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  “Sure, that.”

  A dimple appeared, but the smile was tired. “Humble origins, perhaps, as we are all shaped by our formative years. Before my change, I was a farmer in what is today northern France. I worked the land alongside my parents and siblings. It was a brutal, backbreaking way of life, but it was also full of kinship and laughter.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  He looked away and was silent long enough I opened my mouth to apologize. He said quickly, “No, it’s all right. I was remembering back.” A wry smile flashed my way. “I’m rather old, if you’ll recall.”

  I smiled. “You don’t look a day over two hundred.”

  He exhaled a silent laugh and slowly his expression turned pensive, then shadowed by sorrow. “One summer’s eve, a vampire broke into our home. He killed my parents and sisters. My brothers and I tried to fight him. I was the eldest, the strongest, and lasted longest. I managed to wound him while we were locked in combat. He tore my shoulder with his fangs, and some of his blood entered the wound. I weakened and he escaped, leaving me for dead. In truth, I was ready to die, to join my family in the afterlife. But it was not to be. I transitioned to vampire surrounded by the bodies of my family.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago,” he said, and his eyes lost their sorrow as they focused on me. “I no longer grieve them, but I’ve never forgotten where I come from. I still remember my father’s kind voice and my mother’s embrace. I remember making sacrifices and hard choices for the good of the family. I have a different family now, much larger, but I still try to align my choices with the good of the whole.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “Did you find vengeance for them?”

  “Yes. It took me a hundred years to meet that vampire again, but he died for his sins.”

  “And what about Gabriella?” I asked without thinking. “Do you not want vengeance against the Liberati?”

  “If you’re asking me if Gabriella deserves vengeance, then yes, she does. However, if you’re questioning why I’ve not hunted and slaughtered every last Liberati operative in the world for their transgression, the answer is more complicated. For one, Gabriella abhors violence.”

  I looked away, discomforted by his use of the present tense. And annoyed, because I didn’t agree with Gabriella’s pacifism, while Connor obviously kept her on a lofty pedestal. Or maybe it all boiled down to what Adam had said, that I was Gabriella’s opposite.

  If something gruesome happened to me—or Adam, or Declan—I’d want the Prime to unleash some apocalyptic justice. Lots and lots of violence. No pacifism, please.

  As for myself, I had no doubts that when face to face with the Liberati who’d abducted and were apparently torturing my dad, I’d bring down the fucking sky on them.

  “Bloodthirsty,” he murmured.

  “Damn straight,” I said without heat. “I’m starting to believe what Delilah said on the phone. There’s a war going on. There are different rules in war.”

  “Are there?” he murmured, a thread of humor in his voice. “No place for compassion on the battlefield?”

  I snorted. “Of course. Kill them fast. That’s compassionate, right?”

  He chuckled, tension releasing from his shoulders. “You, Fiona, are an enigma.”

  “Nope,” I countered. “I’m pretty straightforward. There are bad guys and good guys. Bad guys need to be dealt with.”

  “As I said, we are indelibly shaped by our formative years.”

  “My dad raised me right,” I growled.

  He lifted a graceful hand. “I agree. But did Frank not also teach you the importance of due process, and the adage innocent until proven guilty?”

  “Are you kidding me?” My voice climbed a few octaves. “Did you not just admit you wanted to mind-meld that Liberati, which would have instantly killed him?”

  His eyes darkened to emerald. “Not acting on base impulse separates mankind from animals.”

  I made a noise of complaint. “Are we having this argument? For real? God, Connor, if the Liberati cut off your head, I’d fry them. The end.”

  The emerald bled closer to black, then flashed to their normal green. “You would have done well in Rome, mo spréach.”

  “I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.”

  His chest shook soundlessly with laughter. “Ah, you do entertain me.” The laughter died, but warmth remained in his eyes. Warmth and sympathy. “You are not as hard as you think you are. And you are still very, very young. The world is not black and white, but many shades between. The choices we make, especially those born of impulse, can haunt us forever.”

  I flushed at the implied insult. “I’m not stupid or naïve, but neither am I going to cripple myself with self-doubt. I have a moral compass that works just fine. And my moral compass says the people who are hurting my dad need to be punished.”

  “I don’t disagree.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” I snapped.

  He closed his eyes. “Perhaps I don’t want to see what is soft in you turn hard.”

  I shook my head as I stood. “You may be able to see into my mind, but you don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  “You didn’t kill Michael and your friends.”

  I froze as his words blew open the doors on my personal candy shop of destructive feelings. Rage, disgust, self-loathing . . . Grief, resentment, regret.

  The black kernel of belief that I was, in fact, responsible for those deaths, was my deepest fear and number one shrink-worthy issue.

  “You don’t pull punches, do you?”

  I left before he could answer.

  Twenty-One

  I woke up the next morning panting, covered in sweat, and with a pounding headache. I also had total recall of a dream. No, not a dream—a vision. I didn’t know how I knew the difference, but I did.

  Whether it had been a glimpse of the present or future, I couldn’t say, but it had me scrambling out of bed, yanking on a robe, and running for the door adjoining my bedroom to the Prime’s suite. The key turned easily. The door swung inward at my shove. I was across the threshold and halfway to the king-sized bed before my brain came online.

  Skidding to a stop, I gawked at six and a half feet of naked, golden skinned Prime, currently lying on his stomach amidst silvery sheets. Muscles I hadn’t known existed in the human body shifted in his back as he lifted onto his elbows and turned his head.

  Emerald eyes glowed in the dimness. “I’m going to assume you used the door impulsively and not for its intended use.” His voice was low, gravelly with sleep, and did unmentionable things to my body.

  “I had a dream,” I blurted, averting my eyes entirely when they kept creeping downward. “I saw Rosie. She was talking to that bald Liberati. They were in a warehouse. There was . . .” I swallowed, “an electric chair. Ethan was there, too. He was in a cell, a freestanding cage with electric bars. He was yelling my name. There were other cages. Cages. With people in them. Supernaturals. I think I saw a bear.”

  Sheets rustled as he rolled off the bed, his back to me as he yanked on pants. I didn’t realize I was shaking like a leaf until his hands settled on my shoulders.

  “It’s okay,” he murmured, tugging me forward until my cheek rested against his chest.

  Electricity surged, but it was muted, a low hum as he absorbed my charge. One hand stroked my back, up and down, while the other cradled my head.

  I clung to him shamelessly, reveling in the touch of another after the horror of the dream. “God, it was awful,” I whispered. “Was it the future or the present?”

  “As of last night, Ethan was still in Seattle, so I doubt it was the present. Have you tried locating Rosie since the gala?”

  I nodded, inadvertently nuzzling my face against his skin. “She’s still driving,” I said, a little breathlessly. “Last time I checked she was in California. Heading east to Nevada, I think. I saw a few
road signs but not much else.”

  Fingers played with my hair, twirling the strands down my spine. His other hand traveled to my neck and began gently kneading stiff muscles. I sighed, shifting against him, and made an incoherent noise of pleasure.

  He whispered my name.

  My bubble of contentment burst. Jerking away, I pulled my loosened robe closed and knotted the belt tightly.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  He dragged hands through his hair, pausing with his fingers laced atop his head. “This is ridiculous,” he told the ceiling.

  I blinked, looking up from his sculpted chest. “Huh?”

  “It’s your scent.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  He lowered his arms, once more composed. “Your scent. And the memory of how your blood tastes. Your charge, which makes my heart beat faster and makes me feel. . .” He huffed in frustration. “Alive. Almost human again. Those are the reasons I can’t stop touching you even though you’ve asked me repeatedly to stop. I even attempted to frighten you into keeping your distance, but we both know how well that worked.”

  My emotions bounced between satisfaction, hurt, and hilarity. “Are you telling me that I’m glamouring you?”

  He grunted. “An apt descriptor, actually.”

  I stared at him. He stared at me. Tension thickened the space between us. My body screamed with need, urging me to take, feel, live.

  He was so goddamn beautiful, a feast for my eyes and senses, displayed in low-slung lounge pants like a carnal buffet. It would be so easy to push him down to the rumpled bed and, for a while, forget everything. I wanted him, more than I’d wanted anyone. Ever.

  But, as he’d said, impulse control separated us from the animals. He wanted my blood, and the effects of my power.

  He didn’t want me.

  Slowly, excruciatingly, I rebuilt the defensive wall around my emotions. The bricks were his countless inconsistencies, the mortar his incapability of giving me what I needed.

  “You’re right,” he murmured. “I can’t give you that.”

  His heart.

  I looked at him from within my self-imposed fortress and shrugged. “You can’t be the only man on the planet who can touch me. There’s got to be at least one or two others.”

  He smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “More than one or two. Ethan was unaffected, as I’m sure you recall.”

  My brows went up. “That’s right, he picked me up after my bracelets came off. Why do you suppose he can touch me but Adam can’t?”

  Connor’s eyes flared with a muted glow, then dimmed. He turned on his heel. “Forgive me, Fiona, I have a phone call.”

  “Wait! What are we going to do about my vision?”

  He paused while walking toward what I assumed was a closet. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “To begin, I’m going to answer Prime Kilpatrick’s phone call and get an update on the investigation in Oklahoma.”

  My anxiety lowered a notch. “Will you ask if they had cages there? And if anyone picked up the scent of a werebear?”

  “Yes, though the Liberati usually scent-wipe their labs when they leave.” A dark brow rose, mouth tilting wryly. “Anything else? Or do you trust me to uncover pertinent details?”

  I bristled. “Maybe I’d trust you more if you hadn’t been consistently withholding information from me.”

  He nodded shortly, lips compressing. “You’re right. I’ve withheld information, under the misguided impression I was protecting you.” His eyes narrowed, burning and bright. “But you don’t need protection, do you, mo spréach?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  I’m not Gabriella, I thought forcefully.

  He flinched, then murmured, “No, you most certainly are not.”

  A second later, I was alone in the room.

  Twenty-Two

  I found my way to the clearing in the forest, following intuition and a shadow of blackened trees. When I reached the border of the space, I stopped, unable to bring myself to take the final step onto charred ground. Minus a crater and body parts, the scene before me was eerily familiar.

  Pine trees, stripped of their needles and skeletal, creaked in a gusting wind. Rain spattered sporadically, crackling on impact with my exposed face and hands. Reminding me of what I was. What I could do, what I would do.

  I gazed at the evidence of my lapse in control—or, as Connor had called it, my final Ascension—and had the chilling thought of it having happened somewhere else. Somewhere with innocent bystanders. Remembering the blistered skin on Connor’s chest, I shuddered.

  Booted feet crunched the undergrowth, growing ever nearer. When they stopped, I glanced aside at my uncle, at his familiar, beloved face, and decided I didn’t have the energy to be angry at him anymore.

  He’d done what he thought was right. And it had been right—I was too dangerous to go unmonitored. I was a ticking time bomb, a weapon of mass destruction.

  Come to think of it, I probably should be locked away in an underground facility, complete with rubber walls and plastic furniture.

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  “Hey.”

  He leaned against a nearby tree, gazing at me from beneath the hood of his raincoat. “How are you holding up?”

  I shrugged. “You know, suffering delusions of grandeur coupled with an inferiority complex. The usual.”

  Instead of cracking a smile, Mal said, “Privacy,” and sapphire light flared around him, expanding until it encompassed us both. He took a step closer to me, expression as determined as I’d ever seen it. “I overheard the Prime telling Adam about your dream. The vision of the future.”

  A chill touched my neck. “Yes?”

  “You saw a bear.”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He glanced toward the distant compound, then, as though he wasn’t sure his privacy spell would hold, lowered his voice even further, “I want you to track Rosie Young for me, so I can find that warehouse and get your dad.”

  The chill spread across my shoulders and down my spine. “Are you going AWOL, Mal?”

  He nodded, eyes a little wide. “We’re going AWOL. As I see it, with Delilah blocking his location, Rosie’s our only chance of finding Frank. I can’t wait anymore, and I don’t think you can either. What do you say?”

  Hope warred with fear inside me. “Just the two of us?”

  “No,” said a soft voice. “The four of us.”

  I jerked around, my eyes widening at the sight of Ethan Accosi standing between two charred trees. And as if his presence wasn’t shocking enough, beside him was a familiar woman, lean and tanned, with dark blond hair and brown eyes.

  “Katrina? What the hell?”

  The werelion grinned. “Hey, Fiona. Missed you at work this week.”

  Ethan’s eyes narrowed on something in the distance. “We have to go. The Alpha is looking for Fiona.”

  “Kiddo?” asked Mal tensely.

  My heart thumped wildly in my chest as I glanced between my uncle, Ethan, and Katrina. I thought of Connor, of the confusing dynamic between us, and knew that before long, my heart was going to fly to him regardless of my head.

  Whether I had Stockholm syndrome or was on the precipice of falling in love, it was an untenable situation. A distraction from the real reason I was here—my dad. Who was slowly dying in a Liberati cage while I toyed with the idea of having sex with the Western Prime.

  It wasn’t a difficult decision.

  I jerked my head in a nod. “I’m in.”

  Ethan snapped at Katrina, “Get them to the car. Don’t forget to trigger the spell before starting it. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Mal’s privacy spell vanished. Katrina took off at a run and we followed, ducking branches and dodging brush. Before long, the uncut forest grew dense and dark, and all sense of direction was lost. The werelion’s blond hair became our only compass, our labored breaths and clumsy footsteps the only sounds.

  On a good day, the terrain would hav
e been difficult to run on two legs. With a bum ankle, maintaining speed was impossible. I began to slow, wincing at every step, until finally, a sharp pain had me crying out and stumbling into a tree.

  “I have to stop,” I gasped, lifting weight off my foot. “Go without me. I’ll find a way to get you information on Rosie.”

  Katrina circled back, panting lightly. “It’s another hundred feet to the road. You can make it.”

  “We’re not leaving you,” growled Mal. “Come on, get up.”

  An eerie howl pierced the forest.

  My heart lurched, then pounded anew as a figure burst forth from between two trees. Ethan paused momentarily, his dark eyes wild, before rushing to my side. Despite my cry of alarm, he hauled me up and swung me onto his back.

  Miraculously, nothing happened. Unlike Connor, who absorbed my charge, Ethan dispelled it, like a human version of Adam’s bracelets.

  “Let’s go,” he snapped, and we lurched into motion just as the single howl turned into the cries of a pack.

  I clung to Ethan like a monkey, my face against the back of his neck, and lost track of everything except hanging on for dear life.

  “How far?” yelled Mal.

  “Here!” cried Katrina, and we burst through the tree line onto a gravel road. A dark sedan waited, as incongruous as the road itself, which cut through thick woods and was barely wide enough for one vehicle.

  As Katrina jumped into the front seat and Mal the passenger side, Ethan tumbled us into the back seat, yelling, “The spell! Go! Go!”

  Katrina slammed her hand onto a rune burned into the dashboard. Violet light shimmered and the engine roared. The wheels spun, shooting gravel behind us, then found traction. She let out a whoop of victory as we sped forward.

  I straightened in my seat, turning to stare behind us just as a huge wolf breached the tree line. Air shimmered around him like heat on asphalt. He blurred, then straightened on two legs, naked as the day he was born.

  Declan, his expression tortured, yelled my name.

  Swallowing hard, I turned around and buckled my seat belt. I ignored a pang of guilt.