

Also by Erin Zarro

Fey Touched

Grave Touched

Ever Touched

Reaper Girl

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Poetry chapbooks:

Without Wings

Life as a Moving Target

### In Flames

ERIN ZARRO

In Flames

By Erin Zarro

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 by Erin Zarro. All rights reserved

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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.

Cover design by Christine Pope  
Interior design by Erin Zarro

IN FLAMES is a work of fiction. Any similarity to a person – living or dead – is purely coincidental, as are any places, events, or locales.

Author email: ericon_22@hotmail.com

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Table of Contents

Blindsight

The Stranger

In Flames

The Beautiful Woman

Marionette

The Last Kill

Excerpt of Fey Touched

About the Author

Acknowledgments

A Note From the Author

BLINDSIGHT

"You understand that this is strictly experimental," Dr. Fisher said. "And chances of success are very low – "

"But it's possible, right?" I asked, biting my lip.

"It's possible," the doctor said. "But there are side effects that we aren't aware of."

Side effects? A bit of nausea, a headache? I could handle it. I could handle anything for the perfect health they promised me. "Doctor, I have terminal cancer. You said this drug could restore my health. That's all that matters."

"Let's go into the treatment room," Dr. Fisher said. He led me down a hallway that veered sharply to the left and into a nearly-empty room. "Go through there, please."

"Okay."

"Sit there," he said, pointing to a chair in the center of the room.

I watched him as he went into a cabinet and pulled out a baggie with powder in it. Huh?

"I thought you said it was a pill," I said.

The doctor glanced back at me. "It is easier to take it this way." He measured out a quantity of the powder, took out an empty glass, and filled it with water. He then poured the powder into the glass, stirring it with one gloved finger.

"It shouldn't taste like anything," he said, coming back to me with the glass in his hand. He gave it to me. "Drink now."

I took it in my hands and drank.

Warmth and tingles went through me.

Pressure filled my head until I thought it might explode.

Then the lights went out.

"Hey, why'd you turn off the lights?" I asked, my stomach clenching. "Come on, this isn't funny, doc! Turn them back on!"

"I haven't turned off the lights," Dr. Fisher said. "Are you saying you can't see anything?"

Panic made my mouth dry. "Yes! Why can't I see?"

"Hmm," the doctor said softly. "That's strange. No other patients have experienced this." I heard the scratch of pencil on paper. "Let me get one of my associates." Footsteps whispered across the floor.

An image came to life in my head, startling me. A man and a woman kissing passionately...in a supply closet.

"Your associate is a bit busy right now," I said. "You may want to wait awhile."

"What are you talking about?"

"I said to wait. Your associate is busy playing tonsil hockey with one of the nurses, looks like. Long brown hair in a braid – "

"My _wife_?" Dr. Fisher choked out. "You're mistaken. There's no way – "

"Check it out and get back to me," I said. This was kind of cool. I didn't like the idea of being blind, but being clairvoyant? Hell yeah.

I ran through other visions in my head while I waited.

The doctor returned, panting. "You were right. That little slut is cheating on me!"

I smiled. "Told you. By the way, you might want to check the pharmacy on level two. A man with white hair and glasses is stealing your narcotics."

THE STRANGER

"Are you sure this is what you want, mistress?" the witch Ida asked Caroline for the twentieth time.

Caroline tried to smile. Ida wasn't the most intelligent creature around, but she was all Caroline could afford. "Whatever. Just get moving, okay? I really need to see him again." Her voice choked, and she swallowed hard. Losing Tommy was like losing herself. She was tired of living without him. And she was especially tired of the lack of sex. Tommy had been _very_ good in bed.

Ida clapped her hands together and grinned. "Let's get started, then."

"Thank God," Caroline muttered.

The witch Ida pulled out a wand covered in glitter. She made shrieking sounds under her breath. Caroline's heart dropped. Was Ida even able to do this?

"I need something personal," Ida said. "Preferably your wedding ring."

Caroline frowned. Of _course_ the ninny needed something she didn't _have_ anymore.

She held out her wrist. "Take this bracelet. Tommy gave it to me for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary."

Ida's eyebrows flew up. "How pretty. This should do nicely." Her cold hands worked the clasp. "This is perfect, mistress."

Caroline wanted her to hurry up. She wanted Tommy back with her. _Now_.

"Okay, here we go." She held the bracelet in front of her, her lips moving, but Caroline couldn't hear what she said. Ida waved the wand dramatically.

A _pop_ and putrid smoke filled the graveyard. Caroline coughed, her throat burning. Her heart raced.

"Just a moment. The smoke will clear," Ida said from somewhere.

Caroline couldn't see a thing. "Why does it smell like that?"

"It's normal. We _are_ among the dead," Ida replied.

Caroline watched as the smoke slowly cleared and a man was revealed.

"Tommy," Caroline said, stepping forward. It was him! Her husband!

As more smoke cleared, Caroline felt nauseous. She was sure she was hallucinating.

The man in front of her wasn't Tommy.

"Honey! I'm so happy to see you!" He rushed up to her and laid a sloppy kiss on her lips before she could move away.

She shoved him away before he got any other ideas. "You're not my Tommy! Stay away from me!" She turned to Ida. "What have you _done_?"

Ida looked bewildered. "It should have worked."

Caroline got in her face. "Well, it didn't, you moron! Now fix this!"

Ida frowned. "But I _can't_. It's permanent – "

"But honey, don't you want to be together? It'd be so wonderful," the man babbled.

Caroline ignored him. "So you're saying that I'm stuck with this – loser?"

Ida nodded. "I'm sorry, but yes. It seems that he has fallen in love with you. Might as well make the best of it." She patted Caroline's shoulder and turned to leave.

"This is unacceptable!" Caroline screamed. "You will fix this! Now!"

Ida looked apologetic. "I can't. Learn to love him. He's yours."

And then she vanished, leaving her with the man that wasn't Tommy.

IN FLAMES

The Angel Fiona looked out into the town square that lay below her. Her people watched her with fearful gazes. It didn't matter that it was a virus, or that they'd had no choice. They had to atone for their sins.

She lifted her head. "What has happened here" – she gestured to the mass grave – "cannot go unpunished. I'm sorry. I sentence you all to the flames."

She raised her arms and called down fire. It lit in the center of the square and spread outward. People tried to run, but it was useless. They were trapped in the circle.

"You cannot do this to us!" a voice cried. "It was the virus! Please, have mercy!"

She looked to the man who'd spoken, an Elder. "You wish for mercy?"

"Angel, please hear me," he said, going to his knees. "You bear the virus. You put us here."

The fire inched closer. Fiona could smell singed hair and clothing. Some people were rolling on the ground, trying to put out the flames.

Fiona glanced at him. "That is not true and you know it."

"Have mercy," the Elder said. "But it's true. You bear the marque." He gestured to the small dot and swirling lines on her cheek. "You are the original carrier."

"You're the one?" a woman asked. "You _started_ this?"

Anger flared in Fiona. "That is ridiculous! The marque shows me to be an angel...not a murderer."

But too many people heard it and started to crowd around her.

"We must destroy her!"

"She's no angel! She's the murderer!"

"Traitor! You're a fake!"

"Where is our true angel?"

"Mommy." A child's voice startled her. "Aren't you the angel?"

Fiona looked down into her daughter's eyes. "Honey, of course! These people are scared – "

"Put her in the flames!" the Elder cried. "If she burns, we know she's not the true angel!"

"Great idea!" Her husband, Duncan, strode forward, his hair and skin singed black. "Have you tricked us all, my love?"

"You're all wrong!" she cried. "And you will pay for this!"

"Unfurl your wings," Duncan said, his eyes blazing. No one seemed to be afraid of her now. Her control was slipping.

"I cannot," she said. "Not enough room."

Duncan exchanged a glance with the Elder.

She found herself being shoved into the flames.

Her wings caught fire first. Agony ripped through her, and she screamed.

The fire seared her skin, melting her hair like wax. The pain was intolerable, and so was the betrayal of her people.

Her consciousness began to fade.

Clean air wafted past her. People had stopped screaming.

"You have freed me," a melodic voice said. "I am your true angel."

Fiona cracked her only working eye open. A glowing woman was addressing _her_ people. No! It couldn't be!

The true angel chuckled. "First things first. I will finish you off now." Her glowing eyes met Fiona's, and in them, she saw her own destruction.

And then she...was...no more.

THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

Henry couldn't stop looking at himself in the mirror. All his life, he'd avoided it. The missing nose and ears and misshapen head were too much to look at. He'd been a hermit, only going out into the world when he had to. Most people either stared or ran screaming from him. It was a lonely life.

But now, thanks to his fairy friend, he looked great. He had a nose and ears, and his head was shaped normally. He was attractive. He couldn't stop marveling over it.

There was a woman he'd kept his eyes on all these years. She worked in a candy store, and had the most beautiful blue eyes and long, thick black hair. He wouldn't dare say a word to her.

Until now.

He pretended to browse the different kinds of candy, trying to get up the nerve to approach her.

Taking a deep breath, Henry grabbed the first thing he saw: two bags of Twizzlers.

He dropped them onto the counter.

"Oh, I love Twizzlers," the woman said. Her name tag said Emma. "My favorite."

He smiled as he held out two dollars. "Nice weather we're having today, huh?"

Their fingers brushed as she took the money. "Yeah, it's lovely. Do you need a bag?"

Henry shook his head. "Nah." He picked them up and almost lost his nerve. "I don't suppose...would you like to go out sometime?"

Emma beamed. "I would love to."

Three days later, they were sitting in an Italian restaurant, deep in conversation.

"I really like you," Emma said. "It seems like I've known you forever."

Henry shrugged. "I've been around. You just probably never noticed."

"I would have definitely noticed you before," Emma said.

They continued talking and eating, not noticing the time. Soon, no one was left in the building except them.

The clock struck midnight.

Emma gasped. "Wha-what happened to your face?"

Crap! The fairy didn't say anything about a time limit! "I – uh – "

Then he noticed her.

She was missing all her teeth. Her hair was short, tangled, and greasy. She had claws instead of fingers.

He shoved himself back.

"Something's not right," he said. "Did you happen to meet a fairy who promised you a spell for beauty?"

Emma blinked at him. "Why, yes. I did."

"There was a time limit, apparently," Henry said angrily. "We've both been had."

She reached out to touch him with her claws. "It doesn't matter how we look on the outside. We enjoy each other's company. It's what's inside that counts, right?"

He pondered that. It was true. It may have been her beauty that had attracted him to her in the first place, but tonight it had been her personality that kept him riveted. Maybe he could get past her looks...if she could get past his.

"Why don't we start over?" Emma asked, holding out her clawed hand. "I'm Emma. Nice to meet you."

He took her hand in his, ignoring the claws. "I'm Henry. Pleasure to meet you."

MARIONETTE

He watched his latest work of art carefully. She hung from several meat hooks and swayed like a pendulum. She labored to breathe, her eyes squeezed shut and her jaw clenched. Blood trickled down her pale, naked body from the cuts he'd carved into her skin.

The waning light illuminated her as if she were on stage, moving in the circle of a spotlight. Seeing her like this delighted him, for his art was perfectly displayed this way.

There were words all over her: Slut. Stupid. Weak. Ugly. I am worthless. I am dirt. I am nothing.

And she allowed it, every single etching. Words covered her like confetti.

He could reach within anyone's mind and command them like marionettes. They danced upon his strings and smiled while doing it.

As he watched, something strange happened.

First, her shoulder twitched. Then, her eyes opened, revealing bright blue irises. He did not give her the command to –

A blow to his chin made him stagger, pain flaring. What the hell? When he got himself together and peered at the girl, she sneered at him with her hands on her hips.

"You bastard," she said. "How _dare_ you do this to me?"

He stuttered with panic. "B-but you...you're not – not supposed to – "

"Take me down _now_ ," she said, rage in her eyes.

Was his control slipping? Was his ability fading? He couldn't let her off the meat hooks. No telling what she could do. He had to keep her there somehow.

He took a breath. Reached out to her mind. "No. You will stay there and be quiet." He pulled his knife, drenched in her blood, out of its sheath. "Or else I will _make_ you."

Her eyes glowed blue, just like his did when he controlled people. "You _will_ free me now!"

His hand twitched, and the knife dropped. An uncontrollable urge to let her down grabbed him by the throat.

He fought it, but every time he tried to reach for the knife, something stopped him. She was controlling _him_!

"That's it. Now come over here and take me down," the girl commanded.

He planted his feet on the ground but they kept twitching with the need to move forward. He gritted his teeth and dug in his heels.

But his body wasn't his to control anymore. He watched, detached, as his body worked to free the girl from the hooks. She asked him for the knife. His hand twitched in the direction of the knife and picked it up, offering to her.

She grabbed the knife from him. "Now!"

Several men emerged from the shadows.

"We got you covered," one of them told the girl.

What the hell?

"The effects of the serum are wearing off," she said, and passed out.

Another man forced his hands behind his back. "You're under arrest for the attempted murder of Leila Fredrickson. Anything you say could be used against you in a court of law...."

THE LAST KILL

She chopped the vegetables quickly, remembering how good it felt to slice through human flesh and draw blood. She was rehabilitated, but she could daydream, right? Certainly they couldn't take that away from her. She'd never kill again, but the glint of the knife in her hand always took her back.

She smiled as she diced the tomatoes. God, she _hated_ Mexican food, but this was a Mexican restaurant, the only place that would hire her so she had to suck it up.

_You're a monster,_ a female voice said. _Once a murderer, always a murderer._

Who was speaking? She looked around her, but no one was paying attention. Had someone said something?

She shrugged and went back to her tomatoes.

_We know you want to kill,_ the voice said.

What the hell?

She nearly cut her thumb as she chopped the onions.

_You should feel guilty for what you've done,_ a male voice said.

She glanced around her, noting that everyone was busy doing something.

She was working long hours on not enough sleep. The nightmares made sure of that.

_But I'm rehabilitated,_ she protested. _I'll never kill again._

_One day the urge will be too much,_ another voice – a child! – said. _It's only a matter of time._

She slammed her knife into the onion. "No," she whispered to no one. "I'll never kill again."

_Bullocks,_ the male voice said. _You know it and we know it._

Who's we?

The voices spoke as one. _We're the people you killed and we'll never allow you to forget._

_But I want to make amends and be a better person,_ she said. She started on the lettuce.

_Your sins have tainted your soul,_ the child said.

_We stand in judgment of you,_ the woman said. _And we find you guilty of murder._

Her head throbbed and tears ran down her cheeks. "No, you're not real. I haven't slept and I feel bad and – "

_We are real,_ the child said. _So real that we can punish you for what you've done._

"Please," she whispered. "Don't do this."

_We can and we will,_ the woman snapped. _Now, to the punishment._

"No," she said.

_Slit your own throat. It is the only way to atone for your sins._ The woman chuckled. _Assuming God will have you._

_Go on,_ the male said. _We need to make this world a better place._

_Do it for me and the life I never got to live,_ the child said softly.

"You're not real," she said, slamming the knife into her skull.

A flash of light blinded her.

When it faded, the found herself suspended in the middle of nothingness, completely alone except for a strange beeping sound.

And then those damn voices started talking again.

For an eternity, she bore their lectures, loathing, and blame. Every day she took it as penance.

Until the day she broke free with the strength of her mind, raising to the surface of consciousness.

Struggling to sit up, she frantically groped for a wire, looped it around her neck, and killed one last time.

Read on for an exclusive excerpt of my debut novel, Fey Touched, book 1 of the Fey Touched series from Turtleduck Press!

Chapter 1

JOE

The woman lay in the cemetery on a bed of snow. Snowflakes clung to her blonde hair and sparkled like diamonds. Slivers of moonlight touched her serene face. Her skin was the blue-tinged skin of the Fey.

After turning up the heat in my coat, I reached out to touch her and immediately recoiled. She was so cold that I'd gotten a taste of frostbite, the cold stinging my fingers. Was she dead?

Pixie, a German Shepherd who was my companion and familiar, whined. She was right to lead me here, her thoughts urgent in my head.

She poked the woman with her nose. The woman did not move, did not even twitch. Pixie whined, poking the woman again. There was no rise and fall of her chest. There was nothing.

"What do you think, girl?" I asked.

Pixie gazed at me with eyes that reflected sympathy and intelligence. The thought – Pixie's – unfurled in my mind.

Not dead. Must save.

My heart thudded. I was Fey Touched, a Hunter of her kind. Technically, she was my enemy. I had the right to kill her on sight. Why didn't I?

I didn't like the Fey as a rule. There were Hunters who believed that all Fey were evil and must die. I was open to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, they were wrong. Maybe some of them weren't evil. That even without _mana –_ a soul – they could be good.

Maybe this Fey woman in front of me, lit by moonlight caressing her face, was one of the good ones.

I sat back on my haunches, my eyes flicking to the headstones as if they could give me an answer. I couldn't just leave her out here. She needed help.

I gently shook her and her eyelids fluttered, but she did not wake. I pressed two fingertips to her carotid. Slow heartbeat, but there.

"Shit," I muttered. I took off my coat and wrapped it around her, letting out a hiss as more cold wind hit me in the face.

Pixie danced around the woman, whining and yipping at me.

"Chill, girl. I got this." I took a breath and unfurled my wings, wrapping them around myself like a coat.

I lifted her and chuckled at how light she was. She wore a poofy green dress that was so out of place for the weather here. Which made me wonder if she'd come from a long distance away.

My need to protect and my calling as a Hunter of Fey warred inside me. It didn't matter who she was. She was an innocent and she needed help.

I held her close to me as I took to the air. Wouldn't want her to fall. "Hang on just a little longer," I whispered. "We're almost home."

As I touched down in front of my apartment, Pixie caught up with me, barking and sending frantic thoughts. _Warmth – safety – home – warmth –_

"We _are_ home, girl. Come on," I said as I entered the dimly-lit hallway that led to my apartment. I fumbled with the keys and opened the door wide, stepping into the small but cozy living room. I set the Fey down on the couch, then retracted my wings.

Pixie jumped up onto the couch and lay beside the Fey woman.

"Are you hungry, girl?" I asked, watching the dog. I could swear she was smiling at me.

I glanced at the woman again. She didn't move. I could hardly hear her breathe, and that worried me.

I quickly got Pixie's dinner together, some kibble and wet food, and headed back into the living room. She let out a low whine as I set the bowl down in front of her and rubbed behind her ears.

As she dove into her meal, I crouched in front of the woman and checked her pulse again. Still slow, still there.

I had no way of reviving her. Should I wait? Should I take her to the hospital? No, that would raise too many questions. If I could help her here, that would be the best thing.

"What do you think, Pixie? Should I try rousing her again? Or are you too busy stuffing your face?"

She glanced up at me, crunching her food, and I could swear she'd arched her brow. She was practically human, this dog.

I shook my head, chuckling. After a crazy day, this was just what I needed.

After about ten minutes, I decided to try to wake the woman up again.

She was Fey. She was immortal – at least theoretically. Still...

This time her eyelids fluttered and I was suddenly looking into the most beautiful shimmering eyes I'd ever seen.

ASHA

The first thing I realized upon waking was that I was no longer outside, or in the cemetery. I remembered running away from my royal wedding.

The second thing I realized was that I was in a stranger's home. A nice-looking stranger with longish brown hair and captivating blue eyes. A human?

The third thing? I wasn't dead. But I should have been.

I was cold. The blanket around me helped some.

So what had happened? He'd come to crash my pity party?

Hells.

I opened my mouth, and then snapped it shut.

There was a _dog_ sitting next to me. Eating something that smelled disgusting. Oh, boy. My people didn't like dogs.

I met the eyes that were watching me, trying desperately to place who he was. Nope, didn't ring a single bell in my fuzzy head.

Except maybe my libido bell, but we're not going there, are we?

"Hi there," he said, smiling. "How're you feeling?"

"Um," I said oh so articulately. "I'm cold. And a bit confused."

He nodded. "I figured that." He held his hand out to me, and it was a very human thing to do.

Once I extracted my hand from the blankets he'd swaddled me in, I touched my hand to his briefly.

"I'm Joe Vincent. And you are...?"

"I'm Saoirse. It means 'freedom' in Gaelic."

This was a lie, of course. He couldn't know who I _really_ was. No one could.

The illusion I'd woven over myself guaranteed that.

"That's a pretty name," Joe said. He smiled, and it seemed forced. "I – uh – found you in front of a grave."

_Can you explain that?_ was left unsaid.

Hells.

"I fell. I have no idea whose grave that was." I arched a brow.

Joe studied his hands, which were folded as if in prayer. I was almost positive he was human –

No, he wasn't.

He had _mana_ , the life essence of a human, but there was something more to it. I could see it burning brightly, golden like sunlight.

The Fey Touched had some of our enhanced genes in them.

So, even though he'd _technically_ saved my life, Joe was not my friend. His sole purpose in life was to track down and kill rogues. Or punish them, as I've heard whispered around Court. And the Touched did not associate with Fey for any reason – except to plunge iron stakes into our hearts.

I needed to get out of here.

I tried to extract the rest of my body from the bundle of blankets and failed epically. Hells.

"Hang on," Joe said. "Are you going to be okay? Should I take you – "

"You will take me nowhere," I said through clenched teeth. "I will be taking _myself_ out of here."

"Is this how you treat people who try to help you?" Joe's eyes flashed with anger. I could almost feel it rolling off of him in waves.

I didn't like his bluntness.

I _really_ didn't like that he was Touched.

"Saoirse," Joe said softly, reaching out to me. "Are you okay?"

I recoiled as if I'd been hit. I licked my dry lips. "Look, it's not personal, all right? I know what you are. So, thanks but no thanks." I managed to get some of the blankets off my upper body. And then I remembered my dress, which wasn't going to help matters.

"I saved your life out there. And I'd like to make sure you stay alive. That's it. Nothing more."

The dog finally decided to notice me. It jumped up and tried to lick me, and I moved away quickly before it could. Gross.

"Pixie likes you," Joe said. "Not a dog person, huh?" He patted his thighs, and it shot to him, leaping and licking and generally being, well, _gross_.

"I'm not," I said, and resisted the urge to apologize. I was Fey royalty. I didn't need to apologize for anything. When the dog had settled down, I spoke again, this time from my heart. "Why didn't you leave me out there?"

Joe's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? I couldn't let you die out there." He started pacing, which only made me dizzy.

"Joe, it was none of your concern." My voice was flat, intentionally unemotional. I couldn't get emotional. I'd just managed to shut that part of me off. If I opened it again...things would get exponentially worse.

He spun around to pin me with his gaze. The dog whimpered. "None of my concern? Really? How does that work? I'm supposed to _protect_ people. Not kill them."

I could have argued that point, but I decided to let it go.

I shed the rest of the blankets with quick, sharp movements. I stood, taking care not to enter his personal space. I met his eyes, and so much writhed inside. Ghosts, maybe. "I know what your little tribe of hunters stands for. I've seen it firsthand. But that doesn't give you the right to determine someone's destiny for them."

My stomach clenched. Was I really fighting with this guy? Over him saving my life?

"Saoirse?" He was right in front of me now. Close enough to touch. I felt something deep inside, a longing, a stirring of something. I wanted to touch him. Run my fingers through his hair.

That was my hormones talking.

"I don't know what you want me to say," I said. "I hadn't intended on being found, damn it!"

"Well, _I_ found you. And I will help you get better." He glared down at me, daring me to do something. Infuriating, this guy. Who knew that the Touched were this insane? "Now, do you want something to eat?"

My eyes widened and my stomach growled. Make that a vehement _yes_. Bastard. "I must admit I am hungry. But you're under no obligation to feed me." I turned around, studying the space he lived in for the first time.

Dull white walls. Blood-red curtains. Plants in pots in several corners. Fake. Comfy couch with a charming array of colors that didn't match. A loveseat that didn't match, either. It was _orange_. Yuck.

At Court, everything matched and was handmade from the most exquisite fabrics. Seeing things like Joe's hurt my eyeballs.

My stomach growled again, and something occurred to me.

I'd fed right before I'd left. I needed to feed every few days.

I'd been gone a long time. And I'd been a wee bit preoccupied. That whole hiding and running for my life thing...

So why didn't I feel the need to feed, yet I was hungry for human food?

"Well, I'm offering," Joe said from behind me, making me jump.

I turned back around and almost bumped into him. I recoiled again. "What kind of food do you eat?"

He made a gesture for me to follow him. He led me through an archway and into a kitchen that looked...so much nicer than the living room.

He had an impressive set of pots and pans hanging over an immaculate oven. A knife holder and coffee-maker sat on an island that served as the primary space. No dirty dishes in the sink; in fact, everything I saw was spotless.

Microwave cart, small television on a stand, and pretty blue curtains. The wall was white with some type of texture I'd never seen. Now _this_ was more like it.

"This is...beautiful," I said softly. I reached out to touch the delicate curtains, the fabric sliding through my fingers, which made me think of Court, of ball gowns and tapestries. "How did you – what do you – "

"I'm a chef in my spare time," Joe said with a grin. "I'm sure you've noticed that this kitchen is better decorated and maintained. That's because I spend most of my off time in here cooking." With a flourish, he opened the stainless-steel refrigerator to reveal Tupperware containers filled with meats and potatoes, three types of milk, little wrapped packages of something that looked like pastries, a huge crystal bowl that held a colorful salad, and a pan of pasta that looked divine.

Hells.

He wasn't kidding.

My mouth watered. I didn't want to eat here, accept his hospitality, but what choice did I have? Sure, I could go outside in the cold and try to kill myself again. That was still an option, but I wasn't so sure I wanted to die now. It had been a moment of weakness.

I looked up into his oh so mesmerizing eyes. Damn him for having such pretty eyes. Damn his food. Damn the fact that he was a chef. Who was also my enemy. And therein lay the biggest problem ever. I struggled to get words out of my dry mouth. "Why are you doing this? Why aren't you killing me?"

He chuckled. "Just because I'm a Hunter doesn't mean I'm going to kill you."

"So what does it mean?" I asked.

He moved closer to me; I moved backward. The tango of hunter and prey. "It means," he said, taking my hand in his, "that I'd like to help you. Feed you. Help you recover from your suicide attempt."

He'd said it. He'd realized what I'd tried to do out there. I was such an idiot. I was so shocked and embarrassed that it took a few moments to realize he was holding my hand.

"Let go of me," I said, barely breathing.

He arched a brow. "Why? Does this make you uncomfortable?" He tightened his grip just a bit, and my heart raced. Hello, panic attack.

"Yes, it does," I said. No one at Court had ever made such gestures. He let go. "Let's talk food, all right? I can handle food."

His eyes darkened. He didn't look angry; to his credit, he looked thoughtful. Was that a good thing? Hells, I didn't know.

"Okay, we won't discuss your experience out there in the cold." He smiled. "We can discuss my food. What would you like to sample?"

The beginnings of excitement came over me. Sharing food could be a sensual experience. Hells, I didn't need to be thinking about _that_. Especially since all I had to do was go back home and claim my forty mates. The thought made me break into a sweat.

I focused on the open refrigerator in front of me and the pasta. Over the years, I'd grown to love pasta paired with a good pasta sauce. Some spices, just for flavor, but not too strong. My poor servants hated it when I sent pasta back because it was too plain or too spicy. Very few could get it just right.

"The pasta," I said. Are we surprised? Joe reached in and retrieved the big pan of pasta. "But wait – what kind of sauce is that?"

He bent over and smelled it. "I am a big fan of traditional pasta. This here is pasta sauce mixed with Italian sausage – "

"I can't eat that." Bile rose up in my throat.

"Allergic?" Joe asked.

I shook my head. I didn't want to tell him. It wasn't for just anyone to know. But I felt the oddest urge to be honest. Why? It wasn't like I trusted _him_...

"No. It's a Fey thing."

He arched a brow as he opened a cabinet above him and removed a beautiful ivory plate lined in gold. "What kind of Fey thing? It's not spinal fluid so it's no good?" He didn't look angry, but he sounded like it.

I didn't want him angry at me. I didn't know why, just that it would be bad. I could take him in a fight, I knew that. But my heart clenched when I thought of angering him.

Hells, what was _wrong_ with me? I never got wibbly over a human. Then again, this guy wasn't human.

"No, it's not that," I said quickly. "It looks and smells divine. It's just that we don't eat meat."

"Oh yeah, I've heard of that." He laughed. "That's just obnoxious."

I ground my teeth together. He just had to laugh, didn't he? "No. We believe the meat carries the animal's _mana_. And that could infect us with an animal spirit. So we avoid it."

"Do you, now?" he asked, staring at the pasta in the pan. "Tell you what. I'll make you a meatless sauce you'll love. Sound good?"

It did sound good.

But no matter how much I tried to make myself believe it, I wasn't a normal person doing something as normal as eating pasta. I was the Queen of the Fey, and I'd run away.

My people would be looking for me. Could be on my trail right _now_.

I couldn't let them find me. No matter what.

FALLON

"Come _on_ , is that the best you can do?" I asked Declan as we circled each other outside the compound, ignoring the other Hunters around us. He was close to staking me. I loved riling him up.

He pulled me closer to him until we were close enough to kiss. "How about now?"

I arched a brow and ducked, feinting right, flaring my wings out for balance.

He growled and lunged at me. I blocked his attack with my forearm, knocking the stake out of his hand.

"Well, looks like I win. _Again_." I picked up the iron stake and held it out to Declan.

"How do you move so fast?" Declan asked, his eyes dancing with mirth. He knew the answer to that question.

I grinned. "'Cause I'm special."

"Everyone, take it from the top!" shouted Robbie. He had put us through our paces. Every muscle in my body hurt, including muscles I didn't know I had. And I was sweating. Good thing we were only practicing.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Not again!"

"Yes again!" Robbie said. "Don't worry, we're nearly done for tonight. I'm not _that_ cruel."

We spun and lunged, attacked and parried. Over and over and over again. Arms and legs performing instinctive movements, minds racing, trying to stay one step ahead of each other.

My mind drifted. I thought about the dreams I'd been having about a woman who seemed so familiar to me, but that was impossible, as I'd never met her. Who was she? Could she be related to me somehow? But that couldn't be. I had no family –

"Fallon?" Declan's voice brought me back to reality. "Earth to Fallon..."

"I'm here," I said. "I was just thinking."

"Don't think too hard. You might sprain your brain," Anthony called out.

I flipped him the bird.

Just as we were about to drop, Robbie said, "Okay, that's enough." Thank Artemis.

Robbie moved to the middle row of Hunters. "Meditation and movement." Two Hunters parted quickly for him to join them. Everyone gave him the respect he deserved. He was one of our oldest and strongest Hunters.

A chilly wind gusted through, and I shivered. Night was coming, and so was the hunt.

Meditation and movement was just what it sounded like: the combination of a deeper state of consciousness and light, graceful movements to get into sync with the body. It had been developed by Robbie himself, and we ended our sparring sessions with it every time.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing deep.

I moved through a series of lunges and spins, light as air, the world falling away, leaving nothing but my slow inhales and exhales and the movements of my body and wings.

"It's a wrap," Robbie said, coming out of his meditative trance. "See ya at the meeting."

"Fallon," Declan said as he caught up with me. I was on the move, my stomach a bag of anxiety. "Where are you going? We're hunting."

I smiled weakly. "Yeah, we are. Except I need to cut out a bit early."

Declan's eyes narrowed. "Really? How come?" He fell into step next to me.

I tried to sound put out. "It's an appointment. Routine. Nothing worth getting excited about."

"Everything okay?" Declan asked, stopping ahead of me and blocking my forward motion.

I did not want him to know about this yet.

My brain played tug-of-war with itself: should I tell Declan about the dreams, or should I keep quiet about them? They were making me crazy, and I suspected something was up, but I'd just worry him.

Then again, I'd opened that damn door, hadn't I?

"Just some weird dreams I'm having. No biggie," I said quickly. "Probably due to stress. You've had vivid dreams before? The kind that seem real?"

Declan nodded. "Sure. Don't we all?"

"But these seem different somehow, and it's making me crazy trying to figure it out – "

Declan grinned. "Nothing like a good hunt to make you forget."

I tried to relax. Honestly, I did. But I couldn't forget her face, so pale and cold, or her lips moving in silent pleas. If I didn't find out who she was, she would haunt me forever.

### Chapter 2

FALLON

Declan and I stood in a small forest, hidden by a group of large trees. We were tracking a few rogue Fey that had come through here. Rogue Fey were Fey who "turned," becoming nothing but killing machines in their pursuit of _mana._ They especially liked _mana_ taken at the point of death, when it was most potent. Fuckers.

"Anything?" Declan asked softly.

We hoped that they'd been stupid enough to stay out in the moonlight too long and died, but we couldn't possibly be that lucky. Although moonlight was lethal to them, they insisted on hiding in the shadows and cloaking themselves in darkness.

"I don't know." I cast out my senses like a net, hoping to catch something I had missed. Fey called to Fey.

Nothing stirred. Nothing moved.

"Fuck," I muttered. "They were here, I _know_ it. Come on, you bastards. Show yourselves!" I spun around, my eyes and ears picking out things – the thick shadows that surrounded us, branches swaying in the breeze, the howl of a wolf.

Come on, Fallon. You're better than this.

Yeah, but shit, I was distracted in a major way. The woman's face was seared into my mind.

"Wait, I think I found something," Declan whispered. "That way." He pointed north, and I cast my senses in that direction.

What came back was a miracle. Three Fey. I tightened my grip on my stake. "Get ready to die, bitches."

We walked, not ran, toward the Fey. We knew they'd sense our approach, but I hoped they were distracted and didn't sense or hear us. Yeah, totally not gonna happen, but I could hope, right?

There was nothing wrong with hope, my friends.

By unspoken agreement, we ducked behind another large tree to assess things.

Minutes seemed to go by like eternities. I barely breathed. Declan had his Look of Concentration, a look that he got when he was in the zone.

"They're up ahead. And I believe they have a human with them," Declan said, his voice a soothing caress.

"Damn it _,"_ I said. "We gotta save that human. _"_

Our eyes met and we shot out of our hiding place, adrenaline pumping.

I noted things as I got closer: lit by diffused moonlight, there were three of the bastards overpowering the aforementioned human. A dark stain of blood on her neck stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Her _mana_ was low but not depleted. The soul suckers seemed to be arguing about who was next. How juvenile.

I moved into position. I wanted to see everything. Declan went to the opposite side in case they ran.

But damn, that was why we had wings.

Wings that I snapped out and released to their full span.

One Fey heard me and swiveled around. He was pretty – the Fey usually were – with long, glossy hair and piercing, almost hypnotic eyes. Oh, boy. I had to be careful around this one.

"Look who's joined the party," he said, his voice like a physical caress. I shivered. Okay, I _really_ needed to focus. He moved toward me, a smile on his perfect face. "You're welcome to join us, Hunter. But I'm not sure you'll agree with our idea of _fun_."

"I don't really care whether we agree or not," I said, getting into fighting stance, stake ready to do serious damage. "My idea of fun? Watching you die. Right here, right now." I crooked my fingers in a _come to me_ gesture.

"Really?" Another Fey, a woman, sized me up. "I don't think so."

She shot out from her place in the back and flew at me, fists raised. Her green eyes screamed with lethal fury. Yeah, they got a bit irritated when we tried to take them out.

But alas, I wasn't afraid.

One thrust of my stake into her and she would be done.

Still, I liked a challenge.

Before she touched me, I shoved her as hard as I could. She swayed, fell to her knees, and somersaulted up.

My lower lip curled in derision. So she fancied herself a gymnast, huh?

I went airborne, beating my wings, catching the slight breeze. She watched me with wide eyes.

"Don't antagonize her," the male Fey said. "She likes to toy with her prey."

"Who's first?" Declan said as he strode forward.

The other male Fey, who had been silent until now, threw a punch that Declan dodged effortlessly. Ooh, I loved watching him fight.

Declan spun around in a roundhouse kick that sent the silent Fey flying. He arched a brow. "Who's next?"

The female Fey shouted at me. "Come on down and _get_ me, bitch!"

"My _pleasure_." Grinning, I swooped down until I was almost touching the ground in front of her. I pulled my arm back and got ready to stake her –

I saw the woman from my dreams. Standing in front of me, her eyes filled with pain. Wordlessly pleading –

Something sliced through my wings, and white-hot pain flared. I dropped to the ground.

Damn it. I'd been hit.

As I tried to catch my breath, the Fey female advanced on me. "Not so invincible now, huh?" she purred.

I crouched, trying to get my bearings. The world swam in a liquid haze as my body fought to repair the damage.

"Fallon, don't move," Declan said from somewhere to my right. "I got this."

I gripped my stake hard enough to leave marks.

I let the pain guide me, spur me on.

I could do this.

A shadow hovered over me. A stinking Fey shadow.

Before Declan could reach her, I lunged upwards and drove my stake into her heart. And then twisted it for good measure.

Her body smoked, raising thick and pungent in the air. Smokin' Fey never smelled so good.

After a few seconds, she caught fire, flames shooting high and amber into the sky.

I reached out toward the non-burning part of her and yanked my stake out. It dripped with Fey blood.

"Who's gonna be next?" Declan asked, flanking me on the right.

"Or do you wanna turn tail and run? Either way, we'll get you. Now or later, it doesn't make a difference." I tapped my opposite hand with my stake. "You're gonna die anyways, ladies."

"We'll get ya," Declan said, low and threatening. "We'll get ya before you even know what's coming."

As by some unspoken agreement, we launched ourselves into the air.

Two things happened: the morons fled. We gave chase.

They were too stupid to live.

We chased 'em. We staked 'em. End of story.

As I watched the fire obliterate their bodies, I gave thanks for the gift I was given. I might have some of those fuckers inside me, but I would never _be_ one of them. Never.

I would die a horrific, gruesome death first.

The human had passed out during our little party. When she came to, we assured her that yes, the Fey were dead, and yes, we would take care of her.

I hovered my hand over her chest, now coated in her own blood. Her _mana_ pulsed dimly but it was enough.

She wouldn't be going insane or rotting today.

"Thank you," she murmured. "They made me beg for it. Their hands...their teeth...I'm going to have nightmares."

"Shh," I said, gathering her into my arms, heedless of the blood. "No one's ever gonna hurt you again, okay? We'll make sure of that."

"They're dead," Declan said, patting her on the shoulder. "We'll get you looked at and into a safe house." His eyes met mine. "They'll never hurt you again."

I palmed my stake. "Never again."

Once we'd called for backup, Declan took me aside. "What's going on with you? You wouldn't let a fucking rogue get close enough to hurt you."

I sighed. It seemed so silly now, letting myself get distracted by a ...what? A vision? A hallucination?

"Fallon," Declan said in a warning tone. "Come _on_. We're best friends. Best friends share things, the good _and_ the bad."

Could he read me that well? Damn him.

I fiddled with my hair so I'd have something to do with my hands. "I'm not feeling so hot. It was a stupid mistake. An avoidable one."

His hand on my arm felt right, soothing. "We all make mistakes, you know."

I met his gaze. "But I haven't been as sharp as I usually am. I'm distracted and tired and I'm seeing things – "

Oops. I hadn't meant to say that, but shit, my mouth had a mind of its own today.

Declan's eyes widened. He studied me for a few moments. "You're seeing things?"

You opened the damn door, moron.

I didn't want to tell him. He'd think I was crazy, or sick, or screwed up. But he was my best friend, and that trumped everything. "Okay, fine. I thought I saw the woman in my dreams out there. Right before I was hit. It messed with my perception." I shifted from one foot to the other, acutely aware that Declan could report me. Would he do that? I didn't think so, but it was for the good of the tribe, so who really knew?

"So it was a hallucination? Maybe you should see Michelle. Get it looked at. Just in case."

"I'm just really tired. I'm sure it's nothing," I said. No, I didn't think Michelle could help me with this. Even though she was my best friend, and the closest thing I had to a sister.

But I knew who could. And I had the means to make it happen.

It was very simple. Bloodline tracking was the latest and greatest technology. Using an extensive database of Fey and Fey Touched, they could pinpoint my bloodline.

A drop of blood held the answers I sought. And my destiny.

#

The people inside the small reception area stared at me as I signed in. I supposed it was my leather _,_ or maybe my perpetual scowl.

The too-perky, too-blonde receptionist smiled. "Dr. Howard will be with you shortly."

I returned the smile, nodded, and took a seat in the far corner of the spacious, brightly-lit room. It was decorated in warm tones, from the sage green sofas to the deep red throw pillows. The coffee table was glass that shone so bright, I wasn't sure if it was real.

This was Howard and Sons, the best of the best when it came to bloodline tracking. They were the pioneers of the method and they were discreet.

The door on the side opened, revealing a short woman dressed in neon pink scrubs. Way to hurt the eyeballs. "Heather Abraham?"

That was me. No way was I giving my real name out here. There were all sorts of people I didn't want to know what I was doing.

I stood, took a breath, and followed the retina-straining trail of pink through a hallway filled with paintings and pictures.

We turned a corner, and then another, and we stopped in a sterile room that reminded me of the dentist, chair and all.

Neon Lady held out her hand. Her nails were painted, you guessed it, neon pink. "I'm Amy. I'll be assisting Dr. Howard during the procedure."

I just loved the way they talked 'round here. _Procedure. Assisting._ As if this were more than a prick of a needle and a computer readout. Crazy. But that was why I was about to pay them big bucks.

The door opened and a man entered the room. He was tall and thin and looked to be about twenty. He was clean-shaven and wore his long black hair in a ponytail that hung halfway down his back. That didn't exactly scream _scientist and genius_ to me, but what did I know? Maybe he had a rebellious streak.

He held out his hand, grinning. "Hi, I'm Gregory Howard. And you are..?"

"Heather," Amy supplied.

I put my hand up to stop her from saying anything else. "Actually, my name is Fallon, but I was being – "

"Dishonest?" Dr. Howard asked. But there was no judgment in his voice, just curiosity.

I couldn't look him in the eye. "Uh, discreet. I'm a Hunter, and I didn't want anyone to know about this."

Dr. Howard nodded as if it made perfect sense. "Ah, I understand. We get that a lot around here."

He then launched into a long, overly complicated explanation as to what they would do for the _procedure_ , most of which went flying over my head. But I tried to understand, I really did. The only thing I got was that they'd take my blood, run it through the database, and then Dr. Howard would interpret the results. Easy peasy, huh?

So I settled in to wait for Amy to get the vampire gear. In the dentist chair. Staring out the window at the ominous night sky.

"We don't get a lot of Hunters here," Dr. Howard said. "Don't you guys have a thing about keeping the bloodlines pure?"

I nodded, glancing at him. "Yeah, we do. But I think I have a missing relative somewhere." I smiled. "So I'm investigating. It's what I do best."

"I bet," Dr. Howard said with a grin. "I bet it's an interesting life, chasing down the bad guys."

I let my eyes widen just a little bit. "Very exciting. Except the part where they get punished. That I could happily never see again."

Dr. Howard arched a brow as Amy reappeared. "Punishment?"

I leaned in. "It's top secret," I whispered. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you and Amy. And that would be way too messy."

Amy blanched. "Um, I've got the stuff. Let me see your arm."

She did the pokey thing while Dr. Howard fiddled with a small laptop computer. She took the blood and handed the vial to him.

"Come over here and have a seat," Dr. Howard said, gesturing to the seat that sat next to him.

My stomach clenched with nausea as minutes ticked by so slowly I'd thought time had stopped. That I was forever perched on this moment, waiting, dying. Not knowing.

"Here's what I'm doing. See this slide? I'm going to place a drop of your blood on it."

I watched, transfixed, as Dr. Howard took an eyedropper and sucked some blood into it. A drop of blood...

Then he dropped the blood onto a clear slide that was attached to a huge, scary-looking machine.

Amy took the eyedropper from the doctor.

He turned to me, smiling warmly. "Now the machine will analyze the blood, query the database, and come up with something."

On Dr. Howard's laptop screen, a bunch of words scrolled down. I squinted, but couldn't read them.

"It's thinking," Dr. Howard said. He typed. Changed screens. Consulted a tiny datapad I just noticed beside the computer. At one point, he glanced at Amy, who frowned at him.

"This is very interesting," Dr. Howard said. "The database pulled up something very...odd. I'm in the process of double checking and running the query again."

I felt as if all the oxygen had left the room. "Are you sure you're using _my_ blood?"

Amy chuckled. "Straight from your vein to Dr. Howard's hand."

"Wow, I've never seen _this_ ," Dr. Howard said a few moments later, facing me. "Are you sure you want to know what I've discovered?"

My gut twisted. Was it bad news? "What's wrong? I'm not like, an alien or something?"

Dr. Howard smiled. "No, but it's just about as puzzling. Look." I moved closer, my stomach churning.

He pointed to some numbers and a picture of a DNA strand. "The machine pulls up a bloodline name based on the DNA. You see this name here? This should be your family name."

I blinked. "That's _not_ my family name."

"I think I can explain why," Dr. Howard said.

I wasn't getting it. "Huh?"

Dr. Howard glanced at Amy, who shrugged. He looked at me dead in the eyes, and I tried not to flinch. "You know – and I know – you're Fey Touched. But this here shows that you come from a Royal Fey bloodline. But what's most interesting is that it's not a full match."

Clearly I wasn't hearing right. My legs collapsed under me. Dr. Howard and Amy jumped to catch me, guiding me back to the dentist chair. The room spun. "Okay, what are you saying? I don't understand."

Dr. Howard pointed to a list of numbers on the screen. "This shows us that your DNA has been altered."

"Well, no kidding. I'm Touched."

Dr. Howard shook his head. "No. These weren't the modifications for the Fey Touched, at least according to the official records."

I glanced at Amy, who shrugged helplessly.

Dr. Howard went back to the computer and pulled up something else. "Your family tree, based on your DNA."

I stood even though the room pirouetted around me. "My family tree?" I looked at the screen and this time, I almost fainted for real.

The family tree I was looking at was _not_ the family I belonged to. And the bloodline name he'd shown me wasn't the one I'd grown up with...

Which meant...holy crap, was I _adopted_? Whose family did I belong to?

My stomach dropped to the floor and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

My mother and father weren't my mother and father. In fact, according to this, I was part of the Royal Fey bloodline.

No fucking way.

I scanned the family tree again, looking for a mistake, anything that I could grab a hold of, anything that would give me reason to not believe this.

Off to the side, there was an unnamed, deceased female. But that barely registered.

"This is a mistake," I said, and my tongue felt like sandpaper. My fingers twitched.

"Bloodline tracking is ninety-nine point nine nine percent accurate," Dr. Howard said gently. "I take it this wasn't what you expected?"

Hell no. Understatement of the year.

It was wrong. It had to be.

#

"What the hell happened to you?" Anthony asked. "I heard a rumor that you got hurt."

"Yep," I said, deadpan. "They got me."

"No shit," Anthony said, shaking his head. "Happens to the best of us."

Robbie strode up to where Declan and I stood like idiots. We seemed to have captured everyone's attention. Lovely.

"Sounds pretty severe." Robbie frowned. "I'll excuse you from this meeting so you can – "

"No," I interrupted him, anger heating my blood. He was _not_ going to sideline me. "Thanks but no thanks." I went to the closest seat and sat down. Damn the rumor mill.

Declan took the seat next to me. "You look pissed."

I couldn't tell Declan the _real_ reason why I was angry. "I am. I let that bitch get close enough to hurt me." My hands clenched into fists. "That'll be the last time."

Robbie cleared his throat. "If everyone's ready?"

Nods and affirmatives all around.

"Some disturbing intel has come to my attention. There has been an increase in the rogue Fey population," Robbie said, turning to the large map tacked on the wall. He circled our city with a black marker. "For reasons we don't know yet, there seems to be more than usual here."

"What the hell?" Anthony asked, his brow furrowing. He stifled a yawn.

"That's what I'd like to know," Robbie said, his expression troubled.

Our job was to protect the innocents of the world from the rogues. But the fact remained – more were turning and there were only so many of us.

"What is this, the new hotspot for rogues? We should be so lucky," Matthew, one of the younger Hunters, said from the back.

That got a few chuckles.

"This is puzzling," Valia, who'd transferred here from a different city, put in.

Robbie glanced at everyone in turn. "I'd like for you all to investigate this further. Ask around, put feelers out. See if you can find out anything that could help us figure out why."

"I'd rather be fighting," I said. "But okay. This sounds messed up enough to keep me interested."

"That a girl," Robbie said with a smile. "I know you'll kick ass and take names."

Declan grinned. "Looks like we have a mystery to solve."

Robbie went over the rotation schedule and then ended the meeting.

We ended it with our closing ritual, as always.

Joining hands, we stood in a circle.

I closed my eyes.

"May we be as strong as the moonlight, brighter than the sun, and better than our predecessors. May we fight so humanity can live another day," Declan said.

"May we be guided by our senses," Valia said softly. "And may Artemis protect us."

"May we continue to kick ass," I offered with a chuckle.

"May we continue to exterminate the rogue Fey," Nick said.

"May we be the candle flame that shines in the darkness," Emily, our only other female Hunter, said softly.

"So mote it be!"

We lifted our linked hands and cheered.

Declan and I walked to the living quarters together. Yep, we all lived together in the same huge compound. It made things nice and convenient, especially in an emergency. We were hidden by a forest and state-of-the-art shield technology.

We never took chances.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked. Damn, the man knew me too well. "You're so quiet."

I arched a brow. "Shouldn't I be? I'm mad at myself right now."

Declan stopped walking and checked to make sure we were alone. "About the hit? Come on, mistakes happen."

"It's not just that," I said softly. "It's – I got some really bad news – "

"Whatever it is, you can handle it. You're the toughest Hunter I know."

"I try to be." Damn, my eyes filled with tears. I was _not_ going to cry about this. I'd deal.

He sighed and took hold of my wrist. "Fallon, I'm here for you."

I glanced at him sidelong. "I know...I'm still letting it all sink in."

"If you need anything let me know," Declan said softly. "I'm just damned sorry I can't take your pain away."

Was I that damn obvious? I sighed, my shoulders slumping.

"Come on," Declan said, pulling me closer. "We got some rogues to psychoanalyze."

Hearing voices of our fellow Hunters, I broke away from him as we went into the computer room.

The computer room was huge, filled to brimming with computers, printers, and scanners. There were at least twenty rows of equipment, and it was a bit claustrophobic, but hey, it worked for us.

I sat on the end of one of the tables closest to the door. While I waited for my computer to boot up, I contemplated my situation. What I'd decided to do next was risky as hell, but it would help me find what I was looking for much faster than the normal, legal channels.

I was acutely aware of Declan pounding the keys next to me.

Pulling up my email, I thought about what was most likely going to be in there. I'd requested an emergency appointment with Duke, the owner of the best – and only – timeslipping joint in town. He had a waiting list so long he was booked into the next two years. But as long as I was willing to pay the exorbitant fee, he'd move me up in the queue.

Timeslipping was on the cutting edge of technology. Using a drug known as faerie dust, made from the myelin sheaths of human cadavers, and a virtual reality computer environment, a person could effectively travel through time. Or timeslip, as it was called. Apparently, faerie dust allows us to access the other ninety percent of our brains that isn't used. We're connected to the environment, which more or less "reads" the imprints of time and puts them into pictures and words we can understand, and voila! All you've ever wanted to know but were afraid to ask.

I hoped Duke had come through, but in some ways, I was scared. I was taking my investigation to the extreme. Doing this was breaking the law, big time. But I needed to know the truth – if I was truly adopted, and if I really was part of the Royal Fey bloodline. The thought made my gut clench. I couldn't be one of them, I just couldn't!

I glanced at Declan, and his eyes met mine. I tried to smile, but I was too nervous. Too wound up. Too scared.

My stomach fluttered with anxiety and I couldn't stop tapping my foot on the floor. Finally, I got to my inbox.

Hi Lady F,

What you're asking for can be arranged. Go to the bar Tempus Fugit on First tonight. Tell the bartender that you want the House Special. He will know what you're referring to and will get me. And then we will conduct business.

Best,

Duke

There it was – in black and white. I knew Tempus Fugit. It was quite the happening place. But evidently, more was happening than met the eye. And how ironic about the name. "Time flies" for a timeslipping operation? Brilliant.

I could get what I needed. It was possible. I glanced at the computer clock. Not much time to spare.

"Wow, you look absorbed in something," Declan said from behind me. I jumped, my heart skittering.

I quickly minimized the window. I looked up at him, hoping I didn't look too guilty. "Something, yeah." I shrugged.

"Does it have anything to do with your bad news?"

I hadn't told him anything, and I wanted to keep it that way for now. But he'd keep hounding me until I told him, so I decided to tell him very little. Just enough to satisfy his rabid curiosity.

"It went okay. I have to have a few tests to rule out some unlikely things."

Declan arched a brow. "Tests? Really?"

I nodded. "Yes. And I need to see a doctor...in an hour and a half."

"Wow, this late? That's a bit weird," Declan said.

I shrugged. "He's fitting me in."

Declan looked thoughtful. "We could go there together, and hunt afterward – "

"We?"

Declan's eyes widened. "Of course. You didn't think I'd let you go there – wherever _there_ is – by yourself?"

Shit. "I can handle this. You could maybe start looking into the rogues?"

Declan frowned. "We should really do this together. I don't want you to be alone right now."

Huh? "Since when could I not handle myself?" Anger rose up in me, hot and dangerous. I was beyond capable.

He took my wrist in his hand, his thumb rubbing a vein there. "It's not that. I just feel that I could help you. We're a team, remember?"

Cue the guilt. I let out a sigh. "Of course we are. I just need...some time...by myself." I tried to look him in the eyes, show him that I cared about him. His brow drew down. "This damn bad news has shaken me up a bit."

"I'm sorry, Fal. I keep forgetting that you're not always this confident, kick-ass woman twenty-four seven. That sometimes you need time to regroup and reflect."

Put it like that... "You're the best. Don't ever forget it." He tugged me closer and we hugged, fire licking through my veins. There was definitely something simmering below the surface, something I'd have to ponder.

Before I could begin that pondering, I shut my computer down.

"Fal, what're you doing?" Declan's voice was tense. "What aren't you telling me?"

Damn him. He read me so well, it was as if he was in my head.

"I'm fine," I said without looking at him or moving a single muscle. "Just gotta shut everything down. You know how irritated Matt gets with us when we don't follow proper procedure." Matt was our resident computer geek.

I could _feel_ his eye roll. "Forget about Matt. He'll live." Ooh, was he annoyed?

I spun around to face him again. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I just need to be alone." I needed to get to that appointment, and I needed to find out what was going on. By myself.

I didn't look at Declan as I brushed past him, didn't even breathe until I was out of the room, out of reach.

### Chapter 3

ASHA

"So I'm supposed to love this?" I asked. The aroma coming from the pot on the stove might very well be something I could love.

Joe scooped up a bit with a spoon that gleamed in the bright light and tasted it again.

"Smells like heaven," I said.

Joe offered me a little spoonful. "Don't worry, I don't have cooties." When I hesitated, he let out a sigh that was too damn dramatic. "Come on, try it. It won't bite."

It was thick and bright red with those leaves floating in it. Joe hadn't added any meat as promised. I stuck out my tongue and took a tiny lick off the spoon.

And ...it was _amazing_. The flavor was pure tomato and spice, light on my tongue. It kicked a bit. And, damn him good and gone, I _loved_ this shit.

"Well?" Joe looked worried. "You still alive, Saoirse?"

For a second I thought I'd choke. Right, I remembered now. The person I really wasn't but was pretending to be.

"It's wonderful," I said, my voice hoarse. But it came out all husky like I was on the prowl, and I didn't like it.

Joe closed the fraction of a distance between us, his lips upturned in a kind of smirk-smile hybrid. It was...cute.

His arms came around me (somehow the spoon had disappeared) and he pulled me in close. I could feel his heart skittering, the soft fabric he wore, the tight waistband of his jeans and maybe something else.

Tears filled my eyes and I spun around so Joe wouldn't see them.

"Saoirse? What just happened?" His hand touched my shoulder. I pulled away from him, going to the window and its blood-red curtains. I'd gone against my people, against the Ancient Laws.

I had no right to be happy. To be with the enemy. I was a damn fool if I thought I did.

"I should leave," I said as the first tears fell from my eyes. "I am feeling better and – "

"What just happened?" he asked again.

I shook my head. "No. I can't do this."

"You're crying. Saoirse, what's wrong?" He gently thumbed my tears away. "Talk to me. Maybe I can make it better."

I would have liked that, would have let him. But I couldn't. And I couldn't tell him about who I really was.

Such a life of sharp-edged lies and dangerous secrets. I wished, just for one second, that I was a normal Fey, not royalty. And definitely not the First Breeding Queen.

What a wretched mess this was.

I held up my hand as if to touch Joe's cheek, my gaze catching his. He smiled and arched a brow as if to say, _what are you waiting for?_

I flushed. My heart kept skittering. In his eyes, I saw myself, and I saw beauty. I saw a possible future...one I'd never dreamed I could have.

"I wish I could do this," I said softly, my voice catching. Damn it all. "I wish I could ...lose myself...in you. But I can't. It would be a mistake."

He tilted his head to one side, considering. "Because we're enemies? Because I could care less about _what_ you are, Saoirse. It's _who_ you are that intrigues me."

When he looked at me, I saw lust in his eyes. And that triggered my own lust, and with it came a burning, searing hunger.

I craved him. Craved his fingers running through my hair. Craved the glide of flesh upon flesh, slick with sweat. I craved his tongue in my mouth and his cock buried deep inside me.

I wanted it so badly that I shook.

Like a goddamned addict.

Why was I having such a strong reaction to him? He was the enemy.

"Well." My voice was soft. "I like you, Joe. But we don't have a future together. This cannot happen."

Joe sighed. "Much as I hate to admit it, you're right. My people would have a serious problem with what I'm doing here."

"So why are you taking such a huge risk? You don't know me. I could kill you in your sleep just for fun." There was no way I'd ever do such a thing to him, but I wasn't about to admit it.

He nodded. "I know. But there's something about you that intrigues me. It defies logic and rules."

My heart kicked in my chest. "Don't do this. There's no point. I have to leave once the sun rises."

Joe frowned. He looked like he was about to protest, but then he surprised me. "Okay. I won't stop you." He tugged me toward the dining table and gently sat me down. "But we should get some food in you. You can't talk serious things on an empty stomach." He disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared carrying a huge, steaming plate of spaghetti. The aroma made my mouth water, my senses snap to attention.

Food would help. For now.

He sat the plate in front of me with a flourish. "I have garlic bread in the oven. And salad if you'd like some."

I looked up at him and smiled. So kind. So...vulnerable. And I'd bet my life that this spaghetti was out of this world. "Thank you. It smells incredible."

"Wine?" he asked, heading for the kitchen again.

"Sure," I called out. "That would be lovely."

It felt wrong to start eating without him, so I waited. Back home, everyone would have waited for me to start eating. But here? I was no one. I was not a Queen. Just a random Fey woman who tried to kill herself in the cold, dead night.

"Red wine and bread," Joe said as he emerged from the kitchen. The bread smelled wonderful, too, and I snatched a slice. Joe set two goblets down and filled them with the wine. He disappeared once again and returned carrying his own plate.

Finally, he sat down.

He spread a napkin over his lap, glancing at me. "Please, eat. I want you to enjoy it."

"With pleasure," I said, picking up my fork. I stabbed the thick spaghetti with it, twirling it. Then, I ate it slowly, savoring the rich flavors and firm pasta. Heaven indeed.

"Well?" Joe asked, bemused. He was eating his slowly as well.

I swallowed it, my eyes fluttering shut. "It's perfect. You are quite the chef."

"All for you, Saoirse," Joe said. His fingers brushed mine, and my eyes flew open, my heart trapped in my throat.

I pulled my hand away before I could enjoy it. I took a sip of wine and set my goblet down. Ran my fingers along the bottom. "This is strange. Are you sure this isn't your insidious plot to kill me?" I smiled, but part of me – the conspiracy-freak, paranoid part that had kept me alive for this long – wasn't so sure. Some creatures toyed with their prey before making the killing blow. Maybe that was all this was, an elaborate death game.

Joe's eyes darkened. He very deliberately set his fork down and met my eyes. "If I were going to kill you," he said, his voice all hard edges, "you'd already be dead."

I arched a brow. "Oh? You think you could take me that easily?"

He tossed his napkin onto the table and closed the pitiful distance between us, his eyes aflame with fury.

Dangerous?

You bet.

He snapped his impressive, enormous wings out and curled them around us, essentially trapping me in his feathery embrace.

I'd never seen a Touched's wings up close. They were inky black from root to tip, the feathers large and fluffy.

I wanted to touch them, run my fingers across their softness.

And I was seriously becoming a damn softie.

They were wings. No biggie, right?

Legend says that the brilliant minds of yesteryear who created the Touched wanted to give them an advantage that we Fey didn't have. Well, most of us didn't have wings. There were a few who'd mutated them, but they were rare. So the scientists combined avian DNA with our genes to give them the ability to fly. To get away faster. Or, hell, to swoop in and kick our asses.

Smart scientists.

They'd been purely for function, but Joe's wings? They were a thing of beauty and awe. I couldn't take my eyes off of them if my life depended on it.

"You were saying?" Joe smirked. The bastard _knew_. He knew he had me.

Screw that.

I stood and brushed those lovely wings aside, heading for the door. Nope, couldn't stay here and be mesmerized or whatever he did to me. You didn't need to kill someone to take their life away. People could die in other ways.

I'd go.

"Saoirse," Joe said, his voice tense. "Why are you leaving?"

It's your wings, goddamn it. I can't take your wings.

Hells. Life sure knew when to kick you in the ass, didn't it? It was bad enough that he – the enemy – had saved me from my suicide attempt. But this? This was utter madness.

He glared at me, daring me to do it. Knowing full well that I wouldn't. Damn it, he had me.

"You go out there and you'll die this time." His voice was low, worried. "I suggest not doing that again."

I met his gaze without flinching. "I didn't die out there, Joe. Maybe I won't die this time."

"You don't know that for sure," Joe said quietly. "Please, just stay here till morning."

Men. Especially Touched men. Crazy.

I went back to the table and sat down. "Fine. If you insist."

Joe took a sip of his wine. Twirled some spaghetti onto his fork, even though it was probably cold. That made me sad. Cold pasta.

"Mind telling me why you're so eager to die?" He didn't look at me, but those words held a command. He just kept eating, like this shit happened all the time.

I glanced down at my pasta, my stomach doing a cha-cha-cha. "It's none of your concern."

"How many times are you going to say it? Maybe it's not, but I _saved your life_. You owe me an answer, Saoirse. Something."

Damn him. He made me want to curl up in a ball and die. Or screw him senseless. I wasn't sure which I preferred at the moment. Both had appeal.

I set my fork down, and it clattered against the plate. "Okay, fine." This felt like slowly pulling my intestines out one by one. Painfully. But he did deserve some answers. I took a breath. "Here's the thing. I'm lost...and alone. And I...hurt. Every part of me, every cell in my body aches. And wishes. And dreams. And...I just couldn't take it anymore." Tears filled my eyes. Damn. I was going to cry again. I didn't want to, didn't want to open more of myself up.

"Saoirse, it's going to be okay. You aren't alone anymore. You have me." He rubbed his thumb along my hand, making me shiver. And not from being cold.

"We just met," I protested. "I think it's too early to be making promises."

The dog decided to poke me with its – her? – nose. I scowled down at her.

"Pixie can sense how you're feeling. She wants you to know she cares. Doncha, baby girl?" Joe stood and went to Pixie, very close to me, and rubbed her behind her ears. "That a girl. Yes, our friend Saoirse is very sad. But we need to make her smile again."

She leaped up into my lap, almost too big to fit, licking everywhere on my face and neck. It was really gross but I could feel the love coming out in waves. She was not the typical dog, that was for sure. Hell, in Court we avoided them like the plague.

I put one tentative hand on her head and rubbed. "Hi there, girl."

She yipped at me, her tail wagging. She poked her nose into my palm, urging me to keep going.

"This dog," I said, smiling, "is such an attention whore."

Joe laughed. "She is. But even better – she made you smile."

I just chuckled.

And then I sensed trouble closing in on me.

FALLON

Tempus Fugit was hopping when I got there. In the crisp, cold air, it stood out like a beacon in the gathering, oppressive darkness. Twinkling lights surrounded the roof, giving off warm, golden light, a counterpoint to the moon. It hung bright and shining like a pearl thrown into the sky.

People were _everywhere_ – standing on the stairs, lounging against the side of the building, smoking joints. One guy was actually asleep, his head propped up on the railing.

A crowd of women huddled together, laughing loudly and talking too fast to comprehend.

A couple stood below a tree in the front, making out as if they were going to be graded on their proficiency and enthusiasm.

I breathed deep as I walked up to the simple wooden and brass door. Knowing any Fey coming out would be really stupid - or suicidal - some of the tension in me eased away.

A big-breasted woman in a black satin bustier and the tightest jeans I'd ever seen stood at the door. She flirted with the men in front of me and laughed so loud my eardrums ached. Fun.

I moved to the front of the line.

"How may I help you, sugarplum?" She looked me up and down as if inspecting merchandise.

Damn it. I was _not_ merchandise. "I'm not your sugarplum," I hissed. "I'm here for a good time, not to dance ballet."

Big-breasted and Inappropriate held up her hands. "No need to get your panties in a twist. What can I do for you?" Her voice was now syrupy sweet. My teeth throbbed in sympathy.

"I'd like to enter. Before I grow old and die." I bared my teeth at her.

"Ten-dollar cover," Big-breasted and Inappropriate said, her hand whipping out.

I reached into my arm sheath for my stake. I discreetly flashed it, keeping my eyes on hers and my senses peeled for anything weird. You just never knew around here. "I am special, so therefore I do not pay cover."

I pushed past her and entered, feeling smug. Sometimes that little trick didn't go over well. But it was true: Hunters never had to pay cover at bars like this. Some even got free drinks.

Cigarette smoke and the sweet smell of pot swirled around me, making me cough. Damn, was I getting too old for this shit?

The bar itself was to my left. Stuffing down a growing sense of unease, I pointed myself in that direction.

I didn't sense any Fey. Or any Hunters. This was good. I didn't want this little visit getting around the office rumor mill. Ha, office.

There were booths and tables and a stage where a heavyset, balding man tried to make the audience laugh. Or even snicker. He wasn't succeeding.

I kept moving. I saw a few pale legs and a few groping couples, but nothing too weird. I tried not to look, tried not to think about what I was doing here.

After dodging a few tipsy people – and one who tried to grope me, yuck – I made my way to the bar, which was made of polished, shiny wood. It featured a large mirror behind the bartender, which reflected the lights like little stars.

The barmaid smiled as I approached. I stuck my hands in my pockets, trying to look like I did this all the time. Which I didn't. "Hello."

"What can I get ya?" the woman asked. She had a slight Irish accent, which soothed my frayed nerves. She was _good_.

I looked around me. Didn't notice anyone paying me any attention. Sweet Artemis, was I really doing this?

My throat constricted. "Um, what do you have?"

She rattled off a ton of names I'd never remember and then gave me an expectant look.

Here goes. "I'd like the House Special." Did my voice quiver a bit? Did I look like I didn't know what I was doing? Well, I didn't, not much, but didn't want to appear that way. Less possibility of being screwed, and not the fun kind of screwing.

The barmaid's eyes widened. "Oh yes, of course. Wait here." She turned and disappeared behind a black curtain off to the right side. I hadn't noticed it.

She came back out with a young, bearded man in tow. He was smoking a joint. Was this Duke?

I wanted my stakes right now. This guy gave me the creeps.

"This is the House Special," the barmaid said softly.

I nodded. "Okay, thank you." I glanced at the man, who was watching me, studying me.

"Young lady," he said slowly, making the words almost vibrate in the air. "What can a humble soul such as I help you with?" He gestured for me to follow him. I tried not to think about who could be watching, who could be whispering about me right this minute. Outta sight, outta mind.

"I am Duke," he said over his shoulder. "And you are Lady F, right?" He pulled back the shimmering black curtain and led me down a spiral staircase (seriously?) that made me dizzy. We ended up in a huge basement room filled with curtained-off booths.

Murmurs. A high-pitched laugh. A computer voice giving instructions.

"Yes, that's me."

He crooked a finger at me and we were on the move, weaving around people and equipment. His booth was in the far corner, right next to a huge mirror that gave me jitters.

Duke gestured to the lounge chair sitting in the center of the booth. He sat down in front of a huge computer and typed something very quickly.

I sat down, my heart fluttering. I'd done this on a dare once, a long time ago, and I'd been petrified.

This time was so much different, so much more monumental.

Duke spun around and met my eyes. "Are you familiar with the rules here? Discretion, addictive properties of dust, the mortality effect?"

I nodded. "I think so. We're not to tell anyone this place – or experience – exists. Faerie dust is addictive. And...remind me again about the third thing?" I'd drawn a blank on that one.

Duke frowned. "We call it the mortality effect. When you use the program and access the stream of time, the stream of time takes a payment – "

"I remember now," I said. "For every minute spent there, you lose a minute of your life. Unless you're immortal."

"In which case, you become more mortal the longer you spend in the stream. So I don't need to explain anything, remind you about anything? You've done this?"

I clasped my hands together to keep them from shaking. "Long time ago. Your equipment looks a bit different, but if it's the same type of thing, I think I'm okay."

Duke arched a brow. "We have an in-program panic button, should you decide you need it." He went to the back of the booth and opened a chest. Rummaged around inside and finally held up a virtual reality suit and helmet. "You can suit up while I grab a coffee. Then we'll get you started."

I nodded, watching him as he left. He talked to someone just outside one of the booths nearby. Then, he disappeared around a corner.

I remembered the difficulty I had with the VR suit and winced. Oh, well. I'd make it work. I took a deep breath as I started the process. I say process because it took forever to get it all on and right. It felt horribly bulky, but if I remembered correctly, it didn't feel bad at all once you were in-program.

I let out a breath. Inhaled deep. Exhaled. Closed my eyes and said a prayer to Artemis that I'd find what I sought.

Duke breezed in, holding a mug of steaming coffee. "I'd offer you one, but it would be impractical." He lifted his mug in a cheers motion, then took a sip. Set it down on the table. "Okay, before I inject you, I need to verify payment. You paid in advance, right?" He looked a bit chagrined, but hey, rules were rules, right?

"I did. By credit card."

He marked something off on a clipboard and then handed it to me. "I'll need you to sign this consent and liability form. So you can't sue us."

I scanned the document. Standard stuff, blah blah blah. I scrawled my signature as quickly as I could.

"You're shaking," Duke said. How observant. "Are you nervous?"

I blushed. "A bit. I'm looking for some...sensitive information. And I'm kind of scared of what I'll find." Why was I baring my soul to a stranger?

He patted my hand. "Anything worth knowing is scary, I think. But knowledge is power, right? So this'll help you."

I nodded. "Yeah. It will."

"Okay, let's get you going. I've got the dust, just need to make up the syringe..." I watched as he quickly prepared the injection, drawing up the shimmering faerie dust into the chamber.

"Ready?" Duke asked, holding up a cotton ball.

My heart wouldn't stop racing. My throat was dry. "Go ahead."

He hesitated. "Once I inject you, there's no going back."

"I understand. Do it," I said. _Please_.

"As you wish." He rolled up the arm piece of the suit and injected the dust into me. It burned like fire in my veins. He unrolled the arm piece and grinned at me. "Put on your helmet. Let's go for a swim."

### Chapter 4

ASHA

I could feel the Fey males like a pulse in my skin, a second heartbeat. They were out there, close, waiting.

My heart thudded, my mind raced. How was I going to fix this?

I cast my senses out, trying to get an exact fix on where they waited. Maybe they would bide their time.

And here I'd thought I'd hidden well enough. Fantastic.

"You okay?" Joe asked as he placed a large slice of some kind of yummy-looking cake in front of me, complete with powdered sugar swirls on the plate. "Maybe this'll make you feel better."

"It looks lovely," I said, biting my lip. I couldn't focus on anything else. Just that distant heartbeat in my skin moving closer and closer...

"Cassata cake. If you've eaten cannoli, it's basically made with the same filling. Chocolate chips, ricotta cheese." He pointed the fork at me. "Try it."

I picked up my fork, even though my stomach twisted with anxiety. It was only a matter of time before they got here.

And what would I tell Joe? _Oh, hey, meet the three men who will most likely execute me. Or make me marry my forty males. No need to panic._

Yep, that would go over really well.

I stabbed my fork into the cake and took a dainty bite. My eyebrows flew up as the taste assaulted me. Well, more like seduced me. Rich chocolate chips. Soft, semi-sweet filling. And the cake itself, which tasted heavenly. Damn.

"This is amazing," I said, trying to stop myself from drooling.

I felt them looming closer like shadows. Not long now.

"Well, good." Joe took a slow, exaggerated bite of his cake. "This is probably my favorite cake. I like that it's not super sweet but it has its own subtle sweetness and just a hint of that ricotta cheese."

I nodded. I didn't really get chef talk, but what the hell. "Very nice."

"I aim to please," Joe said with a grin. "Keep eating, girl. There's plenty."

They were on the periphery of this very section now. All they had to do was break the front door down, walk down the hallway, and break our door down...

The cake tasted like sandpaper in my mouth.

I couldn't ignore them. They wouldn't let me.

"You just went far, far away," Joe said as he stood and picked up his empty plate. "Care to share?"

"I've got a problem." I picked at my cake, not meeting his gaze. "I can't go outside because of the moon but there are people out there who mean to do me harm." _And that's the best possible outcome,_ I thought.

"Who?" Joe went preternaturally still, his face paling. "Where?" His eyes flicked to the door, to the windows. Every corner, even though we both knew no one was inside with us.

My heart skittered, my hands slick with sweat. "Three men," I said softly. "They will break the doors down to get to me."

Joe came over to me, still scanning the room for danger. I liked that. He was obviously good in battle, in tracking. "Why would they do that, Saoirse?"

_The Fey and the Touched were never meant to be,_ my mother, the previous First Breeding Queen, had told me. _You're polar opposites. A pairing with one would not only destroy you, but would decimate your very soul._

Hells. Did I believe that if Joe and I were to get together, he'd decimate my nonexistent soul?

I wasn't sure.

Hel-lo, Asha. Come back to Earth, Asha. You're a moron, Asha.

"I can't get into that. But we need to get out of here – and the moon's out – and – "

"Shh." Joe took my hands in his. I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. "It's going to be okay. I'll make sure you're safe."

"Why would you do this? We're enemies." I stubbornly clung to anything that kept me distant. If I could keep myself from falling for him, I'd be okay. I wouldn't be destroyed. I wouldn't have to wonder if I could trust him every day of my life.

"We are _not_ enemies, Saoirse." He squeezed my hands and pulled me closer. I could smell his unique scent of spices and rain. I could draw him into me.

Or I could walk away.

But something inside me ached, something I never knew was there. Something that I lost after I'd fled my people. Something I couldn't quite grasp – it was like trying to catch a shadow in the palm of my hand.

"We're far from that. To me, you're just a beautiful woman who I saved. You're not Fey. You're not the enemy. You're just you." His hand tenderly cupped my cheek and his lips met mine. Desire rocketed through me and sent me on a tailspin. It was like flying and having an orgasm all at once. It was heat and fire; flames and longing.

So. Much. Longing.

His tongue danced in my mouth as if it belonged there. I gasped and arched my back, letting him take control.

His arms tightened around me and he drew back, meeting my gaze as if to ask if this was okay.

Okay? It was absolutely amazing.

To answer him, I curled one leg around his waist and pressed my lips to his. I suckled on his lip, then nipped it with my teeth.

He let out a moan and grabbed me, pressing me against his erection. My core pulsed in response, parts of me aching for his touch.

I needed it. I wanted it.

And I could have him if I wanted.

I couldn't do this.

I pulled away with so much force that I nearly took a swan dive. Luckily, I possessed better balance than that and was able to remain upright. He staggered back but didn't fall, either. He ran one fingertip over his now-swollen lip.

"What are you doing? I thought you wanted – "

And then the door exploded in a shower of wood and dust.

As one, we dove for cover.

FALLON

"Initiate program?" a monotone female voice asked. A corresponding button hovered in front of me. The detail was amazing. It had gotten better since I'd last done this.

I reached out and pressed the button. It dissolved into the plain blue landscape I was floating in, then disappeared.

"Program initiated. Begin your query."

This was going to be the hard part. Narrowing down what I needed to know.

Suddenly, the landscape shifted and I was in fog. Murmurs swirled around me.

I lifted my hand and ran it through the fog, feeling for the time's imprints. They were keyed to DNA, so anything not involving anyone in my family would not be in the imprints available to me.

It is hard to describe what they feel like, especially through the VR suit. They're kind of like stones that make up a huge, long winding wall. Each "stone" is an imprint. And feeling for what you need to know is a bit tricky, and takes time (ha), but it could be done.

"I want to start a query."

"State your query," the voice said.

I swallowed. This was it. I was on the edge of a cliff, about to plunge to my death or take in the scenery.

"How am I related to the Royal Clan of the Fey?"

"Processing query."

Utter silence as the computer did its thing. "Three imprints match your query." Three red lights flickered through the fog. "Tap each imprint to see its contents, or say, 'start new query.'"

Three flashing lights.

I tapped the first one, and the simulation appeared, completely lifelike, in front of me. It felt as if I were _inside_ a movie.

Two women stood in front of me. One of them wore a beautiful red ball gown and a golden crown; the other wore a long green dress and a tiny circlet on her head. The Queen and someone important? A relative? I wasn't sure.

The Queen was in the middle of an argument with the woman. The cry of a baby brought me out of my reverie, made my heart pound. Who was the baby?

"She's not strong enough to kill me when it's time," the Queen said, her face distorted in a grimace.

"Huh?" My heart dropped to my feet. Who wasn't strong enough?

"She's beautiful and perfect," the Queen continued. "I can't bear to lose her."

"I know, my Queen," the other woman said sympathetically, laying a hand on the Queen's arm. "But the Clan needs strong leadership. Your one daughter would be perfect for the role. She's stronger than any other child I've seen in this Clan. She will serve us well."

Who was this perfect daughter? I was _so_ confused.

The Queen nodded, looking resigned. "This child must not know who she is. That way, we can prevent any attempts to claim the throne."

"I can arrange for her to be adopted out," the other woman said. "I know this is tough, but it's really for the best. She won't need to go through the experience of killing you. She'll be free."

The Queen's eyes glistened with tears. "I don't know if I can do this. She's _my_ child, my flesh and blood."

"You can record her in the records as deceased and unnamed. This way, there will be record of her, but no one will know who she is." The woman shrugged. "If that's something that's important to you."

"So she can track her lineage when it's time," the Queen mused. "I need to find the strength to do this."

"You must," the other woman said tightly. "You are our Queen."

"I can do this," the Queen declared. "It is the only way for the Clan to continue. We'll let Ashalynn take the throne. And Fallon, well, she'll be better off without all of this. She will live a full, perfectly normal life."

My heart dropped about a thousand feet. This woman was my _mother_? And I had a sister named Ashalynn? Who became the Breeding Queen and I'd –

But another thought ripped through me like a blade: my mother didn't want me, didn't feel I was strong enough.

I'd been cast out.

JOE

I didn't have time to process what the hell was going on with Saoirse. Something – or someone – had just destroyed my front door and was most likely inside my apartment.

Pixie went nuts, barking and growling at the intruders.

"It's okay, girl, it's okay," I said from behind the couch where Saoirse and I were currently hiding. Pixie didn't come to me and reveal our location, but she stopped barking, at least.

I glanced at Saoirse. "Tell me everything you can about these men."

Saoirse went pale.

The three men stepped into the living room, fists clenched, eyes wild.

"They're going to take me away," Saoirse said quietly, her eyes flicking to the men and back to me again. "That cannot happen."

I glanced at the men again and noted the weapons in their hands, their skintight leather clothing, and how they scanned the room, assessing.

Trained fighters. This would be fun.

I stood, palming a dagger. "I'd like to know why you just busted my door and why you've come in uninvited."

"We're here for the woman," the man on the far left said. "She's here, we know it. We need to bring her home."

I arched a brow. "The woman? I take women home all the time. You'll have to be more specific."

The man in the middle – a blond with beady eyes – stepped closer to the couch, and my heart lurched. He was not getting one millimeter nearer Saoirse.

Even if she refused to tell me anything.

I stepped into his personal space, holding the dagger up, ready to do damage. "I'm a trained warrior so you really don't want to tangle with me."

"We just want the woman," Number Three said. "We don't want any trouble."

I glanced at the couch again, where Pixie was guarding Saoirse. I told her silently to protect Saoirse at any cost.

"There is no woman here," I said. "Now I'm going to ask you nicely to leave. And pay for the damage to my door."

"We can sense her here." Blondie stepped closer to me, invading my space like _whoa_. And that made me all sorts of twitchy.

The dagger slashed at Blondie, glinting in the moonlight as I spun around, catching his hip.

He dropped like a stone plunged into frigid water.

"Who's next?"

"Just let us see her, man," Number Three said, his voice hoarse. "We don't want to fight."

Blondie sprang up like a jack-in-a-box. "We will fight," he said, rushing me with a growl.

I sidestepped and whipped my blade at his chest, nicking his leather. "You're gonna bleed all over my carpet. More for you to pay for, I guess."

Then to my utter shock, I saw Saoirse leap up and out of her hiding place.

Shit.

ASHA

There was no damn way I was going to let these men do any more damage. I wasn't the type to sit back and watch someone do all the fighting.

So I stood and revealed myself to the three men. Pixie barked and growled at me. I figured she wasn't happy with me, but whatever. We could make amends later.

"Chill out," I told her. "I'm okay. No injuries, no nothing. I'm fine." She continued to growl, and I swear her eyes flashed with fear, but I couldn't be sure. Damn dog.

"Saoirse," Joe said. "What the hell are you doing?" He dodged a well-aimed fist and met my gaze for a second before slashing at one of the men.

"I'm taking care of business." I made my way into the fray, putting myself between the Three Amigos and Joe. "Stop this insanity, boys. I'm not going anywhere with you."

The blond in the middle sputtered, "You – you have to. We were told to bring you back at any cost."

"There are a lot of people wanting your head," one of the other men said, brandishing a dagger. I was not amused.

"What the hell are they talking about?" Joe asked sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. What? He wanted details? Well, screw that.

"None of your concern," I told him. I turned to the Three Amigos. "Now why don't you three leave? Tell whoever is running things that I won't be returning. Now go!"

The largest man of the three scoffed. "We're taking you home regardless." He reached for me, but Joe got in between us, his dagger perilously close to the man's throat.

"Don't even think about it," he said, his voice all sharp edges. "You'll have to go through me first."

One of the other men lunged at me, and Joe kicked him, sending him sailing across the floor. Then Pixie got in on the action, snapping at him and slashing with her claws.

Largest struggled to get out of Joe's grasp. He threw a right hook at Joe, who ducked and slashed upward with his dagger, tearing the leather and cutting Largest's chest. Blood dripped from the wound.

Number Three got into the action, slashing at Joe's face. Joe just chuckled, knocked the blade out of Number Three's hand, and punched him. _Crack._ A cry of pain.

"Saoirse, will you please get out of this room so I can get rid of these assholes?" Joe asked, his eyes smoldering with lethal fury. He was scary when he looked like that.

Largest slowly got to his feet and headed toward us again. Pixie jumped on him, teeth flashing.

"I can't let you do all the work," I said through clenched teeth. He was really pissing me off. "I can handle myself."

"I believe it. But three men could overpower you – could overpower anyone. Let me help you."

No damn way. "I will fight my own battles." I kicked Largest who was too close for comfort. He fell on his ass.

I drew my dagger, looking around me. "Who wants to dance?"

Blondie tackled me, and we went down. I clenched my teeth against his horrid breath and the smell of sweat. "Gotcha now, Your – " he started.

I plunged the dagger into his heart. "Screw. You." I kicked him off of me as he burst into flame.

Joe was holding his own against the third guy. He slashed his neck, one straight line from ear to ear. Blood spurted out like a fountain and stained the carpet. Shit.

I sensed movement from behind me. Largest let out a scream that made me wonder if he'd been castrated as a child. No man could make that kind of sound.

Joe retrieved his dagger from Largest's back. It came away slick with blood.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm not sure we'd be standing here surrounded by corpses if you haven't gotten that asshole." I looked around the room again, wincing at the splatters and stains of blood. "This place looks like a slaughterhouse."

Joe arched a brow and went to Largest, plunging his dagger into his heart. Largest went up like a roman candle.

Calm and Zen, Joe did the same thing with Blondie and the third man. Soon, the crackle of fire and the smell of burning flesh filled the room.

"Um, the room is on... _fire,"_ I said.

Joe nodded. "I know. These fires extinguish themselves once the heart is obliterated. Although the stains and shit will remain."

Just then, the smoke alarm let out a loud whine. Yay.

I glanced at the gaping doorway. "Shouldn't we do something?"

Chuckling, Joe waved off my concern. "Nah. They're used to it. I'm a chef, remember?" Then he sobered. "Saoirse, you need to tell me what's going on. Why I just battled three men for you." He dropped the dagger onto the table and sat down on the floor, looking so vulnerable. His hands were covered in blood. His hair was an utter mess of epic proportions, and I kind of liked it that way, totally wild.

I wanted to wash the blood off his skin, wash the ugliness of death from him and his home. He'd done this for _me_.

I knelt beside him and fought the urge to touch him.

I didn't know what to say. "I'm on the run, okay? I...did something wrong and I ran away. I'm not proud of it."

Joe's eyes widened. "What did you do?"

I sighed. He'd think I was a horrible person if he knew the truth. "Something stupid and selfish. Not one of my best moments."

"I'm sorry," Joe said, reaching out to me, his fingers brushing mine.

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who screwed up."

"I can get pushy sometimes." His blue eyes met mine. "I can tell you'd rather not talk about this so I'll let it go. But you _can_ trust me, Saoirse. Always."

It hit me like a sucker punch. He'd managed to keep me safe this entire time...he hadn't revealed to his people that I was here...and he'd been nothing but kind and gentle toward me when really, he could have killed me...or worse.

I squeezed his hand, ignoring the blood. "Thank you."

"As long as you're okay." Joe's eyes searched mine. It gave me a little chill. "I felt so helpless when you revealed yourself. I couldn't let them take you away from me."

"Well, that's sweet," I said softly. I could tell he was sincere, and that was enough. My heart was a fluttering thing trapped in my chest. Did I dare hope that this was real, that he could be...mine?

I couldn't let myself think like that.

Joe huffed out a breath, his eyes flicking to the gaping hole where the door used to be. "Any clue how to fix that?"

I went over to it, taking care not to step on Pixie, who was watching us, transfixed, from the floor.

With the door gone, even though it opened to the hallway, I felt very vulnerable.

"Well, I can make an illusion until you can get it replaced," I said, tapping my chin. "It won't hold forever, but it'll at least give you some semblance of privacy."

Joe's eyes widened. "That would be...cool. I think." He scratched his neck, studying me from beneath his eyelashes, as if he didn't want me to know he was doing it.

I took that as a yes and got started.

I pulled minute traces of _mana_ from all around me: in plants, in the air, even a little bit from Pixie. As I coaxed it into a visible vapor, it shimmered like diamonds caught in the air, dazzling bright, beautiful.

"This is the very substance of life. We Fey can reshape it into anything we want it to be." I began weaving the different parts of _mana_ together to form a door. I built it up, shading in the browns and the blacks and the polish. It was starting to look nice – nicer than the original door had been.

"That's so cool," Joe murmured. "I've heard of this, but never saw it in action."

Silence settled around us.

Joe broke it first. "I wish you'd let me in more."

I paused mid-weave, startled by his words. This trust thing was so fragile. I wasn't sure what I wanted to do. "I'm a very private person, Joe. It's not in my nature to talk about private matters." I went back to weaving, adding some etching near the top.

"Really?" Joe asked. "Because we're friends. At least, I think we are."

How to answer that? Sure, he could be my friend. But sharing wasn't on the menu tonight. Or any other night, for that matter.

"We are," I said softly.

He cocked his head to the side, studying me. "You don't trust me, do you, Saoirse?"

I locked the weave down and faced him, trying not to let my emotions show. How to answer that? If I said I did, then he'd want to know everything. If I didn't, he'd probably be offended...or worse.

"Of course I do," I said.

But fear was a tangible thing in the somber silence, and I couldn't get past it. Couldn't lay myself bare. I would leave first thing in the morning.

So why did my heart clench tight at that thought? Why did it feel like a betrayal?

#

"Are you positive?" I asked Joe. He'd done the right thing, giving me use of his huge Queen-sized bed (the irony was not lost on me) while he used the couch. And possibly Pixie as a pillow.

I did _not_ want to think about what crazy, naughty things we could do in this room, or...yeah. Need to stop that right now.

"Of course," Joe said gallantly. "I can't let you sleep on the couch. It's not right."

"But it's your apartment," I protested. "I'm cool with sleeping on the couch – "

"Pixie will guard you, won't you, sweetie?" Joe said, scratching her behind the ears. "You'll take good care of her."

Hells.

"I don't need a dog to protect me." My voice was sharp-edged icicles. "There's just no way I'll allow that. We didn't have – " Oh no. _Moron._

"Didn't have what? And who is we?" Joe asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Nothing. Just wasn't thinking." I made it a point to look at the dog, wondering how much of this she understood. Hopefully none of it. Last thing I needed was a gossip dog.

"I think I have something for you to wear," Joe said as he fluffed the pillows. "Not sure you'd wanna wear that dress to bed...or anything at all..." He cleared his throat. "I have a sweatshirt you can borrow."

I nodded, my attention riveted on the bed.

Which was _huge_. With satin sheets.

"Satin sheets?"

Joe chuckled. "Why not feel good in bed?"

Heat rushed to my face. I was sure I looked like a ripe tomato. "Um, sure. If that's your thing." I reached out and ran my fingers over the smooth fabric. It was red, no surprise there.

The room itself was clean and simple. He had a computer desk against one wall, and the monitor was, say it with me, _huge_.

A few pictures hung on the walls, abstract things with paint everywhere and no real point (you can tell how much I loved abstract art), but in the room, they fit beautifully, the colors playing off each other in interesting ways.

A dog bed sat beside his bed, naturally.

Shelves of books on everything imaginable dominated one corner. I ran my fingers over the spines, reading as I went. "Koontz, King, Patterson...what's this? _Your Genetic Code_ by huh? You're interested in genetics?"

"Yes, I am. Is that a problem?" He was behind me, a hairsbreadth away. His breath was warm on my neck. He put one tentative hand on my waist.

"Seems like a deep subject," I said. I turned around, catching his gaze again. "For someone like you."

He widened his eyes in mock horror. "What? A chef and Hunter can't be interested in science and stuff?"

I tried to suppress a smirk. "Oh no, you can't be. It's too cerebral."

"Too cerebral?" Joe asked with a grin. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Without thinking, I put my hand on his chest. "You aren't cerebral enough. How does cooking and genetic code mix, anyway?"

He very carefully placed his hand on top of mine, and my blood heated. The touch was light, barely there, but it felt like it was everywhere, stroking and stimulating every nerve ending.

"It's not cooking. It's _preparing food_. Big difference."

"Tell me about it," I said. Shockingly, I didn't want him to let go of my hand, or stop this conversation. It was getting interesting.

"Really? No joke?"

I nodded. "Really. How is it different from _cooking_?"

Joe grinned, his entire body becoming more animated as he spoke. "Well, you see, preparing food is a multisensory experience, as is consuming said food. We don't just go for taste. We go for eye appeal and presentation as well."

His hand stayed where it was, and I barely breathed.

"That's why chefs use garnish and bright, bold colors." He tapped his temple with his free hand. "Very cerebral."

I had to give him that one. "True. I retract my statement."

His fingers stroked my fingers, and liquid heat pooled in my core.

But...damn. He was amazing at that touching thing.

"Preparing food is a very sensual experience, you know. Especially if you do it with someone you...like." He glanced down at our hands. "Think you might wanna try sometime?"

My heart flip-flopped. This implied that we had a future beyond tomorrow, and I wasn't at all comfortable with that.

Oh, who the hell was I kidding?

I _did_ want that future. I _did_ want to explore this. But I couldn't. Wouldn't.

"Absolutely not," I said. "We cannot be together. Not now, not ever."

JOE

Damn it all, she was rejecting me again. I shouldn't have mentioned the future. Someone as skittish as Saoirse wouldn't go for that.

I needed to back the hell off.

"Can you explain why?" I asked, tamping down my frustration. If I could hold it together long enough to get some answers...

She wouldn't look at me. "It's complicated."

"You've mentioned that. And I've mentioned that I care for you and would never hurt you, so whatever this is, we can get past it."

The look on her face was a big honking stop sign, and that made me all sorts of crazy. I suspected that I'd imprinted on her, and if she didn't accept the bond, I was in for pure agony.

Getting past her being Fey was going to be tricky. And the other Hunters would stake me in a second if they knew.

But they didn't know, did they?

Saoirse folded her hands together, biting her lip. Damn, she looked so sexy like that. I tried not to think of that...or think of her in my clothing... in my bed...

I fisted my hands and clenched my jaw.

"I don't know," Saoirse said.

"Aren't you enjoying yourself? It can't be _that_ bad." I reached out and took her hand in mine, and squeezed it tight when she tried to pull away. "Just let yourself feel, okay? Don't analyze it. Don't fight it. Just relax."

She let out a breath, her shoulders slumping. "I like you a lot. But it's not that simple." Pixie suddenly showed up, bumping Saoirse's legs with her nose. Saoirse petted her gently on the head.

I needed to make her understand.

"It's as easy or as complicated as we make it." I petted Pixie, rubbed behind her ears. She was one hell of a companion and familiar, but damn. Nothing replaced a woman. Especially your mate.

"Well, how do you figure this will work? Your people would probably kill me on sight – "

"They don't have to know." I wasn't sure how long that would last, but I'd do my damnedest to keep her safe from my fellow Hunters. "No one does. Just you and me. You can stay here for as long as you want." I noticed that I hadn't gotten her a sweatshirt yet. I went to the closet and fished around, grateful for something to do besides obsess about what Saoirse was feeling. Or craft rebuttals to her every argument.

"I'm not staying." Saoirse's face was as hard and as unfeeling as stone.

My heart lurched. "Come _on_. You need somewhere to be – "

"It's not personal – "

"The hell it isn't," I snapped, plucking the sweatshirt I wanted from the hanger. I turned to face Saoirse. Panic chased across her face and it flared in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

I held the sweatshirt out to her. "My favorite. Try it on."

She nodded, taking it from me. "Where's your bathroom?"

"Down the hall and to the left."

When she was gone, I sat on the bed and tried not to think of us _in_ it doing deliciously fun things to each other. I tried to relax. I was straining against my pants, and thoughts of her naked made the problem much worse.

I thought of Saoirse leaving me. How I would fight with everything I had to keep her here.

I thought of battle – slicing throats and staking blue-tinged chests. Killing. Exacting vengeance. Giving the Fey one hell of a send-off. Right unto death.

That helped...some.

Saoirse came into the room, looking so sexy I could barely stand it. "How do I look?"

I let my gaze drift down, pausing at her full breasts, and going lower...shit. I needed to stop thinking about her...naked underneath my sweatshirt... I licked my dry lips. "Uh – you look amazing. I think I just fried quite a few brain cells."

She chuckled. "I'm not _that_ sexy." She glided further into the room. She gasped and recoiled. "Is that what I think it is?"

I jumped up to see what freaked her out so much. Of course. I was a moron. I'd left my iron stake sitting on my computer desk. Within reach, as always. But clearly Saoirse wasn't thinking of that.

It was something that could kill her. Even if it was mine.

"I'm sorry." I snatched the stake up and threw it into a drawer. "I didn't mean for you to see it."

Saoirse's eyes glistened with tears. "This is never going to work."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Erin Zarro is an indie novelist and poet living in Michigan. She's married to her Prince Charming, and she has a feline child named Hailey who she's convinced is part vampire. She loves all things scary and spooky, and is on a mission to scare herself, as nothing lately has scared her. She writes in the genres of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror. Her first published novel, Fey Touched, is a blend of sci-fi and fantasy. She is currently working on the sequel to Reaper Girl and a nonfiction book. And she is trying to stay out of trouble. Mostly.

### Connect with me online:

Twitter: @ekendall

Smashwords: <http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/erinkendall>

My blog: http://erinkendall.wordpress.com

My website: http://www.erinzarro.com

My newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bjsKaL

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, I'd like to thank my family for always believing in me and supporting me on this crazy journey I'm on.

I'd also like to thank the students in Holly Lisle's flash fiction class, too many to name, for helping me make these stories the very best they could be.

And also my friends at The Spork Room, who are a continuous source of inspiration and encouragement.

Christine Pope, who gifted me with a new, beautiful cover to replace the original one. Thank you!

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Thank you for taking the time to read this collection of stories. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a short review on Smashwords or Goodreads telling others your thoughts. We writers (especially indies like me!) need to get the word out about our books and a review is a great way to do it. I would be forever in your debt.

For more information about me, check out my website at http://www.erinzarro.com.

