"Can I give you a hug?" The question blurted out of me. James had struck a chord. He was just one of the world's genuinely nice people, and I cared about his feelings.

His smile widened. "Of course." He stepped forward and bent down so I could wrap my arms around his neck. Even with heels on, it was a reach. When I stepped back, he smoothed a curl off my forehead, his fingers lingering on my skin a moment longer than necessary.

"I better go," I said, feeling myself flush. Had hugging him given him the wrong impression? Dammit, I was totally screwing this up. "I have an early morning tomorrow."

"Okay," he said. "Do you want me to walk you home?"

"No, that's all right," I said. "I'm just going to take a shortcut through the woods."

"If you're sure," he said, crestfallen again. "See you soon."

"Definitely." I smiled. "Here." I handed him my new cell phone. "Put your cell number in there. I'll call you."

He brightened as if I'd given him the best birthday and Christmas presents combined.

I made my way through the woods. It was eerie, not hearing anything except the pressing silence, like I had cotton batting against my eardrums. My heart pounded hard and loud, my body uncomfortable with the eerie quiet.

I glanced around over and over again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Shuck so I could wave or tell him to come so I could pet him...if that was the sort of thing you could do with a Hellhound. In any case, he kept his distance, so I pulled my jacket close and walked through the rolling mist.

Eden really was beautiful. The Spanish moss that hung low from the tree branches, glistening with dew, the thick roots of trees sprouting up through the ground, twisting and tangling together in a lover's dance. It was—

My breath whooshed out of my lungs in one swift exhalation. I didn't have time to scream. I didn't even really have time to think.

One moment my feet were firmly on the ground, and the next I was traveling vertically up through the air, up into the thick branches of the tall oak tree, someone's steel trap arm around my waist, scalding skin seeping its heat through my jacket and the top underneath.

Marion.

It had to be. He'd found me and now I was his. No one would even hear me scream way out here.

A moment later, I was standing on a thick branch twenty feet off the ground, my back pressed into a tree trunk three times as wide as me. I found myself looking into a beautiful demonic face, but it wasn't Marion's. It was Dax's features I was drinking in.

His copper eyes burned into mine, shining in the moonlight. The heat wafting off of him turned my muscles to liquid. He had a smile on his face—half-mischievous and half-smirk—possibly at my incredible mortal slowness. I hadn't even been able to react in the time it had taken him to snatch me and spirit me up the tree.

He leaned in toward me, so close our noses were almost touching. His wood smoke scent intoxicated me, and without even thinking about it, I breathed him in. His smile widened.

"Surprised?" he asked, his voice a deep, throaty rumble that made something in my belly ignite.

"What...what?" I wasn't able to manage any more than that, with the proximity of his skin to mine.

He wore a dark button down shirt and jeans that rode low on his hips, his golden skin flushed with pleasure. His eyes held mine steadily and constantly without any qualms, not at all like humans who had to look away every four seconds during a conversation. But Dax didn't follow any such norms. He stared at me like he wanted to devour me. And I liked it.

"I'm kidnapping you," he whispered, his breath sweet and tantalizing. His pupils dilated as he said the words, his scorching hands running up and down my arms. My skin, through layers of fabric, seemed to blaze as if it were on fire.

I struggled to maintain a semblance of rational thinking but my hormones were taking over, that incredible electric attraction between us incinerating any resolve I had to not show just how badly I wanted him. I leaned in farther, pressing my body against his.

The heat was overpowering. It felt like stepping into a sauna, or too close to a bonfire. In the chilly night, it was the most delicious pleasure. "Why?" I asked finally, making sure to inject some pique into the question. I knew stepping back just a touch would make my point much better than my body pressed up against his, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. My need for him was physical, mental, spiritual. "At my mom's house, you didn't seem to..." I trailed off, blinking and looking away as his hands stilled on my elbows.

"What?" He asked, his voice low but urgent. "Seem to what?"

The stupid lump was back in my throat. "I wanted to kiss you," I whispered, my gaze automatically going to his perfect, velvet lips and then back up to his eyes. "But you didn't even want to be near me." I swallowed, my voice cracking pathetically on the last part of my sentence.

His hands tightened just the slightest bit around my elbows then, and I could tell he was restraining himself, trying hard not to be too rough with me. His jaw was tense, his expression somewhere between fury and sorrow. "Are you distressed? Because of me?"

I sighed and leaned my head against his chest, my heart thumping wildly when he didn't move away or make me stop. His own heart was trotting along, much faster than any human's heart would ever be. Heat blazed through the fabric of his shirt and almost singed my skin.

"Not because of _you_ ," I murmured. "Because of myself. I just...I want you so badly. And I don't just mean in the physical sense, although that's enough to drive me crazy." I chuckled softly, but he was quiet, waiting for me to continue. "I guess it's because of the betrothal thing, but it's like I can't function without thinking of you. You're on my mind all the damn time. When you're near me, I want to be touching you, I want to be _with_ you, connected to you.

And then, when I tried to kiss you, you backed away. I knew then that—" I cleared my throat, embarrassed. "I knew then that you don't feel the same way. Your...I know you called it _love_ , but I'm not sure if it is, not in the human sense anyway. In any case, your feelings for me aren't as ardent as mine are for you." His hands tightened a little again, and in spite of the sharp pain in my elbows, I continued. "I shouldn't find that so incredibly hurtful, honestly. You're...you're on another plane, Dax. You're beautiful, immortal, perfect. And I'm just me. It's natural that you wouldn't—"

"Stop." He didn't raise his voice, but it was undeniably a command. I pulled my head back to look at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes on fire. "Don't _ever_ say that."

"Say what?" I asked, intimidated by the way he was looking at me—livid, upset, furious.

"That I'm not as ardent as you are. That my _love_ "—he practically stamped the word into my mind with the force he used to say it—"is anything less than what humans experience." He pulled me closer, his hands on my lower back. He dipped his head so our lips were just barely touching, his velvet skin whispering against mine as he spoke. "You. Are. My. Betrothed."

I drank in his words greedily, my mind spinning in the haze his sweet words created.

"Do you understand what that means?" He continued to speak with his lips on mine. The sensation of his lips and stubble, his heat—all of it was driving me crazy. A breeze rustled through the leaves, wrapping me up in his fragrance. "It means I would rather die than see one single hair on your head harmed. It means I will do anything to keep you safe in this parallel universe into which I've pulled you. It means loving you and not killing you is a painful dichotomy I must deal with somehow."

Blood pulsed through my veins as if it were gasoline and Dax's voice fire, igniting until my soul burned. "But I thought...I thought that betrothal for you, for demons, was mainly physical. That the whole point was to mate with a human and steal their soul. How could your emotional connection be anything like mine when you're meant to kill me?"

He pulled back and was already shaking his head before I was done talking. "I spoke with Oscar and... I suppose there are a few more things you should know. There are several different types of demons, different races. They're sort of like nationalities in humans."

I frowned at this seeming change of subject. "Okay."

"Each demon race has a different power. I'm what they call a Beleth demon. It means I have the capacity to cause feelings of love in my targets. To make stealing souls easier, I suppose."

"Oh." Boy, was I a willing target, in that case.

"Allegedly, there's some fine print about Beleth demons and their betrothed that I didn't know." He took a deep breath, like he was trying to steady himself. "With the other types of demons, it's absolutely true that their betrothals are purely physical and nothing else. But there've been instances in history where the Beleth forms an equally potent link with his human betrothed as his betrothed does with him. And the feelings between the two are about a thousand times stronger than what humans experience. We don't just mate for life, Cara. We mate for eternity."

_For eternity._ The words echoed in my ears, in my mind, in my soul. Dax was in love with me. And almost better: Dax was mine for eternity. He wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I stared at him in wonder, a small smile playing on my lips. "Really?"

"Really." His eyes were clear, true. "At your house...Cara, this is so new to me. I've never before felt so utterly powerless in someone else's presence. And to think of the harm I could do you if we lost ourselves." He shook his head and looked away. "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. There, in your house, it seemed all too easy. I could smell you, and in that enclosed space, I could almost taste you." When he met my gaze again, his eyes glowed. His skin was heating up—I was starting to sweat. "I _wanted_ to taste you. I wanted to have you in my arms, without clothing creating a barrier between us. I wanted to feel you—every part of you."

Every inch of my skin was on fire. I had never been more aware of my body than in that moment, still pressed up against the hard planes of his, feeling his arousal so clearly against me. "I wanted that, too," I whispered. And I wanted it right then. If he'd asked me, I would've given myself willingly in those woods, in that little universe on the big oak tree.

Dax put his hands up to my face, his scorching fingers gently rubbing over my eyebrows, my chin, my cheeks. "But don't you see?" His breath blew across my face. "That's dangerous. Entirely too dangerous." His eyes devoured my face, drinking in the shape of my lips, the color of my eyes. I was so utterly bared to him. I had let Dax in, deep inside me, where nothing was hidden. "You're too precious to me."

"Why...why are you telling me this now?" I said, struggling to keep my mind on the conversation.

His eyes sparked with anger. The muscles in his jaw clenched. "I saw you speaking with that mortal boy at the bar. And I heard what he said, about courting you." He took a deep breath. "I suppose I should thank him for bringing me to my senses. It about drove me mad to hear the yearning in his voice; it made me realize what Oscar said is true. I am absolutely, completely in love with you, Cara. And I'm unwilling to let anyone else try to win you over, selfish as that may be." He looked genuinely remorseful.

I smiled and shook my head. It was amazing that he still didn't see how mutual that feeling was. "No one else could win me over." I snuggled back into his chest. "You're the only one I want, Dax. Without question."

His arms tightened around me gently, his warmth infiltrating every cell. I sighed, completely at ease.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his tone tense and tight, as if so much relied on my response.

I didn't hesitate. "Without question," I repeated.

"In that case..."

I pulled back to look at his face, confused.

He reached into his pocket and came out with his fist closed around something. "Will you accept a gift? A token of my love?"

I frowned. This was probably something much too expensive. "You don't have to give me anything."

"I know I don't have to," he said gently, smiling. He looked so painfully beatific in the moonlight, like an angelic apparition, something ethereal and fleeting. "But I wholeheartedly want to. Please?"

My heart melted into a puddle and trickled into my stomach. I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from his soft copper gaze. He flipped his fist over and opened it.

My breath caught in my throat. The piece of jewelry glinting in his hands was more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen, even browsing the Tiffany's catalog. I couldn't tell if it was a necklace or a bracelet, since it had pooled in the center of his big hand.

The metal caught the moonlight and twinkled. It was soft, rose-toned silver, a hue I'd never seen before. The pattern of the chain was intricate, like finely woven lace.

"It's gorgeous." The sentence came out in an embarrassingly girlish whisper.

Dax had the bracelet around my wrist in another blink of an eye. He did the clasp gently and then took my hand, extending my arm so he could see the bracelet on me.

"It suits you," he declared smugly. "As if it were made just for you and no one else. Don't you think?"

I thought the bracelet was so beautiful that it would've looked just as gorgeous on anyone else. But I was glad it was mine. "Where did you get it?"

"From my parents." His tone was abrupt. I could tell I wasn't supposed to ask about them, so I didn't. "It's many hundreds of years old. Do you really like it?" He ran his fingers along it and my skin burned where he touched me.

"I promise." I marveled at its ancient beauty. I looked back up into his eyes and caressed his face gently. He closed his eyes, his expression blissful. "Thank you."

He leaned down, his lips coming closer to mine. I held my breath without meaning to, anticipating the burning that would only half have to do with his temperature.

When his lips closed over mine, I snaked my arms around his neck, and fisted my fingers in his gorgeous, thick hair. I pressed my body closer to his, my lips opening hungrily, our tongues meeting, tangling together.

Dax's hands traveled slowly up and down my back and then slid to my waist. He was gentle with his mouth, tasting me, nibbling so softly on my lower lip. When I broke off to catch my breath, sweating from the heat he put off, he slipped his full lips down to my throat and kissed his way to my collarbone, nibbling along its width. A soft moan escaped from my throat.

His head jerked up, his pupils so dilated his eyes looked black. He was almost painfully hot now, but I resisted the urge to move back the fraction of an inch that the tree branch would allow.

"You are so damn irresistible," he said, his every muscle tense. "You have no idea how much I'm restraining myself at this moment."

"Maybe..." I tried to catch my breath. "Maybe you _shouldn't_ restrain yourself."

He inhaled quickly, his eyes wild, as if he was seriously considering it. But then he put his hands on my elbows and pulled me off him, moving me gently back as much as was possible in that tight space.

He chuckled. "You may not be thinking straight, but it's essential that one of us does." He planted a soft, quick kiss on my forehead. The skin there tingled like I'd held a match to it.

I opened my mouth to complain, but was interrupted by a beep. Dax pulled his phone—just like mine, but black—out of his pocket and looked at it.

"It's Oscar," he said. "He says Marion's close; he must've called the house. I should return." He looked over his shoulder and then back at me. "Shuck's back in the woods. He'll make sure you get home safely."

"What time is it?" I asked, the world and my responsibilities coming back into focus.

"Almost eleven o'clock."

"I should pick my mom up." She'd be getting off work and driving home by herself. I didn't like the idea of her out alone when Dax feared for my safety. If there was a dangerous demon in Eden, I didn't want her unprotected either.

Dax frowned, but he knew I wouldn't be deterred. "I'll have Shuck follow you through the woods next to the highway as you drive. But since the diner isn't bordered by the woods, he might not have the time to sprint across the road and into the parking lot if something out of the ordinary should happen."

"But Marion's going to be at your house, isn't he? And unless there's something you haven't told me, he can't be in two places at once." I smiled at my pathetic joke, but Dax didn't return it.

"You're right," he said thoughtfully. "But will you hurry? Make absolutely no stops along the way?"

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed the corner of his mouth, my heart leaping wildly in my chest. "I promise."

He closed his eyes again and then shook his head, as if he was trying to clear it. "It's amazing," he said, staring deep into my eyes, "how you can do that. Just completely clear my head of any sane thought process."

I laughed. "You have the same effect on me, believe me."

He grasped me to him and kissed me furiously. When he finally released me, he smirked at my gasping, incoherent exclamations. Then, in another blink of an eye, we were speeding down the tree trunk and he was placing me gently on my feet, one hand still at my waist to steady me.

I put a hand to my head. "Wow. Maybe a warning next time would be good."

He laughed. "Come on. I'll walk you home."

"No, I'll just slow you down. Go. I'll be safe with Shuck."

He hesitated, but then looked over his shoulder, communing with his hound. When he turned back to me, his expression was much more confident. "All right. He promises he won't let you out of his sight."

I smiled. "So he talks back?"

"Of course." His grin was mischievous. "Don't all dogs?"

I laughed, and just like that, he was gone.

I parked outside Irma's diner, whose official name was Dine Fine, but no one called it that. I wasn't even the least bit nervous about Marion because I knew Shuck was watching. My mind kept replaying images from what had happened on the tree, the words Dax had said, and I had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling like an idiot.

A quick glance at my dashboard clock told me it was a little past eleven. Mom had been working the eleven to eleven shift forever. After Dad died, she'd often leave the house early just so she could spend more time there. I guess it was the one place she didn't feel his absence.

At ten past, I hopped out of the car to let her know I was waiting. If I didn't, she might decide to stay until her shift started again at eleven the next morning.

I loitered at the edge of the parking lot, facing the woods across two lanes of highway, wondering if I should call out to Shuck to tell him what I was doing. But he could probably see me even though I couldn't see him. Right? Just in case, I pulled out my cell phone to fool the last of the stragglers in the parking lot and said, "I'm going inside to get my mom. Be right back!"

When I opened the door, the smell of fried food and coffee hit me in the face like a hammer. Almost instantly, I was transported back to middle school. I remembered coming here to sit and do homework while I waited for my mom to get off work. That was before my dad died, back when she'd actually cared about things like being home when school got out and making family dinners.

I waved to Mom and she waved back from behind the counter. She didn't look especially surprised to see me, nor did she look happy or unhappy. She just simply was, like those highly specialized robots in Japan. They looked lifelike until you _really_ watched them from up close.

I walked up to the counter and sat on a sticky bar stool. "I'm here to pick you up tonight. Hope that's okay."

She stared at me blandly for a second. "Why?"

I shrugged and fiddled with the napkin holder. "Just because. You're almost done, right?"

"So there she is!" I looked past my mom and saw Irma, walking toward me from the kitchen. She was even more bent over than the last time I'd seen her, four years ago. Her hair was completely silver, and her wrinkles more pronounced, but her face was just as open and kind. "And how are you, Cara, darlin'?"

"I'm well, Miss Irma." I smiled. "You look pretty as usual."

"Now isn't that nice." She patted her small, wispy hair bun in an exaggerated gesture. Winking at me, she put a hand on my mom's shoulder. Even though Mom wasn't much taller than my five feet four inches, Irma had to reach up to do it. "Your sweet girl's waitin' on you, Grace. Why don't y'all go on home?"

"I have to do the dishes first," Mom said in a monotone. "Then I have to cash out the register."

"Well, now, I can do that for one night," Irma said kindly. "Don't keep your girl waitin' too long."

A frown creased between Mom's eyebrows. "I always do it. It's my job."

I sighed. "It's all right. You can finish up, Mom. I'll wait outside, okay?"

She turned and went off to the kitchen. Irma and I exchanged a glance when the swinging door had closed behind her.

"Bless her heart," Irma murmured. Then, turning to me, she said, "So. Finished college, did you?"

"Yes. Didn't help much with my job prospects, though." I twirled my keys nervously in my hands, thinking of Dax up on the hill, talking to Marion.

"Ah, well. Your mama says you got yourself a good job anyhow."

I looked at her, surprised. "Mom said that?"

"Mm hmm. She talks about you." Irma rubbed her back and leaned over the counter. "She may be broken, Cara, but she ain't forgotten her love for you. And don't _you_ forget that."

I blinked rapidly, tears threatening right behind my eyelids. It was a moment before I could speak again. "Right. Well, I guess I better go. Let you get back to your chores."

"All right." Irma smiled kindly. "Y'all take care now."

I walked outside, still staggered that my mom actually mentioned me to other people. I didn't know she even registered what I said to her, let alone that she actually cared enough to relay the information to others. I stood at the edge of the parking lot again, looking toward the woods. Since there was no one else out there besides me, I spoke out loud. "Going back in the car now, Shuck."

I got in and sat at the wheel for a moment, looking toward the diner. Then I slid my phone out of my pocket. Maybe I'd text Dax, see how it was going.

I had three unread text messages from him and a missed call. My ring tone must be set to silent.

Cara, are you home?

You should be home by now.

Marion could be headed your way. I'm coming.

My hands started to shake. I set the phone down and started to open my door so I could get my mom when a soft voice spoke from the back seat. "I wouldn't do that, my dear."

I jumped and turned in my seat, my heart slamming itself against my ribcage, a muffled shriek making its way out of my throat.

The man in the backseat was tall and thin, but his forearms jutted with tendons that looked like steel cables. There was something menacing about him without being obvious—maybe the way his coal black eyes were slit as he looked at me, or the way his pale skin seemed almost translucent. His dark brown hair hung to his shoulders in a tumble of waves.

"Do as I say and this will all go well," he said in a voice like oiled steel—smooth, with an underlying hard edge.

I sat there, my sweaty hands twisted in my lap, hoping that my mom wouldn't choose this moment to come out. If he was taking me, I'd go. I didn't want to think about what he'd do to her if she interrupted. Or to sweet Irma. My heart raced even faster at the thought of her getting hurt.

"Turn around and drive," Marion ordered. "Head north on the highway."

My mouth was completely dry as I started the car, but cold sweat beaded on my lip and at my hairline. I thought about Dax, about him coming for me. He'd find me. I had to believe he'd find me. But even as I sped north, toward who-knew-where, I knew it would be a miracle if he did.

"So you're the one," Marion mused. "He tried to speak of you so casually, but I knew better. There was something about his tone that said you weren't just any mere mortal. And then, of course, I saw your clothing at his house, caught your scent, and it all became clear. You're his _betrothed_."

My hands tightened around the wheel. He meant my clothes from when I'd gotten soaked in the rain. Why hadn't I remembered to pick them up? "What do you w-want from me?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but my lips felt like they were stuck together, my throat lodged with broken glass.

"Only everything your demon would take, my dear," he said politely. "He must be taught a lesson, after all."

Fifteen miles outside Eden, Marion had me pull off the highway and drive through a small clearing in the woods. When we were sheltered enough by trees so no one passing by could see us, he got out of the car, opened my door, and stood aside.

"Out." A touch of impatience colored his tone. He bounced on the balls of his feet as if he had energy enough to run a marathon.

He directed me down a few yards deeper, into a thicket of trees. The wildlife had fallen silent once we'd begun to walk, perhaps sensing the danger in their midst.

I stood there, shivering in the fog and cold breeze. Marion's black eyes glinted in the moonlight, and when he smiled widely, his teeth glowed. I remembered that his hound, too, had had the same eerie type of phosphorescence, and shuddered at the memory. Marion said he wanted to do everything to me that Dax would do. It was clear he meant he wanted to kill me and take my soul.

He circled me, the wind blowing his hair back and around him. His black leather coat and black pants fitted his villainous identity, something I would've found funny at any other time. But it didn't strike me as particularly amusing in the moment.

Dax, where are you?

"Let me go," I said when he'd come full circle to stand in front of me again. "Dax will find you and he _will_ kill you."

But Marion only chuckled. "That'll be a change from the composed façade I saw tonight then, won't it? But to be honest, I don't think he will. I think he's too afraid, too...cowardly. Living a life of good will toward humans." He snorted, as if the idea was ludicrous. "So here's what I'm going to do. I'll mate with you, and then I'll take your soul. It won't be enough to nourish me more than a few months, I'm sure, and I'll have to kill again. But ah, such is the life of a demon." He shrugged and grinned.

I shuddered violently at what he said. He wanted to mate with me? No, I thought, clenching my fists. No, no. He wouldn't do that. I wouldn't let him.

Marion laughed as if he could read my mind. "There's no point in fighting it," he said reproachfully. "You'll only make things worse for yourself."

And with that, he was on me. Before I could even process what was happening, I was on my back, pinned to the forest floor, Marion's blazing body on top of me. He held himself off enough so I wasn't crushed, but he wasn't anywhere near as gentle as Dax.

I couldn't breathe.

I began to kick, up and out, but then he repositioned himself so my legs weren't free anymore. I took a swing at him when I had an opening, but my fist bounced off his face without causing a hint of damage. Pain exploded in my hand instead, and stars bloomed across my vision.

Marion laughed uproariously, as if we were enjoying a good game of wrestling. "Oh, but you are spirited, aren't you? Most mortals just lie still when they realize what I am." He yanked my hair back and brought his face close to mine. He reeked of damp earth and moss, secret and dark. My nose burned. "I think I'm going to enjoy you. Yes, indeed." His black eyes began to glow an iridescent, deep purple, and his skin blazed even hotter. My skin burned agonizingly where he touched me. I would've been writing in pain if I could've moved at all.

Instead, I opened my mouth and screamed.

"Scream all you want." His scorching hands trailed to the waistline of my pants. "No one's out here to hear you."

"Are you sure about that?"

I gasped and my heart soared at the beautiful sandpaper voice I knew so well. Marion began to turn around, but before I could push him off, he was ripped off me.

There was a thunderous crash as he slammed into a tree on the far side of the thicket. A large branch broke off with an earsplitting crack and pieces of bark rained down on him where he lay.

Dax stood in front me, crouched and ready to spring. Marion got back up on his feet, but he wasn't fast enough. Dax crashed into him, and they rolled before Dax got up on top. Even from a dozen feet away, I could see Dax's hands steaming. The heat wafting off the both of them turned the cold night balmy.

With a roar that was equal parts fury and outrage, Dax put his hands on either side of Marion's head. Marion's eerie purple eyes went wide, and then a moment later, his head turned completely to dust. His body went still.

Dax turned to me and sprinted forward in a blur. His eyes were gentle, his jaw tense. "Cara," he said softly, his hands outstretched. "Oh, Cara. I am so sorry."

A sob flew from me as he gathered me into his arms. His body was much, much hotter than usual, still burning from his rage, but it felt so good. It was exactly what I needed in that moment. The blood in my veins seemed to have turned to slush; my breath was dry ice. Dax wrapped me up in his arms, rocking me gently. "It's all right," he said. "You're safe. You're safe now, my love."

I couldn't stop shivering. "How...how did you find us?"

Dax rubbed my arms with his hands, and my goosebumps began to slowly recede. "Shuck saw your car begin to drive down the highway. He can't communicate with me from great distances, but once I got down the hill, I heard him. I went in the direction he said, and then it wasn't hard to find your scent. I'm attuned to it so finely." He squeezed my waist gently. "I'm so sorry I jeopardized your safety."

"You didn't do anything," I said. "It was just bad timing."

He shook his head, the muscle in his jaw clenched. "No. I will never make that mistake again. The next time, you will be with me."

There was a ripping sound, and I jumped. Shuck was over by Marion's body, tearing off pieces of him. I shuddered again, and Dax pulled my head back into his chest.

"Taking care of the evidence. He feels guilty he couldn't do more for you. He couldn't scent Marion because the scoundrel took the long way around the woods to get to your car."

"Tell him it's not his fault," I said. "You warned me he couldn't be close to me at the diner." I took a deep, shuddering breath. "I need to go pick up my mom. She's probably wondering what happened to me."

Dax shook his head, stroking my hair. "I drove by your place on the way here, and her van was already in the driveway."

I wondered if my mom had simply forgotten that I was supposed to have been waiting outside for her. "Hey. How did you know Marion was headed for me? I got your texts, but it was too late."

"It was only an inkling. I saw his gaze fall on the clothes by the hearth, and I realized he must've been able to put the pieces together. He'd smell your human scent, and combined with the way I was compelled to protect you from his hound, well...he didn't have to be a genius to understand that you're my betrothed. And I knew the vengeful bastard would come after you."

Before I could respond, Dax stiffened and then turned toward Shuck. "Wait here a minute, please," he said, his voice strained. "I need to look at something."

I stood rooted to the spot as he went toward where Shuck stood, a piece of gleaming flesh at his feet. Dax leaned down and stared at something, then pulled out his phone and took a picture.

When he came back to me, his face was grim.

"What is it?" I asked, my pulse hammering in my throat.

"Marion was part of a clan," he said. I could tell he was trying to control his tone so he wouldn't alarm me.

I swallowed. Fear was beginning to thrum in my chest. Something was very wrong. "And what does that mean for us?"

"That means," Dax said, his eyes beginning to shine with fury, "that they'll come looking for us soon."

In the morning of life, when its cares are unknown,

And its pleasures in all their new lustre begin,

When we live in a bright-beaming world of our own,

And the light that surrounds us is all from within;

Oh, it is not, believe me, in that happy time

We can love as in hours of less transport we may: --

Of our smiles, of our hopes, 'tis the gay sunny prime,

But affection is warmest when these fade away.

\- _In the Morning of Life_ , Thomas Moore

I stood on a cliff with my dad.

His back was to the edge, mist's white fingers poking and prodding him. His expression was beatific, and his glasses glinted in the meager sunlight. Tufts of hair poked up around his head, waving lightly in the breeze.

"I'm scared, Dad." I clenched fistfuls of my sweater in damp hands and looked behind me. Something was creeping up, silently stalking me, but I couldn't see what it was yet. Trees hulked over the slender path, obscuring my view.

"The soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears." My father's lips kept moving long after the sentence was done, as if I were watching a badly dubbed movie.

"Dad?" I stepped forward, but the mist was already wrapping itself around him, obliterating him part by part. He stood there, looking steadily at me, until the only things not covered were his eyes. As I watched, they went from brown to a dull, flat black and then to a glowing, deep iridescent purple.

I woke up drenched in sweat. A quick glance at my alarm clock told me it was seven o'clock, but the light filtering in through my blinds was gray. I peeked through the mini-blinds and my suspicions were confirmed—another storm was blowing in.

I sank back down on the bed and rubbed my face, trying to push the tiredness out of my eyes. What had my dad said in the dream? "The soul of its sweetness is drawn out by tears." I had the vaguest notion that it was a line from a Thomas Moore poem, but I wasn't sure. That didn't matter; my bookshelf would have the answer.

As I suspected, I had a battered copy of classic poems, and Thomas Moore's work was in there. The poem was called _In the Morning of Life_ , and it talked about how life is best appreciated through its trials. Was that a portent of things to come? Had my dad been trying to tell me that I had to weather this storm and then things would be fine?

I set the book back and sighed. It was just a dream; images concocted by my traumatized brain because I'd been kidnapped by a demon. And now that I'd been informed he was part of a larger clan—a clan that would probably come looking for revenge—it was only normal that I'd be freaking out a bit. I pushed those thoughts away. I'd deal with them when I was safely ensconced in Dax's mansion. My heart thrilled at the thought, my mood lightening even though we had so much to discuss about the possible upcoming dangers.

After brushing my teeth, I padded into the silent, dark kitchen. Mom must still be asleep. I flipped on the lights so I could make coffee, and was barely able to bite back a scream. Mom sat at the table, nursing a cup of coffee. Except the coffee was just sitting in front of her while she stared into the cup.

One hand on my chest, I tried to bring my breathing down to a more natural rhythm so I wouldn't faint. "Mom?"

She jumped, seeming almost as surprised to see me as I was to see her. She was in her gray polyester waitress uniform, the embroidered "Grace" on her chest pocket flaunting the name she'd had in another life.

"What are you doing?" I poured a cup of coffee from the pot she'd made and went to sit by her.

"I have work," she answered, looking back into her cup unsurely. After a pause, she took a sip.

"What time do you have to be there?"

"Eleven."

It was barely past seven o'clock. My heart clenched in pain at the thought of my mom, dressed and ready to go hours before her shift all these years that I'd been at college, just sitting alone in the dark. She was counting down time until she could join my dad wherever he was, just waiting for her body's clock to wind down and stop. I swallowed, hard, so I could speak again.

"Mama..." I paused, considering what I'd been thinking since I'd got home. "How would you like to see a therapist?" I'd majored in psychology in college, and had come to appreciate how much good talk therapy really did people like my mom. We'd never gotten her any help after dad had passed away. Sure, there were no psychologists in Eden, but we could go to a nearby bigger city. I'd even drive her there and back and pay for it.

She looked at me, her eyes blank as ever.

"It might do you good to get out all the stuff about...about your pain," I said softly, gripping my coffee mug hard. Why had I ever left her here alone? I should've made her come with me to college, insisted on it. Had I been that much of a selfish brat four years ago that I hadn't seen how abandoning her in this place would change her?

But she didn't respond, and after a while, I pushed myself back from the table. "I better go finish getting ready for work."

When I came back out forty minutes later, she was gone. I wondered if she planned to just sit in the kitchen of Irma's diner until her shift started.

I wasn't technically due at work until nine a.m., but today was a special day. Dax, Oscar, Victorine and I were going on a field trip of sorts.

My heart sped up predictably when I got to the plateau at the top of the hill and began to drive through the wrought iron gates. I'd be seeing Dax in just a few minutes.

It had been less than a week since my encounter with Marion, and we'd seen each other every day and every night since then.

Oscar had been training me to manage Dax Allard Enterprise's various charity accounts. I'd be in charge of everything social to do with Dax's philanthropic endeavors now, since he was too grouchy to go to all the luncheons and grand openings that'd be expected of a donor in his league.

Usually we hardly spent time together during work hours, since neither of us could concentrate very well in the other's presence. I was his betrothed, and since he was a Beleth demon, that meant he was in love with me. Only, his feelings for me were a million times stronger than what humans felt when they were in love because he was a supernatural being. And of course, I knew from my own pathetic need for him that I was in a similar grip of emotion.

Even though we were going on a trip today, I had to drive my car up the hill to keep up the pretense for my mother, just in case she decided to ask questions (however unlikely that might really be). But in truth, Oscar, Dax, Victorine, and I would be leaving to speak with a "source" just as soon as I got up there.

I parked in the driveway of the gigantic mansion and got out to stretch my legs. It was a beautiful November day, chilly and hauntingly beautiful in the mist. I realized that I was optimistic about what we'd learn from this source. Maybe Marion was part of a small clan, one with wimpy demons that could easily be defeated by Dax and Oscar. Was it seeing my dad and hearing his words in my dream that had given me this little push?

I took a deep, calming breath and leaned back into the car to get my cell phone out. When I turned around, Dax stood right behind me, his wood smoke and spice scent immediately curling into my nostrils and making my head swim. My heart raced as erratically as a drunken horse, but I managed a smile. "You shouldn't sneak up on mortals like that. We're prone to heart attacks."

He chuckled, and his scorching-hot hand came up to my face. His copper eyes immediately got darker as he studied my features intently, not at all used to being nonchalant and "cool" like human guys were wont to do. Dax played by his own rules. "You're beautiful in the morning." His deep, rough, sandpaper voice made my stomach flip flop. "I am so lucky."

The genuine awe in his voice made me laugh and shake my head. "You have that wrong, actually." I leaned my cheek into his hand, letting the heat seep deep, right into my molecular structure. "I'm the lucky one."

"I wish we could stay like this all day, but Oscar will wonder about us." He stepped back and let his hand drop. My cheek was immediately way too cold.

"Okay." I followed him up the stairs, entwining my hand with his, feeling his big, dense bones like steel under his flushed skin. He held my hand like it might break—and if he accidentally squeezed too hard, it just might. But I trusted Dax completely. I knew there was no way in hell—pun intended—he'd hurt me, even though his every last fiber screamed out for my soul.

We walked into the giant garage that was set back from the mansion's grounds. It held several shiny vehicles, all of which looked more expensive than most homes in Eden. Dax led me to the black Range Rover Oscar had driven before and opened the back door for me. I got in and realized that Oscar and Victorine were already in the front seats. I hadn't been able to see them through the tinted windows.

Oscar turned, smiling, as Dax slid in beside me. His incredibly pale blue eyes—like ice with a slight azure tint—twinkled. "Good morning, Cara."

"How are you?"

"I'm well, thank you. Are you ready for our adventure?"

"Um, I think so. Though Dax hasn't really told me much about where we're going." I smiled at Victorine, but she was already turning back around, her perfect blonde curls bouncing with the motion. She didn't care for me too much, ostensibly because she thought Dax was going to kill me and they were going to have to go on the lam, creating a new life in another part of the world. But I had a feeling there was more than just that underneath her violent disdain for me, though what that could be, I had no idea.

Dax chuckled as Oscar sped out onto the plateau and back down the hill. He drove much faster than any human would dare to in Eden's wooded, hilly areas, but his reflexes were no comparison for ours.

"Patience, dear one." Dax put his hand on my knee.

I immediately felt that electricity crackle through me, zipping through my veins, turning my blood to steam. Dax withdrew his hand as though he'd been shocked, too, the smile slipping off his face, his pupils darkening. It was always like that for us—the slightest touch brought the most intense physical reactions. I knew why it was; we were meant to mate, to create a demon halfling, and my soul was meant to sate Dax's thirst for centuries. The physical reaction was just a nice side effect of all that.

I drew a shaky breath, trying to collect my thoughts. What had we been talking about? Oh, yeah. The field trip. "I'm trying to be patient. But it'd help if I knew at least a little bit about where we're headed."

From the front seat, Victorine, completely oblivious to what had passed between Dax and me, said, "We're going to the halfling ghetto."

"The what?" Halfling ghetto? I'd never heard the term before.

"We must refrain from calling it that, ma chère," Oscar said, his voice full of loving reproach for his own halfling daughter. "It's not their fault they've been assigned a second class status by the demon world."

Victorine had spoken before about how Dax didn't consider her as "real" of a demon as him or Oscar because her mother had been human. But I hadn't realized that there was an entire—what, race? Class?—of demons that comprised this halfling subset, nor had I realized they were marginalized so much by their world.

I wondered what I was going to learn about Dax's world today.

Oscar sped past Eden town limits and the area where Marion had taken me just a few days ago, intending to mate with me and then steal my soul. I shuddered as we passed, and Dax, sensing my fear, wrapped one arm around my shoulders and held me close against his chest. I breathed in his fragrance and closed my eyes, listening to the loud, too-fast thudding of his heart. His fingers rubbed the skin on my arm, gently, caressingly. Before too long, I had to separate myself from him because my own heart began to gallop faster until I had trouble breathing. When I looked up at him, he smiled sheepishly.

Finally, small hills and trees and strips of road began to give way to steep mountainous terrain and uncultivated, dense vegetation. Occasionally we'd pass by broken down cars or small, abandoned-looking shacks, but other than that, we were on our own. I understood why they'd chosen the Range Rover for today's travels: I doubted any other car could've made it through the mud puddles alone.

Oscar pulled off a side path and we drove past clusters of identical bushes, trees, and other things with fronds. I was completely lost, and I wondered how good his sense of direction must be for him to find his way through an environment with absolutely no markers or paths.

We turned into a small clearing and then out onto a dirt path with a small shack at the end of it. Unlike the ones I'd seen at the sides of the road before, this one didn't seem abandoned. The front door stood open, and there was a clothesline sagging off the side.

Oscar put the car into park and we stepped out, Dax standing protectively by my side, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon and the opening to the cottage.

Oscar turned to me. "Cara, don't be alarmed by what you see today. Halflings sometimes can be a bit difficult to talk to...they have their own rules, their own way of living life."

Victorine shifted from one foot to another, as if she was impatient that I had to be told this. I glanced at Dax, confused, but he was still watching our environment.

"Okay," I answered finally, not really understanding it at all.

Oscar looked at me for another moment before nodding. He and Victorine walked in the front while Dax stayed with me in the back. As we got closer to the open door of the cottage, I heard the din of a TV and the smell of rotting food curled into my nostrils. Instinctively, I wrinkled my nose. I looked at Dax to see if he'd have the same reaction—after all, his sense of smell was much stronger than mine—but he just looked guarded, not disgusted.

The inside of the shack was dark, even though it was morning. Whoever lived here had hung thick sheets in the windows to block out any trace of light.

Oscar knocked on the open door, but with the TV blaring the weather channel, I wasn't sure that the person—halfling—inside would hear us.

Victorine must've had the same thought because she yelled, "Hey! You have visitors!"

In her French accent, with her perfectly coiffed appearance, she looked and sounded extremely out of place.

But the TV was turned down, and a man, his head and body covered in a plaid wool blanket, as if he was sick, came to the door. He looked at us as if he couldn't be bothered to form an expression. Then he said, "What?" His voice was guttural, low.

"Afton?" Oscar extended his hand. He didn't wear gloves today, but he was still dressed in his butler-like suit. "I'm Oscar Dubois. I was told you'd meet with me today." He gestured toward us. "This is my family. May we come in?"

My happiness at being included in the family dimmed when Afton glared at me. "That is not a halfling nor a demon."

Dax stiffened beside me. " _She_ is none of your concern."

Afton assessed Dax, and, taking in his height and his stature, finally shrugged and shuffled off inside. Oscar and Victorine followed.

Dax gestured to the shack. "You first," he said softly. "Don't worry, I'll be right beside you the entire time."

I stepped in and looked around. There was an old green couch, sagging in the center, which took up most of the room. A cardboard box in front of it was being used as a makeshift table and held an ashtray, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of cheap vodka. The ancient TV was tuned to a static-y weather channel. Rotting fruit, empty takeout containers, and crusty plates littered the floor.

I resisted the urge to gag. At least the place wasn't crawling with vermin—that I could see, anyway.

Afton gestured to the couch, but no one sat. Shrugging again, he lowered himself to the dirty cushions and plucked a cigarette from the pack. As I watched, his fingers started to smoke like Dax's skin sometimes did. Afton pinched the tip between his smoking fingers and lit his cigarette. He popped it into his mouth and sucked deeply, looking up at us with his fish-like, dead eyes.

"We need to learn more about Marion's clan," Oscar said. Reaching into his suit jacket, he pulled out his phone and showed the screen to Afton. I guessed it was the picture Dax had taken of the clan symbol on Marion's body.

Afton stared at the picture for a while, and then he began to laugh. Dax, Oscar, and Victorine didn't join in, and obviously, neither did I. I was beginning to think the guy was insane. He sucked on his cigarette once and then looked up at Oscar. When he spoke, smoke oozed out of his mouth and coiled around his face. "That's the clan in Louisiana. The new one that wants to overthrow the Astaroth."

Dax and Oscar exchanged a look.

"What do you mean, overthrow the Astaroth?" Oscar asked.

Afton waved his hand around, swatting at the smoke lazily. "They have grand plans, those ones. Got a bunch of halflings riled up, too. They're going to do what's good for us, see. Make a change. The Astaroth would just as soon see us waste away with no souls to claim. These ones are going to change that."

A thrill ran up my spine. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? That whoever these Astaroth were, they kept an eye on the halflings and made sure they didn't kill humans, but Marion's clan was going to change that? I looked desperately at Dax—I needed to understand. He entwined his hand with mine and I clung on, desperate for the reassurance his heat provided.

"How many are in the clan?" Dax asked, his voice tight and controlled.

"Ah, about four or five."

Dax and Oscar exchanged another look.

"Thank you for your service," Oscar said, sensing that I needed to leave. He passed the halfling money. The outer note was a five hundred.

The note disappeared into the halfling's blanket, and his hand came back out empty. As I watched, he reached over to the side of the couch, into an empty container of food, and pulled out a small mouse I hadn't been able to hear with my inferior mortal senses. The mouse gave an indignant squeak. Sensing what was coming, I tried to turn away, but it was too late. Afton bit off the mouse's head.

Dax put his arm around me and dragged me toward the door. I managed to not vomit until we were outside.

I was still nauseous when we got back into the car, but at least I wasn't puking anymore. Embarrassed, I accepted the gum Victorine proffered straight-faced, without any hint of sympathy.

Dax rubbed circles on my back, looking concerned. "Are you all right? Would you like some water? We can stop at Irma's diner on the way home."

"I'd rather just go back to your place. I'm fine." I took a deep breath. "It was just a little unexpected, what he did."

Oscar started the car and began to drive." Halflings who live like Afton are often uncivilized, reveling in their filth and squalor."

There was silence, and I briefly wondered how Victorine felt about her own race of demons being treated—and living—like that. Then I turned my attention to more pressing matters. "What did Afton mean about the clan wanting to overthrow the Astaroth? Who are they?"

"The Astaroth demons play the role of judges of the demonic race," Dax said, staring past me out the window. "They're a powerful race of demons that live in northern Canada—currently, at any rate. They tend to relocate every half-century to keep an eye on things in the immortal realm, and they help decide cases of rivalry between demons.

"Rivalry between demons has historically been about territory—and it can get deadly quickly. They also step in if it's decided any demon is taking more than his share of souls. Taking too many means there are fewer for other demons, so..." He glanced at me to make sure I wasn't too horrified, and then went on. "The halflings feel that the Astaroth aren't vested enough in their wellbeing. They feel, for instance, that full demons take advantage of their relative weakness"—Victorine snorted in the front seat, but Dax continued, undeterred—"and they don't get fair play when it comes to taking souls or claiming territories. It's why many of them live the way Afton does."

I chewed on my lip. "And Marion's clan is taking advantage of that to gain momentum in Louisiana. That's their 'platform,' for lack of a better word?"

"Well, maybe not exactly how humans use the word in politics. They have to keep their movement relatively quiet or the Astaroth would be upon them in moments. But perhaps they're using the halflings to gather intelligence. Since the halflings live such a nomadic lifestyle, they're able to barter information from one group to another rather quickly. They work together, unlike demons from different clans." Dax cradled me in his arms, his hard muscles pushing into my own bones. It was uncomfortable, in a way, but I couldn't think of anywhere I'd rather be. "But please don't worry. There are only four or five of them, and that's including Marion, since we've heard no indication that they suspect he's dead yet. And the Astaroth are many. They have a legion of demon soldiers."

Oscar spoke up, looking at Dax and me in the rearview mirror. "We must connect with the Astaroth to inform them of Marion's clan's intentions. Once they've put a stop to the clan's activities, we won't have anything to worry about."

I didn't want to be pessimistic, but I had a feeling that this was just the beginning of what we'd see of Marion's clan. There was something on the horizon, something big and dark and ominous that we couldn't see yet. It was approaching fast, like an angry storm. I suppressed a shudder and hoped my intuition was wrong.

When we got back to Dax's mansion, I could tell that he and Oscar wanted desperately to discuss the logistics of meeting with the Astaroth to tell them about Marion's clan's plans for world domination. Or, at least, the demon world's domination. I didn't have much to contribute, and didn't want to sit around doing nothing—I was bursting with nervous energy—so I told Dax I'd head back home.

"Are you sure?" he asked as we spoke in his driveway. Oscar and Victorine went inside. He put one hand on my cheek and leaned forward so our foreheads were touching—his skin blazing against mine. "You don't have to leave." His copper eyes were hypnotic. "I don't want you to leave."

I breathed in the smoky scent of his breath, wishing we could just stay like that for the rest of the day. "I don't want to leave you either. But it sounds like you and Oscar have a lot to discuss. I'll only get in the way."

He kissed me on the forehead, the heat seeping all the way into my brain. "You're never in the way. But you're right, we do have a lot to plan. We must speak with the Astaroth before the clan becomes aware that I killed Marion. Regardless of what position Marion held in the clan, me killing one of their members is cause enough for them to seek revenge."

I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind since we'd found out that Marion had been part of a clan. "When I researched demons at the library, I saw that the only way to kill one was with cold-forged iron. Is that true?"

Dax's expression was unreadable as he studied my face. Finally, he said, "It is true for entities other than demons, yes. It's one of the only ways—besides magic rituals—that humans, for instance, can kill demons. Why do you ask?"

"I was sort of hoping there was some way I could at least have the _illusion_ of protecting myself. You know, like maybe carrying a Taser or pepper spray would scare them off." I sighed, knowing how ridiculous I sounded.

Dax held me close, enveloping me in his heat and fragrance. I relaxed, my muscles turning to liquid as if someone had slipped me a drug. "You _are_ protected, Cara. I promise to never let anything happen to you again." His arms tightened around me briefly, unintentionally cutting off my air supply. "Marion taking you was my mistake, and one I intend to never make again."

I struggled weakly against him and he released me. I took a deep breath. "Thanks. And...don't be silly. That wasn't your fault. You warned me and besides, _you_ saved me. Remember?"

He shook his head, his jaw clenched. "That doesn't matter. It was inexcusable to expose you to danger, even for a second."

I sighed. "I should go. I hope you and Oscar figure things out quickly." I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his.

I heard his sharp intake of breath, and then his arms tightened around my waist again, but not enough to cut off my air. He pressed his body against mine, molding his every muscle to mine. "I love you."

I blinked, trying to clear my head so I could get out a response halfway coherent. "I love you, too."

He helped me into the car, and before he closed my door, he said, "Stay safe, my betrothed."

I smiled the entire way home.

When I got home, it was lunch time. The whole day spread out before me, waiting to be filled. I sat in my dad's recliner and stared out the window at the blue sky.

Marion's clan wanted to overthrow the Astaroth, the judges of the demon world. But Dax had said they made decisions when demons fought. And they had soldiers. To me, it sounded like they were rulers rather than judges. What Marion's clan wanted to do was stupid, according to Dax. But could it cause an all-out war?

Goosebumps sprouted on my arms and legs. I couldn't even imagine the consequences of war in the demon world. I'd seen their raw power, what they were capable of. The thought of Dax being caught in the middle of one was horrifying.

I had to get out of the house, clear my head. I slid my cell phone out of my pocket, pulled up my contacts, and pushed a button.

"This is James."

"Hey. It's—"

"Cara!" The pleasure in his voice was genuine; I could hear him smiling and it made me smile, too. "I thought you'd never call."

I laughed. "Sorry. It's been a crazy week." I took a breath. "So, how are you?"

"Good! I'm over at the firehouse today."

"Oh. Sorry." Disappointment thudded in my chest. If he was working, I'd have to find something else to occupy my time. "I'll let you go."

"No!" James laughed. "I'm getting off in about half an hour. Do you want to come over? I'll show you where the heroes of Eden work."

"Ha. Sounds good. Be there shortly." I hung up, still smiling, and went back outside.

Eden's only fire station was nestled in a cove of trees. The bright red color of the trucks was stunning against all the green, like vibrant birds in a tropical forest.

James was hanging out with another firefighter when I got there, the gray t-shirt and navy pants fitting his large frame nicely. I could easily see James on one of those 'hometown heroes' calendars. I appreciated his beauty, but it didn't ignite a fire in me—no pun intended—the way Dax's did.

When he heard my car door close, he looked up. "Hey!"

"Hey." I smiled, suddenly shy.

We'd talked about things I hadn't discussed with anyone else when we'd hung out at the bar, but now, seeing him in the light of day, it was different. It always amazed me how difficult I found social situations with other humans. I'd never had that problem with Dax; nothing about our encounters had ever been awkward. Strange, yes. Electric, always. It made me realize just how disconnected I was from my own world.

James came up and enveloped me in a bear hug. His normal human heat was surprisingly tame compared to Dax's blazing temperature, and his scent was so much more mundane—fresh laundry and sweat. I felt a sudden fondness in my heart for this utterly human man, especially after all the drama of my thoughts back at my house. On impulse, I squeezed him before letting go.

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and turned me to face the man who was with him. "This is Patrick, my fellow firefighter and buddy. Patrick, meet Cara Beaumont."

Patrick's face lit up. "Oh, _Cara_! How did I guess?" He leered at James before grabbing my hand in a firm shake.

I felt a small tug in my stomach. James had already asked me out once and I'd very awkwardly, in true Cara fashion, turned him down. I didn't want him to think my friendship was an offer of something more, because it wasn't, and I didn't want to string him along.

So, like the coward I was, I chose to ignore that exchange. "Nice to meet you." I stepped casually away from James and looked around the massive garage. "So! This is the inside of a fire station. I've never seen one before."

It was a lame change of topic, but James bought into it. "No kidding. Well, we've gotta rectify that. You can't be my friend and not have the complete tour."

He held his arm out and, a little reluctantly, I took it.

We went inside.

James gave me the grand tour of the fire station, which wasn't as dinky as I'd expected. They had a big kitchen, a popcorn machine that James thought was the coolest thing ever, and a common room with a big screen TV. Several firemen were glued to it, watching a football game.

"This here was a Christmas donation." He patted the top of the screen lovingly.

"Wow. Generous. I didn't realize Edenites even knew what a big screen TV was." I grinned to show I was only half-serious.

James laughed. "Well, I guess he's not technically an Edenite. He's only lived here a year or two, I think. Donates to us regularly, though. Guy's name's Dax Allard. You know that place up on the hill?"

I stared at him. Dax had donated a big screen TV to the fire station? "Um...yeah, I know him. He's my..." I stopped. He's my what? Boyfriend? Lover? Betrothed? I couldn't say any of those. The first two were trite and the last would sound ridiculous. "...Boss." There. At least that was true.

James's thick blond eyebrows shot up. "No kiddin'."

I shrugged, my cheeks burning at the half-truth.

"Well, your boss is one generous guy. He seems to have a big interest in keeping Eden fire-free." He laughed, as if it was a joke. But I could think of one big reason Dax would make generous donations to the firefighters. He was probably responsible for a good number of Eden's fires himself, what with his demonic tendency to spontaneously set fire to things and all.

James led me down a narrow pathway to the firefighters' sleeping quarters next. There were three beds in James's room, and James's bed was pushed up against the wall. As decoration he had a giant American flag with two wooden swords underneath. The handles were intricately carved. I ran my finger along the designs. "Pretty."

James gasped and clutched his chest dramatically with one hand. "They're not _pretty_ , Cara. They're manly and dangerous. Those are Kendo swords."

"My mistake." I held my hands up in mock surrender. "I meant they're so scary they make me want to cry. Seriously, though, why do you have swords up on your wall? Do you do Kendo?"

"Hell yeah. It's become sort of my lifeline. Actually, Patrick and I started this class together at Billy Roundtree's dojo . He dropped out after a couple of weeks, but I kept going. Now I look forward to the classes every week."

"Cool." I turned back to the wall, my wheels spinning. Sword fighting. Running my finger down the length of the wooden blade, I asked, "So, how come the blades are wooden?"

"Practical reasons," James said. If he thought it was weird I seemed to be fixated on his swords, he didn't give any indication. "If you're just sparring with your partner, you don't want to risk hurting him or damaging a thousand-dollar weapon. Bamboo's lightweight and cheap." He lifted one off its holder on the wall and held it out to me. "Here. See for yourself."

I took it tentatively, but he was right—it barely weighed anything. I found it empowering in a weird way, holding a weapon that had the potential to cause harm. With a sword in my hand, I wasn't quite as helpless as the night I'd been when Marion attacked me. "Do they make these in iron?"

James raised an eyebrow. "Iron? I'm not sure. Probably. People who don't like wood prefer steel, though. It's lighter."

Even if there were sword makers out there who made iron swords, it was unlikely that they'd make them with cold-forged iron. I was fairly sure that iron was a metal that was easiest forged in heat.

Still, if there was even one website, one artisan somewhere that would do it, I'd have a weapon. An actual, bona fide _weapon_ to protect myself against demons.

"So... you think you might want to try Kendo? I could teach you the basics." James's eyes shone with excitement.

"You know," I turned to him. "I just might take you up on that."

In fact, I was sure I would. And I'd find someone who'd make me a cold-forged iron sword, too. I refused to be a helpless victim, waiting for Marion's clan or some other demon to come to town.

There was a tremendous bang from the front of the station that interrupted whatever James was going to say. It was followed by various exclamations of the "What the fuck?!" variety from the firefighters. James rushed out and I ran after him, my heart pounding.

As soon as I turned into the common area, before I even saw him or breathed in his wood smoke and spice scent, I knew it was Dax.

For one, the room was incredibly hot—it was like walking into a kitchen when the oven had been going all day. For two, the firefighters, big and beefy as they were, looked alarmed and intimidated, as if they'd come face to face with a man-eating eight-hundred-pound lion.

James stopped in front of me, his posture immediately tensing as he took in the situation and the tall, menacing man at the door. He tried to shield my body, but I went around him so Dax could see me.

His face immediately relaxed, and the room cooled by about ten degrees. He rushed toward me, taking care to stay right on the edge of acceptable mortal speed, and put his hands on my face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying not to smile like a goofy idiot. Just his proximity was making me giddy, even though I had no idea why he was here, and he'd obviously freaked out all the firemen. "Why? What's going on?"

But he was still tense as he looked around the room. His eyes lit on James, who was still glaring at him. "Are you sure you're all right? They weren't holding you here against your will?"

James sputtered with indignant laughter. The firefighters all looked from him to Dax uncomfortably.

"Who the hell do you think you are, bud?" James said, straightening up so his chest was out. "You come barging in to _our_ fire house and now you're accusing _us_ of holding her?"

"Door's broken," one of the firefighters put in unhelpfully, and I saw that Dax had indeed ripped it almost completely off its hinges when he'd stormed in.

But Dax ignored them completely, copper eyes smoldering as he stared at me, waiting for my response.

"Um, no, I'm here because I wanted to visit with James," I said, my cheeks burning. "He's an old friend."

Dax took a deep breath and his hands off my face before looking at James. "I will pay for damages," he said curtly.

"Damn right you will." James stepped forward. "This a friend of yours, Cara?"

I was almost sandwiched between the two of them, Dax in front of me and James right behind. I turned sideways so I could see them both at the same time. "James, this is Dax Allard. Dax, this is James Spellman."

James's eyes widened. "You're...you're Dax Allard? Our donor? Cara's boss?"

Dax frowned slightly. "Yes, I'm Cara's employer. But that's not all I am."

The firefighters began to disperse, probably sensing that this was turning into some kind of personal argument. And, I was sure, they didn't want to antagonize their generous donor.

"Right." James looked from me to Dax and back. "So this is the guy you told me about at Old Mac's?"

I blushed, remembering how I'd said that Dax's feelings about me were unclear. "Yeah, but...there were some misunderstandings back then that we worked out."

James shook his head. "Sure, Cara. Whatever you say."

I turned to Dax. "What's going on? Why are you here?"

His jaw was clenched tight. "I need to speak with you immediately. Up on the hill, please."

"Okay." Turning to James, I said, "Thanks for the tour. I'll call you later."

He huffed a laugh. "That's it? He barges in here and you're off to do his bidding?"

Dax tensed, but I put a restraining hand on his arm. His skin scorched me, but I didn't draw back. "It's not like that, James. It's...it's complicated."

"Isn't that what you said about him at Old Mac's, too? 'Complicated' isn't a good thing, Car." He smiled as if he was joking, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Take it easy and call me later."

I stared at him for a long moment, wondering how I'd managed to hurt him again in spite of my best intentions. Finally, I sighed. "I will."

Dax took my hand and led me outside.

Once we were outside, I turned to Dax. "What's the matter?"

He kept walking, but his pace was slow enough that I wouldn't fall behind. "Please don't worry. I simply want to get to the mansion before we begin to discuss details." His beautiful French lilt was hypnotizing, and in spite of myself, I began to calm down.

He had parked his shiny black Mercedes behind my car. I pulled out my car keys from my pockets. "Should I follow you, then?"

Pursing his lips, Dax looked toward the fire station. "Would your...friend mind if you left your car here for now?"

"James?" I looked toward the fire station too, as if he could hear us. "No, I don't think so."

"Okay. Because I'd much rather you rode with me."

"All right." I followed him to his car, and he opened my passenger door for me like he always did. When I was safely ensconced inside, he went to the driver's side and got in.

When we were on the road, I glanced at his brooding, dark expression and cleared my throat delicately. "Can you at least give me a hint of what this is about?" My palms began to get clammy and I forced down any pessimistic thoughts my imagination wanted to fling at me. "Please?"

"Actually, I myself don't know the whole story." He gave me a tight-lipped smile. "As soon as Oscar said he had more information on Marion's clan and that you might be in danger"—his lip curled, revealing his sharp canines—"I came to find you. I was frantic when I saw you weren't home."

So that explained his overreaction at the fire station. My stomach felt like it was filled with chunks of ice; my blood slowed and turned to slush. "What do you mean I might be in danger?"

"I don't know. As I said, I left to come find you." He put his blazing hand on my leg. "Please, Cara. Don't worry. Nothing will happen to you."

But I couldn't help the shivers that wracked my frame. I took deep breaths in through my nose and forced them out through my mouth in an attempt to calm the vice grip around my chest. Dax would keep me safe for now, until I could take matters into my own hands. He would.

"Can we talk about something else?" I barely got the words out without my voice trembling. "I need to be distracted right now."

He looked at me, his brow knitted. "Of course, my love. What would you like to talk about?"

I shook my head, thinking, grasping for anything not life and death. "James," I said finally.

"What about the mortal?" One corner of Dax's mouth turned slightly upward, but that was the only indication of his distaste for James. If I didn't know him and his expressions so well, I would've missed it.

"He's my friend. And you were pretty harsh with him." Even as I spoke, my thoughts returned to Oscar and what he had to tell us about me being in danger. Oh god. Sick to my stomach, I wrestled my mind back to James.

"I thought you were in danger," Dax said simply. "Besides, I did say I'd pay for the damages. I fully intend to."

"That's not the point. The point is he's my friend. And he...you should've just been nicer to him." I sighed, frustrated.

"Why?" Dax's tone was genuinely full of bafflement.

"Because he sort of...he has a thing for me. A crush. And he's a really nice guy, so I want to be his friend since I can't give him any more. But if you scare him off that's not going to happen. And I don't want to hurt him." I put my hand on Dax's, letting the heat seep into me. "I'm sorry you were scared for me. But James wouldn't hurt me. He's a really nice person, Dax. Besides, he's going to teach me Kendo."

Dax's eyebrow arched. "Kendo?"

"It's a Japanese martial art—"

"Yes, I know what it is. But why do you want to learn it?"

"I'm going to have someone make me a cold-forged iron sword. To give me at least some kind of a weapon against demons. Especially now, if you think Marion's clan might be after me or..." I shrugged. "I can't just sit around and be helpless."

Dax stared at me. We were driving up the hill now, the Mercedes navigating the rough terrain without much issue. "You are not helpless. You have me."

I shook my head, running my fingers absently over his skin. "It's not the same. I have to do this for me. It'll make me feel safer." I looked at him. "And you need to be nice to James."

He took a deep breath. "If the friendship is important to you, then I'll make an effort. I'm sorry I was harsh with him today."

"Thank you." I laid my head on his arm as he pulled into his enormous garage. "I love you."

He put the car in park and turned in his seat, taking my face in his big, scorching hands. "And I love you. More than anything." His kiss was light but full of heat, and I felt that familiar stirring. Except with Dax it wasn't a stirring; it was more like a full-on tsunami out of nowhere.

I pulled back and struggled to breathe. "Let's go find Oscar."

Once we were inside the house heading toward Dax's study, my stomach began churning again, my skin got cold and clammy. This all felt so surreal. I'd only just found out that Dax was a demon—hell, that demons were even an actual entity in our world—and now I might be in danger from a clan of them?

When we entered, Oscar was by the wall-to-wall windows in the back of the study. He faced us with a small, serene smile on his face. Victorine lounged on the formal couch, all dolled up in a beautiful blue dress, examining her nails as if she was bored.

"I hope we haven't interrupted anything important by asking you to come here, Cara." Oscar smiled and went to take a seat in an armchair. "Please sit."

I sank down on a small loveseat and Dax sat next to me, holding my hand. The atmosphere in the room was tense in spite of Victorine's seeming nonchalance and Oscar's mild smile.

"No, not at all. I was just hanging out with a friend."

Oscar nodded and glanced at Dax before speaking again. "I'm afraid I have some bad news on the matter of Marion's clan. I phoned some of my contacts in Louisiana to ask if they'd heard of what was going on. They were able to tell me a little more than the halfling did this morning. It seems the clan is much more powerful than we'd feared. It's composed of Tzitzimime demons."

Dax stiffened beside me.

"What does that mean?" I looked from Oscar to Dax, my heart racing.

"Tzitzimime demons want, more than anything, to destroy the human world and take over. They want to clean the slate of any rules, to start afresh with demons being able to openly hunt humans. This is nothing new; they're known for their tempestuous natures. What makes Marion's clan especially dangerous, to us, is the way they intend to do this." Oscar stopped to give me a moment to take it all in.

I nodded when I was ready for him to go on.

"They've lit upon the idea of betrothal." At Oscar's words, Dax's hand tightened around mine. Pain bloomed, but I barely noticed. "When a demon mates with his betrothed and absorbs her soul, he is nourished for many centuries afterward. There's something about his betrothed that is especially powerful. It's a common belief that this is because of the special connection they share.

"There is a small sect of demons that prey on other demons' betrotheds because they believe the betrothed are special in some way, that their souls have something extra that makes them suitable to be a betrothed in the first place. Not every human can be a demon's betrothed." Oscar waited to see if I was following. I nodded. "Marion's clan wants to take this theory one step further. They hypothesize that a Beleth demon's betrothed, one he's actually in love with, as Dax is with you, must have an even _more_ power-laden or 'special' soul. Therefore, their plan is—"

"To kill Beleth demons' betrotheds and take their souls. So they can take over the world." My voice was barely a tremble. Dax pulled me close to him and wrapped an arm around me.

"Yes." Oscar's tone was grim. "They will kill any betrothed, but they're especially on the lookout for those with whom Beleth demon—such as Dax—have fallen in love."

When Dax spoke, his words were like shards of glass, smooth and hard. "Do they know yet, what I've done? That Marion is dead?"

"Not that I could ascertain. I'm sure they know he went looking for his hound, so we can't have too much longer. From what I understood, though I wasn't able to be too direct as I didn't want to give too much away, Marion was held in fairly good esteem. Which means revenge _will_ come, and it will be sought without caution. Especially if—" He looked at me, his pale eyes full of sympathy.

"If they find out I'm Dax's betrothed. And that we're in love." I was _exactly_ the kind of human they wanted. My soul was their ultimate feast. I shuddered and then another thought slammed into me. "Afton." Blood drained from my face. I turned to stare at Dax. "Do you think he'd tell them? That I was with you? He knew I was human. They might figure out like Marion did that I'm your betrothed."

"No." Oscar and Dax spoke the word together, and then Dax continued, his hands cupping my face. "The money we paid Afton was to keep him quiet. Halflings are desperate enough for it that they can be bought quite easily. Don't worry, Cara." I lost count of how many times Dax had said that to me in the past day. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"None of us will," Oscar said. "Our plan is to seek a meeting with the Astaroth immediately and advise them of the clan's intentions, just as we were going to before. Only this time we have more details, and that should make them act even quicker. They'll put a stop to their activities immediately."

Victorine sighed, the first sound she'd made since I got here. As she got up to leave she spoke just loud enough for me to hear. "I knew this was going to turn out to be a big mistake. All for one human."

She sauntered out of the study. Dax held me close.

"Don't worry," he said yet again. "You're safe. And you are entirely worth any effort we might have to make to keep you safe."

Somehow, I was more inclined to agree with Victorine than Dax on the matter. I felt the pressure of an incoming storm, and I knew that I was standing in the eye.

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.

The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars

Did wander darkling in the eternal space,

Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;

Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day.

\- _Darkness_ , Lord Byron

Dax and I stood on a branch twenty feet off the ground in "our" giant oak tree. It was early, the pinks and golds of sunrise kissing the leaves and dappling his perfect, scorching skin. He would leave for northern Canada in just a few minutes.

I stood with my back pressed into the enormous trunk, cold bark biting into my skin through my sweater. My flawless lover stood before me, only about an inch away, his hands braced on the tree trunk on either side of my face. The heat wafting off him was so intense I was sweating in spite of the chilly winter air. His copper eyes were molten as they held mine.

"I won't be gone long." His sweet, smoky breath wafted over me. I blinked and tried to focus on his words. Unfortunately, my brain seemed to insist on wondering what he looked like under his blue button-down shirt and jeans. Though we'd been together weeks now, we'd done nothing more than kiss—and not for lack of trying on my part.

"I wish you didn't have to go." My voice was barely a whisper, my throat tight with emotion. It was incredibly silly, considering Dax would be back in about twenty-four hours. But I couldn't help it. It felt awful, him going away. It felt wrong in the deepest sense of the word.

"Me too." He pushed a strand of hair out of my face and planted a soft kiss where it had been. His full lips scorched my skin and I gasped.

He stiffened at my response, breathing in and out slowly, steadily. I knew he was trying to get control of himself though I couldn't see his face, which lingered by my neck.

He loved to breathe me in as much as I loved to inhale his scent. It was something I didn't understand since, in my opinion, I smelled like any average mortal. _His_ fragrance, on the other hand...if they bottled his scent and sold it, women everywhere would completely succumb to guys wearing it. It was that powerful an aphrodisiac.

When he was in control of himself, he pulled back to look at me. "I'm sorry I have to go."

It might've been an off the cuff remark, but from his tone I knew he sincerely felt that the need for this trip was his fault. I rested my head against the tree trunk and held his gaze. "It's not your fault." I cupped his blazing cheek. "You were protecting me. You saved my life."

He smirked, his expression hard as his copper eyes blazed. "I didn't have to utterly destroy the hound. It might not have progressed to the level it has." His rough, French-accented voice was like a song even though he was talking about killing—turning to dust—a demonic creature.

"Why did you?" I asked, even though I knew the answer. He'd told me a hundred times, but it never got old, listening to him say it in his gorgeous accent.

He ran his thumb over my lower lip, his touch light as a feather. I felt like my skin there had turned to fire. "Because you are my everything. My entire existence is meaningless without you. I wish you could see the simple, indelible truth behind my words. It's why I lament that I'm not strong enough to leave you. I'm jeopardizing your life simply by being here, near you."

My hands tightened around his waist at the mention of him leaving. "I don't want you to leave. I'm not in any danger." I stood on my tiptoes on that broad branch and kissed him, my tongue darting out to taste his sweet skin. "You know, I can prove it to you."

He pulled back immediately, as he always did when I brought up the subject. His mouth set in a disapproving line, he said, "No." His copper eyes were flat, unyielding.

Snaking my arms around him, I clasped my hands around his back and pushed myself up against his body. His arousal was clear, pressing into my stomach. I had to fight to keep my breathing steady; even so, I wasn't entirely successful. "Please. Dax, I know you want to as badly as I do."

This was our daily struggle. I wanted to prove to him that us sleeping together didn't mean that he'd impregnate me with a demonic child and then steal my soul before I died in childbirth. I knew that was what happened with demons and their betrothed usually, but I wanted to show him that it wouldn't happen to us.

For one, I was on the pill. Dax said that didn't matter to his super-virile demon sperm, but I had trouble believing that. When was the last time the theory had been tested? No demons that Dax knew of had tried to make love to their betrothed while on twenty-first century birth control. I placed a lot of stock in science, but Dax resolutely refused to see my point.

For two, Dax loved me. Because he was a demon, his love and devotion was infinitely more than what humans felt for their partners. I knew that even if I _did_ somehow get pregnant, he wouldn't be able to take my soul. We'd find a way for me to survive the pregnancy. Oscar knew more magic rituals than Dax even cared to keep track of. How could he not know a way to keep me strong? I hadn't exactly broached the subject with him yet, but I had confidence in him.

What it came down to was that while I was in no way ready for a family, I was even less ready to live a life of celibacy, abstaining from giving myself to the one man I truly loved—the only man I'd ever love the rest of my life.

Dax sighed and pressed his forehead to mine. I could feel in that tense gesture how much he wanted to take me up on my offer. Just being near each other without being able to seek release, to provide pleasure, was pure torture. Our physical attraction was almost unbearable—what did you expect when we were supernaturally pre-destined to mate?—but Dax refused to risk my life in any way.

His phone beeped, interrupting us. He pulled it from his pocket. "It's Oscar. He's here."

I nodded, biting my lip against the ridiculous tears I felt forming. He pulled me close, inhaling the scent off the top of my head. "I love you, my betrothed."

I pressed my face into his chest, smiling at the old-fashioned word. "I love you, too. Hurry back."

"I will."

There was a whoosh of wind before I could speak again, and I found myself on my feet on the forest floor. Dax pulled me close for a long, deep kiss. When he let go, I was struggling to breathe, my head swimming with his scent and the need for his body.

Chuckling softly, he tucked a lock of my hair behind one ear. Then he grabbed my hand and led me to my car, which I'd parked a few yards away. I saw Oscar's black Range Rover waiting on the winding road past the forest, and I waved, though my eyesight wasn't sharp enough to see if he waved back.

Dax opened the driver's door to my Volvo and waited patiently as I got inside and buckled up. I looked up at him, my throat still tight. "Text me when you get there."

He leaned down and planted a feather-light kiss on my lips. "I will. I love you more than you know."

I couldn't speak anymore, so I just nodded. He waited until I'd turned on the car and begun to drive. When I looked into the rearview mirror a moment later, both he and the Range Rover were gone.

I made a three-point turn and began to head for the hill on which Dax's mansion sat. After the whole fiasco with Marion and with what the halfling, Afton, had told us about his clan, Dax had refused to leave me alone, even for twenty-four hours. He was afraid that the clan would come into town and kidnap me or that I'd fall into the clutches of some other demon. The chances of that happening were slim, since the clan didn't even know that Marion was dead or that Dax had killed him. But that didn't stop Dax from worrying or planning out my twenty-four hours without him.

I knew he couldn't help it—demons didn't have any sense of propriety when it came to their betrothed. It wasn't like he'd been reared to respect a woman's independence or scale back his caveman instincts. Dax didn't have caveman instincts. All he had were demonic instincts and supernatural leanings that told him that I was his mate. Now that we'd met, his entire reason for existence was to protect me, to ensure my survival and happiness and security. He'd told me several times over the past few weeks that he was sorry if he seemed to be smothering, but to him, this was the only way he knew how to be. Human social limits and rules baffled him.

To be honest, I didn't mind. Not in the least. I was just happy I didn't have to pretend that I wasn't as desperate for his attention, for his company, as I was. I knew mortals would say I was codependent or that I lacked a life of my own, but I couldn't alter my feelings for him any more than I could change the color of my hair. It was pre-destined, almost a shaping of my genes.

Since Dax hadn't wanted to take me with him and Oscar to the meeting with the Astaroth (and I wholeheartedly agreed; meeting demonic judges didn't interest me in the least), he'd left me in charge of Shuck—his Hellhound—and Victorine.

I glanced out the window into the foliage as I drove to see if I could catch a glimpse of Shuck, but he stayed hidden. I knew he'd be keeping pace with me as I drove, just as he'd be following me silently everywhere I went in the next twenty-four hours. Shuck wasn't like a regular, mortal dog. Not only was he rather antisocial, he also possessed certain scary qualities like iron-strength, huge, leathery wings, and a mouthful of venomous teeth. But he was unfailingly loyal to Dax and Dax's interests.

I drove past the wrought iron gates at the top of the hill and pulled into the mansion's enormous driveway. When I got out, the breeze whipped my hair around me. I rubbed my arms in the chilly winter morning. Being so close to Dax all the time, I forgot how cold winter really was when you didn't have the advantage of searing, demonic heat.

I tipped my head back and looked up at the sparkling windows of the mansion, wondering if Victorine was spying on me. But really, it didn't matter. This was going to be home for the next twenty-four hours, and I'd better accept Victorine Dubois and her dislike for me if I wanted to get through the day unscathed.

Victorine was honestly a puzzle. She was openly hostile toward me, for reasons I didn't fully understand. She seemed to think that I'd somehow end up getting killed, and she and her family would have to find another place to call home. What confused me was that she saw that Dax would do anything to protect me. How could she still think that he might kill me? But I'd only drive myself crazy if I spent too much time on these pointless internal arguments. Who could tell where her insecurities came from?

Dax knew it was a challenge for me to be around her for extended periods of time, and had promised me a surprise when he got back. I didn't even want to know what he'd had to bribe Victorine with for her to agree that I could encroach on her space. At least the mansion was big enough for me to keep to myself.

I winced as I got out my overnight bag and slung it over my shoulder. I'd been working out a lot lately, learning the art of Kendo from my friend James Spellman. He was a firefighter and I'd known him in high school, but we'd grown to be friends after I'd moved back home. My muscles screamed in indignation at the brutal exercise, but that side effect was a small price to pay for the ability to defend myself against demons. I wasn't there quite yet, but I was counting on developing fighting skills with which any martial arts master would be impressed.

I knocked on the front door and, after a long pause, Victorine answered.

She smiled at me, the kind of smile you reserve for someone you secretly despise but have run into at the post office.

"Welcome, Cara. Please come in." She stepped aside and I walked past her, silently marveling at her beauty. It hit me every time just how _perfect_ she was; a fifties movie star come to life. Her creamy skin was unmarred and had that same golden hue that Dax's and Oscar's did. Her lips were a vivid scarlet, a shade I'd never dare to wear. Today she wore yet another one of her retro dresses, this one white with yellow polka dots and a Peter Pan collar.

I stood awkwardly in the foyer, feeling small and mousy next to her, clutching my bag to me. "Thanks for having me. I'm really sorry to put you out. Dax insisted."

She closed the door and turned around, that smile fixed on her gorgeous face. "Yes, I know. Come on, I'll show you to the guest room."

I had to almost jog to keep up with her as we walked upstairs. I had a sneaking suspicion she kept to her supernatural speed on purpose—so I could see just how slow I was, just how much Dax had to lower himself to my level. My temper flared a bit, but I tamped down on it. It was true; I really was slower. But I knew Dax loved me in spite of that, and really, that was all that mattered. Victorine's prejudice wasn't my problem. Right?

Okay, it still stung a little, but I could deal with it. It was only a measly twenty-four hours.

When we got to the third floor, Victorine raced to the end of the hallway and pointed to a big wooden door. Since she didn't make any move to open it, I moved past her and turned the doorknob. Then I stopped and gaped.

There were flowers everywhere.

Not the kind you got at the grocery store in plastic wrapping, either. These were giant, classy bouquets of monochromatic blooms in understated, elegant vases. Taupe-colored roses bloomed from a square coffee-colored crystal vase. A cut-glass vase on the nightstand showcased delicious-smelling freesia. White tulips sat in a long planter on the floor at the foot of the king-sized bed.

Surprisingly, the scent in the room was just the perfect blend of soothing and inviting, not overpowering at all like you'd expect. Had Dax special-ordered some of the flowers to be de-fragranced? Somehow, everything just turned to magic around him.

The south wall of the bedroom was all floor-to-ceiling windows and overlooked the lush forests and mountains of Eden. The massive bed had been made in off-white linen that looked French and very expensive, and a massive fireplace was going across from it.

"This is so incredibly beautiful. Did he do this all for me?" I turned to the doorway, smiling, but Victorine was gone.

Since it was evident that Victorine wanted to spend as little time with me as possible, I spent the entire morning in my beautiful guest room, enjoying the flowers, the fire, and the view. I had an event to go to that afternoon anyway, a fundraiser for the Eden fire department to which Dax—a longstanding donor to the department—had been invited.

Since it was now my job to attend those human social events that he absolutely detested, I had RSVP'd yes. James had told me he'd be there, too, and I was looking forward to having at least one person to talk to.

I peeked at my cell phone where it lay charging on my nightstand. No messages from Dax yet. I wasn't exactly worried about him, but not having him near me was like a constant toothache. It was hard not to pick at it and worry. Was Oscar driving safely? What if they got in a wreck? They were incredibly strong, but they drove incredibly fast, too. Was he strong enough to walk away from a major car accident? It seemed like a ridiculous and random thing to worry about, but learning about Dax's world was like trying to drink the ocean. There was so much to know, so much that was different than what I was used to.

My phone beeped, startling me. As I picked it up, I realized there was another thing I was worried about: Dax being in the presence of the Astaroth. He'd said that things would go smoothly, that he wasn't worried in the least. Still, the idea of him meeting with the judges of the demon world didn't sit too well with me. And it didn't help that they apparently had legions of demonic soldiers who did their bidding.

Just drove into New York. I miss you, my betrothed.

I smiled. Dax's use of the word might sound melodramatic and strangely old-fashioned to an outsider, but I knew what it meant for him to say it, to acknowledge my importance in his world.

After it sank in where he was, I gasped. Holy hell. He'd taken four hours to get to New York from northern North Carolina. That meant they were driving twice as fast as the speed limit. Again, my worries about him getting into a wreck flared.

Miss you too. Please be safe.

I will. Please do the same for me. This distance is intolerable.

I smiled and considered blowing a kiss to my phone, but that was just too dorky, even for me. I settled for touching the bracelet Dax had given me when he'd first openly professed his love for me. It was beautiful, an ancient family heirloom passed down through the generations. Every time I saw it glittering on my wrist, I was reminded of how much this perfect creature cherished me.

My cell phone chimed, reminding me that it was time to leave for the fundraiser. I smoothed down my sweater and checked my hair in the giant mirror in my room one last time. It hung in a half-frizzy, half-limp hunk halfway down my back, the ends curling from the pervasive, year-round humidity in North Carolina. Sighing, I picked up my car keys and made my way out.

I didn't bother saying goodbye to Victorine; she obviously didn't want to be reminded that I was here in her home. I wondered if she'd ever come to accept me. If there was one thing of which I was sure, it was that I was here—in Dax's life, and by extension, in hers—to stay.

I drove to Buckley Meeting Hall, which was where anything of import took place in Eden—wedding receptions, the annual "Christmas in July" festival, fundraisers, kids' birthday parties—and got out, umbrella at the ready. Menacing gray clouds were moving in, and I wanted to be prepared. It felt like my time back home in Eden had been one almost-continuous rain shower with bits of sunshine here and there.

I walked into the large hall with its vinyl flooring and fluorescent lighting and immediately swept the room with my gaze. People milled about, chatting with the ease of small town folk who already knew each other better than some families did.

Someone had gone all out decorating this place. A giant firefighter-themed banner hung between the two pillars at the entrance, and balloons with pictures of fire hydrants and cartoon firemen floated near the ceiling. It looked more like a little boy's birthday party than a fundraising event.

Irma's diner had provided the refreshments and young waiters and waitresses manned two long card tables, handing out punch and plates of hors d'oeuvres. I was picking up a cup of Sprite when someone put their hands over my eyes from behind me. The hands were big, and compared to Dax's, almost cold. I smiled.

"James?"

With a groan, he took his hands off. "How do you do that?"

I laughed and shrugged. "I know the smell of your laundry detergent."

"Ah ha." There was a wicked glint in his eye. "So you know my scent, do you?"

I rolled my eyes. James was aware of Dax's and my relationship, but it didn't stop him from trying to lure me away from my "complicated relationship" with Dax, though he didn't know exactly what that entailed.

"This is nice." I pointed to the fireman décor in a weak attempt to change the subject.

James looked at the wall, where someone had taped up cardboard cutouts shaped like firemen's hats, with each of the firefighters' names. He made a face and leaned in to whisper, "It's completely tacky, but the chief's wife did it, so we're all pretending we like it. Check these out." He pointed to the card tables, which I now noticed were littered with red fire hydrant-shaped confetti.

I suppressed a smile and took a sip of my drink.

"There you are."

I turned at the sultry female voice and found myself staring at Sheila Lawton's cleavage.

She was dressed in a scandalous—for Eden—low-cut sparkly cocktail dress that stopped about three inches above her knees. Her slender feet were clad in suede pumps that were at least five inches high, and her pale blonde hair was up in a sophisticated chignon.

I smiled at her, but her blue eyes bypassed me completely and went to James. She took him in in his fireman's uniform, her smile widening as she inserted herself neatly between the two of us. I stepped aside, trying not to flash back to high school, when she'd refused to acknowledge my existence because I wasn't cool enough.

James smiled, his expression ever friendly. "Hey, Sheila! You look nice."

She smoothed down her hair as her eyes darted to me, her smile triumphant now. Looking back at James, she said, "Why, thank you. I'm happy you think so. That uniform fits you good, too."

"Thanks." James looked toward the room distractedly. "Is your daddy here?"

Sheila's face fell. "Yes. He's over by the dining table, talking to someone."

"Be right back. The chief said I should get him the moment he walked in the door." He put a hand on my arm. "I'll catch up with y'all in a minute, okay?"

I smiled. "Sure."

Sheila turned to me, finally, and I tried not to cringe at the awkwardness in the air. "And what are _you_ doing here?"

Pretending to not notice the contempt in her voice, I said, "My boss is a big donor."

Sheila smiled. "So this is work related?"

I nodded.

Her bony shoulders relaxed the slightest bit. "Well, I always come to all of James's events. The poor baby hates when I miss them."

"I thought you just accompanied your dad to these things. He has to go because he's the mayor, right?" The moment I said it, I realized Sheila would take it as a challenge, as if I didn't believe that James would want her here.

I wasn't wrong. Her shoulders were tense again, her eyes flashing like blue fire. "Yes, but James likes me to come anyway. We're _very_ close. In fact, I better go see what the boys are talking about." She swished by me, leaving a heavy trail of jasmine perfume in her wake.

I took another sip of my Sprite, wincing at my own stupidity. This was just great. I'd been here about five minutes and already I'd made an enemy.

James came sauntering back to me about thirty minutes later, when I was talking to the treasurer of the fire department charity fund—a big, hulking firefighter with a bulbous nose and thick black hair. In the space of our five-minute conversation, he'd made about a thousand innuendos, all of which I pretended not to notice. When James appeared at my elbow and slung an arm around me, the guy, who hadn't told me his name, melted away.

James chuckled. "Did he try to get you to sleep with him yet?"

I snorted and stepped out casually from under his arm. "Almost. I think we were headed in that general direction. So. How was the chat with Sheila Lawton and her dad?"

"Good, good." He itched his jaw and turned bright red.

"What?"

"I made the mistake of asking her where she was headed after this. You know, because of the way she was dressed."

I almost choked on my Sprite. "You didn't. What did she say?"

"She got pretty dang mad." He cringed. "Ah, well. Sheila'll come around. It seems I'm always putting my foot in my mouth around her."

"I know the feeling," I muttered.

Just then, a woman in her fifties at the front of the room tapped an iced tea glass with her spoon. "Lunch!"

Lunch turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant affair because I happened to be seated between James and the fire chief, Reginald "Just call me Reggie" Roth. Reggie was an easygoing man in his fifties—it was his wife who'd tapped the glass to announce lunch. He asked insightful questions and seemed to genuinely care about my answers.

"So, tell me, what's it like working for the mysterious Mr. Dax Allard?"

I swallowed a piece of chicken cacciatore that seemed to have lodged in my throat. "Mysterious? Why do you say that?"

"Well, he's just been so generous to us this past year. But in spite of I-don't-know-how-many phone calls and letters, we don't even know what the man looks like. The boys told me he came to the fire station the other day, but of course I missed it. It was my day off. I'm just so danged curious. What's he like?" He took another bite of his steak.

I delayed by sipping on my water. What could I say? Somehow I thought telling him that Dax was the most beautiful person—and I didn't mean his insane good looks—I'd ever met, or that I was so in love with him, there wasn't even a word for the way I felt, would sound really weird. So instead I settled for a lukewarm response. "He's great. I like working there. They keep me busy."

Reggie seemed satisfied enough with my response, even though I felt a stab of guilt at having reduced Dax to nothing more than a boss. But Reggie didn't seem to notice anything amiss and went on to speak about other things.

After I was done with my meal, I sat picking at my chocolate cake and chatting with James. Occasionally I'd look across the table and see Sheila spearing me with hostile gazes. I knew she wanted to sit in my spot, and I wished I could tell her that the seating arrangement hadn't been under my control. It seemed she thought my sole purpose in life was getting between her and James.

James meanwhile was completely oblivious to the silent conversation going on between the two of us women. He was in the process of telling me a story about the time they'd had to rescue a dog from inside a hole because it refused to let go of the gigantic stick it had in its mouth when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

I looked up to see a man in a medal-bedecked military uniform, his face all hard angles and planes. His eyes were a steely gray that looked like they'd seen more than their share of violence and war. James immediately leaped to his feet.

"Captain Rubens," he said. "How can I help you, sir?"

"May I have a word with you? In private?" The man glanced around the table at all of us unapologetically.

"Of course." James turned to me. "I'll be right back."

I nodded and watched as the men walked to the deserted far corner of the hall. Captain Rubens was much shorter than James, the sort of guy who spent half the day at the gym bench pressing twenty times his body weight. Squat but densely packed with muscles, it was clear from the way he gestured and spoke that he was used to giving orders. His movements were quick and precise, his hands slicing through the air. James nodded every now and then, but he didn't speak.

"I tell ya, the National Guard's lucky to have James," Reggie said in my ear. "Never had a firefighter who gave more than James. He's just one hundred percent, whatever he decides to do."

For some reason, my heart clenched at his words. Maybe it was the thought of James, so sweet and kind and funny, not only risking his life every day that he worked as a firefighter, but risking it further by joining the National Guard. Maybe it was because I could see that whatever his Captain was telling him was serious, and I was afraid of what it'd be. I imagined him being deployed to Iraq, being gone for the entire year. I imagined him coming back scarred and different, a ghost of his usual self.

I was so lost in my thoughts, it took me a moment to realize James was striding toward me. His Captain was gone.

James turned to me, his eyes shining. "That was awesome."

The tension in my chest eased a bit. He wouldn't be this excited about getting deployed, would he? "What? What did he say?"

"Not much of anything, really. Not yet, anyway. Sounded like he wants me to join this elite team of soldiers, but he couldn't give me too much information because it's all classified. He said they only recruit the best, though." He squared his shoulders in a dramatic show of confidence.

I was having trouble wrapping my head around this. "Wait. You didn't tell him yes, did you?"

He looked at me like I was insane. "Yeah. 'Course I did."

I gripped my fork tighter. "Without even knowing what it is exactly that you're going to do?"

"That's sort of the point of 'classified,' Cara. They can't tell you until after you have the certification. Otherwise they'd have to kill you." He grinned.

I shrugged off his joke. "But it could be dangerous! Actually, it probably _is_ dangerous as hell. They can't get people to commit to the program because of how dangerous it is, so they lure you in with all this 'elite' and 'classified' crap." I was madder than I'd realized I'd be. The thought of them recruiting James into something dangerous without giving him all the information made me furious.

"Hey," James said, patting my shoulder. "Chill, dude. I'm already in the National Guard and I'm a firefighter. I'm sort of trained to expect dangerous. Know what I mean?"

I sighed and shook my head. "Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm just...this worries me."

He smiled a knowing smile. "I know. It's because you love me so."

I rolled my eyes. "So, when will you learn more about this?"

"This weekend, I think."

I wondered why I felt sick to my stomach when I had as little idea as James did about what this might be. I was just being a paranoid fool. Right?

After the lunch, we did the official check presenting ceremony, where everyone made a donation to the fire department. There were cheers all around when I gave the chief Dax's check for an obscene amount of money, and I promised to pass on their sincerest thanks to Dax.

The event finally wound down, so I hugged James goodbye—a hug that Sheila Lawton watched really closely—and got in my car. The clouds were roiling now, wind beginning to gust through the trees and shake the foliage. The dark clouds had turned the early evening into night. If I wanted to be inside when the storm hit, I'd need to step on the gas pedal.

When I walked in the front door to Dax's mansion, silently cheering for beating the storm, I thought Victorine had the enormous fireplace in the living room going; the foyer right off of it was incredibly hot. But then I heard voices—low, seductive, beautiful voices. Was Dax back already? Why hadn't he called or texted me?

Right on cue, my cell phone beeped.

In Astaroth country. You won't be able to reach me for a couple of hours or so, but Victorine will help you with anything you need. I miss you.

I typed back a quick response and then pushed the door to the living room open, curious now. Five incredibly beautiful faces stared back at me—two women, including Victorine, and three men. They all had small, expectant smiles on their faces, as if they'd just been speaking about me.

I stared at them in utter silence. The fireplace wasn't going, and from their incredibly flawless, golden-hued appearances, it was clear to me what I was looking at: a convening of demons. I was suddenly, acutely aware that I was alone in this big mansion with Victorine, a demon who didn't care for me, and four other strange demons. No one knew where I was, except for Dax and my mother. Dax was hours away, and my mother...she wouldn't notice my absence.

The woman demon shifted in her chair, her smile amused now as she watched my paralysis. She was beautiful in a very Gothic way; her inky black hair hung long and straight down to her waist, and she wore a black netted dress that showcased skin so pale it was almost luminescent. She had makeup down to an art form—her eerie silver eyes were lined in black kohl and her lips were a deep, dark red. A silver bracelet snaked up her right arm, so tight it looked like a tattoo.

The three men were dressed less dramatically, but they were all still striking in their own ways. The two closest to me on the lavender settee had the same colored eyes—a brilliant, burning golden, like twin suns. One of them was dark-skinned with dark hair, and the other was light with blond hair. The one on the armchair closest to the darkened fireplace had a head full of curly yellow hair. His plump cheeks had a ruddy glow and he looked like he could be a cherub in an ancient painting. His eyes were the exact shade of the blue hydrangeas outside my mother's house.

The cherubic one was the first to speak. "Hello, Cara." His voice was soft and smooth, a perfect match for his face. "I hope we're not scaring you." He flashed his teeth in a beatific smile, but I couldn't help but feel an edge of menace he was trying to round out. Was it just my imagination?

I tried to wipe my sweating palms surreptitiously on my pants. "Of course not," I replied, a little too quickly even to my own ears.

"Then come, sit." The dark-haired man on the settee patted the empty seat between him and the blond. His voice was like rain on a tin roof—faintly musical, extremely lulling.

I found myself complying without quite meaning to. Before I was fully aware, I was seated between the two of them, my sweater and pants seeming way too hot for this room, for my proximity to two demons who were looking at me as if I was a rare prize.

The one whose voice was like rain even smelled like sweet rain water. His smile widened as he noticed me trying not to panic at finding myself suddenly between them. Not taking his eyes off me, he said, "I think it's remarkable, Victorine, that you can stand to be so close to Dax's betrothed without losing yourself. Her soul shines."

My heart raced as I slid my eyes over to Victorine. She looked bored as ever, her legs swung over the side of the armchair on which she sat, her dress riding up her perfect golden thighs. They wouldn't hurt me... would they? Not here, in Dax's mansion? _And what's to stop them?_ a small voice inside me whispered. Dax isn't here. Victorine certainly doesn't care. _She could just say it was an accident. That some other demons she didn't know took you away when you went outside._

"Not really." She flipped her blonde curls over one shoulder. It took me a moment to realize she was answering the demon. "It doesn't seem like it to me, anyway."

The blond male demon on my other side ran a finger lightly over my collarbone. I tried not to flinch as the skin there sizzled. "It has been fifty years since I've had a soul..." He laughed at the expression on my face. I was frozen with terror; I couldn't move. "Don't worry, dear. I'm merely thinking aloud. I wouldn't dare displease Dax. Victorine might never forgive me if I did."

I didn't quite understand what he meant, but I saw Victorine stiffen in my peripheral vision.

The cherubic blond crossed his wrists over his knee. "Not to mention, Rowland, that you got in quite a lot of trouble for the last soul you took that wasn't yours to take."

Rowland sat up straighter, his golden eyes flashing with anger. The dark-haired demon on my other side reached over me to put a restraining hand on his arm, but Rowland shrugged it away, his body giving off more heat than it had been already. I was beginning to sweat from the temperature and fear.

"It's like you to mention something that happened over two hundred years ago, Henry." Rowland balled his fists at his sides. They were smoking.

"Is that so?" Henry straightened in his arm chair. His hands were gripping the arms so tight I was afraid the wood would splinter. They'd already had to replace the fabric on one of the chairs from when Victorine had shredded it. "And why is it so 'like me'?" His voice took on a mocking tone at the end, and his pale blue eyes flashed to a deep bottle green.

"Here we go again," the Gothic-looking demon female said. Her voice was surprisingly fluty for her appearance.

"Because you're as petty as a human female," the blond next to me replied. He stood up, his movements so fast they blurred.

I cowered against the back of the settee as the dark-haired demon next to me got up too, his hand against the blond one's chest. "Rowland." His voice was a deep rumble, a caution. "Stop now."

But even I could see it was too late. Henry stood, his entire body smoking. Victorine was racing around getting all the things she could out of the way—the big wooden coffee table in one hand, her armchair in another.

My heart raced as I realized that they were going to get in a knock-down, drag out fight. I'd only ever seen one demon fight before, but it had been enough. I blinked and there was a thunderous crash. The fireplace that ran along the wall suddenly had huge gouges along its marble cladding, and huge chunks of it lay on the floor. The demons were a blur as they rolled toward the window, smoke hanging like mist over them. There was a cacophony of crashing and banging as they slammed into the floor and the walls, but they themselves were eerily, unnaturally quiet. When they'd reached the far end of the room, Victorine walked up to me quickly.

"You need to go to your room and stay there." Her eyes glittered with urgency. "Understand? I'll watch you until you reach the door. Go!"

I didn't ask any questions. I was beginning to question whether this surreal scene was even really happening. I just ran to the door and then fled to the guest bedroom that Dax had decorated for me.

Inside, I crawled under the covers and lay there, shivering. Thunder crashed outside, the windows barely letting in any light because of how overcast it was.

Holy shit. Holy. _Shit_. Had all of that really happened? The danger I'd been in started to really sink in and adrenaline seeped into every crack and crevice of my body. I couldn't stop shaking; my heart tried to punch its way out of my chest. Why did Victorine invite her demon friends to Dax's house, anyway, when I was staying here? Didn't she think that it'd put me in danger? She knew that most demons didn't live "good" lives like Dax, Oscar, and her.

But it was pretty obvious. She didn't care what happened to me, one way or another. I wasn't safe here. I curled up, hugging my knees, trying to stop the quaking. I needed to get out, get away. My need to speak with Dax was overwhelming. I knew I needed to get out of the mansion, but I needed a comforting voice in my ear, leading me on.

With shaking hands, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and speed-dialed his number. It clicked straight over to voicemail. Right. He was with the Astaroth and wouldn't be available for a couple of hours. I hung up and pressed my eyelids shut, damming the tears.

Come on. Move.

I can't. Oh my god. There are DEMONS out there, fighting. And they want my soul.

I brought my phone up again and pushed another button.

"Cara?" That voice, always happy to hear mine.

I felt my heart beginning to calm just a smidge. "James?"

"What's wrong?" His voice was instantly serious, wary.

"N-nothing. I just need you to talk to me. Okay? Can you do that?"

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you. It's Dax, isn't it?" A shuffling and then a metallic tinkling, as if he was hopping up and grabbing his car keys.

"No!" The worst possible thing would be if James came up here. If anything happened to him, I'd never forgive myself. "No, seriously. It's not Dax. And...I just needed a friendly voice." Already, I felt much calmer. I got out from under the covers crept to the door, opened it, and peeked outside. The hallway was empty. I turned back to the phone and spoke in a soft murmur. "Just keep talking to me, okay? Tell me about your day. And don't worry if I don't answer."

"Cara, I don't know, this sounds—"

" _Please._ "

His heavy sigh crackled down the phone line. "Fine. I'm only doing this because you're my friend...and because I don't know where you are."

"Thanks, James." I crept out the door and began jogging down the hall. So far so good. I fled downstairs, taking the stairs two at a time, and raced past the living room door. It was still closed, thankfully, and I made it out to the foyer unnoticed as James told me about Sheila's dad, the pompous mayor, and how he'd tried to get Reggie to fork over some of the department's donation from Dax.

My heart was beating hard and sweat was dripping down my back, but James's steady, comforting voice kept me going. I threw the front door open and ran outside, not seeing Shuck, and not knowing if he'd even be any match for a group of demons intent on harm. Besides, who knew? Maybe these demons had brought their hounds with them, too, and they were out in the forest right now, watching me. I just hoped Shuck was okay. And if he wasn't, Dax would know before I did. There was nothing I could do at this point.

Once I was in my car and speeding toward the gate, I interrupted James. "Okay. You can stop now."

He exhaled. "You're safe?"

I grinned, exhilaration pouring into my system after that major adrenaline rush. "Yes. I'm safe."

"I want to see for myself. Meet me at Lake Pendleton in fifteen."

"Gotcha."

Lake Pendleton was a perfectly circular manmade lake, set into a grove of trees. In the summer, kids from nearby towns came here for picnics, and Edenites liked to complain how they trashed the place. Now, in the winter, the water was calm and still like a piece of glass, the moon and stars reflected as if in a second, mirror-image version of the sky.

I parked next to James's truck. From the skid marks in the mud, it looked like he'd arrived in a hurry. I walked through the trees to the lake shore. There he sat on a large boulder, my new best friend, looking out toward the water.

"Hey."

He wheeled around and hopped off the boulder in one smooth motion at the sound of my voice. Reaching me in three long strides, James gathered me up into a hug. His heart was pounding and his grip was a death grip as he pressed his chin into the top of my head.

I patted his back. "I'm okay."

He pushed me away a little roughly, holding me at arm's length to look me over in the moonlight. "What the hell was all that about? Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." I sighed. "Thank you for talking to me."

He let go of me and, grabbing my hand, nestled it into the crook of his elbow. We walked side by side to the boulder where he'd been sitting, and after helping me climb on, he sat too. We were silent for a moment, listening to the lapping of the water in the gentle breeze. Thunder rolled in the distance.

I saw James shift in my peripheral vision. "So...this whole thing had nothing to do with Dax?"

I breathed in the scent of magnolia as I contemplated his question. "Um, not exactly, no. Dax isn't even in town right now, actually."

"Quit tap dancing. Come on, Car. You know what I'm asking. He put you in some kind of a predicament, didn't he?"

I tipped my head back and looked at the stars peeking through the tree tops. "No. It's not his fault."

James's sigh dissipated into the night air. "I'm just glad you're safe."

I didn't respond.

"Is he worth it?" he asked, after another moment of silence.

"Worth _what_?" I glared at him.

He was still looking steadfastly at the lake. "The complications. That day at the fire house, he...he's real rough around the edges, I can tell. The kind of guy who doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself. I just, I can't see you in a long-term relationship with someone like that."

I wanted to snap at James, to ask him if eternity was "long-term" enough for him. But I reminded myself to breathe, to calm myself. He didn't know anything about Dax's and my relationship. He was basing his evaluation of Dax's character on three shaky facts: 1. His own crush on me; 2. Because I'd told him, before Dax had told me how he really felt, that I wasn't sure about Dax's and my relationship; and 3. The fact that Dax had burst into the fire house that day he was going insane with fear for my safety. It wasn't James's fault. He simply didn't have the right information.

I shook my head and looked away. "You don't know the whole story. Dax is nothing like what you think."

"Well, you could tell me the whole story. Clue me in. Maybe even come out to Old Mac's with Dax, let me meet him properly." He leaned back on the boulder on one elbow and looked at me.

I laughed. I couldn't even picture Dax in an environment like Old Mac's. "Um, yeah. That's not a good idea."

"Why not? What are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not _afraid_ of anything. Old Mac's just isn't Dax's idea of a good time."

James nodded knowingly, as if he'd expected me to say that. "Okay then." We sat silently for a few more moments. "What are you doing on Thanksgiving?"

I blinked, confused by the change in subject. "Nothing. I don't think my mom's going to be cooking a big feast."

"I want you and Grace to come to my parents' house. My mama's doing a big Thanksgiving dinner like she does every year."

"Really? Thanks." I smiled. "That's sweet."

"Yeah. But you have to bring Dax."

Oh, great. I'd walked right into that one. "What? I can't do that!"

He grinned. "Why not? You just accepted my invitation. If you cancel now it's just rude."

"You totally tricked me into this. That's not fair."

James shrugged. "I just want to meet the guy, Cara. Come on."

I blew out a breath. "Fine. You can meet him if it's important enough to you to trick me into it. Okay?"

"Thanks." I could see the whites of his teeth as he grinned wider.

I groaned and settled back against the boulder, the cold stone pressing into my back. "Now tell me more about that National Guard thing. You thought about it and decided not to do it, right?"

"Why on earth would I do that? I get to be part of an elite team, Cara. It's why people join the military in the first place—to kill the bad guys?"

I sighed. "Some people join for the free tuition."

"Well, I'm not one of those people. 'Sides, this is gonna be fun."

Fun. Right. I wondered if some people were simply born without the fear gene. "Don't you think you tempt fate enough by being a firefighter? Do you have to go do this, too? I mean, if it's about serving your country, you're already doing that."

He laughed. "It's not just about serving my country. I feel like I was _born_ for this. Born to protect what's important. What's precious." I could feel him staring at my profile, but I refused to meet his eye. This was veering too close to romantic territory for my comfort. Finally, he looked away.

"I don't understand it. But if you're happy, I'm happy." I sighed. "And worried, too. I don't like the sound of a classified, elite team fighting terrorists. Don't they have enough of those?"

He put an arm around me and pulled me close. "Ah, don't worry. I'm indestructible."

I laughed. I'd seen indestructible, and James with his soft, lukewarm skin wasn't it. "If only."

My phone beeped and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was a text from an unknown number.

Are you okay? Where are you?—Victorine

I typed in a response, anger churning in my gut.

I'm okay. I'll be back when Dax returns tomorrow morning.

_I'm okay no thanks to you_ is what I really wanted to type.

Please don't tell Dax what happened. It was an accident. Didn't know you'd be home before they left.

I chewed my lip and waited, wondering how I should respond. My phone beeped again.

I'm sorry.

I wanted to tell Dax just to see her get chewed out. But I wasn't totally immature.

_Sure_ , I typed. _No problem._

Maybe I was just completely spineless.

"Who's that?" James asked, trying to peek at the screen.

I put the phone away. "Just a girl I work with. Sorry." I stood up and navigated my way off the boulder. "I should get home before it gets too late. I don't want Mom to worry." Like she would. But I didn't know how to tell him that I didn't want to stay out in the woods too late in case demons came prowling. "You should go home, too. It, um, looks like rain."

"I don't usually melt in water, but okay." He stood up and we walked back to our vehicles. "We doing Kendo practice tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Standing between my car and his hastily parked truck, I put my arms around him and hugged him tight. "Thank you for being such a good friend."

He stroked my hair. "You're welcome. But you know what you can do to repay me?"

I pulled back to look at him.

"Give Dax my invitation to Thanksgiving."

I groaned and got into the car. "I will, I will."

James's chuckle floated to me on a breeze as he got into his truck.

It was hard to sleep that night. I jumped at every single sound I heard. I also checked on my mom about twenty times. But eventually I fell asleep and when I opened my eyes, the sun was shining in through the slats of my blinds. I sat up and stretched, the frightening realities of the night before receding fast. Henry, Rowland, and the rest of them weren't as scary as I'd built them up to be, right? I mean, sure, they were demons, but they clearly said they weren't going to take my soul. Besides, they were friends with Victorine, and she lived with Dax—she was pretty much his sister. So she wouldn't knowingly have put me in danger. Like she said, she hadn't realized I'd be home so soon. It was an accident.

Right?

A soft tap at my window made me shriek. I pulled the blinds aside and saw Dax's gorgeous face, smiling slightly at my wide-eyed, rat's-nest-haired self. I blew out a breath and slid open my window. A wall of cold air hit me in the face, but he didn't seem bothered at all in his black form-fitting t-shirt and dark jeans.

I smiled and stepped back. "Hi."

He sprinted over the windowsill without even having to use his hands to leverage himself. When he was in my room, he turned to close the window with surprising speed and then his hands were on my face, cupping my cheeks so gently. His soft, firm mouth closed over mine, his breath like sweet fire, his tongue prying my lips open.

Several seconds later, when my brain was able to form a thought, I pulled back. "I have morning breath," I said, clapping a hand over my mouth, my cheeks flaming red.

"You're perfect," Dax murmured, tugging my arm down and pulling me close again. This time when he kissed me, I didn't resist. His hands moved through my hair, slid down my back, and came to rest at my waist. I pushed myself harder against him, molding my body's soft curves to his hard, perfect planes. His heat pulsed through me, and sweat began to gather at the base of my neck and between my breasts.

He pulled back, smiling, and sat on my bed. Grabbing my wrist gently, he pulled me to sit on his lap. He smoothed my hair back from my face. "I missed you." His eyes roved over my face, devouring my features greedily as if we'd been apart for years instead of hours. "But what are you doing back home? I went up to the house, but Victorine said you'd decided to leave early."

I knew I had to distract him. If he continued asking for an explanation, I wouldn't be able to keep up the lies for very long. It was one of the hardest things, to look into his eyes and tell an untruth.

It wasn't too hard to think of a way to take his mind off of me leaving. My hands couldn't resist going over his face, tracing each of his perfect, blazing features. His golden skin, overshadowed with the slightest bit of stubble. His gorgeous eyelids, with long eyelashes that curved so gracefully. The high planes of his cheeks that gave him a decidedly royal look. His aquiline nose. His full, Cupid's bow mouth. That strong jaw, the perfect chin.

I kissed him softly on the corner of his mouth, thinking that he hadn't mentioned Shuck. That was good—it meant he was okay. "I missed you, too. Don't you dare ever leave me again. And I just needed to sleep in my own bed."

I heard his breath catch as my mouth moved from his lips to his chin to his neck, where his pulse beat strong and steady, several dozens of times faster than a human's pulse could. Before I could stop myself, the tip of my tongue darted out and licked the hot, sweet skin there. His hands tightened around me briefly, painfully, and then, in a blur, he was placing me a safe distance from him and moving even farther down the bed.

"Behave," he said, his voice not more than a growl. But the heat in his copper eyes told me that he wanted me just as much as I wanted him. He just wasn't willing to even entertain the thought of sleeping with me.

I frowned and clasped my arms around my chest, feeling suddenly exposed. "How do you stand it? Aren't you even the slightest bit curious about—"

"No." He cut me off smoothly, his infuriatingly beautiful, accented voice leaving no room for argument. "There's no room for negotiation here, my love."

I sighed, trying not to let it show that his rejection, however gentle and well-intentioned, still hurt my feelings. "All right. Well, then, let me get dressed and you can tell me about your visit."

He chuckled at my crestfallen expression. "I love you."

I couldn't help but smile at that. "I know."

When I was much more presentable, we sat at my mom's dining table. I drank my coffee while Dax watched me, a small smile on his face.

"You're beautiful. You do that bracelet justice."

I rolled my eyes, but I felt my cheeks heat up at the compliment. I touched a fingertip to the gorgeous bracelet he'd given me. "I think it'd look good on anyone wearing it. Now can you stop procrastinating and give me my present?"

When I'd come out of the bathroom, I'd seen the long rectangular white box with a crimson velvet bow on it. It sat by Dax's feet, safely out of my reach.

He quirked one corner of his mouth, trying to hold in a smile. "Well, see, I'm not sure you deserve this after all. It was supposed to be a present for staying at the mansion while I was gone..."

"Oh, come on. I technically did stay there. I just didn't sleep there." It was making me uncomfortable, talking about leaving again without having told Dax the truth about why I left. But I'd given Victorine my word.

He laughed and lifted the box easily from the floor and set it on the dining table. "Okay. Since you ask so nicely."

I grasped the bow to undo it, but Dax's hand was on mine, restraining me. I looked up at him, confused. His eyes were serious. "I love you. That's what this represents—that I only want you to be happy."

I smiled. "I know."

"Okay." His face relaxed and he returned my smile. "Open it carefully."

I frowned, wondering what it could be. I was expecting long-stemmed roses or something else equally romantic. But why would he tell me to be careful? When I finally got the top off, I had my answer.

Inside was the most beautiful sword I'd ever seen. It was a dull gray color and looked massively heavy, like it could slice a tree like it was a broccoli stem. The hilt was simple and yet exquisite, made of a metal that looked like silver with a faint golden tint. Small twisting vines were etched into it, and in the middle, a cursive letter "C" had been engraved. I lifted it carefully out of the box, feeling its sheer weight, its heft.

I looked at Dax, tears blurring my vision. "Is this what I think it is?"

He nodded, his face serious, his eyes never leaving mine. "Cold-forged iron. I ordered it a week ago and the artisan in Vermont had it ready for me. I know how important it is to you to have something with which you can defend yourself. It pains me that you feel the need to take up something so..." He gestured to the massive sword, its blade gleaming in my mom's kitchen lights. "Dangerous. And that you have James Spellman teaching you. I don't trust that he'll be careful enough with you—"

I didn't let him finish. I set the sword down in its box and threw myself into his lap, my lips crushing against his, my tongue hungrily exploring his mouth, my hands pulling him against me as tightly as I could. I wished, in that moment, that we could meld together, become one more fervently than I'd wished anything, ever. Dax pulled back, putting a hand on my mouth.

"Stop," he said, his voice husky, his eyes all heat and fire. "Please. My self-restraint can only go so far."

I shook my head, pushed his hand off my mouth. "Then stop restraining yourself." I put my hand against that delicious pulse in his throat. "Give in to me."

But his hands were around my arms, steel traps that wouldn't let go. "No."

I put my forehead on his chest, knowing I'd lost the battle. Again. Finally, I pulled back and took a deep breath. "Fine."

He put a hand on my cheek. "Cara..."

I got off him, went to my place, and put the lid of the box back on. "No, it's okay. Let's talk about the meeting with the Astaroth."

His face took on a sort of closed off look that I didn't understand, but before I could ask, he cleared his throat. "It's not good news."

My heart began to race as I slid into my chair. "What'd they say? Will they stop Marion's clan?"

"They didn't give us an answer." Dax's jaw was hard, the muscle there clenched tight. His finger traced the patterns on the tabletop, and I saw that he was beginning to absentmindedly pull up long shavings of wood.

I put my hand on his, and then jerked back. It was scorching hot. "Why not?"

Dax met my eyes, his burning. "They want to meet you first."

My stomach dropped like a chunk of ice cold lead. "What? Why?" I couldn't imagine many things worse than having to meet the judges of the demon world. And I couldn't think of a single good reason they'd want to meet me. But I could think of many bad ones.

"When I explained to them why I killed Marion's hound, they immediately latched on to the fact that it was to protect you. Being the Astaroth, they knew what kind of demon I was on sight—it's one of their many gifts.

"The Astaroth are vehemently opposed to Beleth demons trying to integrate humans into their lives. In the past, when Beleth demons have tried to marry their human betrothed and make a life with them, it's almost always ended badly. I've told you before that Beleth demons's betrotheds are almost irresistible to some demons."

Thinking of the dark-haired demon last night saying my soul shone, I suppressed a shudder and nodded.

Dax continued. "When another demon kills a Beleth's betrothed, it always ends up in a war between clans. The demon world is thrown into chaos for a time as clans pick alliances and territories are re-negotiated.

"The Astaroth want to meet you so they know who you are. And, I imagine, so that they can intimidate you into seeing how serious they are about humans and demons not meshing in any meaningful way." He clenched his fist, and smoke began to ooze out of his skin. "I wish we didn't have to bring you into it, but I don't see another way."

I composed my features before he looked back up at me so he wouldn't see how much the idea of meeting with the Astaroth—especially so they could scare me—disturbed me. "No, it's...it's all right. But...didn't they give you any indication on how they'd move forward with Marion's clan? Especially since they want to overthrow the Astaroth?"

Dax pushed a hand through his hair. "They don't seem to think it's an immediate, or very viable, threat. Since the clan is so small, the Astaroth believe they can't possibly do them much damage. So they believe they have time to think about it and, in the meantime, to meet you."

I gripped my coffee cup tightly. "Right. And when do they want to meet me?"

Dax held my gaze. "We should leave in two days' time."

Two days. Two days to prepare for meeting a clan of incredibly powerful demons with superpowers even Dax, who had them, considered "gifts."

Dax got up and squatted next to me, his arms enveloping my torso, overpowering me with his heat and fragrance. I began to calm down. I hadn't realized until then that I was shaking, every nerve on edge.

"It's okay," he breathed in my ear. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise. You are safe."

I wished I could believe that, but sometimes things happened in spite of the best of intentions. Sometimes plans and promises were made only to be broken. Now all I could do was wait and see how this would play out.

I can taste the tin of the sky—the real tin thing.

Winter dawn is the color of metal,

The trees stiffen into place like burnt nerves.

All night I have dreamed of destruction, annihilations

An assembly-line of cut throats[.]

\- _Waking in Winter_ , Sylvia Plath

Ellesmere Island. A place even more remote—by far—than Eden. That's where we were headed.

Part of the Canadian province of Nunavut, Ellesmere Island boasted a population of _five_ during the ten dreaded winter months. It wasn't called the Canadian Arctic for nothing.

Dax, Oscar, and I sat in the small office of the bush pilot in Resolute, a city that was considered the gateway to Ellesmere Island. I couldn't really tell what kind of a city it was. Currently, all I could see out of the three windows in the office was a blanket of white. The sky hung low, so covered with soft, gray clouds that it was impossible to tell where it stopped and land began. It looked like an endless ocean of cold.

I shivered inside my parka and Dax wrapped an arm around me. He and Oscar (Victorine had decided to stay behind, and Dax had to leave Shuck in Eden because the Astaroth demanded that he come "unarmed") were also wearing parkas to maintain the illusion of being human.

I snuggled into Dax's blazing hug, instantly feeling my muscles soften and relax from the heat. It was better than a bubble bath.

"Aren't you hot?" I darted a look across the desk at the pilot seated there. He was trim and tall, with graying hair and silver glasses, and looked to be in his fifties. Currently he was on the phone, explaining to a client that he didn't encourage inexperienced people to conduct their own private tours of Ellesmere Island.

"I'm a little uncomfortable," Dax replied, his soft French accent caressing my ears. "But mostly it's my movement that feels restricted. Our temperature doesn't fluctuate like yours."

"What _is_ your basal temperature, anyway?" I laid my head on his arm, feeling my eyelids begin to droop. Even though we'd driven to Canada from North Carolina in under four hours, it felt like it had been a long day. We'd flown in to Resolute, and I hated flying. I tried not to think about the bush plane we needed to take to get to Ellesmere. At least the skies were relatively clear.

"One hundred and eleven," Dax replied, after a pause.

I tilted my head back to look at him, taking in the uncertainty in his bright copper gaze. "Doesn't weird me out."

He smiled and pressed his feverish lips to my forehead, instantly igniting the hunger, that fire, inside my blood. I could almost _feel_ my body responding physically—my pupils dilating with lust, my lips parting slightly, my breathing getting faster as my pulse began to race. I tried to reel in my ragged panting.

Dax got still. He pulled his arm out from behind me and sat up straighter. "Sorry."

I sighed and shook my head. There was no point in him apologizing. If anyone or anything was to be blamed, it was fate.

The pilot hung up the phone and blew out a breath, looking at us with a big, cheery smile on his face. "Sorry about that, folks!"

Oscar turned from where he'd been studying a wall map of Ellesmere Island. "It's quite all right," he said, his French accent lilting. "You seem to be a busy man."

"It never stops," the pilot answered. He got off the chair and extended his hand to Oscar. "Freddy Watkins. I'll be your host to the beautiful Ellesmere Island."

Oscar shook his hand and withdrew it quickly. Even though he wore thick gloves, I was sure if he held on to Freddy's hand long enough the immense heat would seep through. "Oscar Dubois. This is my son, Dax Allard, and his fiancée, Cara Beaumont."

I blushed at the title, even though it was the best option. "Girlfriend" was too ridiculous for what Dax and I shared, and "betrothed" would definitely cause the good pilot to wonder about us, so "fiancée" was perfectly acceptable. Still, some human girly-girl part of me couldn't stop from conjuring up visions of me in a frothy white wedding dress and Dax in a tuxedo.

Dax leaned in close to me and planted a feather-light kiss at my temple. "I like the sound of that." His voice was amused, musical in my ears.

I turned to him, still blushing. "Me, too."

All of a sudden, I noticed the silence in the room and turned back to Freddy. Both he and Oscar were watching us, amused smiles on their faces. It was obvious they'd asked us a question or were waiting on something that we'd completely missed while we were having our moment.

Dax only chuckled easily. I, of course, blushed even brighter.

"I'm sorry," he said, his accent lilting sweetly. "I was a little distracted."

Freddy laughed heartily. "Yeah, I remember when the wife and I were newly engaged. That honeymoon phase is something else. Enjoy it as long as you can."

Dax looked at me, his face serious, his eyes shining. "I intend to."

Oscar cleared his throat delicately, directing our attention back to him. "Shall we leave? Freddy says the skies look clear enough for takeoff."

My stomach rolled. The idea of flying in a little bush plane to remote Canada was more than a little unnerving. The thought of what awaited me on Ellesmere Island—a tête-à-tête with the Astaroth—had been the source of my nightmares since I'd learned they'd requested a meeting with me. Still, I didn't have a choice. I was the guest of honor at this party.

Tucking my head back into the fake fur-lined hood of my parka, I stuffed my mittened hands into my pockets as Freddy opened the door to his office so we could all step outside.

The gusting wind brought a flurry of snow that crystallized on my eyelashes and turned my skin to ice. The winter clothing I wore was what I'd used at college in Chicago. There hadn't been time to order anything on the internet that would be more suitable for the Canadian tundra. Now, actually experiencing the frigid temperatures, I found it incredibly stupid that I'd thought normal cold weather gear would work here. _This_ kind of cold went right through layers and layers of clothes and thermal underwear like they weren't even there. I was sure if I grabbed a handful of my hair, it'd just break off. And I'd only been out in the cold for about three seconds.

I felt a brief touch on the bare skin of my shoulder and then heat trickled through me, wrapping around my muscles and bones. I began to thaw out, one internal organ at a time, as Dax kept his arm firmly around my shoulders while we walked to the plane. One of his hands was pushed inside the collar of my shirt so I could feel his scorching heat.

"Th-thank you." I hadn't even realized my teeth were chattering until I tried to speak.

He frowned down at me and picked up the pace so I had to run to keep up. The exertion helped raise my body temperature, and when we stepped up to the waiting bush plane, my heart was working hard.

Freddy had parked the plane only a few yards from his office, but the frigid, ungodly cold made it feel like an eternity before I was stepping up and into the warm interior. Dax slid into the seat beside me and took my mittened hand in his gloved ones.

His eyes bore into mine, and he didn't return my wan smile. "Are you all right?"

A spike of pain stabbed through my fingers as feeling returned. I winced. "I'm fine." Once the pain receded, heat began to pulse through, turning my blood into liquid again. I smiled, with more feeling this time. "That feels better."

"Here we go," Freddy said from the front seat. Oscar sat beside him, looking with interest at the instrument panel.

As we flew over the Canadian tundra, I couldn't help but be distracted from my discomfort. It was absolutely beautiful, like a magical crystal kingdom in some kids' movie. It was white as far as I could see, and even at this height, I could make out the coolest glaciers, snow caves, and other cold weather things I hadn't ever seen in real life.

"Pretty amazing, isn't it?" Freddy's voice was tinny over the plane's microphone. "It's crazy what Mother Nature can do."

He finally landed on a long stretch of snowy land much like all the others we'd flown over. "You sure you don't want me to call you a guide?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"We're sure, thank you," Oscar smiled. "Dax here used to be an outdoorsman. He's hiked the Alaskan tundra, not much different from this."

"Right. Well...if you're sure. Listen, you need anything, you just give me a shout. You have the satellite phones?"

Dax nodded and gestured to the pack on his back. "Yes. Thank you. We'll be in touch when we're ready to head back."

We stood and watched as Freddy waved to us once and then took off, the plane gliding off into the soft gray sky. I was already shivering inside my coat, in spite of Dax's arm firmly around my shoulders and his hand on my skin. I began to walk, but Dax clamped his hand down on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

"Wait a moment," he murmured in my ear. In that icy air, his sweet, tantalizing breath was like a warm drink steaming in my face. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes without realizing it.

He chuckled and I opened them again and tried to smile. My face was frozen solid. "I can't really feel my lips."

Dax looked grim when he spoke again. "Stand with Oscar, please."

I looked from him to Oscar, confused. Oscar smiled and held out his hand. "Let's go to a safe distance, my dear."

I complied without knowing what was going on. We tromped off a few yards and then turned around to watch. Dax was still standing in the same spot, but even at this distance, I could see the smoke shimmering and rising from his entire body.

Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the snow around him began to melt. It turned to water and almost instantaneously evaporated into steam, the environment around undulating with waves of heat, lending Dax even more of a god-like aura.

In a minute or two, the wall of heat hit me and, instantly, I began to sweat. Rivulets of it streamed down my back and face. I'd have to strip down to my bra and panties if Dax didn't stop soon. As if he sensed my thoughts, the heat began to recede until it was down to a comfortable, balmy temperature.

"It's safe to go forward now," Oscar said, walking toward Dax. I followed, marveling at the snow that was now turning to rain— _warm_ rain—before it hit me.

I threw my arms around Dax. He was much hotter than normal, and I had to pull away much too quickly. "Thanks."

He smiled and stroked my hair gently. "You're welcome. I'm just sorry I had to wait until Freddy was gone. You can take that parka off now."

I did, and was instantly comfortable. The weather felt more like spring in Chicago than dead of winter in the Canadian tundra, and I relaxed as Dax kept his arm draped around me while we walked.

"Will this upset the earth's environment on a global scale?" I asked, after we'd been walking about ten minutes. "I mean, with you evaporating and melting the snow."

Dax and Oscar both chuckled, and Dax gently tightened his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. "No. It wasn't a big enough or long enough change for that to have happened."

Relieved, I nodded. "So...how much farther?"

"We're here." Dax guided me left.

After a few moments, we walked past some snow-bowed trees and around a large snow cave. And then, suddenly, it was right there, as if it had sprouted out of the ground: a gigantic house that looked every bit the quintessential American farmhouse. But this one was four stories high with an imposing front porch and enormous white columns. The wide stone steps had been swept clean of snow, and at the base sat two giant stone gargoyles. Someone had cleared their faces of snow, but their bodies remained covered. The result was two giant, eerie snowballs with leering, grinning faces.

I swallowed.

"Here we are," Oscar said softly, laying a hand on Dax. I couldn't quite decipher the look that passed between the two of them.

We climbed up the stairs, but before we could knock, the double front doors swung open.

I found myself face-to-face with three of the tallest, most regal people I'd ever seen. They were beautiful in an ethereal sense, as if they belonged in a Photoshopped magazine spread about fairy kings and queens.

There was a woman in the center with long, straight blonde hair that fell straight to her hips. She was almost seven feet tall, and rail thin. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, her pale green eyes like sea glass. She wore a long, white dress that appeared to be made of chiffon.

The men on either side of her were just a smidge shorter, and packed with muscle. Where she was lean and thin, all sharp angles and lines, they were squat—if there was such a thing as "squat" at almost seven feet tall. They wore white tunics and white pants. I wondered if they were her bodyguards, though from the vibe I was getting off her, I'd say she could probably handle herself very well.

She studied me for a long moment with those sea glass eyes before turning to Dax and Oscar. "You've arrived."

As if on cue, the three of them turned and walked inside. Dax kept a hand at my back as we followed.

The interior of their house was made to match the outside, the farmhouse décor keeping everything coordinated. I wondered if the whimsical décor was meant to be some sort of sardonic statement. There were cheerful roosters on the yellow curtains, and the wall had wooden signs with sayings like, "Good Day, Sunshine!" What could be more discordant in what was, for all intents and purposes, a demonic courthouse? But then a more chilling thought occurred to me: Maybe they'd just left the décor in place after they'd done away with the previous, human inhabitants.

The woman took a seat on a plaid couch and the two men followed. Dax gestured to a chair and I sat. He and Oscar took their seats so they were flanking me.

"I've brought Cara as you asked, Althea," Dax said. "Now could we please commence with the meeting? I'm anxious to have her safely back home, as you might imagine."

Althea smoothed down her light blonde hair, giving me a serene smile. She reminded me of a light-skinned Cleopatra—she had the same dignified, long-necked grace. "Of course. I'm Althea, and these are Maximus and Augustine." She didn't indicate who was who. "You are Dax's betrothed. Do you know what that means?"

I glanced at Dax, and he nodded slightly. I wasn't sure what she was getting at—of course I knew what it meant, and she must know that—but I decided to just answer her question. But when I opened my mouth to answer, nothing came out save for a quiet, frightened squeak.

Embarrassed, I cleared my throat and tried again. Dax squeezed my hand gently. "Dax has explained it to me, yes. It means that he and I are...we're destined to be together." My cheeks flushed a brighter red as I clarified. "...To mate."

Althea nodded. The men just stared straight ahead, not at me but not at Oscar or Dax either. Their alert expressions made it clear that they were listening; they just refused to engage us in eye contact. It was unnerving. "And do you know what would happen were you to mate?"

"I could die and Dax might take my soul."

Dax's hand heated up and tightened around mine.

"That's correct. For this reason, we don't encourage an emotional bond between demons and humans. Unfortunately, Beleth demons like Dax often get too wrapped up and...it doesn't end well for the humans. Do you understand?" Her eyes shone in the dim light coming from the windows.

I knew what she was saying; Dax had explained it to me before. Demons were more likely to prey on a betrothed because they thought our souls were especially delicious. Or Dax might change his mind about taking my soul once I got pregnant with his halfling child and died an excruciating death in childbirth, dooming me to an entire existence in hell. Actually, I wasn't quite sure what happened to a person whose soul was taken by a demon. We hadn't talked about that because I didn't see it happening to me. I didn't believe Dax would ever do that, no matter how afraid _he_ might be of giving in to his demonic side.

"Yes, I do."

"And yet it appears you've made an emotional bond with Dax." She looked pointedly at our hands, clasped tightly together. "And it has already caused trouble in our world, has it not? With the clan in Louisiana."

"That was not Cara's fault in the least," Dax countered. Oscar tossed a restraining look his way, but he ignored it. "I was much too brash in—"

"I'm not concerned with fault. What matters is the consequence. And the consequence here seems to be an upcoming dispute amongst your clan and theirs." Althea stared Dax down. The room began to heat up, and the men beside her moved their steely, cold gazes to him.

Finally, I felt the fight go out of Dax. His hand returned to a much more normal—for him—temperature and his shoulders relaxed. "You're correct. And we'd very much like your assistance if the clan should decide to come to Eden."

"Yes, we would." Oscar's voice was calm. "It would be in your best interest as well, Althea, to put a stop to their plans. As we've said, the Louisiana clan appears to be under the impression that it can overthrow you and claim your position."

As if Dax and Oscar hadn't spoken, Althea's eyes returned back to mine. "How do you see your relationship with Dax progressing, Cara?"

I swallowed. "I'm not sure I understand."

"You humans, you have customs to celebrate your love. We mate, but you have many other rituals. Cohabiting, exchanging rings, uttering vows, yes?"

I nodded.

"Do you understand that engaging in _any_ of those activities with Dax means you will both be killed?"

She asked the question in an utterly nonchalant way, as if she was asking if I liked sugar in my tea. Dax moved my hand from his and balled his fists on his lap. They began to steam.

I swallowed again. "I do now."

Althea nodded and looked at Oscar. "I would like some more time to think about what you've asked of me. Why don't you stay the night as our guests?"

Alarmed, I darted a glance at Dax. I didn't want to spend another minute here, let alone the night.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Oscar replied, his tone as polite as ever. "We've arranged for our pilot to transport us back to Resolute."

"You'd better let him know your plans have changed, in that case." Althea smiled serenely. "I insist." Her eyes flashed to a deep bottle green.

Oscar and Dax exchanged a brief look and then Oscar nodded. "Yes, of course."

We were shown to our rooms by one of the men—Maximus or Augustine—the shorter and more muscular of the two. He strode before us in quick, long steps, and I had to jog to keep up. I could smell him even from a few yards away. His fragrance was like ice and mint combined; something frigid and particularly suited for a place like Ellesmere Island.

Finally, he stopped and opened a door at the far end of the hallway. "This is to be Miss Beaumont's chamber," he said. He walked back down the way we'd just come and opened two doors located adjacent to each other. "And these will be yours, Messrs. Allard."

"I'd rather she was here, by me," Dax said. "You wouldn't mind switching with Cara, would you, Oscar?"

But before Oscar could reply, the man said, "Althea's orders were that the room on the far end was to be Miss Beaumont's."

"That is not acceptable." Dax stood up straight so he and the man appeared to be at eye level, even though I knew that wasn't the case. "Please tell Althea I said so. We will wait here until new provisions are made."

The man's eyes flashed to silver, the color of shiny nickels. Smoke began to ooze from his body. "Do you dare disagree with our Judge?"

"It's okay," I said quickly, my heart racing. I didn't want to provoke the Astaroth because I knew Dax and Oscar didn't have a chance against them here on their own turf. And the thought of something happening to Dax because of me...I couldn't bear even the thought of it. It was best to just agree to anything they wanted so we could get this over with. "It's really okay. Dax, I know you'll keep an eye out for me. Right?"

Reluctantly breaking eye contact with Althea's henchman, Dax looked at me for a long moment before nodding.

Satisfied, the man turned to me, his expression bland as if nothing had happened. "Althea has offered use of the kitchen downstairs if you are hungry." Then he turned and walked briskly away.

Dax opened the door to my room. "Wait here," he said to me before stepping inside for a few moments. When he came back out, he nodded. "It's safe."

I stepped inside. The farmhouse décor continued in here. The curtains were blue gingham and matched the bedspread. Above the bed was a wooden plaque that said, "Bless this day the Lord has brought." I wondered if it was some sort of joke to the Astaroth to have Christian sayings around the house.

It was funny, in a way, but I didn't see Dax as being the antichrist in spite of what Hollywood would have us believe. He wasn't evil in any sense of the word; I simply couldn't see him as the thing that took possession of the girl in the Exorcist. But the way the Astaroth were flaunting a down-home, human sensibility didn't sit right with me. There was a thread of menace that lurked under everything here, and it was starting to freak me out a bit.

When I turned to Dax, I saw anxiety flooding his eyes. "I'll be outside your door the entire night. I don't want you in here alone."

"Okay. But, you know, you could stay in here with me. Keep me company." I smiled, but my heart leaped in my chest at the thought of Dax and me in such close proximity to each other all night. It was a testament to my human hormones that even here, in the home of the Astaroth, that's where my mind strayed.

"That's not such a good idea, Cara."

I'd known he'd say that. It wasn't as if we hadn't been down this path many, many times already. "Okay." I stepped close to him and slid my arms around his waist. His scorching heat wrapped itself completely around my body as I put my head against his chest. His heart was steady and fast, a galloping horse. "I love you."

Dax snaked his arms around me gently. "Not more than I love you." He kissed the top of my head and that old electricity crackled between us. "I'm going to get you out of here as fast as I can."

"I know," I said. "I trust you."

At that, he sighed deeply. "I don't understand how you still can, but I am deeply grateful for it nonetheless."

He was doing it again; blaming himself for my being in danger. I knew he'd keep doing it no matter what I said, so I lifted my lips to his neck and kissed the spot where his life pulsed steadily.

His arms tightened around me as if on reflex, pushing the breath out of my lungs. I exhaled in a rush and my breath fanned against his skin. He let go of me, stepping back. Dax's pupils were completely dilated, his breath coming in shallow bursts. "I should allow you to undress; it's been a long day. I'll be right outside if you need me."

Disappointment banged against my chest but I nodded. He opened the bedroom door, and after a long look at me, closed it after him.

I stripped down to my underwear and rummaged in my overnight bag for my nightshirt. Back home in Eden, I'd tried not to agonize over what to pack. I'd known that Dax and I would spend a night in close proximity during the course of this trip. Still, I hadn't wanted to seriously consider the possibility that this might be when Dax decided to be irresponsible, throw caution to the wind, and sleep with me. I'd had my share of disappointments in that arena. But of course I'd picked out my lacy nightshirt anyway—the only sexy pajamas I had—just in case.

_Just in case, what, Cara?_ I asked myself, annoyed. It wasn't like Dax had ever wavered on his decision to not put my life in danger. He'd never wanted to cross the line as much as I had. He just accepted that we wouldn't be able to physically consummate our relationship and was somehow fine with it. But I wasn't. I wasn't fine with it at all. And it made me sad—sadder than I dared admit—that he didn't feel the same way.

I walked into the adjoining rustic-style bathroom and washed my face quickly. The water from the faucet was frigid, and my skin was instantly numb. I ran a brush through my curls and then went to stand in front of the gigantic, wood-framed, floor-length mirror. Looking into my own eyes, I sighed. There was no point in feeling this way, I knew. I knew Dax was so adamant about us not sleeping together because he loved me and didn't want to chance hurting me in any way. But... It still stung.

I walked back into the bedroom and climbed under the thick covers. They smelled a little stale from disuse, but they were warm and comfortable. As I nestled into the pillow, I sensed Dax's presence on the other side of the door. That electricity we usually felt between us was a rope now, crackling from my chest to his. I wondered what he was thinking about. I wondered what he'd say if he knew how much this was hurting me.

I let my eyelids drift close. Tomorrow was a big day, one I was consciously trying to avoid thinking about. Tomorrow they'd decide what to do about Marion's clan. They had to help us. It made the most sense, didn't it? I breathed in and out a few times, trying not to let my anxiety mount. I was safe for now. I just needed to breathe...

I stood before Lake Pendleton, back in Eden. The water was crystal clear; the trees glowed in the moonlight. A chill breeze whipped through the clearing, and goosebumps sprouted on my arms. Rubbing them, I turned in a circle as the owls hooted overhead. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, only that I needed to find it.

"Cara."

The whispered voice rushed past me. I couldn't tell if it was male or female or from where it had come. I looked into the trees, my heart hammering. "Who's there?"

Across the lake, a shadowy figure stepped into the clearing from in between the trees. At this distance, the figure was mostly obscured by mist, but I could see that it was tall—well over seven feet—and much broader than any person I'd ever seen. It walked upright and had a human shape, but how was it so big?

"Cara."

The voice drifted to me from across the lake, where the creature stood. I still couldn't make out any detail, but I knew that voice. "James?"

The creature walked forward. Once it was past the mist, I saw that it was James, looking like his normal self. The creature had disappeared. James smiled. "Hi."

I walked to the water's edge. I must be dreaming—how else could I hear him so clearly across the expanse of water? He didn't even seem to be talking very loudly. "What...what are you doing here?"

He kept walking forward, and soon he was wading into the lake. If the water was cold—and it had to be, in November—he didn't show it. He was still smiling as he walked forward, deeper and deeper. "I've come to warn you."

"Warn me about what?" I watched him nervously. The water was up to his thighs now, but he didn't stop or slow down.

"Things are about to get complicated," he said. The water was now up to his stomach.

I stepped forward, and the icy water numbed my toes. "Stop! You'll drown!"

But he didn't stop. He kept walking, kept smiling. "I'll keep you safe."

"James, stop!" I reached my hand out to him, but of course, he was too far away to take it.

The water was up to his chin. "I won't take any prisoners."

And then the lake swallowed him. I watched in silent horror as the water closed over his head. For a few moments, it bubbled. Then it stopped and it was as if James had never been there at all.

I screamed.

All of a sudden Dax was on my bed, gathering me in his fiery arms while I wept, my tears soaking into his shirt. I breathed him in—smoke and sweet spice—over and over until I began to calm down. The ringing in my ears began to recede, and the image of the bubbles subsiding as James died faded.

Dax's voice began to enter my consciousness; he was talking to someone. "She's all right. I think it was a nightmare."

I wiped my eyes against his chest and peeked out from under his arm. The tiny lamp on my night table had been turned on. Oscar stood in the doorway, his gentle face creased into anxious lines.

"Yeah, I'm—I'm okay." Even to me, my voice sounded pathetically small. "It was a nightmare...it just felt real." I took a deep, shuddering breath, and Dax tightened his arms around me.

"All right." Oscar looked from me to Dax. "I'll leave you two then. Good night."

When he was gone, Dax looked down at me, his copper eyes burning with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nodded and breathed in his sweet breath. "I am now."

He laid me back down gently on the pillow, his arms cradling me so I was barely jostled with the movement. He smoothed a strand of hair off my face, letting his fingers linger over my cheekbone and trail down to my chin. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

My heart quickened until it was bounding in my chest. I was sure Dax could see it battering against my nightshirt, if he hadn't heard it already. His fingers came to rest at the hollow of my throat. He brought his face close to mine, his lips hovering just a centimeter away from my mouth. My lips parted in an involuntary sigh as he closed his mouth over mine for the kiss I'd been waiting for.

I tangled my fingers in his dark, luscious hair, my tongue eager for a taste of him. For once he didn't push me away, but tightened his arms around me, pulling me flush against his body as we deepened our kiss. My breath caught when his hand pushed my nightshirt up higher on my thigh, his blazing palm moving slowly upward. His fingers dug into the tender skin on the inside of my thigh; I gasped, half in pain and half in excitement.

Dax pulled back from our kiss and looked down at me, his eyes burning like I'd never seen them burn before. Only a sliver of copper was visible, most of it eclipsed by his dilated pupils. His nostrils flared as he breathed in my scent, and I felt the racing of his heart against my chest. I could feel other things, too, like the immense heat pouring off his body, and the hard length of him pressed up against my hip.

I slipped my fingers from his hair and down onto his shirt collar. Grabbing tight, I tried to pull him in closer, but he was like granite—immovable. "Dax—"

His grip on my thigh tightened for a moment and then his hand was gone, the skin absurdly cool in its wake. "No." Dax began to pull away, to move himself off me, but I pushed my body up and pressed my lips against his, nipping and biting him, tasting, licking. He cupped the back of my head and pulled me to him again, matching me move for move like he couldn't get enough. His mouth slipped from my lips to my throat, his teeth nibbling the sensitive skin there. I could hear my panting in the quiet room; it was loud, harsh, wanton. I couldn't believe this was really happening. It was exhilarating—like every birthday wish I'd ever had was coming true all at once. I reached for Dax's belt buckle and began to undo it.

Then, with a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan ripping from his throat, Dax put his hands on either side of my body and pushed himself backward off the bed in one smooth motion. It slid toward the far window, taking me with it. When I caught my breath, he was standing about six feet away from me, his hands clutching his hair, bent over as he tried to calm his breathing.

" _Don't_ ," he half-panted, half-growled. When he looked up at me, the expression in his eyes was wild, tortured, and so unlike him that I felt my heart stutter in its tracks, thin wisps of fear tugging at it. Here was the evidence of what he'd been talking about all along—his lust for my body warring with his lust for my soul until one couldn't be distinguished from the other.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them. "I'm sorry." The words came out a whisper, barely audible over the roaring of blood in my ears. Fear began to ebb away as Dax gradually got a hold of himself and I was left with a familiar pang of hurt and disappointment.

Dax straightened, his chest still moving fast from his shallow breaths. He ran a hand through his mussed hair, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Then he walked forward, and with one hand, pulled the bed gently back to its original spot. He sat beside me, his expression still tortured, but now it was marked with pain and sorrow, too. He raised a hand up to my cheek, but before he could touch me, he curled his fingers back into his fist and put it in his lap. "Did I...are you afraid of me?"

In answer, I moved forward and laid my head on his chest. "I was for a minute, but not anymore."

He stroked the back of my head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." His voice trembled, giving away the depth of his emotion.

I shook my head. "It's not your fault. You were just... you were staying true to yourself. I just wish..."

"What?"

My voice was hoarse as I tried to hold back the tears. "I want you so badly, and I just wish you wanted me badly enough to want _all_ of me."

"Hey." He pulled back and cupped my chin in one blazing hand. His eyes shone with earnestness. "I _do_ want all of you." He laughed mirthlessly. "You have no idea how difficult that was for me, how agonizing, to pull myself off you. Cara, you...I love you like no other. And if something I did caused you harm in any way...I would perish. Do you understand? I would cease to be."

I squeezed my eyes shut. "I know. I guess I just wish we could be together like lovers are meant to be." I opened my eyes and smiled ruefully. "Stupid human wishes, huh?"

He shook his head and kissed me, gently, on each eyelid. "Not stupid. And not just human. I wish the same, Cara. I wish the same, I promise you."

I sighed and curled up into his arms. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

"Of course."

I jerked awake what felt like five minutes later. My room was completely dark again. Dax had laid me back down on the pillow and covered me with the soft, heavy down comforter. I stared upward in the complete darkness, listening for what had awakened me. There it was: a scraping sound. What was that?

Click.

I stiffened. This new noise hadn't come from the front door, but from the direction of the bathroom. But there wasn't a door in there. I sat up and tried to see through the darkness, but it was useless. My mortal eyes were too weak.

"Dax?" I whispered.

The wind was knocked out of me and I found myself flat on my back. At first I didn't understand what had just happened, but then I smelled him—ice and mint. I opened my mouth to scream for Dax, but he said, "Shh. Don't be hasty now. I'm close enough to rip your throat out before that scream even leaves it."

Panic and fear wove through me, turning my blood to ice. My terror was compounded by the fact that I couldn't see him. He was just a scent, just heat and immobilizing weight pressed into me. I lay still, freezing cold in spite of the demon's heat.

"That's better." I heard the smile in his voice.

"What do you want?" My voice sounded alien to my ears, thin with fear, tight with an anger that lurked underneath.

"That's simple: just a little taste." He ran his scorching finger down my arm and I shuddered.

He was one of the demons who were enthralled with the betrotheds of others. Marion had been too, but he hadn't just wanted my soul—he'd wanted to mate with me as well. I fought the rising panic and refused to let my thoughts go haywire. "Dax is just on the other side of that door," I whispered. "If I raise my voice—"

"But you won't, will you? Because you know it'll be the last thing you ever do."

Before I could respond, I felt his mouth close over mine. I tried to fight him off, confused and disgusted, but he held me down with barely any effort at all. And then he began to suck.

The vacuum he created around my mouth almost unhinged me. I didn't know what he was doing. Trying to fight him was like trying to push a concrete slab off me. Nothing gave.

And then...then the sensation changed.

First I got cold—colder than I'd ever been. I thought I'd been freezing earlier, exposed to the elements in my inadequate jacket. But compared to this, it had been nothing. This cold was so complete it felt like the absence of myself. There was nothing but the cold.

As he kept sucking, I had the oddest sense that I was deflating somehow. I got gradually numb, my panic and fear dulling into a gray nothingness. I closed my eyes, because the darkness in the room was beginning to seep into me.

And then, from somewhere far away, came an anguished roar. It sounded like it should shake the world with the force behind it, but it barely grazed my ears before floating off. The sucking feeling suddenly ceased. I opened my eyes, but it was still dark.

There were sounds of things being broken, crashing, but these, too, seemed like they came from a distance. I blinked and the room flooded with light. Squinting in the sudden brightness, I was aware that my corneas were burning with the onslaught of light, but the awareness was dulled, as if cotton had been placed over all my senses. Where had the light come from? What was happening?

Someone pulled on my arm, raising me to a sitting position. A beautiful French-accented voice growled, "No! Don't touch her!"

I turned, the deep void inside me slowly filling with the stirrings of love. A small smile played on my lips as I focused on Dax's gorgeous face, his copper eyes bright with something I couldn't quite understand.

Heat wrapped around me, instilling me with warmth, displacing that cold nothingness that had been there just moment before. Vestiges of things began to return—I began to see color the way I used to see it, sounds, besides Dax's voice, began to filter in. I blinked and then had the sudden urge to inhale deeply, which I did. My chest ached as it filled with air, oxygenating my blood. The cotton began to fall off my senses.

Dax's face sagged in relief. "Cara. Are you all right?"

I put my hand up to his face, pulling in another deep, shuddering breath. I noticed people all around—Althea, the two men, and Oscar. Althea faced me and Dax, while the Astaroth men and Oscar seemed to be staring at each other, the expressions on their faces inscrutable.

"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange to my ears, muted and sort of lifeless. "What's going on?"

A muscle in Dax's jaw jumped, and his eyes were pure molten fury. He half-turned toward Althea as he answered me. "We're leaving." His arm was solid around my shoulders, his hand clamped into the top of my arm.

Althea crossed her spindle thin arms across her chest and stared at him, her pale eyes unwavering. "I wouldn't advise that. We haven't finished our discussion."

Oscar shot him a warning look and then turned to Althea. "Perhaps it'd be wise to explain what we walked in on, Althea. Augustine—"

"Attacked Cara. It was at my bidding." She said this as if she was saying she'd asked him to provide me with extra towels. There was no hint of remorse or even indignation—there was nothing.

Dax stood. His fists were balled at his sides, and they were steaming. "Why?"

"To see precisely how you'd react. You've promised that you two won't take any more steps to endanger the peace within our world, and yet, you seem willing to destroy anyone who comes near her."

"He was trying to take her _soul_." Dax's voice was quiet, but his words were a snarl. The menace and anger sizzled just underneath. "You put her in this room with a secret entrance through the bathroom. You were aware of his intentions."

My heart raced. Augustine had been trying to take my soul? Is that why I'd felt what I'd felt—so utterly empty? A shudder ripped through me, goosebumps sprouting on every inch of my skin. What if he'd succeeded? What would have happened to me?

"It was a ruse. He wasn't really going to complete the process." Althea's tone was complacent. I wondered if she was telling the truth, or if she was just a good liar. "To see how far you'd go, Dax. And it seems you'd take on the _Astaroth_ to protect your betrothed."

Dax didn't answer. There was no point in denying her words. Of course she was right; that much was plain to see. Dax would cut down anyone who stood between him and me without a thought to the consequences.

"Now don't misunderstand," Althea continued, walking to the night table and absently picking up a little trinket box. "I do see why someone in your position might respond that way, Dax, especially after the unfortunate incident with Charlotte."

Confused, I glanced at Dax. His expression was stony, but there was fire in his eyes. His fists continued to steam.

"That was more than a century ago," Oscar interrupted, his voice cold.

"Yes, yes, but that sort of thing tends to stay with one, does it not?" She set the trinket box down and sighed. "Nevertheless, our determination is this: we shall not interfere with the decision of the clan in Louisiana. As far as we're concerned, you should not have acted as you did when the hound attacked Cara. And the clan is rather small—too small, we believe, to pose an actual threat to us. Of course, we will continue to monitor them."

The other matter is that of your betrothal. If you and Cara attempt to consummate your betrothal in any way except the acceptable way"—she looked from Dax to me to Oscar—"we will not be merciful. Your clan and Cara Beaumont's family will be wiped out unhesitatingly. Is that clear?"

I marveled at how she was able to make these cold threats without a change of tone.

"Yes. It's clear." Oscar answered for Dax because it was apparent Dax was too angry to be acceptably docile. "And now, with your permission, we'd like to leave."

Althea smiled. "Certainly. Unless you'd like to stay for tea. The sun's coming up."

"No, thank you," Oscar replied.

"Very well." Althea swept out of the room with Augustine and Maximus close behind. Augustine didn't even pause to give me a second look, as if it had been someone else who'd tried to take the very essence of my being.

Oscar came up to me and took my hands in his while Dax watched, hovering protectively. "Are you all right, my dear?"

I nodded, but my chin trembled as my eyes filled.

Dax sat beside me and pulled me into his lap. We stayed that way for a long time, until I was ready to move again.

Dax supported most of my weight as we made our way to his room. Oscar had already radioed the bush pilot, Freddy, and he was on his way.

I was amazed at just how weak I was. I was still freezing, my teeth chattering so hard my vision blurred. Dax wrapped me up in a blanket and put his arms around me as Oscar bustled off to my room to finish packing for me.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Augustine entered your room through the bathroom. There was a door hidden behind that floor-length mirror."

"It's n-not your fault," I said, trying to think warm thoughts, to let Dax's heat seep into my bones. "How did y-you know?"

"That he was in there with you?"

I nodded.

He pressed me to his chest and kissed my forehead, branding my skin with his lips. "I felt it. I felt that something was very, very wrong. A wave of sickness came over me; it was staggering. I pushed the door open to check on you—I thought maybe you were ill. But then..." He stopped. I heard him swallow and breathe in and out slowly. "Then I saw him on top of you. I saw him and I knew immediately what he was doing."

I shuddered, but not from the cold this time. "Thank you," I whispered.

He chuckled, but there was no joy in it. "You forget that if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even be in this situation."

I was silent for a little while, refusing to acknowledge his statement. Finally, I remembered what I'd wanted to ask. "Dax?"

"Hmm?"

"Who's Charlotte?"

All of his muscles tensed underneath me. "Charlotte was someone I knew a very long time ago. She... she died."

I could hear how much pain it caused him to talk about her, so I didn't press the issue in spite of the stab of jealousy I felt. Instead, I asked, "What are we going to do about what Althea said?" I couldn't imagine going a lifetime without being allowed to so much as move in with Dax, without going any further in our relationship.

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't know."

Freddy picked us up right on time, and the plane ride back to his office in Resolute was uneventful. When we were back in Oscar's car, I checked my cell phone messages while Dax and Oscar discussed the meeting with the Astaroth. I knew I should pay attention, but I was waiting on a phone call. My voicemail box was empty, and I had no new text messages. I frowned.

It was Sunday, which meant James had had his meeting with his Captain yesterday. I'd specifically asked him to text or call me the moment he knew more about his new assignment. He'd been chosen to be a part of an elite team of soldiers in the National Guard, something that just didn't sit right with me for a reason I couldn't put my finger on. James had promised to give me an update even if he had to leave me a message while I was gone, but he hadn't gotten back to me yet. It was totally unlike James to forget or renege on a promise, and I couldn't help the little barbs of alarm that were going off in my head.

I kept trying and re-trying his number on our drive home, but it just rolled over to voicemail every time.

Dax stroked my hair. "Still no answer?"

"No, nothing." I chewed on my lip, glaring at the screen of my phone as if I could will it to connect with James's.

He always answered his cell phone. Always. And for his silence to come now, right when he'd said he was going to find out more about the classified, elite team... Something wasn't right.

On my seventh try, someone picked up. They didn't say anything, but there was a silence on the line and his voicemail didn't come on. I clutched the phone tight and sat up straighter. "Hello? James?" No reply. "James? This is Cara. Can you hear me?"

More silence.

"Hello?"

"It's in your best interests to cut off all ties with him," said a voice. It sounded mechanical, almost like a pre-recorded, robotic message. "James Spellman has ceased to exist."

And the line went dead.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

IPPY award-winning author S.K. Falls likes to believe a degree in psychology qualifies her to emotionally torture her characters in an authentic fashion. When she isn't writing her twisted love stories, she can be found gallivanting around Charleston, SC with her family.

Visit her on the web at www.skfalls.com or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/authorskfalls

Read on for an excerpt from book 2!

FEVERED SOULS BOOK 2

Your friend is your needs answered.

He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.

And he is your board and your fireside.

For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace [...]

And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart [...]

When you part from your friend, you grieve not;

For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.

\- _Friendship IXX,_ by Khalil Gibran

EMPTY

I could barely keep myself in Dax's car until it had come to a complete stop. Unbuckling my seat belt, I opened the door and hopped out, racing toward James's front door.

His house was a small, squat ranch-style affair with thick bushes lining the front yard. I raced up the few stairs to the wooden porch, and knocked on the door and rang the doorbell simultaneously. I was aware in the vaguest sense that Dax was right behind me, his incredible heat shielding me from the winter. It was afternoon in Eden, but the sun's rays, muted through the clouds, provided barely any warmth.

Oscar, Dax, and I had just got back from our journey to Ellesmere Island in rural Canada, where we'd been visiting the Astaroth—judges of the demon world. We'd dropped off Oscar at the mansion before coming here to James's. I'd barely been able to tolerate the wait, though both Dax and Oscar drove much faster than the speed limit. The past few days had been some of the most terrifying and stressful of my entire life.

Not only had one of the Astaroth guards tried to take my soul, but the Astaroth had also refused to help us defend against Marion's clan's upcoming attack. And as if that wasn't enough, I'd had an eerie, heart-stopping conversation with someone who'd answered James's cell phone.

I'd called him because he had been strangely silent over the weekend. He'd promised to let me know how his meeting with Captain Reubens had gone, so I knew something had to have gone wrong. James would never go back on a promise, especially not when he knew how worried I was about him joining Reubens's "elite team" of soldiers.

"James!" I kept knocking and ringing the doorbell, but no one answered. The inside of the house looked dark, but with the blinds down, I couldn't see anything. Feeling more and more hysterical, I jiggled the doorknob—locked.

"Here." Dax's hand was gentle on my shoulder. "May I?"

I stepped aside, blinking back tears. James was the only friend I had in Eden; the only person who'd pushed past the barrier I'd erected. Besides Dax, of course, but he and I were fated soul mates—our connection existed on another level. James had made an effort to get to know me, and when he realized that his crush couldn't go anywhere because I was in love with Dax, he still stuck with me because he genuinely enjoyed my company. I hadn't ever had a friend like him.

With a quick twist of his wrist, Dax opened the locked door. He stepped into James's darkened living room and stood silently for a moment before turning on the lights. "It's empty."

I trusted his super senses, but I wasn't ready to leave yet. There had to be something to be gleaned from in here. "Maybe his room'll give us a clue about where he is." I walked toward the back of the house, looking for James's bedroom. Though I'd dropped him off a few times after Kendo practices, I hadn't actually been inside his house before. Seeing all his furniture and material possessions sitting in the dark made his disappearance seem too real, too ominous. I forced myself to focus on the task at hand as I stepped into a tiny room off to my right.

I turned on the light and looked around his tiny room; my eyes immediately settled on his computer. That'd be a good place to start.

I fired it up with Dax looking over my shoulder. Thankfully, there wasn't a password to input, so accessing his documents wasn't a problem. On his desktop I found a folder titled _Personal_ and opened it up. When I sorted the documents by date, files that James had scanned only a week ago appeared at the very top. My heart racing, hope pushing painfully against my chest, I double-clicked to open them.

They were consent forms from a company called E.M.T. Labs. They'd wanted James's permission to do MRIs, PET scans, EEGs, EKGs, and a host of other tests I'd never even heard of. I frowned at the screen. What was the point of all of these? And was E.M.T. Labs related to the elite team that Captain Reubens had wanted James to join? The timing was too coincidental; I'd bet anything the two were connected.

"That's a type of genetic testing, I think." Dax pointed to a scramble of acronyms in the list.

I turned in my chair to face him. "What kind of genetic testing?"

"I don't know." He thought for a minute. "But I have an idea of who would."

#

Paranormal Romance:

Fevered Souls Book 2

Fevered Souls Book 3

Fevered Souls Book 4

Dystopian:

World of Shell and Bone (Glimpsing Stars, book 1)

Moon (Glimpsing Stars, book 1.5)

Land of Masks and Moonlight (Glimpsing Stars, book 2)
Copyright

Episode 1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Episode 2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Episode 3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Episode 4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Episode 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

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Sneak Peak

Also by S.K. Falls
