Sin’s Daughter

The Otherkin Series

Eve Silver

Cursed with immortality, driven into a nomadic life on the fringes of society to escape those who hunt her, Amber Hale has learned the bitter lesson that she can never grow close to anyone. Never love.

Only once did she break her own rules. And her lover, Kai Warin, paid for her mistake with his life. For decades, she’s been numb with grief. Now, confronted by a soul reaper—an agent of one of the most powerful of the Underworld deities—with Kai’s face, she must acknowledge the likelihood that he betrayed her…to the Lord of Evil himself.

Forced into an uneasy alliance and plagued by the unwanted yearning between them, they must work together to elude the dark forces hunting them both…

Prequel to Eve Silver’s Otherkin trilogy.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

—from Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Epilogue

Prologue

The Underworld, the Territory of Sutekh
Fifty years ago

Kai Warin pressed his hands to his chest. Warm. Sticky. Drawing his fingers away, he saw they were covered in blood.

Pain knifed through him, stealing his breath, stealing his thoughts. Then it passed and he was left feeling numb, out of sorts, like he wasn’t really here.

And where was here?

He had a fleeting impression of a sandstone gallery and preternatural silence. Guess he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

He definitely wasn’t on Pfeiffer Beach. The lack of sand and waves and sky gave it away.

Fear bit at him. Not for himself. For Amber. He pictured her, light brown hair tousled by the wind, eyes bright as she looked at him. And then she was gone. Fading like morning mist under the glare of the warming sun.

Was she safe? God, she had to be safe.

The thought brought anger shimmering over him in waves, and for a second, he just stood there, disoriented.

Then he remembered the note—red lipstick on the bathroom mirror. She thought it was a game to do things like that; she liked to surprise him. She’d written two words. Pfeiffer Beach. Their private place. She called it the most beautiful beach in the world. He’d kissed her there for the first time. Weeks later, he’d brought blankets and made love to her there under the stars.

But this time, it hadn’t been Amber there waiting for him. It had been…

He stared at his bloody hand for a long moment. He couldn’t remember.

His head jerked up.

Before him was a set of heavy wooden doors. As he approached, they swung open. Alert, he scanned the area, searching for any hint of movement, any threat. He closed his fist and felt the slippery warmth of his own blood.

Except…he didn’t. He shot a look at his hand. There was no blood. He slapped his palm to his chest and jerked his chin down. Still no blood.

“Come,” a voice bid him, low, commanding.

He stayed where he was, framed in the doorway. The room was in shadow. He could see the outline of a man on what appeared to be a raised dais, and he could smell flowers—

“Lotus blossoms,” the voice clarified in a flat, bored tone.

“What do you want?” Kai asked, cutting to the chase.

Kai scanned the shadows and corners, noting the dual rows of columns that ran the length of the vast space, and through the open doors at the far end of the room, palm trees.

Again, the pain in his chest twisted in knots. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could barely stand. In his mind’s eye, he saw muzzle flashes from at least three weapons. He’d been shot. The memory of lying in the sand with the sound of the waves and the wind, and the star-flecked sky a dark saucer overhead flowed over him, then ebbed, slipping from his grasp.

“Do you understand now?”

“Yes.” He did. He was dead, and this sure as fuck wasn’t heaven. “Amber,” he breathed, far more afraid for her than he was for himself.

“Tell me about your family. Brothers? Sisters?” he’d asked.

He remembered the shadows that clouded her eyes.

“No one,” she’d replied. “My mother and I—” She’d shaken her head then, and he’d had the feeling they were estranged. And she was alone.

“You have me,” he’d said, and offered a cocky smile. “Forever.”

But that had only made the shadows grow darker.

And now he was dead, and he’d left her alone.

“Amber Hale remains Topworld.”

Kai took a second to figure that out. “Topworld. You mean, she’s still alive.”

“Yes.”

“And this is…the Underworld?”

“Yes.” A pause. “You understand that she sent you there. You understand what she did?”

Lipstick on the mirror. She’d sent him to Pfeiffer Beach, but she hadn’t been waiting for him there.

He shook his head but said nothing, not willing to dignify the implied accusation.

“Come,” the voice said again.

“Do I have a choice?” Kai asked, wondering why he wasn’t more afraid.

“There is always a choice. Yours is between eternal life and annihilation.” A pause, then, “Choose wisely.”

Chapter One

San Francisco, California
Present day

They were hunting her. Three of them. Maybe more.

There was little safety here, but there was even less safety out there.

Ramped up on adrenaline, Amber Hale dived across the bed. She pushed up on all fours and crouched on the far side, lifting her gaze to the open bedroom door.

No one there. For the moment.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She dragged the mattress down, tipping it onto its side to form a wall between her and the door. Then she shoved her hand into the hole in the box spring and grabbed the gun. A Taurus Millenium Pro. Light and small, it nestled neatly in her palm.

The thump of the bass and the drums carried up through the floor, through her feet and legs, pounding in time with her runaway pulse. The music was a benefit—and curse—of living above a bar. Free concerts. The good, and the bad. Some nights, she was grateful for the invention of silicone earplugs.

Tonight, she was grateful that the noise meant no one was likely to hear the shots.

Guns weren’t her thing, but she’d long ago learned that needs must when the devil drives. So she practiced regularly. She could hit what she aimed at, and in the event her target was human, she’d be aiming for head or heart.

She shivered. She wasn’t certain that what was about to come through that door was human.

Shoot only if you mean it, and if there is no other choice. The memory hurtled at her, stinging like a stone churned up against a windshield. She remembered the sound of Kai’s voice as he’d said that, and the look in his eyes. All business. It was one of the things that had convinced her that he meant it when he said he loved her, the fact that he’d insisted she learn how to defend herself.

But he hadn’t loved her. He’d betrayed her—

No. Those memories had no place in this moment. Not if she hoped to escape.

Ever since she’d come back to San Francisco, thoughts of Kai had surfaced too often for comfort.

Scuttling back along the hardwood floor, she jammed herself into the corner. The mattress offered a whisper of protection, but it also blocked her sight line. She’d known that, of course, because she’d run this drill dozens of times, just in case. So she’d angled the full-length mirror to give her a perfect view of half the living room and the front door of the apartment.

Both hands circling the butt of the gun, she thumbed off the safety and held her place.

Silver linings, my little love. Look hard enough and you’ll always find one. The words reached across the barrier of time. There had been no silver lining the night Kai died. Only heartbreak and horror and despair. And layered on that, the awareness that he’d sold her out, and she would never know why.

Seconds scraped past, too slow for comfort. Her skin prickled. Her mouth felt like she’d been drinking sand. A part of her just wanted to bolt.

Hunters, her mother had called them. There were at least three of them out there, and they were playing cat and mouse with her.

She was one hell of a clueless mouse.

She’d run right into the trap. She’d ignored her sixth sense. There had been that split second when she’d paused on Market, the streetlights casting the Flat Iron Building bright and almost white against the black of the night sky, the moon full and round. A breathtaking scene.

But that wasn’t the reason she stopped. She’d been wary of the three guys across the street. They had passed her, heading off along Sutter. She’d tracked them and, once they were a block away, dismissed them. Until she’d seen them again in the line to get into the bar below her apartment.

In her dictionary, there was no such thing as happenstance.

She could have turned and run, but they would have chased her. Caught her. Getting upstairs and getting her gun gave her a better chance. They might not realize she’d spotted them, or expect her to be armed.

They hadn’t been looking her way as she’d unlocked the door and headed upstairs, but in her gut, she’d known. They would come, and she’d made herself an easy mark.

It wasn’t the first time she’d slipped up, just the first time in recent memory. After Kai, she’d been so damned careful.

Keeping the gun level now, she eased one hand under the bed and closed her fingers around the straps of the small black knapsack she always kept packed and ready. Change of clothes. Cash. ID. First-aid kit.

There was nothing else in the small apartment that couldn’t be left behind. Time to move forward, move on. She’d stayed too long already.

In fact, she should never have returned to San Francisco. She’d left her heart here once before, and she’d been a sentimental moron to return. There were plenty of cities in this world. From here on out she’d stick to the ones she’d never been to before.

She slid the straps of the backpack over her shoulders, one then the other, keeping a close watch on the front door. She wasn’t trapped. The window to her left was an alternate exit. But, again, it boiled down to witnesses. There could be a guard down there. She wasn’t of a mind to shoot someone while the line of bar patrons snaking along the sidewalk watched.

So she waited, gun in hand, pulse racing, and she hoped to hell she was making the right call.

They took so long that she almost allowed herself to hope that they weren’t coming. Then, in the mirror, she watched as the apartment door vibrated and bulged inward. Her stomach turned a sickening roll. The door flew open, the old wood around the lock splintering under repeated impact, the screws of the double chains she’d installed pulling free. The accompanying crash was all but obliterated by the truly lousy rendition of “Devil Inside” carrying up from below.

She could barely breathe. Her chest felt like it had a metal band around it, being drawn ever tighter. But the gun in her hand was steady.

Up on its side, the mattress formed a protective wall of springs and foam. She didn’t dare lean to see past it, because then they might catch sight of her. Instead, pulse racing, she watched in the mirror as the first guy came through the door. He was layered in muscle, and he had the cold, flat look of someone who hunted often and well. His long hair was greased back from his face and he wore at least three heavy gold chains around his neck.

She didn’t move, barely dared to breathe. She just watched him and waited. He took his time, pausing just inside the door to look around. He was followed by two others. Taller. Leaner. Younger. One of them hadn’t been there earlier when she’d seen them downstairs. Which meant there were more than three.

Were they human? Or were they…like her?

She’d never been this close to those who hunted her. Except for that night that Kai had lured her to Coit Tower with roses and a note, she’d never come this close to being caught before. Her mother’s warnings had sufficed to keep her on her toes and always ready to bolt.

Her earliest memories were of her mother holding her close and telling her terrible stories of the men who chased them.

“How will I know they’re bad men, Mommy?”

“You will feel it here, in your heart, in your soul. When you see them, run. Think of nothing and no one else. Just run. Hide. Be safe.”

Why hadn’t she seen this coming and run when she first spotted them earlier?

Because everyone made mistakes. She could only hope this one didn’t prove disastrous for her.

The music from downstairs amped up another notch. She felt the beat clear through to her bones.

The guy with the slicked-back hair shot a quick look at each of the other two, then he gestured toward the kitchen, and one of them headed in that direction. That meant he was out of her sight line. She didn’t like that.

She eased forward, risking discovery, but widening the mirror’s reflected view.

Extending two fingers toward the open bedroom door, the leader sent the third guy heading in her direction and she saw the glint of a knife in his hand. She didn’t know why it surprised her. They were monsters, hunters who would do whatever it took to catch her. But while she could remember nets and batons and lariats from every previous near miss, she couldn’t recall ever having seen them with knives or guns. Not even that night at Coit Tower.

The leader turned. His gaze met Amber’s in the mirror, then flicked to her gun. For a millisecond, everything froze. Then he opened his mouth, and she knew he called out though the pounding music made his words indecipherable.

Fear writhed and twisted inside her, a beast on a short chain. She wasn’t afraid of death. She was afraid of capture. Do anything to escape them. Anything. Her mother’s warnings, uttered thousands of times over the years, coalesced into an icy ball in her gut.

Lunging for the door to the bedroom, the leader pulled a gun from the holster beneath his arm as he moved. The guy with the knife was a step ahead of him.

The weapons meant they were willing to kill her. Which meant that they could take what they wanted from her corpse. Or they knew that, for her, dead didn’t mean dead.

Either way, she had no intention of offering an easy mark.

Amber surged to her feet and fired halfway through the exhale. A shot to the head. The first bullet went in just above the bridge of the younger guy’s nose. The second took him high on the right cheek.

Time froze. Bile crawled up the back of her throat. She’d trained for years, but she’d never actually fired at a person before.

The hunter just stood there, staring at her. Then he dropped to the floor as though his bones had liquefied all at once.

Panting, she realized he had been the only thing standing between her and the leader’s gun. Now there was nothing.

Not that she feared death. Having been through it three times already, she was a fair hand at it now. The first time, she had been run down by a wagon when she was five. She woke to find herself lying on a wooden table in a pool of blood. She’d opened her eyes and sat up and the women standing around her had screamed and crossed themselves. Her mother had burst in and bundled her up and they had run, leaving everything behind except the clothes on their backs.

That was the first time that Amber had understood that she was different and that the hunters her mother spoke of wanted her because of those differences. Her mother had sworn that if the hunters got her, what would follow would be more terrible than she could ever imagine. To this day, Amber had never doubted her, and it was the knowledge that they wanted something from her—some intangible, unnamed thing—that made panic curdle in her gut.

Her mother had refused to tell her what that thing was, no matter how many years passed and how many times they had to run. Her mother was dead now. Buried. So it was too late for answers. And Amber was alone, a freak who couldn’t die and whose every injury healed within hours.

She dropped to her knees as a bullet grazed the edge of the mattress, sending bits of foam and cloth in all directions.

Going down flat on her belly, she fired straight ahead under the bed, a clean shot through the leader’s ankle.

But he didn’t fall.

His feet left the floor as he dived overtop the box spring, leaving spots of blood dotted with shiny white chips of bone behind on the pale wood floor. His momentum sent the mattress toppling against the wall.

Amber rolled out of the way and surged to her feet to dart around the foot of the bed. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the mirror. A fourth guy coming through the apartment door? Or was it just the third one moving around?

No time to find out.

She spun to face slicked-back hair and gold chains and a gun.

Their eyes met.

Something hit her left shoulder, a dull thud. But she held her place.

Aim. Exhale. Squeeze.

Her bullet went in just above his left eye.

Blood and tissue splattered her beige wall.

She fired again. The insurance shot. More blood. More splatter.

Don’t look. Don’t think about it.

She felt dizzy. Sick. She’d never been this close. Never had to kill anyone. Never had to actually fire her gun at anything that lived and breathed.

Always before this, she’d had a chance to run.

Now, she’d killed two men.

Forcing herself to take slow breaths, she turned and looked to the open bedroom door, expecting to see the last guy framed in the entry.

No one there.

She had the horrible feeling that it was only the element of surprise that had saved her so far. She doubted they’d expected her to fight back. Or to have a gun.

The element of surprise had been expended.

She shook her head to clear the buzzing, then pressed her hand to her shoulder. It came away streaked in blood.

Not good.

Glancing around, she saw the purple silk scarf she’d bought months ago because she’d liked the color, but never worn. It was draped where she’d left it, over the bedside lampshade. She grabbed it and wrapped her shoulder as tight as she could manage using one hand and her teeth, her gaze locked on the bedroom door.

There was no outcry from the bar below, which meant that either no one had heard the shots, or they’d decided it was all part of the show.

But the guy in the other room had to have heard them.

Which meant he was forewarned. He knew she had a weapon. And he knew she would use it.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t come tearing in here. He was waiting out there. Waiting for her to make a mistake.

She glanced at the mirror. The angle was wrong. She couldn’t see the living room, just the splintered front door and the entryway. She couldn’t see the third hunter, and she didn’t know if there was a fourth.

Pressing tight to the wall, she peered around the bedroom door, her palms slick, a trickle of cold sweat snaking between her breasts.

There was a fourth. She caught a glimpse of his back, his raised arm and his fingers curled tight around the third hunter’s throat. She had a fleeting impression of a dark jacket and dark hair and not much else before she jerked back and stood with her palms flat against the wall and her chest heaving.

Were they fighting among themselves? She couldn’t credit that. More likely, the late arrival was a new player entirely. The rules of the game had just shifted and she was left reeling.

She needed to get out of here. And if she were smart, she’d kill both those men out there to make certain they didn’t follow. The thought almost made her dry heave. It was one thing to kill in self-defense, quite another to shoot a man in the back.

Carefully, she twisted and leaned to look out once more.

The band downstairs ended the set, leaving an instant of comparative quiet.

The man in the black jacket tightened his hold on the hunter’s throat. Then he formed a claw with the fingers of his left hand and rammed them through the hunter’s chest.

Amber pressed the back of her fist against her mouth as the sound of ribs snapping filled the silence.

The hunter’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, as though the breath had been stolen from his lungs. The fist-sized hole in his chest might explain that.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away. Could only watch in horror as the guy with his back to her rooted around in the hunter’s chest and tore out his heart with a vicious yank.

A crimson arc sprayed the wall.

He held the still-pulsing heart in his fist, blood dripping to the floor, then he shoved it into…something…a pocket? A pouch? She couldn’t see from this angle.

Move. She needed to move. But her feet wouldn’t obey her silent command. Terror held her rooted.

There was blood everywhere. The floor. The wall. The hunter’s clothing.

Maybe she made a sound. Or maybe he just sensed her. But he lowered his chin and turned his head, not enough so she could see his face, but enough that she could hear him in the relative quiet as the band geared up for their next set.

“I’m not here for you,” he said, his voice a low rasp that scraped her nerve endings raw.

She took a step to the side, then froze as a greasy black thing oozed from the gaping hole in the hunter’s chest and curled around his killer’s wrist, then inched up his arm like a slug made of thick, oily smoke.

“Go,” he ordered, and turned his face back toward his prey.

He released his hold of the hunter’s throat. The body collapsed to the ground, the black slug rising like a cloud of putrid smoke to hover above the killer’s shoulder, held there by a bright thread of light.

Amber willed her feet to move. But she managed only a shuffling slide, her legs shaking so hard she could barely stay on her feet.

Then it was too late.

She heard him inhale sharply.

He turned, his movements slow, and Amber’s world ground to an abrupt, stomach-churning halt. Close-cropped dark hair. High cheekbones. Eyes dark and framed by thick, curling lashes. Dark stubble shading his jaw.

His expression was flat and cold, mirroring none of the incredulity that cascaded through her.

Kai.

It couldn’t be.

He was dead.

That thought forced a bubble of hysterical laughter up her throat, and she choked it back. She knew better than anyone that dying was relative.

But…Kai? She’d seen his body, visited his grave. Only once. That was all she’d dared because that grave would have been the first place the hunters looked.

No…twice. She’d been an idiot. She’d taken flowers last week. On his birthday. Daisies. Because he always sent her daisies. God, how could she have been so stupid? He’d sold her out to the hunters and she’d come back fifty years later to visit his grave in a moment of melancholy loneliness.

That was what had started this. She’d gone to Kai’s grave and even all these years later, they must have been watching.

She stared at him now, the hard planes and angles of his face caught the light filtering through the window that overlooked the street.

His eyes met hers, and she saw nothing there. Not love. Not hate. Perhaps not even recognition.

With a gasp, she fell back.

The band started up again, the bass pounding through her, or maybe that was only the rushing of her pulse.

“Amber.” His lips shaped her name, but she didn’t hear the word.

Her throat constricted and her heart gave a painful jerk.

She saw only a blur as he moved to block her route to the door.

“Let me pass,” she said, uncertain if he could even hear her above the music.

He only stared at her, saying nothing. Her gaze flicked to the dead hunter who lay in a pool of blood, his chest ripped open, then to the dark, amorphous mass floating above Kai’s shoulder.

She swallowed against the knot that clogged her throat.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Then she raised her hand, pulled the trigger and shot him through the heart.

Chapter Two

Kai caught her on the stairs. He got one arm around her waist, lifted her clear off her feet and slapped his other palm over her mouth.

His chest felt like it was on fire. Christ. She’d shot him. In the heart.

It was kind of fitting if he thought about it. The only thing more apt would have been if she reached inside him and ripped the damned thing clean out.

Amber.

She was alive. She was here. She was in his arms.

What the fuck?

He’d lost count of the number of nights he’d dreamed of her, ached for her. Fantasized about tearing her lying, deceitful heart from her breast.

She’d sent him to die. Lucky for him, things had worked out different than she planned.

The scent of her hair drifted to him. She wore it exactly the same, loose to her shoulders, light brown, tipped in gold. He gave in to temptation and lowered his face. She smelled of vanilla and strawberries and he wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe deep and lose himself in the memories of everything they’d once had.

Had. Past tense. Key concept here.

Glancing at the door at the base of the stairs, he tightened his grip as she elbowed him in the side. He shifted his weight, trapping her between his chest and the wall, preventing her from moving the hand that held the gun. Not that she could kill him. But he felt pain and, having one bullet in him already, he wasn’t anxious for more.

“Fifty years,” he snarled. “Fifty fucking years.” Of all the things to say, all the things to ask, that was the best he could come up with? But with the band playing loud enough to shake the walls, she probably hadn’t heard him anyway.

He wrenched the gun from her grasp, checked the safety and shoved the barrel into his waistband. Not ideal, but it would do for the moment.

She struggled and writhed as he half dragged, half carried her back up the stairs, not stopping at her door, but heading higher, toward the roof. It was quieter up there and, for the moment, safe enough.

Pain exploded, bright and hot, as she gave a particularly violent wrench that rammed her elbow against the hole in his chest. He was tempted to return the favor, to dig his fingers into the wound in her shoulder.

In the end he didn’t. Couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

Whatever he’d become, he hadn’t sunk so low as that.

But he kept a tight grip on her, refusing to give an inch. He hadn’t come here for her, but now that he had her, he wasn’t about to let her go until he got some answers.

He’d been sent to find out why Asmodeus had dispatched men to San Francisco, and to harvest the darksoul of one man in particular. He glanced at the dark mass hovering above his shoulder. One task down.

They were on the roof now, and he kicked the door shut behind him. The sounds of the bar and the street and the traffic carried to them, but it was far quieter up here than it had been below. They were alone.

Amber jerked in his grasp, and he drew her tighter against him, resting his lips against her ear. He felt her shiver.

“What’s the deal, Amber?” he asked softly, her name melting on his tongue. “You’re here. You’re alive. And you don’t look a minute older than the last time I saw you…which was what? Fifty years ago?” He paused. “Don’t scream. You never know what kind of vermin might come running.”

She gave a spare nod and he let his hand drop from her mouth.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, struggling against him. “Why haven’t you aged? Or died?”

“Disappointed?” Circling both her wrists with one hand, he turned her to face him. Her hair tumbled forward in tousled, loose curls. There was a purple scarf tied around her shoulder and he could smell her blood. He wondered how badly she was hurt. Then he wondered why he cared.

Unable to stop himself, he reached for the scarf, picked at the knot. It was stubborn.

With his gaze locked on hers, he pulled her gun from his waist, closed his hand on the barrel and crushed it. Her eyes widened, the color draining from her face.

He let go of her wrists, took the silk scarf between his hands and tore it in two. She sucked in a breath and her gaze slammed to his.

“It was ruined anyway,” he said. “The blood—” He made a vague gesture and then he realized it wasn’t the ruined scarf that had her looking at him oddly, but the fact that he’d crushed her gun.

She swayed a little, as though overwhelmed by the events of the night. Maybe she was. But he didn’t trust anything about her.

“What are you?” she asked, and took a deep breath, visibly getting herself under control.

No reason to lie when the truth would do.

“Me? I’m a reaper.” He cocked a brow and looked at the skin showing through the blood-crusted hole in her shirt. It was healing already, pink puckered flesh that looked like a month-old scar rather than a fresh wound. “And you?”

She stared at him for a long moment, two parallel lines drawn between her brows. He remembered that frown. How many times had he reached out and smoothed it away?

“You’re a grim reaper?” she asked. “Like an angel of death?”

He blinked. He’d thought she’d know what he was talking about. After all, she’d been the one to put the events in motion.

“A soul reaper,” he said, watching her carefully.

The words didn’t appear to mean a damned thing to her.

“I work for Sutekh,” he clarified, and when she didn’t react, he continued, “Set. Seteh. Lord of the desert. Lord of chaos. God of storms. God of darkness. The Underworld überlord of chaos and evil.”

Her gaze snapped up, and he realized she was looking at the darksoul he’d harvested, bobbing somewhere to the left of his head.

“Is that a soul?”

He was surprised that she could see it. Humans couldn’t. It was proof positive that she wasn’t human. Maybe she never had been. He supposed that of all the things he could hold against her, that really wasn’t one of them, since he wasn’t human anymore himself.

“A darksoul. It’s a meal for Sutekh. He has an army of us harvesting for him.”

“A meal?”

Kai offered a dark smile. “He ingests darksouls. He feeds off evil.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, though the night was warm.

“What about—” she pointed at the pouch he’d thrust the heart into “—that?”

“The heart? It’s an offering for Osiris. It gets weighed against the feather of truth.”

She shook her head. “Who—”

“No,” he cut her off. “We’re trading answers. I showed you mine. Time to show me yours. What do you owe Asmodeus? And how the fuck did you slip his noose?”

“Asmodeus,” she repeated, as though the name were a foreign flavor touching her tongue for the first time.

“Underworld deity,” he clarified. As if she didn’t already know. “Demon of lust. He runs Topworld rackets. Drugs. Prostitutes. Given that those were his grunts we just terminated, I’m guessing you sold him something in exchange for eternal youth and life and then reneged on your deal. And now he’s after you.”

Kai wondered if Asmodeus had been after her for all of those fifty years. That night on Pfeiffer Beach, perhaps she’d meant to trade him. A life for a life. His for hers. Thinking back on it, the men who’d killed him could well have belonged to Asmodeus.

For fifty years, he’d agonized over the answers, wanting to know why. Could it really be as simple as this? Could Amber have sacrificed him to try and pay whatever debt she’d owed the demon of lust?

She met his gaze and he was blindsided by a rush of memories. She was beautiful. Her brows were finely arched and winged up at the sides, her eyes light brown, flecked in gold. Unable to resist, he reached out and stroked a tumbled curl back from her cheek. He’d dreamed of her hair, her skin. The feel. The smell.

He leaned a little closer. Her lips parted. He knew the shape of them—the lower slightly fuller than the upper. Knew the feel of them. The taste.

“I saved your life in there,” he said softly. “The least you can do is give me an honest answer. What do you owe Asmodeus? And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

For an endless second, they just stood there, connected by the tips of his fingers where they rested on the arc of her cheek and by memories and history and a fine humming tension that sparked the night air.

“I saved my own life,” she said, flinching away from his touch. He followed her gaze to his fingers. They were smeared with blood, and he’d transferred some to her skin. Probably best not to tell her that.

With a shudder, she scrubbed the heel of her palm against her cheek, then stared at the blood that was now on her hand. Her gaze slowly returned to his.

“And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words were low and emphatic, like she was pouring her will into them. “I don’t know who Asmodeus is.”

“Do you think I believe you? Do you think I’ve forgotten what happened the last time I trusted you?” He huffed a short laugh. “You were always secretive, and I made excuses for that. Convinced myself you’d open up in time. Was there ever a word of truth in anything you told me?”

She didn’t answer, but something flickered in her eyes. Guilt? Regret?

“I died,” he said. “You got me killed.”

“I got you—” She pressed her lips together and exhaled sharply through her nose, a sound of contempt. “You’re not dead now.”

“And neither are you. Care to explain that?”

Indecision skittered across her features. And then she locked down, her expression closing. “You first.”

She said it like she expected him to decline. But if tit for tat was what it took to get some answers out of her, he was fine with that.

“No problem. But not here.” He tightened his grip on her wrist as he felt her muscles twitch. She meant to escape him. Good luck with that.

She stared at him for a long moment, and he didn’t like the way it made him feel. Like he was the bad guy. Which, actually, he was, thanks to her. Before she’d sent him out to die, he’d been a good guy. The help-an-old-lady-across-the-street, get-a-cat-out-of-a-tree, donate-blood kind of guy.

Now, he was a survival-of-the-fittest kind of guy.

“Are there more of them out there?” she asked with a glance toward the edge of the roof.

He wasn’t surprised. She’d always been practical. “You’ll save your meltdown for later?”

“Not now. And not later,” she said, and he knew it was true. Just one more thing that had made him fall in love with her. She’d never been the type to pitch a fit.

Love. Hate. Fine line in between. Whatever he felt for her, it was colored by a heavy dose of lust.

The past slammed head-on into the present. He’d always been gentle back then. Careful. As if she were made of spun glass. He didn’t want to be now. He wanted to open his mouth on hers, taste her lips, her skin. He wanted to press her down right here, on the roof, under the stars. Cover her. Take her. Plunge into the heat of her. Make up for all the years of pain and loss.

He wanted that with a fierceness that shocked him. Just from standing near her. Christ. It was all he could do not to give in and act on the need.

At the same time, he was acutely aware of the fact that whatever vengeance he’d dreamed about, he didn’t want to hurt her. He just wanted to feel himself deep inside of her.

Amber froze, her eyes going wide, her pupils dilating. She sensed it, the thing inside him that pulsed and ached.

Scrubbing his palm along his jaw, he exhaled on a dark laugh.

“There are at least four more,” he said, answering her earlier question, pretending that the beast lurking inside him wasn’t a hair away from getting out. “They’re Topworld grunts who work for Asmodeus, and they’re a long way from home.”

Which was the reason he was here at all. Sutekh’s youngest son had been murdered, sending the entire Underworld into a tailspin. Anything out of the ordinary was suspect, and a slew of Asmodeus’s grunts heading to San Francisco was out of the ordinary.

“The ones I recognize are all from his Toronto crew,” he continued. “Big Ralph’s boys.”

“You sound like a bad gangster movie.” She lifted one hand in a gesture of futility. “I’ve never been to Toronto. I don’t know anyone by the name of Big Ralph. Or Asmodeus.”

She wanted to ask him about a million questions. He could see it in her eyes. Instead, she just shook her head and said, “Let’s go.”

Decisive. Make her choice, follow through. He’d always liked that about her. It bothered him to realize he still did. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d played with this particular pack of matches before, and he’d been damned near incinerated. He ought to know better than to like anything about her.

“You’re agreeable,” he said. “Is it because you think I’m the lesser of evils?”

“Something like that. For now.” She turned toward the stairs they’d taken to get up here.

He almost laughed. “Wrong way,” he said and, catching her wrist, dragged her to the edge of the roof.

“I don’t think—”

“Good,” he cut her off as she peered over the edge. “Don’t think. Just follow my lead.” He let a mocking edge creep into his voice. “Unless you’d prefer to run into company.” He dipped his chin toward the end of the street where two of Asmodeus’s grunts lounged against a wall, the glow of their cigarettes surging each time they took a drag.

“How do you know they aren’t just two guys out for a smoke?”

“I can see their faces.”

She was silent for a second, digesting that. They were almost a block away.

“You’re different now,” she said. He thought she sounded wistful.

“Yeah.” That was about all the explanation she deserved.

He kept a tight grip on her hand as he drew her to the edge of the roof that overlooked the back of the club. No one was down there.

“The stairs are the other way,” she said, wariness coloring her words.

“We’re not taking the stairs.” And that was all the warning he gave her. Looping one arm tight around her waist and the other across her back so his fingers splayed along the base of her skull, he lifted her off her feet and jumped.

Her scream was muffled by his shoulder.

“Two stories,” he said when they landed. “For me, that’s like a hop.” He kept his grip on her long enough for her to find her feet, and couldn’t help but admire the fact that apart from a look that was vicious enough to gouge out eyes, she just nodded when he said, “This way.”

They both knew that any more questions would have to wait.

He hurried her along the street, and when she wasn’t fast enough, he grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her along. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know they were being followed. He felt it. And from the way she doubled her pace, he thought that maybe she did, too.

Yanking open the door to the public lot at the corner, he shoved her through ahead of him and barked, “Up.”

She took the stairs two at a time, and he was close on her heels. Then he surged ahead of her, caught her wrist again and dragged her through the door to P3.

The band of pure energy that he’d used to tether the darksoul to him pulled taut. He yanked it back. He had twenty-four hours to get the heart and darksoul to the Underworld. He couldn’t take Amber with him. And for the moment, he couldn’t leave her alone.

He caught her cutting a look at the thing through her lashes. “Turn,” he ordered, and together they rounded the elevators.

She skidded to a stop as they reached the far side.

“That’s a—”

“Mint-condition 1960 Corvette convertible,” he finished for her. The car he’d dreamed about buying way back in the day. He remembered the birthday card she’d given him that year. Hand-made, with a picture of a corvette that she’d cut out of a magazine.

“The soul reaper business must be good,” she said softly.

He pulled open the passenger door and nudged her inside. As she looked up at him, he met her gaze.

“I kill bad people, Amber.” He offered a smile that was all teeth and little warmth. “Rip their hearts out. Steal their darksouls. Deliver them as a meal of pure power to the god who owns me.”

He tossed the pouch with the heart onto the floor at her feet, but his eyes never left hers.

“And sometimes,” he continued, “if the dead have no heirs, then I help myself to what was theirs.” He leaned in, and she gasped, raising her hands to press her palms against his chest and hold him off. Then she flushed when all he did was drag the seat belt across her lap. He smiled at that. “I’m good at what I do. And the pay’s great.”

All true. But he didn’t say a word about the fact that he was low man on the totem pole and his existence was only assured if he could maintain his kill numbers. He survived on the edge. And somewhere along the way, he’d grown to like that. The adrenaline high. He supposed, to a degree, all soul reapers did.

His head kicked up as he heard the sound of a powerful engine and the squeal of tires. Time to move.

Slamming the door shut, he then rounded the hood, slid into his seat and got the car moving.

They reached the spiral exit ramp just as an enormous black Hummer bore down on them.

Chapter Three

Amber dug her fingers into her thighs as Kai careened down the spiral ramp. They were going so fast, she didn’t know how he wasn’t losing control of the car and scraping the wall.

“You can relax,” he said. “I won’t crash.”

That wasn’t what she was afraid of. If she died a fourth time, she’d just wake up hours later in the morgue. She knew that from experience; her third death had been in a car crash. The only thing that worried her was the hunters getting their hands on her. She’d spent her entire life afraid of them. Her mother had sung that fear into her head like a lullaby, and the fact that they always managed to find her eventually and send her running all over again only strengthened it.

She twisted to look back. The Hummer was losing ground, and the driver’s side scraped the concrete wall with a shriek and a shower of sparks.

“Grunts,” Kai said, apparently unconcerned. He turned his head and gave her a measured look. “Ready to tell me what they want with you?”

“Why do you call them grunts?” she asked, wincing as they sped around the corner and onto Mission. Kai let the engine roar, and the car flew along the street. Then he cut a sharp right onto 10th.

Again, she looked behind them. The Hummer was back there, not gaining, but not losing ground, either.

“Topworld grunts are humans who work for Underworlders.”

“I call them hunters,” she said, eying the greasy, black cloud that bobbed just behind Kai’s head.

“Why?”

“Because they hunt me.”

The look he shot her was glacial.

“Why?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Kai took a corner so fast, she was certain they were going to fly off the road and slam into the storefront. She held her breath, only releasing it when another look over her shoulder revealed that the Hummer was nowhere in sight.

That should have eased her mind. Instead, it made her edgy. “Too easy,” she muttered.

“Yeah. They’ll be back.”

His left hand was relaxed on the wheel as they merged onto the I-80 east. His right hand rested on the knob of the gearshift. There was dried blood on his fingers. Long, strong fingers with blunt tips.

She looked away, not wanting to remember.

“Hunters…” he prodded.

She pressed her lips together. She didn’t trust him. But he seemed to have a whole bucket load of information that she lacked. So she was open to a little conversation.

Suddenly, she realized that for the first time since her mother’s death, she could tell someone the truth. She wasn’t human. But then, Kai wasn’t exactly human himself. Not anymore. And he had answers. He knew about things she’d never imagined.

“Who is Asmodeus?” she asked.

“Told you. Demon of lust.”

“What does he want with me?”

Kai passed two cars, then tucked in front of a truck.

“If they’re behind us, this’ll offer a bit of cover,” he said. Then he shrugged. “You tell me what Asmodeus wants with you. You made some deal with him or he wouldn’t be hunting you. I just have to wonder what kind of deal. He’s expending a shitload of manpower.” He shot her an assessing look. “Has he been looking for you all this time? A lot of years to chase after someone who doesn’t owe him anything, don’t you think?”

“If I owe him something, I have no idea what it is.” Had her mother known? Had her mother made some deal with a demon? The possibility chilled her. “He’s been hunting me forever,” she whispered.

“How long is forever?”

“Since the day I was born.”

“Which was? You never did tell me. Never told me what day you were born. Or what year. Was anything you ever told me the truth? Or was it all lies, every word of it?”

There was a thread of pain in his words. It stunned her. And shamed her. Because she had lied to him, again and again.

“When were you born?” Kai asked.

“Over a hundred years ago,” she said, giving him that, because a conversation couldn’t happen with only one person doing the talking. And because it felt so good to tell the truth—even if it was just a small truth—at last.

“So when we were together…”

“I stopped aging at twenty five. Maybe even before that, but when I was twenty-five I noticed my skin hadn’t changed. Not even a freckle or a faint line. Nothing.”

“How do you know he’s been hunting you since you were born?” Kai checked the mirrors, but didn’t appear concerned by what he saw. Still, she couldn’t resist the need to check for herself. The Hummer was nowhere in sight.

How much to tell? How much was too much?

“My mother told me that we moved constantly when I was small,” she began, and as the words came, she found herself telling him all. About her mother. The hunters. The terror that if they caught her they would do things to her that were worse than death.

She told him about the three times she’d died, about waking up in a cold room on a cold table in the morgue after her second death, draped in a sheet, surrounded by corpses. The horror of that had never faded.

She told him not because she trusted him, but because she wanted him to trust her. To tell her what he knew.

They left San Francisco behind by the time she was done her story, and Kai never interrupted, only listened and nodded.

When she was done and fell silent, he said, “You should have told me this—”

“Really?” she cut him off before he could finish. “You would have believed me? You would have thought I was on drugs or that I was insane.”

He was silent long enough that she knew he conceded the point.

A flicker of unease unfurled inside her, and she spun to look through the back window. In the distance was the gleam of headlights coming in fast.

Kai eased up on the accelerator, letting their speed drop.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “We need to outrun them.”

“Where’s the challenge in that?”

“Challenge? You think this is a game?”

“Everything in life is a game, Amber. It’s all about how much enjoyment you take from the play.”

She was silent for an instant. The Kai she’d loved wouldn’t have felt that way. He’d been as solid as granite. What did it say about her that she found this new facet of his personality appealing?

“You’ve left me without a weapon,” she said. “What am I supposed to do? Rely on you to keep me safe?”

He laughed, the sound easy and unfettered, reaching deep inside her and twisting her in knots.

“It’s been forever since I kept anyone safe. This should be fun.” He glanced at her, his dark eyes gleaming. Then he took pity on her and dipped his chin toward the glove box. “There’s a knife in there if it’ll make you feel better.”

She popped the compartment open and snagged the knife. It was old, with an elaborately engraved handle and a curved blade. But at least it was a weapon. “Yes, it makes me feel better, but I’d have preferred my gun.” She frowned. “Speaking of which, I shot you.”

He rubbed his chest. “Yeah, you did.”

“It didn’t even slow you down.” She cut a glance at the side mirror and saw that the headlights were closer still. Her heartbeat accelerated and her breathing ramped up.

“Think of me as the improved version,” Kai said. “It’d take more than a bullet to stop me.”

She stared at the approaching headlights. “What would it take?” She hoped the answer was something more than Asmodeus’s lackeys.

Her heart pounded as the Hummer came roaring up behind them, inches from the rear bumper. There were no other cars in sight and all around them were fields. Endless fields.

“If they scratch my bumper, I’ll kill them,” Kai muttered, speeding up just enough to stay ahead of them.

Amber swallowed. Her blood rushed loud in her ears. “Don’t you plan to kill them anyway?”

Kai slanted her a glance through his lashes but said nothing.

Yanking the wheel, Kai jerked the car to one side. Amber’s shoulder hit the door. The lights from the Hummer disappeared for a second then cut through the darkness once more as the driver aligned his course to Kai’s.

The Hummer bumped them hard enough to make Amber’s head rock.

“You think holding that’s such a good idea?” Kai asked, gesturing at the knife. “At the rate we’re going, you could stab yourself.”

He spun the wheel and they veered sharply to the right, sending Amber sliding in the opposite direction along the seat. Again, the Hummer bumped them, harder this time.

Deciding he had a point, she popped the glove box, threw the knife back inside and slammed it shut just as the Hummer slammed them hard. There was a dull thud from under her feet and she looked down to see that the heart had rolled free of the leather pouch.

“Fuck,” Kai snarled. “Can you pick that up for me?”

“What?”

The Hummer rammed them again. Amber grabbed the seat to balance herself against the blows. The heart rolled under her seat.

“Pick it up. Please,” Kai said, his words painfully polite. “I can’t bring the darksoul without the heart.”

The next time the Hummer hit them, metal linked with metal and when Kai veered to the side, he didn’t pull free.

“We’re caught on their bumper,” she cried.

“No shit. The repairs on this are going to cost a fucking fortune. If I didn’t plan to kill them already, this would seal the deal.”

He hit the brakes. Tires squealed. Amber smelled something burning. She thought it might be the brakes.

Then the Hummer lifted and rolled forward, crushing the back of the Corvette, stopping inches short of crushing her and Kai.

“You okay?”

He waited for her to nod before he threw open his door and leaped out of the car. Only after he was gone did she wonder at the concern she’d read in his eyes.

She retrieved the knife, the heart from under her seat, and as an afterthought reached for the bright band that tethered the darksoul, dragging it behind her as she left the car.

Kai was talking to the hunters, hands spread, palms up, unarmed, though all of them had guns pointed at him. He was talking, talking, and she heard her name, then, “Toronto,” and finally, “Asmodeus” and “non-negotiable.”

Slowly, she began to back away. What the hell had she been thinking, trusting Kai? He could be selling her out right now, making a deal to hand her over to the hunters.

Terror surged, leaving her breathless.

Endless fields stretched on all sides. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

The hunters’ voices rose, angry, aggressive. Then shots rang out. Amber jerked and jerked again, as though the bullets had pierced her body instead of Kai’s.

She watched him twitch as they shot him, and to her horror, she cried out, not because of what his death meant in terms of her safety, but because with each shot, she felt it like an arrow to her soul. She didn’t want him to die. She’d only just found him again. She didn’t want him to die.

But Kai didn’t fall. He didn’t even stumble. His smile was feral, white teeth and threat of death, and when he moved, she barely saw him. All she saw was the surprise etched on the hunters’ faces as he killed them, one by one, ripping free their hearts.

When it was done, he stood there, breathing hard, blood covering his hands and forearms, and a spray of it marking his face. And all around him, like fallen dominoes, the bodies of the dead.

His gaze raked her, then he strode toward her, eyes glittering, mouth hard. He stopped a foot away, and she could feel energy pounding off him in waves.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, as he shot a glance at the darksoul, then the bright band that held it, following the thin thread down to her hand. He stared at her hand for a long time. Too long.

Then he grabbed her, unmindful of the blood that slicked his hands and he dragged her against him, hard muscle and heat. Lowering his mouth, he kissed her, his lips opening on hers, his tongue sliding inside.

And, heaven help her, she let him.

No, more than that, she dug her fingers into the solid muscle of his shoulders, held him close and kissed him back.

Chapter Four

Pulling out his phone, Kai let his finger hover for a second before he chose a number and hit speed dial.

“I need cleanup,” he said when Malthus Krayl answered. He figured that if he needed a favor, Mal was his best choice. He was high up in the ranks, one of Sutekh’s sons. He was easy-going and always ready for anything. But he wouldn’t ask the questions that Sutekh’s second-in-command would ask.

Kai watched Amber as he spoke, noting the tension in her shoulders and the way she refused to look at him. She hadn’t looked at him since she’d broken the kiss and stepped away. But she was still holding the tether of pure energy that held the darksoul Kai had harvested earlier. He wouldn’t have believed that if he weren’t seeing it with his own eyes, because as far as he knew, only soul reapers and Underworld lords could grab hold of that kind of power.

All soul reapers were male; hence, Amber wasn’t a soul reaper.

And Underworld gods couldn’t leave the Underworld; hence, she wasn’t one of them.

So what the fucking hell was she? He had a feeling that if he could just answer that question, he’d know why Asmodeus was hunting her.

When he finished giving Mal the details of their location, Kai shoved his phone back in his pocket and approached her.

The way he saw it, he had two choices. Talk to her about that kiss. Or not. He went with not. For the moment, at least. She was strung so tight he thought the slightest stroke might make her snap like an overwound guitar string.

“I’ll take that,” he said, reaching for the darksoul and the pouch that held the heart.

Her gaze slid to the bodies that littered the road. They’d been lucky that no other cars had come along. It might be a bit difficult to explain away the carnage.

“Why didn’t you do the same thing to them? Take their darksouls and keep their hearts?” she asked.

Kai measured his response and pared it down to the bare bones of the truth.

“The Underworld’s divided up into Territories, sort of like crime syndicates divide up cities, I guess. All the gods and demigods hold sway in their own kingdoms. And they have Topworld grunts—”

“Like them.” She looked at the bodies again.

“Like them,” he agreed. “They run rackets Topworld. Drugs. Women. Real-estate fraud. Weapons. Anything that makes money, but really, they’re all after the souls. That’s the currency that matters in the Underworld, and the Topworld rackets are just a way to get them. But there’s sort of an unwritten rule that we don’t recklessly harvest from another lord’s crew.”

She waved a hand at the darksoul bobbing above them. “But you killed him.”

“He had a prior debt to Sutekh. I was sent to harvest him.” And to find out why Asmodeus had sent men to San Francisco. For a while there, he’d thought he’d only accomplish one of the two. But now he had a pretty damned good idea about the demon of lust’s motives; he wanted Amber. Problem was, that knowledge put him in a damned tight spot.

Her gaze slid to his Corvette, squashed like a bug beneath the weight of the Hummer. He winced just to look at it.

“What now?” she asked, her voice subdued.

It was a loaded question, and telling her the answers all at once might not be the best plan. Instead, he asked a question of his own.

“The night I died, why did you send me to Pfeiffer Beach?”

“I didn’t send you anywhere.”

“I looked for you,” he said, revealing more than he meant to. “Time passes differently in the Underworld. Once I could leave, months had passed. I tried to find you. Everything was gone. Your clothes. Your toothbrush. There wasn’t a thread or button or pin to show that you’d ever been there. I might have thought I’d imagined all those months—”

“I left nothing that could lead them to me.”

“Why did you send me to Pfeiffer Beach?”

“I didn’t”

“It was your lipstick on the mirror.”

She shook her head, and then she whispered, “No wonder you believed it was me.” She was silent for a long moment. “I believed you sent me to Coit Tower,” she said softly, her tone faintly bitter.

“I didn’t.” He held her gaze, willing her to see the truth of his words.

“You sent me roses. And a note. ‘Coit Tower at midnight.’”

“Roses.” He stilled, feeling betrayed all over again. He tamped down that emotion, realizing it was ridiculous, but unable to completely ignore it. Had she not known him at all? Roses. “All these years, you thought I lured you to Coit Tower with fucking roses. What happened there?”

“You know what happened. They were waiting for me. I barely escaped.”

“And you think I sent you there?”

“You think I sent you to Pfeiffer Beach?”

Check. Mate. She snared him in a world of pale brown and gold and all he saw were her eyes and years of hurt layered on hurt.

“No,” he said in all honesty, forcing himself to step beyond habit, beyond the dark certainties and black anger that had haunted him for decades. “Not anymore.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She only stared at him, her chest rising and falling too fast.

“I wouldn’t have sent you roses,” he said at last. “I’d have sent you daisies.”

And from the expression on her face, he knew she believed him.

He reached for her, then froze and drew back as the air beside them shimmered and changed. Electricity danced across his skin, and he knew Amber felt it too because she jerked and rubbed her palms along her forearms. Dark, undulating smog appeared before them, pulling in on itself before bursting outward.

A man stepped through the black mist. His hair was dark, his eyes pale gray. He wore two hoops in each ear, a day’s worth of stubble and a dangerous grin.

“Mal,” Kai greeted him, and tossed him the keys to the Corvette. “I appreciate this.”

Mal caught the keys and shot a curious look at Amber. But he didn’t ask. “I’ll call you next time I need cleanup,” was all he said.

“Can you make the delivery for me, as well?” Kai jerked the darksoul forward.

“And count the kill as mine?”

“No. But I’ll owe you a delivery, as well as a cleanup.”

“Done,” Mal said, flicking another glance in Amber’s direction.

Kai met and held his gaze, offering no explanation. This wasn’t Mal’s business, and it wasn’t his habit to chat up other soul reapers. He kept to himself, did his work, and did it well. He figured that was the best way to ensure his continued survival.

He handed off the darksoul and the heart, then turned to Amber and said, “Let’s go.”

“Go? The car isn’t drivable.”

He winced at the reminder. “It can be fixed. For now, the Hummer will get us where we need to go.”

It wasn’t until they were in the vehicle and pulling away that she asked, “And where is it that we need to go?”

He could see she wasn’t pleased when he didn’t offer an answer. Not that he was being evasive. He just didn’t know how to tell her that all he’d needed to do was turn the puzzle pieces upside down and look at them a whole new way.

They fit perfectly now.

Only, he didn’t think she was going to like the end product they formed.

“Where are we?” Amber stirred in the seat and pushed her hair back out of her face. They’d been driving for about twenty hours, alone in the Hummer, stopping only at gas stations.

They’d talked about a thousand things, none of them important.

Little things. The changes they’d seen in the world. New technologies and inventions. Places they’d been. She’d walked on the Great Wall of China. He’d been diving on the Great Barrier Reef.

He almost found himself promising to take her there.

But they didn’t touch on anything personal. Anytime either of them even prodded at the edges of personal, they both went silent. And every time they went silent, Kai thought of the kiss.

“We’re coming up on Cheyenne,” he said, pulling into the lot of the Central Motel, which actually wasn’t central at all. “Wait here. I’ll get a room.”

He waited a beat for her to tell him to get two rooms, or at least, two beds, but she said nothing, only cut him a quiet look from beneath her lashes.

Then she looked out the window and said, “It’s raining.”

It was. In buckets.

“It was raining the day we met.”

“Yeah.” He stared at the windshield wipers as they whumped back and forth, thinking how long ago that day had been. Less than a memory. Almost a dream.

Heading into the motel office, he paid cash and got a key. There was a small selection of toiletries and snacks, so he picked up a couple of toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, soap. Then he headed back to the Hummer and drove them around to their room. It was an end unit, as he’d requested, and it opened to the back parking lot rather than the road.

There wasn’t another car in sight back here, though there had been two or three parked out front.

He pulled into a spot, got out, rounded to her door. He was drenched by the time he got there, the rain pouring down on him.

“Run for it—”

“No,” she said, and slid from her seat, her body contacting his all the way down.

The rain streamed over them both, leaving her shirt molded to her body and her hair hanging in wet trails.

That fast, emotion swamped him. That fast, lust roared.

Slamming the door shut, he backed her against it, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks, to hold her still. He pinned her with his weight and lowered his mouth to hers. She opened with a sigh and tipped her face to his. It was all the invitation he needed. With a growl, he took the kiss deeper, and felt a primitive satisfaction when she let him in.

He ran his hands along the curves of her waist, the soft swells of her breasts, a little rough, a lot uncouth. She didn’t seem to mind, her hands cupping his ass and dragging him closer.

Need and want. Desire for her pounded him. He’d long ago washed the blood from his hands at the first service station they’d stopped at, and now the rain felt like it washed away all his sins. The past. The pain.

In this moment, there was only Amber, the scent of her skin and the smell of the rain. Her hair was wet, heavy silk in his hands. And under the cool sheets of rain, they made their own heat.

He moved his lips to her throat, tasting her, his teeth nipping lightly, his tongue soothing the hurt. She fisted his shirt, her breath coming in short, sharp pants as she clung to him.

Then she spun him so it was his back against the Hummer and her weight pressed against his, her curves melding with his lines and angles.

Without a word, he scooped her in his arms, holding her against his chest as he strode to the room and unlocked the door.

Chapter Five

Kai tossed the bag of toiletries on the dresser as he kicked the door shut behind him.

The wet material fighting his every move, he dragged Amber’s shirt off over her head. The delay was torture, and pleasure, slowing everything down so he savored every breath she took, every gasp, every sigh. And then finally the shirt was gone and she was in his arms, bare arms and shoulders, bare torso, except for a black lacy bra. He didn’t take it off. Only pushed the cups down, leaving her breasts naked and pushed high in luscious invitation.

He kissed her neck then her collarbone, his thumb brushing the tip of her breast. She gasped and arched against him as he lowered his head and sucked her nipple to a sweet, taut peak, then did the same with the other, leaving them both pink and wet.

“Kai,” she whispered, her hands flat against his chest. Permission or protest, for a second he couldn’t be sure.

Then she pushed at his shirt, the sodden material stubborn against her efforts, and he had his answer. In the end, he struggled out of his clothes as she worked her wet jeans down the length of her legs, both of them huffing and laughing.

“Well worth the effort,” he said when at last they were both naked.

Through the narrow slit in the curtains, a thin stream of light eeked from the single lamp that illuminated the back lot. It was enough to paint her in shades of glitter and gold.

He’d been waiting for her for decades. Dreaming of her for eternity, the memories teasing him until they caused him physical pain. And now she was here. She was warm and willing, her skin silky and still damp, her eyes heavy lidded as she watched him.

She was perfect.

He was on fire; he was so hard he thought the slightest touch would make him burst.

Easing her back, he tumbled with her to the bed.

He was too rough as he pushed her legs apart. He knew that, but she didn’t seem to care. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she pressed her mouth to his, her lips open, her tongue seeking. She tasted him as he tasted her, deep, wet.

Her legs came around his hips, the soft curls between her thighs brushing the head of his erection.

Reaching between them, he stroked her soft folds, found her wet, ready. And with a low growl he pushed two fingers inside her, without finesse or tact. She welcomed him, her hips arching against his hand. She was slick and hot and so damned tight.

“Kai, now,” she breathed, words so soft they were almost without sound.

She was supple beneath him, warmth and welcome. He slid his fingers from her heat, letting them glide over her clitoris, dragging a low moan from her.

Then he shifted and pressed the head of his cock against her opening. She was so damned tight. Hot. Wet. He thrust inside, feeling the easing of her muscles as she opened to the invasion. A coil of raw pleasure made him groan.

He hooked her knee, brought it higher, opening her still more, and she sucked in a breath as he pushed fully inside her, feeling her close around him, tight and lush.

Angling her hips, she took him deeper, matching his pace. He took his time, long, slow thrusts that made her gasp and arch beneath him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, then sliding lower to clasp his buttocks and pull him deeper still.

He overwhelmed her. He ruled her. And she let him, the pleasure coming over her in waves. Amber rode each one higher, closer to the edge.

Rising up on his outstretched arms, he watched her face as he took her, and she watched his. He was beautiful. Primitive. Everything she had ever wanted, ever dreamed of.

The fringe of wet, spiky lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. His eyes were so dark they looked black in this light, beautiful, deep, glittering with something she was afraid to acknowledge. Something that found its match in her heart.

She felt the heat and the power of him as he moved inside her.

Lowering his head, he drew on her nipple, a languid tug that turned into something more. A sharper suction, then the gentle stroke of his tongue that sent pleasure streaking through her veins.

Her eyes flew open, and she gasped as he scraped his teeth along the sensitive flesh, then licked her gently. She clung to him, moving as he moved, meeting each thrust, hungry and wild.

He reared back, his expression savage, his hips moving in perfect rhythm. With a moan, she gave herself over to him, to the rhythm and the pleasure of his thrusts as he drove into her in rough, hard strokes that made her whole body sing.

A raw sound tore from deep in his throat, hard-edged pleasure and animal lust, and he moved in long, full strokes, harder, faster, until she unraveled, her body clenched tight around him.

Ecstasy rode her senses, blurring her thoughts. Her awareness left as her orgasm rocked her, going on and on. With deep, full strokes, he rode her through it and then she felt him shudder against her, his orgasm trembling through him.

Panting, he dropped his head, nuzzling the curve of her neck. She felt liquid and light, as though she were floating. At the same time, she felt wonderfully, incredibly alive.

She thought she might have dozed, though she had no idea for how long. Drowsy, replete, she lay there, and only slowly became aware that he was moving, kissing his way down her body, teasing her to awareness, taking his time.

He took her again and again through the night, driving them both over the edge.

And finally, she slept, wrapped in the safety of his arms.

When Amber woke, the sun was high and Kai was sitting on the foot of the bed, fully dressed, holding a tray with two steaming cups of coffee.

Pushing upright, she held the sheet against her breasts.

“You don’t think it’s a bit late for modesty?” he asked, dark eyes narrowing.

“It is, isn’t it?” So she dropped the sheet.

With deliberate care, he set the coffees on the dresser. “They’ll get cold,” he warned.

“Then we’ll drink them cold.”

He rose and pulled his shirt over his head, baring his naked torso, lean and hard. Her pulse kicked up and she looked her fill. He slid his fingers to his jeans and took his time slipping the button free, pulling the zipper down.

Then he raised his gaze to hers, and cocked a brow. “More?”

“Let me.” She scooted forward and curled her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. His skin was warm, her fingers cool. She smiled as she felt his muscles jump beneath her touch.

Slowly she worked his jeans down his legs, taking the time to kiss his belly, the arc of his hip bone, the bulge of his erection through his boxers. She kissed his muscled thighs as she worked his jeans down to his ankles.

He kicked them free and was on her in a millisecond, his hands trailing fire, stirring her senses and her heart. He made love to her with his lips, with his hands, with his body.

In the end, she lay sprawled atop him, breathing raggedly, heart singing.

They drank cold coffee and ate Danishes so sweet they made her teeth hurt.

Then they showered together, and dressed in clothes Kai had bought in town. Nothing fancy. Jeans and T-shirts. She was surprised at how well he’d judged her size. And she was glad not to have to put the clothes that had been drenched the night before back on.

“I want to take you to Toronto,” he said when they were ready to leave.

Her heart gave a hard thump against her ribs. “Why?”

His jaw tensed. “I want to talk to a guy by the name of Big Ralph. I want to know why Asmodeus sent his crew after you.”

“So you want to take me to the place that Asmodeus is strongest. Those men he sent to kill me came from there. You’re taking me to them. To the hunters I’ve been running from my whole life.”

She surged to her feet and paced across the room, feeling trapped and afraid. “When I was small, they were the monsters beneath my bed. And you want me to go right to them? Deliver myself like a gift?”

Hurt flashed across his features before he masked it.

“Do you think I’d let them take you? Hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

“Why should I trust you?” The words were out before she could stop them, like a gun misfiring without the shooter’s intent. The bullet flew free to do what damage it would, and it was too late to call it back, even if she wanted to.

Did she want to? Did she dare trust him?

She knew almost nothing about what he’d become and what exactly it meant to be a soul reaper. She didn’t know if he lived in the same world she did, or if he spent most of his time in the Underworld. Were there limitations? Conditions?

Everything was so confused and confusing.

And lovemaking didn’t equal love.

Had she ever stopped loving him?

Pain arrowed through her, sharp and bright. She’d never stopped. She’d loved him and hated him. She loved him still.

She met his gaze, wondering how much her expression gave away.

She thought he would turn away, perhaps become angry, but he only came to her slowly, as though approaching a wild thing that would bolt at being cornered.

“Amber,” he whispered her name as he took her hand and drew her against him. “I’m not human anymore. You’re not alone anymore. I never stopped loving you, even when I believed you’d sent me to die. A part of me hated you, but a part of me never stopped loving you.”

His words mirrored the exact emotions of her own heart. Even when she had believed he had betrayed her, a part of her had loved him with an eternal flame.

“I will let no one hurt you,” he said.

And as he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, his heart thudding a steady beat against her ear, she realized that a part of her believed him.

How dangerous was that?

Chapter Six

Toronto, Canada
Three days later

Standing at the counter of the coffee shop, Kai tipped his head to one side and stood perfectly still, his hand half extended with a bill pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Amber collected their cappuccinos as the woman behind the cash looked at him questioningly. But his attention wasn’t on her, it was on the shelf behind her, above the cash register.

Amber followed his gaze. He was staring at a small gray box that had what appeared to be hieroglyphics engraved on the lid and sides.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

The woman cast a look over her shoulder. “The ROM gift shop.”

“ROM?” Amber asked.

“Royal Ontario Museum. Last year they had this exhibit of the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead.” The woman frowned. “I think it’s over now. Too bad. I wouldn’t have minded seeing it again.”

“The box?” Kai urged.

She gave a dismissive wave. “I bought it in the gift shop. It was just sitting there, one of a kind.” She laughed. “Or maybe it was the last one they had, or something. There wasn’t even a price on it. But the cashier was going off shift and she seemed okay just sort of comparing it to some jewelry boxes that were about the same size and she charged me the same price and that was that.”

“What do you keep inside?” Kai asked, and Amber wondered at his interest. She knew the Underworld deity he worked for was Egyptian, so maybe that was the connection.

“Nothing.” Again, the woman glanced over her shoulder at the box, then turned back to face them. “It doesn’t open. I think it’s hollow because it isn’t that heavy, but I’ve looked and looked and I really can’t see a way to open it. There’s no secret catch or anything.”

“May I?” Kai asked, and held out his hand, palm up.

“Sure.”

She passed him the box. It was about the size and shape of four or five paperback novels stacked up.

A flicker of emotion danced across his features, and Amber felt like a cold wind blew against the back of her neck. Something felt odd about that box. The fine hairs at her nape rose as she watched Kai turn it with his long fingers, almost reverent in the way he handled it.

“I’d like to buy this from you,” he said.

The woman laughed. “Not for sale. Sorry. I swear, it’s my good-luck charm. Ever since I bought it, business here has been crazy good.”

Amber searched Kai’s face as he set the box on the counter. He seemed perfectly fine to let the matter go as they took their coffees to a table by the window, but she sensed his preoccupation, and she wondered at it.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He lifted his coffee and took a sip. “A-okay.”

“Why so interested in a knickknack?”

“Just a feeling it might be of interest to my boss.”

“Your boss?” He must mean Sutekh. She arched a brow. “He collects knickknacks?”

Kai offered a faint smile. “Something like that.” He nodded toward the street. “We’re going to head to Tesso’s when we’re done here,” he said, then lowered his voice. “It’s a bar around the corner, and it’s run by Topworlders who run prostitutes for Asmodeus. There will be a gentleman—a hint of sarcasm flavored the word—there tonight who has a particular tie. Big Ralph. I will not leave your side. I’ll invoke Sutekh’s protection to keep you safe. But I’m done with you having to run and hide. We’re going to find out what the hell is going on once and for all.” He paused and lifted his gaze to hers. “And then you’ll be free.”

But he would never be free. From all he’d said, she understood that much. He was sworn to Sutekh for eternity.

“I’m not sure I want to do this,” she said. But she knew it was time. Whether she liked it or not, it really was past time for her to confront her demons.

He closed his hand over hers. “Better this wa—”

“Hey,” the woman they’d spoken to earlier yelled. “Hey, give that back!”

Amber turned to see a guy with long greasy hair and baggy jeans tear toward the door. In his hand was the box Kai had been so interested in. She realized that the barista must have left it on the counter where Kai placed it earlier, rather than moving it back to the shelf above the cash register. And now some guy was stealing it.

Already on his feet and halfway to the door, Kai hesitated and spun back and faced her.

“Stay here,” he said, his expression torn, like he hated to leave her almost as much as he hated to let that box go.

Whatever was going on here was important to him.

The barista was still yelling, standing in the open door, obviously wanting to chase the thief down, but unwilling to leave the shop.

“Go,” Amber said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Stay put,” Kai said. Then he went.

They came for her less than ten minutes later. Amber couldn’t help but wonder how the whole thing had played out; she wondered if they’d set up that greasy haired guy to lure Kai from her side.

Five men surrounded her. She had no weapon and no way to run. She waited for the panic to set in, the certainty that the hunters would take her to a fate worse than death itself.

And there was fear, no doubt about that.

But the only thing she felt certain of was that Kai would come for her.

They flanked her on all sides as they led her from the coffee shop. She waited until a car was almost abreast of them, when she ducked to the left and darted in front of it. Tires squealed. A horn honked, loud and long. She heard the sound of cursing from behind her as she ran, feet slamming the pavement, heart pounding.

She remembered the direction Kai had told her Tesso’s lay, so she ran the opposite way, her breath coming in harsh rasps, her pulse racing from the combined jolt of fear and exertion.

Safety in numbers. She needed to find people, a crowd. They couldn’t take her in a crowd.

No, not true. They could, but it was likely they wouldn’t want witnesses. But there were no people, only empty streets.

Ducking into an alley, she darted behind a Dumpster, her hands on her knees as she fought to catch her breath. She looked around, feeling sick and afraid. And suddenly she was done with it.

Done with feeling sick and afraid.

Done with running.

The men her mother called hunters had chased her from place to place, driven her from her home again and again. They’d cost her years with Kai.

She had a feeling they were the ones who’d killed him.

Pushing up to her full height, she tipped her head back and stared at the sky.

She’d come here to find answers, and she wouldn’t find them hiding in an alley.

With a shake of her head, she walked out from behind the Dumpster, out the mouth of the alley, and paused, getting her bearings. Mentally, she retraced her steps and figured out where the coffee shop was, and with that in mind, she mapped a route to Tesso’s and started walking.

There was a burly guard at the door, and he eyed Amber sullenly. “No women,” he said. “Unless you’re a new recruit.”

The thought of that turned her stomach. “Tell Big Ralph that Amber Hale’s here for a visit,” she said.

If the guy’s eyebrows rose any higher, they’d have been floating above his head. He pulled open the door and stepped to the side. “Back room,” he said.

Heart pounding, Amber forced herself to stay calm, to scope the place as she walked through the main rooms toward the back. There was a hallway that led to the bathrooms and, she was betting, a rear exit. She couldn’t see any guards back there, but there was the bouncer up front and another by the door to what she guessed was the back room she’d been directed to.

His expression was blank as he opened the door and let her through. A ruckus behind her made her turn, and she saw the men who’d been sent to escort her getting a dressing down from the bouncer at the front.

Stepping into the room, she felt a drop in temperature and wrapped her arms around herself as the door swung shut behind her. The lighting was dim. A single low-wattage bulb in a floor lamp cast a small circle of light around a man sitting on a straight-backed chair in the center of the room. Before him was a stand-up mirror. He was lean and hard, and even though he was sitting down, she could see that he wasn’t overly tall.

“Big Ralph?” she asked.

“My reputation precedes me.” His mouth shaped an ugly smile. Then he leaned forward and she saw him start in surprise as she stepped into the circle of light and he got a look at her face. She wondered at that.

“You’ve been hunting me for a long time.”

“And you’ve been fucking hard to catch,” he snarled. “From what I hear, you stayed ahead of three of my predecessors.” He stared at her for a long moment, the seconds scratching by like nails on a chalkboard. “Funny, you don’t look like you’re a hundred years old.”

So he knew what she was.

She suspected he knew things about her that she didn’t know about herself. A spark of fury pushed aside a bit of her fear.

She noticed then that his knuckles were split and scabbed, like he’d recently been in a fight, and his face was weathered. He was mortal. He could die.

And she couldn’t.

This was what she’d been afraid of? This man who could bleed and hurt and die?

“What do you want with me?”

He held up his hands, palms forward. “Look,” he said. “Parents and kids fight. I got a son, myself. Sometimes, I give him a shot to the head because it’s the only way he’ll learn. He gets pissed. He takes off. Then he gets over it and comes back. It’s time you got over it.”

She felt like she was falling down the rabbit hole, head first. Or maybe she’d already landed on her head and this whole thing was a hallucination.

An incredulous laugh escaped her. “What are you talking about? You and your…predecessors have been hunting me for a century and you want to talk to me about your son?”

He blinked, looking nonplussed.

“He doesn’t want to talk to you about his son,” Kai’s voice came from behind her. She spun, a surge of emotion buffeting her, a convoluted mix of love and gratitude and relief. He’d come for her just as he’d promised. And she hadn’t doubted that he would.

“I told you to stay put,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze intent as it slid over her features like a caress.

She was so glad to see him, it almost hurt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” she said, and offered a small smile. He returned it, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light. “Did you collect what you were after?” she asked.

“I did. Safe and sound.”

“You’re outside your turf,” Big Ralph rose from the chair, his stance aggressive.

“Not your call,” Kai said, and his gaze flicked to the mirror. “I have a feeling this is one time we can talk things out like gentlemen.”

There was an undercurrent here she didn’t understand, and it made her wary.

“What’s going on?” Amber asked.

“See for yourself,” Big Ralph said, and spun the mirror to face her.

For a second, she thought she was looking at a reflection of herself. Then she realized it was a young man in the mirror. And he looked like a tall, muscled version of…her. The eyes were the same. The nose. The mouth. His chin was stronger, more masculine. His cheekbones more chiseled. He could be her brother. Or her—

“He’s your father,” Kai said softly. “It’s a doorway to the Underworld. He’s a demon. He can’t come Topworld unless he’s summoned and slips into a human’s skin.”

For a long moment, there was only a roaring in her ears and a feeling of stunned disorientation. She didn’t understand what he was saying. And then she did.

Her father. A demon. The demon of lust. Who ran prostitutes and drugs and who knew what else.

Panting, she spun to face Kai, then spun back to the mirror.

The image stared back at her, and he smiled.

She felt like her whole world was turning on its axis, while at the same time suddenly everything made sense.

“How long have you known?” she asked Kai.

“With certainty? Only now, when I walked in this room. But I suspected when you held the darksoul on its tether. There are only two beings that can hold spun energy like that. Soul reapers. And demons. Soul reapers are all male. Which left—”

“A demon’s daughter,” she whispered. Sin’s daughter.

Kai caught her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. “Amber,” he said, waiting until she met his gaze before he continued. “It doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t change anything at all.”

But it did. It changed everything. She didn’t need to run. Her mother had been wrong.

“Your mother was displeased when she learned my true nature. She was determined to keep you from me, and she was quite adept, it seems,” Asmodeus said, his voice soothing and rich, like warm cocoa. “I have been waiting a century to meet you, daughter mine.”

“You sent people to kill me,” Amber pointed out, shaking as the full impact of her discovery hit her. “And you wonder why my mother kept you from me?”

His expression tightened. “I sent no one to kill you. They were to retrieve you. Bring you to me. Had you stayed in one place long enough to listen—”

“Stay in one place when they came for me with knives and guns?”

Asmodeus made a dismissive gesture. “To subdue. They were human. You are not. What value do their weapons have against you?”

“What value?” She stared at him, seeing the genuine perplexity in his expression. He was so far from human, he had no clue. “They killed Kai,” she said flatly.

“He is not dead now,” Asmodeus said with a dismissive wave, clearly not seeing the problem.

Kai made a strangled sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh. She remembered using almost the exact same words to him.

“They stole fifty years from us.”

Asmodeus turned his gaze to her, and suddenly he looked ancient. His face was unchanged, but something in his eyes reflected the knowledge of ages. “You stole fifty years from yourselves, blaming each other, doubting each other.” He gave a lazy, one-shouldered shrug. “A blink. You have eternity to correct your mistakes.”

His gaze slid to Kai. “What payment do you wish, soul reaper? You have succeeded where all others failed. You have brought my daughter to me. You have delivered her. You deserve your bounty. State your demand, and then leave.”

Amber felt like her heart plummeted to her toes. She turned to Kai, feeling ill. What was this? Had it been his plan all along, to deliver her to Asmodeus for a reward, to—

She lifted her gaze to find him watching her, and his mouth curved in a wicked smile, white teeth flashing. In that second she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I have my reward.” And he drew her to him.

Epilogue

“Close your eyes,” Kai said. “I have a surprise.”

“I hate surprises.”

“You loved your surprise last night.” He leaned in and nipped at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Amber gave a soft yelp, and he smiled to himself as he turned her and kissed her and she melted in his arms.

“Only because you were my surprise,” she murmured. “I thought you couldn’t come back until next week.”

“Time off for good behavior.” It was nothing less than the truth.

What could have been an utter disaster that led to his destruction had in fact turned out to be a boon. Kai was mated to Asmodeus’s daughter, and rather than see that as a bad thing, Sutekh had seen it as a political advantage. A soul reaper linked to another Underworld lord. While not nearly as powerful as Sutekh, Asmodeus was a valuable ally.

Kai had always been free to come and go between Topworld and Underworld at will; all soul reapers could. But somehow, he’d gained favor by following his heart’s dream. He wasn’t about to question the golden horseshoe shoved up his ass.

And Amber had been thawing a bit toward her father’s attempts to get to know her. Not much. But a little.

“Close your eyes,” Kai said again, and Amber complied.

He led her outside, onto the street.

“Open.” He couldn’t keep the smile from his voice.

“That’s your—”

“Mint-condition 1960 Corvette convertible,” he finished for her. “Thanks to Nick at Custom Autobody.” Then he pulled open the door.

Sitting on the seat was a massive bouquet of daisies tied with a purple silk scarf.

“Happy first day of the rest of our lives,” he murmured, and lowered his mouth to hers.

“Happy first day of forever, my love,” she whispered against his lips.

If you liked this story, don’t miss Eve Silver’s Otherkin trilogy—Sins of the Heart, Sins of the Soul and Sins of the Flesh—from HQN Books.

Turn the page for an excerpt from Sins of the Heart…

Sins of the Heart

Half human, half god, Dagan Krayl is the Underworld’s most powerful soul reaper. When one of his brothers is murdered, Dagan must use every ounce of his power to hunt down those responsible for his brutal death. But he must move swiftly—and carefully—if he’s to have any chance of resurrecting his brother.

Yet that resurrection could wreak havoc on the mortal world. As an Otherkin, Roxy Tam has sworn to protect the human race, and it’s her mission to stop Dagan. But when she sees him face-to-face, she realizes that she has seen him once before—a meeting that changed her life forever.

Neither Dagan nor Roxy expect to join forces for the sake of mankind. Or to have their loyalties tested as they struggle against the potent desire that threatens to consume them both….

Chapter One

In the far corner of a room in the basement of an abandoned factory, a woman huddled on a filthy mattress. Her wrists and ankles were bound by yellow nylon rope. Her head was bowed, dark, glossy ringlets falling forward to obscure her face. The harsh glare of the naked overhead bulb accented the curved line of her back.

Terror had a way of making mortals scream.

Dagan Krayl wondered why this one wasn’t.

He shifted to get a better view through the half-inch crack in the door. Small, bare room. Concrete floor. Particleboard walls. No windows.

There were stains on the mattress. Old stains, reddish-brown, dark and stiff. Someone’s blood.

Not hers.

Not yet.

But whoever had left her here would be back. So she had reason enough to be terrified. Reason enough to scream. Human females cried. And, at times, human males. But not this female.

Both her silence and her odd movements piqued Dagan’s curiosity. Her head bobbed like a buoy in choppy water. Up. Down. He could hear the distinct rasp of each breath, more scrape than sob, accompanied by a muted grinding.

What the hell was she doing? From this position, he couldn’t tell.

She paused, shifted a bit to one side and rolled her shoulder up against her cheek to push back the long, corkscrew strands of her hair. Then she dipped her head and went back to her task. The grinding resumed, and he realized that she was gnawing at the rope with her teeth, making a play for freedom.

A flicker of interest ignited. It appeared that despite the desperation of her circumstances her spirit was tattered but not crushed.

A fighting spirit.

Something to be admired.

He blinked, startled by the thought. She was none of his concern. He was here to harvest and kill.

But not her.

The prey he sought had a tarnished soul, one smeared with the worst sort of slime, the accumulated malfeasance and malady of a lifetime. Nothing less would satisfy dear old Dad. Sutekh, the Lord of Chaos. He dined only on malevolence and vice. Evil was the delicacy he craved.

As a soul reaper, Dagan was tasked with providing it. He was not just any soul reaper, but Sutekh’s eldest son. The old man had a small army of soul reapers to harvest for him, but he had only four sons, and he had exacting expectations of his progeny.

He glanced over his shoulder down the narrow, dark corridor. He’d already checked the massive empty space upstairs. Only the underground bowels of the abandoned factory remained unexplored. His prey was here somewhere, and he ought to continue the hunt, not stand here watching the woman.

But something kept him from leaving her and prowling off in search of a darksoul. He knew what it felt like to struggle and strive, to ache for freedom. Be careful what you wish for—wasn’t that a common mortal adage? Freedom wasn’t always delicious.

Reaching into the back pocket of his faded, torn jeans, he took out a lollipop. The clear plastic wrapper crinkled as he pulled it off. He popped the sucker in his mouth and waited—flavor exploded. Coconut…pineapple. Piña colada. Not his favorite. He’d remember that next time.

He folded the cellophane in half, then quarters and shoved it in his pocket, because littering went against his grain, even in this condemned shithole of an abandoned factory in Chicago’s far South Side. The clear paper crinkled and crunched in the quiet.

The woman’s head jerked up. She must have heard the sound.

She turned her face toward him, blinked a couple of times and then froze. He didn’t know if she cold see him, but she definitely heard him. That was a surprise.

A long scratch marked her neck and a fresh bruise darkened her right cheek, swollen and red against the smooth toffee cream of her skin. She’d been roughed up a bit, but she still had her clothes on. Didn’t look like she’d been raped. Yet.

Dagan figured she had to count that as a good thing.

She wasn’t gagged. Her captor hadn’t bothered, either because there was no one around to hear her or because the guy liked to listen to her scream. Only she wasn’t. Screaming.

He found that interesting.

Stepping deeper into the room, Dagan lifted his finger to his lips—stay quiet—and reached back to pull the door closed behind him. He wasn’t sure why he wanted her quiet. Letting her scream would only bring her captor running, which would save Dagan the trouble of hunting him down. But he wanted a moment with her. One moment.

Why? One moment to do what? He came up with fuck-all for an answer.

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Beautiful eyes, green and bronze, the shape almond tipped. The color was startling against her dark skin and even darker lashes.

For an instant, he saw only her eyes, tiger fierce. The room disappeared, and he saw only those eyes. They reached inside him, found something he hadn’t known he’d lost, hadn’t known he had in the first place.

The instant passed, leaving his pulse beating a little harder, his breath coming a little faster. He recognized that the source wasn’t mere sexual attraction. It was…something else.

His gaze dipped to her mouth—full lips, lush and plump—and dipped lower to follow the thick silver chain that snaked beneath the neckline of her dirt-smeared tank top to disappear between the generous swell of her breasts. The room was like a meat locker, and the distinct outline of her nipples left no doubt that she was cold. He was in no hurry to look away; he couldn’t help but appreciate the view.

I could warm her, ease her fear.

The uncharacteristic thought held distinct appeal.

Her breasts rose and fell with each rapid breath. He dragged his gaze away, let it rake her at a more leisurely pace, and he felt a distinct unease as he noticed things he’d missed the first time around. Things like incredibly smooth, taut skin. Not a wrinkle. Not a line. Not a single flaw.

Hell. He had no business staring at her breasts, her nipples. He saw now that she wasn’t a woman at all. Barely more than a kid. Nineteen, maybe twenty.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” She frowned. “And a half.”

And a half. That sealed the deal. Too young. She was far too young for him. And mortal, to boot. He generally didn’t bother with mortals. They were too…human. There were more than enough female genies and demigods in the Underworld to choose from if he needed to scratch an itch.

But he’d pulled his gaze away too late. She’d seen exactly where his attention had strayed.

“Old enough to put up a fight.” Her voice was low and fierce. “You won’t get any without a fight, white boy.”

His gaze flicked to the yellow ropes that bound her. “I’m not in the habit of tying my lovers up.” A slow smile curved his lips. “Unless they ask.”

“I’m not asking.”

She stared at him, her posture and expression putting him in mind of a cornered cat. Ready to fight. Claws. Teeth. Whatever it took.

Guts and grit. And beauty. He found the combination

appealing. Nineteen. And a half.

“Fuck.” He was here to harvest a darksoul, not think about getting laid, and he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that the faster he got done and got going, the better. He set his teeth against the lollipop, sheared off a shard of candy and ground it between his molars.

“Fuck,” she echoed. “Yeah, that about sums it up, vanilla bean.”

He didn’t surprise easily, but that did the trick. She’d been beaten, bound and left to stew in her own terror, but she had the brass balls left to call him vanilla bean.

And white boy.

He’d been called worse. With reason.

“You in this with him?” Despite the show of bravado, the question held a telltale tremble.

He took the lollipop from his mouth, studied her for a second, then popped the candy back in and used his tongue to push it off to one side. She held perfectly still, only her eyes moving as she tracked his actions. “By him, I assume you mean your captor.” At her

sharp nod, he finished, “No, I’m not in it with him.”

Hope flickered to life in her eyes. “You here to free me?”

“Free you?” He almost laughed. “No.” If she were looking for a savior, she was in for disappointment. No one was coming. No one but him. Which was unfortunate for her.

At his answer, her cheeks paled, but her chin kicked up a little higher. “You gonna kill me, then?” Her eyes narrowed. “’Cause if y’are, get in line. I think the asshole who tied me up will call dibs.”

Not tonight, he wouldn’t. Dagan had no intention of letting the bastard touch her.

The second the thought formed, he ground it to dust beneath his boot. He wasn’t here to protect this oddly alluring girl. He was here to kill and take what he needed—a darksoul to feed Sutekh’s power.

But not from her. Her soul was bright as a xenon arc lamp. Sutekh would cough it up like a hairball.

“This isn’t your night to die.”

“Real talk?” She tipped her head and thrust one shoulder back in a cocky pose. Almost made him believe it. More bravado. And still no tears.

Interesting.

“Real talk?” he echoed, floundering. Then he realized she was asking if he was telling the truth. “I’m not here for you. I came for a darksoul.”

She frowned at the term but didn’t ask for an explanation. She had other things on her mind. “Good for you. Maybe you could help me with this little inconvenience first?” Her voice dripped sarcasm. Jerking her bound hands up, she separated them by the quarter

inch the rope allowed and winced as it rubbed her already chaffed skin. “You got a knife?”

As he stared at the red, inflamed marks that braceletted her wrists, something odd and unfamiliar raised its head and uncoiled deep inside him. He’d seen thousands of wounds, caused most of them himself. But the sight of her beautiful brown skin, abraded and bloody, was…unsettling. He felt a second’s disorientation. He had no reason to care about her pain.

“A knife?” she prompted. And he heard asshole implied in her tone. Or maybe dickhead.

“No knife.” He didn’t need one. In three strides he closed the space between them. He took the rolled paper lollipop stick from between his lips, tucked it away in his pocket then hunkered down and caught the rope in his fist. Her pupils dilated and she gasped. Every muscle in her sleek frame tensed. But she didn’t jerk away. Only watched him with those incredible eyes.

A sound carried from the hallway. Footsteps.

“Cut me loose!” she hissed.

“After.” He was already rising and backing away.

“After what?” Her breath came in short, sharp pants, her gaze flicking to the closed door, her fear clearly escalating. Bemused, he wondered why she was all swagger and sass talking to him, but she was terrified of the human in the hallway. She had her priorities ass-backwards.

Lifting a finger to his lips once more, Dagan cautioned her to silence as he eased back into the narrow space between the door frame and the wall. If she were smart, she’d be quiet. If she gave him away, it would only make his job…messier.

Jaw clenched, fingers curled into her palms, she followed his movements and offered a short nod as, with a creak, the door opened halfway. A blonde in tight jeans and stilettos sashayed into the room, shouldering the door fully open. Close behind her was a tall man, dressed all in black, greasy brown hair hanging lank to his shoulders. He had one hand clasped tight around the blonde’s wrist, the other holding a long hunting knife down by his thigh.

The girl on the mattress lurched up and rasped, “Marcie! You’re alive. Oh, thank God.”

Marcie froze, and the guy holding her tightened his grip.

Looked like the bastard meant to rape and murder not one girl but two.

Ambitious.

Disgust curdled in Dagan’s gut. He was as far from good as anyone could be, but he did have a code. He always settled his debts. His word was his law. He refused to lie. And he sure as sugar never fucked girls barely out of high school then slit their throats.

Marcie tossed her hair back from her face and cocked one hip to the side. She had a hard look about her, like she knew the score and liked it that way. Turning her head, she slanted a glance toward the mattress and the girl.

That was all.

Just a glance.

No expression at all.

Not horror. Not fear. Not empathy.

Understanding arrowed deep, a sharp, bright barb, and Dagan narrowed his eyes, seeing things with new clarity.

Marcie wasn’t bound. She didn’t lean away from the grasp of her tormentor; instead, she relaxed into his grip. The way she held herself, shoulders back, head high, was anything but fearful. And her lips were curved in the faintest smile.

Well, fuck me raw.

The bastard didn’t have two girls captive. He had one girl he was all set to rape and murder.

And one girl who was all set to help him.

Forbidden alliances…inescapable desires…

Don’t miss the darkly sexy new Otherkin series from Eve Silver and HQN Books:

Sins of the Heart

(August 2010)

Sins of the Soul

(September 2010)

Sins of the Flesh

(October 2010)

National bestselling author Eve Silver has been praised for her “edgy, steamy, action-packed” books, darkly sexy heroes and take-charge heroines. Her work has garnered starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Library Journal, plus two RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Awards, and in 2007 she received Library Journal’s Best Genre Fiction Award.

Eve lives with her husband, two sons, an energetic Airedale terrier, an exuberant border collie/shepherd and an enormous rabbit.

To learn more about Eve and her books, please visit www.EveSilver.net.

Or follow Eve on Twitter at www.twitter.com/Eve_Silver

ISBN: 978-1-4268-6535-0

Sin’s Daughter

Copyright © 2010 by Eve Silver

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