No Prince Charming
Author: Shiloh Walker
Date: 2009-12-17 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal Romance; Erotica; Paranormal; Romance; Fantasy; Angels; Urban Fantasy; Demons; Magic; Novella
Description: Her Happy-Ever-After has been a long time coming… Elle spent years trying to get over her so-called Prince Charming, and she’s finally getting the hang of it. A Grimm—a guardian angel with unique gifts—she spends her nights trolling for demons and kicking ass, and lately, her days have been spent with her on-and-off-again lover, Ren, a fellow Grimm. But fate has other plans in store for Elle, plans that include Michael, the prince from her youth who broke her heart. “What do you choose…live for her? Or would you rather die?” That was the choice Michael was given all those years ago. Although h

HER HAPPY-EVER-AFTER HAS BEEN A LONG TIME COMING…

Grimm’s Circle, Book 2

Elle spent years trying to get over her so-called Prince Charming, and she’s finally getting the hang of it. A Grimm—a guardian angel with unique gifts—she spends her nights trolling for demons and kicking ass, and lately, her days have been spent with her on-and-off-again lover, Ren, a fellow Grimm. But fate has other plans in store for Elle, plans that include Michael, the prince from her youth who broke her heart.

“What do you choose…live for her? Or would you rather die?” That was the choice Michael was given all those years ago. Although he knew she’d never forgive him, when Michael was given the chance to become a Grimm, he took it. Still, he isn’t so sure Elle needs him in her life. With a lover at her side and a mission before her, Elle looks like she’s doing just fine.

But the not-so-charming prince isn’t going to back off that easily…not if there’s a chance she might need him again. He’d do anything to save her. Kill for her, live for her, die for her…

Warning: This dark, twisted version of Cinderella involves demons, deceit, and desire between a princess and two sexy guardian angels, both determined to win the fair Cinderella.

Shiloh Walker

COPYRIGHT

No Prince Charming Copyright © 2010 by Shiloh Walker

Original Printing 2018

Reissued 2017

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people.

A TIME TO HEAL

Sometimes his job absolutely sucked.

Will stared sightlessly into the distance. In his mind’s eye, he could see her face, see the broken girl he had nursed back to health all those years ago, the girl who had become his lover for a time. The strong, confident woman she had become…the woman he had…briefly…cared for a great deal.

But that hadn’t lasted.

The flickering lights women brought into his life lasted such a short time.

This woman…well, she’d lasted a bit longer than some.

He wasn’t surprised by the turn of things.

Elle wouldn’t be his.

She had never been his.

No… Elle’s heart now, and had always, belonged to her so-called Prince Charming.

Will smirked, knowing how much that moniker annoyed a certain man. “I only wish I had thought of that one,” he murmured, stroking his medallion.

It pulsed under his hand and he sighed.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know. It’s her time.”

The medallion pulsed again, stronger. Hotter.

Will grimaced. But then he nodded and added, “Yes, his time as well.”

Lucky bastard.

CHAPTER ONE

A cool wind whipped across the parking lot, carrying with it the acrid stink of smoke, the earthy tang of sweat and sex…and a miasma of death.

Not physical death. No, this was worse. Death of the soul, of everything that makes you who you are. Oh, the body will die. But the body dies anyway. The soul doesn’t have to, unless you give it away.

The soul can go on. It’s meant to go on. People aren’t supposed to give their souls away. But they do it anyway.

Though people didn’t realize it, that’s what was going on. Inside that club, people gave away their souls or their bodies or both. I could feel it.

Idiots. There was a line winding around the front of the building, all these fools vying to get inside—there was fun to be had, after all. Dancing. Drinking. Maybe even some drugs, for those looking to score.

A party.

But the real party wasn’t on the main floor.

“Are we going inside or what, Princess?”

I glanced over my shoulder at my partner for this current job and gave him a halfhearted smile. Ren was one of my best friends, and as such, he could get away with calling me Princess without the threat of bodily harm. Come to think of it, he was the only friend who called me that.

I didn’t have many of them and most of the good friends I did have wouldn’t call me princess just because… Well…they knew. At least, they knew enough. It was a nickname that brought back terrible memories.

The first time I’d been paired up with Ren he had caught my hand and pressed a courtly kiss to my knuckles. As he stared at me over my hand, he’d murmured, “I must call you princess. Or perhaps empress. No…goddess. I’ll call you goddess.”

“How about just Elle?” I’d suggested.

“No. Too simple. Too mundane. I need something to remind me that I am in the presence of magnificence…perhaps it will keep me from making too big a fool of myself.”

The other man with us had given a sigh of long-suffering patience and then, that patience at an end, he’d cuffed Ren across the side of the head. “You’ve a job to do, remember. If you can get it through that daft head of yours.”

Looking back, I remember how those words had worried me. The last thing I’d wanted to have to work side by side with was an idiot.

But Ren wasn’t an idiot. I’d learned that quick enough. Before that job had ended, we were friends.

By the time the next job was dealt with, we were lovers.

The on-then-off-again relationship was one of the few constants of my life. At any time, I knew I could go to Ren, find welcoming arms, a warm body, a lot of pleasure…and a decided lack of pressure. I’d drift away and he’d always be there—waiting until I drifted back.

His presence in my life was a comfort.

Sad, that. He’s an amazing lover and the best thing I can say about him?

He’s a comfort.

Like a beloved old blanket. I grimaced. Ren would utterly despise it if he knew that was what he meant to me. It was more than that, of course. But still…

“Well?”

Sighing, I said, “We might as well go in.”

Ren cocked a brow. It was black, black as midnight, arching over eyes the same intense dark shade. His skin was swarthy and dark, his scalp smooth. He’d been that way for as long as I’d known him and I’d spent enough time around him to know that he wasn’t taking a razor to his head every other day.

“Don’t sound so anxious, lovie,” he drawled, his mouth quirking up in an amused smile. “If I didn’t have a healthy ego I might be a bit…concerned.”

I opened the door and climbed out. He did the same and I looked at him over the roof of the car. “Concerned about what?”

“How not excited you are about walking into a sex club with yours truly at your side ready to do your every bidding.” He wagged his brows at me as he brought his arms up, resting them atop the car. He dropped his chin down to rest on them and gave me a winsome smile. “So, my pretty little poppet, are you going to surprise me with a whip? Some chains? A simple pair of handcuffs?”

I rolled my eyes.

“We’ll hold off on the props for now. Remember, we’re just here to investigate.”

“Oh, now you really don’t believe that,” he said, his voice sardonic.

No. I didn’t. Investigation might be the official reason, for now, but it wouldn’t be an investigation for long.

For now though… “Investigation, darling. Remember that.” As I pushed away from the car, I smirked at him and added, “Besides, investigation or elimination, it doesn’t matter… Sex clubs are not my thing. It’s a job.”

“Well, damn.” With a forlorn sigh, he shoved away from the car.

Let it not be said that the man didn’t get into his role.

There was a line of people just waiting to get in and we hadn’t been in that line forty-five seconds when he started…well, feeling me up.

I’d been watching the others around us without appearing to do so, and I already knew these people were not the shy type. They weren’t afraid to be seen, and they certainly weren’t afraid to look.

I was standing with him at my back when he rested his hands on my waist, easing me closer so that I rested against his chest. He pressed a kiss to my shoulder and then he murmured against my ear, “We might as well blend.”

That was all the warning I had before his hands came up, cupping my breasts. Warm hands…hard. Strong. He knew exactly how to touch me and despite the fact that I was extremely self-conscious, I didn’t have to fake the pleasure as I arched into his touch.

I loved the way it felt when he touched me. I had no reason to pretend about that.

I just had to pretend we weren’t being watched.

We didn’t make it into the club that night, but that wasn’t a big surprise, at least not to me.

“We’re at capacity.”

That was the line we were given when we finally got to the door.

Ren looked disgusted. I felt the same way.

At capacity, my ass.

On our way back to the car we saw him let in a few others. This wasn’t exactly the sort of club I preferred to frequent, but clubs like this, whether they were sex clubs or not, tended to be very insular. We’d have to either find somebody to get us in there or hang around until we gained admittance.

“We’ll just find somebody to get us in tomorrow night,” I told him as we headed back to the car.

He opened the door for me but before I could duck inside, he slid his arms around my waist.

“How bad is it in there?” he asked quietly.

I looked over his shoulder back at the club. I lifted a brow. “Can’t you tell?”

He shrugged. “I feel so much demon activity that it feels like I’ve got a hive of fire ants crawling under my skin. But it’s not just demons we need to deal with here, is it?”

“No.” Sighing, I dropped my head onto his chest. When his arms tightened around me, I let myself relax and snuggle against him. He stroked a hand down my back, resting it just above the swell of my ass. The wind tugged and played with the hem of the short, flirty skirt I’d worn but as long as I stayed close to Ren, I was warm.

Unless I started thinking about what waited inside that club.

“It’s too late for some of them,” I whispered.

Too late.

But then again, that wasn’t anything new.

Back again.

Damn it, this time we were going to get inside that damn club no matter what.

We’d taken last night off, pretty certain we’d come over a little too eager if we camped out three days running.

“Relax, Princess,” Ren said, resting his hand on my leather-clad knee as I put the car into park. “We’ll get in there.”

I made a face at him and tried to work up the enthusiasm to head inside so I could find the real party—and crash it. I didn’t want to be here. Especially not tonight.

I couldn’t understand why, but something inside me wanted me gone.

Back away…slowly…and nobody gets hurt.

That’s what I wanted to do—back away. Actually, I wanted to run away.

Instead, I climbed out of the car and met Ren at the back. He smiled at me and stroked a finger down the chain I wore around my neck. It carried a simple medallion, one tucked between my breasts. I’d known what I’d be wearing tonight and I’d taken the precaution of wearing a longer chain, tucking my medallion inside the low-cut, tight-fitting bodice.

It just wouldn’t do for it to come out and catch the wrong eye.

“Come on,” I said with a grim sigh. “Let’s get this done.”

The sooner we finished, the sooner I could get out of here.

I needed a break…a break away from the job, from Ren, from everything.

Through the mess of bodies, the layers of concrete and the distance between us, I could feel them.

Succubi. Incubi. They were responsible for this little party. Who was the leader?

Succubus, incubus, it didn’t matter—they all functioned the same. The lesser demons acted like drones and their sole purpose in life was to have sex as often as possible—it was their food. And the king or queen would feed through them. On occasion, when they found a tasty morsel, a king or queen would take a human, but they usually just let their drones do the work for them while they lay back in a semi-stupor, drunk from the sexual energy they absorbed.

And damn, there was a lot of that energy here. I hadn’t even gone inside and I could feel it.

By my admittedly jaded eyes, there were a good three hundred people crammed inside a building meant for less than half that—at the most. I might not have seen inside the building yet, but I could feel them, sense them. After so many years of doing this, I’d developed a pretty good radar for the job.

A lot of people. All of them young, all of them looking to party.

Ripe pickings for the likes of the succubi and incubi.

The wind was cold again. Or still. It wasn’t like it had warmed up an awful lot since the first night I’d been here—that was actually about ten days earlier, when I’d first landed this assignment. I’d waited a week to get started. The one look I’d gotten of this place had assured me that I didn’t want to do this one alone and I’d had to wait a week for Ren to show his face and act as backup.

I barely managed not to shiver and wished I could have found something a little less revealing. Something warmer.

It was early May, but right here on the edge of Lake Erie, it was still cool.

This was not where I wanted to be.

Honestly, I really don’t understand why anybody would come to Sandusky, Ohio, of all places, unless they had to. Or unless they were some of the strange people who flocked to the nearby amusement park to have their brains scrambled on the metal behemoth monsters. Roller coasters. Why in the world somebody would choose to subject themselves to that, I’d never know.

Now I’m not into roller coasters and all that, but I know some people love them. Other than the amusement park, I can’t see the appeal. There’s the lake, but I’m not exactly the outdoor-girl type. There’s not much shopping, although there is a decent Borders, so at least I’d been able to pick up some books.

Still, I can’t see the appeal of the tourist town. I just can’t.

Ren though, had spent last night at the amusement park. I’d declined. Going into someplace packed with people and big metal rides that made you move way too fast? Not my idea of fun.

There wasn’t much here to grab my attention, but I could see why it seemed to do so for the demonic.

It was the life.

The pulse, the throb, the rhythm.

The demons were drawn to the life.

“We’ve got to get inside tonight,” I told Ren. Halfway across the parking lot, I picked up my pace. “It’s getting darker in there. We’re going to lose more if we don’t move soon.”

There was so much life…so much emotion.

Lust. Anger. Jealousy. Need. Love. Rage. Hatred.

Emotions—uncontrolled emotions drew predators. That’s why the demons were here. Wherever there were people there would be emotion. And wherever there was emotion there would be demons.

Wherever there are demons there would be Grimms.

There would be us. Unlikely guardian angels trying to keep the unsuspecting mortals from making bad, bad and worse mistakes.

That was our job. We would do it. We would do the job. We would deal with the succubi and incubi. We would find the king or queen and eliminate them. Then Ren or I would hang around long enough to make it clear this area was now under the Circle’s watch.

If I had my way about it, it would be Ren hanging around. If at all possible, I wanted to clear the hell out the second we dealt with the king or queen.

I was planning on getting out of Ohio as quick as possible.

Maybe head for New York this time. Or Chicago—

No. Screw that. I was going to Milan. And the Circle could pick up the damn ticket, too.

I’d asked for a break and I’d ended up with an assignment instead.

They owed me that break, damn it.

I took a deep breath and glanced down at my clothes. Barbie goes badass. That was the look I’d been going for. I had on a black silk corset and, unlike some of the corsets I’d seen around lately, mine was the real thing—it pushed my boobs together and up, cinched my waist and kept my spine ramrod straight.

I was as comfortable in one as anybody could hope to be, but then again, I’d had a lot of practice. I’d grown up wearing these things when I had to—thanks to a doting father, I hadn’t spent my entire childhood in one.

But I had worn them often enough.

Never one quite like this though. Black-on-black silk brocade with blood-red lacing. I’d paired it with leather pants and heels that would break my neck—if I fell, and if I could break my neck in such a mundane manner. Which I can’t. I’d pulled my blonde hair into a high ponytail, gone a little heavy with the black eyeliner and red lipstick.

Barbie does badass, with a little bit of Dominatrix Barbie thrown in for good measure.

“You look delicious,” Ren said as he kissed one bare shoulder. “You sure you don’t have a whip lying around?”

“Oh, please.” I smirked at him and took a few seconds to adjust the bodice. I had my pendant tucked between my breasts. Wasn’t very comfortable, but I couldn’t afford to have the wrong person see it, nor could I afford to be without it. There wasn’t any room for weapons on me, but that had been intentional.

I wanted to look around this first trip in, not fight. I’d made that clear to Ren as well, but he’d have weapons on him. I knew that as sure as I knew my own name.

Still, I knew I could trust him not to draw them unless he had to.

I just hoped nobody forced his hand…or mine. I might not have weapons, but I’m pretty far from helpless.

The air closer to the building felt hot and heavy, a warning of what lay inside.

I’d known from the get-go this wouldn’t be a quick, easy job. I might have been harboring hopes, but they were dying, fading, withering away with every second I remained close to this abyss of darkness.

“Should be a piece of cake,” he had told me. Those had been my boss’s exact words.

“Will, one of these days, I’m going to kick your ass,” I said to myself.

“Hmmm?”

I shook my head. “Just grumbling about Will. The bastard had the nerve to say this should be an easy job.”

“Well, so far all I’ve done is make out with you in view of others and watch other people making out as well,” Ren shot me his trademark devilish smile and in a low voice added, “Seems remarkably easy.”

“Your luck is about to break.”

This wasn’t going to be easy. It wasn’t going to be quick. We would have to kill while we were here. Not tonight, but sometime before the job was over. I knew it as sure as I was standing there. Possession by succubi or incubi was subtle…a seduction. It started out as just a minor need. Sex—something pleasant…maybe even harmless.

But the more the victim fed that need—through sex, naturally—the stronger the hold. It was like an addiction.

In the early days it was possible to rid the victim of the demon’s presence. Possible, but not easy, and the longer it went on the harder it would become.

Sooner or later, without intervention, the demon would be in control and the need for sex would dominate over anything else. Everything else.

Either the victim literally fucked themselves to death—forgoing food, water, anything and everything that wasn’t sex. The other scenario—the need for sex became so overwhelming they lost all inhibitions and all sense of right and wrong.

I’d saved people in the past before one of the possessed could rape them.

Somebody in there was already too far gone. Either they were killing themselves without realizing it, or I’d have to kill them when they went too far. Personally, I’d rather find whoever it was and just end it now.

A waste. Such a waste. Somebody had given up everything, just for the fun of a few quick fucks.

Do I sound slightly bitter? Sorry. Can’t help it. I’d lost my rose-colored glasses a few hundred years ago. Right about the time I lost my virginity and, shortly thereafter, my Prince Charming.

“Elle.”

Speak of the devil.

I knew that voice. It was the last voice I wanted to hear right now. Unless he was saying something along the lines of, “Ow, that hurts!” as I beat him across the head with a heavy, blunt object.

I stood there, frozen. Although I didn’t want to turn and face the music, my partner had no reservations.

I dug my fingers into Ren’s arm.

Why?

Will. Damn it. He’d done this—orchestrated this. The bastard.

Schooling my features, I turned around and I’m proud to say, I didn’t feel the urge to swoon. Not even for a second.

That angel face of his hadn’t changed at all in the past three hundred years.

He looked as perfect now as he had the day he kissed me for the first time.

Heat flashed through his grass-green eyes as he studied my clothes and despite myself, my belly clenched in response. Why is it that I can barely remember the name of my father, my stepmother, my friends growing up, but I can still remember the way it felt when he made love to me the first time? It had hurt…but then, after he’d cleaned me up, he’d lain between my legs and done things to me that had left me scandalized.

I can still remember the shock. I can still remember the pleasure.

And I can still remember the pain when I discovered the following night that he was engaged to be wed.

To my sister.

“Why…if it isn’t my Prince Charming.”

CHAPTER TWO

Michael had been born a prince, the youngest son to the King of Geran, a small kingdom tucked between France and Italy.

Geran no longer existed, but Michael had not forgotten the lessons of his youth. He’d been born a prince, and he’d had all the arrogance one would expect.

In all his years there had only been one woman who could ever make him feel like a foolish young boy. All he’d ever wanted to do was please her, love her, protect her.

He had failed.

She was the only woman he’d ever met who could render him utterly silent. The only woman who made him want to forget duty, honor, pride.

The only woman who could push him so far past jealousy, well into murderous rage. He was there now, there, and fighting not to let it show as she stroked a hand down her companion’s arm.

There was an intimacy between them, one that couldn’t be mistaken.

The nights they’d been here, he’d watched them. Now, with her standing so close, and that bastard watching him with an insolent, arrogant smile, the rage inside him bubbled and burned, threatening to tear free.

But the rage wasn’t the worst.

The worst was the pain.

Seeing her with another man, it hurt in ways Michael couldn’t even begin to describe.

Elle turned to face him and for the first time, he got a good look at her clothes. A real good look. The air froze inside his chest. Need burned through him. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have swallowed his tongue.

It was a cool night, but he was sweating under the black silk shirt he wore. His palms itched…itched to reach out, cup her hips and draw her close. At the same time, he wanted to pick her up and haul her close, carry her away so nobody else could see her.

Where that bastard standing next to her couldn’t see her, couldn’t touch her, couldn’t kiss her.

She looked like a wet dream come to life.

Her shoulders and arms were bare, as were the mounds of her breasts. Red lace edged the top of the corset, drawing the eye to smooth white flesh. Her waist looked impossibly narrow and her hips flared out, round and perfect. She had a woman’s curves and she’d cradle his body to perfection.

He knew that from experience.

Of course, those experiences were several centuries old. But some things a man never forgot. Some memories never fade.

Like those breasts. Those hips. Those long, leather-encased legs. The silken blonde hair that tumbled down from a tight ponytail, and the big blue eyes that had once looked at him as though he’d hung the moon. The way she’d teased him and made him laugh.

Another memory that didn’t fade? The memory of the pain in her eyes the day she realized who he was. Her stepsister’s fiancé.

Watching her walk away had been the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. To that point.

Since then, his life had been a study of hard lessons. Watching as another man touched this woman was just the latest lesson.

Living a long, empty life without her. Watching her turn away from him. Running after her only to find her too late. By the time he’d caught up with her she was forever out of his reach—unless he made a choice.

“The day will come when she will need you. The day will come when she will die without you. But it will not be easy. You will spend a great many years alone…you may die saving her and even if you don’t, she may never forgive you. What do you choose…live for her? Or would you rather die?”

That was the choice he’d been given all those years ago by a strange white-haired man who went by the name of Will.

“How can she ever need me again? She is dead. I have failed her.”

“Things are rarely as they seem. The woman you love is not dead.”

Michael closed his eyes, banishing the memories. He couldn’t think of that now, not here. Couldn’t think of losing her, couldn’t think of the night he’d come face-to-face with Will. Couldn’t think about how he had plunged a knife into his own chest either. Through death’s door…and back again. That was how one became a Grimm, and if he wanted to be there for Elle he needed to die.

So he’d died. And Will had brought him back.

All in the hope that one day she would need him. Love him. Forgive him.

Forcing his eyes to open, he gazed at her lovely face. This woman did not need him. This woman did not love him. This woman would never forgive him.

If he had known then what he knew now, he wondered if he would’ve made that same choice.

Will had warned him—you will spend a great many years alone.

Yes. Will had warned him. A great many years. More than three hundred to be exact. He hadn’t expected to wait this long.

All these years, he had been waiting for a second chance. All these years, he had waited for her.

Waited—because he’d been told that she would need him. He’d held onto that, because he loved her, because he wanted to believe she would one day forgive him, one day love him again, one day need him.

And now, here she was…so lovely, so beautiful and strong. So out of reach.

He’d been a delusional fool.

She leaned against her lover and smiled at him. A golden brow arched and she said, “What’s the matter, prince? Cat got your tongue?”

He skimmed his gaze over her once more, wishing he could move in and touch. Wishing he could take and taste. Instead, he tucked his hands into his pockets and inclined his head. “Just trying to understand your choice of clothing.”

“Oh, well, now. I can help there.” Elle gave him a devilish smile and leaned in, her voice a low, silken purr. “It’s a sex club. I’m trying to blend.”

Michael didn’t think Elle could ever blend. No matter what she did.

She was close…so close. Closing his eyes, he took a slow, careful breath, flooding his senses with her scent, reveling in the warmth he felt radiating from her.

But then she pulled back. Gone. Her eyes stared at his and she had a blank, bored expression on her face. “So now that you know why I’m pretending to be S&M Barbie, why don’t you get out of here?”

“I can’t.” Inclining his head, he said, “I was sent here. Told to find you, help you.”

“Help me?” She shrugged. “Sorry, Michael, I’ve already got help.” She inclined her head towards her companion and asked, “Ren, have you met Michael?”

“No.” A cold smile curled Ren’s lips and he stroked his jaw. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Although I’ve heard of you. Quite a bit, actually. But, as you can see, help is already taken care of. Run along now…go crawl back under a rock or something.”

Michael bared his teeth in a grim smile. “I’ll go on along when I’m damn good and ready…what was the name again…Ren?”

The other man opened his mouth to respond and Michael looked away, dismissing him. “He sent me, Elle. You’re stuck with me.”

Elle’s lashes lowered, shielding her blue eyes from him.

But he didn’t need to see her eyes to feel her anger, feel her confusion.

She hid it behind a cool smile just a few seconds later. “I suspected as much. Damn, apparently I went and pissed somebody off but bad, if I got stuck with you.”

Michael managed to hide his wince, but just barely. “I’ll be sure to let him know you didn’t appreciate my presence.”

She didn’t need to ask which him he was talking about—it could only be Will. He was the only one who ever sent them anyway. All orders came through him. For the most part, those who served under Will’s lead didn’t have to follow orders—they knew their responsibilities and they did their jobs.

But every once in a while there came a special case.

Michael didn’t know what was special about this particular job, but if there was a chance in hell that Elle might actually need him, then he’d walk through fire to help her.

And if that meant he’d have to stand by at the side while another man pawed her, so fucking be it. He’d be insane when the job was done, but if she might need him, he didn’t give a damn.

If he was honest, he’d have to admit he’d walk through fire just to see her smile. Burns healed. Doing something that would actually put a real smile on her face? It would be worth a little pain.

He looked at her, itching to press his face against the warm mounds of her breasts. Itching to pull her close and feel her cuddle up against him and stroke his neck the way she used to do.

She was staring at him. Unable to stop himself, he lowered his gaze, rested it on her mouth. That pretty mouth, slicked with wine-red lipstick and curled in a sneer. He looked up and met her eyes.

“Let’s get this done,” she muttered.

Then she turned on her heel and stalked towards the club.

Michael fell in step next to her, ignoring the man on her other side and trying not to stare at her, trying not to growl as he noticed other men doing the same.

This was too much.

Under my shields, I was far too aware of him. Far too aware of the longing I sensed within him. It bore a close resemblance to my own need.

It reminded me of a time best forgotten. Seeing him brought back too many memories. Memories I couldn’t afford to dwell on right now.

We needed to learn more about the succubi, the incubi, and we needed to see if the queen or king was here.

There was a king or queen. There had to be. I could feel the presence of ten demons, easy. If there were that many drones there would be one in control. There might even be more than that inside the club, but I couldn’t tell from out here.

I slowed as we drew closer to the line of people, eying it with disgust. “I really don’t want to wait through that line again, Ren.”

“Nor do I, Princess,” he murmured, toying with the ends of my hair.

Michael stood at my other side, watching the people in line with the same level of interest he’d show to bland watercolor. “We won’t, then.”

“You’ve a better idea, mate?” Ren asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Michael looked at me as he spoke, not Ren. He offered me his arm, a courtly gesture I recognized. The look on his face was the look only the truly royal could manage. It said, I’m a fucking prince, you peasant. Yield and worship.

Might sound arrogant as hell, but that’s how things are with certain individuals. We’d both been born in a time when royalty was worshipped—hell, people still go all ga-ga over royal families. But when we’d been born, not showing a prince the respect he expected could get a man thrown in prison.

I eyed his arm and then looked up at him with a smirk. “You really think the Prince-Charming routine is going to work here?”

“I never was a Prince Charming…Cinderella. But I was a prince. It will work, and you know it as well as I.” He gave me a regal nod, the kind only a prince could do.

I sighed. Hell. He was right.

“Come on, Ren,” I said quietly. I held my arm out and he took it. On the other side, Michael did the same.

“This isn’t going to work,” Ren muttered. “Just walk right on up there like we own the sodding joint—not going to work. Mark my words.”

“Does he ever shut up, Elle?” Michael asked.

“Not often.” I straightened my shoulders and let him lead the three of us right up to the doorway.

If my body went slightly haywire at that light, near-impersonal contact, so what? Once upon a time I’d loved this man, dreamed of marrying him, spending my life with him…back when I still had the naiveté of the young and in love.

As expected, it worked. We were still five feet away from the velvet rope when one of the bouncers lifted it for us. A few people grumbled—I could hear it even over the throb and pulse of the music.

Ren was one of them.

“I don’t believe it,” he muttered. As we stepped into the darkness, he continued in a similar vein.

A faint smile curled Michael’s lips. If his touch did bad things to me, that smile did even worse things.

I went to jerk away from him, but then I realized we had people watching us.

Michael had always drawn attention.

The last thing I wanted right now was to make a scene, so I followed, pulling Ren along as well, when Michael led the three of us to the dance floor.

Hey, I mean, it was as good a place as any to start casing the joint.

Not that I was actually thinking of work.

I had good intentions. Seriously. But then Michael’s arms came around my waist, drawing me close. Ren was at my back and I wanted to press closer to him—lean against him and let him handle it. I’d relied on his strength before and the temptation to do so now was strong.

Keeping one hand on my hip as Michael moved closer, Ren dipped his head and whispered, “How come I never get the undercover work that involves being sandwiched between two lovely ladies who’d love to have their wicked way with me?”

Trying to relax, I smiled at him over my shoulder. “Well, if you start doing that in your free time, you’d start to have a hard time telling the difference between the job and your reality, sugar.”

In front of me, Michael dipped his head and pressed his mouth to my shoulder.

So close. He was so damned close. I could feel his heat, his strength, his chest pressing against mine. All so painfully familiar. I tensed against him and he lowered his head, murmuring, “We’re supposed to blend, Elle.”

Blend, not fuck, I almost snarled at him. But then I caught sight of the people around us. I’d yet to pay them much attention—too distracted by Michael.

I knew what kind of club this was. I did.

I mean, Ren and I had spent a couple hours going just past third base, and with an audience.

But still, it was a fucking shock to see some of the people going at it on the dance floor. Yes. Going at it. Hell, we would’ve blended better if we had been fucking, and we wouldn’t have even been the only threesome going at it either.

Michael’s hand rested on my hip, a mirror of Ren, and a breath shuddered out of me as I let him pull me so close that not even air separated us. It didn’t make me feel any better to realize he wasn’t unaffected by me.

Against my belly, I could feel the hard, firm length of his cock. The green of his eyes glowed and he watched me as though he wished he could swallow me whole.

Hunger. Hunger…and memories.

I recognized both. I lived with their ache every day. It would have been easier to handle if I knew he didn’t want me. Desire hadn’t ever been the problem. He’d wanted me ages ago, and it wasn’t a surprise that he wanted me now.

It was nothing new.

The problem had been him not wanting me enough.

By contrast, Ren was at my back and it was pretty damn clear he wasn’t unaffected by this either.

I was trapped between two men—two men I’d known intimately—and I couldn’t lie and pretend I wasn’t affected.

We moved together and I almost whimpered. It felt so good. He felt so good…Michael. Being with him, having him close felt so right.

I closed my eyes when he dipped his head to nuzzle my neck. That didn’t help. It made it that much more intimate. I couldn’t retreat against Ren either, because if I retreated just a half an inch, Michael would move an inch closer and being more firmly pressed between them was not going to help.

So I opened my eyes and made myself scan the crowd. I hadn’t even realized it but Michael was doing a damn fine job working us along the dance floor, which made it easier for me to scan the dancers, looking for the victims.

I hissed out a breath between my teeth. There were a lot. It seemed as though every third or fourth person had been touched at some point—the touch of a succubus or incubus was unmistakable—a psychic shadow. Fortunately for us, it had been a light touch. Nothing deep…at least not yet.

Somehow, Ren got lost in the crowd. Too many bodies in such a small space and, as the crowd swallowed him up, Michael took quick advantage. In the blink of an eye he had us moving to the far side of the dance floor. “Not a very graceful partner, your friend, Ren,” he said, his voice cool, dispassionate. Like he didn’t care.

But when I lifted my head and looked at him, I saw the jealousy and anger burning inside his eyes.

“Oh, he’s got plenty of grace. But that’s not exactly what drew me to him either,” I said, giving him a flippant smile.

“Pardon my curiosity, but exactly what did draw you to him?” He toyed with the laces on my corset, his fingers brushing against bare skin.

He’s your exact opposite.

But I didn’t say that out loud.

“He’s wicked fun in the sack for one,” I said, giving him a hard smile.

Whatever he might have said in reply, I don’t know. The next moment, somebody came up behind me—fucking rubbing against my ass. I jolted in surprise before I could stop it. Instinctively, I reached for my knife, but then I remembered—no weapons. No way to hide much of anything in clothes that fit like a second skin.

But Michael was already handling it. He moved me to the side and then shot his hand out, fisting it in the front of the other man’s chainmail shirt. He jerked him close and I had no trouble hearing him as he said, “Touch her again and I’ll rip your dick off and feed it to you. In pieces.”

The guy was either stoned…or stupid. He leered at me and then looked back at Michael. “Hey, man, if you don’t want me eying your piece, why’d you bring her?”

Michael shoved him hard enough that he went crashing to the floor, then he pulled me close, stroking my back with a possessive hand. He cupped my ass, but I couldn’t very well shove away from him without drawing any more attention to us. If such a thing was possible. Half the dancers had stopped to watch us.

Ren emerged from the crowd, his black eyes serious, glinting with a threat.

“Because she likes to watch,” Michael said with a wicked grin.

The man on the floor took one look at the two of them and started scrambling away.

There was a break in the music just then—of course. Which meant quite a few people heard his voice.

I so do not like to watch. Blood rushed to my cheeks as people looked at me. They were all grinning, grinning at the three of us, knowledge glinting in their eyes.

Then I lost sight of their faces because Michael was kissing me, and Ren was at my back, playing up his role as well. He seemed to be getting really into it too, damn it.

It was actually easier to focus on Michael, easier to lower my shields just a bit and let the buzz of his jealous energy flow over me.

But it wasn’t going to be easy for long, because he was getting into it too.

Michael’s hand tugged sharply on my hair, angling my head up. The other gripped my hip, hauling me close. His lower body moved against mine and despite my embarrassment, despite the audience, despite the demons I could sense in the air, I couldn’t keep from responding. As I rocked against Michael, Ren rotated his hips against my ass. They echoed every movement I made, moving in tandem. A dark, vibrant rainbow of need exploded inside my head.

Michael lifted me and I instinctively gripped his waist with my legs, arching my back. I fell back against Ren’s solid, steady heat and gasped as his hands came around me, cupping my breasts. A hard, driving rhythm started to pulse through the air and I shuddered.

Distantly, I realized we weren’t the center of attention any more, although some people were still looking at us. But not for anything other than voyeuristic tendencies. As Michael pulled his mouth from mine and started to kiss his way down my neck, I rested my head against Ren’s shoulder, tried to concentrate.

The job. Focus on the job.

Concentrate. Job. Work. Demons. Innocent people. Concen—oh, shit.

Ren had somehow worked the top of the bodice down enough that my breasts were exposed, the nipples swollen and tight. As he pinched one, Michael bit the other. Then he started to move me—back and forth—over the swollen ridge of his cock. Couldn’t think—

To my utter shock, to my utter dismay, I realized I was this close to coming. Twisting between them, I gasped out, “Stop.”

Ren swore. Just before he stepped away, he muttered, “Oh, come now, poppet. It was starting to get fun too.”

But Michael was still rocking against me, stroking me, and oh…oh…

“Stop it, Michael.”

“We’re still being watched. Just trying to blend. We have a job to do, remember?” He kissed his way up my chest, along my collarbone. As he lowered me to my feet, he nuzzled my neck, then nipped at my earlobe. His voice was light, easy, playful. He could’ve been teasing.

But somehow I didn’t think he was. Maybe it’s because I didn’t want him to be.

I shuddered, whimpered. But somewhere inside me, I didn’t want to believe that—I didn’t want to believe this was just a job.

The devil made me do it, I swear. Turning my mouth to his, I whispered against his lips, “Is that the only reason…the job?”

“Fuck, no.” His mouth crushed against mine and even though I was no longer pinned between their bodies, even though all Michael was doing was kissing me, I knew if I didn’t stop this now, I was going to humiliate myself and come right there on the dance floor.

Tearing my mouth away, I looked around and staggered, falling back against Ren. His arms came around him, holding me protectively.

I closed my eyes and tried to get my body under control.

What in the hell was I doing?

If I didn’t know better, I’d almost swear one of the damned succubi had infected me. Hunger screamed at me. I needed this—whether I needed it because it was Michael, whether it was both of them, whether it was some fantasy I’d never even considered—I needed this.

But it terrified me. My pride and my bruised heart couldn’t handle it. “Please stop, Michael. I…I don’t want this to happen with an audience.”

Too late, I realized what I’d admitted.

That with an audience bit? I really should have left it off.

Seconds later, we were off the floor. Somehow, even though he’d never been here—to my knowledge—Michael managed to find some semi-private little alcove and then I was trapped between him and Ren and the two of them were rocking against me, their hands all over me. Ren muttered in my ear and for once, the wise-cracking comedian aspect was all gone and brutal, wicked hunger was all I could feel from him. Michael’s mouth was on mine and he kissed me like he was starving, dying for the taste of me.

I felt hands at my back—whether it was Michael or Ren, I couldn’t even tell, but it took them less than a minute to strip me out of my corset.

I’d be scandalized later. The wicked, wicked prince had always been able to make me do things I never should do. And Ren…in the past hundred years we’d spent more than one night together and he knew my body probably better than I did.

As Ren plumped my breasts together, Michael caught one nipple in his mouth, scoring it with his teeth and then stroking the minor pain with his tongue.

All of a sudden, I couldn’t care less that I was semi-naked and trapped between two men with hundreds of strangers just feet away.

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care that anybody could—and a number of people did—look in and watch as Michael dragged down the zipper of my leather pants.

I didn’t care that anybody could see as Ren slipped his hand inside to find me completely naked underneath.

“Naughty little princess,” Ren teased. His voice was tight with strain as he circled his thumb around my clit. “You’re not wearing any knickers.”

I didn’t care that anybody was there to witness as Michael shoved my pants to my knees and knelt on the floor. He knocked Ren’s hand out of the way and pressed his mouth to my sex and I didn’t care.

He brought me to climax with talented, oh-so-clever fingers and his wicked, wicked tongue. Dazed, I sagged back against Ren, certain—convinced—I could find rest in his arms, maybe a few seconds to breathe, to think.

But as Michael rose to his feet, Ren whirled me around and then I was leaning against Michael as Ren went down on me. He went to push my knees wider but the pants at my knees prevented that and he growled against me, shoving the pants as far down as they could go. As his tongue slid along the folds between my thighs, Michael caught my face and angled it around. His mouth crushed mine and I screamed into Michael’s mouth as Ren brought me to climax.

He kissed me like a man dying of thirst and I was the only water that could quench that thirst.

Need echoed inside me.

“Bloody fucking hell, darling girl…” he rasped against my lips. “I need you.”

Need…hell, I understand that. Even after all this time, I needed him. Longed for him. I suspected I even still loved him.

I might have even told him that if I hadn’t felt an ominous, hungry presence.

They felt it at the same time I did. I could tell. Their bodies stiffened, only a bit, but the spike in the air could be nothing else.

None of us let it show.

Casually, his gestures slow and unhurried, Ren straightened, easing my pants back up, concealing my lower body. As Ren fastened them, Michael turned away and plucked my corset from the floor. He faced me just as Ren finished fastening my pants.

As the hungry succubus lingered near the door, Michael lifted a finger and twirled it in a circle. Obediently, I turned around, presenting him my back.

I looked into Ren’s eyes, blushing and still half in shock over what had just happened.

This was nothing I’d ever even fantasized about and I had a pretty healthy fantasy life. Michael brought the corset around me and Ren adjusted it over my breasts, smiling down at me, heat and humor in that saturnine smile. “Stop looking so shocked, Princess. I keep thinking about how much fun it could be to shock you even more.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” I said, and my voice shook as I said it.

Like he’d done so a thousand times—hell, he probably had done it a thousand times, at least—Michael had me back in my corset, his hands quick and capable.

I turned to him, tried to figure out what we should do next. I linked my hand with Ren’s, holding onto him desperately as Michael cupped the back of my head and slanted his mouth over mine. A few seconds later, he lifted his head and gave me a wolfish smile that didn’t reflect in his grim eyes. “Come on, darling girl…let’s get out of here. You’ve had your fun, now we get to have ours.”

Ours…

Oh, hell. He wasn’t serious…right?

“But…”

He lifted a hand, placed two fingers over my lips. “Our turn,” he said. His voice was hard and flat, brooking no disobedience.

Like I really gave a damn. He couldn’t order me around.

And if I suspected taking a turn had anything to do with it, I wouldn’t have left unless the place was on fire.

We needed to get out of here. The look in Michael’s eyes, grim and cold, was enough to do what no amount of orders could. It didn’t help that Ren had that same serious, flat look on his face. He was also stroking a hand down the long black duster he wore. Although I’d told him no weapons, I knew he’d have something tucked inside there and if we stayed much longer, he’d be drawing a weapon.

Nothing made him feel secure like whipping out a machete. I knew that from experience too.

They wanted out of here, and so did I.

Michael was right.

I hadn’t been prepared for this many demons in one place.

We couldn’t handle them until we dealt with the king or queen, and first we had to find who it was.

Besides, if we stayed here much longer, I don’t know what would happen between the three of us. Part of me yearned to find out. The rest of me knew my heart couldn’t handle anything that had to do with Michael.

Ren—he was fine. He was safe as far as matters of the heart went. But Michael, he was a different story altogether.

Even if matters of the heart weren’t involved, I didn’t think my inner demons could deal with that particular issue. Not in this lifetime.

CHAPTER THREE

I didn’t quite make it home before it hit me.

Part of me had expected it, but it still managed to catch me off-guard.

The memories.

Pain.

Fear.

Cruel, dark laughter.

Ren, bless his soul, didn’t say anything, and when we reached the house he kept his distance. But I stumbled halfway up the walk and when he reached out to steady me, I latched onto him and didn’t let go.

“Shhhh…”

He lifted me into his arms and murmured against my brow, soft and soothing words that made no sense.

One thing about Ren, although I knew he was probably dying to ask, dying to do something other than just hold me while I battled those inner ghosts, he understood the value of silence. He had his own inner demons and if anybody could understand, it was him.

It was close to an hour before the fear finally eased its grip and even longer before I could manage to speak.

My corset gaped as I eased back away from him, and I shot him a look, forced a smile. “You’re such a letch,” I told him.

Somber-eyed, he brushed my damp hair back from my face and said, “It can’t be easy to breathe in that contraption. I always hated them.”

Since it was already half-off, I turned my back to him and let him strip it away. “I never cared for them myself, but you must admit they certainly make a statement.”

“Indeed. They state, ‘I’m more interested in looking pretty than breathing’.”

I cuddled back against his chest and sighed as his arms came around me.

“This was our fault,” he murmured.

I glanced at him, puzzled. “What?”

“I’ve known you for nearly a century, Elle. I’ve never seen you so lost in your memories before. Bleeding hell, that wasn’t lost in your memories—you were drowning in them.”

“It happens.”

“Yes…and something set it off. Your long-lost prince and I.”

Sighing, I absently toyed with one of the polished pewter buttons on his coat. “He’s not my prince,” I said. He never had been. He’d been claimed before I’d even met him. “And you’re wrong. It’s not your fault.”

The men responsible were nothing but dust. Scum, not even history remembered them.

I did though. Not their faces, or their names. But the sound of their laughter. The cruelty in their hands. The pain—

“Don’t hand me that,” Ren bit off, his voice harsh. “I know you, Elle. I know you too well.”

What was I supposed to say?

I couldn’t tell him. I’d told only one other soul and that was Will. Nobody else knew. I’d prefer to keep it that way and I certainly couldn’t tell Ren. He had probably pieced together enough of it, but I’d be damned if I’d share those humiliating, horrifying memories.

“Ren, it isn’t your fault.” I made myself look at him as I spoke. I didn’t want him blaming himself, not for my nightmares.

A calculating look entered his eyes. I recognized it and before he even said anything I knew what he was thinking.

“Not mine, then? How about your charming friend?” He cupped my cheek in his hand, watching me closely.

He’d know if I lied. It wasn’t a gift of his—it was simply him. He knew me too well and I couldn’t lie to him without him knowing.

But fortunately, I didn’t have to lie on this. Curling my fingers around his wrist, I gave him a faint smile and murmured, “You know better than that, Ren. He’s one of us.”

“Not always. And that bastard Will has a fucking strange sense of irony. I can just see—”

“No.” I shook my head. “Will’s a bit…unusual, but he’s not cruel.”

A bark of laughter escaped him and he rested his head back against the couch. I didn’t even remember how we got inside the house, much less onto the couch. Sliding off his lap, I curled up next to him and watched as his laughter faded away.

“Will…not cruel? Princess, perhaps you don’t know the man I speak of—tall chap, white hair, has the devil’s own arrogance…sound familiar?”

I poked him in the ribs and watched as he jumped.

He caught my wrist before I could poke him again. I settled for making a face at him. “Will isn’t cruel. He’s just… Well, he’s Will.”

He’d been a lover, once. One of only a handful. For the past century, the only man who’d shared my bed was Ren, and that was because Ren expected nothing of me. Nothing but the pleasure we could find in lovemaking. He never asked of my past, never asked for any promises.

Safe.

That was Ren.

He was safe.

Curling back against him, I rested my head on his shoulder and murmured, “I’m tired, Ren.”

“Then rest, Princess. Just rest.”

It was nearing noon when Ren finally crawled out of bed.

It had taken Elle hours to fall asleep and he’d waited until she slumbered deep before he’d allowed himself any rest.

He was still groggy, still tired, but he wouldn’t sleep anymore. Not today. Next to him, Elle was lost in a dreamless sleep. As he pressed his lips to her brow, he closed his eyes and breathed in the soft, warm scent of her. She sighed, her mouth puckering in a faint frown. When he went to pull away, all she did was curl into a ball in the center of the bed.

Without him.

He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed at his chest, trying not to let it bother him, how easily she turned away from him. He couldn’t hold her tight—that would only send her running from him. All he ever could do was be there when she came to him. He kept waiting for her to come and want more—more, as he wanted more.

After nearly a century, he was still waiting.

But he’d wait another five centuries if he must. Ten. Until the end of time.

You can wait until you rot and it won’t matter.

He ignored the sarcastic voice in the back of his mind. He didn’t need the reminders—he already knew he was wasting his time. He just wasn’t ready to admit it. Not now. Not in five centuries. Not in ten.

The medallion around his neck weighed heavy. The heat of it had pulled him from his own dreams and, as he sat there, it became hotter and hotter. It would continue to do that until it scorched his flesh, and although it was already miserably uncomfortable, he wasn’t jumping to answer that arse-licker’s call, not until he had some coffee in him.

Coffee—ambrosia as far as he was concerned.

He didn’t manage to get that cup before he was interrupted.

From behind, he saw the flash of light but he didn’t turn. He didn’t like the bastard, not one bit.

I came awake to feel the air around me buzzing.

That hum of energy was familiar, one I’ve felt dozens, hundreds, perhaps even a thousand times over the years.

Will.

I rolled my eyes as I climbed out of bed. After stretching, I grabbed the sheet from the bed. As I headed for the bedroom door, I wrapped it around my body, holding the edges in a knot between my breasts.

Will and Ren had never gotten along, but then again, few people rarely got along with Will. He seemed to prefer it that way.

I could hear them talking, Ren’s voice, low and angry, followed by a flat, unemotional one.

“It’s too early for this,” I muttered, not bothering to glance at the clock. I didn’t care if it was one in the morning or one in the afternoon. If I have just climbed out of bed, it’s too early. I needed time to wake up and I needed time to clear the cobwebs from my mind.

A must, especially if I was going to have to play referee between the two men.

The room went silent, but it was followed by a rise in the energy. It crackled in the air, snapped. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

Will was leaving—the energy always mounted just before he disappeared in his pretty little circle of light.

I reached the doorway just in time to see Ren turn to me. He gave me a crooked smile and took one step in my direction. If he hadn’t had his back turned to the circle of light, he would have seen Will’s hand move, grabbing him by the neck, the same way one might grab a small puppy.

Ren’s eyes widened and he swore, but before he could pull away, Will jerked and he disappeared in the circle of light. It blinked out of existence.

Leaving me alone.

I gaped at the spot where Ren had been only seconds ago.

“Damn it, Will, what are you doing?”

There was no answer and I narrowed my eyes. I damn well knew he could hear me. I reached up and closed my hand around the medallion at my neck. He could hear me—he might not be here physically, but I could feel him, which meant part of him still lingered.

Damn it, he’d answer me.

I focused my thoughts and projected towards Will. “Damn it, what are you doing?”

Ren has another engagement, Elle.

“Like hell,” I snapped. “I need backup here—I can’t handle this mess all alone.”

You aren’t alone. You have backup.

I stiffened as Michael’s image flashed through my mind. Not quite the backup I’d wanted.

He’s as capable as Ren. More.

My shoulders slumped and I closed my eyes. Yes. I had no doubts of that—I’m sure Michael is very capable. That’s how he is.

But that didn’t mean I wanted him at my back.

Why do you worry about having him at your back? Do you truly think he’d harm you?

“I… No. No, I know he wouldn’t hurt me.”

Would he betray you? Risk you?

I scowled and shoved a hand through my tangled hair. “No, damn it. It’s not working with him that’s the problem. It’s being near him. I…I can’t do this, Will.”

You can.

I wrapped my arms around myself, one fist still tangled in the sheet I had wrapped around my body. Huddling in on myself, I shook my head and said, “I can’t. Just being around him hurts.”

You’ve hurt every day, ever since you left him, Elle. That will not change, not until you deal with it. Work with him—deal with him—and get on with your life.

His presence faded and now I was truly alone.

Alone with nothing but my own thoughts, dark, heavy and cold.

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Ren snarled the moment he could.

It wasn’t until after the words left his mouth that he realized where he was—where they were.

Hovering in the air. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of feet.

It was painfully cold, the wind slapping at him, slicing into his naked body like a thousand tiny blades.

Will stood just a few feet away—stood—like there was solid ground beneath his feet instead of hundreds and hundreds of feet of nothingness.

Warily, Ren moved his foot. Yes—it felt rather solid under him, but he wasn’t fooled.

“Where are we?”

Will glanced down, and when he looked back up there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. “That’s Lake Erie down there.”

Lake Erie.

Half-paralyzed with fear, Ren looked down and then jerked his eyes back up, focusing on Will’s ageless face. He’d rather look at the bastard in front of him than at the water so far, far below.

“Why in the hell are we floating in mid-air above Lake Erie? You bastard, do you want somebody to see us?”

Will’s mouth quirked—it was almost a full-out laugh for him. “You know as well as I that if I do not wish to be seen, we will not be seen.” He glanced down and then back at Ren. “Up here, I’m quite certain I have your undivided attention.”

Well, that was certainly true.

“What do you want?”

Will shrugged. “What I want rarely plays into things. I do what I must…as do you, Thom.”

“Don’t call me that,” Ren bit off. “If you’re in the mood for games, you’ll have to find somebody else to play with. Elle needs me.”

Now a real smile curled Will’s mouth, but it was a bitter, unhappy one. “Elle doesn’t need you.”

“She wouldn’t agree.” He gave Will a sly smile. “She came to me, asked me to come. She does need me.”

Will just stared at him, his gaze emotionless. The wind whipped his snow-white hair around his smooth, unlined face, blew it into dark, dark eyes. Will didn’t even seem to notice.

“Right then, if you’ll just send me back, I’ll get back to work.”

“No.”

Something about the way Will was watching him put his back up, but Ren would be damned if he let the bastard see how unnerved he was. Of course, he had a right to be unnerved—to say the least. He didn’t have a stitch of clothes on his bare ass, he was hovering in mid-air and the freakiest man in the world was getting ready to jerk him into one of his mind games. He could tell.

But Ren wasn’t in the mood to play.

At least, not on Will’s terms.

Meeting Will’s gaze, he gave him a wide grin and threw out his arms. “Come on, mate. I’m a bit cold, you know. Why don’t you and me go back to the cabin, at least long enough to get dressed. Besides, we can’t just…ah…float around in the clouds all day.”

“Don’t bother playing good-natured, daft old Thomas. The act doesn’t work on me, boy.” An unholy light danced in Will’s eyes and he murmured, “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I was there back when it wasn’t exactly an act.”

Ren crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, no. I haven’t forgotten. But bloody hell, if you need a word with me, you can do it somewhere other than here.”

“Here is as good as anywhere.” Will shrugged. “But so be it. I’ll send you off to your next assignment.”

Ren narrowed his eyes. “I’m not doing another assignment…not while Elle needs me.”

“She doesn’t though. And you know it.” Will looked away. “She doesn’t need you. She doesn’t need me. There’s only one man she does need and it’s high time she admitted it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“I’m in hell.” Michael turned away from the window, forcing himself not to stare at Elle as she sauntered towards his condo.

She was alone…again.

Alone. And in a matter of seconds, she would be alone in the condo with him.

He didn’t know whether to be glad of that fact or terrified.

“Don’t be either. Just think about the job,” he muttered.

It had been a bad, bad idea agreeing to let her come here to pick him up before they headed to the club this time.

Being alone with her was a bad, bad idea, period.

As much as he hated Ren, it was easier to do the job when he was there providing a buffer.

The first night at the club, when it had been the three of them, had been the easiest, even if he had spent much of it torn between rage and other messy emotions he couldn’t quite define.

Having Ren around had made it possible for Michael to keep some measure of control. Now he had only his own strength to rely on because he couldn’t count on Ren’s presence. The other Grimm likely wouldn’t be back—Elle had said he’d been called away to another job, so they were on their own.

At least for the time being.

For now, he’d have to rely on his own strength, his own control to get through this. And that was a fucking laugh, because he had no control with Elle. None. No control, no strength, no tact, no sense. Nothing but need.

And in a few minutes, he’d be alone in this little condo with nothing but her…and his desperate, dark needs.

“Don’t think about that. Think about the club. Think about the succubi and the incubi. You’ve got your hands full with them. There is no time to dwell on personal matters.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, “Not that there is any sort of personal matter between us.”

No. He’d ruined that.

All he had was this job…and the hope that he could protect her.

They’d decided it would look better if they arrived together instead of just meeting there. Elle wanted to drive and Michael imagined it was probably so she could take off running whenever she chose.

It had seemed a logical idea at the time, but now the logic wasn’t quite so clear. Especially since she was now on the porch. They were still separated by brick and mortar, but he could feel how close she was.

In a moment, she’d been in here, and they would be alone.

Alone with Elle. It was enough to make logic, control and sanity fly out the window.

The condo, perched on the edge of Lake Erie, was reclusive, remote and relatively private. It would take forty-five minutes to get to the club.

As she knocked, Michael stomped over to the bar and poured himself a snifter of brandy. He waited until he took the first sip before responding.

“Come in.” He remained where he was, staring into the cut crystal, swirling the amber liquid around. Better, he thought, better to study the pricey liquor than to look at her.

“Well, aren’t you in a happy mood today?” Elle drawled, her voice low and mocking.

Michael flicked a glance her way and took another drink. Not a sip though. He knocked it back, slammed the snifter on the counter and poured himself another drink. He belted that one just as quickly and grimaced as it burned its way down his throat. He was tempted to go for a third drink, but instead set the snifter on the bar and folded his arms over his chest.

Elle sauntered up to stand beside him, and from the corner of his eye, he could see the smirk on her face. She lifted his glass, sniffed it and then, with a shrug, helped herself to a drink of her own. Michael had to turn away when she closed her eyes as she sipped. It was either that or risk pouncing on her like a slobbering fool. She’d be dealing with enough of that later on.

“You don’t know how to treat good liquor,” Elle said from behind him. She gave a happy sigh and took another sip.

Michael glanced over his shoulder at her. Looking at her proved to be a mistake. Because one quick glance was not enough. Like a puppet on a string, he found himself turning around before he even realized he was doing it.

His voice edgy, he bit off, “If I was in the mind to savor, I’d savor. Right now, I’m more of a mind to get good and drunk.”

“Can you get drunk?”

“If I put my mind to it, yes, I imagine I can.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you put your mind to getting this job done instead?” Elle cocked a golden brow at him, still holding the snifter to her lips. They were slicked wine-red again—wine-red that matched the short silk sheath she wore. It covered her ass, barely. She wore no bra, and through that silk, he could see the outline of her nipples.

Oh, I’m definitely in hell.

“Where did the leather and lace go?” he asked.

“Leather’s hot,” Elle replied. She glanced down at her dress and then up at him. She smiled as she took another sip of her brandy. “What, don’t I look slutty enough?”

Michael clenched his jaw. “You don’t look like a slut.”

“Oh, I most certainly look like a slut. But that just means I’ll blend in.” She smirked as she studied his clothes. He was all in black again, a black silk shirt and tailored black trousers.

Under her breath, Elle said, “Tsk. Tsk. Here I am looking nice and slutty, and you look like royalty, Prince Charming.” Her voice was mocking.

Michael narrowed his eyes at her. “You know, Elle, I really don’t care for that name.”

With an unrepentant grin, she said, “I figured as much.”

Then her face sobered, and she gestured to his clothing. “Seriously, Michael. You don’t blend. We’re going to a sex club, for crying out loud. We’re not going to the opera.”

“There is no opera here,” he replied. He glanced down at his clothes and then at hers. “I’ll leave you to play dress up, darling. I will go as I am and play the indulgent lover.”

She’d been getting ready to take another sip, but she paused, the crystal pressed against her lips. “Indulgent lover?” she echoed.

“It works as well as anything else,” he said. He shrugged, gathering his hair in his hand, securing it in a tail at his nape. “You’re the lovely woman with a wicked streak and I’m just a besotted fool who’ll do anything to keep you happy.”

Something flashed in her blue eyes. Carefully, she set the snifter aside and smoothed a hand down her silk-covered side. “Well, this will be interesting. We both get to do some role-playing. I get to pretend to be a slut, and you get to pretend to be besotted.”

It was a role Michael could play easily enough. After all, he had only been living that way for three hundred years. Silently, he laughed at himself. “Just call me a method actor.”

He was in a weird mood tonight, that was for sure. I let him drive.

We had both rented little luxury condos on the lake, although I do admit, Michael had more of the luxury than mine. Cut crystal. Hand-carved doors. Thick, plush carpet, white as snow. His place was a little palace.

I went for the rustic look. The little log cabin was comfy and simple. Suited me fine.

It hadn’t surprise me to find him out here. I had to be out here, far from town. I needed it. I had to get away from people every now and then because their presence weighed on me too much. I swear, if I could have chosen the one gift I’d received after I made the Choice, it would’ve been anything but the one I received.

I’m called a reflector. Basically, its empathy coupled with the ability to reflect one’s emotions back at them. Can you imagine what it’s like, being able to feel other people, their emotions, their losses, their heartbreaks? I can shut it off, but it’s not wise to keep shields up all the time.

And it doesn’t feel good.

Sometimes those shields are almost too confining. It’s like living out your life in bubble wrap.

Curious, I glanced at him. Up until four days ago, Michael and I had never worked together before. Matter of fact, I went out of my way to avoid him. Up until tonight, the powers that be had seen fit to let me do it.

Up until he showed up in the parking lot at the club four nights ago, I hadn’t seen him in more than three hundred years.

The last time I’d seen him was in London, almost a year to the day after my rather…unfortunate…demise.

I’d been working with Will at the time and was finally settling into the strange new life. Will had taken me to see a play, but I can’t remember the name of it. The only clear memory of that night was Michael.

Seeing his face—it had been such a shock.

Part of me had hoped he had come looking for me, but I’d discarded that idea quickly enough. After all, nobody knew what had become of me, so there was no way, logically, he could have been looking for me.

Still, part of me had hoped.

I’d mentally rehearsed what I would tell him as he came up to me, but then I’d caught sight of the silver chain around his neck. Nothing at all like what he would have worn. Nothing.

And it was exactly like the chain I wore. The one with the pendant on it. A silver disc, etched with wings.

Part of me died that night. He was one of us. Which meant…he’d died. It was how one went from human to Grimm. Through death’s door and then back again.

I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. Instead, before he could get close enough for us to speak, I had run. He hadn’t followed and I hadn’t seen him until he’d shown up here in Sandusky.

One might think it unlikely, but shortly after seeing him in London, I left Europe. I traveled to the colonies in 1706 and I’ve been here ever since, save for the odd trip to Italy or France every now and then. According to the gossip grapevine, Michael spent most of his time drifting between Europe and Asia.

Until now, our paths had simply never crossed.

I didn’t know all that much about him, not anymore. But then again, maybe I had never really known all that much about him to begin with.

“So what is your gift?” I asked him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard.”

Michael slipped me a sidelong look. In the darkness, his green eyes seemed almost black, and his face was unreadable. In a quiet, low voice, he asked. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Uh—oh. Going by the grim tone in his voice, it wasn’t going to be a nice one. Some of us didn’t have good gifts. Mine wasn’t fun—it was a pain in the ass, and very often a pain in the heart.

But my gift didn’t make other Grimms back away from me.

“Mind control.” His voice was carefully empty, flat.

Too empty. Too flat.

I gaped at him. “Did you just say mind control?”

Michael didn’t bother answering me. He knew I had heard him well enough.

Dazed, I settled back in my seat and just stared out into the night.

Mind control.

My friend, Greta, she can force people to do what she wants for short periods of time. But it comes with a cost to her. Anytime she uses her gift she ends up with a rousing headache. That’s enough to keep her from abusing it.

But it wasn’t the same as mind control. She only controlled their bodies.

If Michael’s gift was mind control, he could control the body…and the mind. He could make people into his willing slaves.

I swallowed the knot in my throat. Poor guy. The rest of us probably treated him like a leper.

“Can you use it on us?”

We’re not automatically immune to each other’s gifts, you know. I don’t know why it’s like that. Maybe because on the most basic level we are still human. With me, I can use part of my gift on other Grimms. I can feel their emotions, but I can’t reflect back at them all that well.

Reflecting works best on humans, but not just any old human. Nope, my gift tends to work better on the tainted humans—those who’ve been dabbling with demons but haven’t gone too far yet.

I’m handy that way. If I can get to them soon enough, while they still have enough of their humanity left, I can show them what they’re turning into. I can push it back on them. Sometimes that’s all it takes for them to back away. Once they back away, their minds are their own again—the demons can’t touch them.

I realized Michael hadn’t answered me yet. I shifted in my seat, carefully holding my skirt down to keep it from riding up any higher. Not that it was possible. It was a good thing the panties matched the dress.

Propping my arm on the back of the seat, I stared at him. “So, can you?”

Michael’s mouth twisted in a bitter smile. Somewhere deep inside, I realized it hurt to see that smile on his face. His gift made him unhappy. And that made me unhappy.

Even though, logically, I shouldn’t give a damn if he was unhappy or not. Why should I care? After all this time, why should it matter?

“I don’t know.” He flicked a glance at me and shrugged. “I’ve never tried. What would be the point? We’re all on the side of the angels after all. Right?”

“Actually, we are the angels.”

He glanced at me again and this time, his eyes lingered. On my face and along my body. “You look more the temptress than the angel,” Michael told me.

After all he’d done, after the hell I’d gone through, there was no reason that should made me feel so weak, so needy, so hungry. It didn’t make sense.

But in a way, it made perfect sense. Only Michael could affect me like this. Only Michael.

Nobody had ever made me feel like he had—apparently he could still make me feel that way.

I decided I didn’t like that knowledge. Once more, I shifted in the seat, turning so I stared out the window. I rested my arm on the door and tried to figure out how this happened. I tried to figure out how he could still affect me.

Absently, I reached up and touched the medallion that lay against my skin under my dress. It was cool, despite the fact that I still have a 98.6° body temperature. Usually the things only warmed up when we were summoned.

Silently, I asked, Why did you send me here, Will?

There was no answer, but I hadn’t expected one.

Me. Michael. Both of us together. Was there a reason for it? Will knew who Michael was. Hell, I think most of Grimms knew who we both were. Michael had been a minor figure in history, but still he was a royal. Those of us who had been around when he’d lived had heard the tale of the prince who disappeared only days before he was to wed.

He was a minor mystery in the pages of history—the mortal world had no idea what had become of him. All history knew was that he had disappeared and his family never saw him again.

Will knew who Michael was, and Will knew what he meant to me. More, Will knew the uglier bits of my past—how I’d ended up in the hands of a Grimm to begin with. Will’s hands, to be precise.

What are you up to, Will?

Despite what others might think, he wasn’t a cruel man and he would not have placed Michael and me together without good reason.

Unlike a lot of my fellow Grimms, I actually knew Will fairly well. He was the one who had found me barely clinging to life. I was bordering on unconsciousness at the time, slipping in and out of awareness, hovering near death. I’d been raped and then beaten within an inch of my life.

I had run away from my life, from my broken heart. Doing so nearly killed me… Well, it had killed me. But Will got to me in time, and before I was too far out of his reach he had offered me the Choice.

My old life had ended that night. Actually, it had ended the day I discovered Michael’s true identity.

Even if I hadn’t run away, my life would’ve changed.

Contrary to the fairy tale, it had been a good life.

My stepmother hadn’t mistreated me. Forget what the books might say. I wasn’t treated like a scullery maid. I only had the one stepsister, and she’d been a friend to me as well as a sister.

We had grown up together. I’d even known of her betrothal. She’d been betrothed to Michael from childhood.

The problem was that I met Michael without knowing who he was. I had met him, fallen in love with him, and I believed he had loved me. As a baron’s daughter, I hadn’t been a bad catch.

But my stepsister was the daughter of a duke. Further up in the hierarchy than me, and with a nice, fat dowry… A much better catch.

By the time I discovered who he was, we were already lovers.

To be fair, Michael hadn’t known who I was either. He was too honorable a man to chase after the stepsister of his future wife. And it’s not as ridiculous as it might sound, the two of us having never met.

You know all of those spirited heroines you read about in historical romances? I could’ve been modeled after one of them—or rather, they could’ve been modeled after me. I was more interested in riding my horses, reading and hunting than in court life. I avoided it at all costs and my family had allowed me to get away with it.

Perhaps that was why I was so naïve, so…hopeful about life in general. I didn’t know what real life was, even if I did understand pain, trauma, tragedy…loss.

I had been pampered and protected my whole life, first by my father, and then by his new wife and my new sister. They’d coddled me, protected me, loved me. Outside the circle of their love, I had no idea what real life was, what the real world was like.

Not until the year I met Michael, the summer we traveled north to the royal family’s summer estate. At the end of the summer, my stepsister, Marguerite, was to wed. While she was busy with court life, I was out riding or sneaking into the library for books.

The library was where I met Michael.

It’s a familiar story. Boy meets girl. Boy flirts with girl and girl flirts back. We’d known each other a week the day we became lovers. We’d been out riding. I’d slipped away from my rooms, leaving a message with my servant that I would be out riding—yet again.

What I didn’t tell them was that I was meeting a man, a dashing, charming man.

If I hadn’t begged off attending the first ball, I would have known who he was…and I would have stayed away from him. I never would have fallen in love with him and I never would have made love to him. In all honesty, other than that summer spent at the estate and the upcoming wedding, we wouldn’t have seen much of each other.

Our lives would have been so much different, so much easier…if only I’d attended that first damn ball.

Once Marguerite had married Michael, she would’ve gone to live with him. I would’ve seen them sporadically, but I would’ve kept my distance. You have no idea how often I’ve thought about things, how I could have avoided the heartbreak if I’d just gone to the first stupid ball. But I hadn’t wanted to dress in some fine gown and spend the night making small talk and giggling with the other ladies.

The miles sped by as I lost myself in my memories. I could remember some of it as clear as crystal…as clear as a glass slipper. Like the day I put my heart in his hands. In the hours we had spent together, he hadn’t once mocked me for my boyish way of dressing, nor had he teased me for my love of books. He seemed to understand my distaste for court life. He had seemed to understand me.

I had hopes in my heart that he would even understand the secret I’d shared with only a few other people.

I don’t even think he had set out to take advantage of me.

Advantage—there was no advantage taken. I guess I should be honest about that. He hadn’t taken advantage of me—I’d given myself to him, freely and quite happily.

Tears burned my eyes and there was a knot in my throat.

“We should not do this…” he had told me.

That’s what he’d said…to the girl I’d once been. Another lifetime ago.

1704

“Why not?” Elle whispered, staring up into dark, mysterious green eyes. How her heart raced when he looked at her…when he smiled at her. He had given her so much pleasure and she wished to give it to him as well.

Trying not to let him see her hands shaking, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him. He tasted of wine and the oranges he had brought. It had been a fine meal—in Elle’s mind, it was a far finer meal than the royal banquets she was supposed to be attending.

“Elle…” He groaned her name as he pulled away. He eased back away from her hands and paced away, putting a careful distance between them.

Elle cocked her head and studied him. “Why shouldn’t we do this?”

He shot her a dark look. “You are a lady. You well know the answer to that. You should…” His voice trailed off and then his face took on that silent, closed look that so many donned when speaking to an unwed, young woman.

“I am a lady…an unwed one. I should not speak of matters between a man and woman, at least not until I am wed.” She made a face and said, “I know my own mind. If I wish to kiss a man, I will.”

She moved to stand beside him, conscious of the fact that she was alone with a man, something that rarely happened. Even at home, when she went hunting or riding, there was usually another with her. She was alone with this man and he made her heart race.

She linked their hands and looked at him from under her lashes. “You have kissed me before and it seemed you enjoyed it. Have I bored you then?”

“I do not believe it possible to be bored when you are near,” he said quietly. Michael cupped her face in his hands and lowered his head until their mouths were but a breath apart.

“Then why shouldn’t we do this? Why shouldn’t I kiss you now?”

The look in his eyes had her heart trembling with eagerness…and fear. “There comes a time when a man wants more than kisses from a pretty girl.”

“I see.” And she did. She rested a hand on his chest, just above his heart, and then gave him one of the coquettish smiles she’d seen used by some of the ladies at court. “Does that mean you do not want more with me?”

“Darling girl, I’ve thought of little else since I saw you sneaking out of the library, your face all dusty and your arms full of books.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth and nipped it lightly. “But this isn’t wise…it isn’t fair. Not to you.”

But she had always been stubborn. Trailing a hand down his chest, she caught one of his hands and lifted it to her breast. She’d worn breeches to ride and even if she had desired to wear a corset, she couldn’t very well wear one to ride in. She went without one as often as possible and the shirt she wore proved little barrier.

“It is up to me to decide what is fair, is it not?”

CHAPTER FIVE

“Elle?”

The sound of Michael’s voice made for a very effective wake-up call. I straightened and glanced over at him, startled to realize we had already arrived at the club.

“Are you well?” he asked, his voice stilted. “You have been rather quiet.”

I gave him a breezy smile and lied through my teeth. “Oh, I’m wonderful. Just planning how to handle tonight.”

“You do not lie well. Even after all this time.” He watched me with shrewd eyes.

“My thoughts are my own, Michael. Let’s just leave them that way.”

A faint smile curled his lips. “Do you know that I can remember looking at your face and being able to read you like an open book? Every emotion you felt, every thought you thought, one could see it in your eyes. Not as easy to read now as you used to be, but I don’t need to read you to understand what you are thinking. But you don’t have to worry—I won’t use it on you.”

It took a minute to figure what he was talking about.

Then I understood. His gift. I just shook my head. “Michael, that’s the least of my concern. I’m not worried about that at all.”

“Why not? I tried to force you to my will before.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. There’s a big difference between offering to set me up as your mistress and forcing me to do your will.”

I wanted to get out of the car, but he reached out and stopped me. Long, slender fingers wrapped around my wrist, his thumb stroking back and forth over the soft inside. “I never meant for you to run. I never meant to chase you away. If I had realized that was what would happen…” His voice trailed off and he sighed, letting me go. “I am sorry.”

Nervous, I reached up to toy with my medallion only to remember it was under my dress. Couldn’t risk having a succubus see it after all. So instead, I smoothed down my skirt and looked all around, looking anywhere but him. “Michael, you didn’t make me run. I did it all on my own. It was my foolishness that led me to my fate.”

“I threatened you. You were frightened.”

“Let’s not forget foolish and naïve.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s old history.”

I climbed out of the car and waited for him to join me. As he walked around the car, I stared at the club and braced myself.

I didn’t want to go in there. Not at all. In a few minutes, I’d walk into that club, wade through that morass of envy, loneliness, guilt and need—emotions I was all too familiar with.

Michael joined me and I waited for him to offer his arm as he had the past four nights. But he didn’t. He moved in front of me, staring down at me. “I would undo it if I could. Do you believe that? Can you?”

I studied his face. Physically, he looked the same as he did the last time I had seen him… Exactly the same. Those mysterious green eyes, a face as beautiful as an angel’s, and a mouth that would tempt a saint. But he wasn’t the same man. There was a heaviness to him, a grief.

And I was still naïve, I realized. Because I’d convinced myself I shouldn’t care if he hurt, that I wouldn’t be bothered by his sadness.

I’d let myself believe that time could change how I felt for this man, even though deep inside I knew otherwise.

I reached up and laid my hand on his cheek.

“We both made mistakes.” I rubbed my thumb over his lower lip and remembered how it had felt the first time he kissed me. Like heaven. “I’m not without blame in this, Michael. And yes, I can believe you.”

Impulsively, I pressed my lips to his chin. “Come on, we’ve got a job to do and I’d much rather do that than live in the past.”

“A job.” His smile was grim—no pun intended. “What a job—I dance with you while we are surrounded by men who cannot keep their eyes from you—and many have a hard time keeping their hands to themselves as well.”

I slid him a sidelong glance. Smirking, I added, “Don’t forget the women.” I’d had my ass grabbed by a female more than once since we’d started this particular job.

“Well, there should be some on-the-job benefits.” His face was straight, but there was a glint in his eyes, just the slightest hint of laughter.

“Pervert.” I clicked my tongue and hooked my arm through his. “C’mon. Time to get our freak on.”

Michael gave me a perplexed look. “Freak on?”

“You really do need to step into the 21st century.”

Get our freak on. Michael leaned against the railing, a martini in his hand, watching Elle out on the dance floor. He had to admit, the phrase made sense. She danced with three other women. He could hardly take his eyes off her.

Dancing, just like everything else, had changed greatly over the centuries. It didn’t seem right though, to call this dancing. They might as well be fucking. It was erotic enough that he had a raging hard-on just from watching them. The few times a man had attempted to join them, he had been hard-pressed to keep from tearing out throats.

Elle had saved his sanity, and the strain on his self-control, evading the men with flirtatious ease.

They had feigned a fight. They weren’t going to see enough if they kept going as they had. If this didn’t work she had said something about pretending to get drunk. Sooner or later, one of the demons would take the bait. They craved sex and Elle looked like a sexual deviant’s dream come to life.

To his surprise, Elle didn’t get approached.

He did.

The girl was young. If she was old enough to legally be in this club Michael would eat glass. Still, he pretended interest as she sidled up to stand beside him. He couldn’t quite call what she was wearing a dress—he was certain he had seen lingerie that wasn’t that revealing. Hell, there was more material on her thigh-high boots than her clothing combined.

The top was nothing more than a brassiere made of chain mail, and when she moved just so he caught glimpses of her pink nipples. The bottom wasn’t any better, thong panties with a short lace overskirt that just barely managed to cover her rump. The thin silver chain she wore around her waist looked like it had been made from the same silver as her top. Her lips were slicked blood-red, matching her fingernails. Her hair was only a few shades lighter. Red hair, nails and lips, silver and black covering that too-young body…and a demon peeking out from her eyes.

She traced one red nail along the rim of his glass and leaned in to whisper, “You look awful lonely over here.”

“And you look awful young.” Michael gave her a dismissive glance. Not that he could dismiss her—he and Elle would have to intervene here. Now. Tonight. If their chance came in the form of this woman-child, so be it. Perhaps some good could even come of it—perhaps they could save her.

This one walked a narrow line. In another day or two it would be too late for her. It might be too late now.

Her lips curved into a smile, and there was nothing childish about it. “I’m older than I look.”

“So am I.” By several centuries.

Her smile didn’t fade. “Oh, goody. I love older men…so much more…stamina.” She leaned in and touched her tongue to his glass. “I’m thirsty.”

Michael glanced at the drink he didn’t want and then offered it to her. “By all means.”

Oh, the little whore. I watched her lead Michael away. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I had to guess she’d been touched. Michael wouldn’t be wasting his time with her if there wasn’t a demon’s presence lingering around her.

Still…jealousy burned inside me.

One of the girls I’d been dancing with caught sight of my face and she grinned at me. “If you want to teach him a lesson, you can join me and my girlfriend. We can make him real miserable…invite him to watch.”

She gestured towards one of the little stages. They were rarely empty. I’d seen everything from fellatio to spankings to ménages taking place on those little stages—entertainment, and cheap entertainment too. The club didn’t pay a dime to the “performers”—anybody at the club who wanted to take a few minutes in the limelight could do so.

“I’d rather teach her a lesson,” I said, still glaring in the direction Michael had gone. The private rooms. I’d heard about those for the first time last night. I stormed in their direction and if it seemed very easy to play the jealous lover, so what?

I couldn’t see them any more, but I could feel him. A Grimm doesn’t feel like a human, just like a demon doesn’t feel like a human. I followed, letting my instincts guide me to a closed door. Above the lock, there was a little red “occupied” sign.

I smirked. Too fucking bad.

Pounding on the door, I screeched. Those in the hall around me barely heard me thanks to the music, but Michael heard me. Seconds later, the door opened and I got ready to tear into him. I had to keep up appearances after all. But before I could say anything, he caught my wrist and dragged me inside. He pinned me against the door and leaned in, placing his mouth right next to my ear.

“They have a camera going. Behind the mirror.”

Shit. I met his gaze as he lifted his face. Okay.

I glanced past him to look at the girl. She smirked at me, and that’s when I saw it. When I felt it. I hate being right. She had one in her. Working deeper and deeper. Wouldn’t be too long before it was too late for her.

Shoving Michael away, I stared at him and let my lower lip tremble. “What are you doing in here with her, Michael?”

“Just having some fun,” he said, giving me a cocky smile. “That’s why we keep coming here, right? For fun?”

I shifted from one foot to another and tried to look nervous, embarrassed. “I just like… Well, you know…watching.”

“Then watch.”

I knew what he was going to do—I could see it in his eyes. But still, when I watched him kiss her it was like having my heart ripped out again. All over. “I don’t want to watch you fucking some girl.”

He looked up over her shoulder and smiled. “I didn’t say I was going to fuck her.” He shifted his gaze to the other woman. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

The woman chose that moment to slide her hand down his chest, down, down, until she was stroking him through his trousers. “Make up your mind,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “I promise, I’ll be good…or bad…whichever you want me to be.”

“Tempting.”

She threw me a challenging look over her shoulder. “She comes to a club like this, thinking it’s all just fun and games. It’s not. It’s more.” Then she looked back at Michael and whispered, “Let me show you.”

She went to her knees in front of him.

Before she could loosen his belt, I crossed the room and buried my hand in her hair, yanking hard. Maybe a little harder than I should have. She screeched.

“Hands off, honey.”

She jumped to her feet. Even if I hadn’t already seen the demon peeking out from behind her eyes, that move—lightning quick and inhumanly graceful—would have clued me in. Not much time with you, I mused to myself as I studied her face.

I could see her muscles coiling and I braced—she might not be fully gone, but the demon in her was strong. Michael came between the two of us before she had a chance to rush me. He drew me close, pressed a kiss to my brow. “Darling girl, calm down.”

I saw him smile at her, flashing that devastating smile of his at his new admirer. “Give us a minute, won’t you?” He didn’t bother waiting for an answer before shifting his gaze back to me. He skimmed his fingers through my hair, then down my back. His hand rested at the base of my spine, stroking. The warmth of his touch was so distracting it took me a minute to realize that he was talking to me. “You always tease me about trying new things. I’d say we could certainly call this…new.”

“That is so like a man,” I sneered at him. “You want me to watch her give you a fucking blowjob?”

“I was thinking of something with more participation, from all of us.” Michael smiled at me.

I heard her coming up behind me, but I still flinched when her hands came around my waist. “That’s just like a man too. You get two girls at once?”

“I want to watch her touch you,” he rasped against my mouth. Then he kissed me, arching my head back. His kiss was deep, rough, and my knees were weak by the time he lifted his head.

It’s a damn good thing this was a job. Because if he had asked me that, and kissed me that way, I don’t know that I would’ve been able to tell him no. Of course, when he kissed me that way, it was hard to remember what no was.

I could feel her behind me, rubbing against me. As her hands came up to cup my breasts, I caught her wrists.

We can’t do this here, I thought, staring at Michael and hoping he picked up on my unspoken message.

He gave a tiny, imperceptible nod. Moving away from the girl, I turned and rested my back against his chest. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Velvet,” she said, her voice a seductive purr.

I didn’t have to feign the hesitation as I looked around the small room. It had been cleaned, but I could still smell it— sex, sweat, even the faint metallic scent of blood. “I’m not having sex here.” I didn’t have to feign my revulsion either.

Michael’s arms came around me. He nuzzled my neck. I shuddered as he scraped his teeth along my sensitive flesh. “Maybe a hotel?”

Velvet frowned. Glancing around the room, she said, “What’s wrong with this room?”

“My lady is fastidious.”

We both saw it in her eyes, a reluctance of her own. She didn’t want to leave here. She might not instinctively understand it, but I knew the demon inside her felt safer with more of her own kind around.

But we couldn’t do this here.

So we would just have to tempt her away.

Michael stroked his hands on my hips, under the hem of my brief dress. Blood rushed to my cheeks as he touched me in front of her. Renewed interest flared in her eyes and I felt the demon’s presence more strongly.

The problem was I couldn’t relax in front of her.

Then don’t think about her, I told myself. Think about Michael.

Or better yet…don’t think at all.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I focused on him, the way his fingers circled around my clit, and the hard, firm length of his cock cuddling against my ass. I whimpered and sagged in his arms.

Need boiled inside me. Self-preservation was the only thing keeping me on my feet—well, that and Michael.

“We’re leaving, Velvet.” Michael pulled his hand away from my sex and lazily licked his fingers. “You’re welcome to join us, but we’re leaving.”

Velvet followed us out.

CHAPTER SIX

A hotel wouldn’t do.

Not enough privacy. Michael waited until they were a few miles away from the club before he did anything. Pulling up on the side of the road, he turned and faced Velvet.

She blinked and glanced around, looking confused. “What are we doing…”

“Be silent.”

For a split second, a dazed, helpless look appeared in her eyes. Then it was gone, chased away by demon heat, demon hunger…and fear. If the succubus hadn’t figured out yet, she would shortly.

Narrowing his eyes, Michael pushed at her with his mind. “Tell me where you live.”

Once more, she looked dazed and helpless. In a monotone voice, she gave him directions. Michael committed them to memory and then asked her, “What is your real name? Do you have a family?”

“Vanessa.” Tears appeared in her eyes. “I have my mom. But she’s not here. She’s back home.”

The small, rundown apartment wasn’t much better than a hotel room. At least here Elle could do what she needed to do, and when they were done they could leave Vanessa here, knowing she’d be safe.

It took them less than twenty minutes to get from the club to Vanessa’s little apartment. It took another three minutes to get into the apartment building with the door locked behind them.

The demon was fighting harder now. In the back of his mind, Michael could feel the thing struggling and jerking against the bonds Michael had laid on Vanessa’s vulnerable mind. He looked at Elle. “You need anything?”

Elle shook her head.

“If I hold her mind, can you do what you need to do? Or do I need to let it go?”

“It will be best if you’re not touching her…physically or otherwise.”

Vanessa’s eyes were huge, dark in her pale face. They wheeled back and forth between his face and Elle’s. She didn’t move—couldn’t move, not unless Michael let her. But her entire body was tense, tight. Ready to flee or fight.

“She’s going to try and take off the minute I release her,” he warned Elle.

She nodded. “I figured.” Jerking her head, she said, “Go stand by the door. Just in case.”

As Michael did, Elle prowled around the little apartment. Her eyes landed on a black silk scarf draped over the coffee table. She grabbed it and approached Vanessa. “Don’t let her go until I tell you.”

“I won’t.”

Vanessa began to struggle against his mental hold, harder and harder.

Elle used the scarf as a makeshift gag and Michael closed his eyes. He could feel her fear through their mind link, feel her terror. And the demon…rousing. Stretching against her skin. Whispering to her… Call…call for help. Call for help and they’ll leave you alone.

But Michael wouldn’t loosen his grasp enough for her to do that. She couldn’t so much as twitch a finger, much less call for help.

“Okay, Michael.”

Elle was standing in front of Vanessa, her willowy body braced, like she was facing down a linebacker instead of a young woman who stood just an inch or so over five feet.

Michael dropped his hold and Vanessa lunged. She didn’t make it two inches before Elle caught her and used the girl’s momentum and body weight to take her to the floor.

“Listen to me. I’m not going to hurt you,” Elle said, catching first one wildly swinging fist, then the other.

Vanessa whimpered and bucked, trying to knock Elle away.

“Easy…easy…”

Michael felt it when she started. He hadn’t known if he’d feel anything—there was a light push, followed by a rush of cold and loneliness. Pain that stretched on without end. Emptiness.

His own eyes stung with tears and Elle wasn’t even focused on him.

Beneath her, Vanessa sobbed.

“It doesn’t get better,” Elle whispered, her voice sympathetic and gentle. “It just gets worse. One day, you’ll want somebody who doesn’t want you…but you’ll need it too much. You’ll want it too much, and since you’re stronger you’ll just take it. You’ll hurt people…unless you die first.”

Vanessa averted her face, but both Michael and Elle had seen the tears on her face.

Without a link to her mind, Michael didn’t know what she was thinking. But he didn’t need to be linked to her to recognize the pain inside of her.

Elle’s voice dropped, soft and low. “Is that really what you want? Is that who you want to be?” Carefully, she eased the gag down, letting the girl talk.

“You’re lying… I don’t like hurting people. I wouldn’t.”

“You won’t have a choice. The demon inside you is getting stronger—sooner or later you won’t be able to fight it.”

“Demon?” Vanessa shook her head. “I don’t have the demon inside me.”

“Yes, you do. And I think you know it. You feel it…that darkness inside of you, so alien, so cold, so hungry. It’s not a part of you—you know that, even though you don’t completely understand it.” Elle’s face darkened with a frown. “You don’t remember inviting her in, but you did. It’s the only way they can get in, and once they’re inside, you start to feel different. Very different. I bet you even remember when it happened… Yes, you do. I can feel it. You can’t hide it from me. She can’t hide it from me.”

Vanessa started to shake. She stared at Elle, terror written all over her features. “No.”

Abruptly, the young woman’s body arched and started to spasm violently. Elle swore and shot Michael a desperate glance. “Help me.”

Demon-strong. Michael caught her legs and kept them from thrashing. Elle held her upper body down, a cold, hard smile curling her lips.

Keep fighting, Michael thought. Just keep fighting.

If the succubus fought hard enough she would wear herself down. Without a body to jump to, she would have to retreat to the netherplains and rebuild her strength. It would take her a few days at least, which would give them a little bit more time.

It was also possible that she had invested too much strength in Vanessa. That the succubus would die without her connection to her host. That would just be an added bonus as far as Michael was concerned.

Vanessa’s mouth opened, but the voice wasn’t hers. The succubus…she wasn’t human and she never had been. “You’ll pay for this. My queen will hunt you down. You’ll die screaming while my brothers and sisters fuck you both until you bleed.”

“Do you promise?” Elle purred, her voice husky. Michael didn’t need to see her face to sense her excitement, to feel her adrenaline rush.

Elle was all about the hunt, it seemed.

The succubus shrieked.

Elle swore and fought to cover the girl’s mouth. The demon swore, kicked and fought. But she wasn’t strong enough to handle both of them and in moments, Elle had the gag back in place.

“Vanessa, you’re stronger than she is…for now. You’re still in control. Come back…talk to us.”

Behind the gag, the succubus hissed. Vanessa’s eyes rolled back in her head and then she went limp.

“Is she…?”

“No.” Elle shook her head. “They’re fighting. I can feel it.”

I was exhausted by the time it was over. Michael carried Vanessa’s sleeping body to the hard, uncomfortable-looking futon tucked against the far wall. She was asleep, but before we left, Michael would have to wake her up. We couldn’t leave any memories of us intact. If we did and one of the other demon-touched came looking for Vanessa, our cover would be blown. We couldn’t afford that. There were still too many left—I know I’d felt eight or nine, at least.

Plus, there was the queen.

“You need to wake her up.”

Michael gave me a questioning glance.

Shifting from one foot to the other, I said, “She can’t remember we were here. If anybody comes looking for her, I don’t want her remembering this. Not until we find the queen and take her out.”

“You want me to take the memory of us away.”

“Yes.” I sighed and started to pace. The knee-high leather boots I wore were pinching my toes. I wanted nothing more than to take them off, get out of the dress and soak in a hot tub of water. But we had to finish here and I doubted I’d stay awake long enough once we were done.

“If one of the others come looking for her, she’s going to say no. I scared the hell out of her.” I had—and I didn’t feel the least bit guilty for it either. It had worked and that was all that mattered just then.

She wouldn’t go back to that club. Hopefully, the fear would strengthen her. “She might lie, but I don’t want her lying to a demon. They will figure it out. But if her memory of tonight is gone she won’t have to lie. She’ll be safer.”

A muscle jerked in Michael’s jaw. He stared over my shoulder at the wall. Long seconds of silence ticked away. Then his green eyes met mine and he gave a single, short nod. “I can do that. What do you want her to remember?”

“Whatever you think will work best. You link with her mind, right?”

“I have to. It’s the only way it will work.”

I nodded. “Good. When you link with her mind, as you put down a false memory, you should be able to feel it if something seems too off. Right?”

I was grasping at straws here. I didn’t understand much about mind control. But I did understand connections—psychic and emotional connections were useful tools.

“If I let her go slowly, I should be able to sense it if something feels wrong. I’ll trigger the memory and we’ll see what happens.”

“Works for me.” Pursing my lips, I studied Vanessa’s still body. “You think she would know who the queen is?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Off to the east, the sky was beginning to lighten by the time we were done with Vanessa. Michael looked as exhausted as I felt. He had dark shadows under his eyes, and there was unhappiness in that enigmatic green gaze.

I let Michael drive. He looked like he needed to do something with his hands.

Besides, I was exhausted. I know it didn’t hit other Grimms as hard, but any time I had to use my so-called “gift”, it wore me out. Hopefully I could stay awake long enough to get to my bed.

We were both quiet as we pulled away from the apartment. Both listening. Both on alert. Nobody had come looking for Vanessa while we had been at her apartment.

“You think she’s going to be okay?” I asked, worried. “I know we fixed the memory, but still…”

Michael glanced my way. He shook his head and a faint smile twitched at his lips. “She won’t be there. I left her with the suggestion that she leave for a few days—maybe for good. I think she’s going to go back home. I told her to find someplace safe, someplace where she felt loved. All she could think of was home. She’ll sleep for a few hours and then she’ll be gone. I doubt they will think to look for her today, and if they did start looking, it wouldn’t be until tonight. By then, she’ll be gone.”

I heaved out a sigh of relief. “Good.”

I relaxed against the seat.

A little too much. My lids felt heavy. So did my body. Somehow, I knew I wasn’t going to make it to my own bed before I crashed. I rubbed my eyes and glanced at Michael. “Hey, I guess I better warn you. Sometimes when I use the gift, it throws me for a loop. If I fall asleep, I’ll be unconscious for a good four to six hours straight.” I tried to smile. “You can just dump me at my place. It’s not too far from where you’re staying. I can…” I never even noticed I had fallen asleep.

Throws me for a loop. A bit of an understatement, Michael thought. She had fallen asleep in midsentence and he had no idea where she was staying. Had she brought her purse? He scowled, trying to remember. Yes, he thought she’d had one in the club.

Keeping his eyes away from his unconscious passenger, he pulled to the side of the road to check for a purse, or anything that might tell him where she was staying.

A few minutes and one fruitless search later, he pulled back onto the road. Her purse had held cash, the false ID for her current persona and a tube of lipstick—that seductive, wine-red shade that seemed to scream “fuck me”.

He was fucked.

Elle sat next to him, sleeping peacefully. Five minutes earlier, she had shifted in the seat and when she did, that microscopic skirt had climbed so high on her thighs, he could see the wine-red lace of her panties. The panties were the same shade as her dress and her ivory skin glowed against the vivid color.

He found himself staring at her thighs, at the shadowed triangle where her thighs met. He jerked his attention back to the road and gripped the steering wheel so hard it was a miracle the plastic didn’t crack.

I’m no bleeding saint, Michael thought grimly.

His control was being stretched thin, and considering how tired he was, it was a miracle he hadn’t cracked.

The drive to his condo seemed to take twice as long as normal, and yet it also seemed as though it was over in the blink of an eye. She didn’t wake up when he stopped the car. She didn’t wake up when he opened her door and crouched down beside her. He rested a hand on her knee, certain she would wake up when he touched her.

“Elle.”

She didn’t stir.

Shit.

Setting his jaw, he worked his arms under her and eased her out of the car. As he straightened, she cuddled against his chest, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. She sighed in her sleep, “Michael.”

His heart stopped. Elle…

“Get a grip,” he muttered. Keeping his eyes focused straight ahead, he managed to make it across the paved drive and into the condo without looking at her. Of course, not looking at her didn’t really help. He was acutely aware of her warm weight, her soft curves and silken skin left bare by her skimpy dress. Her scent flooded his head and his mouth watered for another taste of her.

A real taste—when all he had to think about was her. A real taste—when he didn’t have to share her, didn’t have to worry about who was watching.

He tucked her into his bed, trying not to think about how much he wanted to join her. It was a big bed, wide as a lake and soft. Her golden hair spilled across the ebony bed linens. One fat curl lay across her cheek. Unable to resist, he reached out and brushed it away. Then he stroked his thumb across her lower lip.

Her mouth puckered. Her brows drew low over her eyes. “Michael…” She reached out.

“Shhh.” He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. Then he eased it back, tucking it under the blankets and smoothing them down. “Rest, Elle. You’re safe.”

Rising, he forced himself to walk away. Just as he went to close the door behind him, he heard her whisper, “Je t’aime.”

I love you.

1704

His head ached.

The taste of stale wine lay on his tongue. The light filtering in through the curtains was painfully bright. It would be best if he just remained in bed, but he couldn’t.

He needed to find Elle. Needed to talk to her.

Needed her. He needed Elle.

Elle. As in Giselle…the young stepsister of his fiancée. He had fallen in love with her. He had convinced himself that his interludes with the girl meant nothing, that she was just a distraction. But in his heart of hearts, he’d known the truth and ignored it. If she had just been the daughter of one of the visiting nobles it would have been so much easier. In a few short weeks, she would leave his family’s summer estate and it would be unlikely he would see her again.

But she was Giselle, Marguerite’s beloved little sister. His betrothed had often written of the younger woman, and he knew there was little Marguerite wouldn’t do for the girl.

It was a sentiment he understood well.

Swearing, he cradled his aching head in his hands. Part of him was filled with dread—he had seen the shock, the pain in Elle’s face last night when the formal announcements were made. Seeing her pain had been like taking a dagger to his heart.

He needed to see her. He needed to bid her farewell.

Farewell.

Michael closed his eyes. Even though he’d known it was inevitable, he still couldn’t conceive it. Couldn’t imagine walking away from her, never seeing her again.

Letting her go.

But he must. He had no choice.

Do you not?

The sly, insidious whisper crept up on him. He tried to shove it away, but then the pain returned and he knew he’d do anything to keep her with him.

For always.

He was a man. She was a lovely woman who had already given herself to him. There was no need to let her go. He could take care of her. Set her up somewhere close to him, and they could be together as often as possible. It was a common enough arrangement. Most of the men he knew had mistresses.

Of course, he couldn’t think of a single one setting up his sister-in-law as his mistress.

She has feelings for me, he told himself.

It would actually be a kindness to her—any future husband she might have wouldn’t indulge her the way her father had, the way her stepmother and stepsister had. That fiery spirit of hers would be crushed.

I cannot do this, he told himself, but he heard the lack of conviction.

It wasn’t fair to her.

But then again…how fair was it that they lose each other when they had just found each other? They were happy together. They belonged together.

Before long, he had himself convinced it was the best thing to do.

The only thing.

Yes…this is what I must do.

He found Elle at the northern edge of the lake, sitting on the grass and staring out over the water. Her golden hair was loose and blowing in the wind. She wore men’s clothing.

To him, she looked lovelier than any lady of the court.

“Elle.”

When she looked at him, he realized she had been crying. Her summery blue eyes were red and swollen. A jagged pain tore through him. She came to her feet and he braced himself. His Elle had a temper.

“Your highness,” she said, her voice soft and low. She curtsied, and despite the men’s clothing, she looked lovely and elegant. “I beg your pardon. I shall leave—”

“Stop.” He barely managed to keep from bellowing. Striding up to her, he caught her arm. “Do not do that.”

“Do what, your highness?” She kept her head lowered.

“That. I have a name, the same name you’ve used for this past week. I would thank you to use it.” Look at me. Darling girl, please look at me.

“I beg your pardon, your highness, but I cannot. It was only in my ignorance that I addressed you so inappropriately.” She eased back a step. “If you would excuse me—”

“I will not. I came to speak with you.”

Finally, her gaze met his for only the briefest second. Then she looked away, staring past him into the trees. “I do not think it is proper that we speak, your highness,” she said softly.

“This past week, you have cared nothing for being proper. Why do you suddenly care now?”

“Because now I know who you are.” She swallowed and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice cracked. “You are my sister’s betrothed. You are Prince Louis Michael III. And I…” Shaking her head, she backed away. “I must go. Farewell, your highness.”

“No,” he growled. Grabbing her arms, he hauled her against him and fisted a hand in her bright, golden curls. Her hair was like sun-warmed silk under his hand. “I am not ready for you to go.”

He kissed her, desperate to find the warmth he had known this past week. But she was still and cool, unmoving under his hands. She did not fight, but she did not welcome his touch either. Frustrated, so very hungry for her, he slid a hand under her shirt and found warm, bare skin. Her breast was soft and full and when he circled his thumb over her nipple, it peaked against his touch.

“You want me,” he whispered against her mouth. “You cannot deny that.”

“No.”

He lifted his head and stared at her. “And I want you. I cannot deny that.”

“You are my sister’s betrothed. This is not right.” Tears gleamed in her eyes, but she blinked them away. A ragged breath escaped her, her slender body tensing in his arms. “Release me, your highness.”

“I cannot do that. You are mine, Elle. You gave yourself to me and I intend to keep you.” He nipped her lower lip and straightened. Staring into her eyes, he swiftly stripped her shirt away, tossing it to the grass.

She looked down at her bare breasts and then up at him, a bemused look on her face. Then she shook her head and turned away. “I cannot give myself to a man who is promised to another,” she said quietly. She bent over and grabbed her shirt.

The fabric of her breeches drew tight across her rump and Michael caught her hips, holding her steady as he pressed against her. She whimpered, a soft, hungry female sound that went straight to his head. His blood pumped hot and fast. “You are mine,” he whispered.

She straightened and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tense body against his own as he dipped his hand inside her breeches. She was wet, silky wet and so hot. Mine.

Her knees buckled and she sagged against him. Instead of supporting her weight, he eased her to the ground, following her down. Shoving her breeches down to her knees, he stared at the soft, plump curves of her rump, the golden curls that framed her sex, and the glistening pink folds.

“Michael, please…”

“Yes,” he whispered, pressing his fingers to her wet slit. “Say my name. My name, not some fucking title.” He shoved his own breeches down, baring nothing but his cock and then he pressed against her.

Elle tensed and he reached around, toying with the swollen bud just above her entrance. “Say my name, Elle. Tell me you want me. Tell me you want this,” he demanded.

Tell me that you are mine…I just found you, I cannot lose you.

“Michael, we cannot do this,” she whispered.

He set his jaw. In the back of his mind he knew he should stop. He reached for what little remained of his control. She shivered in his arms, whimpering low in her throat.

“Shhh…” he murmured, brushing his lips over her bare shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he sent the order to his hands to release her. But then she rolled her hips back.

Swearing, he reached up and turned her face, covering her mouth with his as he sank his aching cock into her slick pussy. Tight—as tight as she had been just the other day when he took what she had given to no other man. She whimpered and shifted, trying to spread her thighs to better accommodate him, but the breeches still tangled around her knees prevented it.

“Mine,” he rasped against her lips as she cried out.

Bracing one elbow on the grass, he used the other to grip her hip, bracing her as he rode her—deep and hard, lost in the feel of her, the taste of her. The sound of her crying out his name as he brought her to pleasure was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

It was hard, brutal and fast…devastating, over all too soon. She came around him with a sob and he erupted inside her, emptying himself. Collapsing atop her body, he rolled to his side, drawing her with him.

The sun shone down on their bodies, warm and bright. A gentle breeze danced across their flesh as he stroked a hand down her hip.

Kissing her shoulder, he whispered, “My Elle…”

“Je t’aime.”

The whispered declaration washed over him and he closed his eyes. Gripping her hip, he started to move inside her again. “Yes. That is what I want from you, Elle…what I need. Say it again.”

She remained silent.

Pulling away, he stripped her clothes away and then his own. Then he laid her on the discarded clothing and came into her again. Cupping her face in his hands, he demanded, “Look at me, Elle. Say it again.”

Elle’s eyes remained stubbornly closed.

Swearing, Michael raked his teeth down her neck, along her jaw. Against her ear, he whispered, “I love you so much it hurts. My darling girl, do you not know?”

“Michael, please…”

He reached between them, stroking her clitoris with the tip of his finger. The little nub of flesh was hard and erect and she cried out when he touched her, her voice ragged and breathless.

He toyed with her, stroking and teasing until she was panting, straining for the release he held just out of her reach. Her nails raked down his back and she bit his shoulder so hard she left a mark on him. “Tell me again, Elle. Please tell me…”

“I love you, Michael.” She whispered it quietly, her golden lashes shielding her eyes.

But she’d said it. She’d admitted it. She was his. He would keep her.

“Darling girl.”

As he brought her to one final climax, he crushed his mouth to hers.

Mine…

Quiet moments passed and Michael found himself drifting closer and closer to sleep. But then Elle stirred in his arms and he sat up as she did. When she would have stood, he caught her arm and pulled her into his lap. She sat there stiffly, staring out over the lake.

“We should talk arrangements,” he said quietly. Already, he had an idea where she would live. It was close enough that he could see her several times a week, or more.

“Arrangements.”

“Yes.” He brushed her hair back from her face, staring down at her, aching for the sadness in her eyes. It would pass though. He wouldn’t lose her, and she wouldn’t lose him. “I was thinking I could bring you to the city in a few months.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but her body grew more rigid in his arms. “Bring me to the city, your highness? For what purpose?”

“So we can be together, Elle. You love me…you have freely admitted it. I love you. I will not be without you.”

A humorless smile twisted her lips. “You expect me to be your mistress.”

“I expect you to be exactly what you already are…the woman I fell in love with.”

“The woman you wish to fuck whenever you choose. I wonder what your betrothed would think of this.” She drove her elbow into his stomach, forcing the air from him.

Then she jerked away, grabbing her shirt and jerking it out from under his leg. She pulled it over her head and shoved her tangled hair back from her face. Calmly, she stared at him and said, “No.”

Michael came to his feet, narrowing his eyes. “No?” he echoed quietly.

“That is what I said. No.”

Striding towards her, he caught her in his arms and jerked her against him. “I will not lose you, Elle. You are mine.”

“I belong to no man…especially not you. I will not be your whore—you are to wed my sister. I love her, but you would ask me to hurt her like this? Betray her? No. I will not.”

“You will not leave me. I will not allow it.” He fisted a hand in her hair and rasped quietly, “You know who I am now, Elle. You will be mine—I care not what it takes to keep you.”

She stilled, her blue eyes wide as she gaped at him.

“You would threaten me?” she demanded.

“I would do what I must to keep what is mine.”

“I am not yours,” she snarled.

“You are.” He kissed that snarling mouth and then lifted his head. “If I were to go to your stepmother and tell her how you threw yourself at my feet, what would she think? She may well turn you out on the streets, and unless you find either a husband or a keeper you would be homeless…destitute.”

She swallowed. “No. You cannot tell her. It would break her heart…it would break her heart and Marguerite’s.”

“They needn’t know,” he whispered, wiping away a tear as it rolled down her cheek.

“And how do you think to keep it secret if you set me up as your mistress?” she demanded.

“I will think of something.” He stared at her averted face, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her stiff back. “You are mine, Elle.”

Her head bowed, her shoulders slumped. She looked utterly broken.

“It will be well, Elle. Trust me.”

“No.” She lifted her head and those soft blue eyes were cold. She jerked against his hold and said, “I will not trust you, and this will not be well.”

She struggled in his arms, kicking his shins when he wouldn’t release her. When that didn’t work, she went to bite him. Michael banded an arm around her waist and jerked her off her feet. She screeched at him as he impaled her on his cock. “Put me down, you bastard,” she snarled.

He kissed her and she bit his lip.

He bit her back and she shuddered. Her legs twined around his waist and she pulled away, staring at him.

“Ride me,” he rasped. “Ride me, Elle.” He gripped her hips and guided her movements. She was swollen, wet from the past two times he had spent himself inside her.

“I will not be your whore,” she whispered even as she clenched around him and started to rock. Her strong thighs gripped his hips.

Cupping her ass, he stroked his fingers down the crevice between her cheeks. He watched as a flush came to her face when he pressed against her back entrance. “You are not my whore…you are my heart. My love. I cannot lose you.”

“But I was never yours,” she whispered, shaking her head. She shuddered, her teeth catching her lower lip as he eased the tip of his finger inside the tight pucker of her ass. “Nor were you mine. This ends, Michael. It must.”

“No.” He took her to the ground, pulling out and then guiding her to her hands and knees. He pushed back inside her, sinking his cock into her heat as he pressed his thumb against her ass and entered her that way as well. He would have her in every way. All ways. In time.

In time, she would see that this was how it must be. They belonged together.

The minutes bled away as he loved her, and when at last it ended he whispered against her ear, “I will take care of you, Elle. I will take care of this. All will be well.”

Then, exhausted by the past hours, he drifted off to sleep.

It was nearly dusk when he awoke, and Elle was gone.

He returned, wanting to seek her out, but refraining. They must be careful how they handled this. He wouldn’t see her dishonored. Though his heart ached to see her again, he left her alone that night.

He planned to seek her out the next morning, certain that she would be out riding, just as she had every day since she had come to his family’s summer estate.

But he couldn’t find her. Not that day.

And the next morning, he heard the news.

Elle had disappeared.

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was the pain that woke me.

The pain was so deep, even in sleep I couldn’t hide from it.

Groggy, I sat up, staring at the unfamiliar room. Although I had never seen the room before, I knew where I was. It was Michael’s room. I recognized the scent of him on the sheets. Although I was alone, I could feel him all around me.

My dress hadn’t fared well—it was tangled around my waist, and the silk was wrinkled beyond all hope. I caught sight of the closet as I climbed out of bed. I shimmied out of the dress and draped it over the foot of the bed. The closet was full of black, black and more black. I selected one of the shirts and pulled it on. Since he wasn’t there to see, I held the fine material to my face and breathed him in.

Leaving the bedroom, I squared my shoulders. Mentally, I reinforced my shields. I had a bad feeling I knew what was coming.

This would be so much easier if I didn’t still care for him. So much easier if I didn’t still love him.

I found him on the balcony, staring out over the lake. He didn’t turn to face me but I knew he was aware of me.

I closed the sliding glass door at my back and folded my arms over my middle. It was early, not quite dawn, although I could see where the sky was beginning to lighten in the east. The air was cool and damp. A heavy mist lay over the water.

“Good morning, Michael.” Shivering, I moved away from the door, stopping halfway across the deck.

Under the fine silk, the muscles of his shoulders tensed. He turned to me, his eyes dark and turbulent. There was a heavy growth of stubble darkening his features. I’m pretty sure I had never seen him looking so unkempt.

“It’s only been three hours. Do you need more rest?” he asked, his tone polite, cordial even.

I shrugged. My body could have used more sleep, but there was no way I was going to get any more rest today. “Have you slept?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“No.”

In the thin, predawn light, he looked grim, forbidding.

And he felt…broken.

Tears pricked my eyes and I averted my face, hoping he wouldn’t see. Dear God. The pain. The loneliness. The longing. I couldn’t read thoughts, but emotions were so much more devastating. While I had slept, he had been reliving those few days we’d had together.

Remembering…wondering.

Hurting.

I took no pleasure in his pain. How could I? I swallowed past the knot in my throat. “You know what, I think I may go lie back down.” I backed away from him. No, I wouldn’t sleep. But maybe I could delay this a little while longer.

But this wouldn’t be delayed.

Before I made it to the door, he caught my arm. “I want to know what happened.”

“No.” I didn’t bother pretending ignorance. There was no point.

“Yes. You need to tell me.”

“No.” I shook my head and tugged gently against his hand.

He didn’t let me go. “Elle, I need to know.” He brought his other hand up and smoothed my tangled hair back from my face. Then he cupped my chin in his hand, angling my face up until I met his gaze.

I stared into the dark, screaming hell of his eyes and whispered, “No.” Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself. “You do not need to know. You do not want to know. And I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?” Something flashed in his eyes and I could feel his temper spike. But his voice remained gentle, as did his hands.

Sighing, I rested my hands on his chest. Under the black silk, I could feel the warmth of his body, the strength. Curling my fingers in the silk, I gave into the urge and moved close. His arms came around me as I lay my head on his chest. “Because that is knowledge you do not need in your head,” I told him.

“I have to know.” His arms tightened, almost too tight. Then he caught my arms in his hands and eased me back. “I must know.”

I shook my head. “What happened to me, Michael, is over and done. It’s another lifetime ago. Those memories are mine and I will keep them that way. I won’t share that burden with you.”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Do you truly want me to believe that you keep silent out of some desire to protect me?”

“Nothing will come from me sharing those memories with you.” Nothing good, at least.

“Damn it, woman,” he growled. “Tell me.”

“Why? So you can hate yourself even more than you do now?” I could no longer fight the tears burning my eyes. They broke free, rolling down my cheeks in hot, stinging tracks. “The guilt inside you, it’s choking me. I am not going to add to it.”

“Why not?” he asked, his voice soft, deceptively so. Fury and grief shone in his eyes. The flood of emotions welling inside him threatened to tear him apart…and me.

“You hate me for what happened to you, for what I did to you, for what I threatened to do. Here is your chance to make me suffer, even more than I already do. Why do you not take it?”

“I don’t hate you,” I whispered. I looked away from his face, staring out over the lake.

Gentle fingertips wiped away my tears and I shivered under his touch.

“Don’t you? You have every right.”

“Three hundred years is a long time to hold a grudge, Michael.” Up until recently, I had believed that I did hate him.

I had been wrong. Very wrong. I didn’t hate him. I loved him. I love him still. And I suspected I’d love him until the end of time…beyond.

But I didn’t tell him that.

He caught my chin in his hand, guided my face back to his. He stared into my eyes, his gaze intent, probing. It was as though he could learn my secrets through his stare alone.

I reached up and traced the line of his mouth. “Just let it go, Michael. It is in the past, very much in the past.”

“No.” His voice shook as he said it.

Then to my surprise, he yelled it. “No.”

Abruptly, he jerked away from me and started to pace. His booted heels rang hollowly on the wooden deck. I could feel all the emotions he tried to contain—rage, grief, fear. Under it all, an obsessive need to know.

I feared the knowledge would destroy him.

It was a secret I had shared only with Will.

If I had it my way, I would go to my grave without telling another soul. Especially Michael.

“Why, damn it? Make me understand, Elle. It was my fault. I drove you away. If I hadn’t done that, nothing would’ve happened to you. Whatever happened to you, the blame lies at my feet. You know this. So why will you not tell me?”

I shook my head. I shivered, but it had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

“Give me one damn reason,” he snarled, wheeling around to glare at me.

“Because I still love you.” I dashed away my tears with my fingertips. Staring at him, I shook my head and backed away. “I still love you—I don’t think I ever stopped. And I can’t hurt you like that.”

Turning away, I moved towards the sliding glass door. As I reached to open it, his arms came up and penned me in. I froze. Michael dipped his head and kissed my shoulder. His voice a soft whisper, he murmured, “What did you say?”

“You heard me well enough.” I held still, afraid to move.

“How?” he asked, bemused. He stroked a hand down my hip. “How can you possibly love me after what I did? After what I said to you?”

Closing my eyes, I sighed. Such a complicated question. Such a simple question.

How?

I swallowed the knot in my throat. “You said awful things, Michael. You threatened me with awful things…but you wouldn’t have gone through with them.”

The sound of his laughter, so bitter and brittle, damn near broke my heart. “Of all people, Elle, you should know better than to romanticize me.”

“I’ve never romanticized you a day of my life.” I turned to face him, staring up at his face—such a perfect face. The elegant, masculine beauty of it had haunted my dreams for years, decades…centuries. “Three hundred years ago, you were arrogant, self-centered and entirely too concerned with what pleased you.”

I reached up, trailed my fingers down his jaw, along his lower lip. “But you are not cruel. You never have been. You wouldn’t intentionally harm one you cared about. You did care about me.”

A hand hard as iron closed around my wrist. I stared up into eyes that glittered like broken glass. “How can you still be so naïve? How? As long as you have lived, as much of you have seen… You know what ugliness lives in the hearts of men.”

His voice was cold and cruel, as though he felt the need to convince me how wrong I was. I smiled at him. Laying my free hand on his cheek, I told him, “I know the ugliness. I also know the beauty. For every evil, ugly deed, there is a kind, selfless one.”

“I’ve never been kind or selfless a day in my life.” He caught my other wrist, drawing my hand from his face. He pinned both my wrists over my head and leaned in close, so close I could feel the kiss of his breath against my mouth. “I was willing to do anything to keep you, willing to ruin your life…had you not run away, I might have even stolen you away.”

“No.” How was it that I knew the truth but he did not? Did he truly understand himself so poorly? I flexed my wrists against his hold, tugging lightly. There was no give. He didn’t hold me to hurt me, but he wouldn’t release me easily either.

Sighing, I let my head fall back against the sliding glass door. I studied his face, all hollows, angles and shadows. His eyes glittered in the darkness and his mouth was a hard, unyielding line. “Have you ever wondered why my father, and later my stepmother, were so content to let me flout the rules of society? I was seventeen…I should have already been presented at court. If they had raised me as they should, I would have met you before I could unknowingly throw myself at your feet. They should have been seeking out a prospective husband for me, but instead I wore men’s clothes and spent my days hunting or riding.”

“What has that to do with anything?” he asked.

“Everything.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then I looked at him. “I would have happily lived out my life without ever leaving my father’s home had I not met you. And my stepmother never would have pressed me…because she knew the truth about me.”

“The truth.” He lowered my wrists and backed away, staring at me with confusion.

I stared him in the eyes and said quietly, “Being Changed only strengthened what I could already do, Michael. I was empathic long before I met Will. Long before I met you. My father knew. He knew what a struggle it was for me to be around too many others for any long stretch of time and he feared for me. Later, my stepmother learned my secret, as did my stepsister. It’s why very few people in society knew a damn thing about me. While Marguerite played the part of a noblewoman, I lived in complete and utter freedom…but only because if I had lived as she did it might have driven me mad. It took me years to learn the control I needed to be close to others for more than a few hours at a time. Years before I could handle functioning in society in some small way.”

Michael shook his head. “I don’t see what in the hell that has to do with anything.”

I reached up and laid a hand on his heart. Then I reached inside myself for a memory that I had kept locked away for years…the emotion I had caught off of him as he made a threat he couldn’t possibly keep.

I turned it back on him, revealing to him the knowledge I’d picked up from him—even as he’d made the threat, I knew he’d lied. He might not have realized it, but I did.

He stumbled back and my hands fell to my sides. “You couldn’t have done it. I knew it even as you said it. I knew it even if you didn’t,” I said quietly. “That doesn’t mean I wasn’t furious with you—it was an ugly thing you threatened. But they were just words. It was an empty threat and I knew it then.”

Turning from him, I slid the glass door open and slipped inside.

I’d almost made it to the bedroom before he caught up with me, one hand on my arm, whirling me around. “Then why did you run?” he demanded, his voice harsh…broken.

“Because I couldn’t watch you marry my sister,” I told him simply. “It would have broken Marguerite’s heart if I didn’t go, although she would have believed it was because I couldn’t handle being around so many people. I could have handled it for a short time…if it wasn’t for you. Because I didn’t want to lie to her, and because I didn’t want to live the rest of my life thinking about the two of you together, I ran.”

CHAPTER NINE

I looked away from him, closed my eyes. Then I made myself look at him. I owed him that much, at least. He’d spent the past three hundred years thinking he had frightened me into running. He deserved the truth now. He’d deserved it long before now.

“I ran for my own reasons, Michael. Not because of any empty threat you made.” I sighed and reached up, tracing the line of his lower lip. “What happened to me was my own fault, not yours.”

Turning from him, I reached for the door. I needed to get out of here. I needed to be away from him…before I did something dreadfully stupid. Like reach for him. Or beg him for the promises I’d wanted from him three hundred years ago.

Just before I would have slid the door open, a hand came up and pressed against it. I could feel him at my back, his strength, his solid warmth. His mouth brushed over my shoulder, nuzzled me just behind my ear. I shuddered and held still, hardly able to breathe.

“I know you still want me,” he whispered as he slid a hand around my waist, flattened it against my belly. He eased my body back against his and I groaned as the length of his cock nestled against my bottom. “I can feel it…smell it…taste it.”

His tongue stroked along the curve of my ear, sending little shivers down my spine. “I knew you still wanted me when we first saw each other, just the other night. It’s been three hundred years, but I’ve never forgotten that look in your eyes,” he said quietly. His hand rubbed over my belly in slow, ever-widening circles. Soon, the heel of his hand teased the curls between my thighs. “I knew you still wanted me and imagined you hated yourself for it. And now you tell me you still love me. Do you have any idea what that does to me?”

I let my head fall back against his shoulder. He moved against me and my breath caught in my throat. “Actually, I have a pretty good idea.”

He turned me in his arms, crowding me up against the cool glass of the door. He laid a hand on my chest, just a little above the slope of my breast. His thumb rested in the hollow of my throat, his fingers curling around the back of my neck. I felt my pulse jump under his touch and I caught my lower lip between my teeth as I lifted my eyes to his.

“You can’t know,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You can’t possibly know…it’s like I’m dying inside—like you’ve completed everything I am, and now I can die happy. And yet it’s like I’ve been dead, and only now do I live, like you’ve brought life back inside me. It’s…” His voice trailed off and he dipped his head, rested his brow against mine.

“It’s everything,” I said quietly.

Now his lashes lifted, revealing a turbulent, emerald green gaze. “Everything. How can you know?”

Swallowing, I focused and projected out and let him feel just what it was I felt within him. “Because I know. And because you complete me in the very same way.”

I stared up at his face, into the eyes of the only man I’d ever really loved. The only man I would love…my prince. Perhaps he wasn’t always so charming, but he was the one man I’d been born to love.

Still holding his gaze, I reached for the buttons of his shirt and released them one by one. A breath hissed out of him and his lashes drooped low, shielding his eyes. He caught my wrists, eased them to my side. “Elle, are you so certain this is wise? Are you so certain this is what you want?”

“I know I want you…I know I’ve always wanted you,” I said. I twisted my wrists in his grip and linked my fingers with his. I pressed against him, rubbed my cheek against the chest I had bared. He still didn’t release my wrists, standing as still as a statue. Rolling my eyes upward, I stared at his face and dipped my head, tracing my tongue around his nipple.

“Elle…” he groaned out my name, his teeth clenched. Twin flags of color rode high on his cheeks and that long, lean body of his trembled.

“Michael…” I echoed, teasing him. I tugged against his hold, and this time he released me. I slipped his shirt off his shoulders and walked around him, pressing my lips to his spine.

Michael lifted his hands, braced them against the glass. The muscles in his arms bunched, standing out in stark relief. Lean, chiseled muscles, his body graceful and fluid, so incredibly perfect, so incredibly strong. I feathered the tips of my fingers down his back and watched as that strong body shuddered under my touch.

There is nothing like touching a man and watching him shake under your hands.

It’s a potent drug. An addictive one.

There is nothing like being wanted by the one you want.

My mouth was dry as I fought with the belt at his waist. He remained still, his hands pressed to the glass, his head bent. Ducking back around him, I leaned against the glass and slid my hand inside his trousers. His eyes flew open when my hand closed around his cock. A sexy little snarl pulled his lips back from his teeth and I shuddered as he pressed himself into my hand.

Then he reached down, gripped my wrist and pulled me away. When I would have used my other hand, he caught it, pinning both of them to the glass door just by my head.

“Stop,” he muttered, nipping my lip. “Whether you see it or not, there’s too much unsaid between us. I want you, more than I want my next breath, more than I’ve ever wanted anything or anybody, but I can’t lose you again, Elle. It would kill me. So unless you plan on staying with me, unless you plan on being mine—always—you need to stop.”

“All I ever wanted in my life was to be yours,” I said. My voice trembled as I said it. I stared at him and all the naked longing I felt was probably written on my face.

He sucked in a deep breath. “Be sure, Elle. Be very sure. Because you won’t be able to run fast enough this time to get away from me.”

“Do you promise?”

His mouth crushed down on mine. A hand came between us, jerked hard. I heard these odd little rip-pop sounds and then felt the cool kiss of air on my breasts, followed by the heat of his body as he pressed against me. The shirt, I thought vaguely. He’d all but ripped the shirt off of me. A few seconds later, it drifted down to the ground by my feet and I was naked in his arms.

Wrapping my arms around him, I opened for him. There was a strange little mewling sound and I realized it was coming from me. He boosted me up, my back still braced against the glass door. He rubbed against me and I growled against his lips, disappointed as the fine wool of his trousers stroked over my heated flesh. Naked. I wanted him as naked as I was.

Tearing my mouth from his, I shoved him back, wiggling impatiently in his arms until he let me go. I went to my knees in front of him and reached for button on his trousers. I fumbled and fought until I had it undone. I did the same with his zipper. I shoved his trousers and underwear down and then opened my mouth, took him inside.

I felt his shock. Felt his pleasure. His hands tangled in my hair and he tugged, but it was halfhearted at best. In another three seconds he was guiding me and I moved quicker, faster. I stroked a hand up his thigh, cupped the heavy, warm sac between his legs in my hand and tugged gently.

He swore and the muscles in his legs stiffened. I dropped my shields and followed the cues I picked up from him, tightening my grip on his balls, sucking on him harder, harder. He liked it when I used the edge of my teeth, loved it when I took him so deep, it left me gasping for air.

So I did all those things and when he would have reached for my hair, tried to pull me away, I tightened my grasp, squeezing. At the same time, I stroked my tongue over the head of his cock and then I bit him gently.

He shouted out my name and then I felt his cock jerk in my mouth. Sucking on him furiously, I let go of his balls and gripped his hips, held him as I moved faster, took him deeper.

I felt it only seconds before it tore through him, a rippling climax that left his legs weak and his head spinning. I swallowed and continued to move, sucking until he was panting and swearing, all but pleading.

This time, when he pulled me up, I went, pressing kisses to his abdomen and chest, letting my breasts rub against him.

“Witch,” he muttered, slanting his mouth over mine and kissing me. He whispered, “I should be a gentleman, carry you into my bedroom, take you slow and easy, but I can’t.”

I smiled against his lips. “Why don’t you just take me instead?”

He lifted his head, staring down into my eyes. Then he pushed his knee between my thighs, widening my stance. He held my gaze and I stared back at him steadily.

I wasn’t the blushing, nervous virgin I had once been. I liked sex, even though it had taken some time to get past an instinctive fear. Most of my lovers took it slower, easier—they acted like the gentleman Michael had mentioned, keeping things slow, gentle and easy and the fear eventually stopped jumping out at me at the worst possible moment.

But I didn’t want or need gentleness from Michael.

Staring into his eyes, I trailed my fingers down my torso, stopping just shy of the blonde curls between my legs.

Michael stared at my hand, naked hunger on his face. When I started to stroke my clit, he growled and grabbed me, jerking my feet off the floor as he lifted me. Then he was pressing against me, the head of his cock rubbing against the slick folds between my thighs. I arched my hips and shuddered as he entered me…just the slightest inch.

“Now,” I demanded, glaring at him.

He eased deeper.

I raked my nails down his back and caught his lower lip between my teeth, biting him—hard.

“Elle,” he rasped, his voice a harsh, hard warning.

I could feel his hesitation, and when I focused I even had a glimmer of why. He knew I’d been raped. I don’t know how he knew, what he knew, how much he knew, but he knew enough and he wanted to take care of me.

But I didn’t need to be taken care of. I needed him. “Fuck me,” I said, projecting just enough so he would feel my hunger. “Hard. Fast. Now.” I kissed him in between words and on the last word. I twisted my hips and tightened my inner muscles, milking him.

I felt his control snap and I had just a split second to brace myself and then the world was spinning. No. Not the world. Us. One second I was pressed to the glass door and then I was pressing against the wooden floor of the deck, the boards biting into my back, Michael’s hot and demanding mouth on mine.

He cupped my hips, held me still as he forged deep, cleaving through tight, tense muscles and not stopping until he’d buried himself inside me. Tight—too tight, stretching me, filling me. I groaned and pressed my hands against his shoulders. “Give me a second,” I whispered.

He caught my wrists, jerked them over my head and rasped against my mouth, “No.” Then he used his free hand to cup my ass, angled my hips up before pulling out and driving back in. Deep. Deep. Deep. Stretching me. Filling me.

I could feel his hunger now, twining with mine, pushing me higher, faster. He shafted me, the head of his cock rubbing against the little notch buried deep inside me, sending more and more heat hurtling through my veins. I shuddered and clenched down around him and through him, I could feel how it felt…to him. How I felt to him.

It was too much.

I screamed against his mouth and came, hard, fast, flying through the air. He was still moving when I drifted back down, still riding me, his mouth pressed against my ear, muttering wicked, naughty little promises that stole my breath away.

He stroked a hand down my sweat-slicked back, squeezed the flesh of my rump and then stroked down the crevice between with the tip of his finger. I tensed and arched away from that touch. I’d had lovers, but I’d never let one take me there.

Michael did it again and I caught my breath. His eyes bored into mine and in the end I couldn’t keep looking at him. I closed my eyes, hiding, as he repeated the foreign caress.

“Haven’t you taken a man here?” he whispered against my lips.

“No.” I kept my eyes closed. He slowed, stilled on my body, and then rubbed his mouth against mine.

“Relax, darling girl,” he murmured, cupping my head in his hands and kissing me. He kissed me until I felt drugged on him, until I had no choice but to relax. Then he started to move.

This time was slow.

This time was easy.

The sun rose over the eastern horizon, shining down on us and painting us with red and gold. Michael rolled to his back, bringing me with him, and I braced my hands on his chest, riding him.

He tangled his hands in my long hair and muttered my name, praised me in the language of our birth, making promises that would have left me blushing if I wasn’t so damned eager.

The climax washed over me this time—no breath-stealing explosion, no earth-shattering quake. No, it was gentle and slow and sweet and when it ended, I collapsed against his chest, all but crying.

She was limp in his arms, her body relaxed and loose, her breathing slow and easy.

Michael stood, cradling her body against his.

She lifted her lashes, revealing lambent blue eyes. Her lips curled in a smile and she reached up, tracing her fingertip over his mouth. “Why are we moving?”

“Because you should get more rest,” he told her, rubbing his cheek against her hair.

His heart ached. Hope, after so much emptiness, was a painful burn inside him, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“I don’t want to rest,” she said, yawning. “I’m tired, but I can sleep later.”

He slanted a look down at her and smiled. He understood just what she meant. He was worn to the bone but he’d rather stay awake, enjoy the feel of her in his arms for as long as possible. “Then we’ll just lie in the bed and talk. After you eat breakfast.”

Elle wrinkled her nose. “I don’t wanna cook.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, and when she smiled up at him he felt the burn of tears prick his eyes. “I’ll take care of it. You need some food in your belly, as well as rest. If you won’t rest you can at least eat.”

Her eyes widened. A grin flirted with her mouth as she asked, “You are going to make breakfast?”

“Yes. I learned how a long time ago.” He eased her onto the wide, soft bed and caught a blanket, easing it up over her shoulders. “After all, they wouldn’t agree to offer the Choice to any servants who might be willing to come along for the ride. I had to learn to fend for myself.”

She dozed lightly while he made breakfast and opened her eyes to smile at him when he brought the tray into the room.

“Breakfast in bed,” she murmured. “You know, you do have some charming qualities about you. You really do.”

Michael smirked as he settled on the bed with the tray between them. Hopefully, he would be less likely to grab her with plates of hot bacon, eggs and toast between them. “Trying to push my buttons, Elle?” he asked, holding out a glass of orange juice.

She took it and drank half of it in two big gulps. Then she licked her lips and grinned at him. “I already know how to push your buttons,” she said loftily. “I don’t have to try.”

They ate in companionable silence. Every now and then, Michael felt the darkness of his own thoughts trying to weigh down on him, but he pushed it aside.

Not now.

Not today.

He burned inside with curiosity, the curiosity of the morbid—he needed to know what had happened to her, now more than ever. But he wouldn’t cast a pall on these moments. They had time. She said she loved him still, and he had never stopped loving her.

Whatever obstacles had kept them apart before no longer existed and he wouldn’t be kept from her. They had time.

So he kept telling himself that even as Elle gathered up their breakfast and settled the tray on the floor by the bed before rolling against him, her cheek resting on his thigh.

He trailed a hand down her naked back, staring down at her lovely face. Her eyes were closed, but she didn’t sleep. He couldn’t read thoughts until he actively chose to do so, but he could sense them—her thoughts were like a spring rain, brushing lightly against his consciousness.

So lovely. So soft and gentle.

Her skin was like silk, delicate and warm.

Something dark and ugly slashed through his mind. Unconsciously, he tensed.

The spring rain became a heavy thunderstorm, dangerous and devastating.

Her soft skin was bruised now. She wasn’t lying in a bed with him, safe…loved. She was crying…and she wasn’t alone. There were two men with her, toying with her.

He wasn’t aware his thoughts were no longer his own—wasn’t aware of anything save for the vision before him.

Elle…wearing men’s clothes she’d been wearing the first time he’d seen her. Bruises on her face, the shirt torn down the middle, leaving her breasts bare. Before his eyes, bruises formed on her breasts, dark and ugly, and in the shape of a man’s hand.

Her screaming, the sound of a drunken man’s laughter. And then her screams abruptly ceased, replaced by gasping harsh breaths as cruel hands closed around her throat.

He heard his name, but it seemed to come from a far-off distance.

A gentle hand stroked down his cheek, and abruptly he came back to himself.

Elle stared at him, her eyes wide, her face pale.

Rolling off the bed, he started to pace.

“What was that?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“Nothing,” he growled, even though he could still see those images. He closed his eyes to block them out, but they were still there, imprinted forever on his mind.

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped.

He stopped and looked at her. In the back of his mind, he could feel the rhythm of her thoughts. He was tempted to reach out, but he didn’t. He closed down, cutting his mind off from hers. Had he somehow unwittingly forged a link between them?

“Were you trying to read my mind?”

Michael closed his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. “Not consciously, no. I’ve never had that happen to me before.”

She was silent for so long. When she did finally speak, he braced himself, ready for her anger.

“Were you in my mind?”

“Yes,” he bit off. And what he’d seen, it would haunt him. For the rest of his life.

“If you weren’t consciously trying to do it, then how did it happen?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at the floor, one hand opening and closing into a fist. Useless rage boiled through him. The men who had hurt her were long dead. He could do nothing to ease her nightmare. And no matter what she said, Michael was responsible. He knew that, even if she wouldn’t openly admit it.

He took a deep, slow breath and then looked up at her. “I didn’t consciously do it. I wasn’t even consciously thinking of it. One moment I was looking at you, thinking about how lovely you are. And the next…” His voice trailed off and he stared sightlessly into the distance. “I was just there.”

Elle sighed. “What did you see?”

“You. A dirty street. Rain. Two men. Not much else.” Too much…and not enough. His gut was hot and tight, and fury left his muscles tensed and aching. Swallowing against the knot in his throat, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Elle glanced at him. Then she patted the bed beside her. “Come sit. Somehow, I suspect this will happen again unless we do something to stop it.”

Michael scowled. “And what do you propose we do? Do you plan on running from me again?”

“No.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and held out a hand. “Come sit down. I don’t want to do this, but I’m going to tell you what happened.”

Hell.

He padded to the bed and sat on the edge, cautiously. As he took her hand she rolled to her knees and moved across the bed until she reached him. Then she settled in his lap.

“It happened in Nice. And it was raining. Marguerite had cousins there and I had thought to find them. But I got lost. There’s so much noise in cities, so much emotion. I was half out of my mind. The storm came on so fast and there was thunder. My horse hated storms. I knew that, but I had no place to take shelter, not unless I found Marguerite’s cousins. I was tired, scared. I don’t really remember exactly what happened, but I think my horse threw me, because the next thing I remember is wandering the streets, wet, hungry, cold and half-sick.”

She was crying, tears rolling unchecked down her face. Michael reached up, wiping them away. Then he tucked her head under his chin and started to rock her, stroking her back and combing his fingers through her tangled hair.

“They grabbed me. These two men. I don’t even remember what they looked like. But they had strong hands and when I fought them, they laughed.” Abruptly, she tensed, pushing lightly against his chest. “I need to walk.”

Reluctantly, he let her go. She grabbed the sheet from the bed and wound it around her like a toga. The rest of the words poured from her in a torrent, harsh and fast. “When I fought, they hit me. When I screamed, they choked me. I stopped fighting because I couldn’t breathe. They tore off my clothes. One of them tried to push his penis into my mouth and I bit him. He hit me again, so hard that time that I think I passed out. When I woke, I was between them.”

She shot him a look of revulsion. “Earlier when you touched me…there, you asked if I had ever had a lover there. No, because the one thing I do remember clearly from that night is that pain. When I think of that pain, I freeze.”

Michael curled his fingers into the mattress, clutching at it. He wanted so badly to go to her. He wanted so badly to hold her.

I have no right. No right to touch her. No right to comfort her.

“Stop,” Elle said quietly. She stared at him with knowing eyes and shook her head. “It was not your fault.”

“How can you say that? How?”

“Because it isn’t.” She wiped her tears away, crossed the floor and settled once more on his lap, draping her arms around his shoulders. She pressed her brow to his. “What’s done is done. And as horrible, as awful as that pain was, that night no longer haunts me the way it used to. I don’t even remember much of it. The rain, the pain, their laughter…” Her voice trailed off and she lifted her head, staring past his shoulder.

“Sometimes I wake up remembering the pain, but then it’s done. There’s not much left of that night. Just little bits and pieces, and then darkness. I didn’t want to die, but they had hurt me so badly I was already almost gone. I heard a voice—a man telling me that I was safe. That no one would hurt me again. And even though the pain had chased me into the darkness, it was suddenly gone. I was warm and I wasn’t afraid. The voice was there again, offering me a choice.” She met his eyes and smiled faintly. She shrugged and murmured, “I wasn’t ready to die. When I woke up, Will was there. He cared for me, trained me, taught me how to shield so my gift didn’t overwhelm me.”

Will. “Will, huh?”

“Yes.” She combed a hand through his hair. “You don’t like him.”

“Does anybody?” Michael asked, his lip curling.

“I do.” She grinned at him and shrugged. “He really isn’t that bad. I owe him, you know. Not just for my life. He didn’t just keep me from dying…he kept me from hiding away.”

Something about her voice, something about the look in her eyes hit him and he became aware of a strange, sinking sensation. Will.

Fuck. Ren. Will. He’d known there would be other men in her life, but putting names to those faceless men made it much harder to handle. But he’d have to handle it. Have to deal with it.

His voice tight, he said, “You were lovers.”

She met his eyes levelly. “Yes.” She reached down and caught his wrist, lifting his hand so that his clenched fist was between them. Pressing a kiss to his knuckles, she murmured, “I don’t have to ask if that bothers you. I can already tell. I can live with that because the thought of your past lovers, whoever they may be, is enough to drive me mad. But can you live with it?”

“What choice do I have?” Michael grimaced. Consciously, he made his muscles relax. “I’m not going to let you go because of whatever men you have been with in the past. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or him.”

A sympathetic smile curled her lips. Gently, she kissed him. “No. You don’t have to like it. You don’t have to like him. But he is a friend of mine and I don’t plan on letting that change.” She stroked his shoulders. “He was the first lover I’d had after that night. And it took a couple of years. I was getting worse, instead of better. If he hadn’t… Well, if we hadn’t become lovers, I would have gotten much worse. I think eventually, I would have given up. I would’ve let go of my wings and would’ve waited for old age to kill me. I’m here because of Will.”

“Shit.” Michael blew out a breath and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Resting his head between her breasts, he murmured, “Then I can be thankful to him, but it still doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She pressed her lips to his. “Michael?”

“Hmmm?”

“Make love to me.”

He cradled her face in his hands and whispered, “Now that idea, I like.”

He took her mouth with slow, soft kisses, stroking his hands over her back, her sides. He eased down onto the bed, then rolled to his side, tucking her body close to his. He watched her face as he touched her, searching for any sign of fear or uncertainty.

There was nothing but warmth and passion in her kiss, nothing but love shining in her eyes.

But when he went to tuck her body under his, she pressed her hands to his chest and whispered, “Not that way.”

He thought she’d want to be on top, but when he lifted his weight from her, she rolled to her hands and knees. Michael came up behind her, gripping her hips in his hands. She straightened, reaching up and back, wrapping her arms around his head. He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. She sighed and rocked back, her warm, soft ass brushing against his cock.

Michael shuddered but eased his lower body away.

She reached down between them, stroked his cock. “Make love to me.”

“Lean forward,” he said hoarsely.

She did slightly, bracing her weight on one hand. With the other, she gripped his cock, nestling it between the cheeks of her rump. “There, Michael. I want you there.”

“No.”

She rubbed against him, moving awkwardly. “Yes. You touched me there…that last day. I remember that, and it didn’t hurt. I know it doesn’t have to be painful and I’m tired of that pain being the source of a nightmare. Take it away, Michael.” She let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder and stared up at him. “I know you can.”

“Elle, the first few times a woman takes a man’s cock there, it can hurt. Hell, if a man isn’t careful, it can hurt no matter what. I won’t do that to you.”

Craning her head around, she pressed her mouth to his throat. “I want you to. And I trust you. You wouldn’t let it hurt.” She touched her tongue to his skin and murmured, “Besides, you want to. I can feel it. And it’s driving me crazy.”

Michael shuddered, his common sense waging a war with his desires. Yes, he wanted her like that. He wanted her in all ways. He wanted her back on her knees in front of him as he fucked her mouth with his dick and he wanted her tied face down to a bed while he tormented and teased that lovely body and drew her to a gasping, crying climax.

But he didn’t want to hurt her, scare her. Not ever. He swallowed the knot in his throat and pulled back. “No, Elle. You don’t really want this, darling girl. You know you don’t.”

“I don’t know that,” she said, staring at him. Her clear blue eyes remained steadily on his as she caught his hand and brought it to her face. She nuzzled his hand, cuddled it against her cheek. “What I do know is that I’m tired of what few mortal memories I have being clouded by the memory of pain. I’m tired of nightmares haunting me. I want to exorcise them from my mind…and this is how I want to do it.”

She gave him a winsome smile and swayed closer, pressing her lips to his chin. “Besides, you can consider it practice.”

“Practice?” It was a miracle he could speak at all. His mouth was dry, his throat tight. Everything inside him screamed for him to do just as she asked. He could make it good for her, he knew he could. He could bring her past the nerves, past the fear, past the pain. “Practice for what?”

“Well, you are supposed to be playing the besotted fool who’ll do anything to keep me happy.” She nipped his chin and reached down, closing her slender fingers around his shaft. “This is what I want…so play your part and indulge me.”

He slid a hand up her back, fisted it in her hair. “Elle, love, I never had to play any part, not when it came to being your besotted fool.” Cupping her chin, he angled her face up and slanted his mouth over hers. He kissed her, drunk on her taste, drunk on the feel of her.

Drunk on the knowledge that she still loved him. More, she trusted him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be asking for this. Not after what had happened to her.

She still loves me…after all I did to her, she still loves me.

He lifted his head and stared down at her. Stroking his thumb over the full curve of her lower lip, he said, “If you change your mind, tell me to stop…and I will.”

“I know you will.” She nipped his finger and then shifted on the bed again, bracing her weight on her hands and knees. Over her shoulder, she added, “But I’m not going to change my mind.”

She rocked against him and Michael hissed out a breath as her silken skin stroked over his cock. He ran his hand down her hip, staring at her heart-shaped ass. His dick jerked painfully, an insistent demand.

“I’ll need to see if I can find something,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

She glanced at him. “Find something…?” Then she blushed and settled back on her knees. “Ah, yeah. That might be a good idea.”

CHAPTER TEN

I stared at his naked back as he left the room and tried to still the racing of my heart.

My hands were damp, slick with fear.

I wanted this, but at the same time, I was terrified. The ghostly echo of a man’s laugher drifted through my mind and I wrapped my arms around my middle. He’d laughed. As he tore my clothes, pulled at my hair and twisted my breasts with cruel hands, he’d laughed. The stink of bad, cheap wine had fogged his breath and the smell of it had almost choked me. The shock of the initial penetration by his friend was nothing compared to the pain…

My teeth started to chatter and I clenched my jaw to stop it.

I blinked burning eyes and focused on the black silk of the sheets.

I wasn’t in a dirty, dark alley in Nice and I wasn’t helpless, trapped by men who were bigger, stronger than me. I knew how to fight and had fought my way out of tight spots more than once. I wasn’t trapped…and I was with Michael.

He wouldn’t hurt me.

Taking a deep breath, I relaxed. And just in time too. I heard Michael’s footsteps as he came back into the room and I looked up to smile at him. Then I saw what he held in his hand and I blushed. “You frequently travel around with lubricant in your luggage?” I asked. Making jokes to cover my nerves—it had become my specialty.

A smile curled his lips. “No. It was in the bathroom—still sealed in its box too. Apparently the owners of the cabin believe in meeting any and all possible needs of their tenants.”

He tossed the black box down on the bed next to him. I stared at it, pretending a strange fascination with the foil lettering as he settled down behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Second thoughts?”

I shook my head. “No.” Then I grimaced and admitted, “Well, yes. But then I had third thoughts, and fourth thoughts, and then I had the one thought that mattered more than anything else.”

“And what’s that?” he asked. He rested a hand on my belly, his fingers splayed.

I shivered. His hand was so close…so close. The tip of his finger was just a whisper away from the ache between my thighs.

“That I’m with you,” I said, laying my head against his shoulder and looking into his eyes. “That you wouldn’t hurt me.”

His mouth brushed against mine. “If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.” I couldn’t. I didn’t understand why, but I knew I had to do this. I’d had lovers since Michael. I hadn’t closed myself…although at first, I’d tried. But there was a part of me that hadn’t fully trusted the men I’d been with. I certainly hadn’t trusted any of them to do this. Other than Will, I hadn’t trusted them with the dark, terrible secrets of that night either. Not even Ren, and he wasn’t just a lover. He was one of my closest, dearest friends.

I needed this with Michael. I needed to trust…I needed to trust him. That was how we would heal the wounds that lingered between us. For him, and for me.

Pulling away, I settled on my hands and knees, then arched my back and smiled at him over my shoulder. He smoothed his hands over my bottom and then slid a hand around between my legs. I shivered as he stroked my clit, toyed with it, rubbing it with steady, firm pressure.

I felt the brush of his cock against my ass. Nerves danced inside. Trying to block them out, I pushed back against him. Michael rested a hand on my hip. “Slow down, darling girl. There’s no reason to rush it.”

Yes, there is. We need to do it before I freak…oh.

Heat jolted through me as he lightly tugged on my clit. He shifted around, guided my body upright so that I knelt between his thighs. I barely noticed. I couldn’t focus on anything but that wicked, wicked hand. He dipped his fingers inside me, drawing the moisture out, spreading it over my swollen clit. Over and over.

Distantly, I heard something rip but I didn’t know what it was.

I rocked against his hand, riding him. He whispered against my ear and the low, rough promises made me blush, had me shivering.

“I want to lay you down beneath me and spread your thighs, lick you right here and suck on your clit. When I do that, you make this little purr, did you know that?”

“Michael…” I gasped out his name and turned my face towards his. Blindly, I sought out his mouth, sucking his tongue into my mouth and biting him. He growled against my lips and I did it again, and again.

He scraped his nail over my clit and I arched, stiffened. Hurtling towards climax, I couldn’t do anything but ride it out…and that was when he touched me there.

His finger was slick, circling the tight entrance but not entering. Under the weight of pleasure, my shields crashed down and I was suddenly acutely aware of him—his hunger, his impatience tempered by his need to make this good for me.

Nothing is as erotic as knowing the one you want returns the feeling.

His hunger washed over me and instead of ending, my climax continued, drawing on, and on…lingering until I was panting and gasping and desperate.

When he touched the puckered entrance again, I blindly pushed against him, seeking some relief from the pressure inside me.

I cried out as he breeched the tight muscles. As he did that, he also pushed two fingers inside my sex and pressed down right…there…

I came again, screaming out his name.

Michael shuddered as she panted and shook in his arms, riding him. He had two fingers buried in her sleek pussy and one finger in her ass. She was tight, tight as a fist, silken soft and so hot. He hissed out a breath as his cock jerked, throbbed. It was pressed against her side and he felt one drop of pre-come slip free.

He twisted his hand and screwed his finger deeper inside her anal sheath. At the same time, he lowered his mental shields. She’d lowered her own just moments ago, he’d felt it, but he wouldn’t know what she thought unless he reached for her.

He wouldn’t know if he hurt her—

The tide of her need swamped him and he groaned out her name, dropping his head down and resting it on her shoulder. She filled him, flooded him—he couldn’t contain it and it spilled out into her. His need fed hers and her need fed his, a twisting, seductive spiral of desire.

Still, he lashed his hunger down—careful. Slow. He had to be careful. Slow.

“Michael, please…” she wailed. Her voice was full of something deeper than hunger, deeper than need. He had no word to describe it and the feel of it echoing through him was enough to drive him mad.

Pulling his hands away, he reached for one of her hands, pressed it between her thighs. “Touch yourself, and keep touching yourself,” he whispered.

She stared at him, her eyes fogged with hunger, drunk with need.

She was so fucking beautiful, he thought, dazed. Her breasts, round and plump, were topped with erect nipples. Her cheeks were flushed, her lower lip swollen. The curls between her thighs glistened with moisture.

“What?”

He covered her hand and pressed. “Play with yourself, Elle,” he said. He lowered his head and kissed her. “Play with that pretty little pussy for me.”

He watched as she slowly, hesitantly started to stroke herself, her slim, white fingers stroking over pink, glistening flesh.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He stared into her eyes, let her feel what it did to him just watching.

Then he slipped behind her.

Bracing one hand between her shoulders, he eased her down until the bed supported her upper body. Then he grabbed the bottle of lubricant. “Are you playing with that pretty pussy?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, light, even as the wild hunger burned inside him.

“Yes…” She rocked her hips and he shuddered. The sight of that, watching her ride her hand and stroke herself to climax—he could come just from that.

He slicked the lubricant over his cock. Closing his fist around his length, he stroked up, down, once, twice. His cock jerked, throbbed. In her—it wanted to be in her. Squeezing more lubricant into his hand, he moved closer. With one hand, he gripped her hip as he pressed his slicked fingers against the pucker of her ass.

She jerked under his touch and he stilled, waited.

But then she pressed back.

The connection between them was flooded with heat, longing. He felt the barest edge of nerves, but it was overshadowed by the hunger. Gripping his cock, he held it steady and pressed the head against her. She flinched.

Bending down, he pressed his lips to her shoulder. “I can stop…just say the word.”

Wordlessly, she shook her head.

He felt her frantic need, the fear. Scoring her shoulder with his teeth, he said, “Then relax for me, darling girl. I want to fuck your virgin ass so bad I hurt.”

The dirty talk did exactly what he’d hoped. She whimpered and pressed back. This time, when he pressed against her, she held still. Frozen—still as a statue. But tight, so tight, the muscles of her ass clenched down, resisting his entry. “Push down for me, Elle. Do it.”

She cried out. “I…I can’t…Michael, I think it’s going to…” Her voice wobbled and faded away.

“Do you want this?” he rasped, lodged with just the barest inch of his cock inside that silken sheath.

“Yes, but…”

He slapped her ass with the flat of his hand and ordered, “Push down.”

She did, wailing out his name, and he slipped another two inches in. She was shivering, shaking. He retreated, just a bit, and then he surged forward. “Again, darling girl. Do it again.”

She did and this time, he sank half his cock inside her. She tensed up again and he reached out, seeking out her clit. “You’re supposed to be playing with yourself,” he teased. “Come on, darling girl. I want to think about you fucking yourself with your fingers while I fuck your ass.”

“Pervert,” she gasped out and then her hand came up, nudging his aside.

He held her hips with both hands now, steadying her as he pulled out, then surged forward. This time she pushed down without any encouragement, and he groaned as he sank his entire length inside her.

Elle whimpered, her body trembling, shivering.

“Have I hurt you?” he whispered, eyeing the faint red mark of his hand on her ass.

“No…yes, hmmm… I don’t know, I can’t explain…”

He stroked out, stroked in and trailed his fingers over the imprint of his hand. “I spanked you.”

She shoved her hips back and whispered, “Yes…do it again.”

He grinned and brought the flat of his hand down on her rump.

She mewled in her throat and straightened her upper body, bracing her weight on her hands—then she pushed back, taking his dick inside her. Riding it. The muscles in her ass convulsed around him, gripping him, milking him.

“You’re going to kill me,” he rasped.

“Spank me again.” She flexed around him as she took him back inside.

Michael spanked her, watching as he brought a blush to the pale, perfect flesh of her bottom. Watching as she slowly moved back and forth on his dick, he held still, letting her control it. The sight of it, watching as she took one slick inch of his cock after another, had his balls drawing tight against him in warning.

She was close too—he could feel it. But not close enough. He crowded against her and slid a hand around, dipped it between her thighs. He hooked two fingers inside her pussy and pressed down on the little bed of nerves buried there.

She stiffened…and then she went crazy, moving back and forth on him, harder, faster.

“It’s not enough,” she whimpered.

Michael growled and took her hips in his hands. Desperate desire bloomed between them, flaring in them both. Snarling, he began to drive into her, using the strength of his lower back and legs.

She came with a sob. He felt the rush of heated moisture from her just as a warning tingle raced down his spine.

Fire tore through his balls and he bellowed out her name as he came.

And as he pumped his seed into her, the skin on his body went tight.

Something…

Something in the air…

Hunger.

I swallowed and tried to hear something beyond the roaring in my ears, the beating of my heart. Michael slumped against me and wrapped an arm around my waist, easing me down to the bed. I winced as he pulled out, suddenly aware that I was sore.

But there wasn’t time for that—I felt something. “Michael…”

“Shhhh…” He grabbed a sheet and flipped it up over us, hiding us from the neck down.

I hissed out a breath, aware that he hadn’t said anything. Out loud. In my head. In my fucking head.

“Don’t say anything,” he warned me.

“Why the hell not?” I wanted to ask. I also wanted to ask him to get out of my head. Then I wanted to shower, clean up…and then pounce on him. Maybe. I might sleep first.

But…

Oh, shit. Oh, hell.

Now I felt it more clearly. I shivered and pressed back against him. Strong arms came around me, held me tight, secure.

“Can you hear me?” I thought, pushing my thoughts towards him.

“Yes.”

“We’re not alone, are we?”

“No.” A tense silence passed as we both lay there, pretending to bask in the aftermath.

I wasn’t basking though. I was pissed. Mostly, I was pissed because I wanted to be basking.

Not lying there while a voyeuristic demon played Peeping Tom.

“It’s the queen,” I thought.

“I know. None of the others are strong enough to reach this far. I don’t think they would have even sensed us—we’re too far away.”

It was just her presence—her incorporeal self. If demons had souls, I’d say it was her soul, but demons lack anything resembling a soul.

It was her essence, the closest thing to a soul a demon had…and she was hungry, hungry for more of the feast we’d just given her.

I could feel her vibrating, all but orgasmic over the energy she’d sucked up from us.

It hadn’t done us any harm. She would have to come inside us to harm us, but still, it pissed me off. Fucking parasite.

I started to push away from him, but Michael didn’t let me go.

“Be still,” he warned me. “If you get out of the bed, she’s going to see us.”

“We just gave her the fucking show, what does it matter if she sees us?”

He reached up and tugged on the pendant resting between my breasts. This… She’s been off to the side, watching us. She’s not corporeal, but she can see us—but only from whatever angle she’s watching us from. She hasn’t seen these. She might not know what we are.”

Light dawned. Slowly, I relaxed my muscles. “Good point.” As pissed off as I was, I knew the advantage of surprise could work for us. Especially now.

She’d gotten a taste of us.

And apparently it had been intriguing enough that it had drawn her to us across the miles that separated us.

She’d want more.

She’d want to seek us out.

Then…we could kill her.

She had taken over her host completely—her life force was bonded to the human’s now. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be this strong. So when the human body died—she’d die.

Regret washed through me. We’d have to kill people tonight. At least one person.

Michael kissed my shoulder. “That person is already gone, darling girl. There’s nothing we could have done anyway.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I got ready for the night.

After sleeping the day away with Michael, I felt as ready for this as I was going to be. Which was pretty damn ready. I wanted it over and done so I could concentrate on Michael.

I smirked at my image and murmured, “Cinderella, you’re going to the ball.”

Of course, if my stepmother could see me in this get-up, she’d probably die of a heart attack.

It was blue. Soft, pale blue, nearly the same shade as my eyes. With all the red and black and purple inside that joint, I’d stand out, which was the point. We wanted to be noticed after all.

It was short. Short as in nonexistent. The skirt was nothing but swaths of lace that barely covered my butt and when I bent over or moved in the wrong way, those around me would get a flash of the blue thong I had on underneath. The bodice was similar to a corset, lacing up in the back, cinching my waist and putting my boobs on display. Tiny little crystals covered the material, catching and reflecting the light.

I scooped up my hair, but that had nothing to do with looks and everything to do with practically. If I was going to be in a fight, and it was very likely, I’d rather my hair not be flying all over the place—makes it too easy to grab. Pulled back into a chignon, it was out of my face and out of my way. Plus, it worked well with the dress.

The shoes were, of course, Cinderella shoes, completely clear, both the upper and the heel. More sparkles covered the upper, and as I studied my feet I decided I should have gotten a pedicure, but nothing I could do about it now. The best part about the shoes was that I could kick them off in just a few seconds. I really hate fighting while wearing a pair of heels.

Other than the long chain holding my medallion and some sparkling platinum earrings that dangled from my ears, I wore no jewelry. The earrings were clip-on and the chain was tucked down inside my bodice so nobody could grab it that easily.

Yes, I was going to the ball and I was prepared to kick ass. Literally.

I was still so furious that demon bitch had been spying on us. I can’t explain how enraged that made me, nor could I understand it. That was what those kinds of demons did—they thrived on sexual energy and we’d been giving off plenty of it. I should have expected this.

But I was still pissed.

The door behind me opened and I turned to see Michael standing there with a stupefied look on his face. His throat worked as he swallowed and I gave him a cheeky smile as I turned in a circle with my arms held out.

“How do I look?”

“Delicious.” He looked me over, his eyes lingering on the tight, low cut of my bodice, the nearly-not-there skirt and down to my pretty little shoes. I lifted a foot and wiggled it.

“Cute, huh?”

A smile curled his lips.

“They don’t look like they’ll be fun to fight in, if it comes to that.”

I shrugged. “I’ll kick them off. That’s the plan anyway. Whoever designed heels never took into consideration how awkward they’d be to fight in.”

Michael sauntered closer and caught my hand. I bit my lip as he bent over and kissed it. Running my fingers through his hair, I said, “Careful…your charming streak is showing through.”

He nipped my knuckles and then lifted his eyes to mine. “Careful…your mischievous streak is showing through.”

“Well, I never tried to hide that.” I smiled and then turned once more to study my reflection.

Michael rested his hands on my shoulders and his eyes met mine in the mirror.

“If things go well we could be done with this tonight,” I said softly.

“Yes.”

Reaching up, I wrapped my fingers around his wrists. “Then what do we do?”

He nuzzled my neck. “I was thinking we could get married.” His voice was a soft, rough whisper in my ear and for a moment, I was too caught up in a shiver to understand his words.

“Married…” I turned around and looked up at him. He wasn’t smiling. He looked dead serious.

My heart skipped in my chest and I licked my lips. “Married?”

“Yes.” He cupped my face in his hands, pressed a kiss to my brow. “It’s what I should have done three hundred years ago. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Then…and now.”

After brushing a kiss across my mouth, he whispered, “How about it, Cinderella? You want to marry a not-so-charming ex-prince?”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. He boosted me up in his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pressed my brow to his. “A not-so-charming ex-prince?” I teased. “Who would that be?”

He swatted my rump. “Don’t tease about this, Elle. Whether the answer is yes or no or that you need time, just give me an answer.”

I smiled against his mouth. “Oh, we’ve had plenty of time, I think. And I’d love to marry you… You’re my prince, and you always have been.”

“Elle…my darling girl,” he muttered as he kissed me. “I love you so much, I hurt with it.”

I knew the feeling. As he pushed his tongue into my mouth, I groaned. Then I nipped at him, delighted when he shuddered. I could make him shake. It would never cease to amaze me. This man, this strong, arrogant man, I could make him shake.

He tugged on my thong and I shivered as it pressed against the sensitive flesh between my thighs. He skimmed his lips down my neck and I arched back, my breath catching as I pressed against the swollen ridge of his cock. I wanted him.

Here. Right here.

Now. Right now.

Reaching down between us, I fumbled with the button on his trousers. It gave way, but just as I started to drag down his zipper, there was a loud knock at the door.

Scowling, I glanced towards the living room.

“Who in the world could that be?”

Ren.

I was at Michael’s side when he opened the door and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as the other man’s gaze moved between us.

His gaze lingered on Michael, cold with dislike. When he looked at me, a shutter fell and there was no expression on his face. I couldn’t see what he felt, but I could feel it and it was a stabbing pain in my chest.

I bit my lip. I’d hidden away from the fact that Ren thought he was in love with me. I hadn’t wanted to think about it, but now I had no choice.

It wasn’t just an illusion. What I felt inside him was real. Solid.

Perhaps if Michael hadn’t ever come back into my life, I might have even returned his feelings.

“Ren.”

Thick lashes lowered over his eyes, hiding them from me. When he looked back at me, he had a shield in place…over his features, over his emotions. I’d seen him use it often over the years.

But never had he used it with me. Never had he hidden from me.

“Lovely night, isn’t it, my lady?” he asked, giving me a cocky grin.

I stepped aside and Michael, after a brief hesitation, did the same, letting Ren saunter into the condo.

“What are you doing back here?” I asked. I realized I wanted to fidget and I linked my hands behind my back to keep from doing just that.

“Oh, was just in the area, you know. Figured I might help you two wrap up that pesky little…problem.” He waggled his brows at me. The jaunty smile on his face was firmly in place.

“I thought Will said he needed you elsewhere.”

Ren shrugged and leaned back against the bar. Holding his arms out, he said, “Well, that’s what he told me too, but then he sends me off to play errand boy. Lot of fun that was too. Great fun. Then he up and decides I’m supposed to come back here.” The mask on his face cracked, revealing just a sliver of real emotion to show through in his eyes. Only for a moment.

Bleakness. Pain. Loss.

Damn you, Will. Would you stop playing games? I thought darkly. No…he wasn’t cruel, but he did like to toy with people sometimes. I wasn’t blind to that.

Then Ren blinked. The mask fell back into place and when he looked at me again, he had a wide, easy grin on his face and a cagey look in his eyes as he looked me over from head to toe. “Poppet, I have to tell you, you look utterly biteable. It leaves me tempted to…”

Michael tensed. “If you want to live through the night, you’ll resist whatever fool notions are dancing through your head.”

“Oh, well now. If I resist all of them, I’m going to tear your chest open and rip out your heart,” Ren said. A mean smile curled his lips and intensity shown from his eyes. “Trust me, you don’t want me resisting all fool notions. The only thing keeping me from tearing into you is the knowledge that my lady wouldn’t like it. I’m resisting for her, and only her.”

“She’s not your lady,” Michael snarled.

Somehow, they’d managed to close the distance between them and now just inches separated them. Scowling, I pushed into those inches and shoved them apart. “Back off,” I warned. “Both of you.”

“Oh, come on, poppet. It could be fun.” Under my hand, Ren’s heart was racing and I could feel too much of the emotion he kept trapped inside.

Anger. Jealousy. Frustration.

“Besides, now that I think of it, why shouldn’t I tear into him?” he asked, but the question wasn’t directed at me. Or Michael. “After all, whether I like it or not, I’ve already lost you.”

Blowing out a breath, I shot Michael a look. Let me handle this.

I could tell by the narrowing of his eyes that he’d caught my unspoken message. He gave a tiny shake of his head.

“Please.”

Abruptly, he turned away, moving so fast it threw me off-balance.

Ren reached out and steadied me. I let him, leaning against his chest for just a moment. I didn’t want this. The last thing I’d wanted was to hurt him. I should have known…should have looked…should have realized. But if I’d done that, I would have pulled away and I’d needed him. Needed his friendship and his strength, needed the way he brought laughter back into my life.

“I’m sorry, Ren.”

He brushed my hair back from my face, watching me. There was a strange, cool detachment in his gaze as he murmured, “Are you? For what?”

“For hurting you. I…I never stopped loving him, Ren.”

“I can’t fault you for having lousy judgment, I suppose.”

I smiled faintly. “I never was yours. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t. I’ve always been his.”

“Even when he threw you away. You never told me, but I know awful things happened after that… Awful things that wouldn’t have happened if he’d cared for you as he should have.”

I sensed Michael behind me. Shooting him a look over my shoulder, I said, “Let me handle this.”

Then I took a deep breath and looked at Ren. “He didn’t throw me away, Ren. I ran away and whatever awful things happened, they aren’t on his head, but mine.”

“No.” He stroked a finger over my lip. “It’s his bloody fault.”

“It is not his—”

“Oh, the hell it isn’t.” It wasn’t Ren speaking though. It was Michael.

From the corner of my eye, I could see him approaching and I tensed, ready to jump between them again if I had to.

“You’re right about that—it is my fault, even if she wants to claim otherwise. But whatever happened to her, it doesn’t concern you. It’s between her and me.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, it bloody well does concern me.”

“Why?” Michael asked, his voice flat and cool. “If she loved you, then yes, it would concern you. But she doesn’t. Not the way you want her to love you. She never will.”

I felt Ren flinch. Then he looked away and a harsh sigh escaped him. “You’re right in that.”

He looked back at me then, lifting his hands to cup my face. I curled my fingers around his wrists, held still as he pressed a kiss to my brow. “I always knew somewhere. I just didn’t want to admit it. I don’t want to admit it now, but I can’t very well hide from it now that you’ve found him again, now can I?”

“I’m sorry, Ren.”

A smile crooked his lips. “I know. But maybe you shouldn’t be. I hate the bastard, but I’ve never seen you smile at anybody the way you smile at him.” He pressed his lips to mine and said, “Be happy for me, Elle. Be happy.”

That little heart-to-heart put a bit of a damper on the adrenaline rush and I was heavy-hearted as the three of us headed towards the car. Ren had come dressed to party, wearing black leather pants. He was shirtless under the jacket he wore, and his golden skin stretched over his muscles, smooth and perfect. He didn’t have his medallion on. I frowned, ready to ask about it but then he opened the door and I caught sight of the black leather band wrapped around his wrist. Something silver flashed from it and I recognized the medallion.

“Nice,” I murmured, tapping it with my index finger.

“Thank you.” He grimaced and met my gaze. “You’ve no idea how close I came to throwing it away a few days ago.”

Over me. He didn’t even have to say it. I already knew.

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

Michael was all in black. Black silk shirt, black trousers, black shoes. I hadn’t watched as he got dressed, but I imagined the underwear was black as well. He really did need some color in his wardrobe.

But then again, he looked damned nice in black, I decided.

Between the two of them, I probably looked rather small. I’d be underestimated.

That was good. I’d have to be. I’d need every advantage I could get if I wanted to get close to the queen without her alerting all of her drones. If we killed her quick and fast, I had hopes none of the others would be strong enough to linger without her. Maybe by killing the queen we could save more of the human hosts.

I hoped.

Ren wasn’t going to fit in the back seat of the little car.

Michael would have made him crawl back there, but I’d done it before it even came up. As uncomfortably cramped as it was for me, it would have been doubly so for Ren.

The drive passed in tense silence, and my adrenaline started to pump again as we drew closer. I wasn’t the only one either. By the time we hit the club’s parking lot, my skin was buzzing from the combined excitement and anticipation I felt from the other two.

I understand how some people become adrenaline junkies. I really do. It’s a heady rush having all that energy and excitement and anticipation crashing inside. It can make it hard to do the job until you learn to focus. I used the next minute to steady myself, curbing the anticipation.

Wouldn’t do to walk in there with the light of battle blazing and all. It could kind of ruin the element of surprise we had going for us.

They didn’t know.

They couldn’t.

I could feel the dark, negative hunger of the queen and her drones from out here. If she had figured out who we were she would have blown out of town. It was a good sign that she was still here.

Ren was out with his door open before Michael got around the car. Seeing the glint in my friend’s eye, I almost ignored the hand he held out. But if I did that, I was going to lose some dignity if I had to scramble out of the car in this get-up without a hand. Or I could wait for Michael and watch them have a chest-beating session.

I decided to just get it over with and accepted Ren’s hand. A grin curled his lips and he murmured, “Nice panties, Elle.”

Rolling my eyes, I smoothed my dress down. “It’s not like you haven’t seen that view before.”

“But it’s a view that never loses its beauty.”

Behind me, I heard Michael swear under his breath.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. Baring my teeth at Ren, I jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “You’re going to piss me off if you keep it up, Thomas.”

Ren’s brows drew low over his eyes. He caught my wrist and said, “Don’t call me Thomas.”

“Don’t piss me off,” I fired back at him. “You don’t want me pissed off right now, right? After all, we’re going in to deal with demons. Seems it would be best if I’m concentrating, yes?”

He scowled. But he fell silent.

Spinning around, I glared at Michael. “He’s a friend of mine. You’re going to have to deal with that, because I’m not giving up a friendship.”

“I can deal with it just fine. But if he makes another remark about your panties, I’m going to beat him into the dirt.”

“Fine.” I huffed out a breath. “Just do it after we’re done here, okay?”

I really wanted this job over with. Over and done.

It hadn’t been the hardest assignment of my life, but it was definitely one of the more draining.

Emotionally draining.

I took a deep breath and smoothed my dress down one more time. Then I turned and faced the club. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Both men offered their arm. I accepted both.

After all, it would look damn weird if I went in there with Ren trailing at our heels. He wasn’t one to take the backseat and that fact was apparent. All you had to do was look at him.

If we wanted this to work without raising suspicion we needed to look together.

All it would take was the wrong individual noticing us and the element of surprise would be out the window.

And besides, somewhere inside, some part of me thought it was wicked fun to saunter inside that club with those two men. Michael with his elegant beauty and Ren with his hard, harsh male sensuality. It’s the stuff fantasies are made of. And for now, until we caught the attention of the queen, I might as well enjoy it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

She was a witch.

Michael had no doubt of it.

A couple hundred years ago she would have been burned at the stake simply for being so completely breathtaking.

More than a few women were sending Elle dark, ugly looks. She didn’t seem to notice and if she did, she didn’t care. As she swayed between him and Ren, she had her eyes half-closed. A small smile curled her lips. She had one hand resting on Ren’s hip and the other was curled up and back, wrapped around Michael’s neck.

Ren was pressed close to her, too fucking close for Michael’s peace of mind. He could hear the hum of the other man’s thoughts, something that wouldn’t happen if there was a bit more distance between them, or some shielding. But Michael wasn’t shielding against anything right now. In this moment, he wanted every extra advantage he could get and his gift could certainly provide that.

But he did wish the cocky bastard would back off a bit.

Elle danced between the two of them, her sleek, soft curves rubbing against them both, and Michael felt like the top of his head would come off when she turned her head to his neck and kissed him.

A minute later, Ren cupped the back of her neck and slanted his mouth over hers. Michael gritted his teeth, gripped her hips and pretended not to give a good damn.

He kept sane by focusing on her, on the club, on the feel of the demons around them.

One of the humans dancing a few feet away was touched. A light taint, but still there. If they succeeded in their plan, the man would be free.

If.

There was another demon off to the side of the dance floor, one that had been watching the three of them for the past few minutes. Michael watched him from the corner of his eye. As they shifted their bodies, he dipped his head, raking his teeth down Elle’s neck. He nuzzled her ear and whispered, “We’ve got somebody watching us.”

She rested her head against him and mouthed, “The queen?”

He shook his head. He had a bad feeling they were going to need to put on a bit of a show to catch the queen’s attention. Last night had likely been a bit of a fluke. She’d recognize them once she saw them, but in this mess of writhing bodies and sexual energy, she wasn’t going to be able to pick them out easily.

So they needed to do something to stand out more.

He stared down at Elle. She looked lost, lost in the rhythm of the music, lost in the heat of the moment.

Michael knew otherwise.

She was most certainly enjoying herself. He could sense it.

But she was also watching. Waiting.

Just as he was. Just as Ren was.

He had to admit, the man was certainly a professional. He might be taking every single opportunity to touch and kiss Elle, but he was also keeping an eagle eye on the scene without appearing to.

Catching Ren’s gaze, Michael focused his thoughts, reaching out to both of them at once. Ren stiffened minutely when Michael spoke into his mind, but he said nothing.

“We’re not going to catch her attention out here, not unless it’s by pure chance.”

Ren’s thoughts weren’t clearly formed—halting and slow, but Michael understood. “Can’t leave this to chance. Need the job done.”

“Agreed.” Elle turned in his arms and slipped a hand into his hair, stroking his head. “Suggestions?”

Oh, he had one.

He didn’t like it.

Ren did though. Michael didn’t even have to say a damn thing either. The other man had already figured it out.

Why in the hell had Will decided to send this bastard back here? And now?

It was for one of two reasons. Either Ren would be needed. Or Will just wanted to torment Michael.

It was a fifty-fifty toss-up between the two.

Wrapping an arm around Elle’s waist, he guided her from the dance floor. Ren walked at her other side, his arm around her shoulders, the tips of his fingers brushing against the bare mound of her breast. The bodice molded to her curves, lifted her breasts up and out. The sight of Ren’s hand on her had Michael clenching his jaw to keep from swearing.

They found one open private room at the very back and he felt Elle stiffen as they pushed inside.

Cupping her neck in his hand, he kissed her gently. “Are you up to this?”

She smiled against his lips. “Yes. I’m just not much for putting on a show.”

“I doubt we’ll have to do much. I think she watches from the cameras. And she’s not going to want to just watch, I suspect.”

Elle licked his lower lip. “No. I don’t think so either. She feels too hungry.”

Ren came up to stand behind her, resting his hands on her hips. He nuzzled her neck and murmured, “Am I in on this party or what?”

Michael bared his teeth at him. He was more of a mind to take the or-what option. But when Elle reached down and closed her hands around Ren’s wrists, Michael didn’t stop her.

As Ren cupped her breasts, Michael went to his knees in front of her, pressing his mouth to her belly. Through the satin, he could feel her warmth. He stroked his hands down her hips. The lace of her short skirt was no barrier and in seconds, he had her bare ass in his hands. He was tempted to hook his fingers in her thong and drag it down, but he needed the barrier.

Not that it was much of a barrier. When he pressed his mouth against her sex, he could feel the damp heat there and it was entirely too simple to tug the material aside. He nuzzled her and she bucked against him, her hands coming down to rest on his shoulders.

Distantly, he could hear the faint hum of the camera. Out in the hall, he heard the music, heard the voices. Felt the life.

But there wasn’t anything demonic. Not yet.

Lifting his head, he stared into Elle’s eyes. She gave him a wicked grin and trailed her fingers down her midsection. “Stop worrying…I’m fine,” she thought.

“I’m not.” He didn’t know what was going to do him in first, the possessive anger that wanted to tear Ren apart for touching her, or the hot, vicious hunger pounding inside him.

Gripping the bottom of her bodice, he tugged it slowly down, watched as the pink of her nipples became visible over the pale blue satin. Her cheeks went red and she closed her eyes. Ren cupped one breast, tweaking her nipple. Coming to his feet, Michael caught the other nipple in his mouth and bit her lightly.

She arched against him and, when he reached a hand between them and cupped her sex, he could feel the heat. Scalding him. Tension mounted in her body and even though he could feel her nerves, feel her hesitation, he could also feel her arousal.

She tried to hide it. He sensed it and inexplicably, it eased the punch of anger.

No, he wasn’t overly thrilled that another man had his hands all over her. But it wasn’t going to destroy him. It did nothing to change how she felt about him…or how he felt about her.

A fantasy, he told himself.

Right now they were acting out bit parts for their unwanted audience. All they needed to do was play those parts, and sooner or later their audience would take the bait.

But for now, they might as well enjoy it.

He rubbed the tip of his finger against her clit and muttered against her mouth, “It’s just a fantasy, darling girl. You might as well enjoy it. We might as well.”

She swallowed, staring into his eyes. “Michael?”

Smiling down at her, he eased back and then turned her around so that she faced Ren. He almost unlaced the bodice, but he doubted Elle would want to be any closer to naked than she had to be when the queen showed up. Besides, she looked unbelievably luscious with her nipples peeking over the edge of the bodice, her mouth pink and swollen.

Ren stared at Michael, his eyes narrowed.

Michael could see the suspicion there and he smirked. “You’ve only got the night. I suggest you make the most of it.”

Holy shit.

I had next to no warning about what was coming.

My head was still spinning from what Michael had whispered to me and I was still trying to figure out just what he had in mind.

And then Ren was on his knees in front of me, tugging my thong aside. He pressed his mouth against my pussy, licking me. He curled his tongue around my clit, teased it relentlessly, and at the same time he pushed two fingers inside me.

I came with a harsh cry and would have fallen if Michael hadn’t been behind me. I cried out but it was muffled because Michael was kissing me, his tongue stroking deep, deep inside my mouth, the same way Ren was stroking me deep, deep inside with knowing, clever fingers.

How far do you plan on letting this go? I wondered half-desperately as Ren began to kiss a burning trail up over my torso.

As he slanted his mouth over mine, I was acutely aware of the taste of myself on his mouth, and acutely aware of Michael, a still, silent presence at my back. Turning away from Ren, I looked at Michael and focused that question towards him.

“How far?”

He gave me a gentle smile as he cupped my face. “That’s your call, darling girl. It’s your fantasy…just enjoy it…while we can.”

That could be a few seconds. It could be a few hours.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Behind me, Ren cuddled his cock against my ass. It didn’t send me into a panic attack and he curled his arms around me. I leaned against him, staring at Michael’s face.

A fantasy.

What had he said to Ren?

You’ve only got the night. Make the most of it.

Hell, I could do that.

Smiling at Michael, I angled my head towards the futon-styled bed in the middle of the room. “Go sit down,” I said softly.

He cocked a brow at me.

I lifted my chin. He was going to change his mind…only, he didn’t.

I watched as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Nobody else would see it, but I did—the wariness in his eyes. Holding his gaze, I walked over there, putting an extra sway in my hips. I curled my fingers around Ren’s wrist, bringing him with me. As I sank down in front of Michael, Ren did the same, going to his knees behind me.

I unzipped Michael’s trousers, held his gaze as I freed him from the close-fitting black boxer briefs he wore. Then I dipped my head and licked the head of his cock.

As I did so, I pressed my bottom back against Ren.

He gripped my hips so tightly I suspected there would be bruises.

“Elle?” he whispered hoarsely.

I took my time before I lifted my head, pausing long enough to circle the head of Michael’s cock with my tongue before I looked back at Ren. He stared at me, uncertainty in his eyes. Uncertainty. Hunger. Straightening, I wrapped one arm around his neck and said, “It’s just a fantasy, Ren. You can enjoy it…for tonight…if you want to.”

“If I want you,” he muttered. “Fuck, I’ll always want you. But are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this.” That much was true.

“And will you regret it in the morning?”

As I pondered the answer to that, I stared at Michael. The only way I’d regret it would be if it caused problems with the two of us. And, as he smiled down at me, I had my answer there.

It wouldn’t.

He loved me.

I loved him. It was a love that had withstood three hundred years of separation. A night of fantasy wasn’t going to derail that.

I looked at Ren over my shoulder. “No…I won’t. But, Ren, it’s just tonight. Only tonight.”

“Then we’ll make the most of it,” he muttered.

As I bent over Michael, Ren bent over me. I could feel his lips brushing the bare skin exposed by the lacing of bodice. As I took Michael in my mouth, Ren rocked his hips against my butt. The skirt wasn’t long enough to cover me and the thong wasn’t exactly designed for modesty. With the bodice tugged down to expose my nipples and my lower half all but bare, I might as well have been naked between the two men. Michael was still dressed—mostly. And Ren was still wearing those close-fitting sexy leather pants.

It made it seem even more naughty to be here like this.

I sucked Michael deep, deep inside, taking him so deep, my throat felt bruised. Then I lifted my head and teased him with the tip of my tongue. He fisted a hand in my hair lightly, easily.

I could feel his worry. It hovered just below the surface and I knew why he worried.

But he didn’t need to worry. I shuddered as he guided my head back down, hoping he could feel what it did to me.

I was so hot, so hungry, I hurt.

I heard the loud rasp of Ren’s zipper and I shifted, spread my thighs. His breath hissed out between his teeth and then I was the one laboring for breath as he pressed the head of his cock against me. I was wet, aching. Empty.

He pushed inside me and I cried out around Michael’s cock. The hand on my head eased but I didn’t pull away.

Harder. Faster.

Desperate need flooded me and it didn’t take long for it to overtake the men as well, especially since my shields were fracturing and I couldn’t keep anything contained. Ren rode me hard, pushing me to a brutal, quick climax and Michael’s hands gripped my head, holding me steady as he fucked my mouth.

Another climax rose up, threatening to swamp me, but I didn’t want to go alone. Not this time. I growled around Michael’s thick cock when he tried to tug my head back up, taking him deeper than I had before, swallowing.

He shouted out my name.

At the same time, I clenched down around Ren, milking him with my inner muscles.

He grunted and swore. Slipping his hand around, he stroked my clit, using firm, quick circles.

He did it again.

I took Michael deep, swallowed. The need for air burned inside my lungs, but the need for him—for this, all of this—was greater, and even though black dots swarmed in my vision, I lifted only enough to take one breath and then I took him deep again.

All the while, I milked Ren’s pulsating, hard length with the inner muscles of my pussy.

He came first, and the feel of his climax had me hurtling faster towards mine. As I came, it pushed Michael closer to his.

One triggered the other, and when it was finally over the three of us were left gasping for breath. I was on my knees with my head in Michael’s lap and Ren was slumped against me, his heart racing so hard I could feel the echo of it inside me.

Or was that my heart?

I didn’t know.

Michael stroked a hand down my hair and muttered, “If I were prone to such things, I think I could have just had a heart attack.”

“I think I might be having one now,” Ren rasped.

I couldn’t say anything.

But I was smiling. Turning my head towards Michael, I pressed a kiss to his belly.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

I lifted my head and met his eyes. I couldn’t speak. My throat was sore, and although it was fading with every second, I didn’t see the point in trying to talk yet.

Instead, I just grinned at him.

Yeah, I was okay.

Hell, I was more than okay.

If any ghost of fear had lingered inside me before this, I think it was safe to say I had killed it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It’s a good thing we have a quick recovery time.

It had barely been three minutes when Michael felt her.

He sensed her presence first and the second he sensed her, I knew.

It was a cold splash of water in my face and I came to my feet, smoothing my dress down to cover myself, as much as possible anyway. I tugged the bodice back into place and met Michael’s eyes.

I was nervous, I realized.

We needed this over fast, and the only way to make it very fast was to either kill her the second she stepped inside the room, or immobilize her—entirely. Could Michael use mind control on a demon as strong as this one? Queens were very strong. They had to be if they wanted to keep their drones in line.

Ren’s gift wasn’t going to be as much use in here—attracted too much attention. But his fighting skills would certainly prove handy. A down-and-dirty street fighter was always a good ally to have at your back.

I felt her outside the door now, felt her wary hunger and her caution.

She expected to feel something…else.

Our quick recovery period wasn’t proving a good thing just then either. We lost some of the element of surprise as the queen swiped her keycard and opened the door.

She’d thought she’d find us still heady and dazed from the aftermath and there I was, standing up and dressed—mostly. Ren was still sprawled on the floor, but the lazy pose didn’t fool me.

The door opened more and her gaze swept over us, and I decided she wasn’t fooled.

Her gaze lingered on Ren, then moved to Michael, glancing over me entirely.

Idiot.

She slipped inside like she owned the fucking place, Michael noted.

He casually adjusted his clothes, making sure his medallion was still out of sight under his shirt before he met her gaze. “I thought these rooms were private.”

She smiled at him.

A blast of heavy, heady sensuality struck him. His body reacted as expected, his heart kicking up a few beats and his cock surging to full erectness.

A strong succubus was a living, breathing pheromone. They could exude sex appeal whenever they chose and Michael wasn’t immune to it any more than any other soul would be. Even Elle was affected—he sensed her reaction, felt her recoil inside even as she stared at the succubus.

“Who in the hell are you? What are you doing in here?” Elle demanded. The stress and shock in her voice sounded real, felt real.

“You’ve got nice toys, honey. I just wanted to play too.”

Elle wrapped her arms around her middle. “I don’t think so.”

The door shut at the queen’s back and she leaned against it, still smiling. “Oh, sweet baby girl. You don’t have a choice.” She touched her tongue to her lips and murmured, “Now where do I start? With you? With one of them?”

Her eyes landed on Ren and he came to his feet. The smile on that man’s face was diabolical, and if Michael hadn’t had faith in his kind he might have gotten very nervous just then.

“Oh, start with me…pretty please,” Ren purred. He stalked towards her and, as she pushed away from the door, he circled around her, passing close enough that their bodies touched.

He stopped behind her. She swayed towards him and he brought up his hands and rested them on her shoulders.

Bad mistake.

Michael realized it the same moment the queen did.

Her gaze landed on Ren’s leather cuff…on the silver medallion set inside it.

Her eyes, large and dark, widened and an inhuman shriek escaped her.

Ren moved, wrapping a strong arm around her neck and jerking tight, silencing her in mid-scream.

But it was too late.

She’d already alerted her drones.

Mere seconds passed before a furious pounding began at the door. It shuddered in its frame. The queen struggled against Ren, driving an elbow into his gut, raking her nails across his bare arms. With an impassive face, Ren tightened his hold and wrenched her neck.

There was a crack as her neck snapped, severing her spinal cord.

Her eyes went lifeless and the human body died.

But the queen didn’t.

Michael couldn’t see it, but he felt it. The ripple of her energy spreading through the room, seeking out a body.

She couldn’t take one of them and she had no time to seduce another human into taking her inside.

Maybe—

I swallowed and whispered, “Too late.”

She’d already taken a host and she did it by snuffing the life out of one of her drones.

“Open the door,” I said, kicking out of my shoes. We were going to have to fight.

The queen’s new body wouldn’t be accustomed to her presence yet and she’d force the host to flee. We had to get her before she ran, and that meant fighting through the rest of her drones.

Ren shot me a narrow look. “Open the door?”

He dropped her lifeless body and stepped over it, staring at me with skeptical eyes.

“She took another body—one of her drones.” I flexed my hands and wished I could have gotten my hands on a weapon. “We have to get her before she gets away.”

The fighting at the door had fallen silent and I rushed into the hall, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor. Off to my left, I could feel their presence, withdrawing, faster and faster. Not wasting any time.

Ren and Michael drew even with me and I swore as we followed the demons and the possessed out into the back parking lot. Not exactly the privacy we’d prefer.

But there was nothing to be done for it.

This queen had already proven to be damn strong and resourceful. Keeping enough of her drones in a weakened state so she could readily seize a body when the need arose. Surrounding herself with enough of them to provide her with protection.

And humans. So many humans. We’d try to avoid hurting the mortals and the queen knew that.

Bitch.

I was fast, but both Ren and Michael were taller, their legs longer. And they had the added benefit of shoes. Fast healer or not, running in bare feet on pavement is going to slow a girl down.

By the time I caught up with them, they’d already killed two hosts. Michael had two more under his control. Judging by how easily he held them, they weren’t so far gone we wouldn’t be able to save them. If we could kill the queen.

Ahead, I heard furious hisses, barks and growls coming from an alley. As I ran past it, I glanced inside, not in the least bit surprised to see Ren.

He was surrounded by dogs and cats, some of them strays, others looking rather well-kept. Birds flew over his head, everything from sparrows and starlings to owls and hawks.

Just before I moved out of sight, I had a glimpse of an owl and a hawk making a dive-bomb for one of the human hosts.

I heard a strangled scream come from the alley.

I could see three remaining demons ahead. Stronger drones…and the queen.

Or maybe she was a king now? She had the body of a young male and his movements were jerky enough that I knew he was still fighting her presence. Dear God. The poor kid.

One of her drones spun to face me and I launched myself upward, driving into him with a sidekick that sent him crashing back into the brick wall. He hit it so hard, I heard bone crack, but it didn’t slow him down. It would—once his human body processed the injury, but right now the drone was in control.

He shoved upright and swung out with a wicked right hook. I ducked, felt it pass just over my head. Shifting to the side, I drove my left fist into the unprotected, vulnerable area just under his right arm. Ribs cracked.

His next punch was off-balance and, when he went for a third strike, he ended up tripping over his feet. He was dead before he hit the pavement. Whether it was from the heart strike I’d delivered to his body, or the head injury, I didn’t know.

I felt the barest whisper of a human’s soul pass over me, overshadowed by the demon’s presence. The drone fought and hissed—no human ears would have heard it. Of course, there were no bodies around either. Except mine, Ren’s and Michael’s and it couldn’t touch us.

It didn’t keep him from trying. I felt the force of his essence slam into me and I staggered even as I laughed at him. “You’re pounding against a locked door, you fool. You can’t come inside me without an invitation and you won’t get it.”

I heard Michael behind me and I glanced at him. He was alone. I didn’t know where he’d left the possessed humans he had been dealing with, but I was damn glad to see him alone. In another few seconds, the demon’s essence lost the struggle for survival and he faded, either dead or sucked back into the netherplains. It would depend on how much of his strength he’d invested in his host. If he’d invested a lot, then he’d died—his life force would have been tied to his host and unless he was as strong as a queen, he wouldn’t be strong enough to survive it.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t.

We didn’t need another strong-ass, sex-starved demon emerging anywhere near here. Not right now. We were going to have to get the hell out of town after tonight. If we hadn’t already caught the wrong attention, it was coming and we couldn’t be here.

“The queen.”

I jerked my head in the direction I’d seen them running.

Ren came jogging up and the three of us took off down the street. We must have made one hell of a sight, Michael still looking perfectly presentable, me in my little harlot’s dress and barefoot, my hair falling down from the chignon, and Ren, shirtless and splattered with blood, all his animals trailing along behind us.

Michael scowled as a German shepherd nosed in between us.

“Where did the animals come from?” he asked.

“Ask Ren.”

Ren smirked. “I’m an animal lover, what can I say?”

Up ahead, I could make out the glitter of streetlights and I swore. Damn it, don’t let her go running out there. The back alleys were bad enough, but if she headed for the street…

I was so focused on that I almost missed the faint, lingering trail of her essence as we passed by a building. The side door was closed, but I stopped in mid-stride and stared at it.

“She’s gone in there,” I said softly.

“Then that’s where we’re going.”

It was a lush little luxury condo and, as we drew closer to the door, I caught sight of the little red light flashing. “Fuck. There’s an alarm system.”

Ren smiled and bent down, reached inside his boot. He withdrew a little leather pouch. “I’ll handle it.”

“There are cameras,” Michael said.

I cocked my head and listened, heard the faint hum of the electronics.

“I’ll deal with them.” Ren stroked a hand down my back and then looked at Michael. “Take care of her.”

Michael took my hand. “I will.”

I didn’t bother pointing out that I wasn’t exactly a damsel in distress.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

We found the queen upstairs. It was weird to look at her—she was most certainly a succubus. Her essence was clearly female, and even though the young man she’d possessed had rather strong, masculine features, with her lodged inside him there was a sinuous, sleek female sexuality hovering in the air around him.

“Grimm.”

I smiled. “You know, it wasn’t wise for you to stop. You should have just kept running and running…”

“Why? So you could call more of your brethren to join you? No. My best chance of survival is to kill the three of you. Then I’ll run.”

She stroked a hand down the back of her remaining drone, pouting. The expression sat strangely on the face of the male host—too strangely. “You killed my drones, Grimm. I’d worked a long time to find all of them and you took them from me. I’ll kill you for that…after I’m done.”

Michael said softly, “Are you so sure you can kill us?”

“I have no other option.” The queen smiled. “I’m not ready to return to the netherplains.”

“It’s not just the netherplains you fear.” I stared at her. “You put too much of your energy into your last host. It weakened you when she died. The body you have now, the host is fighting you. You don’t have the strength to survive if you lose to us.”

“The odds are not in your favor.”

The queen smiled as Michael spoke. The look in her eyes was pure, malicious evil. Vile and serpentine. “You could be right. But then again, you could be wrong.”

I sensed it then. The presence of others. More drones. A lot more. They weren’t physically close yet, but they would be soon.

Shit.

Oh, shit.

Ren… Where in the hell is Ren?

Her eyes met mine, and even though I kept my face expressionless I knew she saw my fear. She saw it and it amused the hell out of her. With a pleased smirk on her face, the queen looked at her drone. “Kill them.”

He moved—fast, so fast—too fast for a mortal. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun. Hell. That wasn’t a gun—it was a hand-held cannon, and while it wasn’t easy to kill either of us using a bullet, it could be done. Especially with a gun that had the firepower to sever the spinal column with a couple of bullets. It would take good aim, but I wasn’t going to count on this bastard having lousy aim.

I dove for the queen.

Off to my side, Michael had lunged for the drone and was fighting for control of the gun.

The queen might not have complete control over the new body, but she was strong and determined. I took her down, but she didn’t stay down. She fought with the strength of the demonic and the desperation of the damned.

We rolled over the floor and I hissed out a breath as one punch caught me in the ribs. I felt the bone break, felt the pain explode through me. I shoved it aside and drove a fist into the host’s nose. She laughed.

Blood splattered across the host’s face as she rolled me under her again, straddling me.

Horror jolted through me as I felt the hard, brutal length of the host’s erect penis pressing against my abdomen. She smiled down at me, a gruesome sight. The male face, the demonic, female hunger that hovered in the air around her.

“I think I might wait to kill you,” she purred.

Was it the blood roaring in my ears or something else that made it sound like there were two voices coming out of the host’s mouth? The male’s voice and then something darker, colder, alien. Hissing and harsh.

“If I kill you now, I can’t have fun with you. And I’ve never had this particular pleasure.” She stilled her struggles, her head cocked to the side. A thoughtful look passed over the male’s face. “But I think you have…haven’t you, pretty little Grimm? You know what it’s like to have a man tear inside you? Ripping soft flesh? Bruising your lovely body? Did he laugh?”

I snarled.

Fucking bitch. I wrenched my body, tearing one hand free from her grip. Driving my fist into her throat, I shoved her body aside.

I was staggering to my feet when I heard the gun.

I whirled around in time to see the drone shove Michael’s inert body off him.

Blood pulsed from the gaping hole in his chest. Heart blood. I stumbled towards him, forgetting the demon at my back, forgetting the drone and his gun.

Michael…

The drone lifted his gun and the queen said, “Stop. I want him to watch this.”

I felt her coming at me, but shock and grief slowed me down. He could heal it—he could. I just needed…

Her fist plowed into the back of my head and I went down.

Dimly, I heard the drone arguing with her.

“My queen, he must die. He will heal.”

“Not fast enough.”

The pain was beyond nauseating. Beyond intense.

He struggled to function past the pain, to make his body move. But the injury was too severe and until it healed…he was all but useless.

Rolling his head to the side, he stared at Elle trapped between the two of them.

Help—they needed help.

Ren—where was that cocky bastard now? Couldn’t take that fucking long to deal with cameras, now could it?

No. More than Ren. They needed more help than that…

Will.

Michael closed his eyes, blocked out the sight of Elle struggling. Had to focus—had to…

The medallion around his neck burned hot. Without waiting for Will to speak, he cried out for help. No words left his mouth. He couldn’t speak, could barely breathe. The call came from his mind, his heart…his soul.

“Help us, Will.”

Will’s voice came, flat and emotionless. “I already am.”

Michael wanted to look, but he couldn’t move—couldn’t move. Darkness edged in on his vision and he knew he was about to pass out. No—

“Elle…she needs…”

“I’m sorry, Michael, but you have to help Elle. My hands are rather full.”

The connection between him and the oldest Grimm went silent and Michael opened his mouth, a silent scream of rage.

She was going to…no. No. He couldn’t let that happen. Even as he imagined what was coming, he shoved it from his mind. No. Not again. He wouldn’t let that happen to her again.

Adrenaline flooded him. A fresh, hot wash of blood pumped from the hole in his chest. Shoving upright, he reached for some last vestige of strength. But his body had none. It took everything he had not to lose consciousness.

He was helpless.

No.

Physically, he was pretty much done for, but there was another way.

He collapsed back onto the floor, conserving what physical strength he still had and gathering his mental power. Turning his head, he focused on the three struggling in front of him.

They had Elle pinned down. Hot, potent rage pooled inside him. Michael reached for it, drew it inside him, welcomed the rush of energy it brought. Then he focused his power and launched it.

It arrowed out, spiraling towards the drone…and the queen.

They stiffened as he wrapped a mental net around them.

Blood began to leak from his nose. He couldn’t psychically control a queen. Not safely. Even the drone was straining his ability. The drone—he needed…

The darkness swirled back in on him. Snarling, he reached up and slammed his fist into the wound on his chest. Pain tore through him and he used it to force the darkness back.

“Get the gun,” he rasped out. His voice was hardly more than a gasp, a mere whisper. But he didn’t need to be heard to control a mind.

The drone was reluctant, his motions jerky, like a puppet on a string.

“Shoot the fucking bitch.”

The queen shrieked, struggling against Michael’s hold. Pain splintered through his mind and he felt the connection between them drawing tight, felt it snap as the connection was severed—

But the drone shot her before she could move.

Her host’s body collapsed lifeless to the floor and her essence faded into nothingness.

Michael closed his eyes. Blow your fucking head off, he thought, one last desperate command.

The last thing he heard was the second gunshot.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I scrambled across the floor to Michael. Carefully, I lifted his head into my lap, cradling him against my breast. His face was streaked with blood—it was leaking from his ears, his eyes, his nose. Even his mouth. “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…”

His chest moved faintly, his breath rattling. A death rattle.

No.

No, he wouldn’t die.

The door opened and I looked up. Will stumbled inside, the last soul I’d expected to see just then.

Ren was at his side, supporting the other Grimm’s weight. His animals were gone and the look in his eyes was dark, worried.

Ren brought Will to us and Will collapsed on the floor next to me. I opened my mouth, but Will’s hand shot out and cupped the back of my neck.

“Get closer, Ren. Now.”

Ren hunkered down next to us and light exploded and we fell into it.

Time stopped.

My heart stopped beating. My lungs stopped working. Everything froze.

Then the brilliant white light dimmed and we were in a cabin.

I recognized it. Will’s cabin—not exactly what I’d been expecting, but I didn’t care. Will was here. Will could heal Michael.

“Heal him.”

Will’s shoulders rose and fell. Lines of strain fanned out from his eyes and he looked grey, exhausted.

All I could think was… “Damn it, you bastard, heal him.”

“I can’t.” His lids drooped over his eyes. His head fell forward, his silvery-white hair shielding his face. “No energy left.”

“Damn, he needs help!” I stared at the hole in his chest, willed it to close. I should have been able to sense the healing inside him. I should have.

But there was nothing.

Nothing but his fading life force. “Why isn’t he healing?”

“Pushed himself too hard,” Will muttered. “Nothing left.”

“Then help him.”

“I can’t,” Will roared. His head lifted, just a little and he glared at me from under his lashes. “Fucking can’t. The drones…there were too fucking many and I damned near killed myself dealing with them. There’s…there’s nothing left, Elle.”

A harsh sigh escaped him and once more, he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Elle. But his fate is out of my hands.”

The drones—fuck.

“No.” A sob tore free from my chest and I shook my head. “No, damn it. I can’t lose him now.”

Gentle hands curled over my shoulders and then Ren settled down next to me. I shoved at him. “Leave me alone!”

“Let me try to help, poppet,” he said, his voice gruff. “Just let me try.”

Numb, I watched as he felt he wound in Michael’s chest. Wound—shit, I could put my fist through that hole. It wasn’t healing…

I fell into a fog, aware of nothing but Michael’s weak breaths and Ren’s quiet competence. There were no jokes now, so sly innuendo, no teasing smiles. Death hovered close and I shrank away from it.

He couldn’t die. Not like this. We didn’t die from gunshots.

But it wasn’t the gunshot. I’d felt the punch of his mind control as he used it on the queen and her drone—saving me. I would have survived being raped, and if he’d just let himself heal…

He hadn’t though, and he’d killed himself in the process.

Ren curled a bloodied hand over my shoulder. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but I can’t do much more than that. All we can do is wait. Pray.”

“Elle…”

I looked at Will. My oldest friend. My once lover. And I hated him. I looked away, focused on Michael. Bending over, I pressed my brow to his and whispered, “Please, Michael. Please don’t die.”

“Elle.”

Will’s voice was strained. A little louder. Commanding.

I snarled as I met his gaze. “What?”

“Take his hand. He…he needs energy. That will spark his body into healing. You’ve got energy. Take his hand…and pray.” Will’s lids closed.

Dimly, I realized he’d passed out.

But I didn’t care.

I closed my hand around Michael. Closed my hands. Prayed.

If this didn’t work nothing mattered. Nothing would ever matter again. Not for me.

Please…please don’t take him from me, not now.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Michael drifted in velvet darkness.

He was aware of only two things. Elle’s presence—the warmth of her body against his. And the cold. When she wasn’t there, he was so cold he ached.

He didn’t know how long he drifted. Time lost all meaning and, save for Elle and the cold that came whenever she withdrew, he was aware of nothing. But then something began to push in on the darkness, an annoying light that wouldn’t let him sleep, wouldn’t let him drift.

If it wasn’t for Elle’s soft voice, he would have turned his back on that light and just continued to drift. It was easier. It took nothing from him.

Concentrating on the light, on Elle, drained him, took what precious little energy he had, left him even more tired.

Forcing his lids open, he stared, waited for his vision to come into focus.

Slowly, it did and he realized he was flat on his back, staring at the exposed wooden beams of the ceiling overhead. Something popped, hissed. He recognized the sound of a fire, saw the flickering sway of shadows on the wall by the bed where he lay.

It was cold despite the fire. Damn cold, and it wasn’t just because he was weak either. There was a window across the room and it was covered with frost.

Rolling his head on the pillow, he stared around the room and tried to figure out where in the hell he was.

And where in the hell Elle was.

The answer to the latter came just seconds later when a door opened. Elle and a small whirlwind of snow came inside. Snow?

She stopped in her tracks, staring at him.

“Michael…”

He tried to smile, but his mouth was stiff—hell, everything was stiff. He couldn’t force his voice to work, couldn’t do anything but stare at her. Then she dove for him and he realized his body could work.

Just sluggishly.

She wrapped her arms around him, cuddling close. She was icy cold, but the tears that fell onto his face were hot. “Shhhh…” he murmured, curling an arm around her neck, holding her close. “Don’t cry, my darling girl.”

She slammed a fist into his arm and said, “Don’t tell me not to cry, you bastard.”

“But I hate to see you cry.”

She sniffed and straightened, staring down at him. “You’ve spent the past five months flat on your back. You can’t tell me not to cry.”

Michael blinked. “Did…did you say five months?”

“Yes.” Elle reached out and traced her finger along the curve of his mouth, his jaw. “You’ve been in stasis-sleep.”

Stasis-sleep—when a Grimm’s body basically went into shutdown, usually to conserve all energy and focus on healing. “Stasis.” He scowled and rubbed a hand down his face. “I’ve never been down that long. You’ve been here? All this time?”

“Where else would I be?” She cocked a golden brow and pressed her lips to his and whispered, “We had a date, remember?”

“A date?”

“Hmmm.” She nipped his lower lip and then lifted her head. Cupping his cheek in her hand, she said softly, “You asked me to marry you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted…to be with you. You’re not getting out of it just because you almost killed yourself protecting me.”

Tears glimmered in her eyes. His heart wrenched and he reached up, covered her hand with his. “I can think of nothing better to die for.” Then he cupped her neck and tugged her close.

He felt whole. Her soft, strong body pressed so close, and more…he could feel her. Inside. Inside his heart. Connected. Just as they’d connected all those years ago.

He was complete.

Nuzzling her neck, he murmured, “I can think of nothing better to die for. Nothing better to live for either. You’re my everything, Elle. My heart. My soul.”

Elle sniffed as she lifted her head. “See? You can be rather charming when you want.” She gave him a wobbly smile. A tear spilled over and rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You’re awake. I can’t believe you’re awake. Maybe I’m dreaming…”

“No.” Michael shifted on the bed and grimaced as his tight muscles screeched at him. No wonder he felt like hell—five months in stasis. The body of a Grimm was a fantastic thing. He had survived the months when a human would have died of dehydration, starvation.

Now that he was awake though, he was painfully aware of his hunger. His thirst. And the aching stiffness of muscles long unused.

“Trust me, you’re not dreaming. If you were, my body wouldn’t hurt like this. And I would probably be crawling all over you.” He scowled, utterly disgusted. “But I haven’t the energy for that. I need to eat.”

She started to rise. “I’m sure you do.” She gave him a wicked smile and murmured, “Let’s get you fed. Then maybe I’ll give you a massage…then you can crawl all over me.”

He caught her wrist. “No. Don’t move yet. Just give me a few minutes. I can’t let you go just yet.”

“Not even to cross the room?” She jerked her head towards the little kitchen tucked into the corner. “It won’t take long.”

“Five seconds is too long.” Michael brought her hand to his lips. “Just give me a few minutes.”

She relaxed against him and he sighed, smiled. Complete. He could have happily stayed like that for hours, but his stomach had to go and growl on him and Elle refused to stay in bed after she heard it.

“You’re eating,” she said, her brows dropping low over her eyes.

With a groan, he let her go, watching closely as she crossed the room. As long as she stayed close…

He did a mental assessment while she got busy in the little kitchen, flexing his muscles, taking stock. He hurt like hell. But a hot bath and that massage, if she was serious, a lot of food and water, then he’d be fine. As good as new, he supposed.

Hard to imagine just then though. The slightest movement took so much focus, so much energy. His muscles screamed at him as he forced his upper body upright, bracing his weight on one elbow.

He looked down at his chest, touched a hand to it. Soft cotton stretched over him and he probed the area with his fingers. Ridges. A scar. Frowning, he hooked a finger in the neck of the shirt he wore and tugged. There was a scar.

“It isn’t going to fade,” Elle said quietly.

Puzzled, he looked up at her. As he met her eyes, he reached up and touched his medallion. Still there. He still felt…other. Not quite as he had when he was human, not that he remembered much of that life anymore. Other than Elle.

“Why won’t it fade?”

She set something down on the small, wood-burning stove—a wood-burning stove? He hadn’t seen one of those in ages. Then she crossed back to him, kneeling beside the bed.

“You were too weak. You almost died.” She laid a hand over the scarred flesh.

“We don’t die. Not unless we choose to, or we lose our heads.” He rotated his neck, grimacing as it popped. “I still have my head and I didn’t give up my wings.”

“No. You just almost gave up your life stopping the queen. You drained yourself and even we can die of exhaustion. It takes a lot…and that’s what you gave. A lot. Damn near everything. You were at the point of death and it took a lot just for your body to heal the injuries in your mind from the attack on the drone and the queen. There wasn’t much left to heal the body, which is probably why you slept so long, and probably why you’re scarred. At least that’s what Ren believes.”

“Ren.” An automatic scowl tightened his face and he lowered his body back to the bed. “What would he know of it?”

“He’s got some medical training in his background.” Elle shrugged and climbed to her feet, returning to the kitchen. “He comes out every now and then to bring food, check on you.”

“Check on you, more likely,” Michael muttered. Exhaustion pulled at him and he felt his lids drooping closed. “Five months.”

“Hmmm. Longest five months of my life.”

He heard the sound of something metallic and looked up to see her putting a lid on a huge pot. Already the smell of something delicious filled the air.

“That didn’t take long.”

She smiled. “I’ve been living on soup and stew lately. I’m just reheating the stew that I made yesterday.” She gave the pot one more stir and then returned to the bed. “It won’t take much more than a few minutes.”

He lifted his arm. “Then lie back down…for a few minutes.”

She stretched out next to him, resting her hand on his chest, just above his heart.

Michael turned his face to her hair and breathed in the soft, familiar scent. “Where are we?”

“Will’s cabin. It’s in Germany. He brought us here after… Well, after that night.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You were hovering near death, so that’s not a surprise.”

“Will.” Michael opened his eyes and squinted at Elle. “If we’re in Will’s cabin, why didn’t he—”

“Heal you?” Elle finished. A frown curled her mouth downward and she shrugged. Drawing little circles on his chest, she said, “That’s what I thought he’d shown up for. But apparently he was there to deal with the drones. He had to shield everything…we were almost discovered.”

“Shield.”

“Yes. Will can hide things from plain sight when he wants to. But he usually doesn’t have to hide an entire building and dozens of drones. He damn near drained himself like you did. He didn’t have the energy to heal you. Besides, the damage you did went deeper than physical and I think that’s out of Will’s hands.”

She snuggled close, pressed a kiss to his chest. “I can’t believe you’re awake.” Her voice broke, a shuddery sigh escaping her. “I was starting to worry you’d never wake.”

“Of course, I’m awake. We had plans…we had a date. We’re getting married.”

“Married.” A happy little grin curled her lips. “Yeah. As soon as you can stand on your feet long enough, Prince Charming.”

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BIO

J.C. Daniels is the pen name of author Shiloh Walker.

Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more…ah…serious works of fiction. She loves reading and writing anything paranormal, anything fantasy, and nearly every kind of romance. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance, and urban fantasy as J.C. Daniels. You can find her at Twitter or Facebook and read more about her work at her website. Sign up for her newsletter and have a chance to win a monthly giveaway.

GET GRIMM

Urban Fantasy Romance

Candy Houses • No Prince Charming • Crazed Hearts
Tarnished Knight • Locked in Silence • Grimm Tidings
Blind Destiny • Furious Fire • Grimm’s End

LOOK FOR OTHER TITLES BY J.C.’S OTHER HALF, SHILOH WALKER

The Ash Trilogy

If You Hear Her • If You See Her • If You Know Her

The Secrets & Shadows Series

Burn For Me • Break For Me • Long For Me

Deeper Than Need • Sweeter Than Sin • Darker Than Desire

The FBI Psychics

The Missing • The Departed • The Reunited

The Protected • The Unwanted • The Innocent

The Hunters

Paranormal Romance

Hunting the Hunter • Hunters: Heart and Soul • Hunter’s Salvation

Hunter’s Need • Hunter’s Fall • Hunter’s Rise

And more

Table of Contents

- Copyright
- A Time to Heal
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Bio
- Get Grimm