On the Hunt

Chapter One

St. Louis, Missouri, December 12

The woman had something Neal Etan wanted and he wasn't leaving until he got it.

He hurried up the cement steps leading to her front door, his booted feet leaving behind tread marks in the dusting of snow that had just begun to accumulate. With any luck at all, he'd convince Viviana Rowan to give him the gadget Gilda said might cure his friend's paralysis, and be back on the road home to Dabyr before dark.

Synestryn demons got more hours of playtime during the long winter nights, and Neal needed to be done with his errand and back out there fighting, ready to stop them before some unsuspecting human became a meal. Not to mention the fact that he really needed the physical outlet to help control his pain—an outlet only a good dose of hack-'n'-slash fighting or hot-'n'-sweaty sex provided.

He wasn't going to get either in the house of some stuffy old antiques collector, so he needed to get in, get the gadget, and get out. Fast.

The pain was grueling today, grinding against his bones until even his hair ached. The two hours of meditation he'd done earlier had barely eased the pressure of the power growing inside him.

He told himself it was because he'd just lost another leaf from his lifemark—the living image of a tree that covered his chest—but he knew it was more than that.

His time was running out. The leaves were falling faster now, thanks to a jolt of power a stun-gun hit had given him last summer. He'd absorbed a year's worth of energy in one instant, and he still had the nightmares and cold sweats to prove it.

With only twelve leaves left, he knew the remainder of his life could now be measured in months.

Maybe even weeks. And that was assuming that one of the Synestryn demons he fought didn't get a lucky shot in.

Not that he was complaining. He'd been around nearly four hundred years now. It was a good run. He'd slain a lot of evil in his lifetime. He'd served his purpose and done his job. And when it came time to take his own life so he wouldn't become like the evil he was sworn to fight, he'd do that, too. No complaints, no regrets. He was a warrior destined to die for his cause, and no amount of wishing for things he couldn't have was going to change that.

Just because other men like him had found the women who could save them didn't mean Neal had gone all soft in the head, thinking he would, too. He knew better than to let false hope sway him to hang on longer than was safe. This time next year, he'd be dead. No sense in getting all sappy about it.

Neal's knuckles rapped on the frigid door, and a moment later, he could hear aging floorboards creak on the other side of the wood. It slid open two scant inches, revealing one long-lashed, hazel eye.

"Yes?" said the woman, her voice low and soft.

"I'm Neal Etan. I have an appointment with Ms. Rowan."

"Is it four thirty already?" She sounded bewildered.

"It is."

She swung the door open and stepped back for him to enter. "I'm sorry. I was studying a new artifact and must have lost track of time. Please come in."

Neal stared at her in a long moment of surprise.

She was taller than he expected—only a couple of inches shy of six feet—and much, much younger. He'd had an image of some dried-up, bent old woman, someone who fit in with all the younger. He'd had an image of some dried-up, bent old woman, someone who fit in with all the ancient items she was reputed to have collected—one of which Neal wasn't leaving without.

Instead, he guessed her to be in her late twenties, though her prim business suit and spinsterish bun gave her a more mature air. She was pretty in an untouchable kind of way—the kind of woman a rough man like Neal avoided when possible. He'd either shock her or hurt her or both if he was around long enough.

He hoped he could conclude their business and be on his way before that became an issue.

Neal stepped over the threshold as she extended her hand in greeting. "I'm Viviana Rowan."

He didn't want to touch her. Her long, elegant fingers seemed too fragile for his sword-calloused hand. But even more than that, he didn't want to offend her—not when they hadn't even begun to negotiate.

With an inward sigh of resignation, Neal took her offered hand, thinking of blown-glass sculptures and hollow eggs so he'd keep his grip light.

He'd intended to make the contact as brief as possible, but the second his skin touched hers, his world fell silent. Decades of pain evaporated like snowflakes over a fire. A buoyant, weightless bubble swelled inside him, driving away the pressure of the massive power he stored but could not use. The hair along his limbs lifted from his body, and a fine shiver eased down his spine, warming him as it passed. Even his shock at the reaction couldn't seem to penetrate the overwhelming sense of peace that settled over him. He was content to stay here in this quiet, warm peacefulness for the rest of his life.

And then he felt her fingers slide from his grip and reality came crashing down on him once again. Pain thrashed inside him, as if angry that he'd had even that brief respite. It lunged against his bones, pummeling his organs as it punished him.

Neal gritted his teeth against the scream that was crawling up his throat and locked his knees so he wouldn't collapse in a heap at the woman's feet. A cold sweat beaded up along his hairline, and his stomach gave a hard, sickening twist.

". . . you okay?" Her soft voice lapped against his nerves, quieting their rioting dance. "I'll call for an ambulance."

"No," croaked Neal. "I'm fine." He was anything but fine, but the last thing he needed was to be dragged away from here and have human doctors poking at him. Not only would they be freaked-out by his lifemark, but he'd have a hell of a hard time explaining why there was an invisible sword strapped around his hips. "Can I have some water?" he asked, just to get her to leave him alone for a minute. He needed to collect his wits, and he really didn't want this woman to see him weak like this.

She shut the front door behind him and hurried off, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

Neal sagged against the walland blinked to clear the black spots from his vision. He was shaking like one of those scared little purse dogs, and about as tough as one right now, too.

Sunset was in just over an hour, and he had that long to get his shit together and fix it before the nasties came out to play.

One thing was certain: There was not a force on earth that was going to pull him away from Ms. Viviana Rowan's side until he figured out what she'd done to him.

And how he could make her do it again.

Viviana filled a glass with water and guzzled it down before she remembered she was supposed to get him the water. Her heart was racing, and her hand was trembling so hard it kept slipping from the faucet handle.

When he touched her, something happened. And she wasn't entirely sure she liked it. She'd felt like someone had sent an electric current through her skin, making it tingle and buzz from the inside out. A swath of heat swept over her, emanating from his wide, rough palm. His touch had been gentle, but that had somehow allowed her to feel each ridge of his calluses, every minute detail down to the whorls in his fingerprints.

That simply wasn't right. It had to have been some kind of hallucination. Maybe his skin had been drugged with a contact poison.

Even as the thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. Deep down she knew what this was.

She'd felt it before, albeit never so intensely. That buzzing, resonant humming that filled her wasn't new to her. She'd felt it every time she touched one of the precious artifacts she collected.

The only problem was, Neal Etan was not some centuries-old artifact. He was a living, breathing, incredibly warm man. One who was waiting in her foyer.

What was she going to do with him? He couldn't stay. He was here to buy one of her artifacts, and although she hadn't before suspected he'd want one from her special collection, she now realized that had to be the case.

She wouldn't let him have one of those. They were hers—the only things that made her feel connected to this world. Without them, she would be doomed to live with that meaningless, disconnected feeling she'd suffered through most of her life. She couldn't let that happen.

Not that she could keep him from taking something he wanted. He was far too big and powerful to stop. She was going to have to outsmart him and get him to leave as soon as possible. She could not let her entire life's work be torn apart. Especially not so soon after losing Mother.

This was going to be her first Christmas alone with only her collection to keep her company.

Viviana covered her mouth with the back of her hand to stifle a whimper, and swore she could smellhis masculine scent lingering on her skin. It soothed her nerves, which only frightened her more. She'd never had a reaction like this to a man before, and she hoped it was only temporary.

She scrubbed her hands in the sink to rid them of his scent, and then hurried out with his glass of water. The sooner she got him to leave, the better.

She rounded the corner and nearly ran right into his broad chest. He grabbed her arms to steady her, and she was thankful the layers of fabric between them muted the effect of his touch.

Only a trickle of that tingling energy reached her skin, but it was enough to heighten the trembling of her hands, causing water to slosh over the side of the glass onto his boot.

"I'm sorry," she said, as she tried to step back out of his grasp.

He let her go, but his dark blue eyes slid over her face, lingering at her mouth.

He was handsome in a deeply masculine way. His features were big and bold and starkly angular. The wide ridge of his jaw was sharp, shadowed with new beard growth. His neck was thick, as were his thighs and arms beneath the snug leather jacket. There was nothing soft or gentle about this man, making him completely unlike the men she chose to date. Though, why she'd make such a comparison was anyone's guess. He wasn't here to ask her out. He was here to take something precious from her.

She thrust the glass at him, hoping it would distract him and that steady gaze. Instead, his fingers grazed the back of her hand as he took the water.

Instantly, another jolt of power shot through her, ricocheting inside her heart until she was panting for air.

"Who are you?" he asked, his deep voice tinted with suspicion.

She tried to sound unaffected, but her words came out breathy and panicked. "I know I promised you a meeting, but I forgot about an incredibly important appointment. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel."

"Like hell."

"Excuse me?"

"You made me a promise, and where I come from, that means something." He started to set the glass down on a seventeenth-century writing desk, and Viviana lunged to stop him before the damp glass could make contact.

Her hands closed over his and that resonant energy flooded her system, weakening her knees and making her eyes flutter shut. A deep groan of satisfaction rose between them, and she couldn't tell if she'd made the noise, or he had. Not that she cared. Whatever he was doing to her—whatever poison or magic the man possessed—she was starting to like it.

That thought jolted her, forcing her to remove her hands from his. She'd sacrifice the writing desk to a water mark if it meant he'd leave before setting his eyes on any of her treasured artifacts.

As she broke contact, he sucked in a pained breath and doubled over. The glass slipped from his hand, shattering against the floor.

"Sorry," he grated out.

She didn't care about the glass. She only wished she could say the same for the man. But she did care. She hated seeing any living thing in pain, and that included big, strapping men who were here to ruin the calm of her peaceful existence.

"Sit down before you fall down," she ordered as she guided him to a chair in her living room.

She was careful not to touch his bare skin, choosing instead to use the sleeve of his jacket to tug him in the right direction. He landed on her settee with a thud, making the delicate wood creak in protest of his weight.

One of his thick arms was wrapped around his middle. His head hung down, propped against his hand as if it weighed too much to support. On that hand he wore a ring that pulsed and swirled in a mesmerizing combination of colors that reminded her of aged parchment and ancient wood.

Viviana stared, wondering where he'd found such an interesting item. It was definitely old. She could feel the vibration of years emanating from it, along with something else—something faint and elusive.

She reached out to touch the tip of her finger to it, but Mr. Etan saw the movement and leaned smoothly away, out of her reach. "How about we both keep our hands to ourselves for a while so we can talk about the gadget, okay? I'm not sure how much more of a beating I can take right now."

She wasn't sure which part of that confused her more—the part about a gadget or the part about him hurting. Fortunately, she had manners to fall back on in such an occasion and gave him a prim nod. "Certainly. I'm not usually so forward. But as I said, I have an appointment, so we'll need to reschedule."

He gave her a disbelieving look. "Listen, lady, I've driven for hours to get here. I made a promise to bring this gadget home and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Gadget?"

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he smoothed flat against his thigh before he handed it to her.

Viviana took the paper, being careful not to make any further contact with his skin. She sat down across from him, putting some much-needed distance between them.

On the page was a printed image from her Web site of one of the artifacts from her special collection. It was a carved wooden box, and inside, snuggled into perfectly shaped recesses, were two engraved metal disks. The markings on both the box and the disks were elaborate and painstaking in their detail, covered with trees, leaves, and vines. She'd found this item in the attic of a three-hundred-year-old home that she'd bought with the plans to restore it. And while she had no idea as to the artifact's purpose, it belonged in her collection, and she wasn't going to part with it.

"I'm sorry," she said, giving him back the paper. "It's not for sale."

"So you do have it?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

The demand in his tone made her spine straighten in indignation. "Even if it was here, which it isn't, I wouldn't show it to you. Not if you're going to be rude and demanding."

The man rose to his feet, looming over her. At five-ten, she wasn't used to it, so she stood, trying to put them on a more even footing. Even with her in heels, he was still a few inches taller. The hard set of his jaw and the way his nostrils flared made him even more imposing.

"Rude? I'm sorry if I insulted your delicate feelings, but I don't have time to be all nicey-nice right now. A friend of mine is dying and that gadget may be the only thing that can save him."

Viviana scoffed. "Nice try, but I'm not an idiot. Those disks don't hold medicine, and if they did, I'm sure it would be all dried up by now."

He frowned at her. "You have no idea what you've got or how important it is. I'll pay you whatever you want, but I need that device now. Tonight."

"Impossible. It's not here and it's not for sale."

"Fine. I'll rent it, then. I'll pay you whatever you ask to use it, just for a few days."

"Use it? They're paperweights. Beautiful, certainly, but nothing more." Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. There was something special about the artifacts she collected. She could feel it.

Perhaps Mr. Etan knew the answer to that mystery. The question was, did she dare spend enough time with him to find out?

"Just tell me where the gadget is. Please." That last bit sounded like it cost him more than a little effort. Clearly, he wasn't used to asking for things.

Poor baby. He was just going to have to suffer.

"No," she said. "It's time for you to go."

"I'm not leaving here without it."

"Yes, you are." She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and waved it in front of him. "If you prefer to do so with a police escort, I'm happy to provide one."

His mouth tightened and his eye twitched. He crossed his arms over his wide chest, making his jacket creak as his biceps bulged against the leather.

His size contrasted with the gentleness of his touch earlier. She was used to soft, intellectual men with smooth hands and wool suits, not brutes in leather. And although he'd been nothing but careful with her, Mr. Etan was definitely a brute. A man didn't get to be as big and muscular and . . . imposing as he was without also adopting that barbaric kind of demeanor.

He was a man misplaced in time. Centuries ago, he would have been a prize, but now, in modern civilized society, he had no place. There was no purpose for all those muscles other than vanity. And attracting women.

Viviana would just bet he was used to having women hang all over him, cooing and fawning and simpering like idiots. She could hardly stand the mental image.

He stared into her eyes for a long moment—long enough that Viviana began to heat under his gaze. She knew better than to be drawn to a man like him, but apparently her body did not.

Apparently, there was some vestigial part of her that had woken up and taken notice of him and his outdated muscles.

She told that part of her it could just go right back to sleep as soon as he left her home.

"We're not done, you and I," he said, making it sound like a promise. "Wherever you go, I'll be there. Call all the cops you like. It won't change a thing. I'm getting that gadget for my friend and that's final. As soon as you get sick of having me breathe down your neck, I'm sure you'll see things my way."

The idea of his breathing on any part of her was more than a bit intriguing, which only served to anger her further. "Good night, Mr. Etan."

"Call me Neal," he said as he turned to leave. "I have the feeling the two of us are going to be spending a lot of time together."

Chapter Two

Viviana stood there, flustered and flushed. Her whole body was shaking by the time she heard her front door swing shut.

She hurried to check and make sure he hadn't faked her out and gone roaming her home. She wouldn't have put it past him to do just that—stomping through her personal, private space as if he owned it.

Through the curtains, she saw the big shadow of his body move smoothly down her steps and out onto the street. She parted the lace panels and watched him go. He had far too much grace for a man his size. It was hard not to stare as he moved, his long limbs loose and strong as he strode away. He almost seemed to glide across the snow. Only his big footprints gave away the fact that he walked like anyone else, one foot in front of the other.

A passing truck obscured her vision, releasing her from whatever spell he'd had on her.

She turned, refusing to look again for fear she'd be sucked back into his gliding stride.

He was bluffing about staying nearby. She was sure of it. It was just a tactic meant to force her to comply with his wishes.

As if she would bend so easily. She might not be some huge, hulking man, but she was no wilting flower, either. She hadn't yet met the man who could make her back down. That gadget, as he'd called it, was hers and she was keeping it, regardless of any lies he might tell her about his dying friend.

Avid collectors would say anything to acquire an item they sought. He was just one more.

Viviana locked her door and fetched a towel, broom, and dustpan to clean up the broken glass.

Her hands were still shaking, and as she picked up a large shard of glass it sliced across her finger. A few drops of blood stained the towel as she finished cleaning up the mess.

Irritation tightened her shoulders. It wasn't like her to let a man—or anyone, for that matter—rattle her so deeply. She needed to find her sense of calm and put him out of her mind. She refused to dwell on Mr. Etan for one more moment. She had more important things to worry about, like why a living, breathing man felt the same to her as the artifacts from a long-dead ancient race.

Maybe it was that ring he wore. She'd never seen anything like it before. Maybe it was an artifact that called to her, not the man himself.

That made much more sense and settled her nerves. Her shoulders relaxed as she decided that must be the case. The answer would be somewhere in her books. All she had to do was find it.

Viviana went to her third-floor study, and had just laid out the first ancient book in her collection—the one with a barren tree embossed on the leather cover—when she heard a faint scratching sound.

She peeked out the window, expecting to see animals pawing through the trash cans in the alley below. Instead, when the noise came again, it was behind her, in the hallway. Inside the house.

She whirled around, her heart pounding in her throat.

She told herself it was just a rat. She'd call an exterminator and the problem would be solved.

Instincts that were rusty from disuse screamed otherwise. There was someone in the house. Or something.

Her imagination ran wild with the images of horrible beasts she'd seen in her texts. Claws and teeth and horns mingled together into a massive collage of childish nightmares.

Viviana picked up a hefty brass candlestick. The smooth metal slid around inside the white cotton gloves she'd donned to handle her books. She gripped it tighter and stepped to the right to peer into the hallway.

She'd turned the hallway light off in her determination to be more environmentally conscious.

Stupid, stupid move. Now she couldn't see a thing.

A feral hiss rose up from the darkness, positioned too high to have come from a rat on the floor.

She kicked the door open wider with the toe of her shoe, hoping to shed some light into the hall.

A faint glow reached halfway across the space. Beyond that light, she saw glowing eyes at about waist height. They were a bright, sickly green. That green glow flared brighter and the hissing noise got louder.

The scratching sound came again, closer, and this time she heard it for what it was: claws on her hardwood flooring.

The thing stepped forward, landing one foot in the rectangle of light. The paw was huge. Furry.

Easily as big as her hand, tipped with oily black claws.

Whatever it was, it was definitely no rat.

Walking away from Viviana Rowan had been one of the harder things Neal had done in a long time, but it was necessary. He didn't think she'd be the kind of woman who would fold under a little pressure. Better to ease off and rethink his strategy, figure out what she wanted.

Not that he was thinking too clearly right now. The woman had rattled him.

He'd heard the rumors about Drake and Helen and how they'd met. She'd taken away his pain when they touched. Was it possible he'd found another one of their women? A female Theronai?

A bubble of hope swelled inside him, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't seem to make it stop. He knew that when it burst, he'd suffer, but he couldn't seem to stop that fragile feeling from gaining momentum.

Neal slid behind the wheel of his truck and dialed Drake. If anyone could help Neal figure all this out, it would be his buddy and fellow Theronai.

"Hey, Neal," answered Drake. He was out of breath, but the sun had been down for only a few minutes. It hadn't been dark long enough for the couple to be out fighting yet. Which left one other reason for all the panting.

"I interrupted you and Helen, didn't I?"

There was a smug smile in Drake's tone. "A couple of minutes earlier and you would have.

What do you need?"

"I met this woman tonight. When I touched her, the pain . . ." He didn't know how to describe it. "It faded. But then it came back so fast and hard I thought I'd lose my mind."

Drake's tone was sharp and clear, all business. "When you stopped touching her?"

"Yeah. Sound familiar?"

"Absolutely. Who is she?"

"Her name is Viviana Rowan. She collects antiques."

Hope rang pure and clear in Drake's voice. "Tell me about what you felt."

Neal didn't much like talking about his feelings, but for Viviana, he'd make an exception. "It's like I said. I shook her hand and the pain just . . . fell away. When she pulled her hand back, I thought I was going to be crushed under the pressure. It happened twice. I wasn't sure I'd survive a third round."

"Did your luceria react?"

Neal glanced at his ring. There might have been more movement of color in the iridescent band, but it was hard to tell in the dim confines of his truck. "I don't know. I wasn't thinking about it at the time. I was too busy trying not to puke up my guts on her floor."

"Does she bear the mark of a female Theronai?" asked Drake.

The ring-shaped birthmark. Neal had nearly forgotten about that. No women of their kind had been born for so long, their men had all but stopped looking for the signs. "I don't know. She was clothed from her neck down, all prim and proper. I didn't ask about any birthmarks, and if I had, she probably would have kicked me out sooner."

"You're not with her?"

"I'm in front of her home. Outside on the street."

"Where are you? Has the sun set there yet?"

"About five minutes ago."

"Get the hell back in there and don't you dare leave her side," ordered Drake. The note of fear in his voice was contagious.

Neal was already out of his truck when he asked, "Why?"

"Because if she is one of ours and you touched her, you might have destroyed any natural defenses she had. The Synestryn might be able to find her now, especially if she bleeds."

The broken glass.

Stark, ragged fear sliced through him as he slammed out of his truck. He ran across the street, cursing at the passing cars in his way. "Thanks, Drake. I won't leave her again until I know for sure if she's ours."

"I'll send Logan to you. He might be able to verify her bloodlines."

Neal didn't like the idea of one of those bloodsuckers anywhere near her. Her neck was far too pretty, her blood far too precious. "No. I'll find out myself, even if I have to strip-search her."

"Helen and I can come. Where are you?"

Neal didn't answer. If Drake came, he might bring some of the other men—men who might be compatible with Viviana. Neal didn't want to take that risk. He'd already gotten off on the wrong foot with her. If she was one of their own, the last thing he needed was competition. He'd found her, and as barbaric as it might be, that meant she was his. At least for now.

"I've got it covered," he told Drake. "I'll check in later."

Neal hung up, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow dart down the alley beside Viviana's home. It could have been a large dog looking for scraps in the garbage, but the hair standing up on the back of his neck told him that was wishful thinking.

He didn't bother knocking on the door, doubting she'd answer. Instead he ran through the alley to the back of her house and dialed the number he'd called to set up the appointment. He hoped it was her cell phone and not some office line.

It rang once before he heard her frightened voice. "Mr. Etan? Please tell me that's your dog in my house."

Relief at the sound of her voice was quickly washed away by the implications of what she'd said. "Dog? What did it look like?"

"Big. Furry. Black claws. Glowing green eyes."

That was no dog. It was a sgath. A Synestryn demon.

Neal's limbs iced over. If that thing so much as scratched her, she'd be poisoned, and that was the best-case scenario of what could happen if he didn't get in there and stop it.

"I'm coming. Where are you?" he demanded.

"Upstairs. Third floor. It's in the hall. I closed the door, but I don't know how long that will keep it out."

Not long.

Neal reached the back door of her home. It was hanging wide-open. The doorknob lay on the back step, crumpled and torn from its mooring. Paw prints were easily visible in the snow. More than one set.

One sgath had already found her. He didn't stop to study the tracks to find out how many more were inside. He'd find a way to deal with as many as it took to get her out safe.

He drew his sword. It became visible as it left the sheath mounted to his belt.

He heard a heavy thud from upstairs, followed by a frightened shriek coming through the phone.

Neal sprinted for the stairs. "Hang on, sweetheart. I'm coming."

The heavy wooden door shuddered against another attack by the giant dog.

Viviana yelped and clutched her cell phone in one hand, her candlestick in the other. There were no weapons in here—only a store of books and trinkets so old they'd crumble if she held them too hard.

Mr. Etan had said he was coming, but she had no way of knowing how long that might take. By the way the door was rattling, she guessed it wasn't going to be fast enough.

She wriggled between the side of a low bookshelf and the corner of the room and shoved hard, hoping to use the shelf as a barricade to keep the door shut. The shelf was laden with books and seriously heavy, but it scooted a couple of inches.

The dog slammed into the door again, only this time one of its claws punctured the wood, shooting shards of splinters into the room.

Viviana clamped her lips shut over a scream of fear and pushed harder. She still had five feet to cover before the shelf was going to do anything to impede the dog's progress.

If it was a dog. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn't something . . . else.

Her books were full of images of horrible, writhing beasts and monsters so terrifying there was no way they were real. And whatever was outside her door was definitely real.

She pushed that train of thought from her mind. If she survived this, she'd dedicate as many hours to the question as necessary, but for now, she had to focus on staying alive until help arrived.

The shelf moved another few inches, giving her enough room to use her legs to better advantage.

Another loud, hammering blow to the door sent more wood flying into the room. This time, the opening was big enough for an entire paw to reach through, searching blindly for her.

That was most definitely not a dog. Its claws were way too long, its paw too wide, and its arm was at least as long as her own, thick as a man's leg. Maybe it was a bear or some kind of large, black jungle cat escaped from the zoo.

Whatever it was, it was closer to those terrible images in her books than to anything that belonged on a leash.

The thing let out a vicious snarl, lashing the air with its searching paw. A second later, it yelped in pain and two feet of severed, furry leg dropped through the opening onto her floor. Black blood oozed from the severed end, somehow burning the floor, sending plumes of thick, oily smoke up into the air.

Viviana froze in terror, unable to make sense of what she saw.

The door flew open, batting the furry limb across the floor toward her. She shrieked and jerked away, only to find she was trapped in the corner, unable to move any farther. Her elbow jabbed the wall behind her, sending zings of sensation out to her fingertips.

"Viviana?" came Mr. Etan's deep, worried voice a second before his head appeared around the doorframe.

She didn't answer him. She couldn't. Her mouth was too dry, her throat too constricted for any words to pass.

In one hand he held a sword covered in the same oily black fluid that was burning her floor. The other hand—the one with the ring she'd noticed earlier—was held out to her.

He took a step toward her. "We have to go. There are more sgath in your house."

Viviana looked at his wide hand, then down at the paw of the thing he'd called a sgath. He'd killed it. With a sword. How was any of this even possible?

His voice was confident, steady. He showed no signs that anything that had happened seemed odd to him. "Sweetheart, I know you're scared. I know all of this is a lot to take in, but now is not the time for hesitation. We need to go."

Go. Before the other sgath in her house found them.

She gave herself a hard mental shake, then reached for his hand. She didn't know this man, but she knew he'd killed to save her. For now, that was going to have to be enough.

Her thin cotton gloves were damp with sweat, but she didn't dare take them off. She remembered how odd she'd felt when they'd touched before, and she really couldn't stand any more bizarre stimuli tonight.

The heat of his skin sank through the glove, and along with it came that odd resonance she'd felt before, only this time it was muted. Even so, it was still enough to make her suck in a startled breath. A shiver wriggled up her back, allowing some of the too-tight muscles there to loosen.

He gave her a tug. "Come on. We need to hurry."

She didn't know where they were going, but for now, she was happy to be leaving behind all this strangeness. Once she was away from here, she'd figure things out and make some sense out of it all. For now, leaving sounded like a fantastic idea.

She stepped over the severed paw, and now that she was able to see through the doorway, she saw the remains of the sgath. It was in four pieces, and each one of them was leaking black blood, sending thin tendrils of smoke up from her floor. The head lay against the banister, its sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling. At least they were no longer glowing.

Mr. Etan helped her step over the biggest part of the carcass. She clutched his arm tight, feeling the dense, thick muscles beneath his leather jacket. She'd never been more thankful for a brute than she was in this moment. He may have been misplaced in time, but none of the men she'd dated would have stood a chance against the thing he'd just killed. Maybe all those muscles were for more than just vanity's sake.

"Thank you," she whispered, finally finding enough of her voice to speak.

"Sure thing, sweetheart, but we're not out of the woods yet. Stay close."

The way he was holding her arm in a death grip, she didn't think any other option was possible.

From the stairwell somewhere below them came a caustic, angry growl.

Mr. Etan stopped. "It's caught our scent. Is there any other way out?"

"Fire escape down to the alley."

A blur of movement caught her eye, but by the time she'd turned her head to see what it was, Mr. Etan was already in motion. He pushed her behind him, letting out an agonized hiss. It looked like he was fighting the need to double over in pain, but in the end, he stood straight and tall, his blade ready for the sgath that leaped up the stairs, gouging deep grooves into the wood. It didn't even bother to use the treads—just bounded between one railing and the other, hopping up each flight of stairs in two giant leaps.

It lunged at Mr. Etan, but he stepped aside at the last second, pushing her along with him. It bounced against the wall next to her head, ripping the plaster from the wall with its teeth.

Mr. Etan ducked low and spun so fast his blade was a flashing arc of silver. One of the thing's legs flew away from its body, streaming oily blood as it went. A drop of it landed on her suit jacket and began to sizzle.

Mr. Etan shoved her back with one big hand, forcing her to stumble away from the sgath. "Get out," he ordered.

Viviana regained her balance and jerked the jacket off her body before that blood could touch her skin. By the time she had, Mr. Etan had landed another solid blow to the sgath's side.

It roared in pain and its green eyes flared bright. For a moment she was frozen in place, struck by the oddity that the green color reminded her of all those Mr. Yuck stickers her mother had placed on the chemicals in their home when Viviana was in elementary school.

"Go!" he shouted. "Now."

She gave herself a hard shake to rid herself of the need to stare at that eerie light and turned to run. She'd made it only two steps toward the fire escape when another one of those sgath creatures lifted its head and peered into the window.

The sgath snorted out a heavy breath, making the glass fog up. Before that misty spot had completely cleared, the monster lunged for her, shattering the window.

Chapter Three

Neal heard the sound of glass shattering. A second later, a blast of cold air hit him.

Viviana let out a yelp of fear and bumped into his back. "There's another one," she yelled.

The sgath he'd fought tonight were bigger and stronger than those he'd been fighting for decades. Maybe the things had found a stockpile of steroids or something.

He shoved forward, blade first, lunging to push the sgath back on its one remaining leg. It stumbled and fel in an awkward heap.

Normally, he would have finished the thing off, but apparently there were more urgent matters that needed his attention, like an uninjured sgath going after a defenseless woman.

Neal spun around, tracking Viviana's position as he moved. Even though he couldn't see her, he could somehow feel her presence, like sunlight glowing against his skin. She gave off a subtle kind of humming he knew he'd be able to track even if he were blind.

He grabbed her arm and hauled her through the bedroom door into the room with the new sgath. He booted the door between them and the injured sgath closed, hoping for a few seconds to deal with the new threat.

Viviana wielded a crystal lamp like it would actually do some good against the demon, and while he admired her courage, she was just going to get herself killed if she tried to fight it.

Before she could, Neal charged, pulling out all the stops. He let loose all the pain he'd carried for too long, his anger at the time that damn stun gun had stolen from him, and his worry for the woman at his side. Fueled by that rage and fear, his body exploded into motion, going through a series of coordinated, powerful movements he'd practiced more times than he could count.

He met the sgath midcharge and used its momentum against it. His sword sliced deep, sending a thick spray of black blood across the cheery yellow wall paper.

The sgath screamed, but its vocal cords had been severed, and the noise came out as more of a breezy hiss.

The cut was deep, but apparently not deep enough to stop the thing. It opened its jaws and raised its front claws to strike.

Neal was in a bad position, and as the nanoseconds passed in an adrenaline-slowed crawl, he realized he wasn't going to be able to recover his stance in time to dodge the blow. His flank was unprotected, and in another heartbeat he was going to lose a big chunk of flesh between his ribs and his hip. There wasn't time to do anything to stop it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sparkling object fly past. It slammed into the head of the sgath. Crystal prisms erupted into the room, casting pretty rainbows over the sgath's matted fur.

It reared back in shock, shaking its head as if stunned.

That motion gave Neal enough time to recover and avoid the incoming blow. He took a half step to his right, tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, and shoved it into the sgath's chin and up into its brain.

It wriggled there for a moment, lashing out blindly before it fell still and silent.

The bedroom door burst open, bouncing off the wall so hard it nearly closed again. Only the hulking form of the injured sgath charging into the room kept it open.

Neal didn't have time to release his sword, so he hauled the heavy body of the dead sgath along the blade, using it to bat at its own kind. His muscles strained under the added weight, but his blade held strong and solid.

The injured sgath flailed and hit the wall hard.

Neal shoved the dead sgath from his sword with his boot, and wasted no time in finishing off the last threat to Viviana.

He wiped the blood from his blade on the dead sgath's fur, and turned to the woman.

She was standing in the corner, taking up as little space as possible. She had some kind of ceramic figurine in her gloved hands, clutching it like it might save her life. Her hazel eyes were wide with shock, and her slim body was shaking so hard he could see her silk blouse shimmering with the tiny tremors.

Neal moved to her as he scanned her skin and clothing for signs of blood splatter. He found none.

Keeping his voice calm, he said, "It's over now, but we need to go."

She didn't seem to hear him, so he eased the little figurine from her fingers and took her hand.

He could feel her chilled skin, even through the glove, but he'd get her warm soon enough. He just needed to get her out of the house and into his truck so they could avoid any more unexpected guests.

He tugged her forward and she took one stumbling step. Clearly she was still in shock, not that he could blame her. A lot had happened tonight.

But if he didn't get her out of here, a hell of a lot more was going to happen.

Rather than trying to talk her down, he wrapped his arm around her slim waist and lifted her over the sgath corpses. By the time he set her on her feet at the broken window, she was batting at his hand. "I can walk."

If her legs were as shaky as her voice, she was going to tumble down the fire escape. "I'm sure you can. But it's icy out there. We're safer if we stick together."

Neal scanned the alley below and saw no signs of more Synestryn. It was going to have to be good enough.

They went down the steps. He kept a firm grip on her arm in case she froze up or slipped. The last few feet were a bit slow, but they made it down into the alley.

He helped her over a mound of trash, and then he picked up the pace, heading for his truck.

Snow crunched under their feet as they went, and accumulated in their hair.

Viviana was shaking like crazy, and Neal didn't know if it was more from shock or cold. He slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. She clutched it closed at her throat.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

He waited for the first safe break in the traffic and hurried them across the street, ignoring the horns and outraged shouts from the cars he forced to slow so they wouldn't hit them.

The lights on his truck flashed as he unlocked the doors. He didn't bother taking her around to the passenger's side, but instead opened the driver's side, lifted her onto the high bench seat, and got in behind her, crowding her so she had to scoot over to make room for him.

The engine started with a deep rumble. He cranked up the heat and leaned over so he could buckle her in. Then he shoved his way into the oncoming traffic, drawing yet more blasts from car horns.

Whatever. He wasn't in the mood to be a courteous driver. He had more important things to worry about.

Like what the hell he was going to do with her now.

The St. Louis skyline was well behind them when Viviana's mind finally stopped sputtering and started running again.

She'd been attacked by monsters. Three monsters. Mr. Etan had killed them all to save her.

She turned her head the slightest bit, trying to look at him without appearing like she was. She'd never seen anyone move like that. He was mesmerizing. Brutal grace. Beautiful death.

He hadn't said a word since they'd gotten in his truck. There was no radio to block the silence, only the humming of the pavement under his tires and her too-fast breathing.

Viviana didn't know what to say. "Thank you" seemed a bit inadequate. In fact, she wasn't even sure if she should thank him at all. For all she knew, he'd sent those things after her so he could save her and impress her enough to let him have the gadget he wanted.

"Shouldn't we go back? Call the police? Or animal control?"

"No."

"Where are you taking me?"

"South."

"South where?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead yet. I just wanted to keep moving so the truck would warm up. You were shaking."

She still was, though she wasn't nearly as cold now as she had been, thanks to his leather jacket and the delicious heat that was pouring out of the truck's vents. She pulled off her cotton gloves and held her hands close to the dash to warm them.

"Do you want something to eat?" he asked.

She looked at him to see if it was some kind of joke. He wasn't smiling. "Are you serious? We nearly died and you want to eat?"

He lifted one thick shoulder in a shrug. "We're still alive. Gotta keep our strength up."

"I'd rather talk about what happened back there."

Guilt flattened his mouth. "That was my fault."

"You brought those things with you?"

He spared her a quick, appalled glance. "Hell, no. I'd never do that. But I think it's my fault they found you."

"Care to explain that?"

He shook his head. "It's a long story, but the short version is too shocking to blurt out."

"I'm tough, Mr. Etan. I think I can take it."

"Neal," he said. "Call me Neal. And tough or not, I'm not sure you need another shock so soon after being attacked by sgath."

"How about you let me judge whether or not I'm able to handle more. I assure you my constitution is not so delicate as you might think."

He grunted his disagreement as he pulled into a fast-food restaurant and parked. "If it's like the rest of you, it is."

Indignation was swiftly burning away all traces of the fear she'd felt earlier. "I think I should get out here and call a cab. Thank you for saving me. you'll understand if I prefer never to see you again." That last part was a bit of a lie. She'd enjoy seeing him as often as possible. He was the epitome of the term eye candy, but that didn't mean she would indulge.

She unfastened her seat belt and reached for the door handle.

Neal moved so fast she didn't even have time to yelp. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back across the leather seat until she was practically in his lap. She felt the hardness of his body behind her, the heat of his big hands sinking through her skirt.

When he spoke, she could feel his breath brush past the top of her ear. "If you leave me, you probably won't live to see sunrise."

Her insides began to quiver, and she wasn't sure if it was his extreme prediction or the feel of his hands on her that caused the odd reaction. That resonant vibration was back, streaming through her, pooling in her belly, and expanding to fill up all the empty spaces.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said, her voice shaking as much as her body.

"I'm not. Those sgath found you once; they can do it again."

"You said that was your fault. If I'm not with you, it won't happen again."

"Wrong."

She wasn't sure, but she thought she felt his mouth make the briefest, fluttering contact with her ear. She shivered, though she wasn't sure if it was his touch that made it happen, or merely the thought of him touching her that did it.

Either way, she wasn't going to sit here and be manhandled. "Let me go."

Slowly, he released her hips, dragging his fingers over her wool skirt so slowly it was almost a caress. "Please don't try to run," he told her, the warning ringing clearly in his tone. "I can't let that happen."

Viviana scooted back across the seat as far as she could go. She faced him, determined to watch those too-fast hands of his. "Why not?"

"I nee—" He cut off whatever he'd been going to say and started again. "We still have the matter of the gadget to settle. I can't go home without it. My friend's life is at stake."

She gave him a steady stare. "So is yours if you grab me again like that."

A small smile played about his bold mouth, giving her the sudden urge to reach out and see if his lips were as soft as they looked or as hard as the rest of him. "Fair enough."

She straightened her skirt and smoothed her hands over her hair to make sure her bun hadn't come undone in all the excitement. "Let's start with this friend of yours. How is it you think my artifact will help?"

"It's some kind of healing device. My friend is suffering from a progressive kind of paralysis.

Without this gadget, he'll die. I won't let that happen."

"Stop it with the thinly veiled threats, will you? If I lived through those horrible creatures, I can certainly live through whatever you have to offer."

"Don't forget I was the one who killed them."

Which reminded her . . . "Your sword. Where did it go?"

He patted his side. "It's here. You just can't see it."

Viviana snorted. Her mother would have frowned in censure at the noise, which brought about a wave of grief and loneliness. She missed Mother so much—even her annoying parts.

Viviana closed her eyes and suffered through the unwanted emotions. Her heart had been through a workout tonight, and she couldn't find the strength to keep everything in check like normal.

"Hey. What's wrong?" asked Neal gently a moment before his hand settled on hers.

An effervescent tingling wove its way through her arm and into her chest. It expanded into a plume of warmth that drove away all thoughts of grief and sadness. For a single, shining moment, Viviana felt safe and happy. Like she belonged.

She'd spent her entire life standing outside, looking in. She'd never been like other children. As an orphan, she'd begun life as an outcast—an infant no one wanted. Her mother had adopted her before any of Viviana's memories had begun to form, but it hadn't seemed to save her from the knowledge that she was different.

Mother said she was special, but Viviana knew that was simply a euphemism for someone who didn't fit in.

"I'm fine," she managed to say.

"You don't look fine. You look like you just found out someone killed your kitten."

Viviana swallowed and collected her wits. "Too much excitement for one night. That's all."

She started to pull her hand away, but Neal's grip tightened slightly, holding her hand in his. "Not yet," he said. "I'm not ready to start hurting again."

She blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Let's get back to the gadget, shall we? You were just about to tell me where it was so we could go get it and save my friend Torr."

"Nice try, but not good enough. You were going to show me your sword."

Viviana was sure she'd seen the intricate vines winding around the hilt. Even as fast as he'd moved, she knew what she saw. And if she was right, his sword was made by the same ancient people as her treasured collection.

Neal lifted a brow. "You want to see my sword?"

"Yes."

"If I show you, will you tell me where the gadget is?"

"Maybe."

His thick chest expanded with a heavy sigh. "Fine."

Slowly, so slowly she could feel his touch over every nerve, he pulled his hand away from hers.

The moment their skin broke contact, his whole body went tense. Sweat broke out over his forehead, and his breathing was fast and shallow.

Worry for him hit her, worming its way so deep it was almost as if she'd known him for years.

"Are you okay?"

"Just give me a minute."

She did. Seconds ticked by, and slowly his body relaxed.

"Damn, that gets worse every time," he said, panting.

"What gets worse?"

He shook his head and pinned her with his glittering gaze. "That's all part of that long story.

Suffice it to say that when I touch you it feels really good. When I stop, not so much."

She felt the same way. She opened her mouth to tell him to just keep touching her before she realized how it might sound. She didn't even know the man. She certainly wasn't going to offer to let him put his hands on her, no matter how lovely the idea was.

He moved and a sword appeared in his hand, as if conjured from thin air. "How did you do that?"

"The sword is invisible when it's strapped to my body. Keeps the locals from freaking out."

"But . . . how?"

"Magic."

Magic. The word trickled into her, shifting puzzle pieces in her mind. What had been a confusing set of facts before now became a clearer picture. If magic was real—and she was looking at proof that it was—then that explained a lot of things. All those stories she'd read. All those artifacts that seemed to have a purpose, but no one could ever determine what it was. It was all beginning to make sense.

Neal laid the flat of the blade against his forearm, pointing the pommel toward her. She leaned over the piece, enthralled by the power of it. It was beautiful, a thriving, pristine work of art. The detail was incredible. Intricate leaves etched with such precision she could see the veins wove around on a vine, forming the guard. Part of the detail in the hilt had been worn away with use, making her wonder just how old this piece was. "Where did you get it?"

"My father had it made for me when I was born."

Part of her excitement deflated. He couldn't be more than thirty-five, making the piece a beautiful replica, but nothing more. "Did the metalsmith pattern it off of an antique? Is that why it looks so worn?"

"It looks worn because it is worn."

"It would take decades of hard use to manage that."

"Yeah. It would."

"What? You're saying that you've done that? You can't have even been using it for more than a decade or two."

"I'm older than I look."

The way he said it gave her pause. She wasn't sure she should ask, but she really needed to know. "How old?"

"You sure are a curious thing. I think I should stop answering your questions until you start answering mine."

"The only thing you seem to want to know is where the artifact is."

"Now you're catching on."

"If I tell you, what's in it for me?"

"How much do you want?"

"I'm not interested in money. I want your sword."

He let out a hard laugh. "Not on your life. This sword in the wrong hands could be dangerous."

"It's dangerous in the right hands, too."

He gave her a slow wink. "Glad you noticed."

Another shiver coursed along her limbs, and this time it had nothing to do with his touch. All he had to do was give her a wink and she melted.

He sheathed his sword and it faded out of sight. She was dying to get her hands on the sheath to see how he managed it, but she didn't think he'd appreciate her making greedy, grabby hands, especially near his manlier parts.

Not that she was thinking about his manlier parts. She simply knew they were there. She was not going to look, no matter how much she'd piqued her own curiosity with the thought.

Her eyes slid down his torso, admiring the way the mock turtleneck hugged his muscular contours. She'd almost embarrassed herself by staring at his crotch when his voice jerked her attention back to his face, where it belonged.

"See something you like?" he asked.

She cleared her throat, ignoring his question. "So, if I can't have your sword, do you have any other items I might be interested in?"

"I don't know. What kind of things do you collect?"

"Items from a long-dead group of people called the Sentinels."

Neal went still, his eyes glittering in the dark confines of the truck. "Where did you hear about the Sentinels?"

"Books. You should give them a try sometime."

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but those books of yours had at least one thing wrong. They're not long-dead, sweetheart."

Viviana's body went numb at those words. "What do you know of them?"

"More than you, I'm sure. I happen to be one."

"Liar," she spat out before she could stop herself. It was easy to say he was one of them, but for all she knew, he'd researched her obsession with the Sentinels in order to win her over so he could get what he wanted from her.

There was one way to test him. "Which race are you?"

His brows lifted in a show of admiration. "You really have done your homework."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Theronai," he said, waving the ring on his finger in front of her face. "Though I would have thought the luceria would have given it away."

Luceria. She rolled the word around in her head, letting the sound of it soak into her memory. "I don't remember any mention of a luceria."

"Guess you don't know everything, then, huh?"

"I know there's one sure way to prove what you say is correct."

"What? You mean that slaying those sgath wasn't proof enough? What about the way you feel when we touch? I bet no human man has ever made you feel like that before."

"I don't feel a thing," she lied. She couldn't remember reading anything about feeling odd at the touch of a Theronai, but that could have been the fault of her translation, too.

"No?" he challenged. "So you wouldn't mind if I touched you again, then?"

Yes, please. She'd like that very much. Not that she'd ever tell him so. This man needed no more weapons against her now that they shared a common interest. Sure, he said he was a Sentinel, but that had to be a fabrication. They were all dead.

Weren't they?

"Show me your lifemark," she demanded.

A slow, hot smile spread out over Neal's face. "If you wanted to get my shirt off, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask."

With that, he pulled the long-sleeved shirt off over his head, baring his chest.

Viviana stared and forgot to breathe.

Not only was he a living sculpture of masculine perfection; he was also telling her the truth. He was a Theronai. The giant tree spanning his chest, stretching from his left shoulder to well below his belt, was proof of that.

The detail was astounding. Even in the dim confines of the truck, she could still make out each individual leaf and twig. The bark was so lifelike, she itched to feel the texture of it under her fingers. As she watched, the tree seemed to sway with some invisible wind.

It had to be an optical illusion caused by the steady expansion of his ribs as he breathed.

Viviana reached out a hand. The compulsion to touch such an amazing work of art was uncontrollable.

Her fingers came to rest lightly on the image, and only then, when she felt the warmth of his skin, did she remember that this was no mere image on a canvas. She was touching a living, breathing man.

Beneath her fingers, she felt the branches shift, swaying toward her touch. An electric current flowed out of him, tingling her fingertips.

Neal sucked in a breath and held it. "I was right. You are one of ours."

"One of your what?"

"People. You're a Theronai. Like me."

Shock jolted Viviana's gaze up to his. He wasn't teasing. His dark blue eyes were steady on hers and there wasn't even the faintest hint of a smile anywhere to be found.

She started to pull her hand away, but he flattened his palm over her hand, holding it in place.

His warm skin was stretched tight over hard muscles. She could feel the subtle vibration of his pulse pounding in his chest.

Her breathing was too fast when she finally found the ability to speak. "I don't understand."

"You're not the first woman we've found who didn't know she was one of us. There are others like you—women fathered by men from another world. I know this all must be really confusing to you, but believe me when I tell you that you, Viviana Rowan, may be the only person on the face of this planet who can save my life."

Chapter Four

Neal could hardly believe his eyes. Only the chaotic swirl of colors in his ring proved to him that he wasn't just experiencing a bout of wishful thinking. Viviana really could save him.

If she chose to do so.

She tugged on the hand he had pinned against his chest, but Neal wasn't ready for her to stop touching him yet. He was dealing with enough without adding an avalanche of pain on top of it.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What's wrong with you? You seem perfectly healthy to me."

"How much do you know about lifemarks?"

"I read they were magical images put on men at birth that marked them as one of the Theronai."

"That's partly true. We're born with the mark, though it's merely a seed at that time. It sprouts and grows as we do."

"How is that possible? A tattoo doesn't grow."

"It's not a tattoo. It's a living mark that's as much a part of us as freckles or a birthmark—like the ring-shaped one you have."

She sucked in a shocked breath. "How did you know about that? I know you haven't seen it."

The fact that she bore the mark of a female of his race was simply more proof he was right.

Neal smiled and leaned closer. "Where is it, sweetheart? Want to show me? I showed you mine."

She turned a lovely shade of pink and her spine straightened. "You were explaining to me exactly how I'm supposed to save you."

"See how bare my lifemark is?"

She looked down and he knew what she saw. He had only a few precious leaves left hanging on.

"The leaves are gone."

"That's right. When the last one falls, my soul starts to die. I'll become evil and twisted. Unless I kill myself first, which I'd planned to do, right up until I met you. You can save me from that fate."

To his relief, she didn't seem appalled at how much he needed her, only curious. "How?"

"There's power inside me, power I can't use. I've been collecting it since I was a boy, saving it for the one woman who could use it. You're that woman, Viviana."

She let out another indelicate snort—the only unladylike sound he'd heard her make all night.

Even her screams of fear were prim and proper. "No, I'm not."

He pressed his hand harder over hers, pushing a few sparks of energy from his chest into her skin. "If you weren't, you wouldn't feel that." He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.

More sparks fled his lips and jumped eagerly into her as if they'd been waiting to make the trip for years.

"This can't be happening."

"Why not? You said you've been studying us. You should know all about this."

"None of my books covered . . . this. It's all too much. I need some time to think."

A pang of disappointment fell over Neal, but he was tough. He could take it. Some things simply couldn't be forced. Getting a woman to commit the rest of her life to him was definitely one of those things.

"Okay. I'll back off, but not about the gadget. I need it. Torr needs it. I won't take no for an answer."

She gave him a shaky nod. "All right. It's obvious to me there are a lot of things I don't know. If you promise to take me with you and answer my questions along the way, then I'll take you to the artifact."

"It's a deal."

Neal pulled up to the home of the retired Professor Reynolds, the man who had possession of the healing device.

"All the lights are out," said Viviana. "I hate to wake him."

Her slender fingers were laced through his, and even though it made driving harder, he wasn't about to let go. He'd been pain-free for nearly an hour now, and it was enough to make him euphoric.

"I'm sure he won't mind, considering this is an emergency."

"I want to tell him about you. He loves these artifacts as much as I do. That's why I loaned the disks to him."

"Maybe some other time. I'm not sure I could handle another barrage of scholarly questions tonight. I might go hoarse."

Truth was, he hadn't minded her nonstop questions at all. The fact that she was interested in him and his people was just going to make her transition into his world that much easier.

He knew how hard it had been on Helen to leave behind her human upbringing. He hoped Viviana's background would make it easier on her.

He really did want things to be easy on her. The thought of her suffering made him want to pound on something with his bare fists. Not good for his carefully held control.

Neal kept her hand in his as he hopped out of the truck. She scooted to the edge and stopped.

Her hazel eyes were dark with worry as she stared at him for a long moment. "What am I doing?"

"Helping a man in need?"

She looked at their joined hands. "I can't stop touching you. I feel like a kid with a crush, and I don't even know you. This is not like me at all."

She was getting cold feet, letting all the confusion and questions sink into that clever head of hers. "No? What are you like?"

"Slow. Methodical. I think things through. I don't jump into trucks with strange men in the middle of the night and hold their hands."

"I'm your first, then?" he teased.

She didn't smile. "I'm scared, Neal. This whole thing scares me more than those monsters ever could. You're telling me that my whole life has been a lie. That I'm not even human."

"Nothing about your life is a lie. You just didn't know your own family tree, that's all."

"You think I'm going to save your life."

"I won't pretend it's not what I want. I don't want to die. I want to keep fighting. I honestly never thought I'd find you in time, but now that I have . . ."

"You want to keep me."

"We'll go slow," he promised. "I still have time. I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want."

"My life as I know it is over, isn't it?"

He trailed a finger over her cheek, reveling in the softness of her skin. She was so pretty. So elegantly unattainable. He had no business with a woman like her, even if his luceria thought otherwise. "I prefer to think of it as the start of a new life for you—one surrounded by the people you've been reading about for years. This will be your chance to study us in a way no one else ever has: from the inside."

"You're pushing all the right buttons to gain my cooperation, aren't you?"

"Sweetheart, if I'm ever lucky enough to push your buttons, you won't wonder why I'm doing it.

You'll know."

That delightful pink flush rose up from the prim collar of her shirt, making Neal wonder just how far down her blush went. He could think of a lot better ways to be passing the night with her than showing up uninvited at some stodgy professor's house.

He'd strip her out of all those proper clothes and get as much skin-on-skin contact as possible.

The play of sparks between them—the feel of minute traces of his power soaking into her skin—

would be enough to light the sheets on fire. And even though he wasn't supposed to want a woman like Viviana, the luceria thought they'd be good together.

Who was he to argue with centuries of proof that the system worked? If the luceria wanted him to have her, he was going to enjoy convincing her to play along with tradition.

And part of that convincing was getting her thinking in the right direction.

He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her toward him. She went along for the ride, closing the distance between them. She slid forward on the seat, which shoved her skirt up her thighs.

Neal stepped up, wedging himself between her knees so he could get as close as he needed to be.

Her eyes slid to his mouth and he knew in that moment that he had her. Victory surged through him, making him feel stronger, more powerful. Just the thought of this woman wanting to kiss him was enough to send him into overdrive. Bring on the battle. Let a dozen charging Synestryn bear down on him. He'd take them all out. Not one of them would get close to his lady.

A low sound of warning rose up from his chest and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it.

He felt Viviana stiffen slightly under his hand, but it was too late for second thoughts now.

He pressed his lips to hers, forcing himself to keep things light. No open mouths. No tongue.

Just the contact of her lips on his.

It wasn't even close to enough.

He wanted more. Desire spread through his body, pooling in his gut, making his limbs vibrate.

His luceria was freaking out, hopping around on his skin as if celebrating the contact.

Against his will, his fingers tightened around her neck, stroking slightly over her bare nape. He wanted to taste her there, to kiss and suck and bite while he took her from behind.

His cock was throbbing and swollen, and the need to push her legs wide and rub himself against her was swiftly taking over all rational thought. He slid a hand up her thigh, feeling the silkiness of her stockings, then the even softer texture of her bare skin. Thigh-highs. Naughty girl under all that prim-and-proper.

Just the thought made him lose control.

Neal opened his mouth to deepen their kiss, but she was way ahead of him. Her tongue danced across his lips, flicking against his, making his blood heat. She fisted her hands in his shirt, jerking him closer, and all he could think was that he wished he hadn't put it back on. He'd give anything to feel her palms against his bare chest again—feel his lifemark arcing to connect with her.

She slid to the edge of the seat, widening her thighs to make plenty of room for his body. The bite of her fingernails through his shirt was an exquisite torture, but not nearly as good as the sharp little nips of her teeth on his bottom lip.

A soft, feminine moan filled the space between them. Cold air swirled around them.

He'd have to keep her warm, cover her body with his. Not that he'd mind. He'd be her living blanket any day of the week and count himself a thousand kinds of lucky.

Neal cupped her breast, feeling the slippery silk fabric of her blouse warm between them. Her nipple puckered in his palm, though the damn layers of fabric she wore kept him from feeling it the way he wanted. He wondered if her nipples would tighten like that for his mouth, too.

Only one way to find out.

A sound of cracking ice came from behind him. Instincts as deeply a part of him as his own bones rose up, shouting a warning.

Neal ripped himself away from Viviana, drawing his sword as he moved. A dump truck full of agony unloaded on his head, tearing a pained cry from his throat.

He fought the need to double over, gritting his teeth to stay standing. The tip of his sword trembled, but he kept it up.

"What is it?" asked Viviana, her voice tight with sudden fear.

"Heard something."

Slowly, the pain receded until it was no longer draining him of strength. It still pounded through him, but now it was at the level where it was just pissing him off.

He searched the area, channeling tiny motes of power to his eyes so he could see through the murky darkness.

Nothing. No movement, no glowing eyes, nothing but the white landscape and the muted silence of snowfall.

"I guess it was just a tree branch cracking in the wind," he said. His instincts weren't usually so faulty, but he had been more than a bit distracted a few seconds ago. "We should go inside."

Where he could protect her better if the shit did hit the fan.

He turned around just in time to see her pull her skirt back down, giving him only the briefest of glimpses of black silk stockings against pale, smooth skin.

Her mouth was red, and a few strands of hair had escaped her spinsterish bun. He could see her rapid pulse shimmering in the fabric covering her breasts. Her nipples were still hard, making Neal's mouth water.

He promised himself they'd get back here—to where her mouth was on his and he could feell the damp heat between her thighs against his fly. They'd get back to that moment, and when they did, he wasn't going to stop until she lay hot and sated beneath him.

Maybe not even then.

Unfortunately, business came first. Once they got the gadget, he'd take her back to Dabyr, where he could take his time with her. Linger. He definitely wanted to linger over the lovely Viviana Rowan. No question there.

Being careful not to touch her skin, he zipped his jacket up over her to keep her warm. The thing was way too big, falling over her hands, but it would work until they could find something that fit her better. And if any demons came their way, the magically enhanced leather would provide her with at least a little protection.

Once she was bundled and warm, he turned his attention back to the job at hand.

Professor Reynolds lived in an old farmhouse in the country, with only a few neighbors visible in the distance. Round bales of hay dotted the surrounding land, their tops covered in the accumulating snow. Everything was white and pristine, including the sidewalk leading up to the professor's front door.

Neal helped Viviana traverse the slippery sidewalk in her high heels. She rang the bell. Neal looked up at the house, but no lights came on.

"Maybe he's a heavy sleeper."

She rang again. And again.

A bad feeling started to creep up Neal's spine. "Could he be out of town?"

"I talked to him earlier today. He didn't mention anything like that."

Neal reached for the knob. It turned easily. "Unlocked."

"Not much need for locks out here. The professor likes it because it's quiet and he can work without interruption."

The house was dark. Neal stepped inside, drawing his sword. Just in case. "Stay behind me."

The foul smell of sewage filled the air, and beneath that was a musty animal smell. Synestryn.

They'd been here.

There were stairs leading up on his left and three doors exiting the entryway.

"His study is to the right," whispered Viviana. He could hear the fear in her voice, the worry. As much as he wanted to comfort her, now was not the time.

Neal peered through the doorway she indicated. Snow had made it bright outside, and some of Neal peered through the doorway she indicated. Snow had made it bright outside, and some of that light streamed in from a window behind a huge desk. A man was slumped over the desk, lying at an odd angle.

Neal hoped the man was just asleep, but he doubted they'd get that lucky.

He stepped inside the door and positioned Viviana with her back to the wall. As he moved, he inadvertently cleared the path for her to see the professor. She let out a frightened gasp and started to move toward him. Neal grabbed her arm and pushed her back. "Stay here. I'll check him out."

"Something's wrong with him, isn't it?"

Neal didn't reply. He crept forward, keeping his eyes open for signs of movement. Some of the Synestryn were small and he didn't want any of them getting near Viviana.

A cold tendrill of wind wrapped around Neal's legs, and as he stepped forward, he could see the window had been broken out, leaving a gaping, bloody hole. He could also see that the bottom half of the professor's body was missing. The top half was lying on the desk and blood dripped down onto the leather office chair.

"Oh God," breathed Viviana. She was right next to him now, staring in horror at her friend's remains. She stepped forward, but Neal caught her before she could get too close.

"There's nothing you can do for him. We need to get the gadget and go." Before the Synestryn found them, too. "Where would he have kept it?"

Her eyes were brimming with tears, and the tendons in her neck were standing out as she struggled not to cry. "We need to call the police. Find the person who did this."

"It wasn't a person. It was a demon, like those that came for you tonight. If we call the police, chances are we'll just get them killed, too. We need to focus."

She was staring at the body, her eyes wide, her chin quivering.

Neal moved to block out the sight of her dead friend. He cupped her face in his hands and tilted it up to look at him. Her skin was so soft and warm under his fingers. He felt delicate sparks of energy jumping from him into her, making his palms tingle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wish we'd gotten here sooner."

"He was a sweet old man. Why would anyone do this?"

Good question. Clearly the man wasn't blooded, or they'd have taken the whole body and not left a pooll of blood lying wasted on the floor. Synestryn fed on traces of ancient blood running through certain humans. They used it to fuel their magic, but this man hadn't been kill ed for that, which left only one reason. "He had something they wanted."

"The artifact he was studying for me?"

Neal figured it would crush her to think she'd been the cause of her friend's death. "We can't know for sure. What I do know is that we need to find it."

She sniffed and nodded. Her eyes closed and he felt the strangest sensation vibrate in the air between them. It was almost as if she were pulling on those sparks he kept giving off—like they were iron filings and she was a magnet.

A moment later, the feeling subsided and she opened her eyes. "There were two disks in the box. One of them is still here. Nearby. The other . . ." She shook her head. "It's too far away for me to feel it."

"Feell it?"

Her gaze drifted to the floor as if she were ashamed. "I don't know how it works, but I can feel certain artifacts when they get close. Those disks were like that for me."

That news left Neal reeling. Every female Theronai seemed to have some kind of specialty, but if hers was finding Sentinel artifacts, she was going to be invaluable to them.

Assuming she agreed to become part of their world.

He couldn't forget that other women like her had balked at the notion of leaving their human world behind. Viviana had already been through a lot tonight. He couldn't push her, no matter how much the need to do so burned in him.

Right now, when he was touching her like this, and the pain was gone, it was easy to be patient.

But as soon as he had to let go, and that mountain of pain came crashing down on top of him again, patience was a lot scarcer.

He couldn't force her to accept his luceria. It had to be her choice, and lingering here in the room with the body of her dead friend was not the way to convince her to make the right one.

"I don't want you to watch," he told her. He was going to have to move the body and he didn't want her seeing anything . . . upsetting.

She gave a tight nod and turned around, pulling from his grasp.

Neal clenched his muscles, readying himself for the agony he knew was only a heartbeat away.

He tried to prepare himself for it, but there was no preparing for the seething weight that bore down on him, crushing the air from his lungs.

A high, strangled sound hissed through his teeth, and he reeled inside the grip of that pain, powerless to stop it from tearing him apart.

Long seconds later, he was sweating and shaking, but at least his vision began to return.

If anything had happened during that moment of incapacitation—if the Synestryn had attacked—there wouldn't have been a thing he could have done to stop it. He would have been unable to protect Viviana.

And that thought was the one that changed his mind about patience. He had to convince her to take his luceria and end his pain. Tonight. It was the only way he could ensure that she stayed safe.

But not here. Not in this house. He couldn't do that to her.

Neal made quick work of searching the professor's desk for the disk. When he didn't find it, he moved to the man's pockets, and there, deep inside the pocket of his sweater, lay the cold, metal, palm-size disk.

He shoved it into his jeans pocket and eased the man's remains to the floor. He grabbed a crocheted throw from the back of a nearby recliner and draped it over his body.

"Time to go," he said, grabbing Viviana's arm with his clean hand as he left the room.

"Did you find anything?"

"Yes." He ducked into a bathroom he found down the hall and washed the blood from his hand, keeping the light off so she didn't have to see the mess. "You said you can sense these objects?"

"If they're close."

He hurried them out the front door, keeping a grip on her arm so she wouldn't slip. "How close?"

"I can usually tell whenever one of them comes into the city."

He had to find that second disk. From what little Gilda had told him, he didn't think the gadget would heal without both halves, and Torr was running out of time. "Do you have any sense of direction as to where the second disk went?"

"I don't know. I have to concentrate," said Viviana.

"Got it."

They got in his truck and he fired up the engine and drove back down the gravel driveway.

"Where are we going?"

"Just warming up the engine so we can get some heat," he lied. Truth was he didn't want any nosy neighbors to see his truck and report it to the police when they eventually found the professor's body. With any luck, the truck's tire tracks would be filled in with snow before anyone else knew of the professor's death.

Neal drove a few miles and pulled into the entrance to some farmland. A snow-covered chain barred his path, but for now, this was as good a place as any to stop. It was nice and open around them, giving him a clear view if any monsters headed their way.

"Okay. Do your thing," he said.

Her body was rigid in the seat, and he could see shiny streaks where her tears of grief had finally fallen.

Neal wanted to pull her into his arms and offer some kind of comfort, but he didn't dare. He still felt battered from the previous time he'd stopped touching her bare skin, and he wasn't sure how much more punishment he could take. If the pain did eventually kill him, she'd be left unprotected.

Viviana closed her eyes, squeezing out more tears. Seeing her cry damn near broke his heart, but there was nothing he could do to bring back her friend. He didn't even have a freakin' tissue to give her. The only things he had to offer were a strong sword arm and his desperation for her to save him. It made him a needy bastard, but there wasn't much he could do about that.

A few seconds later, she let out a disheartened sigh. "I can't feel it. It's too far away. I'm sorry."

Her eyes started tearing up again, and Neal couldn't stand it any longer.

He slid across the seat and gathered her in his arms. She tucked her head against his shoulder, melting into him. Her fingers clenched in his shirt and he could feel the tremors of her grief tumbling through her. "It's okay, sweetheart. Don't worry. We'll figure something out."

"I killed him. I gave him that artifact and it brought those things here."

"We don't know that's what happened."

"Don't patronize me. That's exactly what happened. And now I can't even find the artifact they stole."

Neal hesitated only a moment before he made up his mind. Sure, she knew little about his world or who she really was. And no, she didn't know about what he was going to ask her to do or what it might cost her. But what he did know was that the luceria thought they belonged together, and after seeing the happy matches his Theronai brothers had made, he wasn't going to question the gift that was being offered to him. He was going to grab it with both hands and hold on as tight as he could.

Viviana was meant to be his, and he was going to make it happen.

"I can help you with that," he offered. "I've known women like you before who had powers and I know how to amplify them. Make them stronger."

She pulled away enough to look into his eyes. "How?"

And here was the tricky part. He fished the humming band of the luceria out from under his shirt to show it to her. "All you have to do is wear my luceria."

Chapter Five

Viviana was weighed down by the loss of her friend, but even through the foggy haze of grief, she could tell Neal was hiding something from her. "It's magic, isn't it? Like the disks?"

Neal nodded, his dark eyes glittering with hope.

"What does it do?"

"The luceria is two parts of a whole. We each wear one. It will connect us and allow you to tap into the stores of power inside me. You can use that power to fuel your ability, which will amplify it."

"You think that if I wear that necklace, I'll be able to sense where the second disk went?"

"I do."

That artifact had caused enough pain and suffering. She needed to find it and put it where no one could ever get hurt again.

She held out her hand. "Give me the necklace."

"That's not the way it works. You have to take it off me."

Viviana's hand shook as she reached for the luminescent band. The swirling display of earth tones intensified the closer her hand got. Of all the Sentinel artifacts she'd seen over the years, this one was the most intriguing. It felt . . . alive. She could almost feel some kind of intelligence working within it.

She slid one finger under the band, enjoying the supple warmth and the slippery texture. A flowing plume of bronze spiraled out from her finger and it seemed to heat. It was going to feel so nice against her skin and look so pretty around her neck.

The band broke open and slipped down beneath Neal's shirt. He pulled it out and took the loose ends in his blunt fingertips. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Viviana nodded. She wanted to know what it felt like to wear something so beautiful and magical, even if it was only for a little while.

Neal reached around her neck and she heard a subtle click as the ends locked shut.

He leaned back, his eyes fixed on the band. His voice was a reverent whisper. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. I don't want to mess it up or scare you."

"Why would you scare me?"

"I'm going to cut myself a little now and offer you my promise."

Confusion swept over her as she watched him strip off his shirt. "Cut yourself? Why?"

"It's the only way to finish the process of connecting us." He drew his sword, making it appear.

He sliced a shallow cut over his heart with the edge of the blade. "My life for yours," he said, then gathered a drop of blood on his fingertip and pressed it against the necklace. "You have to give me a promise of your own now to complete the process."

"I don't understand."

"I know. I'm rushing you. I didn't want to, but I can't seem to stop myself," he said. "Just follow your instincts."

A promise? She had no idea what kind of promise he wanted, but she could sense the magic of what they were doing surrounding her. With the snow falling outside, there was a hushed kind of reverence in his actions, the quality of an ancient ceremony. She really didn't want to ruin that. "I promise to help you find the artifact and put it somewhere safe so that no one else can get hurt."

She saw disappointment flash across Neal's face a second before the band around her neck shrank until it fit close to her skin. Her vision wavered until the confines of the truck disappeared and she was suddenly somewhere else. Overlooking a valley. It was dark—the kind of dark one found only well outside the light pollution of cities. There was an old log home nestled below. It was a tiny, one-room structure with smoke billowing up from its chimney. There were no security lights, no propane tanks, no vehicles. It appeared to be a scene from sometime long ago, though she couldn't imagine how that was possible.

A few yards away, a small barn sat huddled against the roaring wind. The prairie grass was brown, the trees bare. She could smellspring on the wind, but it had yet to take hold of the land.

A man on horseback was on the opposite hill side, outlined against the starry night sky. The sword in his hand reflected moonlight as he sat there, still and silent. The horse beneath him quivered, as if sensing danger. She had no idea what he was doing out here in the cold when there was a safe, comfy cabin not far away.

She opened her mouth to shout at him to get inside, but nothing came out. Wherever she was, she had no body. She was simply a presence hovering in the night sky.

The man turned his head and the moonlight fell over his features.

Neal. The man standing in what looked like a scene from the long-dead past was the same man sitting next to her in the truck.

Viviana struggled to make sense of that, but like a dream, there was no logic to be found.

From the hill top to her right, she saw several low shapes slink forward. An eerie howl split the air, making the wind seem quiet in comparison. The horse stomped nervously for a moment before Neal spurred it forward.

The shapes rose up, solidifying into the form of those things that had attacked her earlier tonight. Neal charged them. The first sgath leaped into the air, lunging for Neal's throat. Instead, it was his blade that hit, and the monster flew past him in two spinning pieces.

Two more of the sgath attacked, and Neal cut down each one with the same competent efficiency. Never once did he do anything showy. Every movement was smooth and easy, with no wasted effort. The lethality of his grace stunned Viviana even after she'd seen it before.

Neal wiped his blade clean on the dead grass, remounted his horse, and rode away.

Below in the valley, the door to the cabin opened. An old, bent woman stood there for a moment, staring in confusion into the darkness. She never saw Neal or the threat he'd eliminated.

Viviana's vision wavered again, as another battle was shown to her. Then another, and another.

In each one, she saw signs of different eras, different times and places—none of which Neal was old enough to have lived in, and yet there he was. He fought off dark, terrifying monsters for people who didn't even realize he existed. He never once asked for thanks or praise for his deeds; he simply left when the job was done.

When the interior of the truck finally came back into focus, Viviana was exhausted. She felt like she'd been gone for years and was just now coming back home.

Neal was staring at her with the oddest look on his face. It was part sympathy and part pride, and she wondered if he was upset by what she'd seen.

"What was that?" she asked.

"The luceria shows us pieces of each other—things it thinks we need to know to help us grow closer and speed up the bonding process."

"What bonding process? You never said anything about that."

"It's how we connect. It's how you reach my power. The luceria makes that connection possible, but the amount of power that can flow between us is directly related to how much we trust each other."

"And those visions of you fighting monsters were supposed to make me trust you?"

"Did it work?"

In an odd way, it did, but no more so than seeing him fight for her life earlier tonight. It was something else that pulled her in—the part where he seemed to have visited other times. "I thought I saw you a long, long time ago."

"You did."

"How? Does your magic allow you to travel through time?"

"No. I've lived a long time." He smiled, and it made her insides quiver in response. "Just like those artifacts you like to collect."

"How long?"

"I've lost count. Four hundred fifty-something years now, I guess."

"You guess?"

He shrugged, drawing her attention to his bare shoulder. Even that small movement caused delicious muscles to ripple beneath his skin. "It stops mattering after a while, though I may start counting again if things with us go the way I hope."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you don't have to be alone anymore. You don't have to feel like you don't fit in. You're one of us now."

Viviana's insides iced over with worry. "What did you see?"

"You. Alone. All your life. You've always set yourself apart from other people because you knew you weren't like them."

Humiliation stiffened her spine. "You had no right prying into my past like that."

"Sorry, sweetheart. That's the way it works. You got to do the same with me."

"I don't like it."

He took her hand and flattened it against his bare chest. His skin was hot and tight over hard muscles. Streaming sparks flowed into her, making her dizzy.

"You like that," he said with complete confidence. "And I like not hurting anymore. Thank you."

"Don't get used to it. If this luceria lets you pry into my private life, it's coming off."

"Not until we find the gadget. You promised. Besides, by then I hope to change your mind."

"About what?"

"Taking it off." He leaned forward, a hot smile on his lips. "If I have my way, you'll never take it off again."

Shock rattled through her and she sat silent for a moment, trying to make sense of his words. "I don't understand."

"I know. That's my fault, but I'll spell it out for you. You saved my life by putting on my luceria.

Before I met you, I was dying. The power inside me was killing me slowly. And now I'm fine. I've also seen inside you. I've seen how gentle and caring you are, how driven you can be. You are everything I've ever hoped for in a partner, and if I get half a chance, I'm not going to let you go. Ever."

"You need to stop right there. I don't even know you and you're talking about us being together?"

"In ways you have probably never imagined."

Her face heated, as did the rest of her. "I only said I'd help you find the artifact."

"I know. I'm counting on my powers of persuasion to change your mind."

She opened her mouth to ask him what kind of powers when a wave of something hot and delicious slid into her skin, emanating from the luceria. It floated down her body, making her grow languid and needy as it passed.

Neal speared his fingers through her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. He didn't touch her, but he was close enough that she could feel energy sparking between them.

"I'm playing dirty," he told her, "but I need you too much to let it stop me. We're meant to be together. The luceria knows it. I know it. So will you."

He kissed her then, and she didn't even think to try to stop him. His mouth felt too good on hers.

Too right. Her whole body quivered in excitement at his touch, and wherever his bare skin touched hers, heady streams of power raced into her, making her feel more whole and alive than she ever had before.

In this moment, she was swept away, ready and eager to go along with whatever insane plan he had. Let him think they were destined to be together. What did she care? As long as he kept had. Let him think they were destined to be together. What did she care? As long as he kept kissing her, he could be as crazy as he liked.

A deep howl cut through the cold December air.

Neal stiffened and pulled back with a caustic curse. "Fuck. My blood. They can smellit."

He moved to his side of the truck, leaving Viviana feeling cold and alone. She didn't like it. She wanted back that feeling he gave her—that sense of belonging, of being needed. It took every ounce of her will power to stay put rather than slide over the seat so she could cling to him.

She was not a needy woman. She did not cling.

He slammed the truck in gear and pulled back out onto the snowy road. "I'm sorry, sweetheart.

You're so damn sexy, you go to my head. I should have known better than to stay put after cutting myself."

Viviana cleared her throat and fastened her seat belt to give her head time to clear. "I'm not sexy. I never have been. I'm tidy. Neat."

He shot her a grin full of heated promise. "You won't be when I get done with you."

"I am not going to have sex with you."

"No?" He didn't sound convinced. Or concerned.

"No. I don't know you."

"You will. Count on it."

Chapter Six

Neal told himself to back down. He was coming on way too strong. The connection the luceria had forged between them had already grown enough for him to sense Viviana's anxiety.

"You're quite full of yourself, aren't you?" she asked.

He bit his tongue to hold back a comment about how he'd rather she be the one full of him. That was way too crass for his sweet Viviana.

His.

Neal was already in trouble, already feeling way too possessive. She wasn't ready for that. Hell, for all he knew she never would be. He needed to calm the hell down before he screwed up his one chance to keep breathing.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sorry." He guessed he was going to have to get used to saying those last two words a lot—assuming she stuck with him long enough to let it happen.

"Where are we going?"

"A safe house. I need to clean up." He looked down at his chest. The wound had already healed, but the blood was still there, drawing every Synestryn for miles, no doubt.

"You said they can smellyour blood."

"Yep. I need to wash it off ASAP."

There was a nervous lilt to her voice. "What about my blood? Can they smell that, too?"

"Absolutely."

"I cut myself earlier tonight. On the glass. That's why they came, isn't it?"

The thought of her being hurt made his stomach twist in a combination of anger and pain. "Let me see."

She ripped off a small bandage and held up her hand. A short, shallow cut crossed her palm—little more than a paper cut.

"Did it bleed?"

"A little."

"Toss the bandage out the window."

She did, letting in a cold gust of wind. Without his shirt on, he felt every degree in the drop of temperature.

"Will that work?" she asked.

"Not with me in the car, but I don't want you walking around with blood on you."

The next thing he knew, she was kneeling on the seat beside him, using one of those white cotton gloves to wipe away the blood on his chest.

"You're already healed."

"I heal fast. It's necessary for the job."

She made quick work of cleaning him up, her movements efficient and matter-of-fact. "Job?"

"Killing Synestryn. Protecting humans."

She brought the glove to her mouth and wet a spot to scrub away the dried blood. Then, as if she realized what she'd done, she stammered, "I-I'm sorry. I should never have put my saliva on you without permission."

Neal stifled a laugh. She was so prim and proper. "Honey, the way we kissed, I'd say it's a bit late to worry about that. Hell, I've fantasized about things involving your mouth that would make you blush."

And just like that, she did, and quickly changed the subject. "You called those things that attacked tonight sgath."

"Sgath are one type of Synestryn. There are lots. All butt-ugly. All deadly."

She finished the job, went back to her side of the truck, and the cotton glove went out the window. "And you fight them."

"Nearly every night."

"What would I do? I mean, someone who planned to continue her association with you?"

That made Neal grin. "Association? Sounds like our names should be on a business card together. You think that's what we have going here?"

"I don't know what to call it, and you shouldn't make fun. I've been through quite a bit of stress tonight."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. You sure have. I should be more understanding."

Silence greeted him and he left her alone. She did have a lot to digest. It was barely past midnight. He'd met her eight hours ago and in that time, she'd been attacked, lost a friend, and joined herself to Neal in a way she couldn't possibly understand.

But he did. He knew what her commitment meant to him and what it would mean if she decided to walk away. still, even the fear of dying couldn't stop him from celebrating what he had now.

He was fulfilling his purpose in life. He was united with a woman who could wield his power—one he was sworn to protect so she could blow away the demons that plagued Earth. Together they would be unstoppable. And not just on the battlefield.

The brief glimpse he'd had of her life still haunted him. Even though her adoptive mother had loved and cherished Viviana, she'd still felt alone. It was as if she knew she was part of something bigger than herself. She'd tried to fit in as a child, and as an adult, she'd found people who accepted her for her quirks. But it had never been enough.

Neal didn't just accept her; he reveled in her. Everything about her was fascinating—from the prim bun she wore down to those naughty stockings under her skirt. Her love for ancient Sentinel artifacts only added to her appeal.

He wanted to be part of her collection. A permanent part.

As much as he hated feeling needy and demanding, there was nothing he could do to stop himself. Without her, he would die. No matter what it took, he was going to spend what little time they had before they found the gadget convincing her that he was the kind of man worth keeping.

She was quiet as they drove. Every few minutes, he could feel a subtle tug on his power, as if she were testing the waters. Knowing that if he said anything, it would only discourage her, he kept quiet, pretending he didn't know what she was doing.

Slowly, her attempts became bolder. More power flowed between them, easing the crushing pressure inside Neal. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good.

Despite how much he needed her, despite how much he wanted her, the need to protect her tender feelings rose above all else. He promised himself he wouldn't push her for more. At least, not yet. Let her discover her newfound power on her own so she wouldn't balk at accepting it.

Two hours later, Neal was regretting his decision to let her find her own way. He kept getting glimpses of her—little fleeting images of things she felt and wanted.

He was at the top of the list. As proper as his Viviana seemed, she was all hot, passionate woman beneath that prim exterior. She kept having fantasies of her hands on his bare skin, stroking his lifemark. Every few minutes she'd glance his way and get caught up staring.

Apparently, she liked the way he looked, which worked for him. He'd never really paid much attention to the texture of his skin or the play of shadow over his muscles, but she did. And seeing that through her eyes—the way it turned her on—was making it hard for him to keep his hands on the wheel.

All he could think about was how good it felt to slide his hands up her thighs until the smooth skin above those stockings greeted him.

By the time they pulled into the driveway of the Gerai house, Neal was shaking with lust. He was careful to keep it from her—block her from sensing his thoughts—though he knew that worked against his need to bind them together. She wasn't ready for his desire yet. She was still dealing with too much. It would be unfair of him to ask her for more when she'd already given him more than he'd ever hoped to have.

Neal pulled his shirt back on before braving the cold. He found a key tucked behind the porch light and let them into the small farmhouse.

The air inside was chilly, but all the makings for a fire were laid and ready to go. Neal made quick work of getting a nice blaze going before raiding the fridge for food.

"Is this your house?" Viviana asked when he returned with some sandwich fixings.

She was curled up on a corner of the couch nearest the fire. She still wore his leather jacket, which made her look small and vulnerable.

Protective instincts rose up in Neal, and he had to fight the urge to reach for his sword and bare his teeth against an invisible threat.

"No. It's called a Gerai house, named for the group of humans who keep it stocked with food and supplies."

"Gerai?"

"They're blooded humans—humans who have ancient blood running through their veins.

Synestryn will attack them for their blood, so we protect them. In exchange, they help out where they can, like giving us a safe place to rest when we need it."

"So the Synestryn can't get to us here?"

"Oh, no. They can get to us, but it's harder to find us here than in other places, since Gilda has woven some magic that helps shield us here."

"Gilda? Who's she?"

"A powerful Theronai. She and her husband, Angus, have been together for centuries. She's the one who told me about the gadget. She has amazing power."

"And she uses it to protect these Gerai houses?"

"Among other things. But yes, I can sense her touch on this place. Unless we do something to attract attention, we should be safe here."

"That sounds nice."

Neal heard fear wavering in her voice. "I don't want you to be afraid, sweetheart. You're safe with me. I'd give my life to make sure of it."

"I'd rather you didn't. I don't want anyone else to die because of me."

He set the food on the coffee table and sat next to her, taking her hand in his. Her skin was smooth and flawless, unlike his own scarred hands. Her bones were delicate, her limbs breakable. He had no idea how he was going to keep her safe long enough for her to learn to wield his power, but he knew he'd do whatever it took to make that happen.

Neal made sure she was looking in his eyes. He couldn't stand knowing she was being eaten up by guilt. "The professor didn't die because of you. You have to believe that."

"Would those things have come for him if I hadn't given him the artifact?"

"How many people have you allowed to study your collection?"

"Several."

"Were they attacked?"

"No."

"Then there was no way for you to know what would happen. You can't blame yourself for the evil of another. All you can do is use the power you now have to stop them from doing it again."

"Is that what you do?"

He shook his head. "I can't do a lot with magic. I can use a little bit, but nothing compared to you.

The best I can do is cut them down."

"You're good at that."

"Nice of you to notice."

She was silent for a long moment. "What's it like living in your world?"

"Normal. It's all I've ever known."

"Killing monsters and fighting demons is normal? I don't think I could ever get used to that."

"There's more to being a Theronai than killing. We have a home where we take care of humans—orphaned children, mostly. We're helping rebuild a stronghold in Africa that was destroyed. And we stand guard over the Gate."

"Gate?"

"To Athanasia, the place where our magic originated. Chances are good your father was from there."

"Where is it?"

Neal shrugged. "Another planet, I guess. I never really worried much about the details. I fought when I needed to, protected when I needed to, and in the meantime, I spent every second looking for you."

She scoffed at that. "That's hard to believe."

"It's true. I mean, I didn't know your name, but I hoped you were out there. And here you are. My own personal miracle."

"You make it sound so easy—like you already know how things will end."

"I've had over four hundred years of watching unions between our people. They're not all easy, but the luceria picked you to be with me for a reason. I know enough to trust that and let the rest work itself out."

She looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. Neal let it drop, refusing to cause her any more upset tonight. There would be time for her to come around. He could be patient.

"Would you like to try to find the gadget?" he asked.

"I think I can feel it. It's faint, but if I concentrate, I might be able to get a stronger impression of its location."

"You do that. The sooner we find it, the sooner I can take you home."

Neal hadn't come on to her. They were alone together in that cozy house, in front of a roaring fire while the wind blew snow all around them, insulating them from the real world. It was the perfect setup for romance and yet Neal hadn't taken advantage of that.

Part of her was disappointed. Her body was humming with a frenetic energy—an achy need to run her hands over him and let him do the same to her. The saner part of her was relieved. Too much had happened tonight and she was having trouble digesting it all.

Neal was a member of an ancient race. So was she. From what he said, they were destined to be partners in a war against evil monsters—ones she didn't even know existed outside of her dusty books.

And yet, as hard as all that was to believe, what she really had trouble believing was the part where he needed her. He was a big, strong, strapping warrior. He didn't appear to need anyone. If she hadn't felt that need through the luceria, she still wouldn't believe it.

He wanted her, and not just for the night. The impressions she got through their swiftly growing connection were ones of permanence. Forever. He wasn't afraid of commitment, like most men she knew. He craved it.

Not that she knew him well enough to agree to that kind of relationship. For now, she was content to stay with him, see how things went. He might not appreciate her caution, but that was too bad. Caution was all he was going to get.

For now.

The thought whispered in her head, summoning images of the two of them together, making love. She could almost feel the power of his big body moving over hers, driving them both higher.

He'd be a demanding lover. She could tell that by his personality. But it was his grace that made her toes curl in longing. A man with that smooth kind of power would drive her crazy. Neal would take her to places she'd never been with a man before, and deep down, she wanted that more than she'd ever wanted any ancient trinket.

Neal came back out of the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her. His jaw was tight and she could see tension straining his body. He pulled in a couple of deep breaths before he managed to speak.

"I heard that," he whispered.

"What?"

"Your thoughts. The things you'd like me to do to you."

She'd been getting brief flashes from his thoughts since putting on the luceria, but had brushed it off as her imagination. The things she'd felt coming from him couldn't be real. No man had ever wanted her like Neal did.

The proof of that want was straining the front of his worn jeans, making her mouth water.

He took a measured step forward. Viviana didn't move. She didn't want to encourage him to do something he wasn't ready for, and yet the thought of him backing away left a deep ache in her chest.

"I'm more than ready," he told her. "You're the one with questions about the two of us. Not me. I already know how I want it to end."

"How?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I want us to love each other. To be happy together. To stand side by side and fight the Synestryn. Forever."

"Forever is a long time."

"Only when you're alone and unhappy."

Like she had been her whole life. Mother had always loved her, but Viviana had never truly fit in elsewhere. She wasn't an outcast, but she often thought that was due to her wealth. People would do a lot to overlook the flaws in others when there was money involved.

She didn't want to be included for her money or her status. She wanted to be wanted for herself.

Neal was offering that to her, and doing so as if he had no idea how precious the gift was.

He held out his hand. The iridescent ring shimmered as it grew closer to her, swirling with the colors of parchment and ancient bronze. "I understand that this is all fast for you, but for me, it's something I've been thinking about for centuries. We can be good together. All you have to do is trust me."

Viviana swallowed. So much had happened tonight. Too much. And yet there wasn't a place on earth she'd rather be than right here. With him.

He called to her on some deep level she'd never even known existed. It was as if she were recognizing a long-lost part of herself.

Whatever this thing was between them, it had a magic all its own, and that alone was too alluring for Viviana to resist.

She put her hand in his and a slow, hot smile curved his mouth a second before he kissed her.

Heat bloomed inside her at his touch, swelling until she was consumed by it. His hands slid over her back, pulling her close enough to feel the hard length of his erection. That empty ache inside her clamored to be filled, and Viviana was no longer willing to ignore it.

"I want you," she told him.

A rough groan vibrated his chest. "I want you, too, but we can't. I have to be careful. If we get too close . . ." He didn't finish what he was saying, but his body shook with tension.

Viviana couldn't resist trying to comfort him. She stroked his arms and petted his chest, feeling his muscles tighten beneath her palms.

He closed his eyes as if seeking self-control and his fingers clenched against her hips. She laid He closed his eyes as if seeking self-control and his fingers clenched against her hips. She laid her head on his shoulder, and she swore she could hear the creak of swaying branches beneath his shirt. The scent of his skin was intoxicating, and despite his hesitance, she couldn't find the strength to back away.

Heated images flittered through her mind, and the rougher edges told her they were coming from Neal. She was naked, laid out for his visual enjoyment. Her hair was loose, shimmering around her head. Her nipples were tight, and her skin seemed to glow. His dark hand was splayed against her chest, and the matching parts of the luceria throbbed in time with each other.

The image shifted. A red wash covered them, and Neal's body was gleaming with sweat as he moved over her, his muscles bunching powerfully with each gliding move. It wasn't real. It was only a vision in her head, but the effect it had on her was much more than mere imagination.

She was hot, aching. Her clothes were suddenly too tight and itchy. She needed to peel them away and rub herself against Neal, feeling his firm, smooth skin against her own. Maybe if she got him naked, he'd give in and make love to her.

She desperately needed that, needed the release only he could give.

Neal let out the groan of a man who knew he'd been bested. "I can't deny you anything, sweetheart. I'll make you come, but we're going to do it my way."

Chapter Seven

Neal was playing a dangerous game here. Already they were bonding faster than he thought possible. Once the swirling colors in the luceria settled, his life was in her hands. For now, once her promise to him was fulfilled, they could go their separate ways, but if the colors solidified and their connection was complete, then if she left him, he'd die.

He had to be careful, slow down the bonding process as much as possible. As much as he loved the idea of the two of them together, he didn't want to tie her to him with guilt. He refused to allow her to stay with him because he was dead without her. That wasn't fair to either of them.

So he'd find the strength to resist taking her and thereby speeding up the process. He'd give her what she so clearly needed—he refused to let her suffer—but he'd do it with his jeans firmly in place.

She kissed her way up his throat and over his jaw. Her strong grip on his head forced him to bend down so she could kiss him properly. Her soft mouth opened over his, and her hot tongue slid inside, claiming the space for her own.

Neal stifled a groan and went to work like a man on a mission. The sooner he got her off, the better. He didn't know how long he could resist taking what she so clearly wanted to give.

He wasted no time undoing all the fussy little buttons down the front of her blouse. White lace cupped her breasts, but did nothing to hide her stiff nipples. He bent his head and suckled her through the delicate fabric while he made quick work of the hooks on her bra.

Her soft sound of pleasure filled the air, and her fingers speared through his hair, holding him in place.

Her skirt took only seconds to undo and it slithered down her thighs. Her soft lace panties followed in her skirt's wake, leaving her wearing only her stockings. Those were definitely staying on.

He pulled the bra from her arms and fought her grip long enough to pull back and get a good look.

Viviana was breathtaking. Sweet, slender curves. Gentle shadows cast by the firelight. Delicate bones, womanly hollows. Every inch of her was perfect.

He'd never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted her right now.

His blood was pounding through his body, demanding that he stake a claim. He could smellher arousal, see the flush of lust darkening her skin. She wanted it as much as he did.

He stared for so long, he began to feel her pull away, her heat evaporating into an awkward kind of shyness.

She covered her breasts with one arm, her mound with her hand. Hiding herself from him.

A primal anger rose up in him so strong and fast he couldn't control it. He took an aggressive step forward, pushing her back against the couch. She stumbled, flailing her arms to catch her balance.

Neal grabbed her arms, easing her down. He held them away from her body, letting the satisfaction of seeing her again quiet that primal beast. "Don't hide from me," he managed to grate out. "Not ever."

He stripped off his shirt, and then pressed her back against the seat, feeling the velvet rub of her sweet little nipples on his skin.

Viviana let out a soft gasp and dug her nails into his back.

Heat and need flared inside him, blinding him for a moment. But he was touching her skin, and that was enough for now. He'd look at her again when he had her spread out so he could feast on her and make her come with his mouth. He'd take his time looking, enjoying the way perspiration beaded on her skin, and the way she writhed as he held her hips in place.

His lifemark swayed, reveling in the contact of flesh on flesh. His ring hummed happily, urging him to finish what he'd started.

Neal reached between them, parting her damp curls. She was slick and hot, and just the slightest brush of his fingertip over her clit made her lurch beneath him and let out a sharp cry.

He pressed a finger inside her slick body. The tight clench of her muscles around him made him grit his teeth for control. She quivered, pivoting her hips to give him a better angle. She was small, but he could handle that. He'd stretch her gently so when he took her she'd feel only pleasure.

Except that he wasn't going to take her. He was just here to get her off. That was the deal he'd made with himself.

Even as he cursed his decision, he manned up and stood by it, turning his force of will on her body and on how to make it sing.

Viviana wasn't a shy lover. She told him with sounds and small, quivering movements what kinds of touches she liked, and which ones drove her wild. His prim, proper scholar was spread out before him, panting and shaking while he sucked on her clit and pressed two thick fingers inside her. He toyed with her nipples, pinching gently and not so gently in time with his penetrating fingers.

Her breathing caught. Her abdomen quivered. Neal added a third finger and used his teeth to send her over the edge.

She let out a sweet moan and bucked beneath him as her orgasm overcame her.

Neal had never witnessed anything so beautiful in his long, long life.

As her tremors subsided, she pulled him up her body with weak arms and kissed him. She was still shaking, or maybe that was him. He couldn't tell anymore. All he knew was that he was teetering on the edge of driving his cock into her slick, relaxed body deeper than his fingers had a chance of going.

Her hands fumbled at his belt, working it free faster than his blood-starved brain had time to figure out what she was doing. Her slender fingers worked inside his jeans, wrapping around his cock.

Even that was nearly enough to make him come. Only the worry that she'd feel used kept him from letting go and spurting his seed all over her fingers.

He tried to pull away, but he couldn't go far without fear of breaking her arm. "Stop."

She nibbled at his neck, right where the luceria used to lie. His skin was sensitive there, having been starved of touch since his birth. The erotic scrape of her teeth sent zings of sensation down his spine, straight into his balls.

He gasped and gulped for air, trying to gain some thread of control.

By the time he realized what she'd done, his pants were already open and she was pulling his cock toward her core. Her legs were spread wide in welcome, and her wet heat slid against the head of his cock, mixing with his own fluids.

A rough groan shook him. He couldn't pull away. The best he could do was hold still and pray for control.

Viviana grabbed his ass and pulled him forward while she lifted her hips, taking just the tip of his erection within her body.

Glorious tight heat surrounded him, driving away all thoughts but one. He was going to finish what she'd started. And then some.

He drove forward in one smooth stroke, forcing her to take all of him. She pulled in a startled breath and her fingernails bit deep. It only made him want more.

He knew he wouldn't last long. He could feel her trying to reassure him through their link that it was okay, but he ignored it. He didn't want the shallow fulfillment of shooting his load without her.

When he came, she was going to be screaming his name in climax while he filled her. That was the only thing that would satisfy this primal need.

Neal took advantage of their connection, opening himself up for her to feel everything he did. He knew what he did was dangerous—that he could be speeding his own demise—but he couldn't help it. He craved that connection, needed it like he needed to breathe.

He let her see herself as he did: beautiful and sexy as hell. He let her feel his consuming need to make her come. He forced her to feel the lust clawing inside him, demanding that he stake a claim on her in every way possible.

Her eyes grew wide and her pupils expanded as she looked at him. Her lips were parted, sucking in great gasps of air as he worked them both toward a fast, hard climax.

It swept over Neal, surprising him in its intensity. In the vague recesses of his mind, he realized he was feeling her come as well, the two orgasms mingling together into one. Sensation sizzled through their connection as his balls drew up close and his seed pumped deep within her trembling body.

She shook beneath him, her slender frame so delicate and fragile under his weight. He didn't want to crush her, but he felt her need for him to stay connected to her.

He was still hard. He could stay inside her as long as she wanted. Whatever she needed, he'd find a way to make it hers. For as long as he lived.

Their connection had definitely deepened because of his lack of control. Not that he could bring himself to regret it. He could never regret being with her like this.

He rolled so she was lying atop him, straddling his hips. She nestled her head against his chest while their breathing slowed and the air cooled their bodies. Her fingers traced the branches of his lifemark.

"The leaves are growing back," she said. "There are little buds now."

Bittersweet happiness filled him. She'd saved him, but for how long?

She pushed up, frowning down at him. "Something's wrong. What is it?"

Her hair was a wreck, her bun askew, and fuzzy strands were sticking out at random angles. It was so cute it made his chest ache when he thought that he wouldn't get to see her look like this again—that this thing they had might be temporary.

Neal forced himself to smile as he felt for the pins holding up her bun. "It's nothing serious. We can worry about it after you find the gadget."

Her hair fell loose over her shoulders, shining and beautiful. His cock pulsed inside her, making her eyes flutter shut.

She gave a soft, sexy moan. "I'm not sure if I can go another round."

"I'm more than happy to find out," he said.

"Don't we need to get moving?"

Neal nodded, hating the truth. "Yeah. We do."

"I can feel it now," she said, grinning with pride. "The artifact. My ability seems to be stronger somehow."

"We're more tightly linked now." Thanks to his lack of control. "You have greater access to my power."

"Does that mean that if we don't find it, we can do that again?"

If they didn't find the gadget, she'd remain linked to him, which would almost certainly result in more fabulous sex. "It does."

"And if I do find it?"

She'd be free of the luceria, free of him, able to do as she chose. Whether or not she slept with him again would depend heavily on whether or not he lived to see it happen. "Guess we'll have to play that one by ear."

Chapter Eight

"There," said Viviana, pointing at a truck-size entrance in the limestone rock face. "The disk is in there."

They were outside an industrial complex built inside a system of caves at the edge of Kansas City.

"Are you sure?" asked Neal as he drove into the main entrance.

Inside, truck-size, man-made tunnels looped around a series of businesses—everything from a granite counter-top manufacturer to a wholesale craft-supply company. The rock walls had been painted white, but were dingy from dust and car exhaust.

"I'm sure," she said. "A few yards that way." She pointed to the right. The new leather of the jacket he'd found for her at the Gerai house gleamed in the dim light. Like his own jacket, the one she wore had been imbued with protective magic. Even so, it still wasn't enough protection to make him feel good about her walking into danger.

Neal turned right and pulled into a parking spot indicated by chipped paint. He killed the engine and shifted to face her.

Dim light poured across her cheek, accenting her regal beauty. She was too delicate for what he was asking of her. Too inexperienced. "Maybe you should stay here. You don't need to come with me."

"How will you find the artifact if I don't?"

"I'll manage." Or he'd fail to find it and she'd be tied to him much longer. He didn't really want her to stay with him because of a technicality, but he didn't want to lose her, either. They hadn't been together long enough for him to prove to her that he was a good man, that he'd always take care of her. That he'd always love her.

And he did love her. He loved everything about her. He'd seen pieces of her mind, felt the warmth of her heart. She was brave and selfless and willing to walk into the jaws of danger for him.

How could he not love her?

The amazing part was knowing that if they survived, that love would only grow over time. Such a thought was humbling.

Neal cupped her cheek, loving the smooth warmth of her skin. "you'll be safer here."

"I know what I'm supposed to become—that I'm to use your power to slay the monsters. I never thought you'd be the kind of man to hold me back."

"I'm not. I trust that you'll learn to wield my power; I'm just nervous about your doing so outside of a training environment."

She covered his hand, leaning into his touch. "If I go, we'll find it faster and you can get out faster. If I don't go, I'll be sitting here making myself sick with worry over you and fear that something nasty will slink out of a shadow. I need to do this."

Neal nodded, his respect for her growing. "I understand. I've always felt the calling, too. You're one of us, sweetheart."

He leaned forward and kissed her, savoring the softness of her lips and the sweet taste of her mouth. He could live forever and never get enough of her.

He prayed she'd give him the chance.

Neal pulled back. "We need to go."

"Lead on."

They got out of the truck and headed for an opening that had been cut from the limestone and braced by steel beams. The overhead door had been removed, and based on the way the track was bent beyond use, Neal guessed the door had been ripped away violently. The entrance was blocked by a chain that was draped with a For Lease sign.

Cool air moved over his skin, thanks to the mechanical ventilation system down here.

Behind him were businesses and shops built into the stone. They were all closed at this hour, their parking lots empty and interiors dark. He doubted any of the employees knew they were nestled in among demons.

If he had anything to say about it, he'd take care of their infestation and leave them none the wiser.

He glanced at Viviana. "Stay close. On my left."

"Got it. I do not want to be anywhere near that sword when you start swinging it."

"If things get hairy, you run. Keys are in the truck."

He could see her trembling, but she gave a brave nod. "It won't come to that."

Not while he drew breath, it wouldn't. He didn't think she'd be comforted by that fact, so he kept his mouth shut.

"I heard that thought. You're not going to die. I won't allow it."

He couldn't help but smile. She was cute when she gave orders. "Yes, ma'am."

They passed through the entrance, and the smellof wet animal assaulted his nose. It was dark, so he channeled a few sparks of energy to his eyes, using their link to show Viviana how to do the same.

She pulled in a startled breath. "Amazing."

The floor had once been smooth, but was now cracked and pitted. Abandoned metal racks meant to hold pallet loads of goods leaned precariously against one wall. Crooked light fixtures sagged from electrical conduits along the ceiling. A rusted forklift covered in dust and cobwebs sat to their left, tossed on its side, and the remains of a small office stood behind a cracked glass window.

Whatever had happened here had been unexpected and brutal.

There were two tall doorways leading deeper into the network of caves. "Which one do we take?" asked Neal.

"Right."

Neal headed toward it, listening for sounds of movement. His sword was in one hand, ready to strike at anything that got near her.

"It's close," she said.

A second later, she opened herself up to their connection, and Neal felt what she did. A resonant hum came from beyond the doorway, almost tangible in its intensity. He could practically see the sound waves emanating out from the disk, reverberating with the magic the object housed.

He opened his mouth to tell her how amazing that was when he heard a scuffling noise to their right, inside the room where the gadget was.

Viviana gasped in fear. Neal gripped his sword in both hands and stepped between the noise and her. "Easy," he whispered. "I've got you covered."

Some of the terror streaking through their link abated and he heard her let out a controlled breath. Power flowed out of him, and though he had no idea what she was doing with it, the feeling gave him a sense of pride. Of rightness.

"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that."

A second later, a flurry of motion exploded from the room as four sgath charged.

Power filled Viviana. It flowed through her veins and seeped between her cells until she was vibrating with it. She sucked it into herself, reveling in the ease with which it poured from Neal into her.

Pressure built within her until she felt like her ribs would burst under the strain. She had to let it out—get rid of the energy before it killed her.

Neal had told her she could wield magic, but he had no idea where her abilities might lie, other than her obvious talent for finding Sentinel artifacts. Unfortunately, neither did she, and it was swiftly becoming too late for thought.

A few feet away, Neal fought the monsters that had charged them. She could sense his need to keep them all occupied and away from her, but there were four of them and only one of him.

In a blur of smooth motion, he lopped the forepaw from one of the beasts as it attacked. Its blood spattered across Neal's arm, singeing his leather jacket. The thing howled in pain and fell back, lapping at its wound.

Two more surged forward to take its place, but one ignored Neal and looked right at her. Its Mr. Yuck green eyes flared with a hungry light and it sprang forward, jaws open.

A vibrant pulse pounded against the inside of her skull, nearly blinding her. Viviana gathered a ball of power and flung it out at the sgath.

Its body spun in midair, and it let out a pained snarl. It landed hard, skidding over the cracked floor before its sharp claws slowed it to a stop.

It turned, hackles raised, hissing as it slunk toward her.

She hadn't hurt it. All she'd done was knock it around.

Viviana realized then that she was no match for these things. She wasn't a fighter. She was a bookworm. An intellectual. She had no business wading into battle where brawn and blades were the only things that mattered.

Neal roared and spun in a deadly arc. The head of one of the sgath flew up into the air while its body continued to claw at him for another few seconds.

"Pull it together!" he shouted. "You can do this."

She wasn't convinced, but if she didn't do something, they were both dead.

That was the thought that brought a sense of calm down over her. She would not let Neal die, not when she had the power to stop it at her fingertips.

What she needed was a way to cage the beasts long enough for Neal to kill them—a way to protect him from their attack.

Viviana looked around for something she could use. Steel bars would have been nice, but all she saw was a broken pallet stacked with rotted-out sandbags. If she used her power to shove the pallet against one of the things and pin it to a wall, that might work.

The sgath stalking her circled to her left. Neal was too busy fighting off the others to stop it.

She formed a picture in her mind of what she wanted to do and convinced herself she could make it happen.

One by one, the busted sandbags flew off the pallet, freeing it. Elation filled her as she pulled on more of Neal's power, working faster as the sgath closed the distance.

The last bag split open, spilling sand between the wooden slats. She lifted the pallet into the air, seeing a faint wavering of energy connecting her to it as it moved. She shoved on it hard, sucking in as much energy as her straining body would allow, and hurled it at the beast.

It hit the sgath, slamming it back against the rock wall. The thing snarled and clawed at the wood. Its jaws snapped, sending wooden splinters into the air.

The pallet was swiftly crumbling to uselessness.

Panic sliced at her; then she felt a warm touch brush over her mind. Neal. Even during his own life-threatening battle, he was worried about her.

She could grow to love a man like that if they survived.

Viviana held the disintegrating pallet in place while she looked around for another option. The only thing she saw was dirt, sand, and flimsy metal shelving.

What she wouldn't give to have these sgath dead, stuffed, and behind glass in some museum.

Glass. That was it. She needed to put them behind thick, heavy glass.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, the power flowing through her leaped to obey. Heat shimmered from her, making the air waver. The plastic bags left in the pile of sand melted away, creating a chemical stench.

The sgath bashed through the remains of the pallet and lunged toward her, only to stop short as it neared the searing heat that was now making the sandpile glow a fiery orange.

Energy funneled through her so fast she could feel it chafing her insides. Heat built inside her skin until each breath came out as a puff of steam.

"Too much!" she heard Neal shout somewhere outside her world of heat and pressure. She didn't respond. She couldn't stand to let her focus slip for even a second.

The sand softened, allowing her to shape it into a thick, viscous blob. She kept the heat coming while she sent thick tendrils of molten sand toward the two remaining sgath.

Neal jumped away from the searing heat. She hadn't realized where he'd gone until she felt his cool touch at her nape.

Something changed in that instant. She felt a click, as if a magnet had stuck against her necklace. A heartbeat later, the conduit she'd been using to pull Neal's power into herself opened wide, letting a roar of energy sweep into her.

It was too much. She didn't know how to control it.

She gritted her teeth and concentrated on finishing the job. If she was still alive when that was done, she'd find a way to stop the torrent of power from destroying her.

The molten sand flattened into a plane and shaped itself to cage each sgath inside. The smellof burning hair and the sound of feral screams bounced off the cave walls.

She couldn't breathe. Neither could Neal. Now that she'd taken care of the threat, she realized she'd created another. She'd burned off the oxygen in here.

Black spots flickered in her vision. Behind her, Neal gasped for air.

Viviana cut off the flow of heat, and used the energy seething inside her to push the hot air from the room.

A cold wind swept over them. She sucked it into her lungs as she collapsed to the ground.

Neal eased her down, going right along with her as they crumpled in a heap. His sword clattered against the pitted floor. His arms surrounded her, holding her close. He was saying something against her hair, but she couldn't get her mind to work enough to understand his words.

Across the room, the smoking skeletons of two sgath sat trapped behind grainy, tarry sheets of warped glass.

"Hell of a trick," said Neal. "How about we get the gadget and get you someplace safe?"

"Works for me." She reached out with only a faint wisp of power and saw the artifact glowing in her mind's eye on the floor across the room. It was still inside the carved box, unharmed.

She was too tired to get up, so she pulled it to her. It floated through the air toward them.

"I see you're not having any adjustment issues," said Neal. "You're using my power as if you'd been doing it all your life."

The box landed in her hand, warm to the touch. An instant later, her world went cold, as if all the joy had been sucked from it. Something smooth and warm slid down into her shirt. A high, pained noise of mourning erupted from her. A second later, thick, suffocating darkness fell over her.

THE COLLECTOR

SHANNON K. BUTCHER

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