About the Author

GENA SHOWALTER

is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author whose teen novels have been featured on MTV and in Seventeen magazine and have been praised as “unputdownable.” Growing up, she always had her nose buried in a book. When it came time to buckle down and get a job, she knew writing was it for her. Gena lives in Oklahoma with her family and three slobbery English bulldogs. Become her friend on MySpace, or a fan on Facebook and visit her at GenaShowalter.com/young-adult.

Twisted

Gena Showalter

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To the usual suspects: Haden, Seth, Chloe, Riley, Victoria, Nathan, Meg, Parks, Lauren, Stephanie, Brittany, and Brianna. What can I say, guys? In a world where I am Queen Decision Maker, fangs sprout. Claws grow. Dark descends. You’re welcome.

Once again to The Awesome, editor Natashya Wilson, for her brilliant insight and dedicated beyond-the-call-of-dutying. Yes, I just made that entire phrase a verb. Not once did she freak out when I said, “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out later.” (Which pretty much sums up my writing process.)

To the wonderful folks at Harlequin, who took me in and made me one of their own!

To P.C. Cast, Rachel Caine, Marley Gibson, Rosemary Clement-Moore, Linda Gerber and Tina Ferraro for helping me run the Unravelled puzzle contest last year. Such a blast. I owe you, ladies!

To Pennye Edwards, the best mother-in-law a girl could have. Honest to God, she kept me sane while I was writing this book. Well, as sane as a girl like me can be.

To my Love Bunny. When I locked myself in my writing cave, he made sure the beast was fed. Even if he had to slide the food under the door and run for his life.

To Jill Monroe and Kresley Cole. If I wasn’t already married, and they weren’t already married, I’d marry them. For reals.

And this time, I’m not going to dedicate the book to myself, but to L’Oréal hair colour (medium to dark brown). After writing this book, I needed this miracle worker more than ever.

ONE

ADEN STONE STARED DOWN at the girl sleeping on the rocky dais. Long hair the color of a wintry midnight, dark yet glimmering like the moonlight on snow, spilled over slender shoulders. Spiky black lashes cast shadows over high, model-sharp cheekbones. Lush pink lips glistened with a sheen of moisture.

He’d watched her lick those lips several times, and he knew. Even lost to slumber as she was, she scented something delicious and craved a taste.

Taste … Yes …

Her skin was snow-white yet constantly flushed a deep rose in all the right places. Not one flaw did she possess. Not a single line or wrinkle—even though she was over eighty years old.

Young, for her kind.

She wore a tattered black robe that draped from just under her arms to the tips of her toes. Or would have, if she hadn’t rucked the material up one of her legs. The slender limb was bent and angled outward. A feast for his gaze, perhaps even an I-want-you-to-drink-from-the-vein-in-my-thigh invitation.

He should resist.

He couldn’t resist.

She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Fragile-looking, dainty. Like a priceless piece of art in the one and only museum he’d ever toured. The curator had slapped his hand for trying to touch something he shouldn’t.

No need to guard this one, he thought with a small smile. She could protect herself, snapping a man’s neck with a single twist of her wrist.

She was a vampire. His vampire. His sickness and his cure.

Aden placed one of his knees on the makeshift bed. The T-shirt that stretched underneath the girl, cushioning her ever so slightly, snagged underneath his weight and pulled tight, rolling her in his direction. She didn’t moan or utter a breathy sigh as a human might have done. She was quiet, eerily so. Her expression remained the same: serene, innocent … trusting.

You shouldn’t do this.

He was going to do this.

He wore a pair of ripped, bloodstained jeans. The same jeans he’d worn the night of their first date. The night his entire world changed. She wore the robe and nothing else. Sometimes their clothing was the only thing that kept them from doing more than drinking from each other.

Drinking from each other. Or “feeding.” So mild a word for what happened. He would never purposely hurt her, but when the madness came upon him—hell, when the madness came upon her—affection was forgotten. They became animals.

You shouldn’t do this, what was left of his conscience repeated.

One more drink, and I’ll leave her alone.

That’s what you said last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

Yeah, but I mean it this time. He hoped.

Once, he would have been talking to the three souls trapped inside his head. But they weren’t inside his head anymore, they were inside hers, and he’d reverted to talking to himself. At least until the monster awoke. An honest to God monster, prowling through his conscious, roaring, desperate for blood. The monster the sleeping girl had inadvertently given him, the monster responsible for his new favorite sport—jugular tapping. Then he didn’t talk to anyone at all.

Down … down Aden leaned until his chest flattened against the vampire’s. He placed his hands at her temples and balanced his weight. The tips of their noses were a mere whisper apart, yet he wanted to be closer to her. Always closer.

He applied more pressure to his left hand, the soft strands of her hair pulling as tight as the T-shirt had done, causing her head to loll in that direction and exposing the elegant length of her neck. At the base, her pulse thumped steadily.

Unlike the bloodsuckers of myth, she was not dead. She was a living, breathing being, born rather than created, and more alive than anyone he’d ever met. Unless he accidently killed her, of course. I won’t.

You might. Don’t do this. Just a sip …

His mouth watered. He inhaled … and felt as if he were breathing for the very first time. Everything was so new, wondrous … he held the breath … held … could almost taste the sweetness of her blood already … slowly released. No relief was forthcoming, just an increased awareness of that ever-present hunger. He ran his tongue over his teeth, his aching gums. He didn’t have fangs, but, oh, he wanted to bite her. Wanted to drink her down. Savor, drink again. Drink, drink, drink.

Even without fangs, he could bite her. And, if she were human, he could drain her dry. But because she was vampire, her skin was as hard and smooth as polished ivory. Reaching a vein with his teeth was impossible. He needed je la nune, the only substance capable of burning through that ivory. Problem was, they’d run out. Now, there was only one way to get what he wanted.

“Victoria,” he rasped.

She must not have recovered from their last interlude, because she gave no indication that she heard him. A flicker of guilt pierced his hunger. He should get up, move away from her. Let her rest, recover. She’d fed him so much blood over the past few days—weeks? years?—she couldn’t have much left.

“Victoria.” He couldn’t stop her name from rolling off his tongue. The hunger … truly, it never left him. Only grew, slithering around him, clamping down on his soul. Still. He’d take just a drop, the taste he’d promised himself, and then he would at last leave her alone. She could go back to sleep.

Until he needed more.

You won’t take any more, remember? This is the last time.

“Wake up for me, sweetheart.” He pressed their lips together, harder than he’d intended. A kiss for his Sleeping Beauty.

Like the girl in the fairy tale, Victoria blinked open her lids, the length of her lashes separating, connecting, separating for good. Then he was peering into eyes of the purest crystal. Deep, fathomless. Glazed with a hunger of their own.

“Aden?” She stretched like a kitten, her arms rising above her head, her back arching. A purr rumbled from her throat. “Is it bad again?”

The robe gaped over her chest, just a little, but enough, and he caught a glimpse of the tattoo etched above her heart. A faded black—soon to disappear altogether, just as her others had done—with multiple circles swirling into each other and connecting in the middle. Not just a pretty decoration, but a ward, a spell inked into her skin to protect her against death, and the only thing that had saved her life as she’d poured most of her blood down his throat that first time.

He wished he knew how long ago that was, but time had ceased to exist for him. There was only here and now and her. Always her. Always this, the hunger and the thirst blending into a feral, consuming urge.

Her knee came up to rest against his hip bone, and he settled more firmly against her. Such an intimate position. No time to enjoy. They had a minute, maybe two, before the voices would destroy her concentration and the roar of the beast would claim his.

A minute before they both became as dark as their natures demanded.

“Please,” was all he said. Black spiderwebs were forming in his line of vision, thickening, closing in, until her neck was all that he could see. The ache in his gums was unbearable, and he was afraid he was drooling.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. She wound her arms around him, her nails sinking into his scalp, and drew him down for a kiss.

Their tongues met, thrust together, and for a moment, he lost himself in her sweetness. She was rich chocolate smoothly mixed with chili peppers, creamy yet spicy.

If only he were simply a boy and she were simply a girl, they would kiss, and he would try for more. She might deny him. She might beg him to continue. Either way, they would care only about each other. Now, as they were, nothing mattered more than the blood.

“Ready?” she breathed. She was his dealer, his supplier and his drug, all wrapped in the same irresistible package. He wanted to hate her for that. Part of him—the new, sinister part—did hate her. The rest of him loved her immeasurably.

Sadly, he feared the two parts would one day war.

Someone always died in a war.

“Ready?” she asked again.

“Do it.” A growl so hoarse he sounded more animal than human.

Was he human anymore? He’d been a magnet for the paranormal his entire life. Maybe he’d never been human. Not that he cared about the answer right now.

Blood.

The ferocity of their kiss increased. Without pulling away, Victoria flicked her tongue across her fangs, cutting the tissue straight down the center. Nectar of the gods welled, the taste of chocolate and spice instantly replaced by champagne and honey, intoxicating him. His head swam with dizziness as his body temperature rose.

He sucked the blood quickly, before her wound had time to close, taking every drop he could, every swallow ringing a groan of rapture from him. His temperature rose another degree, another still, until fire poured through him, burning him up, scorching him to ash.

He recognized the sensation. Not too long ago, his mind had merged with that of a male vampire. A vampire roasting inside a death pyre. Aden had felt as if he were the one drenched in flames.

Soon after that, his mind had merged with a fairy’s. A fairy with a knife in his chest, the beat of his heart no longer saving him but destroying him, the blade sinking deeper and deeper.

Both instances had been a lesson in pain, but neither compared to Aden’s own stabbing, when his body had been the one violated. And if not for the girl beneath him, he would have died.

He and Victoria had thought to celebrate their victory against a coven of witches and a contingent of fairies … alone, together. From the shadows had jumped a demon in human skin, his knife embedded in Aden’s chest—yes, everyone always went for the heart—before he could blink.

Victoria should have let him go. His stabbing had been predicted by one of the souls. Aden had expected it. He might not have been prepared for it, but he had known he wasn’t meant to have a future beyond that point.

And really, he and Victoria would have been better off if she’d let him go. Fact: you didn’t mess with fate without paying a price. He should be dead, and Victoria should be free of his baggage. But panic had bloomed inside her. He knew, because he remembered the high-pitched tenor of her screams. Could still feel the way her hands had clutched at him, shaking him as life flowed out of him. Worse, he could still feel the white-hot tears slipping from her face onto his.

Now, she was paying for her actions. She might continue to pay until Aden accidentally killed her—or until she killed him. A life for a life. Wasn’t that how the universe worked?

This time, he expected to die from the inferno Victoria’s blood was creating inside him. Instead, he found himself … calming. Not just calming, but thriving, his limbs growing stronger, his bones vibrating with energy, his muscles flexing with purpose.

This had never happened during a feeding. Wasn’t supposed to happen now. They drank, they fought and they passed out. He didn’t recharge like a battery.

When the blood on her tongue dried up—far too soon—he was reminded of his need, need, need now, and he stopped worrying about the repercussions, stopped caring about his reactions.

“Victoria,” he croaked.

“More?” she asked, breath emerging shallowly. Her nails were leaving track marks down his nape and along his shoulders. The hunger must be coming upon her, too.

Even without her monster, the beating heart of her vampire nature and the driving force of Aden’s new menu selection, she craved blood. Maybe because it was all she’d ever known. Maybe because she was as addicted as he was.

“More,” he confirmed.

Once again she razed her tongue against her fangs. A new wound opened up. Blood welled, though not as much and not as quickly. Still he sucked and sucked and sucked.

Not enough, not enough, never enough.

Within seconds the blood stopped leaking. He didn’t want to hurt her, couldn’t let himself hurt her, but he found himself biting her tongue; unlike her skin, this flesh was soft and malleable. She moaned, but not in pain. He’d accidentally cut his tongue, too, and his blood was trickling into her mouth.

“More,” she said, a demand now.

His hands tangled in the silky length of her hair, fisted. He angled her head, allowing deeper access for them both. So good.

She’d once told him humans died when vampires attempted to turn them. She’d also mentioned that the vampires attempting the turning died as well. At the time, he hadn’t understood why.

Now, he understood—but the knowledge cost him.

When she’d taken what remained of his blood and poured her own straight into his mouth, they’d done more than swap DNA, more than trade his souls for her monster. They’d swapped and traded everything. Memories, likes, dislikes, abilities and desires, back and forth, back and forth, until he sometimes couldn’t tell what was his and what was hers.

Had he once been whipped with a cat-o’-nine-tails? Had he once drained a human to death? Had he once stumbled upon a sick shape-shifting bear clan and doctored them to health?

A muted rumble—a yawn?—in the back of his mind claimed his attention. The monster. Actually, demon was a better description for Chompers. Aden felt utterly possessed by him. A feeling he should have been used to. Only, Chompers was nothing like the souls—he wasn’t affable like Julian, perverted like Caleb, or caring like Elijah. Chompers thought only of blood and pain. The taking of blood—and the giving of pain.

When he took over, Aden became more predator than man. He hated himself as much as he hated Victoria. Which was surreal. Chompers adored Aden. He truly did. He enjoyed being inside Aden’s mind and didn’t fight to leave him as he’d always fought Victoria. But even still, Chompers had a violent temperament, and that violent temperament demanded its due.

Sometimes Aden and Victoria switched back, the souls returning to him, Chompers returning to her. They would quickly switch again, however. And again and again and again. And each time edged them closer and closer to insanity. Too many memories swirling together, too many conflicting needs. One day soon, they would tumble off that edge completely.

“Aden,” Victoria said, panting, his name broken. “I must … have to …”

He knew what came next.

She angled his head, just as he’d done to her, and a moment later, her mouth left his. He didn’t like that. Her fangs sank into his jugular. He didn’t like that, either, and hissed out a breath. Once upon a time, her bite had felt good. In her mindless state of hunger, she’d lost her finesse, and those fangs sliced into a tendon. He didn’t try to stop her, though. She needed to drink just as much as he did.

Footsteps echoed through their cave, resonating like a buzzer.

Aden didn’t panic. Victoria could teleport anywhere she’d been before, had even whisked them here the night of his stabbing. He didn’t know where “here” was, or when she’d visited, he knew only that hikers occasionally wandered inside. None had ever traveled this far and this deep, and he doubted that would change.

He and Victoria could have gone somewhere else, he supposed, somewhere even more remote. Might have been safer, being as far away from civilization as possible. There was a target on Aden’s back, after all, Victoria’s father having come back from the dead to reclaim his throne. Or rather, Vlad the Impaler was trying to reclaim the throne.

Aden might be human—emphasis on might—but he was now the vampire king. He’d killed for the right to rule. So, he would be reclaiming the throne. Just as soon as he could wean himself from Victoria’s blood.

His thoughts, he wondered, or the monster’s?

His, he decided next. Had to be his. He wanted to be king as intently as he wanted to feed.

You didn’t before. In fact, he’d been on the hunt for a replacement.

That was before. Besides, there at the end, I had started to make plans for my people. His people?

That was the adrenaline talking.

Yeah? And this is me talking—shut up.

The footsteps reverberated, closer … closer …

Victoria ripped her fangs from his neck and hissed at the only entrance to the cavern. Normally, if she were lucid, she would simply compel visitors away before they could step inside. Her voice was powerful, and no one human could resist doing what she commanded. Except Aden. He must have built up an immunity to that voice, because she could no longer work her magic on him. She’d tried, here in the cave, every time the madness had come upon her. Tilt your head, offer your neck … Yet he’d done only what he wanted.

“If the human comes any closer, I will eat his liver and rip out his heart,” she snarled.

A threat she wouldn’t see through, Aden didn’t think. These past few days—years?—she craved only Aden’s blood, as he craved only hers. He could always smell the hikers the moment they entered the winding maze of the caves, just as he knew Victoria could, but the thought of drinking from one of them, even to save his life, caused acid and bile to churn in his stomach. And yet, they were the reason he stayed in this location. If he or Victoria ever needed someone else’s blood, whether they wanted it or not, they could get it.

Footsteps, closer and closer still, hurried now, determined. “Is someone back there?” The man’s voice was slightly accented. Spanish, perhaps. “I mean you no harm. I heard voices and thought you might need some help.”

Victoria was off the dais, and a second later Aden was smashing face-first into the thin T-shirt she’d used as a cushion. A tall, lanky man with dark hair and skin, perhaps forty years old, stepped into their private sanctuary. Victoria latched onto the human’s shirt, moving so swiftly Aden saw only a blur. The guy’s backpack rattled against his canteen of water. With a flick of her wrist—see?—she flung him deeper inside.

He landed with a hard thud, skidding backward until he hit the wall. Instinctively he rolled and sat up. Confusion and fear battled for supremacy in his expression.

“What—” He held out his hands in a protective gesture.

Another blur of motion, and Victoria was crouched in front of him, gripping his chin. Aden’s blood dripped from the corners of her mouth. That jet-black hair was a wild tangle around her head, and her fangs extended past her upper lip, cutting into the bottom one. She was a hauntingly lovely sight, as nightmarish as she was angelic.

Little beads of sweat broke out over the man’s brow. His eyes widened, fear finally winning and glazing his irises. His chest rose and fell quickly, shallowly, his breath wheezing from his nostrils.

“I—I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to … will leave … never tell … swear … just let me go … please, please.”

Victoria continued to study him as if he were a rat in a wheel.

“Tell him to go away,” Aden said. “Tell him to forget.” She would despise herself if she hurt an innocent human. One day. Not today, probably not tomorrow, but one day, when their wits returned.

If they returned.

Silence. Her fingers tightened on the man. So much so, he grimaced in pain, bruises already branching along his jaw.

Aden opened his mouth to issue another command, but in the back of his mind, he heard another rumble. Stronger this time, more than a yawn. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Chompers had awakened.

A sense of urgency filled Aden. “Victoria. Now! Or I swear I’ll never feed you again.”

Another beat of silence, then, “You will go away,” she said, thrums of subdued power wafting from her voice. Why subdued? “You saw no one, spoke to no one.”

Unlike before, several seconds passed before the human responded to her command. In the end, his brown eyes dulled, and his pupils contracted. “No trouble,” he said in a monotone. “Leave. No one.”

“Good,” she said, anger pulsing from her now. Her arm fell to her side. “Go. Before it’s too late.”

He stood. Walked to the entrance. Exited without looking back. He would never know how close he’d come to dying.

The rumble in Aden’s head intensified yet again. Any moment now, and the rumble would become—

A roar.

So loud, consuming, rocking him to his soul. Aden covered his ears, hoping to block the sound, even though he knew how ineffective the action was. Louder and louder, the roar became a scream, high-pitched, slashing through his mind like a razor until his thoughts broke apart and two words hacked their way to center stage.

Feed.

Destroy.

No, no, no. I did feed, he said to Chompers. Let’s not—

FEED. DESTROY.

The spiderwebs returned to his vision, interspaced with red. Both zeroed in on Victoria. Still she crouched, her gaze leveled on him, wary. She knew what would happen next.

FEEDDESTROY.

Yes. Aden rolled from the rocky dais and settled his weight on unsteady legs. Victoria unfolded to her full height, reed slender and lovely. Wild. Her hands curled into fists. He’d just eaten, true, but he needed more. Had to have more.

“Feed,” he heard himself say, two voices layered together, one familiar, the other smoky and harsh. Fight this, he had to fight this. Couldn’t let Chompers tug his puppet strings.

A whimper escaped Victoria as she scratched at her ears. The souls must be waking up. He knew how loud their voices could be. As loud as Chompers’ roar.

“Protect,” she said, her eyes suddenly sparkling with brown, green and blue. Oh, yes. The souls were in there, chattering.

Protect her, as she’d said. He must protect her. But he ground out, “Destroy.” And even though he tried to root his feet into the floor, he found himself stalking toward her, his mouth watering.

D e s t r o y d e s t r o y d e s t r o y.

DESTROYDESTROYDESTROY.

Chompers had always been insistent. But this … this was savagery at its most basic.

Somehow, some way, Aden’s time with Victoria was about to come to an end—the knowledge was suddenly as much a part of him as his healed heart—and he had a feeling only one of them would be walking away.

TWO

VICTORIA TEPES, DAUGHTER of Vlad the Impaler and one of the three princesses of Wallachia, braced herself for impact. Good thing. A split second later, Aden slammed into her, knocking her into the same cave wall against which she’d thrown the human. Goodbye, beloved oxygen.

There was no time to refill her lungs, either. One of Aden’s hands closed around her neck and squeezed. Not enough to damage her but enough to trap her. He was fighting the monster’s urges with every bit of his strength, she knew. Otherwise he would have already crushed her.

Soon, he would lose the battle.

Anger would have helped her push him away, but she couldn’t summon a single spark of it. She had done this to him, and the guilt ate at her, a malignant cancer without a cure. He’d told her not to try and save him. He’d told her bad things would happen if she did. But as she’d peered down at the boy she’d come to love, the one person who had ever accepted her for who and what she was without any strings or expectations, she hadn’t been able to let him go. She’d thought, He’s mine, I need him.

So, before death could claim him, she’d acted. She still didn’t regret what she’d done—how could she? He was here!—and that was why the guilt had chewed such a big hole in her. Her Aden had to abhor what he was becoming. Aggressive, domineering … a warrior without a soul.

Normally he was gentle with her, treating her like a precious treasure, a need to safeguard her somehow hardwired into his brain. Even though she could rip him apart in seconds. Or rather, could have ripped him apart. More than changing mentally, he was changing physically. Already he was taller, stronger, quicker—and he’d been tall, strong and quick to begin with.

His eyes, usually a collage of glittering colors as the souls he (once) possessed peered through them, were now the startling shade of a violet. “Thirsty,” he rasped, and she would have sworn she felt the singe of smoke wafting from him.

Isn’t this just a peach, a male voice piped up inside her head. We’re with the vamp again. And there was Julian, the corpse whisperer. He could raise the dead. So far, however, all he’d raised was her blood pressure.

Sweet! Hey Vicki. Another voice immediately joined the conversation. You should take a shower. You know, get that blood cleaned off you. And remember to scrub really hard. Everywhere. Cleanliness is next to godliness. This one belonged to Caleb, the body possessor and naked-curves aficionado.

“Let me take over Aden’s body,” she said. She’d seen him step into and disappear inside other people, snapping up the reins of command. Just boom, one second he was there, and the next he was a part of them, forcing them to do whatever he wanted.

He no longer needed Caleb’s help to perform the task. He could control the ability, turning it on and off at will. Not her, though. She’d tried multiple times and failed miserably. Maybe because the souls were not a natural extension of her being. Maybe because they were new to her, there was a certain way to deal with them, and she hadn’t yet found that way. Maybe because they constantly fought her. Whatever the reason, she needed their … gag … permission to use them.

A chorus of No, no, no, rang out. As always.

“I’ll be careful with him,” she added. “I’ll force him to sit still until the madness passes.” If she could. Sometimes the madness overtook her, and she forgot her purpose.

Nope, sorry. The guys and I—wait, the guys and me—wait, how do you say that properly? “Does it matter?” she snapped.

Anyway, Caleb went on smoothly, we talked, and we’re not gonna help you use us. That might create a permanent connection, you know? Like a bond. You’re hot, and I’d love to bond with you, and in fact, I voted in your favor, but majority rules and we’re not staying any longer than necessary. Now about that shower …

“Congratulations on your little talk. If he’s hurt, you have only yourselves to blame.”

No, we’ll know who to blame. Because you’re right. This will not end well, Elijah, the death predictor, suddenly chimed in. He never had anything good to say. At least, not to her.

Caleb snorted. Bite your tongue, E. Showers always end well if you know what you’re doing.

Aden shook her, his grip tightening in a demand for her attention. “Thirsty,” he repeated, clearly expecting her to do something about it.

“I know.” So. She was on her own. Foolish souls. Not only did they refuse to help her, they stole her concentration, preventing her from helping herself. “But you can’t drink from me. I haven’t yet fully recovered from the last time.” Especially considering last time had happened roughly five minutes ago. He shouldn’t have been this desperate. “Thirsty.”

“Listen to me, Aden. This isn’t you, but Chompers.” Such a silly name for such a ferocious beast. “Fight him. You have to keep fighting him.”

You won’t get through to him, Elijah told her. The soul’s new nickname, she decided—The Good News Bear. I’ve seen this encounter play out. Aden’s lost in there.

“Oh, just shut up!” she snapped. “I don’t need your commentary. And you know what else? You’ve been wrong before! Aden didn’t die after he was stabbed. Either time!”

Yes, and look where that got you both.

Stating the obvious. Such a low blow. “Shut. Up.”

A flicker of sympathy in those petal-toned eyes before the cold, frothing hunger returned. “Thirsty. Drink. Now.” Aden flashed his teeth at her just before diving for her neck. On some level, he knew he couldn’t reach her vein, but at this stage, that never stopped him from trying.

Victoria gripped him by the hair and flung him. Gentle, gentle. He flew across the cave into the far wall, and she winced. Oops. Dust and debris exploded around him, drifting to her as he slid to the ground. She sucked in a much-needed breath, then had to cough to clear her throat of the rubble.

Hey! Be careful with our boy, Julian commanded. I plan to move back inside him, you know.

“I’m trying to be careful,” she wanted to scream. How had Aden dealt with these beings all his life? They chattered constantly, commenting on everything. Julian found fault with her every action, Caleb took nothing seriously and Elijah was the biggest downer of all time.

To be honest, she would have more fun overdosing on sedatives than speaking to him.

Where were human junkies when you needed to top yourself off?

Aden stood, his gaze locked on her.

How can I stop him without harming him? She’d wondered this a thousand times before, but the solution had never come to her. Surely there was a way to facilitate—

Hey, I kinda feel funny, Caleb announced, his voice booming as if there had never been anyone or anything more important than him and his feelings in the history of the world.

Will you give it a rest? You’ve got a funny feeling in your invisible pants and the only way to fix you is for Victoria to undress. We know! Julian snapped. Why don’t you do our boy Aden a solid and stop trying to play Naughty Shower Time with his girlfriend?

Victoria clawed at her ears, trying to reach the souls and finally kill them. They were so loud. So there, like shadows slinking through her skull, untouchable, darting just out of reach every time she closed in.

No, I’m not horny. A laborious pause. Well, I am, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now. I … I think I’m … dizzy.

Caleb was telling the truth. That dizziness was now spilling into her, and she wavered on her feet.

Hey, Julian said a second later. Me, too. What did you do to us, princess?

Of course he blamed her, even though it wasn’t her fault. The dizziness always hit them a few minutes before they returned to Aden, and they were always surprised.

Here comes Aden, Elijah warned her. I hope you’re prepared for the changes about to unfold. I know I’m not.

Hey, don’t help the enemy! Julian growled.

“I’m not the—” The scent of Aden’s blood hit her first, potent and tantalizing, making her mouth water, reminding her of her body’s needs. Then, suddenly, she was falling, hard hands pushing her down. Cold rock scraped against her back, and she gasped out the rest of her sentence “—enemy.”

“Feed.” Aden’s weight pinned her, his teeth chewing at her neck a moment later. She latched onto his hair again, but this time, when she tugged, he bit down harder—into her vein. Her skin actually split open.

Never before had something like this happened, and a scream of pain tore from her. A scream that died as quickly as it had begun. Her throat clogged as the dizziness returned, accompanied by a tidal wave of unexpected fatigue. Her muscles quivered, and she thought she heard Caleb moan.

Caleb. Reminded of his presence, she gasped out his name, willing to beg the soul to help her now. “Let me possess—”

His second moan cut her off. What’s happening to me?

“Concentrate. Please. Let me—”

Am I dying? I don’t want to die. I’m too young to die.

He and his babbling would be no help. Nor would the others. Julian and Elijah were moaning, too. But they weren’t leaving her, weren’t returning to Aden. And then their moans became shouts, fogging her mind, derailing her good sense.

Flashes in her mind, like a camera switching views. Her bodyguard, Riley—tall and dark-haired, smiling with wicked humor. Her sisters, Lauren and Stephanie, both blonde and beautiful, teasing her mercilessly. Her mother, Edina, with black-as-a-midnight-sky hair swinging as she twirled. Her long-lost brother, Sorin, a warrior she’d been commanded to forget, she’d tried to forget as he’d walked away and never looked back.

More flashes, the camera revealing only black and white now. Shannon, her roommate, kind, caring, concerned. No, not her roommate, but Aden’s. Ryder, the boy Shannon had wanted to date, even though he’d rejected him. Dan, beloved owner of the D and M ranch, her home for the last few months. No, not her home. Aden’s.

Her own thoughts and memories were blending with Aden’s, forming a hazy cloud around her. Then the flashes disappeared all together. She was weakening … fighting the need to sleep.

Come on, Tepes! You’re royalty. You can do this!

A pep talk courtesy of herself, one that worked. She could do this.

Determination driving her, she managed to tug on Aden’s hair, lifting his head. Unfortunately, she wasn’t strong enough to throw him. Not this time. And for a moment, their gazes clashed. His eyes were red now, glowing. Demonic. Blood dripped from his mouth—her blood—and splashed onto her chin. Blood she desperately needed to keep.

She should have been frightened. Because, as she looked up at the fiend she had created, she saw her death. A death that made sense. Elijah had claimed Aden was now lost to the beast, and Elijah was never wrong. And yet …

Blood … her own hunger rose again, filling her up, becoming all that she knew, strengthening her. She would not be taken down without feasting on him, she decided.

Her fangs sharpened as she surged up to bite. Only, she could not pierce his skin. Something blocked her. What blocked her? She looked, determined to remove the obstacle, but she saw only the bronze of Aden’s skin. Nothing covered that hammering pulse.

Taste, taste, must taste. A mantra she couldn’t blame on the souls.

Snarling, she released his hair and clawed at him. A tiny cut, that’s all she needed to make. So easy, but her nails failed her as thoroughly as her teeth.

“Feed.” Aden dove back down. Clearly, her jugular was his favorite chew toy.

TASTE. She surged back up, trying to bite him again.

“Taste,” the beast said, as if he’d heard her thought and mirrored it.

They rolled on the floor in a bid for dominance. Whenever she managed to toss him away, he always flew back in less than a blink. They crashed into the walls, slammed into the dais and splashed in the shallow puddles of water.

Whoever won would feed. Whoever lost would die, drained, the circle of life proven once again. For only the strongest could survive; everyone else became a snack. Until Aden, her every action had been motivated by that principle. After him, she had fought to protect those weaker than herself. Fought her instinct to take, to have. Now, she couldn’t fight. She wanted. She would have.

All too soon, however, Aden pinned her, and this time, he held her down so firmly, she was unable to wrestle her way free. Their bodies rubbed together as she still continued to struggle, their limbs tangling. Finally, he managed to grab her wrists and brace them over her head.

Game over. She had lost.

She took stock. She was panting, sweating, her neck throbbing, her mind locked on one thought: TASTETASTETASTE.

Yes.

“Let go,” she snarled.

Above her, Aden stilled. He, too, was panting and sweating. His eyes were still glowing that bright crimson, but now there were flecks of amber mixed with the red. Amber, his natural color. That meant, for once, Elijah had been wrong. Aden was in there, still battling the beast for control.

She could do no less.

The thought was a lifeline, and she clung. Victoria concentrated on her breathing, in and out, slow and measured. Voices other than her own began to penetrate her awareness.

—feeling worse, Caleb was saying.

The dizziness had never been this bad before. And once the switch-switch-switch had begun, the souls should not have been able to stay put. Why hadn’t they left her?

We all have to stay calm, Elijah said. Okay? We’ll be fine. I know we’ll be fine.

You’re lying. Julian’s words were slurred. Hurts too badly for us to be fine.

Yes, lying. Panic drenched Caleb’s voice. This is terrible, I’m dying, and you’re dying, too. We’re all dying. I know we’re dying.

Stop saying the word dying and calm down, Elijah commanded. Now. Your little anxiety attacks are placing Aden and Victoria in more danger.

At last, concern. But it was too little, too late. They were already in danger.

I just … I need …

Caleb! You’re placing all of us in danger, too. Please, calm down.

“Thirsty,” Aden said, his gravelly voice drawing her back to the hated present.

The amber was fading in his eyes, the red expanding. He was losing the battle … would soon attack her, his gaze already zeroing in on the still-seeping wound in her neck. He licked his lips, his eyes closing as he savored the lingering flavor of her.

This was the perfect time for her to strike, she thought, reverting to her baser urges. Her opponent was distracted. “Taste,” she said, the word garbled.

Victoria. You love him. You fought to save him. Don’t undermine your own efforts by succumbing to a hunger you can control. A voice of reason in the chaos of her mind. But of course, Elijah, the psychic, would know exactly what to say to reach her. All right? Okay? I can’t deal with both you and Caleb right now, on top of the dizziness. One of you has to act like a grown-up. And since you’re eighty-something years old, I pick you.

Aden’s eyelids popped open. Bright red, no longer any hint of his humanity.

Control herself, yes. She could. She would. “Aden, please.” Save him, yes. She would try that, too. He meant everything to her. “I know you can hear me. I know you don’t really want to hurt me.”

A pause, heavy and laden with tension. Then, miraculously, another flicker of amber, deep in those beloved eyes. “Can’t hurt …” he said. “Don’t want to hurt.”

Tears of relief pooled in her lashes, leaked onto her cheeks. “Let go of my hands, Aden. Please.”

Another pause, this one lasting an eternity. Slowly, so slowly, he uncurled his fingers from her wrists and lifted his arms away from her. He straightened until he was straddling her, his knees pressing into her hips.

“Victoria … sorry, so sorry. Your poor, beautiful neck.” The dual voice, one his, one the beast’s, tendrils of sympathy and smoke, blending together, wafting over her.

She offered him a soft smile. “Nothing to apologize for.” I did this to you.

I … need … you must … Caleb couldn’t quite catch his breath—and suddenly, Victoria couldn’t quite catch her breath, either. Something’s happening … I can’t.

Listen to me carefully, Caleb, Elijah lashed out. We can’t go back to Aden yet. We’ll be killed.

Killed? Caleb gasped. Figures. I knew we were going to die.

What do you mean, killed? Julian snarled.

I mean, we’ll be fine unless you two keep this up! Your panic is going to drive us out of Victoria, and we can’t leave Victoria. Not yet. So you have to calm down like I told you. Do you hear me? We can return to Aden later. After the … just after. So, Caleb, Julian, are you listening to—

His speech ended abruptly. Caleb screamed, then Julian screamed, the sounds blending with Elijah’s sudden groan of distress. No, they hadn’t listened.

Neither had she, apparently. Victoria was the next to scream, and the sound of that busted her eardrums. Loud, loud, so loud. Hurt, hurt, so hurt. Then, she didn’t care. The pain left, and her scream softened into a purr.

Somehow, some way, absolute power was birthed inside her, blasting through her, fusing with her. Now, a part of her. Good, good, so good.

Throughout the decades of her life, she had drained several witches. A bad thing for vampires. Witches were their drug of no-choice, and once sampled, it was difficult to think about anything else. She knew that very well. Though years had passed since her last bender, some days the cravings hit her, and she’d find herself running through the woods, searching, searching, desperate to find a witch. Any witch. And that was reason number one why witches and vampires usually avoided each other.

But, oh, this sudden burst of power … it was witchlike, intoxicating, warmth and sunlight, yet cold like a snowstorm. Dizzying, overwhelming, everything and nothing. She floated on clouds, swept away from the cave. She dozed on a beach, water lapping at her feet. She danced in the rain, as carefree as the child she’d never been allowed to be.

Such a beautiful eternity awaited her here. She never wanted to leave.

She thought she heard the souls crying, soft, almost childlike. Where they not experiencing this, too?

A roar cut through her euphoria. That roar stretched out wispy tentacles, and those tentacles wrapped around her, surprisingly strong, tugging her away. Frowning, she dug her heels into the ground. I’m staying!

A second roar inside her head, louder now, threatening, causing a chilled, clammy sheen of perspiration to coat her….

In a snap, she was jerked back to the present. And just like that, her sense of tranquility vanished. No. No, no, no.

Oh, yes. The souls were no longer chattering, screaming, crying, anything, and the sense of power had evaporated with the tranquility. More than that, Chompers had returned, and he didn’t want her to hurt Aden.

Before, each time her beast had returned to her, she had experienced a sharp lance of acknowledgment. Nothing more. Then he’d left her again. Then returned. An endless cycle as she and Aden endlessly drank. But this … this was something different. Something stronger. A passing of energy, perhaps. Or had that been a final break of the ever-changing cycle of possession?

Chompers’ hunger blended with her own, familiar, yet utterly unwelcome because he would not allow her to do anything about it. He never did, not with Aden.

Victoria blinked open her eyes, gasped. She had never left the cave, but she’d been busy. She was on her feet, her arms outstretched. A golden glow radiated from between her fingers, dimming … gone. Aden lay in a crumpled heap against the far wall. He was unconscious, unmoving, maybe even—no. No!

Her bare feet dug into the rocks as she raced to him. The moment she reached him, she was crouching and feeling for a pulse. No, no, no. Please, please. There! Fast, too fast and too weak, but there. He was alive.

Relief flooded her, followed quickly by remorse. What had she done to him? Beaten him? Drained him? No, she couldn’t have. Chompers wouldn’t have allowed that, either. Right?

“Oh, Aden.” She smoothed the hair from his brow. There were no bruises on his face, no punctures in his neck. “What’s wrong with you?”

A sound wafted to her ears. Frowning, she leaned down. Was he … humming? She blinked, listened more intently. Yes, yes, he was. And if he was humming, he wasn’t hurting. Right? He must be experiencing some sort of euphoria. Perhaps even the same euphoria she’d basked in. Right?

Please, be right.

She studied him more intently. His expression was serene, his lips edged upward. He looked boyish, innocent, almost angelic. He was experiencing the euphoria, then.

Relaxing, she traced her fingertip along his hairline. He was so striking, with his hair dyed black and those two-inch blond roots. Perfectly arched eyebrows rose above perfectly uptilted eyes. His nose was perfectly sloped. His lips were soft, his chin stubborn. Again, perfectly. His was a face a girl would never tire of looking at. Maybe because every new glance revealed a previously undiscovered nuance. This time, she saw the thick, feathering fan of his lashes, a golden chocolate in the haze of the cave.

“Wake up for me, Aden. Please.” Nothing, no response.

Perhaps, like her, he didn’t want to leave. Well, too bad. They had some chatting to do. “Aden. Aden, wake up.”

Again nothing. No, not nothing. He scowled, and the scowl soon became a grimace.

Her heart galloped against her ribs. All right. What if he wasn’t floating and carefree? What if he was stuck? Or worse, agonized? That grimace.

He panted out a breath once, twice, shallow and rasping. Crackling. She’d heard that crackle before—each time she’d taken too much blood from a human.

He won’t die. He can’t. They’d been here a week. Seven days, three hours and eighteen minutes. They’d fought and kissed and drank from each other the entire time. Aden had survived all of that; surely he would survive this. Whatever this was.

Shame suddenly outweighed her ever-present guilt. And maybe that shame was what corralled her beast, stopping him from screaming for release the way he had every time before.

Wait. Chompers wasn’t screaming. The realization caused her to blink with confusion. A quick glance at her chest, and she saw that all of her wards had faded.

Even still, the beast was silent. That had never happened before.

What else was different? Her gaze fell to Aden’s neck, where his pulse drummed sporadically. Her mouth watered, but the urge, the electrifying need to bite him, wasn’t there.

No, not true. It was there, it simply wasn’t as strong. It was controllable. Even still, she was thirsty, desperate to drink from someone. And if she could now take from someone else, perhaps Aden could, as well. If so.

He could be saved. Completely. She hoped. There was only one way to find out. Though she was still weak, she twined her fingers with Aden’s and closed her eyes, imagining her bedroom at the vampire stronghold near Crossroads, Oklahoma. White carpet, white walls, white bed covers.

Please work, she thought. Please.

A cold breeze kicked up, blowing her hair up and down, the strands winding together and knotting. It was working! Her grip tightened on Aden, and her lips curved into a grin. The floor fell away, leaving them suspended in the air. Any moment now and they would be—

Her feet settled on a soft, plush foundation. Carpet. Home. They were home.

THREE

Three days later

THE BEDROOM DOOR CRASHED against the wall as a harsh male voice snarled, “I hear you’ve threatened to disembowel anyone who steps foot in your room. Well, here I am. But before you disembowel me, you better tell me what the hell is going on.”

Victoria stopped pacing and whipped around to face the intruder. Riley. Her bodyguard. Her best friend. Tall, as muscled as Aden now was, with a face roughened by life and fist fights.

Her chest constricted. He wasn’t handsome in a Prince of Your Dreams way like Aden, but in a sexy I’ll Kick Your Ass No Matter What It Takes and Laugh way, and that was exactly what she needed at the moment. A willingness to do whatever was necessary.

He might be the one person able to help her.

And though he was obviously fuming, his eyes glittering with angry heat, he was the best thing she’d seen in days. He had dark, shaggy hair, bright green eyes fringed by long lashes of the darkest jet, and a nose broken too many times to count, with a slight bump in the center. Certain injuries, when received repeatedly, simply couldn’t heal properly.

He wore a green Lucky Charms T-shirt and jeans—or what looked to be jeans, since she knew they weren’t really denim. He was the only slash of color in her white-as-the-clouds bedroom.

“Nice shirt,” she said. One, to distract him from his anger before she spilled her secrets, and two, to showcase the sense of humor she was desperately trying to develop. Once, his human girlfriend, Mary Ann Gray, had accused Victoria of being too somber.

“Only thing I could find. Victoria. Talk. Now. Before I assume the worst and just start offing everyone in the house.”

The pretend sense of humor vanished, and tears filled her eyes, those stupid human tears she’d never shed before coming to the States. She raced to Riley, throwing herself into his strong, capable arms.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You might not be so glad if I have to force you to start talking.” Despite the threat, he hugged her tight, exactly as he’d done when they were younger and other vampires refused to play with her.

Because she was a daughter of Vlad the Impaler, everyone had feared punishment if she were hurt—or worse—on their watch. But not Riley. Never Riley. He was like the brother she had always wanted, her comforter and her shield.

Oh, she had a blood brother. Sorin. Except, Vlad had forbidden her from looking at, talking to or even acknowledging him. Father Dearest hadn’t wanted his only son tainted by his “too soft” daughters. In fact, when Aden had asked Victoria about her siblings back when they’d first met, she’d named only her sisters. Last she’d inadvertently heard, Sorin was leading half of the vampire army through Europe, keeping Bloody Mary, the leader of the Scottish faction, in line. Combine all of that, and Sorin didn’t count.

Besides, Vlad had long ago given Riley charge of Victoria’s care, and the wolf shifter had taken the job seriously. Not just out of a sense of duty, or fear of torture and death if he failed, but also because he liked her. They were friends first and everything else second.

“Why are you here, though?” she asked, ignoring his demand. Again.

“My brothers hunted me down and scared two centuries off my life when they told me you’d ventured into Crazy Town. Now, enough about me.” Riley pulled back and cupped her cheeks, forcing her to peer up at him. “Have you fed properly? You look like crap.”

His concern—and insult—offered more comfort than anything else could have and was so wonderfully Riley she responded in a way she knew he would approve. “Yes, Daddy. I’ve fed properly.” Truth. Five minutes after arriving home and settling Aden in her bed, she’d had her fangs buried deep inside one of the blood-slaves who lived here at the stronghold.

So thirsty had she been, she’d nearly drained the human dry. Her sister Lauren had managed to jerk her away just in time. Her other sister, Stephanie, had found her a second human, and a third and a fourth, and she’d drunk until her stomach could hold no more.

“Smart-ass.” Riley’s lips twitched with his amusement. “When did you learn to wield sarcasm?”

“I can’t remember exactly.” All she knew was that she’d had a choice. Find the humor in what happened to her or drown in her misery. “Two weeks ago, maybe.”

The mention of time wiped away his delighted expression, leaving him with a cold frown.

Only one person affected him that way. Mary Ann Gray. The girl had struck out on her own the same night Aden had been stabbed, and Riley the Besotted Wolf had charged after her, determined to protect her despite the hazard to himself.

“Where’s your human?” Wait. Mary Ann wasn’t quite human anymore. The girl had become a drainer—something Victoria had not seen coming—able to suck the magic from witches, the beasts from vampires, the power from fairies and the ability to shift forms from the wolves.

Victoria had begun to wonder if Mary Ann had ever been human. After all, fairies were drainers. The difference was, the fairies could control their hunger and feedings. Mary Ann could not. Still. That raised a startling question. Could Mary Ann be a human/fairy hybrid?

Victoria had never heard of such a pairing, but as she was learning, anything was possible. If Mary Ann was somehow a hybrid, every vampire and shifter in this stronghold—besides Riley, of course—would want the girl dead. More than they already did. Fae were Enemy One. Dangerous in the extreme. A threat to otherworld existence.

“Well?” Victoria insisted when Riley offered no reply.

“I lost her.” A muscle underneath his eye jerked, a sure sign of his upset.

“Wait. You, an expert tracker, lost a teenager who wouldn’t know how to hide if she were invisible?” Another sign that Mary Ann was more than she seemed.

The ticking migrated to Riley’s jaw. “Yes.”

“You should be ashamed.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “I’m here to talk about you. How are you? Seriously?”

“I’m fine.”

“All right. I’ll pretend I believe that. Any word from your father?”

“No.” Vlad had ordered Aden’s execution while remaining in the shadows. Shadows he had yet to vacate.

She’d never been so grateful for her father’s vanity. He wanted to be seen as invincible, always. So, no one here knew Vlad was still alive, and if she had her way, they never would. The vampires might rebel against Aden before he was officially crowned king, and if they rebelled while he was in this condition, he would lose. Everything he’d already endured would have been for nothing.

Even healthy and whole, he needed every edge he could get. Not just to remain in charge, but to stay alive.

Right now, he had time. Victoria knew her father. Vlad would not return until he was at top strength. Then … well, then there would be a war. Vlad would punish those who’d submitted to Aden’s rule. Herself and Riley included. He would make an example of Aden. And his preferred method of “exampling,” as she’d come to call it, was placing a severed head on a pike and displaying that pike at his front door.

Would Aden fight him? If so, could Aden hope to win?

“How’s Aden?” Riley asked. The wolf could read auras and had probably sensed the direction of her thoughts. “Did he … survive?”

Yes and no. Her stomach twisted into thousands of little knots. She tugged from Riley’s hold, turned and motioned to the bed with a wave of her hand. “Behold. Our king.”

Green eyes narrowed as they lanced to the lump atop the mattress. Five sure steps, and the shifter was at the side of the bed, peering down. Victoria joined him, trying to see Aden as Riley must.

He lay on his back, as motionless as a corpse. His normally bronzed skin was pallid, the blue tracery of his veins evident. His cheeks were hollowed out, his lips chapped and cracked. His hair was soaked with sweat and plastered to his scalp.

“What’s wrong with him?” Riley demanded in a quiet, yet all the harsher for it, tone.

“I don’t know.”

“You know something.”

She gulped. “Well, I think I told you that Tucker stabbed him.”

“Yes, and Tucker will die for that.” A flat, cold statement of fact. “Soon.”

The homicidal confession didn’t surprise her. Retaliation was Riley’s way. Tit for tat, and never anything in between. That way, an enemy never tried to harm you twice. “I wanted to save him—save Aden I mean—so I … I tried to …” Just say it. “Tried to turn him. I told you that, too.”

“And I thought you’d change your mind, see reason.”

“Well, I didn’t. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want. I did what I had to do to keep him alive!”

“Aden told you the consequences of messing with one of Elijah’s predictions, Vic. The few times he did it, people suffered more than they would have if he’d left them alone.”

Her back went ramrod straight, her nose lifting in the air. “Yes, he did, and no, that didn’t stop me or change my mind. I fed him my blood, every drop I could, drank from him, and then he drank from me. We repeated the process, over and over again.”

“And?”

Of course he knew there was more to the story. Her shoulders sagged. “And … somehow I absorbed his souls inside my head, and he absorbed my beast.”

Riley’s mouth dropped open. “You have the souls?”

“Not anymore. We kept switching back and forth, and we kept drinking from each other, even though we barely had anything left. I thought we would kill each other. We … almost … did.” Her chin trembled, breaking the words apart.

“There’s more. Tell me.” Riley was merciless when he wanted something, and right now he wanted information. He’d warned her she wouldn’t like him if he had to force her to talk, and she took the threat seriously.

“Our last day in the cave, I did something to him. I don’t know what, and it’s killing me! I blacked out, and when I came to, he was like this.”

“You just blacked out? For how long?”

“Yes, and I don’t know.”

“Was he bleeding?”

“No.” Truth. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t injured him internally.

Why couldn’t she remember what happened?

“Why did you bring him here? In this condition, he’s weak and vulnerable. There’s no better time to strike at him. Your people could rise up and finally rid themselves of the human king they never wanted.”

Her nose went back into the air. “I’ve been guarding him, and no one has even tried to enter my room. I think they remember how much their beasts love him.” Every vampire possessed one, and without the wards they etched into their skin, those beasts could emerge, take solid form and attack. And when they attacked, no one, especially not their vampire “master,” was safe.

And yet, those same beasts acted like trained, slobbery house dogs in Aden’s presence, doing everything he commanded, protecting him against any and all threats.

“Or maybe the people haven’t yet realized Aden’s here,” she finished.

“Oh, they realize. Everyone I ran into was on edge. Their beasts want out of them and in here with Aden.”

That she could believe. The precious silence she’d experienced those last minutes in the cave had ended the moment she arrived home. Chompers wanted to move inside Aden’s mind permanently and wasn’t afraid to roar his displeasure about being stuck with Victoria.

After feeding him, she’d had to double up on her wards to quiet him.

“Is Aden now a vampire?” Riley asked.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. Before passing out, he craved blood. My blood.” All of my blood. She kept that little gem to herself. No telling how Riley would react.

He reached out and lifted Aden’s lips from his teeth. “No fangs.”

“No, but his skin …”

“Is like yours?” Frown deepening, Riley unleashed his claws, his nails lengthening and sharpening. Before Victoria could protest, he raked those claws over Aden’s cheek.

“Don’t—”

Not a single wound formed.

“Interesting.” A clear liquid—je la nune—beaded on the end of those claws, and Riley once more sliced at Aden’s cheek. This time, the skin sizzled as it split apart.

“Stop it!” With a screech, Victoria threw herself over Aden’s body, preventing Riley from making another pass at him. Not that he tried.

“You’re right. He has a vampire’s skin,” Riley said.

“Which is what I was trying to tell you!” What she wouldn’t admit, not yet, because she still couldn’t believe it herself, was that she now had human skin. Vulnerable, so easily harmed. Feeding hadn’t reversed the damage, either. She wasn’t sure anything would. “You didn’t need to hurt him like that. The je la nune would burn through a human, too.”

Riley ignored her. “How long has he been like this?”

“Three days.” She sat up, remaining beside Aden, and glared at her bodyguard, daring him to blame her.

“Give me a minute to mentally calculate.” With barely a pause, he added, “Yep, that’s three days too long. Has he fed recently?”

“Yes.” She’d tested every blood-slave she’d allowed him to drink from, then, when she knew they were safe, she’d given him a little at a time to gauge how he would respond. There’d been no reaction, good or bad, so she’d given him more and more, until the blood had practically seeped from his pores. Still there’d been no reaction.

For hours she had debated the wisdom of giving him more of her blood. What if he became addicted again? Then she’d thought, what if he was still addicted, and only her blood could help him?

So, she’d done it. She’d sliced her wrist—and oh, how that had hurt—pouring her blood straight down his throat. The wound had healed slowly for her, swiftly for a human, but Aden had gotten several mouthfuls in the interim. His cheeks had suddenly bloomed with color, and she’d been so hopeful—for both of them. But a few minutes later, the color had withered, then disappeared altogether, and his sleep had become fitful. Too fitful. He’d moaned in pain, writhed and finally vomited.

She explained all of that to Riley.

“Maybe that’s the problem, then,” he said. “Maybe he doesn’t need the blood.”

“I let him go twenty-four hours without it, and he got even worse. He only improved to this comalike state when I started feeding him again.”

A heavy sigh. “All right, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Riley said, taking charge. As always. “I’m gonna post guards at your door. No one but you and I are to enter this room. Understand?”

“No. Because I’m foolish. News flash, Riley. That’s why I threatened to disembowel anyone who entered.” Well, well. Stress and lack of rest were making her snappy.

He continued, unperturbed, “You’re going to feed him your blood, exactly as you’ve been doing, and you will alert me if there’s a change. Any change. I will go to the D and M ranch and grab his medication.”

The D and M ranch. Aden’s home. Well, perhaps former home now. Troubled teenagers lived there, and it was a last stop on the road to redemption—or damnation. One broken rule, and those teens were kicked out. Leaving without contacting Dan, the owner of that ranch, was probably the biggest no-no of all.

“Victoria, are you listening to me?”

“What? Oh, yes. Sorry.” She was still so easily distracted. “But Aden hates his medication.” And if he wanted back inside that ranch, Victoria would make it happen. A few spoken commands, and the humans there would do and think whatever she wanted them to do and think.

If she still possessed the Voice, she thought with a swirl of dread. She’d lost her ultratough skin and could have lost her ultrapowerful voice, too. Since returning, she had tried to compel a few of the human slaves to do her bidding. They had smiled at her and gone on their way, without doing what she’d told them.

You’re out of practice, that’s all, and still haven’t completely regained your strength.

The pep talk failed to comfort her.

“You’re worse than Aden,” Riley muttered. “And I don’t care if he hates his meds or not. We’ve seen him like this before, minus the need for blood, and the medication was the only thing that helped him. If the souls are responsible, like they were before, we have to knock them out for a little while.”

“But what if the medication hurts him, now that he’s a blood drinker?”

“Doubtful, since human meds don’t really hurt you. But there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Good point. One that bothered her. Most everyone in Aden’s life considered him a schizophrenic. Not only had his parents given him up when he was little, but he’d been shuffled from one mental institution to another. Different “cures” had been shoved down his throat for years, and he’d hated them all.

And, really, he liked the souls, loud and obnoxious as they were, and his newest medicinal regimen shut them down entirely. But Riley was right. Aden wouldn’t last much longer in his current state. They had to try something, anything. Everything.

“All right.” She hated that she hadn’t thought of this. If it worked, she could have saved Aden three days of … distress? Pain? Mental torment? Probably a mix of all three. “We’ll try.”

“Good. I’ll be back.” Riley turned on his booted heels and headed for the door. “Riley.”

He stopped, but didn’t face her.

“Be careful. Thomas’s ghost is still there.” Thomas, the fairy prince Riley and Aden had killed to save her. Now his very nasty ghost haunted the ranch, and he craved vengeance.

“I will.”

“And thank you.” Being here was probably difficult for him. Mary Ann was his love, and knowing him, he was frothing over her disappearance. Was probably frantic to be out there, searching for her. Yet, he stayed because Victoria needed him.

When Aden improved, she would help Riley hunt for Mary Ann, she decided. A danger to her loved ones or not.

A stiff nod, and then Riley was gone, the door closing behind him. Sighing, Victoria turned back to Aden. Her beautiful Aden. What was going on in that head of his? Was he aware of his surroundings? Hurting, as she suspected?

Did he know what she had done to him, those last few minutes in their cave?

She ran her fingers through his hair, lifting the strands and revealing the blond roots. There was a slight curl at the ends, the locks winding around her knuckles. He didn’t lean into her touch as she was used to, and that saddened her.

How much turmoil could one boy endure before he crumbled? Since the moment she’d entered his life, he’d known only war and pain. Because of her, goblin poison had ravaged him. Because of her, the witches had cursed his friends to die. Because of her, the fairies had tried to take over the D and M ranch.

Fine. Maybe all those things weren’t exactly because of her, but she still felt responsible. A humorless laugh escaped her. How human of her. To carry the weight of blame, despite everything. Aden would be so proud.

“You woke up from this kind of thing before,” she whispered. “You will wake up this time, too.” Please.

Unable to bear the thought of separation, she remained where she was until Riley returned a half hour later. He was without his shirt and wearing new pants that weren’t yet fastened. He’d dressed hastily, his other clothes ruined during his shift to wolf, she was sure.

Wolves tended to wear clothing that ripped easily. Because, when they shifted, they were stuck wearing whatever didn’t fall off. And wearing human underwear while in wolf form was something they preferred to avoid.

He carried a small wicker basket filled with medicine, the pill bottles rattling together. Victoria hopped to her feet, and he placed the basket where she’d sat.

“Sorry I took so long.”

“Thomas give you any trouble?”

“Nope. I didn’t even catch a glimpse of him. But then, unlike Aden, I’ve never been able to see or hear the dead. The delay had to do with the pills. I didn’t know which ones to give our boy and didn’t want him to have a reaction to the wrong combination, so I just grabbed the bottles with his name on them, stopped in my room, and Googled.”

What he didn’t say: Mary Ann was the Google queen, and she was the one who’d taught him how to use the search engine. Although, calling it an engine always confused Victoria. There were no workable parts that she could see.

“So, what happened at the ranch?” she asked.

“Here. See for yourself.” He extended his free hand, and she twined their fingers. They’d been together so long, they’d developed a very strong mental connection and were able to “share” their experiences.

As if a television screen were switched on inside her mind with a view straight from Riley’s eyes, she saw Dan, an ex-football star, tall, blond and rugged, standing in the kitchen of the ranch. His wife, petite, pretty Meg, bustled around him, tossing ingredients into a pot.

“—really worried,” Meg was saying.

“Me, too. But Aden’s not the first to run away. He won’t be the last.” While the words were accepting, the tone was not.

“He’s the first to surprise you with his actions, though.”

“Yeah. He’s just such a great kid. All heart.”

Meg’s smile was soft. “And not knowing why he left kills you. I know, baby.”

“I hope he’s okay. Maybe if I’d given him more one-on-one time, he wouldn’t have—”

“No. Don’t you dare do that to yourself. We can’t control the actions of others. All we can do is support them, and pray we make a difference.”

The conversation faded as Riley stealthily maneuvered from the main house and into the bunkhouse behind it. Aden’s friends were there. Seth, Ryder and Shannon lounged on the couch, watching TV. Terry, RJ and Brian were in front of the computer, playing games. Relaxing activities, but there was an undeniable tension radiating from each boy.

They must feel the loss of Aden, too.

I have to fix this, Victoria thought.

Shannon stood, a chalky cast to his mocha skin, his gaze sweeping the room—and clashing with Riley’s.

In the present, Riley released her hand, the images flickering, disappearing, and she was once again inside her bedroom.

“Shannon saw you,” she said.

“Yeah, but he didn’t do anything and I was able to get what we needed without incident.” Riley dug inside the basket, setting aside what he wanted and discarding what he didn’t. “There wasn’t a whole lot of information, just enough to tell me he needs the antipsychotics. This, this, and this.” As he spoke, he placed the desired pills in her palm.

She studied them. One was yellow and round, one blue and oblong, and one white and scored in the center. These tiny things were supposed to help him when she could not?

“Fetch a glass of water from my bathroom,” she said.

Commands were not something Riley usually responded to, but he didn’t hesitate to obey, soon thrusting the desired glass in her hand. His concern for Aden was as great as hers.

“Lift his head and tilt it back,” she said, and again, Riley jumped to obey.

She pried Aden’s mouth open and set the pills on his tongue. Then she placed the rim of the glass at his mouth and poured. Just a little, but enough. Without looking away, she reached out and set the remaining water on her nightstand. Or tried to. Her aim was off, and the glass thudded and splashed to the floor. She didn’t care. She closed Aden’s mouth with one hand and worked his throat with the other, until all the pills made their way into his stomach.

That done, she straightened and peered down at her patient. “Now what?” she whispered, watching for any kind of response … and not seeing one.

“Now,” Riley said, grim, “we wait.”

FOUR

MARY ANN GRAY SAT AT THE corner desk in the back of the library, reading countless microfiches—the same thing she’d done every night for a week. Days were beginning to blend together, her temples were throbbing, the muscles in her back were knotted, and there were (probably permanent) marks along her butt and thighs that were a perfect match to the scuffs in the freakishly uncomfortable chair she’d commandeered.

According to all the “How To” info she’d read for people on the run, she knew developing a routine was bad. Like flashing a neon arrow just above your head. Problem was, this routine was necessary.

“They close in thirty, you know.”

She flicked an irritated glance at her companion. AKA the boy she couldn’t ditch no matter what she tried. And she’d tried a lot. Dine and dash. The old “wait here, I’ll be right back.” The classic “what’s that over there?” And even brutal honesty—” just leave me alone, I hate you.”

“So I’ll finish in thirty,” she said. “Now get lost.”

“Let’s not start that argument again.” Tucker Harbor perched at the edge of her desk, pushing books and newspapers on top of each other and crinkling their precious pages. Just to irritate her, she was sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you mind? This stuff is important.”

“Yes, I do mind, thanks for asking,” he said, staying put.

She glared up at him. A mix of blond and brown hair shagged around the boyish face of an angel. Which was one hundred percent false advertising, considering he’d been spawned from a demon. Or would that be spawned from the devil?

“When are you going to tell me what you’re looking for?” he asked.

“When I stop wanting to rip out your trachea. In other words, never.”

He shook his head in mock despondency. A hard thing to pull off while he was freaking grinning. “Harsh, Mary Ann. Harsh.”

He was so annoying. She’d dated him for months, then dropped him like the used condom he was when she found out he’d cheated on her with her best friend Penny. Penny, who was now pregnant with his kid.

Penny, whom she’d forgiven and still called. As of this morning, her friend was suffering from all-day sickness. Despite that, she’d managed to crawl her way out of bed to check on Mary Ann’s dad.

Her friend’s words played through her head.

“Sweet Jesus, Mary Contrary,” Penny had crackled over the line. “He’s, like, the walking dead. He doesn’t even go to work anymore. He just stays in the house. I peeked in the window last night, and he was just staring at your picture. You know I’m as hard core as a girl can be, but that almost broke me.”

Me, too, she thought now. Nothing I can do about that, however. I’m saving his life. She’d had him freed from a vengeful fairy’s compulsion to never leave his room and to ignore everything around him. That would have to be enough. Better he was despondent than murdered to get to her.

And, now it was time to change the subject inside her head. What had she been thinking about before? Oh, yeah. Tucker.

Why, why, why had she convinced Aden, Riley and Victoria to save Tucker’s life after a group of vampires used his body as an appetizer? If she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been alive to stab Aden in the heart.

Weirdly enough, Tucker had confessed to the crime without any prompting from her. He’d even cried while telling her. Not that she had forgiven him. Maybe when the shock wore off. Then again, maybe not.

“What you did to Aden was harsh,” she said softly.

He blanched, but still he didn’t move away. “I told you. Vlad made me do it.”

“And how do I know you’re not here under Vlad’s orders, watching me and reporting what I do?”

“Because I told you I wasn’t.”

“And you’re known for your honesty and integrity?”

“Sarcasm is an ugly thing, Mary Ann. Look, I did what he wanted and then I ran. I haven’t seen him or heard from him since.”

The “heard from him” part gave her pause. She knew Vlad had spoken to Tucker inside his head, as if standing next to him and whispering when he hadn’t actually been standing next to him and whispering. Maybe Tucker was telling the truth right now, but again, maybe he wasn’t.

Bottom line: at any moment Vlad could whisper, command him to drag her home, hurt her, bury her, and Tucker would obey without hesitation. She wasn’t willing to risk it.

So she said, “I don’t care about your reasons or that you’re desperate to escape the head vamp. The facts are, you hurt Penny, hurt Aden, and you’re a liability. I’d be stupid to trust you.”

“You don’t have to trust me. You just have to use me. And in my defense, again, Aden is still alive. I can feel the pull of him.”

So could she, and that was the only reason she hadn’t followed through with her threat to get up close and personal with his windpipe. Okay, that wasn’t the only reason. She wasn’t violent by nature. Usually.

Neither was Aden, but life had shaped him differently than it had shaped her. While she’d grown up in the comfort of her parents’ love, he’d grown up in the cold, uncaring walls of mental institutions, his doctors constantly shoving pills at him. Pills he hadn’t wanted and hadn’t liked.

The docs had assumed he was crazy, never digging deeper to get to the truth. And the truth was, Aden was a paranormal magnet. Anyone or anything with supernatural abilities was drawn to him, and their powers—whatever they were—were magnified.

Mary Ann, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. She tended to repel the supernatural and suppress powers.

The suppression thing was the reason Tucker had glued himself to her side. Around her, the darkest urges of his demonic nature were eased, even forgotten. He liked that. In fact, that was the reason he’d dated her. Not because he’d been attracted to her, but because he liked feeling normal.

So not flattering.

“Look,” he said. “I’ve helped you, haven’t I?”

She refused to admit that, yes, in the past few days he’d helped her. She still wanted him to suck it.

“Riley was closing in on you, and I cast an illusion, hiding you inside it. He passed you.”

Don’t take the bait. And don’t you dare think about Riley! Riley, who was probably—argh! She pressed her lips together, once again remaining silent.

Tucker sighed. “Such a stubborn girl.”

Though she tried to stop them, thoughts of Riley continued to flood her. Riley, chasing after her the night she discovered the truth about her mother. Riley, catching her, carrying her to his car. Riley, kissing her. Comforting her. He would comfort her now, if she let him. But as much as she wanted to see him, she couldn’t. She would definitely hurt him and quite possibly kill him.

And really, seeing him that last time, when he’d bypassed her, unaware she was right there hidden in Tucker’s illusion, had nearly killed her. She loved that boy. So much so she’d come close to giving him her virginity. Twice. Both times he had been the one to stop them, wanting to make sure she was ready. That she wouldn’t regret what happened. That she was with him because she wanted him, and for no other reason.

Now she regretted that they hadn’t.

Walking away from him—fine, running as fast as her feet would carry her—had been hard. Was still hard. Harder by the second. How easy would it be to call him and ask him to pick her up? Beyond easy. He’d do it, too. Meet her wherever she asked, sweep her up and cart her to safety. That’s just how he was.

So, she had to be the same way for him. Anything to keep him safe. Even if that meant being apart. Forever.

“I had to stand far away from you,” Tucker went on, either oblivious to her inner turmoil or simply not caring, “so you wouldn’t mess with my mojo. You know, stifle it.”

“No. I don’t know what mojo is because I’m a moron.”

“Sarcasm again. Seriously, rethink it. Anyway. I had to be close enough to you to still be able to force Riley to see only what I wanted him to see. That wasn’t easy.”

She made a big production of leaning forward and “studying” the screen. When, in actuality, the words were kinda blurred together and had been for a while. Fatigue rode her hard. Nowadays, fatigue always rode her hard. She felt like she hadn’t slept in years.

Every night, when she laid her head on whatever motel pillow she could afford—or when she couldn’t, whatever building she stumbled upon—she tossed and turned, her mind lost to the things she’d witnessed and done what seemed an eternity ago.

Wow. An eternity that was really only about two craptastic weeks ago. Bodies had been writhing in pain all around her. Because of her. People had begged for mercy. Because of her. Because she had placed her hands on their chests and absorbed their powers, warmth and energy, leaving them with nothing, turning them into empty husks.

“Did you want to see the wolf?” Tucker asked, head tilting to the side as he measured her expression.

“Yes.” The truth left her before she could stop it. How big and strong and capable Riley had looked. How frustrated and angry. How … frightened. For her.

Exasperated, Tucker threw up his arms. “Then why are you running from him?”

Because she was dangerous. She wouldn’t mean to, but one day she would drain the energy out of him, too. Without touching him. Truly, she didn’t need to touch people to kill them. Touching helped, yes, but she could simply stand in front of them and inadvertently start tugging their life force into her own body.

Those life forces had become her food, after all.

Though she’d tried, she hadn’t drained Tucker yet. For some reason, she couldn’t. He possessed some kind of block. Either that, or her previous overindulgence prevented her from feeding. Yet.

She should feel guilty that she’d tried, because, if she had succeeded, he would never have recovered. The witches hadn’t. The fairies hadn’t. Only the ones who’d left the fray before she’d reached them had survived the carnage.

She sighed. Despite her failure with Tucker, she thought it was just a matter of time before her hunger returned in full. Every few hours, she experienced slight pangs. She feared those pangs would only grow. That they would develop invisible arms and reach out, grabbing onto whatever creature happened to be in her vicinity.

Fingers crossed, Tucker was victim one.

She found herself wondering what demons tasted like and had to shake away the thought. See? She couldn’t control this newest aspect of her nature. Bile burned a path up her throat. She needed a distraction. Big-time.

Mary Ann swiveled in her chair, leaned back and rested her hands on her middle. Peering up at her ex through the thick shield of her lashes, she said, “Tucker, I’m no good for you. You should leave while you can.” He’d get one warning. Only one.

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“You saw what I did that night.” A statement not a question. And she didn’t have to specify what night she meant.

“Yeah.” His frown disappeared, a high-wattage grin taking its place. “And it was impressive as hell.”

Impressive? Hardly. Her cheeks suffused with heat. “If you stay, I’ll do that to you. I won’t mean to—at least, that’s what I’ll tell anyone who questions me—but I will.”

The person next to her, a college-aged girl, shushed her. “Trying to work here.”

“Trying to converse here,” Tucker said, flashing a scowl at her. “You don’t like it, you can move.”

She moved, her ponytail angrily swishing back and forth.

Mary Ann fought a small wave of jealousy. She’d always wanted to be strong and assertive, and while she was working on it, she wasn’t there yet. For Tucker, it came so effortlessly.

Tucker studied her, one brow arched. “Liked that, did you?”

Took a Herculean effort, but she maintained a neutral expression. “No.”

“Liar.” He rolled his eyes, then rested his elbows on his knees. “Back to what we were discussing.” He threw the last word at the girl, now four desks away, before refocusing on Mary Ann. “Let’s say I like to live on the edge, and the fact that you could one day hurt me revs my engine. But guess what, baby doll? You need me. Riley wasn’t the only one chasing you, you know.”

“What?” That was news to her.

“Yep. Two girls. Both blondes. You kinda fought them before.” He gave a low, raspy wolf-whistle. “And BTW, they’re hot.”

The bile gave her throat another good singeing. “Were they wearing robes? Red robes?” If so. “Yes. You saw them this go-round?”

“No.” But hot blondes she’d “fought” before were rare. So, she knew exactly whom he spoke of and suddenly wanted to vomit.

“Too bad. You could have put in a good word for me. Because, yeah, I’d do ‘em.”

“A good word?” she scoffed, though inside she trembled. “When you’d do anyone? Please.” The blondes were witches, no question. Witches who had escaped her wrath. Witches who now hated her for destroying their brethren. Witches with power beyond imagining.

Mmm, power …

The fear momentarily left her, and her mouth watered. Witches tasted so good.

When she realized what thoughts were pouring through her mind, she slapped herself on the cheek. Bad Mary Ann! Bad!

“Okay, what was that about?”

She ignored Tucker to concentrate on her new top priority. More wards. If witches were on her tail, she needed to be ready for their attack. And they would attack. New wards would protect her from specific spells they might cast. Spells of death, destruction and even mind control.

Yeah, the Red Robed Wretches could go there.

“Hey, you’re getting paler by the second. There’s no reason for you to worry. I sent them away just like I sent the wolf away. Oh, and I sent the other group chasing you away, too. A mix of males and females with sparkly skin.”

Please, no. Not—

“Fairies,” Tucker said. “They were definitely fairies.”

Confirmation. Wonderful. As many as she had drained, they had to want revenge just as badly as the witches. Tucker might have sent them away, but they’d be back. All of them.

“So what do you come here every day to read about, huh?” Tucker asked, changing the subject. To give her time to calm down? To distract her? “Tell me, and maybe I can help. More, that is. Help more.”

Subtle. “It involves Aden, and secrets he’s shared with me. And I am not sharing those secrets with you.”

A moment passed in silence. Then, “Secrets, secrets, let’s see. There are so many to choose from, I don’t know where to start.”

“What do you mean?”

“Vlad had me research Aden before I stabbed him, and guess what? You’re not the only one who’s good at researching.”

Heart thundering with a storm of dread, she whipped upright. “What did you learn?” Aden did not like anyone knowing about him. He was embarrassed, but also cautious. If the wrong person found out about him—and actually believed the truth—he could be used, tested, locked away, killed. Take your pick.

Tucker held up one hand and began ticking off items like he was reading from a list. “He has three souls trapped inside his head. He used to have four, and one of them was your mother—your real mother, not the aunt who raised you as if you were hers—but Eve’s gone now. What else? Oh, yeah. He’s now king of the vampires. Until Vlad decides to step in and take the crown back.”

Right on all counts. Her mouth went dry, and she croaked out, “How did you learn all that?”

“Honey, I can listen to any conversation, anytime, and no one ever knows I’m there. And I listened to a lot of yours.”

“You spied on me.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

How many times? What all had he seen? She popped her jaw. Perhaps, if she was never able to drain him, she’d just stab him the same way he’d stabbed Aden. “What makes you think Vlad will succeed?”

Gray eyes went flat. “Please. As if there can be any other outcome. I researched Vlad, too, and he is a warrior who has won countless battles and survived for thousands of years. He’s flat-out mean, underhanded and has no concept of honor. What is Aden? Nothing but a bag of meat to a guy like Vlad. Why? Because Aden will want to fight fair and will actually care about collateral damage, both of which will handicap him.”

Phrased like that, there was no denying the truth. She needed all the help she could get for her original mission. Even from someone like Tucker.

Mary Ann fell back into her chair, closed her eyes for a moment and breathed. Just breathed. In and out, trying to relax, to come to grips with what she was about to do. If Tucker betrayed her, she would have done more harm than good to her friend. If he didn’t, well, he could actually help keep Aden alive.

So. No contest. She had to do this.

“Okay,” she said, meeting his gaze dead-on. “Here it is, the whole story, the unvarnished truth.”

He rubbed his hands together with glee.

That didn’t comfort her and, in fact, intensified her tension. But she said, “A few weeks ago, Riley and Victoria gave Aden and me a list. Because, on December twelfth, seventeen years ago—”

“Wait. December twelfth, your birthday?”

She blinked in surprise. He remembered. How had he remembered? “Yes. Anyway, fifty-three people died in the same hospital where Aden and I were born. St. Mary’s.” At his look of confusion, she added, “Did I forget to mention Aden and I share a birthday?”

“Yes, but I already knew.”

“Anyway. A lot of those people died because of a bus accident. My mom died giving birth to me.” Her mom had been like Aden, a force of nature, able to do things “normal” people couldn’t, and infant Mary Ann had drained her dry. Don’t think about that, either, or you’ll, what? Cry. “Somewhere on that list are the three other souls that Aden inadvertently sucked inside his head.” Maybe, they thought, hoped.

“You’re sure? Maybe they died nearby, and their names aren’t there.”

“A possibility, I guess.” One she wouldn’t entertain at the moment. “Through my research, I’ve managed to cross off more than half the names already.”

“That seems excessive.”

Not really. “The remaining souls are male, so that automatically eliminated the females.”

Tucker arched a brow. “Unless they’re transgender souls. I mean, really. Aden seems like the type to host a pink panty party inside his—”

“Tucker.”

“What? He does. And his friend Shannon is as gay as—”

“Shut. Up. The males possess the same special abilities now that they possessed when they were alive. I know this because my mother did, too. So I’ve been going through the names, looking for stories about raising the dead, body possession and predicting death. Even the minutest hint.”

He thought for a moment. “Backtrack a little. Why exactly do you want to identify the souls?”

“Because they need to remember what their last wish was, and do it. Then, they’ll leave Aden and he’ll be stronger, able to concentrate and defend himself from Vlad.”

“You really think that will help?”

“What is this? Twenty questions? Hell, yes, I do.” She had to. Otherwise her friend’s chances were nil.

Once again Tucker was blinking down at her. “Mary Ann, you just cussed.”

“Hell isn’t a cuss word.”

“To me it is.”

“Why? Because you’re afraid of spending eternity there?”

Good humor, gone. “Something like that.”

He looked so sad, she actually felt bad for her waspishness. “Maybe, by the time this is over, I’ll have earned myself a spot right next to you. We can keep each other company while roasting.”

He barked out a laugh, as she’d hoped, but that earned them another glare from Hush Girl. He flipped HG off and said to Mary Ann, “You wish I’d spend eternity with you. So, you got any leads?”

“Before you interrupted me—” she paused, waiting for an apology, but of course he didn’t offer one “—I was reading a story about a mortician at the hospital. Dr. Daniel Smart. Apparently he was murdered there. Defense wounds on his arms and legs, as if he’d rolled into a ball to protect himself while someone—” or something “—bit and punched him.”

“Great story. But what does that have to do with Aden’s souls?”

“One of them can raise the dead. What if Dr. Smart raised a dead body in the morgue, and it killed him?”

“But wouldn’t he have raised a dead body before? And if he had, why would he have continued to work there? He would have been in constant danger, and his secret would have gotten out. But it didn’t, which means he didn’t.”

“Maybe he could control the ability.”

“Maybe he couldn’t.”

“I don’t care what you say,” she grumbled, hating that he was right. Again. “This is the best lead I’ve got.”

“Our definition for the word best differs. Still,” Tucker went on blithely, “it’s worth checking out.”

“I know.” How irritating! As if she needed his permission. “That’s next on my To Do list.”

“What about his parents?”

“Who, Smart’s?”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “No, moron. Aden’s.”

“What about them?” Their current address was burning a hole in her pocket. Finding them had been first on that To Do list she’d mentioned, in fact, and she’d already crossed it off with shocking ease. A search engine, a (stolen) credit card Tucker had given her, and boom. Results.

They were still local; the shame of abandoning their son, when they might have been the only people in the world who could truly help him, hadn’t driven them away. Were they happy with their decision? Regretful?

She’d debated: call Aden and tell him, or not call Aden? In the end, she’d opted for not. For the moment. He had a lot to deal with right now and if she met with the couple first—fine, spied on them—she could make a more informed decision.

“Close up for today,” Tucker said, drawing her back into the conversation, “and let’s find a place to sleep. We’ll head out for …” He paused, waiting.

“Smart’s wife is still here in Tulsa, close to St. Mary’s, the hospital where her husband used to work.” Tulsa, Oklahoma. Which was two hours away from Crossroads, Oklahoma. Two hours away from Riley.

Not that she’d imagined him driving that stretch of highway a thousand times.

“Good.” Tucker nodded. “Did you read the man’s obituary?”

“Yes.”

“Checked out his family?”

“As best as I could.” He’d left the wife behind, but no one else had been mentioned.

“And you have an exact address?”

“No. I thought I’d drive around until a golden ray of sunlight shined down from the heavens and spotlighted the house.”

“Sarcasm again. Not your best look.”

“Then stop asking dumb questions.”

He sighed, the last sane guy in existence. “We’ll drive there in the morning. Does that work for your timetable?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He stretched out his hand and waved at her. “Come on.”

With a sigh of her own, she placed her hand in his. As he stood, he pulled her to her feet. He helped her into her jacket and tugged her out of the microfiche area. Just before they walked into the main library, someone screamed. A girl. Hush Girl, maybe. Fearing the worst, Mary Ann tried to turn around and see what was going on. Tucker threw his arm around her shoulders and forced her attention straight ahead.

“Believe me. You don’t want to see.”

No attacking witches or fairies, then. “What did you do?” she whispered fiercely. And she knew he’d done something, the turd.

“Let’s just say the snake under her desk is trying to converse with her,” he replied with another wicked grin.

Of course.

They stepped outside, into the moonlight and cold. She tugged the lapels of her jacket closer and glared up at him. “I thought you couldn’t cast illusions when you were so close to me.”

His grin widened, and all she could see was straight white teeth flashing down at her in the darkness. She looked away before she gave into the urge to slap him. Repeatedly. Cars whizzed along the street in a zoom, zoom rhythm. No one stood on the sidewalk, and there were no insidious shadows lurking nearby. Searching had become a habit.

“Well?” she insisted.

He leaned down, as if sharing a naughty secret. “Let’s just say my skills are going nuclear.”

Or her ability to mute was fading, she thought suddenly, and her eyes widened. Oh, please, please, please, let her ability be fading. If she stopped muting powers, she might stop draining energy, too. And if she stopped, she could see Riley again. Could kiss him again. Could finally—please, finally—do more. Without worry.

“Okay, why did that make you so happy?” Tucker asked, suspicious.

What did he have to be suspicious about? “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Demon.”

He cleared his throat as if fighting a laugh. “That’s not really an insult for me, you know.”

“I know.” She practically skipped along the concrete. Even the thought of safely seeing Riley lightened her mood. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay?”

Tucker had to quicken his step to remain beside her. “What moment?”

“This moment.”

“Why? There’s nothing special about it.”

“There could be if you shut your mouth.” This time, he laughed outright. “Remind me why I dated you.”

“No. I’d only throw up in my mouth.”

“Nice, Mary Ann,” he said, but he was still grinning.

“I try.”

FIVE

THE SCREAMS THAT HAD RAZED Aden’s mind for such a torturous eternity ceased abruptly, and he knew only silence. Yet, the silence was worse because, without the distraction, he became aware of a thick, gloomy fog surrounding him, writhing with malicious glee.

Escape, he needed to escape. He would die if he stayed here. Surely the fog would suffocate him. Was even now trying to do so. Determined, he clawed his way through, climbing … climbing … his body broken, throbbing … climbing … climbing … higher and higher until—

His eyelids sprang apart.

First thing he noticed, the fog had dissipated. Still, the world around him was hazy, as though smeared with Vaseline. He sucked in a deep breath to center himself, then growled. There was something sweet in the air, and his mouth watered. His blood heated.

Taste.

Someone called his name. A girl, her voice layered with concern and relief. He blinked, gradually clearing away the film, and sat up, ignoring the aches and pains shooting through him. His gaze panned the … bedroom. Yes, he was inside a bedroom. Or a snowstorm. All that white—white walls, white carpet, white furnishings—was as overwhelming as it was familiar.

A girl approached him, her hands wringing together and twisting the fabric of her black robe. Finally, a shade other than white. Long dark hair cascaded over one delicate shoulder. She had pale skin, smooth and flawless, and the loveliest blue eyes he’d ever seen.

She reached out, slowly, so slow, to feel his brow. The sweetness in the air thickened, and the urge to taste increased. Though he wanted to bite her, he leaned away from her touch.

Hurt consumed her features.

Within seconds, she masked the emotion and squared her shoulders. “I’m glad you’re awake,” she said, voice devoid of any emotion as well.

Fangs peeked from between her lips, he noted. Vampire. She was a vampire. A vampire princess. Her name was Victoria, and she was his girlfriend. The details came at him like they were baseballs being shot from a pitching machine. Yet no reaction accompanied them. “How do you feel?” she asked.

He just looked at her. Feel? His nerve endings had calmed, and he didn’t feel anything.

She gulped. “You were asleep for nearly four days. We gave you medication to quiet the souls, just in case they were the ones keeping you under.” Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced over her shoulder. “We didn’t feel we had any other choice.”

We, she kept saying. Implying someone had helped her.

“Can we get you anything?”

We again. Aden panned the room a second time and noticed a guy standing in the far corner. Tall, strong, dark hair, green eyes. Riley. A wolf shape-shifter and an all-around pain in the ass, but he was a good guy nonetheless.

A human girl stood beside him. How Aden knew she was human, he wasn’t sure. He’d never met her before. She was nervous, moving her weight from one sandaled foot to the other, her short crop of blond hair dancing over her shoulders, her brown eyes looking anywhere but at him, and her freckled skin chalk white.

Again the sweetness in the air intensified. Except now it was layered with something spicy, and his entire body vibrated with anticipation.

Anticipation. His first emotion since waking up, and it consumed him.

“Thirsty,” he croaked.

Victoria reached out, not to touch him but to offer her wrist. Distantly he recalled drinking from that wrist. His gaze lifted. And from that elegant neck. And that gorgeous mouth. He’d been besieged with need, utterly intoxicated. And he’d hated himself. He recalled that, too.

Also, he’d hated her. Or at least, a part of him had.

That part of him must have grown, taken over. Because, looking at her now, so lovely and serene, he wanted to grab her arms and shake her. To hurt her as she’d hurt him. To punish her for what she’d done to him.

The urges surprised him. What had she done to him? Besides try to turn him into a vampire. Besides feed him and feed from him. Besides fight him to survive. All of which he understood and accepted.

“Aden?” She wiggled her wrist.

The moisture in his mouth heated and burned, demanding relief, demanding … blood. He recognized the sensation and was leaning toward her before he registered the fact that he was moving at all. Just before he sank his teeth into her skin, he stopped. What was he doing? He needed blood, yes, but not hers. Hers was dangerous. Addictive.

Shaking, he pushed her arm away—the part of him that still craved her screamed in protest. Her skin was warm, and though not as hot as before, he tingled where they’d touched all the same. He wanted to be touched again and again and again.

Focus on the human. “You,” he said, nodding to her. He refused to fall under another girl’s spell. If he did, he might not recover. There was no way anyone would affect him the way Victoria did. Surely. “Do you want to feed me?”

That dark gaze at last zoomed in on him. “Y-yes.”

Truth or lie? “Are you nervous?”

“Of you?” She shook her head with conviction, but her subsequent stuttering contradicted the motion. “N-no.”

She wasn’t scared of him, but she was scared of something. That wouldn’t stop him. “Good. Come here.”

Riley and Victoria shared a long, dark look. More than a look, actually. He knew Riley was pushing his thoughts into Victoria’s head, and shrugged. Let them say—or not say—what they wanted. Nothing would change his decided course of action.

Finally Victoria nodded, moved backward, and the wolf shifter gave the human a little push in Aden’s direction. She scooted around the princess, remaining out of striking distance, and Aden suddenly comprehended the reason for her upset. She feared Victoria.

Smart of her. Victoria watched her through narrowed eyes, poised to launch into an attack at any second. Were they enemies? No, they couldn’t be. No one was more protective of Victoria than Riley, and the wolf never would have let the human through the door if that had been the case. So … what was the problem?

Only when the girl was at Aden’s side did she relax. She curtsied, grinned. “What can I do for you, my king?”

He didn’t allow himself to study his vampire and her reaction to the girl’s query. “Let me have your arm.”

Instantly she reached out. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist. It was thicker than Victoria’s, with a little more meat under her skin. As hot as Aden’s body temperature now was, the human felt chilled.

He absorbed her scent, testing it. Sharper than what he craved, he mused, with more spice than sweetness, but he could deal. Already his stomach was twisting, knotting. He urged her closer … opened his mouth.

“Wait. You’re going to hurt her,” Victoria snapped, beside the girl in the blink of an eye and jerking her from Aden’s hold.

The human gasped and trembled.

Aden growled, even as the scent of the vampire stirred up some kind of animal inside him. A wild thing, cohabitating in a place where there was no room for emotion, only instinct honed on a battlefield.

Mine, that wild thing said.

Never yours, the other part of him hissed.

“You don’t have fangs.” Victoria raised her chin. “So, like I said, you’ll hurt her. I’ll bite her and—”

“I’ll bite her.” Fangs or not, he knew how to feed. Hadn’t he proven that to Victoria, over and over again?

The memory had his gaze falling to her neck, where her pulse hammered swiftly. The ache in his gums returned. Mine, he thought again. Mine to bite and to drink from and to kiss.

You don’t even like her. Not anymore.

“I’ll bite her,” she continued through gritted teeth, “and you can drink from her.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond. She simply lifted and bit.

The human closed her eyes, moaning as the pleasure hit her. Pleasure Aden knew very well and still craved, despite his determination to remain aloof.

Vampire fangs produced some kind of drug that numbed your skin and flowed straight into your veins, warming you up, making you feel good, too good. Which was exactly why so many humans became addicted, willing to do anything for another nibbling.

Not him. Never him. Not again.

A second passed, then another. Victoria lifted her head. Blood wetted her lips a deep scarlet, and Aden wanted to lick them. Instead, he forced his gaze on the two punctures in the human’s wrist. Blood wetted there, too, and he groaned. What he didn’t do was chastise Victoria for disobeying him. What right do I have to chastise her? He simply claimed the arm offered to him and brought the wound to his mouth.

He licked once, twice, tasting ambrosia, groaning again, before sucking, letting the nectar fill his mouth, swallowing, his eyes closing in the same surrender the human had experienced. And yet, in the back of his mind, he thought that as wonderful as this blood tasted, it should have tasted better. Should have been sweeter, with only a little hint of that spice.

“—has no fangs, yet he still craves blood,” Riley was saying as Aden became aware of his surroundings again. “It’s unheard of.”

“Apparently not,” Victoria snapped. “Look at him. He’s enjoying every moment of this.”

“Enjoying? His eyes look dead, and have ever since he woke up. Something’s wrong with him.”

Aden knew they were talking about him, but just as before, he didn’t care.

“Well, she’s enjoying it, then,” Victoria added, words sharp as a whip. “If I wasn’t holding her back she’d be grinding on him.”

“Do you want me to deny that?” the wolf muttered. “Because we both know I’d be lying.”

“You’re a terrible friend.”

“Whatever. Just don’t kill her afterward. To borrow her, I had to promise Lauren you’d do her laundry for a week. And I had to promise you’d do it forever if any harm came to her slave.”

“Thanks a lot. You couldn’t have asked Lauren for a male?”

A tremor rocked the human. Of fear? Or was she still too lost to the pleasure to care, either?

“I’m only guessing here, but I don’t think humans—even former humans—are like us. They can’t separate feeding from sex. I figured Aden would appreciate a female.”

“Well, he’s appreciating her too much!” Riley arched a brow at Victoria. “Are you jealous, princess?”

“No. Yes. He’s mine.” A pause. “Well, he was. Now … he pushed me away. Twice. Did you see him push me away?”

“Yeah, I did, but he loves you, Vic. You know that.”

“Do I?” she asked softly.

Did he? Aden wondered. Even though he didn’t like her at the moment? Because, as he knew, you didn’t have to like someone to love them. A lesson he’d learned as a child, when his parents had him committed, then walked away and never looked back.

He hadn’t liked them, might even have hated them, but even still, he’d loved them. At least at first. But as the days had passed in a medicated haze, as other patients beat him up and called him names, that love had withered, leaving only the hate. Then, the hate, too, had left him, and he simply hadn’t cared. He’d had the souls.

His souls. Where were his souls? They weren’t chattering, and he couldn’t feel them in the back of his mind. Did Victoria have them?

No longer was she watching him. Her gaze had moved just over his shoulder, perhaps even outside the room. Her eyes were as blue as before, no longer mixed with green, brown and gray. No, the souls were not inside her head.

They must be in his, and the medication must have put them to sleep. Another reason to dislike Victoria. The souls were his best friends, and a few times over the years, they’d been his only reason to live. They despised his medication and would not be happy when they woke up. She’d known that, yet she’d forced the pills down his throat anyway.

“Yes,” Victoria finally said. “He loves me. I know it.”

She did? She was a step ahead of him, then. Once, he had loved her; he knew that much. And why wouldn’t he have? She was flawless, a walking fantasy. But what did he really know about her?

Bad—to her, humans were nothing more than food. Bad—she could enslave with a single bite. Good—she cared about her family. Bad—her father wanted to kill him. Good—she knew he was different than other humans and vampires, and she liked him anyway. Bad—she was insensitive to humans and their needs. Good—she was trying to be sensitive to humans and their needs.

During their one and only date, she had danced around him, telling jokes. Lame ones, but she’d been trying. For him. Trying to be what she thought he wanted and needed. So, yes, he had loved her. But now? He couldn’t summon a single spark or hint of softness.

Oh, the attraction was still there. He wanted to push the human away and fall on the vampire. He wanted his teeth in her neck and his body pinning hers. He wanted her hands on him, and her mouth on him, and he wanted her gasping his name.

Even as the thoughts drifted through his head, images formed. Of her, of him, of the two of them together, doing exactly what he wanted. What he wanted so badly he was actually growling, the guttural sound rising in his throat and spilling into the bedroom, echoing menacingly between them.

Victoria must have assumed the growl was for the human. Suddenly she vibrated with anger and concern. He could actually taste the emotions in the air, and they had him sucking at the human with renewed fervor.

The human moaned her approval.

Strength was infusing his cells. His muscles were expanding, his bones humming. And, wow. If this human female affected him so powerfully, how would the vampire affect him?

“Okay, enough.” Riley strode to the bed, grabbed the human, and jerked her away from him. “Leave,” the wolf told the girl.

“I … I …” She swayed. “Yes, of course.” Then footsteps sounded, the slam of a door.

“Victoria.” When the wolf stretched a hand out to the vampire, Aden jumped to his feet and moved between them, preventing contact. An instinctive urge to protect what was his.

“Are you thinking to fight me or her?” Riley asked, seemingly unconcerned by either choice.

“Neither.” Both. He might not like Victoria, but he still wanted her. He didn’t want anyone else to have her. The impulse … the two needs … warring … what the hell was wrong with him? He was like two different people.

“O-kay. Why are your claws out?”

Claws? Aden looked down, and sure enough, his nails had lengthened and sharpened, little daggers tipping his fingers. He should be freaked out but could only lift his hands to the light, studying this newest development. “How is this possible?”

Riley blew out a breath and said, “Either you’re changing into a vampire slowly, one modification at a time, or you’re the first human-vamp hybrid. To my knowledge. Now, are you going to back off or do I have to make you?”

A little bark of amusement escaped him. Little, yes, but amusement all the same. “You could try.”

Clearly not the response the wolf had expected. He blinked, shook his head. “Look, we’ll come back to the male pissing contest in a second. There’s something wrong with you, and I don’t know how deep the problem goes. So we’re gonna have a little chat and find out.”

Behind him, Aden heard Victoria shift from one foot to the other. The fine hairs on the back of his neck lifted, his skin doing that tingling thing. He scowled. He was that aware of her? “There’s nothing wrong with me. There, we talked. Now, gather my people in the great hall.”

The words echoed with threat, surprising Aden as much as they did Riley. Only recently had he accepted his right to rule, but never once had he thought of the vampires as “my people.” But they were, and now he had plenty to say to them.

“There is something wrong with you, Aden,” Riley insisted. “You haven’t even asked about Mary Ann. She’s out there somewhere, on her own, perhaps in danger. Do you not care about her anymore?”

A flicker of emotion sparked in his chest, extinguished before he could figure out what it was. Or what it meant. “She’ll be fine,” he said.

“Are you sure about that? Has Elijah told you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. And no, he hasn’t.”

Hope bloomed and died in Riley’s eyes. “Then how are you sure?”

Because he wanted to be, and in that moment Aden was certain he got what he wanted. Always. And if he didn’t, he did whatever was necessary to change the circumstances.

Wait. Was that true? He couldn’t think of a specific example, buuut … he simply knew. He shrugged. That was good enough for him.

Maybe there was something wrong with him. Not that he cared about that, either, he realized. He would talk to his people, as planned.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” Aden said. “You’ve got some gathering to do.”

“Gather them yourself, majesty.” Riley huffed and puffed, his shoulders straightening, squaring. Aden’s lips twitched in renewed humor, but he wasn’t sure why that would be funny to him. “I’m going after Mary Ann. Victoria?”

“She stays,” Aden said, the words leaving him before he could stop them. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, he wanted her with him. “Victoria?” the wolf snapped.

“I did this to him,” she said softly. “I have to stay with him and make sure … you know.”

Aden didn’t know what “you know” was, and he still didn’t care. He was getting what he wanted: her presence. That was enough. For now.

Riley popped his jaw. “Very well. Keep your cell with you at all times, and call if you need anything. Anything at all. And I’ll call you if I learn anything. Be careful.”

“Always.”

A stiff nod in Aden’s direction, and then Riley was turning on his heel, marching away.

Aden didn’t spare Victoria a glance and certainly didn’t thank her. He wasn’t one to say thanks, ever. Right? Even though the desire to do so sparked and died in the same place as that unnameable emotion for Mary Ann. He simply strode to the room’s only window, a bay that opened on to a balcony, determined to call his people together on his own.

SIX

VICTORIA REMAINED IN PLACE AS Aden stood on her balcony, doing nothing … waiting for … she wasn’t sure. He wasn’t “chatting with his people,” though. He was alone, barefoot and unconcerned by everything around him. Oh, and someone else’s blood flowed in his veins. The knowledge irritated her when it should have delighted her. He was alive. He was awake.

She was still irritated. Despite everything, she wanted her blood in his veins. Her blood making him stronger.

Get over yourself already. The open balcony doors let the chilled morning air inside the room, and she shivered. For the first time in her life, she would have welcomed a coat. Something, anything, to melt the frost practically glossing her exposed skin.

How was Aden not shivering? He was bare-chested, deliciously so. Rope after rope of muscle lined his stomach and neatly patterned his back. Tragically, he wore jeans. Clean jeans, at least. She’d washed and changed him while he’d slept. And she hadn’t looked at anything improper. Except for those two—four—times. Riley had been too distracted to ask about those sponge baths, for which she was grateful.

Looking where she shouldn’t, how very human of her. Once, Aden would have been proud about that. Now … she had no idea what was going on inside his head or how he’d react to, well, anything. She knew only that Riley was right. Something was wrong with Aden. He wasn’t himself. He was colder, harsher.

Challenging.

Vampires were all about tossing challenges at the weak and vulnerable. And the weak and vulnerable accepted those challenges or they endured an eternity of slavery by declining. Then, when they lost, they endured an eternity of slavery anyway. Difference was, by accepting and losing, they weren’t teased and tormented, too.

Vlad had set the rules, of course. He despised weakness and cowardice, he’d claimed, and the challenges were a way to weed out the “unworthy.”

Did Aden plan to challenge everyone?

A movement in the sky captured her attention, and she watched a black bird soar past. The sun was hidden behind gray clouds, and perhaps even a thick layer of glassy rime. The angels were ice-skating up there, her mother would have said.

Her mother. How Victoria missed her. For the past seven years, her mother had been locked away in Romania, a prisoner charged with sharing information about vampires with humans. Vlad had even forbidden his people from speaking her name. Edina the Swan.

Even thinking it gave Victoria a thrill. Rebellion was new to her.

Then, when Aden was dubbed the man in charge, he’d freed the woman at Victoria’s behest. She had expected her mother to teleport to Crossroads so they could be together again. Only, Edina had decided to remain in her homeland.

As if Victoria wasn’t important enough to bother with.

She wanted to be important to someone. And had been. To Aden. Since the first moment he’d spotted her, he’d made her feel special. Now.

Her stomach jumbled as she stepped beside him. His attention never strayed from the surrounding forest. Large oaks knifed toward that icy sky, a smattering of blood-red leaves hanging on for dear life. Mostly gnarled limbs stretched out and interlocked, as if the trees were holding hands, bracing themselves for the coming winter.

She wanted to take Aden’s hand but wasn’t sure how he would react.

“I think you should travel back in time,” she said, breaking the silence. She’d given this some thought. If he traveled back to the night Tucker stabbed him, he could prevent all of this. Not just the stabbing, but her attempt to turn him. Their week of feeding, of nearly draining each other, their fighting, this … none of this would happen.

“No.”

That’s it? That’s all her intense pondering got? “No? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“But Aden, you can stop Tucker, once and for all.”

“Too many things could go wrong, and we don’t know what would happen in the new reality. Could be far worse than this one.”

She doubted that. “There’s only one way to know for sure.” Her new favorite phrase.

“No.”

So adamant. He couldn’t like this reality. Could he? “This is mine,” he said matter-of-factly, reminding her of her father.

All right, maybe he could. “Yes,” she said with a shudder.

His gaze moved to the ground below them, and hers followed, seeing the hidden stretch of land as he must. Bleak, yet fighting to survive. Not a single bloom colored the garden, but the bushes were yellow and orange. Ivy still clung to each trellis, though the leaves were light and brittle.

In the center of the yard was a large metal circle, a ward welded into the dirt, seemingly innocuous whirls intersecting through every inch. The metal could move and open, creating a platform that lowered into the crypt where her father had been buried.

Without a word, Aden climbed the balcony railing and straightened, his balance precarious at best.

“What are you doing? We’re too many stories up. Come down! You—”

He stepped off.

A yelp escaped her as she bent over the rail, her heart stopping as she watched him fall … fall … land. He didn’t splat or crumple as expected. He simply uncoiled from a crouch and walked out of the backyard, all liquid grace and lethal determination.

Victoria had done the same a thousand times before. Perhaps that was why she didn’t hesitate to follow him over. “Aden, wait!” Cold, biting air lifted her hair and robe.

As she tumbled toward the flat, hard surface, she remembered her new, human skin. She flailed, trying to claw her way back up. Then it was too late. She—

Hit.

Her knees vibrated from impact, and she collapsed, slamming into one of the ward’s metal bars. During that impact, oxygen heaved from her lungs. Worse, her shoulder popped out of place and the agony nearly undid her. For hours—maybe just a few minutes—she lay panting, shivering from cold and shock, tears scalding her eyes and catching in her lashes.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said through chattering teeth. Though the sun was hidden behind those clouds, though the air seemed layered with frost, her skin began to prickle as if she were close to reaching vampire maturity and burning.

What was wrong with her? Besides the thousand other things she’d been dealing with lately?

Footsteps reverberated, and suddenly she could scent Aden in the air. That amazing fragrance of—she sniffed, frowned. He smelled different. Still amazing, but different. Familiar. Like sandalwood and evergreen. A mystic from long ago, yet coldly alive, and now as spicy as the human girl had been.

I will not let jealousy overtake me.

Victoria opened her eyes, unsure when she’d closed them. Aden was leaning down, spotlighted by rogue rays of light that had escaped their cloudy prison. His expression was as impassive as before. Dark hair fell over his eyes—eyes of startling violet.

Since she’d known him, she’d seen him with eyes of gold, green, brown, blue and black, but the violet had not appeared until their time in the cave.

When he reached out, she thought he meant to help her up. She offered him a small, waxen smile. “Thank you.”

“I would not thank me, if I were you.” He latched onto her shoulder, and sharp pain lashed through her. “What do you—”

He forced the bone to pop back into place, and she discovered what true pain really was. A scream ripped from deep inside her. Birds took flight, probably desperate to escape the horrendous, ear-piercing sound. “You’re welcome,” he said, straightening. She would take that to mean I’m really truly very sorry I hurt you, my love. “Next time—”

“There won’t be a next time. You won’t be jumping from the railing again. Promise me.”

“No, I—”

“Promise me,” he insisted. “Stop cutting me off.”

“All right.”

When he offered nothing else, exasperating her, she rasped, “Why did you jump? You could have walked through the house to reach the bottom.” And saved her a panic attack and dislocated shoulder.

“This way was faster.” He pivoted on his heel and marched away. Again.

“Wait.”

He didn’t wait.

Cursing under her breath, Victoria gathered enough strength to stand. Her knees trembled and nearly buckled, but she somehow found the will to remain upright. She trailed after Aden, feeling like a puppy on a leash. A bad puppy who didn’t want to go on a walk and had to be dragged.

Aden never once glanced back to make sure she was okay or even to ascertain that she was there. He just didn’t care, and that hurt worse than her shoulder, cutting at her insides, making her cringe. To him, she either followed or she didn’t, and neither choice evoked emotion.

“Why do you want to talk to everyone?” she asked.

“A few things need to be straightened out.” He strode to the front of the house, up the porch steps and stopped at the towering, arched front doors. Few vampires were out and about at this time of day, even with the hazy milieu, but those who traipsed the grounds blinked in shock when they spotted him, then quickly bowed to show their respect.

A minute ticked by.

More minutes ticked by.

“Um, Aden. You have to walk through a door to enter a house. Standing here won’t do anything.”

“I will. First, I’m surveying what’s mine.”

Once again, he sounded like her father—or Dmitri, her former betrothed—and she chewed at the inside of her cheek in disgust. She hadn’t been fond of either man. Please, please let Aden return to his normal self when the pills wear off.

What would she do if he didn’t?

She wouldn’t think about that right now. She would just get through the day, help Aden conduct his meeting, for whatever reason, guarding him all the while, and then, later, if necessary, she would worry.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked, recalling the first time she’d brought him here. He’d taken one look at the Queen Anne–style mansion—the asymmetrical towers, the gothic stones and glasswork, the narrow windows with their prominent eave brackets sharpened to deadly points and the steeply pitched roofs, all painted a grim black—and grimaced.

“Yes.”

One-word answers were annoying, she decided.

Finally he pushed the double doors open and entered. His gaze swept the spacious foyer, taking in the black walls, the crimson carpet, the antique furniture polished to a perfect shine, and he frowned.

“I know the layout of this place. There are thirty bedrooms, most of them upstairs. There are twenty ornate fireplaces, several rooms with parquet floors, several with red sandstone, a great hall, a throne room and two dining rooms. But I’ve never seen more than this room, your bedroom and the backyard. How is that possible?”

Excellent question. “Maybe … maybe when we exchanged memories all those times, some of mine stuck.”

“Maybe.” He flicked her a blank glance. “Do you recall anything about me?”

Oh, yes. Mostly she remembered the beatings he’d received in a few of the mental institutions he’d lived in—she wished to punish those responsible. She also remembered the isolation he’d endured in several of the foster homes he’d stayed in, the parents afraid of him but willing to take on his “care” for the paycheck that came with him. Not to mention the rejection he’d suffered time after time from peers who considered him too different to deal with. Too weird.

That was why she couldn’t walk away from him now. No matter how distant or unlike himself he was, she wouldn’t reject him.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Yes, I do.” She didn’t tell him what, though. “Do you recall anything specific about me? Besides this home?”

“No.”

“Oh.” A memory could have sparked compassion. Compassion could have sparked a thousand other emotions, one of them reminding him of just how much he freaking loved her. Or maybe this was for the best. There were some things a girl didn’t want her boyfriend to know about her.

“Wait,” he said, blinking. “I do remember something.”

Hope and dread battled for supremacy. “Yes?”

“When you first came to Crossroads, summoned here because of the supernatural blast Mary Ann and I inadvertently created, you spotted me from a distance and thought, I should kill him.”

Ouch. See? That was one of those things. “First, I told you about that. Second, taken out of context, the thought seems worse than it was.”

“You mean a desire to kill me is a good thing when in context?”

Her teeth gnashed. “No, but you’re forgetting how strange your pull was to us. We didn’t know why you’d summoned us here, what you had planned for us, or if you were helping our enemy. We—”

“Enemies.”

“What?”

“You don’t have one, you have many. In fact, the only race you aren’t at war with is the wolves, and they’d be fighting you, too, if they weren’t so loyal by nature.”

Well, well. An emotion from him. Only, it wasn’t one she’d wanted. He was disappointed. She didn’t understand why. “You have no idea the things that have taken place between the races throughout the centuries. How could you? You’ve been living in your little humanity bubble, unaware of the creatures that stalk the night.”

“And yet I know alliances can be formed.”

“With who? The witches? They know we crave their blood and can’t control our hunger in their presence. They would laugh in your face if you offered a truce. So who does that leave? The fairies? We feed off the humans they consider their children. They would wipe us out if they could. Don’t forget the fairy prince you helped kill, and the fairy princess who then tried to kill you. What about the goblins? They are mindless beings, caring only about their next meal, which just so happens to be living flesh. Our flesh. Shall I go on?”

“Yes.” Glitter in his eyes, a twitch of his lips. “Explain to me why you war with other vampire factions.”

“Explain to me why humans war with other humans.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Most humans desire peace.”

“And yet they still have not found a way to facilitate it.”

“Nor have the vampires.”

They stood there, simply staring at each other in the silence. She was panting again, her aching shoulder rousing her fervor for the subject and perhaps making her snappier than she should have been when Aden had so calmly stated his case.

“Aden,” she said, gentling her tone. “Peace is a wonderful thing. But that’s all it is. A thing—and sometimes the wrong thing. Will you roll over in the name of peace, allowing my father to reclaim his throne, or will you fight him?”

“Fight,” he said without hesitation. “Then I will wage war until the other vampire factions are brought to heel. And if they can’t be brought to heel, they will be annihilated. Examples will be made, and peace will finally reign.”

War at any cost was classic Vlad the Impaler ideology, and not something Aden Stone had ever before supported. Yet, this was the second time in the last five minutes that Aden had sounded exactly like her father. The third time that day.

An idea rolled through her mind, frightening her. Were bits of her father somehow trapped inside him, driving him? If so, how? Aden had tangled with Victoria’s memories, not her father’s. Unless … were these her beliefs? Had they remained with him along with a few of her memories?

Vlad had always viewed humans as food and nothing more, even though he’d once been human himself, and he had taught his children to view them the same way. Power had gone to his head, she supposed. To all their heads. But more than thinking himself superior to humans, he’d thought himself superior to all races. King of Kings, Lord of Lords. Peace had been an afterthought, the road to that peace violent and gruesome.

Better others were wiped out than living and opposing every directive he gave them, Vlad had often said.

After meeting Aden and seeing what he was willing to endure for those he loved, her entire perspective had changed. Vlad shattered. Aden restored. Vlad enjoyed the downfall of others, Aden mourned it. Vlad was never satisfied. Aden found joy where he could.

She envied him for all of that. Not that she was now completely opposed to war. One day, she would have to face off with her father. One day, she would have to destroy him, for he would never allow Aden to rule. Vlad would fight until the end, and he would fight without mercy. Therefore, someone had to deliver that end, and she would rather that someone be her.

Having been inside Aden’s head, she knew just how deeply his past hacked at his joy. He’d hurt people. He’d possessed other bodies, forcing people to do what he wanted, rather than what they believed. All to protect himself or someone he cared about, true, yet the guilt had never left him.

I know the feeling. She still had no idea what she’d done to him, those last few minutes inside their cave, but the guilt was slicing at her, leaving raw, open wounds inside her.

“Distracted?”

Victoria focused on Aden. Were his lips curling into a grin? Surely not. That would mean she had amused him. “Yes. Sorry.”

“You should—” He stiffened, his ears twitching. “Someone’s coming.”

She looked up, and sure enough, two females were pounding down the stairs, black robes dancing at their ankles. Victoria wanted to ask how he’d heard them when she had not but didn’t want to admit her observational skills were inferior.

“My king,” one of the girls said when she spotted him, stopping at the second to last step. She executed a perfect curtsy, pale hair falling over one shoulder.

“My … Aden.” The other girl stopped, as well. Her curtsy was less graceful, but maybe that was because she was eyeing Aden as if he were a slice of candy and she had a sweet fang.

She wasn’t attracted to him, Victoria knew. No, the dark-haired beauty was attracted to power. Which was why she’d challenged Victoria for rights to him.

According to their laws, any vampire could challenge any other vampire for rights to a human blood-slave. Though Aden was acting king, he was still human—or had been, at the time the challenge was issued—and Draven had used the loophole to her advantage, hoping she would take over his “care” and become queen.

They had yet to fight. Soon, though. Soon. Aden had only to announce when and where.

Victoria seethed with the need to put Draven in her place—the crypt outside. There was protecting your loved ones out of duty, and then there was protecting your loved ones for fun. Draven would be given a taste of the latter.

Perhaps Victoria was still like her father, after all.

“Is today my birthday? Look who decided to stop hiding in her room,” Draven said with a pointed look at Victoria. “How courageous of you.”

“You were welcome to knock on that door at any time. And yet you didn’t. I wonder why.”

Draven flashed her fangs.

Bring it.

“Maddie. Draven.” Aden nodded to them both, inserting himself into the “conversation” and taking it over. With no other preamble, he added, “Go to my throne room and await me. I wish to speak with everyone who lives here.”

Victoria’s hands fisted at her sides. He knew the sisters’ names, yet she didn’t think he’d ever before met Maddie the Lovely. Draven the Cunning, yes. Or as Victoria suddenly wanted to call her, Draven the Soon to Die Painfully.

The vampire council had chosen the bitch—oops, was her anger showing again?—to date Aden, along with four others, one of whom had been Victoria’s sister Stephanie, hoping he would choose a wife, while at the same time pacifying mothers and fathers who wanted their daughters aligned with the royal house. Back then, Aden had claimed to desire only Victoria.

Had that changed like everything else?

“What is this meeting about?” Draven asked, batting her lashes at him.

“You will find out when everyone else does.”

While Victoria rejoiced over his abrupt answer, Draven struggled to hide her flare of anger.

When she succeeded, she propped her hip to one side and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “May I stand on your dais?”

Simpering cow.

The forcefulness—the humanness—of the thought surprised her. At least Aden seemed as unaffected by Draven’s seduction attempt as he had about everything else.

“No, you may not,” he said, then added flatly, “But you may sit on the steps next to the dais. I want you close to me.”

She threw Victoria a smug glance. “Because I’m beautiful and you can’t keep your eyes off me?”

Maddie pinched her, clearly trying to shut her up, but Draven waved her hand away. She’d always been her own number one fan.

Aden frowned. “No. The fact is, I don’t trust you, don’t like you and want to make sure I can see your hands. If you go for a weapon, you will be deemed a traitor and imprisoned.”

Every bit of color drained from Draven’s cheeks.

“Wh-what?”

All right, Victoria loved this new Aden.

“May we change our clothing before we enter the throne room, majesty?” Maddie asked softly, and when Aden nodded she pulled her sister away before the girl could say anything else.

Victoria’s mouth opened, snapped closed, opened again, yet no words escaped. Not that she knew what to say. That had been spectacular. Simply spectacular.

Back to business, Aden strode to the far wall and lifted the gold summoning horn hanging there. A thing of beauty, that horn. Solid gold, intricately carved, a dragon’s head curving from the top, scaled claws curving from the bottom and a mouthpiece rounding up into a tail. He placed that mouthpiece at his lips.

“Wait. What are you doing? Don’t—” Victoria raced toward him, only to stop when he blew. A loud wail echoed throughout the entire mansion, bouncing off the walls, vibrating against the floors, rattling the very foundation. “—do that,” she finished weakly.

He must have interpreted “don’t do that” as “do it again,” an easy mistake to make when you failed to listen, because he blew a second time, and another wail resounded.

Dread worked through her, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Finally the wailing ceased, leaving a strange, deafening silence.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said.

“Why?”

Her hand fell to her side. “Uh, because I said not to?”

“Why not use the horn,” he continued, “when it’s out in the open, waiting to be used?”

“It’s out in the open for emergencies only.”

“This is an emergency.”

I will not scream at him. “How so?” Gritted, but not screamed. Good.

“I didn’t want to climb the stairs, call, text, email or wait for the grapevine to inform everyone about my meeting.”

I will not slap him. I absolutely will not. “Well, do you know what your laziness just did?”

“Yes. I summoned my vampires. Efficiently. Quickly.”

Maybe one little slap wouldn’t hurt. “Yes. You also summoned your allies and let your enemies know you are in need of aid. Wait. Let me rephrase. You summoned my father’s allies, and—” she lowered her voice in case anyone was eavesdropping “—he wants you dead—in case you’ve forgotten—and now he’ll have help. Because when he shows up—and he will—they’ll offer their support to him rather than to you.”

Which meant … Her brother would return, she realized. Her brother would return and assist her father.

What would she do if her brother fought her boyfriend?

She’d always loathed the decree that kept her segregated from Sorin, had hoped he would one day seek her out, but he never had. Neither of them had been willing to risk their father’s ire. She’d spied on him a few times, though, watching him flirt with women before coldly maiming the vampires he trained with.

She’d come to think of him as half irreverent brat, half homicidal maniac, and to this day she wondered what he thought of her, or if he would even care to learn. He’d always been Vlad’s staunchest supporter.

Aden winning against her father was a long shot, but Aden winning against her father and her brother? Impossible. Because the only thing that would be sliced was Aden.

She would talk to Sorin—for the first time ever, and sweet mercy, she wanted to vomit from nerves at just the thought—and ask him not to fight. And when she asked him, he would … she didn’t know what he would do.

“If what you say is true,” Aden said, “your father would have snuck in here and used the horn himself. But he didn’t, which means he didn’t want anyone summoned.”

“I—” Had no argument, and he had a point. Still!

Aden shrugged. “Let him—and them—come.”

What would it take to shake him out of this emotionless stupor? “Some will teleport into the surrounding forest. Some will travel as humans travel, but all will make their way here to hurt you.”

“I know. And that’s a good thing. I want my opposition disposed of quickly, in one swoop.”

Back to spouting Vlad’s—her—philosophy, was he? “My brother will be among those who travel here.”

“I know.”

He knew? And he didn’t care? “He’ll die like the others.”

No, he didn’t care. She stared up at him for a long, silent moment. “Who are you?” Her Aden never would have planned something so cruel.

“I’m your king.” His head tilted as his study of her intensified. “Unless you choose to serve your father now?”

“Why? Would you kill me, too?”

His expression became thoughtful, as if he were actually pondering his answer.

“Never mind,” she gritted out. The conversation was only making her angrier. “But my brother—”

“Is not up for discussion. Until Vlad develops the courage to show himself, our little war can’t begin. And it needs to begin, out in the open this time, so that it can end. We cannot have one without the other.”

He’d just spouted another facet of her beliefs. How many times had she said You cannot have an end without a beginning to Riley throughout the years? Countless. Of course, she’d been trying to talk the shifter into letting her misbehave, not trying to convince him to ramp up the hostilities. But here was a question to last the ages: had she been this annoying? “You. Are. Frustrating. Me.”

Aden shrugged, but underneath the casual, unconcerned action, she saw a glimmer of unease work through his expression. First thoughtful, now uneasy. He must not like frustrating her. She hoped.

Hope that was demolished when he said, “Enough. We have things to do,” and strode to the throne room to at last host his precious meeting.

Once again Victoria found herself trailing after him like a puppy. And she didn’t need Elijah to tell her bad, bad things were about to happen.

SEVEN

ADEN STEPPED INTO THE throne room, his bare footfalls silent against the plush red carpeting that formed a path directly to his throne. Black wards were woven into that carpet, and for the first time he could feel the full force of the power wafting from them, slithering around his feet. With every step, that power twined higher and higher, around his calves, his thighs, his waist. His stomach, chest and arms.

He breathed deeply, the constant buzzing in his head finally quieting. The power swirled, forming a halo that lifted strands of his hair, as if he’d just stuck his fingers into a light socket.

He experienced a startling moment of clarity. Of … emotion. Suddenly he was Aden, not the cold-hearted vampire king he’d somehow become. He felt. Guilt, joy, remorse, excitement, sorrow … love.

He reached back, extending his hand, needing to touch Victoria, even in so small a way. He knew she was behind him, each of his cells aware of her every move, her every breath. Every second that passed.

A momentary pause, a gasp of surprise. Her fingers tentatively twined with his, meltingly warm and familiar. “Aden?”

“Yes?”

Her step faltered, and she stumbled into him. He stopped and wrapped his arm around her to hold her up, loving the way she fit against his side. Like a puzzle piece he’d been missing.

“Your eyes … they’re normal.” Hope bubbled in the undertone of her voice.

Normal? “I take it that’s a good thing.”

“Very good.”

He glanced around. Black candelabras lined the front of the concrete bleachers stretching at his sides. Between them were thick marble columns. “I can’t believe this,” he said, shocked that he was really here. “Forget the danger I caused by using the horn. I summoned everyone in here to prove a point, and that point could kill them.”

“What point?”

“I’m too embarrassed to say. I … need to sit down.” He kicked back into motion. When he reached the throne, he eased down, more candles flickering around him, smoke swirling from the tips.

The buzzing in his head started up again. A split second later a grumble sounded, subdued, yet all the more savage and brutal because of that. And just like that, the veil of emotion lifted, leaving him feeling both a biting cold and a sizzling heat, neither of which could surpass his determination to lead his vampires to victory against Vlad.

“I’m so happy, I could cry. How human of me, right? But then, I’m becoming more human by the second, I think. And that’s okay. Yes? That’s good?” A grinning Victoria crouched in front of him, resting her palms on his thighs. “Let’s go back to my bedroom and talk. We’ll …” Slowly her grin faded. “Your eyes.” Her voice was now flat.

“What about them?”

“They’re violet again. Dead.”

He shrugged, unconcerned. “Do I have Chompers inside my head?” The grumbling had tapered off as suddenly as it had begun, but he knew there was something—someone—at the edge of his conscious, waiting, listening … controlling?

If not Chompers, who? Or … what?

A frown as she straightened. “No. He’s with me.”

Aden looked her over. She wore a long black robe, thin straps tying the material on her shoulders. Two tugs, and that robe would drop to the floor, and he could drink from her neck, her chest, even her thighs. Any place he wanted, really.

He gripped the solid gold arms of the throne to ensure his hands behaved. Where were these thoughts coming from? Earlier, he hadn’t been able to decide if he even liked this girl. Now he was imagining undressing her and feasting on her?

“You’re sure about Chompers?” he croaked.

“Completely. I’m warded from neck to ankle just to keep him under control, but I can still hear him.”

A miracle he didn’t ask for proof.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow, after your medication has worn off,” she said on a sigh. “All right?”

He watched her lips as she spoke. They were red and lush, and he wanted to bite them, too.

Maybe he hadn’t taken enough blood from the human. Wait. Scratch maybe. He hadn’t. Otherwise, his mouth would not be watering. His gums would not be aching, his muscles clenching.

“Aden?”

He almost leaped from the throne and threw himself at her. If he didn’t look away, he would throw himself at her. “Stand behind me.” Please.

The demand was harsher than he’d intended, but he didn’t apologize.

Shock rather then affront claimed her delicate features. Then her eyes narrowed, and she pivoted, standing beside him rather than behind him as ordered.

He could still feel the heat of her body, the warmth of her breath trekking over him. Close vicinity of any kind was also a problem, then. But before he could send her away, a female moan echoed, followed by the grunt of a male. Instinctively Aden reached for the daggers strapped to his ankles.

There were no daggers strapped to his ankles.

Didn’t matter. He stood, surveying his throne room. His subjects had yet to enter—he could hear them gathering outside the room, speculating about what he desired. How long would they—

A couple locked in a heated kiss entered through the far left door. The male had his back to Aden, was walking the female toward a column, pressing her against it. Aden saw dark hair in disarray and a T-shirt ripped along the ribs. Saw jeans worn loose and bagging around lean hips. In fact, the only things holding up those jeans were the girl’s legs.

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