Sin City Collectors

Box Set

Queen of Hearts

Dead Man’s Hand

Double or Nothing

Kristen Painter

Sin City Collectors Boxed Set

Three novellas from the Sin City Collection

QUEEN OF HEARTS

Copyright © 2014 Kristen Painter

DEAD MAN’S HAND

Copyright © 2014 Kristen Painter

DOUBLE OR NOTHING

Copyright © 2014 Kristen Painter

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-1-941695-05-0

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NEWSLETTER

Table of Contents

Queen of Hearts

Dead Man’s Hand

Double or Nothing

The Sin City Collectors

About the Author

Many Thanks

QUEEN OF HEARTS

A Sin City Collectors Novella

Kristen Painter

Welcome to Vegas. Home of the Sin City Collectors. The job description is easy: Bring the offending supernatural in to the Boss and don’t ask any questions.

Feline shifter Claudette Marchon traded life as a showgirl to become a Sin City Collector, giving up the glamour to earn some serious cash in order to buy her own business. Mission accomplished, she now runs a pawn shop specializing in gems and jewelry.

Life is good until a Collection job requiring her specific skill set lures her back in. The Queen of Hearts, a museum-worthy ruby and diamond necklace has been stolen from the Boss’s private collection and she’s his last hope to do what two other Collectors have already failed to do. Bring in the necklace. And the thief.

But gargoyle Jason Tennant isn’t quite the dangerous criminal Claudette expects. In fact, he’s not a thief at all. He’s former Special Ops and being set up by the real mastermind, forcing her to decide between the man she’s falling for and the man she works for. Proving Jason innocent may risk the Boss’s wrath, but Claudette’s heart says it’s a gamble worth taking.

“This fun, fresh series ups the ante and takes you on a wild ride you won’t forget! Clever, face-paced, flirty—Viva Las Vegas!”

~ Gena Showalter, NYT Best Selling Author

What’s Collected in Vegas, stays in Vegas…

*All Sin City Collectors Novellas are stand alone novellas, all set within the world of the SCC. Our goal is for you to sit back and enjoy the ride as each author presents their unique story. The world of the Sin City Collectors is big. Places and characters will overlap, so be sure to look for your favorites and stay tuned for more novellas!

To Amanda—I’m so glad we’re in this together!

As Frankie buzzed in a customer, Claude straightened the new art deco sapphire bracelet she’d just taken in. The stones were gorgeous, cornflower blue, and the diamonds were flawless and colorless. It was a stellar piece, part of a large estate collection—almost all of it exceptional—and she was seriously considering keeping this piece for herself.

“Claudette Marchon?”

Claude’s attention shifted from the bracelet to the man walking into The Gem Exchange, her pawnshop. He had the look of someone on a mission. But, then, so did most people who came into this place. Vegas had a way of doing that to people. Of turning the ordinary into the desperate. “Can I help you? I’m her grandmother.” That wasn’t so much a lie as a defensive truth. Being able to shift forms had its advantages and disadvantages. Well, mostly just the one disadvantage—keeping one of those forms a secret.

The man stopped in front of the counter where she was working. Decent suit with a nice fit and a respectable, if slightly flashy, tie. Good haircut. Little too much pomade slicking back his dark hair, but he’d held back on the cologne. Businessman in too deep? Insurance salesman, maybe. “Is she here?”

Claude locked the showcase, securing the sapphires behind glass. “What do you want with her, sonny?” Pretending to be her own grandmother gave her a lot of leeway on sass.

He held his hands up and smiled. A gold pinkie ring winked from his left. Used car dealer was a possibility. Or maybe he was mobbed up. This was Vegas. Bugsy Siegel might be long gone, but there were new kinds of Mafia in this town. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just have a message for her.”

Claude held out one wrinkled but well-manicured hand. “You can give it to me. I’ll make sure she gets it.”

His smiled disappeared. “Sorry, ma’am. No can do. Has to be delivered in person. Boss’s orders.”

At the word boss, Claude’s stomach sank. She’d been close on the mobbed-up guess. This was no businessman looking to pawn his Rolex to raise a little more cash for the tables. “I’ll go get her.” She nodded at her employee, Frankie, who was a good kid and a very distant cousin who couldn’t shift fully into anything yet but could maintain a decent half-form that gave him claws, yellow eyes and a rather amusing set of whiskers. “Watch the store.”

Frankie nodded back with youthful seriousness, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Yes, ma’am.”

Claude glanced at the man as she started for the back. “Time for Claudette to take over anyway. I have a spa appointment.” She slipped into the back room and closed the door. What did the Boss need her for? She was technically retired. And had been for almost two years. She blew out a breath and stared at the ceiling. Two years and not a word from headquarters. Long enough for her to think the Boss had forgotten about her. Apparently, she’d been wrong.

Well, she’d always known it was a possibility. Didn’t mean she was going to jump for joy over the disruption to her life.

With a shiver, she reverted back to her normal form of a thirty-two-year-old woman. She smoothed her hands over her no longer gray hair, changed out of her pants suit and into the little sheath dress and heels she kept on hand for such emergencies, which, thankfully, didn’t happen often.

She yelled, “Bye, Gran.” Keeping the illusion solid was as important as keeping this part of her abilities secret. She’d made the mistake of sharing it with someone once. That had been enough of a lesson that she’d vowed never to do it again. Frankie knew, but he was family and understood the seriousness of protecting one’s gifts.

A quick check in the mirror. Everything was as it should be. She headed back to the counter. A few new customers had come in, but they were just browsing.

The man was still there. Fortunately, Frankie was farther down the counter helping someone else. She smiled reservedly. “Can I help you? My grandmother said you had a message for me?”

The man nodded and reached into his pocket. She already knew what he was going to pull out.

She held up a finger. “Wait.” Frankie wasn’t totally ignoring the customer in front of him, but his gaze was sliding in her direction enough to tell her he was more interested in watching what was going on with her. Considering he was always bugging her for stories about her past, it was understandable. But not his business. “Let’s continue this in my office, shall we?”

“Your call.”

“Come through there.” She pointed to the half-door between the counters as she reached under the one in front of her to unlock it. A buzzer sounded.

The man pushed through the half-door, then followed her into her office. She stopped in front of her neat but crowded desk, turned and held out her hand. Thankfully, she’d put her grandma outfit in the bottom drawer. “Let’s have it.”

With a wry look, the man reached into his jacket pocket again, this time pulling out the playing card she’d been expecting. Had he thought she was going to give him a hard time over this? She probably would, but she’d at least assess the situation first. He handed over the card. “Here you go.”

She took it. Hand painted, like always. At the corners, instead of a number and a suit symbol, were heart-shaped faceted rubies. The center picture was Sloan Tower. “Are you kidding me?” She glanced up at him. “This involves Cristos the Incredible?” Cristos the Incredible was the stage name of Robert Sloan, the illusionist who’d turned his Vegas magic show into an empire.

“Only because the supe in question works for him.”

She looked at the card again. Underneath the picture was the name Jason Tennant. Beneath that the letters C and R. “A Collection and a Recovery?” That was twice the work.

The card was how Collections were handed out to the Sin City Collectors (SCC), and the job parameters were cut-and-dried: Do what the playing card told you. A Collector’s objective was to bring the offending supernatural to the Boss. And that was that.

Except she’d stopped being a Collector two years ago. It had been interesting, but she’d had different dreams. “Why am I being called in for this? You know I’m retired.”

The man barely registered a response. “The Boss has his reasons.”

“I’m sure he does.” Didn’t he always? But reason from a man who favored peanut butter, bacon and banana sandwiches was a relative thing. “You haven’t introduced yourself yet, you know.”

“Sorry. I’m Romero and I’m your point of contact on this Collection.”

She sat on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs, which thanks to Pilates, were as good as the day she’d stopped dancing and started Collecting. “You must be new.”

“Why’s that?”

“You seem awfully confident I’m going to take this job.”

He took the only other chair in the small room. “You have no choice. You don’t do it, the Boss will pull your pawn license. Besides, I know the deal you made. You retired with the stipulation that if there was an especially difficult Collection or one that you were deemed the most suited for, you could be called in.”

She waved the card in the air. “I’m still waiting to hear why this one qualifies.”

He took a long breath. “This is both difficult and something we feel you’re best suited for. Also, we’ve sent two other Collectors in undercover. Neither of them lasted long enough to get the job done.”

A little ping of alarm zipped through her. “What kind of supernatural is this Jason Tennant?”

“Gargoyle.”

Crap. Gargoyles were an eleven on a one-to-ten scale of difficult takedowns. “So you think this Tennant killed the first two?”

“No.” Romero frowned. “Sloan fired them. He’s a perfectionist.”

That was something else entirely. “Back to Tennant. Gargoyles can sense threats. How am I supposed to get past that?”

“Chances are the only threats he’ll be looking for are those against Sloan. He’s in the man’s show, but when he’s not, he also does personal security for Sloan. You should be okay.”

Should be okay? Not very reassuring. And in a town like Vegas, it didn’t always pay to play the odds. “What am I recovering?”

“The Queen of Hearts ruby. Eighteen and a half carats surrounded by diamonds and set on a diamond-studded chain. Tennant stole it from the Boss’s private gem collection a month ago.”

Her mouth watered a little at the necklace’s description. She had such a weakness for pretty, sparkling things. She flicked the card against her fingernails and played it cool. “If he stole it a month ago, why is he still in town?”

“We assume he’s waiting for the stone to cool off. Or he’s fenced it already. If so, we need to know who bought it.”

“He hasn’t been in here with it.”

“With your past as a Collector, we didn’t think he would have brought it to you.” Romero narrowed his eyes. “Unless you’ve started dealing in black-market goods?”

“You know I don’t. And wouldn’t.” She tossed the card onto her desk and changed the subject before she let it get her angry. “So…Sloan’s got a gargoyle for a bodyguard. Talk about hiring by type.” Humans might think Sloan was just a talented magician, but supernaturals knew he was actually a sorcerer. His magic wasn’t sleight of hand, it was real. “I wonder what kind of boss Sloan is, besides being a perfectionist.”

Romero’s mouth bent in a smirk. “You’ll find out starting tomorrow. We set you up to fill the job as his new assistant.”

Claude stood. “An assistant? I was a showgirl, for crying out loud. I don’t know anything about doing that kind of work.”

“His magician’s assistant. Not his personal assistant. All you have to do is put on some sequins and point at things. You’ll be fine.”

That’s what civilians always thought stage jobs were like. Smile and look pretty. She glared at him. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Then I suggest you figure it out, sweetheart.” Romero pushed to his feet, the lack of concern on his face plain. “I’ve read your file. You were a good Collector, but that was two years ago. I think you’ve lost your edge. In fact, I wouldn’t have picked you to take this on.” His gaze ran over her like he was sizing her up. She was used to that. “I mean, you’re beautiful, but once that gets you in the door, then what? Can you protect yourself in a fight? What do you know about defensive—”

She launched forward, grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him off his feet. Her tall, slender build made a lot of people underestimate her. In most cases, she was perfectly okay with that. “Don’t call me sweetheart and don’t look at me like I’m a piece of meat. I was a showgirl, not a prostitute. If you read my file, then you should know I was an exceptional Collector. I have more strength and speed than half the supernaturals in this town. If you have a problem with me, I suggest you take it up with the Boss. Or would you like me to do it for you? Because I’m one of the few who’s got an open invite to visit him anytime.” That wasn’t totally true, but it was well known that the Boss had always had a weakness for pretty women. It was how she’d talked her way into Collecting the first time. But getting jobs done was how she’d held the position.

The closest she’d come to actually meeting him was the flowers he’d once sent to her dressing room.

Romero shook his head as best he could and squeaked out, “Understood.”

She dropped him to his feet.

He adjusted his collar and smiled. “Well done.”

She squinted at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He tugged his jacket down. “That was just a test to see if you still had the fire in you.” He bowed his head slightly. “I’m happy to see you still do. I have no problem with you. In fact, I was the one who recommended you.”

Her ire had yet to cool. “Then whose idea was that test?”

He raised a brow. “Who do you think?”

So the Boss’s then. Some of her anger leaked away. “That man needs a new hobby.”

Romero laughed softly. “I have no comment.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Anything else I need to know?”

Romero pulled a small envelope from his other pocket. “Here’s your new ID and your background info.”

She opened it and pulled out the contents. She stared at the driver’s license. “Claudia Smith? That took a lot of imagination.” There were a few sheets of paper, too. She unfolded them. There was a picture marked Tennant. Close-cropped dark hair, square jaw, steely gaze. He was that hard, dangerous kind of pretty that a lot of women probably went for. She knew the type. And she knew better. She held the picture up. “Ex-military?”

“Yes. Special Ops.”

“Awesome. Because being a gargoyle wasn’t enough.” Taking Tennant down might be the Collection of her life. She paged through the rest. “A résumé and a letter of recommendation from Louie Fiore.” She slanted her eyes at Romero. “Sloan hired me based on this?”

“You know Louie. He can be very persuasive. Plus, I think he might have also made a phone call.”

“Anything else?”

The look in Romero’s eyes shifted to one of apprehension. “Just be careful. We really don’t know how dangerous Tennant is. You need me, call me or text me directly. My number’s on the sticky note on those papers. I’m available twenty-four/seven.”

She glanced at the digits on the yellow square. That number needed to go into her phone immediately. “Is there a deadline on this?”

Romero frowned. “Not a hard one, no, but the sooner you can wrap it up and bring in the gem and Tennant for stealing it, the sooner the Boss will be in a better mood.” He adjusted his collar again. “That’s something we’d all appreciate.”

He’d had another nearly sleepless night filled with the kind of dreams that left him strung out like he’d served a third tour, and now this idiot wanted to play games. Jason Tennant simmered with irritation, but he was careful not to let it show.

He stood before Robert Sloan’s desk. The man was studying an ancient book, purposely ignoring Jason, even though Sloan had called him in. It was just another of the sorcerer’s power trips. Fortunately, Jason’s military training meant he could stand at attention for hours if necessary.

This wasn’t a game Sloan was going to win.

But being able to win something so small did nothing to alleviate the feeling of being trapped, which was how Jason had felt since coming to work for Sloan. And for a shifter like Jason, there was no worse sensation in the world.

At last, Sloan looked up. “Ah, there you are. What took you so long? I must have called for you an hour ago.”

Which was how long Jason had been standing there. He grunted. It was a better response than slamming the man’s head into his desk. At least the visual made him feel better.

Sloan went back to his book, nodding absent-mindedly. “If all gargoyles are as slow as you, it’s no wonder your race is dying out. Let me see now…” He sighed and stabbed his finger onto a page in the book. “Ah, yes, there it is.” He looked up, eyes twinkling with a hard light. “I need the scales of a lamai demon.”

Jason knew better than to ask why. He already knew. Sloan was working on an immortality spell that was going to be a part of his next illusion, one where he apparently would die onstage. Somehow, the gathering of the very specific ingredients had fallen to Jason. And none of them were things that could be picked up at the local Magic Mart.

The first few hadn’t been that tough, but then Sloan had forced Jason to steal a massive ruby called the Queen of Hearts for the spell. And now he was going to force Jason to find the scales of a lamai demon. Which Jason would, because the man possessed Jason’s keystone, the maker’s mark and soul of every gargoyle. “I’ve got no idea where to get lamai demon scales.” A lie, but he wasn’t going to help Sloan any more than he had to.

Sloan rolled his eyes. “Come now, you can’t expect me to believe that. There’s a bar called Hellhounds near the Strip. It’s a known gathering place for all kinds of supernatural creatures.”

Damn. Jason hadn’t expected Sloan to know about Hellhounds. “And if there aren’t any lamai demons there?” Except that there usually were.

Sloan tipped his head like he was talking to a child. “Jason, must we really do this? You know what will happen if I destroy your keystone.”

Jason glared at the man. Yeah, he knew what would happen. And sometimes the thought of being an ordinary human, without any extra strength, senses or speed, didn’t seem so bad. It was almost the way he was living now by being separated from his keystone. And without all his extra skills, Sloan wouldn’t want him anymore. He might be human, but he’d be free. “That’s a supernatural bar. Going into that place on this kind of mission without being able to shift into my true form could be dangerous.”

“I agree. Which is why I suggest you be careful.” Sloan’s fingers coasted over the page, his attention no longer on Jason. “And you’re not without some advantage. You have your half-form.”

The intercom on Sloan’s desk buzzed, and his secretary’s voice poured out of it. “Mr. Sloan, your new assistant is here.”

Sloan hit the button to reply. “It’s about time. Send her in.”

The door to the penthouse office’s foyer opened and closed. “Hello?”

“In here,” Sloan called out.

The woman who strolled in caused all other thought in Jason’s head to cease. She moved with an unnatural grace that made it impossible not to watch her walk. It was the kind of walk that announced very plainly she wasn’t meant for just any kind of man. Her dark hair was done up in a simple low chignon, but a few pieces had escaped to dance around her perfect cheekbones. Black sunglasses perched on the bridge of her delicate nose. She pushed them onto her head, revealing a stunning pair of large, upturned eyes the color of cognac. Really expensive cognac.

She was the most regal temp he’d ever seen.

She held a slim leather clutch in one hand as she reached out with the other. “Mr. Sloan, I’m Claudia Smith. It’s a pleasure to meet Cristos the Incredible in person.”

“Yes, I imagine it is.” Sloan waved a hand at her, but didn’t shake hers. “Turn around.”

Sloan was a pig. Jason wanted to smack him and tell him to show a little respect.

She did as Sloan asked, rotating slowly. The view was equally impressive from all sides. “Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing. You’re as beautiful as Fiore promised you would be.” Sloan stared at her as if measuring her up, then shook his head. “This is Jason. He can tell you what needs done, show you where things are as soon as he confirms you’re safe.” Sloan pointed at him. “Jason, check her.”

“Safe?” She looked at Jason, then back at Sloan.

Staring at Sloan, Jason flattened his arms against his sides, causing the Beretta M9 in his side holster to press into his ribs. This imbecile couldn’t expect him to—

Sloan looked up. “What are you waiting for?”

Jason ground his teeth together and moved toward Claudia.

“Not here,” Sloan barked. “If you have to dispatch her, I don’t want the mess all over my office. Take her into the kitchen. If she passes, then…” Sloan’s gaze ran up and down her body. “Have her try the costumes on and see if they fit. We have a show tomorrow night. She needs to learn the routine by then, so let her watch the videos before we go to rehearsal this afternoon.”

Claudia’s eyes widened slightly, but she held her ground. Jason gave her points for not running screaming from the room.

“Go!” Sloan shook his head. “I have work to do.”

Jason grabbed Claudia’s hand and pulled her out of the room, closing the door behind him and getting her out of harm’s way. “That probably wasn’t the introduction you were expecting.”

“No.” There was very little fear in her eyes. Good. If she wasn’t made of strong stuff, she’d never last working for Sloan. “What did he mean for you to check me? And that you might have to dispatch me?”

Her gaze drifted beneath his jacket. “Are you…carrying?”

“Yes, but there’s nothing for you to worry about. Nothing bad is going to happen. Follow me, and I’ll explain.” Jason led her into the kitchen. He smiled. Not hard to do looking at her. “I’m Jason Tennant, by the way. I do security for Sloan, but I’m sure you figured that out.” He stuck his hand out.

She shook it, the tiniest flash of something wary passing through her gaze. “You can call me Claude. All my friends do.” She set her clutch on the kitchen counter. “What happens now?”

“Now I check you for intent, Claude.”

She stared at him. “Should I know what that means?”

“I’m a…that is, the kind of supernatural I am has the ability to detect intent to harm.”

She nodded, relaxing a little. “Okay. Are you going to frisk me?” She folded her hands behind her head, pushing her chest forward.

Her movement, combined with the idea of running his hands over that body, shot such pleasure through him that he barely contained a groan. “Uh, no, not exactly. I’m going to…sniff you.”

“You’re a hellhound? I thought they were basically extinct.” She lowered her arms.

“No, I’m not a hellhound. I’m a…” Sloan had taught Jason the danger in revealing his true nature. But now that his keystone was already stolen, what more harm could anyone do? Especially the woman in front of him. “I’m a gargoyle.”

Her brows lifted. “One of the few supernaturals who can fly. Very cool. I’ve actually never met one before. Be a shame if you had to kill me, hmm?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I promise that’s not going to happen, but if you wouldn’t mind, just stand still, and I’ll get this over with.”

She shrugged and clasped her hands in front of her, those cognac eyes piercing him.

Feeling like a perv, he went to work inhaling the air around her. She smelled warm and flowery with the slightest hint of something earthy, the way all animal shifters did. He was acutely aware of how close they were. Of how all that separated them was the silky little wrap dress she wore and a few inches of air. After shaking her hand, he knew just how soft her skin was. And couldn’t help but wonder if she was that soft all over…

He pulled back. Her eyes were closed tight. Was she really afraid he might kill her? Damn, not a first impression he was proud of, but that was Sloan’s fault, not his. “You’re okay. All checked out.”

“Good.” She sighed as she opened her eyes, looking very relieved. “Do you check all of Mr. Sloan’s visitors that way?”

“Yes,” Jason growled. “The man thinks everyone’s out to get him.” Which they might be. If not for the issue of Jason’s keystone, he’d probably kill Sloan himself.

“Have you worked for Mr. Sloan long?”

Ever since the bastard had stolen his freedom. “Long enough.” He changed the subject. “You’re some kind of shifter, right?”

She laughed. “You picked that up, huh?”

“I did. Plus, all of Sloan’s assistants are. They kind of have to be for the show. Less actual work he has to do if the girl can turn herself into some kind of animal.” He tipped his head. “What are you? I’m guessing feline.”

She nodded. “Very perceptive. And since we’re sharing, I’m a leopard.”

He nodded. “That will work nicely.” No wonder she had those big cat eyes and that dead-on stare. Her hotness rose a few notches. A woman who could shift into a leopard was suddenly the sexiest thing he’d heard of. And it was good to know she was probably capable of handling herself around Sloan. “He keeps a couple old costumes here, but the current ones are in the dressing room at the theater. If you try one on, I can verify it fits, then we can move on to the actual show. There’s a lot to learn and not a lot of time to do it in.”

She smiled. “I’m a quick study. And I’m sure I’ll have no problems with the costume, so long as the previous assistant wasn’t anorexic.”

“No, she was about your size.” Which was perfect.

Claude leaned in a little. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly happened to the last assistant?”

Jason sighed. “Sloan fired her in one of his rages.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

“More than it should.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “You’ll see.”

Claude shut the door to the meeting room and leaned against it. Jason’s story about Sloan’s treatment of the last assistant made her feel for the Collector who’d come before her. It’s a wonder the woman hadn’t quit. Sloan was hard-core crazy.

Which made it difficult to understand why anyone, Jason included, would go along with Sloan’s crazy orders so willingly. Whatever was going on, there was more to it than what Jason was telling her. She also got the feeling she was in deeper than Romero had led her to believe she would be. Jason was armed, for Bast’s sake.

After making sure the door was locked, she walked to the far side of the room, dug out her phone and sent a quick text to Romero. Was last Collector also Sloan’s assistant? If so, I can understand why she couldn’t hang. Seems most of his assistants get fired.

She tucked the phone away and went to the closet where Jason had indicated the costumes were. She opened it and snagged the first one she saw, a black and silver sequined number with a little feather headdress, fishnets and the spikiest pair of stiletto knee-high boots she’d ever seen. It was like being backstage at the Silver Slipper all over again.

Except this time she didn’t have to worry about anyone pushing her down the steps. She glanced toward the door. Or did she?

Bast help her, she really didn’t want to have to kill Jason—he was an extraordinarily handsome man with a body that did not disappoint, but if he struck first, she wasn’t going down without a fight. One she’d end up winning, because no doubt he thought she was just a feline shifter. Grimalkins were more powerful than normal shifters. Even in her old-woman form she had enough strength to pick up the back end of a city bus.

She untied her wrap dress, kicked off her shoes and started putting on the costume. Flirting with Jason wasn’t hard. She had to keep reminding herself that she was supposed to be pretending, but the banter with him came so easy it was more like play than work. Not that anything would happen between them, because he was the target of her mission and a known criminal. She’d had enough of men to last her a lifetime anyway, but it was good she and Jason were getting on so well. She needed him to feel comfortable enough with her to eventually let loose some secrets. Specifically, what he’d done with the Queen of Hearts.

Of course, he’d confessed his true nature to her pretty easily. She’d expected him to hide the fact that he was a gargoyle, but he’d come right out with it.

She shimmied into the sequined hot pants, happy when they zipped up the back without protest. Snug, but that’s how they were meant to fit. She grabbed the bustier next. What did it mean that he’d handed over that info so readily? She couldn’t imagine she’d charmed him that quickly. Not that she wasn’t good at her job.

No, it was almost like…it didn’t matter if she knew. Like he didn’t care.

Why? What would make him feel that way? A chill gripped her. The only reason she could think of for him not caring that she knew his true nature was if he knew she wasn’t going to be around that long.

If he expected her to quit, he was going to be wickedly disappointed.

Unless…Holy Bast. Had Jason ever disposed of one of Sloan’s assistants? Did the job come with an expiration date? Romero would have said something about that, wouldn’t he? She hoped so.

She hooked the bustier, adjusting the girls for maximum cleavage, then sat in one of the chairs surrounding the conference table to zip up the black stiletto boots before checking her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window.

Oh, yes. She still had it. She might be slightly more curvy than her days headlining at the Silver Slipper, but it was all in the right places.

As for Jason, well, she’d just pour it on a little thicker. Make sure he didn’t want to do anything to hurt her. She’d make him fall in love with her if she had to. Wasn’t that hard, really. She’d done it to a thousand men every night, six nights a week when she’d been dancing.

With a smile on her face, she pulled the pins from her chignon, tossed them on the conference table, and finger-combed her hair free, then reached back and undid the hooks on the bustier. Holding it to her chest with one arm, she opened the conference room door. “Jason?”

“Yes?” He was leaning against the opposite wall, his eyes widening a little as he did his best not to stare at her.

She bumped the door wider with her hip, then turned and swept her hair over one shoulder to expose her bare back. “I need a little help. Can you hook me up?”

“Uh. Sure.” A second later, his knuckles grazed her skin as he fumbled with the tiny hooks and eyes. It felt like his fingers lingered longer than necessary. She smiled, enjoying the sudden effort of his breathing. His touch left wakes of heat behind as his fingers lifted from her skin. “There. All done.”

She surreptitiously adjusted the girls again before turning back around, her hands on her hips, her chest thrust forward. “What do you think? Do I pass the costume test?”

He nodded so slowly she wondered for a moment if the sight of her had struck him dumb, but then he managed a, “Yes. Definitely.”

“Should I go show Mr. Sloan? I might need a little help getting to his office.” She grabbed his arm and wobbled slightly for effect. “The heels on these boots aren’t meant for shag carpeting.”

He smiled and almost blinded her. Holy Bast, he was pretty. It didn’t hurt that he looked like he’d been carved out of stone. Which seemed appropriate for a gargoyle. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I can vouch for you, Claudia.”

She leaned into him. “Please, call me Claude.”

“Claude,” he repeated. “Claudia fits you better.”

“Why’s that?”

His eyes narrowed. “Claude is a man’s name. And you are definitely not a man.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

He laughed. “Maybe, Claude.” He took a step back as if catching himself. “That’s probably not appropriate, is it? I know Sloan wouldn’t like me running you off before you’ve even begun.”

This time, she laughed. “Oh, I don’t scare that easily.” She canted her head. “Are you sure that’s not why some of the other assistants quit?”

“No.” He scowled. “They left because of Sloan.”

“I only meant maybe you’d broken their hearts.”

“I’m not like that. And Sloan wouldn’t allow it anyway. He’s got rules.” The steel in his eyes told her she’d hit a nerve, but was it because something had happened with an assistant or because Jason was tired of Sloan controlling him?

Either way, she’d killed the fun, flirty mood. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her bare back to him again, hoping to distract him and return that smile to his face. “Will you do me?”

His swallow was audible, and not just because she had better hearing than most. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d undo me.”

“Oh. I thought you said—never mind. Sure.”

“Thanks.” She looked over her shoulder and smiled. Her hair was in the way. He’d have to move it himself to accomplish the task. “Then I’ll get dressed, and you can show me the routine. Sound good?”

He nodded as he gently brushed her hair over her shoulder, his touch raising goose bumps and reminding her just how much time had passed since she’d been this intimate with a man of any species.

Then she reminded herself what an ass that last man had turned out to be. There was no reason to think Jason—or any other man—would be different.

The bustier drooped as he undid the last hook and eye, held up only by her crossed arms. “I’ll meet you in the viewing room, and you can watch the DVD of the show, okay? It’s just down the hall and on the right.”

“Thanks. Be out in a sec.” Holding the bustier in place with one hand, she closed the door, but not before catching the fire in his eyes.

Jason Tennant might be made of stone, but he was starting to become putty in her hands.

Jason shoved a hand through his hair as he paced the viewing room and waited for Claude. Something was seriously wrong with him. Sloan had had several assistants since Jason had worked for him, and none of them had affected him the way Claude did. They’d never even remotely tempted him. Granted, they hadn’t been anything like Claude. There was something about her that ignited a blast furnace in his belly, filling him with a primal desire he hadn’t felt in many years.

Her smile, the perfume that surrounded her, the silky softness of her skin, her confidence, her quick tongue…all of it melded into an amazing package that intrigued him.

But he wasn’t so bewitched that he didn’t understand she knew what she was doing. She was flirting right back and obviously enjoying it. He smiled. Actually, that made him like her even more. A few of Sloan’s assistants, the last one especially, had seemed afraid of him. Maybe because of his size. Maybe because they knew he’d do whatever Sloan told him to. Maybe because they could sense he was a man on the verge of losing it.

Claude appeared to not only like the banter between them, she’d basically been encouraging it. And didn’t seem the least bit scared. He ran a hand through his hair. Whether it was bravado or she truly felt that way, her confidence only added to her sex appeal. Didn’t hurt that she was by far the most beautiful woman he’d seen in Vegas—and considering beautiful women in this town were as plentiful as fish in a well-stocked pond, that was saying something.

Claude carried herself like a queen. Her feline shifter side came through in every graceful step, every delicate twist of her neck. There was no way she’d needed him for balance in those boots. She’d just found a reason to touch him.

He sat down on the couch and cued up the DVD player with the disk from last night’s show. Sloan recorded every show, usually watching them the next morning to see what could be improved. As much as Jason hated the man, it was plain to see how Sloan had built the empire he had. Perseverance, dedication and hard work. Along with an appalling lack of ethics and a healthy dose of gray magic.

No wonder the man wanted an immortality spell.

“Ready for me?”

Jason looked up as Claude entered, back in her wrap dress and slightly more sensible heels. Her hair hung like a curtain of ebony silk around her shoulders. “Yeah. All I have to do is hit play.”

Smiling like she was reading more into his words than he meant, she sat beside him. “All right, go ahead. I’m ready to learn.”

He hit the button, then handed her the remote as the show played across the screen. “Just hit pause if you have a question about something. Besides learning your marks, the key thing you need to know is timing.”

She tapped pause the second Jason walked onstage. She turned to look at him. “You’re part of the act?”

He rolled his eyes slightly. If his Special Ops buddies ever saw him in the studded leather getup he wore onstage, he would never live it down. Fortunately, none of them were Sloan’s target audience. “Yes. There are quite a few lifts in the show, plus Sloan thinks it helps appeal to the female demographic.”

She pursed her mouth as she shifted her gaze to the screen again. “I’d say he’s right. What is that you’re wearing? Looks like a leather wrestling singlet crossed with some kind of bedazzled bondage gear.”

Jason grunted and sat back, arms crossed. “I hate that thing.”

She patted his knee. “Now, now. It’s pretty hot. And it’s still more clothing than I get to wear.” She pointed with the remote. “Look at that outfit she’s got on. It’s basically fishnets, a thong and bra. And those dominatrix boots again.”

Which he wasn’t going to complain about.

For the next hour and a half, she sat at his side, glued to the screen. Her concentration surprised him. She seemed serious about learning. Maybe his story about the last assistant had made more of an impact than he’d thought. Every time Claude hit pause, her question was intelligent and oddly attuned to everything he’d learned about staging the sort of massive production Sloan put on. The kind of details it had taken him months to pick up on.

He kept his thoughts to himself until she was done watching.

As Sloan walked off the stage to massive applause, she tapped the stop button and set the remote on the coffee table. “That’s a lot to remember. And I have to do that by tomorrow night?”

He nodded. “We’ll run through it this afternoon with Sloan a few times, so that should help, then you and I can work on any parts you still feel unsure about for the rest of the day. Plus, we have all day tomorrow. Trust me when I say he doesn’t want you doing anything to screw up the show any more than you do.”

“And if I do?”

He hesitated. “Don’t.”

Her mouth thinned to a tight line.

“He’ll probably forgive a few mistakes your first time.” Or not. Jason almost squeezed her hand to reassure her, but didn’t want to add to her nerves with an unwanted advance. “You seem to have a better working knowledge of stage direction than any of his other assistants.”

She stared at her hands for a moment. “I worked for a little bit as a showgirl.”

“That explains a lot.” And not just about what she knew about staging. The way she carried herself, the air of confidence that surrounded her…it was the missing piece in the Claude puzzle.

Sloan walked in. “Are you ready, Claudia? Because it’s time to go rehearse, and I expect you to get this routine down. My audience expects perfection, and so do I. I will not be made a fool of in my own show. Understood?”

She got to her feet, chin lifted, body stiff with that ever-present confidence. “I’m a professional. It’s why you hired me. Please don’t insinuate that I am anything less.”

Jason stifled a laugh. The woman was something else to come back at Sloan like that. Although it might get her booted early, which would be a damn shame. He stood, prepared to defend her.

Sloan raised his eyebrows like he’d been expecting her to cringe and stutter. He looked at Jason. “And she fit into the costume?”

“Better than your last assistant.”

“Hmph.” Sloan returned his gaze to Claude. “And you’ll be able to shift into animal form on cue? I was told you can take on the form of a leopard, but I will absolutely need to see for myself—”

Claude put one hand on her hip. “Are you suggesting I lied on my résumé?”

A glimmer of frustration shone in Sloan’s eyes. Claude was pushing him, and while it was fun to watch, Jason didn’t want her getting fired before she’d started. He jumped in. “You want me to tell the driver you’re ready?”

“No,” Sloan snapped. “He’s already waiting downstairs.” Without another word, he stalked out of the room.

Claude started after him, but Jason grabbed her hand. “Hey, don’t push him. He’s not a nice man. I’ve seen him accidentally on purpose let assistants get burned or hung up in the chains a little too long.” He tilted his head. “I love how you give it right back to him, but I don’t want to see you get hurt or fired.”

For a moment, something dark crossed her face, then it vanished and she smiled. “Thanks. I guess I should know better than to sass my new boss, huh? Any other advice?”

“Just that when Sloan is onstage, he goes by Cristos and nothing else. Call him Sloan in front of the lights too many times and things get ugly.”

“Cristos, got it.” She hesitated, then went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thanks for having my back. I owe you one.”

Rehearsals at the Silver Slipper’s Burlesque Review had been brutal because of the physical toll on the body. Rehearsals for Cristos the Incredible were brutal because Cristos was an ass. Claude’s face ached from holding the smile he insisted upon. Which was about all she’d done so far. Smile and point. Gesture and smile. Shimmy and smile. Smile and smile and smile and—

“CLAUDIA. Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, Cristos, I was practicing my smile.” She grinned wider to show him just how much she’d been practicing. Actually, smiling wasn’t that difficult when she looked at Jason. His costume wasn’t much more than a crisscross of leather straps and buckles attached to a pair of very snug, very short shorts. There wasn’t much of him she couldn’t see.

And he looked exactly like she’d expected a gargoyle to look. Hard as stone and chiseled from marble. A living, breathing sculpture. She cleared her throat as she suddenly realized she was purring.

Cristos frowned and tapped his wand against the side of the large glass box that had been designed to resemble an enormous shard of ice. “You’ve got the basic movements down. It’s time to see how quickly you can transform. In the box.”

She caught Jason’s eye. He stood beside the contraption. The angry expression on his face softened as his gaze shifted from Cristos to her. The man didn’t like Sloan any more than she did, that was plain. But then why had he been willing to steal something as valuable as the Queen of Hearts for Sloan? Did Jason need this job that badly? The man would probably make a damn fine Collector.

Making a mental note to ask Romero about that possibility, she stepped into the glass box. “What’s my cue?”

“After Jason closes the door, he’ll spin the box once, then step away as I take three paces to the left. When I hit my mark, I’ll throw a fireball at the box. You’ll have roughly three seconds while it’s engulfed in flames. After that, you’re out of time.”

Great. Fire. Not one of her favorite things. “If I singe a whisker,” she muttered.

“What was that, Claudia?”

She forced her practiced smile into place. “I said three seconds is plenty of time. What happens after that?”

“Jason will open the door. In your cat form, you leap onto his shoulders. He does a little walk around the stage to show you off, then you go back into the box. Another fireball, and abracadabra, you’re human again.”

“Got it.” She glanced at Jason. “I’ll try to keep my claws in.”

He patted the leather epaulets on his shoulders. “That’s what these are for, but don’t worry about it. You can’t hurt me.”

That’s what he thought. She stepped into the box.

Jason approached and whispered, “If something goes wrong, I can break this thing apart and get you out. Just yell for me, okay?”

She nodded.

He shut the door, gave her one last look, then grabbed the hidden handholds on the closest side and turned the box a full three hundred and sixty degrees while she smiled and waved at the make-believe audience. Jason stepped away, and Sloan moved into position.

Sloan raised his hand above his head, and a swirling ball of fire formed in his palm. It grew to the size of a grapefruit. He showed it to the empty auditorium, then yelled some made-up magical word and launched it at the box.

She dropped to her hands and knees as flames shot up the sides, destroying her visibility and instantly increasing the temperature. She concentrated on her leopard form. The familiar shift of bones and senses followed in a rapid flash. She panted as the heat around her built. Her animal instincts screamed for her to run.

A second later, the fire died. Cristos yelled another magical word, arms out wide to display to the crowd the amazing feat he’d just accomplished.

Claude growled, showing off her teeth. Cristos might have supplied the fire, but without her ability to shift, there wouldn’t have been much of a trick. Jason opened the door, letting in a blast of fresh air, and gestured toward her.

She sprang onto his back, doing her best to keep from digging her sizable claws into him, only to realize they weren’t penetrating his skin anyway. Must be a gargoyle thing.

He stretched out his arms and walked from one end of the stage to the other then back again. She snarled a few times for good measure, imagining the crowd would really get a thrill thinking she could leap down and kill one of them in the blink of an eye.

Which she could.

Returning to the box, Jason crouched by the side, and she jumped off. Once she was back inside, he shut the door and Cristos repeated the fireball spell. Hidden by flames, she transformed back into her costumed human form and stood smiling as the fire died away.

Jason let her out. They both bowed, then jogged off the stage hand in hand to prep the next effect. He grinned at her. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks. I thought I might have cut you, but…”

He glanced at his shoulder. “Takes more than claws to cut through gargoyle hide.”

Cristos walked toward them, clapping slowly. “Very good, Claudia. I wasn’t sure about you, but that was well done.” He stopped clapping and put his hands on his hips, a hint of a smile curving his mouth. “The growling was a nice touch. Can you do that a bit more when you’re on his shoulders? Maybe paw the air? Show off those claws? The audience loves a good scare.”

“Of course, Cristos.” She sketched a little bow. “It’s your show.”

Cristos managed a full smile that lasted all of two seconds before he was strictly business again. “Jason, teach her the setup for the levitation illusion. I want to run through each one with you both, then you can take over and make sure she’s got her timing and marks down.”

Jason nodded. “Will do.” When Cristos had gone back to the other side of the stage to talk to someone about lighting, Jason took a break from showing her which props went with what trick. “Looks like you won him over. Hard to do, but that goodwill rarely lasts. He can turn on you with one wrong move. Still, it’s impressive that you got him to like you so quickly.”

“Thanks.” This time her smile came naturally. Being back onstage held a certain thrill, but that wasn’t why she was here. After Cristos left them alone, she’d be able to work on Jason a little more, see if she could get him to trust her enough so that, eventually, he’d tell her what he’d done with the priceless ruby her boss so desperately wanted back.

To say Claude had impressed him with her work ethic and stoic attitude would have been an understatement. Jason had yet to see one of Sloan’s assistants work so hard or so long without complaining or begging for a break. Even Sloan had been impressed, something as easy to do as teaching a blind man to recognize colors. He nodded to Claude. “What do you want to work on first?”

“Jason!” Sloan’s voice echoed across the open sound stage, interrupting Claude.

“Damn it,” Jason muttered. “I thought he’d left.” He’d been looking forward to time alone with her more than he’d realized. “Be right back. Take a break.”

She nodded, wiping a shimmer of perspiration off her brow. “I’ll be right here.”

He reluctantly left her and strode toward Sloan. “What now?”

Sloan’s jaw ticked, and Jason knew it was because of the tone he’d used and didn’t care. Sloan’s gaze shifted to Claude. “She might be the best one I’ve had yet.” His eyes slid back to Jason. “Keep her happy or I won’t be.”

Jason snorted. Like he was the one who made the assistants miserable. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“No. What I wanted to tell you was that I expect the scales on my desk in the morning.”

Jason’s anger returned full force. “And how do you think I’m going to make that happen? Just walk up to a lamai demon and ask them if they’ll hold still so I can pull a few scales off them? It’s not that easy. Not to mention I’m training yet another new assistant for your show.”

“Fortunately for you, Claudia seems like a fast learner.” Sloan brushed a piece of lint off the sleeve of his red velvet jacket. “How you get the scales isn’t my problem. Just make sure it gets done.” He turned on his heel and walked away, raising a finger in the air. “On my desk in the morning.”

Clenching his fists at his sides, Jason stared after him. “That stupid—”

“Everything okay?”

At the sound of Claude’s voice, he tried to regain his good mood. “It’s…nothing.”

She frowned. “It’s clearly something.” She looked in the direction Sloan had gone. “Is he unhappy with something I did?”

“No, it’s nothing to do with you. He wants me to do something for him that is next to impossible.”

Her hand found its way onto his arm, her touch warm and reassuring. “What is it? Maybe I can help? You’ve done so much for me today, I’d be happy to help you if I could.”

He growled softly, still glaring after Sloan. “That’s generous of you, but no. I’ll handle it myself.”

Using more strength than he would have guessed she had, she turned him to face her. “Hey, we have to work together. I don’t know what your relationship was like with Sloan’s other assistants, but this is a pretty complicated show that involves us being as in tune with each other as possible. Those lifts in the second half? In at least two of those, you could seriously injure me just by having your hand in the wrong place at the wrong time. I need to trust you just like you need to trust me.”

“I would never drop you.”

“Not even if you were distracted?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly and sighed. “What Sloan wants me to do is dangerous. Getting you involved would be stupid. There’s no reason for you not to trust me. I’m protecting you.”

She laughed. “Oh, Jason. That’s sweet, but I don’t need protection.” She held her hand up, and her fingernails morphed into two-inch-long claws. “I’ve got that handled.”

He paused. Even considering bringing her along was idiotic, but it would be nice to have her there. It would certainly be better cover to look like he was on a date at Hellhounds than going into the bar alone.

She poked his chest with a claw. “I know you’re thinking about it, whatever it is.”

“Are you always this persistent?”

“Are you always this hard to persuade?” She poked him again, frowning. “Wow, you weren’t kidding about having tough skin. You’re like a rock. Literally.”

He laughed. For someone he’d just met, he already liked her too much. “How are you at pretending to be someone’s girlfriend?”

She made a face. “You don’t mean for Sloan, do you? Because, no.”

“I meant for me.”

A sly smile erased her grimace. “I don’t think that would be too difficult.” A soft hum emanated out of her. “You’re not going to have the gun on you, are you?”

He shook his head. “No, I carry that only when I do security for Sloan. It’s another of his rules.”

She went back to smiling. “In that case, I’m in.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay, then. But I still have reservations about this.” He took a breath. She’d agreed to that pretty easily. “I need to go to a place called Hellhounds and pick something up for Sloan. Having a date with me would probably make things go a little smoother.” He hoped.

The hum got louder. “I know the place. Never been there, but I know it. What time?”

“Ten.” He leaned forward, listening more closely. “Are you…purring?”

The sound—and her smile—disappeared suddenly, then her face paled, only to instantly color the shade of Cristos’s crimson velvet coat. “What? No.” She spun around and started toward the setup for the next illusion.

He stood there and grinned. She had been purring. Wasn’t that a sign Claude liked him? Then he realized what he’d just roped her into, and the grin vanished. Hellhounds wasn’t a decent place, but he was going there on dangerous business. The first sign of trouble, and he’d have to get her out of there fast and without a scratch on her. And there was only so much he could do defensively without being able to shift into his true form.

Jason ground his teeth together. Claude might have a pretty set of claws, but there were far more dangerous creatures at that bar. If she got hurt, he’d never forgive himself for dragging an innocent woman into Sloan’s dirty dealings.

Nor would Sloan.

He was about to tell her to forget it when he turned and realized she was talking to someone on the other side of the stage, and the conversation sounded like it was getting a little heated. He jogged over to see what was going on.

Roxy, one of Sloan’s many ex-assistants, was now shouting at Claude. “You should know he’s a real ass.”

Claude, her voice just as calm as could be, seemed to be holding her own. “Sloan is an artist, and I realize they can be temperamental—”

“Temperamental? Is that what you—”

Jason jumped between them. “Roxy, what are you doing here? You don’t work here anymore.”

She hoisted a silver Spandex leotard and a pair of dance shoes. “I left some of my practice gear here.”

“And now you’ve got it, so you can go.”

“Oh, sure, protect her. Like I’m the one she should be worried about.” She looked around him at Claude. “He’s a terrible lay.”

Jason pointed toward the exit. “Out. Now.”

He didn’t turn to look at Claude until Roxy had left. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were rolled in like she was trying to suppress a smile. He realized how their exchange must have sounded. “She meant Sloan.”

Claude held up her hands, the twinkle in her eyes matching her now very visible smirk. “Hey, it’s none of my business.” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder toward the stage as she backed away. “I’m just going to walk through that last number one more time.”

“I never slept with her,” Jason yelled after her.

Shaking her head, she spun around and kept going. Jason’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t slept with Roxy, as much as she’d wanted him to. He had a strict rule about no sloppy seconds when Sloan had been there first, but he’d never cared what anyone thought about his extracurricular behavior.

Until now.

The day had been long but interesting, and Claude had made real steps toward her goal. Her phone vibrated. A text from Jason saying he was on his way to pick her up for their pretend date. They’d exchanged numbers before finally leaving rehearsal.

She put the phone down and picked up her brush. She smoothed her hair into place as she assessed the mission so far. The purring thing had worked like a charm, but then it rarely failed to get the desired response. Men read so much into it, and Jason was no exception. Except she wasn’t pretending that much with him. He was an easy guy to like, and she was beginning to think more and more that he wasn’t the bad guy the Boss thought he was.

Although, she’d been burned once by a guy she thought was decent. Actually, she’d thought he was the one. She’d given her heart to him, and he’d used it like a scratching post. As exes went, he was an award-winning loser, but Jason came off as so genuine. So real. Yes, he was hiding something, but it was more like he was trying to protect himself than keep something from her. Not like he was hiding the kind of secret that would end up hurting her. No, there had to be a good reason he was voluntarily doing Sloan’s dirty work.

Speaking of dirty work, she did really hope he hadn’t slept with Roxy. That was a visual she just didn’t need.

She’d find out more tonight about all of it. Whatever Jason was supposed to pick up at Hellhounds would be telling. If she had to guess, she’d say it was the payment for the Queen of Hearts.

She set the brush down and picked up her black eyeliner. Was Sloan’s empire in trouble? Could he need the money from the sale of that gem to keep things afloat? There were easier ways for a sorcerer of his caliber to get funds, though. She finished outlining her eyes and added a few sweeps of mascara.

Jason’s reluctance to run Sloan’s errand had been equal to his reluctance to let her tag along. Not exactly the MO of a thug. If anything, Jason seemed more like Sloan’s indentured servant than his willing henchman.

She slicked on a deep red lip stain, then stood and gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. Her littlest black dress and her highest black heels made for quite a combo. If Jason wanted her to pretend they were dating, she was about to show him just how good she was at make-believe. And hopefully make him forget they were pretending long enough that he shared the info she needed. She wasn’t sure what kind of tolerance gargoyles had for alcohol, but getting a few drinks into him probably wouldn’t hurt, either.

Her doorbell rang. She grabbed her clutch and went to answer it. She popped one hip to the side as she opened the door and got a good look at her new pretend boyfriend. “Well, hello there, handsome. Don’t you clean up nice?”

Jason in a suit was a beautiful thing to behold. The charcoal fabric did little to hide the body she’d seen on display earlier today, and his black shirt was open just enough to show off a sliver of his hard chest and the chiseled notch of his throat. Her tongue would fit perfectly there.

Pretend. Tonight was just pretend.

His mouth opened, but for a moment, nothing came out. “You, uh, look…wow. If this is you being a fake girlfriend, I can only imagine what the real thing looks like. You look good. Damn good.”

She held up her purse. “For real dates, I carry pepper spray.” She laughed, a little sad that the man she’d been tasked to Collect was so sweet. He wasn’t making her job any easier, but he was strengthening her resolve to find out the real story before she hauled him in. “Thanks for appreciating the effort. I’m ready, so…”

He held his hand out toward the sidewalk. “Let’s go then.”

She shut and locked her door, then stepped into rhythm beside him. Her heels clicked on the concrete.

He nodded as he looked her over again. “You smell really good, too.”

“Thanks. It’s catnip.”

His expression was total disbelief. “What?”

She laughed and poked his arm. Hard as a rock. “I’m kidding.”

He shook his head, smiling. “You’re goofy, you know that? It’s hard to believe you’re beautiful and funny. Sloan’s assistants are always beautiful, but most of them take themselves way too seriously.”

She cocked one shoulder nonchalantly. “Life’s too short not to have fun.”

“Life’s too short for a lot of things.” He leaned ahead to open the car door.

“Nice ride.” She hadn’t expected him to be in a Mercedes sedan.

He shrugged. “Don’t be too impressed. It’s a Sloan hand-me-down. And last year’s Christmas bonus, mostly because my old pickup truck didn’t suit his image. But it’s one of the few cars I fit into comfortably, so I kept it.”

“I can see how that would be tough for a guy of your size.” She slid into the car. It still smelled brand new. He got in the other side as she finished buckling her belt. “How tall are you?”

“Six-five.”

“I bet you played football in school.”

He started the car. “I did, until the third time a guy broke his collarbone running into me. After that, I stopped. It just wasn’t fair to the other players.”

She twisted in her seat so she could face him better. “I don’t know much about gargoyles. Are you really that hard?”

He snorted as he pulled out into the street. “That’s a loaded question.”

She laughed and covered her face with her hands, this time blushing for real. “That is not what I meant.” She slapped his shoulder. Hand, meet Brick Wall. “You’re not very well behaved, you know that?”

“You’re the one who wanted to date me.” His grin was utterly wicked. “Besides, you’re the one who just said life’s too short not to have fun.”

“You’ve got me there.” She matched his grin. “Come on, tell me about being a gargoyle.”

“I’m not sure what there is to tell. We can fly, have very tough skin, bones like steel and the ability to detect evil intentions.” He glanced over to wink at her. “And, yes, I guess you could say we’re hard all the time.”

“You’re awful.” She snickered, unable to help herself.

“And you’re laughing.”

She adjusted her position to stretch her arm along the console so that it ran alongside his. “Is it true you go to stone on the full moon?”

He nodded, eyes straight ahead and looking a bit more serious. “It’s our most vulnerable time.”

She tipped her head to the side. “One weakness for all those strengths isn’t too bad of a trade-off.”

“It’s not our only weakness.”

“What else is there?”

He shot a glance at her quickly before returning his eyes to the road. “Our keystone.”

“What’s that exactly?”

He let out a long, slow breath. “The keystone is a thin slab of stone that bears a maker’s mark. The first of our kind were chiseled from stone and brought to life with magic. The keystone connects every gargoyle to that heritage, and in that way, it’s the thing that connects us to our true form.” He shrugged. “Vampires have their coffins, sirens have their water, gargoyles have their keystones.”

“A siren without access to water will eventually die.”

“Good thing we’re born with our keystones attached to us.” He changed the subject to the show, and they talked about that until he finally pulled the car into the Hellhounds parking lot and backed into a spot. Easier for a fast getaway? He turned the car off and twisted to face her. “Whatever happens in there tonight, your safety comes first. Don’t worry about me, just get yourself out of the way of any danger.”

“What could—”

“This isn’t open to debate.” His eyes held a steely determination. “Promise me.”

“Okay, I promise.” Except that she didn’t. Her job came first. That’s what being a Collector—even a retired one—meant.

“Good.” He hopped out of the car and came around toward her door. The keystone thing was interesting and not something she’d ever really heard about, but she could understand his reluctance to share a potential weakness with anyone. Most supes were like that, and who could blame them? Being a supernatural often meant you had a lot of built-in enemies. Which made it all the more interesting that he’d shared as much as he had with her.

He opened her door, and she got out, slipping her arm through his rock-solid one. She gazed up at him, arching her brows. “Just so you know, this might be a pretend date, but I am not pretend drinking. That’s going to be all real.”

He laughed. The soft thump of a bass beat greeted them as they approached the entrance. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, you knocked it out of the park today at rehearsal. You’ve earned a drink.”

“Oh, I think I’ve earned more than one.”

Inside, the club had a good crowd of supernaturals of every description, some clearly showing off by displaying their fangs, claws and brightly colored eyes in half-form. Although, if humans wandered in, all they’d see were more humans. The only way a supe could hide their true appearance from another supe was with magic, sometimes called a glamour, unless they also had the ability to shift into a human form like she did, but even shifters could spot each other. “This place is a lot nicer than I anticipated.”

The bar top was a length of gorgeous mahogany with curved trim and a glassy finish. It fit beautifully with the rest of Hellhounds’s interior of dark leather, smoked mirrors and more polished wood. The warm, comfortable surrounds had the feel of an old-time men’s club but with a modern sophistication. She could see why supes flocked to this place. The vibe was cool, the pool tables were busy and the wait staff very attractive.

Jason leaned in, giving her a chance to enjoy whatever spicy cologne he’d spritzed himself with. “What would you like to drink?

“A glass of champagne.”

He smiled and raised his brows.

“What did you think I was going to order? A white Russian?”

Grinning, he pointed toward the bar. “They have catnip-infused vodka here.”

“What?” She turned to look.

He laughed out loud. “Just kidding.”

Rolling her eyes, she held up her hands. “Okay, you got me.”

He pointed to a small half-circle booth that was opening up. “You want to grab that for us while I get the drinks?”

“Sure.” Her heels went a long way toward eliminating the height difference. She leaned in and kissed him on the mouth, short and sweet. Unlike the rest of his body, his lips were deliciously soft. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her in shock.

She nuzzled his ear. Holy Bast, he smelled good. “This is supposed to be a date, remember?” She bit her lip to keep from biting him. “I just thought we should act like it.”

He nodded, a low gravelly sound rumbling out of him. “Good, uh, pretending.”

“Right. Just pretending.” She slipped away toward the table before he could say anything else, her heart racing a little. That reminder had been as much for her as it had been for him. Although she might have needed it more. She’d never fallen for a Collection. Ever. Mostly because there’d never been one worth falling for.

Until now.

For a moment, he forgot who he was, why he was standing there, and what he was supposed to be doing. All he could do was let the softness of her lips on his and the sensation of her breath on his neck wash over him until his pulse returned to normal and his brain found a way to function again. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?

He guessed she did. And didn’t care.

He made his way to the bar. Diesel, the head bartender and general manager, was on duty, as always. Diesel was a shifter. What kind was unclear, but it was rumored he turned into some kind of beast when the moon was full. Jason could relate, but Diesel still wasn’t someone Jason wanted to start trouble with. Hell, he didn’t want to start trouble with anyone. What he really wanted to do was forget the real reason he’d come here and enjoy an evening of Claude’s company instead.

Being around her made Sloan’s hold on him fade away, at least while he was in the moment. She made it easy to feel like a free man again.

He glanced at the table where she was sitting. Waiting for him. The men who passed her made no effort to hide their attraction. Why would they? She practically radiated sex. A second later, he realized he was growling.

“What can I get y—” The female bartender jerked back. “Whoa, relax, dude.”

He must have slipped into half-form, the best he could do without his keystone. He took a breath and willed that part of himself away. “Sorry about that.”

“Hey, I’ve seen worse in here. What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey neat and a glass of your best champagne.”

She nodded and went to fill the order. While he waited, he scanned the bar for a lamai demon and found a trio of them, all female, standing by one of the pool tables scoping out a small pack of fae males. With his target acquired, he felt a little better, but females weren’t going to be any easier to strip of their scales than males of the species were. Plus, females had a poisonous bite.

The bartender returned to take his cash and hand over the drinks. He dropped a tip, snagged the drinks and made his way back to Claude, who was currently being chatted up by an ice demon.

She beamed at Jason when he set the flute of champagne in front of her. “Thanks, honey. I missed you.” Then she slanted her eyes at the demon. “I told you I was with someone.”

The ice demon snarled and stomped off, leaving behind a small shower of snow flurries that melted into the air.

Jason stared after him. “Can’t say I blame you, buddy.” He turned to Claude. “You okay?”

“Fine. Nothing to worry about.” She sipped her champagne. Her eyes widened appreciatively. “Ohh, this is the good stuff.” She laughed. “You’re the best fake first date I’ve ever had.”

“You go on a lot of fake dates, do you?” He slid onto the booth beside her.

“No. And closer.”

“What?”

She gestured with her glass. “This is a date, not a business meeting. You’re all the way over there. Come closer.”

Trying not to laugh, he moved toward her until their knees bumped. “Better?” It certainly was for him.

“Mm-hmm.” She took another sip of champagne.

“So you’re bossy and persuasive.” And hot as hell. At that moment, being hard had nothing to do with being a gargoyle.

She raised her brows. “You act like you’ve never met a feline shifter before, and I know you have, because you said a lot of Sloan’s other assistants were.”

“True, but they weren’t anything like you. And speaking of, I swear on my keystone I never slept with Roxy. She did, however, find her way into Sloan’s bed about two days after she was hired. Which is also why she got fired. Way too clingy. The ones that think they’re going to become the next Mrs. Sloan never last.”

She looked over the rim of her glass at him. “Do most of his assistants sleep with him?”

“Sadly, yes.”

Her brows lifted slightly. “He’s going to be very disappointed in me then.”

“Not into powerful men with a ton of money?”

She shot him a look. “Not if they’re also overcompensating egomaniacs with God complexes.”

“This fake date just got even better.” With a wry smile, Jason lifted his whiskey. “Here’s to the power of make-believe.”

She clinked her glass against his, then drank. “So, since you brought the devil up, what are you here to get for Sloan? Do you need me to help you with that? Does he have you pick up stuff for him often?”

He almost choked on his drink. He added “direct” to her list of descriptors. “No, I don’t need your help.”

“So what’s the item?”

“It’s…” He sighed. Telling her meant revealing something he knew full well Sloan wouldn’t want revealed. But telling her felt right. Like they were part of a team. The last time he’d had a feeling even close to this was during his Special Ops days. “How well can you keep a secret?”

“Like a tomb.”

“Good.” He believed her. Another mouthful of whiskey burned its way down his throat before he answered, “I’m here to get an ingredient for a spell Sloan’s working on.”

“A new illusion?”

“Yes. Mostly.” Sloan had already ordered new props that would be part of his death illusion. What the audience wouldn’t know was that Sloan was actually dying in front of them, but with the mortality spell, he’d simply come right back to life. No doubt it would rocket the man to a new level of stardom. Making him even hungrier to top himself. Jason could only imagine what that would mean for him.

She leaned in, obliterating what little space there had been between them and giving him a generous peek into her cleavage. “Demon blood? Because I could take out that ice demon without feeling too bad.”

He slanted his eyes at her. “No. Nothing that…drastic. But close. He needs the scales of a lamai demon.”

She shifted, putting her shoulder against his. She scanned the bar over the rim of her glass. “Is there a lamai demon in here?”

“There are three of them over by the pool tables. The women with the mottled green skin and snake eyes.”

“Charming.” She downed a little more champagne. “What’s the plan? Grab a handful and run? Because if that’s the case, I probably shouldn’t have worn these heels.”

“I told you this wasn’t going to involve you, and no, that’s not the plan, because doing that will make Diesel very upset and probably get both of us banned from here for life. And I need at least one place where I can get away from Sloan.”

“You come here often?”

“Every once in a while.”

“Who’s Diesel?”

“See the big guy behind the bar?”

“Oh.” Her mouth rounded, then pulled to one side in a conspiratorial whisper. “That is one large individual.”

“Indeed.”

“Fortunately, his attention seems to be occupied by that pretty little brunette.” She put her flute on the table and sat back, crossing her arms under her chest in such a way that made her cleavage even more distracting. “If it’s not going to be a grab-and-dash, how do you plan on doing it?”

Therein lay the problem. “I haven’t really gotten that far.” Everything he’d come up with ended with him facing down Diesel’s wrath.

“Do you have to do stuff like this for Sloan all the time?”

He stared into the amber liquid in his glass. “More than I like.” Her gaze rested on him like the gentle pressure of a comforting hand.

Sympathy softened her voice when she spoke. “If you don’t like working for him, why do it? Why not quit? A guy like you could get a security job anywhere. I know people. I could talk to them about—”

“That’s sweet of you, but it’s not that simple.” He moved into the curve of the seat, putting a little distance between them so he could think about something other than her impressive assets.

“Life never is.” She shifted her gaze to Diesel. Then to the lamai. Then back to Jason. “I might have a plan.”

He was sure she did. “No.”

She slanted her eyes at him. “You have a better plan?”

He actually didn’t. “I’m guessing that no matter what I say, you’re going to tell me yours.”

“Yep.”

“I can’t wait.” He already knew he was in trouble, but damn, trouble had never been so persuasive. Or sexy. Or smelled so good.

She shimmied over to him until their arms touched from shoulder to elbow, then leaned in. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking…”

Claude knew what she was about to do meant breaking one of the most serious rules of Collecting. She was about to help someone slated for Collection commit an act punishable by Collection against another supernatural. It was like the perfect storm of things not to do while out on a job.

Problem was, she didn’t see any other way to fulfill her objective. Helping Jason grab a few scales off one of the lamai females would indebt him to her and make them cohorts against Sloan. There was no way he wouldn’t spill the truth about the Queen of Hearts after that.

And if all went according to plan, the only thing the lamai female would know was that she’d been in a catfight.

Literally.

The time for backing out was gone. She and Jason had given up their booth and separated. She’d found a spot at the bar where she could keep an eye on his progress while he went off with a pitcher of margaritas to woo the lamais and separate the most willing one from the rest of the herd.

From the looks of it, he had his pick. One of Claude’s canines stabbed her bottom lip, and she realized she’d started to slip into her half-form, something that happened only in cases of excess emotion. She shook herself and frowned. How could she be jealous? She’d known the guy only a day. A really long day. That they’d been together for all of. In very close contact.

She sighed out a soft curse. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t even in heat!

Another shifter moved into her line of sight and blocked her view. “Hey there.”

She stared at him with as much boredom as she could muster. Judging by his ’80s hair and creepy grin, she guessed he was hyena. “I’m with someone.”

“Really? Cuz you look awfully lonely.” The creepy smile got bigger. And creepier.

“And you’re going to feel awfully hurty if you don’t move on.”

“Aw, now, come on, is that any way to talk to the man of your dreams?” He laughed, a sound somewhere between a bray and a screech. Definitely hyena.

She flicked out a handful of claws and used one to tap his chest. “Look, dude, you’re punching above your weight class here. Move on and call it a win that all of your blood is still in your body.”

That took care of the creepy smile. He whined a curse and stormed off. She rolled her eyes and went back to watching Jason, who’d apparently made great strides if the lamai chick trying to wear him like a suit was any indication.

Claude tried to ignore how that felt, but the thought of grabbing the demon by her long blue-green hair and yanking her off Jason was too pleasurable to let go of. Besides, she might actually get to do it if things went according to plan. Good times.

Jason was whispering something in the woman’s ear that caused her to close her eyes and go a deeper shade of emerald. Shouldn’t be long now. And it wasn’t. Five minutes later, Jason and the lamai demon were headed out the door.

Claude had never wanted to break up a couple so badly, even though she knew Jason was just acting out his part. She forced herself to wait a few minutes, then dropped a couple bucks on the bar for the water she’d had and went out after them. The windows on the Mercedes were already steamed up. Maybe she’d waited too long. Jason really poured himself into his work. Or the lamai was trying to mark her territory.

Two could play that game.

Claude slipped off her heels and set them on the trunk with her purse before yanking the passenger door open. The lamai demon had her hands all over Jason. Claude shifted into her half-form without a second of hesitation, filled both clawed hands with the demon’s hair and pulled. “Get the hell off my boyfriend!”

The demon came out of the car snarling and spitting, her forked tongue lashing out at Claude. She was barely aware of Jason jumping out of the car. She raked her claws down the demon’s arm, sending scales flying while managing to hang on to a few.

“Ladies!” Jason tried to separate them, but managed only to push them farther between the cars when the lamai twisted away from him.

“If he’s your boyfriend, why was his tongue down my throat?” The lamai reared back, her fangs fully extended, and lunged for Claude.

Claude ducked, but the lamai was serpent-fast and whipped around for a second strike. Claude got in another swipe, this time across the lamai’s overexposed chest. Her claws raised long, red scratches that healed almost instantly. The lamai hissed and arched to strike again. Claude brought her hand up to guard her face, her fist full of scales. Any second now, Jason would shift and bring the hammer down on the lamai.

But a quick glance showed her he had his hands full with the lamai’s two demon girlfriends. They were snarling and clawing at him, one on his back and one at arm’s length. Once he shifted, they’d probably run like scared rabbits. A gargoyle could flatten a lamai in one blow.

The slip of concentration cost her. The lamai dodged Claude’s right hook. The demon’s fangs sank into her arm. Burning pain radiated from the bite. Claude jerked back and shoved her fist into the lamai’s throat, shutting the demon down as her access to air ground to a halt.

Claude staggered as she got upright again. Her vision dimmed at the edges. She heard Jason growl and what sounded like the crack of bone, then everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t in the parking lot. Or her own bed.

Her mouth was bone dry and tasted like she’d been sucking on a piece of metal. Her head throbbed, and fire danced up her arm and into the center of her chest. What little light filtered through the room’s blinds didn’t reveal anything that looked familiar. Large room, big bed, masculine décor, two possible exits, although she suspected one door led to a bathroom.

A familiar spicy cologne perfumed the sheets. She was in Jason’s bed.

She lifted her injured arm gently. A bandage covered the bite, and the acrid odor of poison wafted toward her, ruining the pleasantness of Jason’s scent. She started to bend her arm to see the bite better and nausea struck her in a hard wave.

Her mouth watered like she might vomit. She sucked in a deep breath. Wretched lamai. As soon as the nausea passed, she ran her other hand over her body. Her little black dress was still there, but her shoes were gone. She called out for Jason, her voice barely a mew.

The door opened a few seconds later, spilling light through the crack and outlining his large, muscular form. Concern furrowed his brow. “Good, you’re awake. How are you feeling? Can I get you something?”

“Not great. I take it I’m at your place? How long have I been out? Can you put a little light on?”

He came over and switched on the reading lamp on the nightstand. “Yes, you’re at my place. It was the closest. You’ve been out for a while. It’s almost four a.m. How do you feel?”

She shot him a look. “Like I was bitten by a lamai demon.”

“What can I get you?”

“Water.” She wanted to sit up, but knew better. Movement would only make the poison spread. Best to keep the suffering contained as much as possible. “What happened in the parking lot? I expected you to shift. Going full-on gargoyle would have scared that lamai off before she’d had a chance to bite me. You could have at least flown me to safety.”

Her only answer was a dark shadow of anger that covered his face as he disappeared into the other room. He returned a minute later with a glass of water and a straw. The anger had turned into something more like resignation. He sat on the side of the bed and helped her drink. “I’m really sorry about what happened to you. It’s my fault for letting you get involved.”

She sipped the water. It tasted like liquid bliss. “You didn’t answer my question about why you didn’t shift.”

“It’s…complicated.”

Wasn’t everything? What wasn’t he telling her? “Did we get the scales?” She went back for more water. She’d push him further on the not shifting thing when she didn’t feel like she could die at any moment.

He made a face. “Do you really care?”

“If I’m going to take a hit, I at least want the mission to be successful.”

He set the glass on the nightstand. “I’m not sure that what happened was a mission so much as a poorly conceived idea.”

“Did we get the scales or not?”

“Yes.”

The satisfaction gave her some relief. “Well, that’s something.” The nausea started to return. She exhaled slowly, trying to keep it at bay.

“You look a little green.”

Another slow exhale was followed by a wash of pain, making her suck in a ragged breath and moan. Holy Bast. Turning tiger and chewing off her arm was starting to sound like a good idea. “I’m fine.”

He scowled. “The hell you are. I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“There’s nothing a human hospital can do.” The burning in her arm traveled deeper into her chest, burrowing into her body like a living thing. It would pass in time, but maybe Jason didn’t know that. It gave her an idea. “I need access to a witch’s pantry.”

“I don’t know any witches.”

“Sloan’s a sorcerer. He must have a lab of some kind where he develops his illusions and spells.”

“He does. It’s part of his office in the penthouse.”

His response to what she was about to ask should prove whose side he was on. “Take me there.”

“Are you sure you should travel?”

“No, but he’ll have what I need to take care of this bite.”

Without hesitation, he yanked the covers back, slipped his arms under her and cradled her against the hard expanse of his chest. “Hang on. I’ll get you there as fast as I can.”

And he did. While she sprawled on the back seat of the sedan, aching from head to toe, he sped through the streets and into the parking garage of Sloan Tower. When he’d secured her in his arms again, he used his pass card to get them in the building and into Sloan’s penthouse headquarters.

He shouldered open the doors that led into Sloan’s private office and eased her onto the leather chaise. “After I break down the door to his workroom, the alarms will go off. Maybe you should tell me what you need now so we can do this as quickly as possible.”

The pain was a little easier to bear when she wasn’t moving. “You break down that door, and he’ll fire you.”

Jason snorted derisively. “No, he won’t.”

She raised her brows. “You can’t tell me there won’t be some kind of blowback.”

“He’ll be mad as hell. And will probably retaliate, especially because I took you along to Hellhounds in the first place, but all that matters is getting you better.” He seemed so resolved. “Now tell me what you need so we can do this fast.”

She grimaced. The pain was getting worse. After it peaked, it would subside, but getting to that peak wasn’t going to be fun. “How will he retaliate?”

“What does it matter? You’re in pain.”

She gritted her teeth. Sweat stuck her dress to her back. “Jason, what does he have over you? Tell me, and I’ll give you the list of things I need.”

“Stubborn…you’re the one in pain here, not me.” He shook his head and glanced toward the window for a second before returning his attention to her. “He has my keystone.”

The shock of that information replaced her pain for a brief second. “How on earth did he get it?”

Jason obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but his grimace was enough of an answer. Whatever had happened had not been pleasant.

She let it go. “No wonder you didn’t shift when we were at Hellhounds. You can’t. You can’t fly, either, then, can you?”

Looking at him, she knew he couldn’t. His body had gone so rigid she was afraid he might snap a tendon. Anger radiated off him. No wonder. He must feel like he’d just confessed to being half a man.

“Not being able to protect you…” His voice trailed off, but the emotion in his eyes made it clear how he felt.

A new hurt bloomed inside her, one that had nothing to do with the demon’s bite. For both their sakes, she changed the subject. “When you say he’ll retaliate, what do you mean?”

Jason finally spoke. “He’ll break the keystone. He’s been threatening to anyway.”

The depth of Sloan’s evilness suddenly became clear. “It’s how he controls you.”

He clenched his fists tighter, whitening the skin around his knuckles. “Yes. And if he destroys it, I become an ordinary man.”

The kiss of death for any supernatural, especially one with the power of flight. It would be like clipping the wings of a bird of prey. She tilted her head to see him better, sending new ripples of pain through her body. “He won’t destroy it just because you helped me. Not when you remind him he needs me whole for the show tonight and this was the only way to do it. Where does he keep the keystone?”

“The vault at his house.”

She tried to sit up a little and grunted in pain. Moving was a bad idea. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’ve seen it.”

“When you delivered the Queen of Hearts to him?” The edges of her vision were starting to dim, and the fire that had been contained in her arm was spreading. The poison was working its way through her system.

Jason stared at her, a thousand questions shining in his eyes. “How do you know about that?”

She closed her eyes, exhausted and on the verge of passing out. “I need nightshade, blessed thistle and holy salt. Crush them together in a mortar then add enough dhamphir tears to make a paste and bring it to me. If I’ve already passed out when you get back, smear the paste on the bite, then cover it back up with the bandage and get us the hell out of here.”

A strange tinny hum began to drown out all other sounds. Even her speech seemed like it was coming from a great distance. “Everything else can wait.”

Jason kicked open the doors to Sloan’s private work space, blowing out the lock and hurling shards of wood into the air. He might not have been able to protect Claude at the bar, but he sure as hell could help her now. He ransacked the shelves for the ingredients she needed. Thankfully, Sloan’s obsessive behavior meant everything was alphabetized.

Jason threw the ingredients into the mortar, crushed them like she’d told him to, then added the dhamphir tears. When it looked like swamp mud, he ran back to her side. “This stuff doesn’t smell so…Claude?”

She was out cold. He undid her bandage, slathered the stuff on her skin and bound the wound up again. Before he could get her into his arms, his phone went off. He already knew who it was. “Tennant.”

“The alarm is going off in my office,” Sloan barked. “Get the hell down there and take care of whoever is breaking into my—”

“I’m already here. I’m the one that set it off. Claudia insisted on going with me to Hellhounds, and she ended up getting bitten by the lamai demon. I got the scales you wanted, though.”

“Why in the hell did you take her?”

“She insisted on going, and you told me to keep her happy.”

Sloan went quiet for a second. “And why did this result in my private work space being broken into?”

“To get the ingredients to keep her from dying. And so she can perform in tonight’s show, which I believe you need her for.”

“A lamai bite won’t kill her. In time, she’d heal.”

“In time for your show?”

More silence. “No.” He made some kind of unhappy noise. “Whatever damage you did is coming out of your pay. And you better have kept the reason for those scales to yourself.”

Jason hung up. She’d been right about Sloan and the keystone. He lifted her into his arms. Her head lolled back, but her lids fluttered. “Claude?”

No response. Still out cold. As gently as possible, he got her downstairs, into his car and back to his house. He returned her to his bed and sat on the floor beside her with his back against the nightstand. The watery light of early dawn filtered in around the edges of the curtains.

How had she known about the Queen of Hearts? Stealing that had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but Sloan hadn’t given him a choice. Unless you considered having his keystone destroyed a choice. And so he’d done it, but it hadn’t been easy. Breaking a rule like stealing from another supernatural made him a candidate for Collection, not to mention a guy his size wasn’t cut out for jobs that required stealth. Sloan knew that, too, so he’d concocted a potion for Jason that had given him the brief ability to become smoke.

Using that temporary power, he’d accessed the private gallery housing the ruby, unlocked the vault from inside and made off with it.

And then he’d been so sick he’d nearly died, a side effect of the smoke potion Sloan had failed to explain ahead of time.

If Claude knew about the necklace, what else did she know? Was that why she was here? To recover the stone? To bring him to justice?

He sat up a little straighter. Was Claude a Collector?

Hard to believe she might, in essence, be the enemy. That she might have been playing him this whole time. He turned his head to look at her. She was about as vulnerable as any supernatural could be right now. Asleep and battling a vicious poison.

Enemy or not, he couldn’t change the way he’d begun to feel about her. And right now, he just wanted her healed. If that meant he had to face the consequences of what he’d done, so be it. She was just doing her job, right? He’d take Sloan down with him, too. Creating an immortality spell wasn’t illegal, but it was gray magic. The kind of thing that required a license and fees and all sorts of paperwork that Sloan would want to avoid because he couldn’t afford to make what he was doing public.

Claudia shifted, moaning softly. Her arm splayed out from her body so that her hand dangled off the bed a few inches from his face. He lifted his hand, touching his fingertips to hers. She was burning up, a sure sign her body was fighting the poison. He meshed his fingers with hers. He couldn’t believe this woman was the enemy. He just couldn’t. “Hang on, baby. You’re gonna get through this. Then you can explain everything.”

She twitched, and a guttural snarl rumbled out of her. Her nails turned into long, thick claws. They dented the skin on the back of his hand as they grew, but didn’t puncture the flesh. They couldn’t. But if he’d been human, his hand would have been a bloody rag by now.

The same kind of vulnerable he’d be if Sloan destroyed his keystone.

She twitched again, and soft stripes appeared on her skin. He knew she was about to shift—most shifters healed better in their true forms—but those stripes should be spots. He let go of her hand and got to his feet. When he turned to check on her, Claude was gone. A six-hundred-pound tiger had taken her place. Where the hell was her leopard form?

He backed up. “Good thing that bed was built for a gargoyle or you’d be buying me a new one.”

The tiger’s lip curled as it growled, and one giant paw struck out, slicing the sheets into ribbons, then the big cat lay still. After a few minutes, the beast began to snore. Jason took a seat in his desk chair. It was a safe distance away. An hour later, Claude had reappeared. She blinked and looked around, finally finding him.

He stayed where he was. “How are you feeling now?”

“Much better.” She pushed onto her elbow, staring at the tattered bedclothes. “I take it I went into my half-form?”

“Oh no, you did better than that.”

She grimaced. “Sorry about that. I’ll get you new sheets. I owe you a lot more than that anyway.”

He got to his feet. “Yes, you do. Why don’t you start with the truth?”

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

He moved to lean against the closed bedroom door. “For starters, you told me you were a leopard shifter, but a tiger showed up in my bed, and while I wish I was talking metaphorically, I’m not. I don’t know of any feline shifter who can take on more than one species. What are you? And how did you know about the Queen of Hearts?”

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, shaking her head softly.

“Tell me the truth, Claudia. If that is your real name. Are you here to Collect me?”

The pain in her arm was gone, but a new ache had begun in her soul. “I’m not going to cause you any trouble—”

“Any more trouble, you mean?” The look on his face was so dark, so full of mistrust, she felt like she’d broken something. Something valuable.

“My name is Claudette Marchon. I really do go by Claude.”

He snorted in disgust. “So your name’s almost the same. How much did you have to study to learn all that staging?”

She untangled herself from the torn sheets and sat up. “I was a showgirl. I headlined at the Silver Slipper for four years.”

“And now you’re a Collector.”

She stared at his feet. “No. And yes.”

“Which is it?”

“I was a Collector after I retired from the stage. It was a great job, but I stayed on only until I had enough money to open my own business. I own The Gem Exchange downtown. It’s a pawnshop, but I specialize in estate jewelry.” She glanced at him.

That seemed to pacify him a little. His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think Collectors ever retired.”

“Most don’t. If you like adventure and money, it’s a sweet deal, but I’d always had other plans. Still, when I retired, it was with the stipulation that they could bring me back if they needed me for a special job.”

“And I’m a special job?” He crossed his arms.

She nodded, her gaze back on the floor. “Yes. You are.”

“If I’m supposed to be flattered, I’m not. I can see why they wanted to keep you. You’re really talented. In less than twenty-four hours, you already had me falling for you. I’ve never met a woman who could put on that kind of show.”

“It wasn’t a show.” She made eye contact with him again, hoping he’d see the sincerity in her gaze. “I really do like you. Which is why I decided to find out your whole story before I took you in. The fact that you don’t like Sloan helped me get there, too.”

“He’s made me his prisoner.” He came toward her a few steps, uncrossing his arms to clench his fists at his sides. “Did you know Sloan has my keystone?”

“No, but after knowing you for just a few hours, you didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d willingly commit Collection-worthy acts for that idiot. I knew he had to be pressuring you with something. I just had no idea how big a something.” She slid her legs out from the covers and eased her feet to the floor. “Look, I’m not the bad guy. I’m really not. In fact, I want to try to get your keystone back from Sloan.”

“Technically, that would be breaking a rule. You might end up getting Collected yourself.”

She pursed her mouth and stood to face him, still a little weak but determined to make this hulk of a man understand she was on his side. “I already broke a rule helping you get those scales from the lamai. Sloan’s the one who needs to be Collected, and that’s the honest truth, my hand to Bast. I want to take him down, not you. In fact, I think you’d make a great Collector, and I’d be willing to sponsor you if that sounds remotely interesting.”

He just stood there, staring at her, stone-faced and blocking the door with his massive body, like he had no idea how much she wanted to kiss him and say she was sorry, but clearly that wasn’t going to help the situation.

He didn’t respond, so apparently the idea of him being a Collector wasn’t such a hot one. She blew out a breath, steadying herself. “Anyway, I’ve got a plan to get your keystone and the ruby back while taking care of Sloan at the same time.” He still hadn’t said a word. She lifted her chin. “I know you’re mad, but if that’s not enough proof that I’m on your side, I don’t know what else I can do.”

He looked like he might break something. Or yell. Or—

He cupped her face, planted his mouth on hers and kissed her hard. The kiss was angry but relieved, and it softened almost instantly into the kind of heated insistence that dispelled every thought in her head except for one: She had to save this man.

Because, Bast help her, she wanted to keep him.

Jason broke the kiss, not ready to let her go, but not sure he had enough control to keep from going further. He bent his head to touch his forehead to hers. “You lied to me—”

“I had no choice,” she whispered. “Besides, you kissed that lamai demon.”

“She kissed me. And it was part of your plan, remember?” He exhaled. “Are there any more lies between us?”

“No.”

“Anything else I don’t know that I should?”

She turned away and sighed. “I’m not just a shifter.”

He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “I figured that out already.”

“I’m a special type of shifter. I can take on any cat form and one other.”

He waited. “Which is?”

She licked her bottom lip, almost distracting him. “Something I don’t share. It’s nothing bad or anything I’d use against you, but it’s one I prefer to keep private. I’ve already told you more than most people know. Please, trust me on this and let me keep this one piece of information to myself.”

He frowned. He didn’t like it, but he understood by the glimpse of pain in her eyes that now was not the time to push her. “For now I’ll agree to that.” He sighed. Wasn’t like he could force her to tell him. Well, he could, but he’d decided a long time ago that he’d never use his interrogation skills on a woman. “What’s your plan to get my keystone and the ruby back?”

“I need to make a call first to see if it’s even viable. If it is, then I’ll explain it all on the way to wherever Sloan is, because we’re going to need to start there. With him.”

“I suppose you want privacy for the call.” He started for the door.

“I don’t care if you hear it.”

“Really?” That was surprising.

“There’s just one thing.”

He knew there’d be a catch.

She held her hands out. “I have no idea where my purse is, and my phone’s in it. Please tell me I didn’t leave it at Hellhounds.”

He choked out a laugh. “No, I got it. Hang on.” He retrieved her clutch from where he’d dropped it with her shoes on the couch and brought the purse in to her. “Listen, I’m going to grab a shower in here.” He tipped his head toward the master bath. “Make your call. Tell me what you think I need to know when I get out. I trust you.”

She smiled. “Thanks. That means a lot, considering. I really appreciate that.”

He nodded and left her alone as he shut the bathroom door behind him. Did he trust her? She had shared a lot with him, and the circumstances being what they were, he could understand that doing so might put her in a tough spot. Based on that, extending her some trust wasn’t the hardest thing to do.

He threw a towel over the glass shower door. He couldn’t imagine her bosses would be pleased that she’d told him so much when he was the one she’d been tasked to Collect.

Damn Sloan and his immortality spell.

Jason shook his head as he leaned into the shower and cranked on the hot water. Sloan had stripped his freedom and made his life miserable. The only good thing Sloan had done lately was hire Claude. But that had probably all been orchestrated by her handlers. He yanked off his T-shirt and stepped out of his track pants, then stood beneath the steaming spray. He let it beat down on him, the heat almost washing away the stress of the evening.

What really did the trick was the thought of having his keystone back, of not only being able to shift into his true form, but of being able to take to the skies in flight again. Some supes liked a good long run, some a couple rounds of intense sparring, but gargoyles had a thing for flying. Maybe it had something to do with the dichotomy of being made of stone and yet being able to get airborne that made it so enjoyable. Whatever the reason, being earthbound for so long had seriously messed with his general happiness.

He soaped up, then rinsed. Maybe after this was all over, Claude would like to go for a little night flight. See the Strip the way it was meant to be seen. That kept him smiling as he dried off, then wrapped the towel around his hips and opened the door to the bedroom to get some clothes.

As he did, he realized she was still on the phone. Her back was to him.

“You promise you’ll get someone there? Good. Mm-hmm. Headed there shortly. If something changes, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, assume we’re a go. I’ll text specifics. Yes. Yes. No answer.” She sighed. “No answer to that either, because it’s none of your business. No, I’m not in over my head. I did you a favor by taking this job. Don’t make me regret that.”

He stayed by the door, not exactly eavesdropping, but not exactly announcing himself, either.

“Maybe I don’t care if you pull my license. There’s a bigger picture here. One I’m going to make you see. Just give me this chance and—yes, I know. You can’t—that isn’t—” She sighed. “If this doesn’t work, I lose. I got that. Thanks. Way to repay my loyalty.” The sound of a beep followed, then she muttered something he couldn’t quite make out but sounded like she was disparaging someone’s maternal lineage.

He rapped his knuckle on the doorframe. “Everything okay?” But he already suspected it wasn’t.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her frustrated gaze fixed on the phone in her hand. “Bureaucracy. I guess every job has it, huh?” Then she inhaled and raised her head, her mouth bending in a little halfhearted smile that froze in place as she looked at him. Her gaze didn’t stay on his face for long. “You, uh, need some clothes, huh?” She bit her bottom lip, apparently unable to change her line of sight, which seemed to be stuck on his chest. Or maybe a hitch lower.

He grinned. “You know, you’ve already seen me in my stage costume. This isn’t that much different.” He walked halfway into the room.

She cleared her throat softly. “Oh, I’d say this is…very different.”

Grinning, he turned his back to her as he pulled open a dresser drawer.

The hiss of her breath startled him. “Is that scar from where your keystone should be?”

He lifted his head, thinking for a moment. “The one on my shoulder blade? No, that’s from a fight with my brother when I was thirteen.” He laughed at the memory. “I earned that one. Never take on a gargoyle who’s seven years older and a hundred pounds heavier than you, even if he tells the girl you like you’ve got a crush on her.”

Claude laughed. “That’s a promise I can make. So the scar on your side—is that where your keystone should be?”

“Nope. That was earned during my first tour in Afghanistan. Apparently, shrapnel from an IED at close range is one of the few things that can penetrate gargoyle skin, outside of another gargoyle.” With his back still to her, he dropped the towel, enjoying her sudden intake of breath, and tugged on his jeans.

She was flushed when he turned around. She wound her fingers in the ribbons of sliced-up sheets as though it was the most interesting thing she’d done all day. “Remind me where your keystone should be. Does not having one leave a mark?”

“Yes. But it’s only visible during the full moon. When we turn to stone, it appears as a small slab of stone we rest on. The position is different for every gargoyle. Some have both feet on theirs, some a knee and a hand. For me, it was one foot.” He sat beside her on the bed and crossed his right foot over his left knee to show her the sole of his foot where gnarled red welts marked him from heel to toes. “See how the skin looks burned?”

She nodded and made a face. “Does it hurt?”

“It aches during the full moon.” He put his foot back on the floor.

She hesitated, her fingers twisting in the sheets again. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I can’t help but wonder how—”

“Sloan took it from me?”

She nodded.

He sighed long and hard. “During a full moon.” He shifted uncomfortably. He’d never told anyone how he’d lost his keystone. “It’s the only time gargoyles are vulnerable. The only time that could ever happen.”

She pointed at the floor. “He broke in here?”

“No, I lived somewhere else then.” A dump. And the only place he’d been able to afford after he’d gotten out of the service. “I’d just started working for him in the show. He’d hired me because he needed a guy my size to do the lifts with his assistant and muscle the props on and off the stage. It wasn’t anything I’d ever done before, but the money was great. The whole gig was going pretty good, then three shows in, the pyrotechnics in the last act triggered some…stuff for me and—”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Those flash pots sound just like mortars.” He went silent as he relived that night and the memories it stirred up, but since Sloan had fixed him, those memories no longer held the power to cripple him. If only he could get rid of the nightmares, too.

He was glad she couldn’t see his eyes. “Reminded me of my Special Ops days and some of the fire we took. It was too much. I told him I quit. He didn’t want to let me. Made me tell him what was going on, then he told me he could fix all that. Make it so my triggers disappeared.”

Jason shook his head, the muscles in his jaw tightening. “I was desperate. Sloan paid well, and I needed the job. I let him hypnotize me.” He barked out a harsh laugh. “He got rid of my triggers all right. But he also stole my keystone.” He stood, pacing to the other side of the room as he tried to shed some of the anger coursing through him. “I was an idiot to let anyone near me during the full moon. I have no doubt that getting me to shift and then stealing my keystone was one of the easiest tricks Sloan ever pulled off.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s just awful.”

He stole a look at her, relieved the glimmer in her eyes was anger and not pity.

She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “How long ago was that?”

“Two years. Two years of being Sloan’s prisoner. I am so tired of being trapped by that piece of…” Jason forced himself to calm down. Getting angry would only make him want to shift, something that was currently impossible. He blew out a hard breath and shoved a hand through his hair, tired of the memories. Worn down by the reality.

“So now you know.” He changed the subject before she could ask more questions he couldn’t bear to answer. “How was your phone call? Other than the bureaucracy, did it go okay?”

She nodded, looking down at her hands again. “I guess. They’re giving me one shot to make this all come together.”

“And if it fails?”

She laughed, a sad, bitter sound that dug into him like a blade. “Then they’re sending in a new Collector.” She glanced at him. “To bring us both in.”

He’d heard the Collection agency was ruthless. That proved it. “Let me throw a shirt and shoes on, then I’ll run you by your place for a change of clothes, and we’ll head to Sloan’s. You can fill me in on this plan.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “We are not going to fail. I’m going to make damn sure of that.”

By the time they reached Sloan Tower, Claude’s confidence was back. Jason hadn’t held her lies against her and, for a guy with so much stacked against him, he gave a pretty good pep talk. Plus, he was willing to let her lead, something most alpha male types like him usually struggled with.

They walked into Sloan’s main office together. Sloan was at his desk, poring over the same ancient spell book. He closed it as they stopped in front of him. “What are you two doing here?” He looked at Claude. “Shouldn’t you be resting? If you’re well enough to be here, you’re well enough to be in the show.”

She smiled sweetly. “I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, and of course, I’m going to be in the show. I’m looking forward to it.”

Sloan relaxed like he’d been expecting a different answer.

Jason held his closed hand over the desk, loosening his fingers enough to let a stream of lamai scales trickle onto Sloan’s book.

Sloan scowled. “Not in front of her.”

Jason scowled right back. “She knows what you sent me to Hellhounds for. I told you she helped me get them. That’s how she got bitten.”

Claude held her smile. “I like my new job. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it.” She traced the edge of Sloan’s desk with her finger. She’d warned Jason in the car that she planned to flirt with Sloan if and when necessary to ensure they had the upper hand. “In fact, I’d do whatever it took to cement my position here.”

Sloan’s scowl faded. His curiosity was definitely piqued. “Like what?”

She shrugged coyly. “It seems to me a sorcerer of your obvious talents probably needs interesting ingredients like this on a regular basis. Ingredients that might not always be the easiest to come by. Or the most legal.”

“And this concerns you how?”

She tapped her finger on the gleaming wood and stuck her lower lip out in a half-pout. “I was a bad girl. I left a few things out on my résumé. One of which was the time I spent as a go-between for someone who supplies the kinds of goods you might be looking for.”

Sloan’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you know anyone like that? You were a showgirl.”

She matched his gaze with one just as serious. “Do you have any idea what that life is like? How hard it can be to make weigh-in without a little help? How tough it is to stay young and beautiful? To act like you’ve had hours of sleep and recovery when in fact you spent the night entertaining some whales the casino owner insisted you make nice with? Or maybe you lost sleep trying to learn the new routine your choreographer dropped on you at the last minute.” She laughed. “You haven’t seen magic until you’ve been backstage at a revue.”

“So you have a connection for glamour and energy charms.” Sloan scoffed. “Those are hardly made from the kind of ingredients I use.”

She studied her fingernails. “I know you’re working on a spell. Give me a shot at the next ingredient.”

He laughed loudly. “Oh, that’s rich. You have no idea what you’re asking.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Give her a try.”

Sloan stared at Claude for a long moment without saying anything. “What’s in this for you?”

“I told you, I want to secure my position in the show.”

Sloan snorted. “I find it hard to believe that’s all you want.”

“I want my name added to the marquee.”

He rolled his eyes. “I knew it.” He shook his head like she’d asked him for the moon. “Never going to happen. Tell you what, I’ll give you a chance to get the stuff I need. You make it happen, I’ll give you a fifteen percent raise. That’s a decent sum. But when you fail, I want something from you.”

“I won’t fail, so go ahead, name your price.”

He smiled. “You want your place in the show secure? When you fail, you’ll sign a blood contract. Or this ends now.”

A blood contract would mean Sloan owned her. She’d be in the same place Jason was, forced to work for the rest of her life for a man who had only his best interests at heart. She almost shivered, but managed to hold on to her composure by reminding herself that if this mission failed, Sloan would be the least of her worries. “Fine.”

Sloan dropped into his desk chair like he’d just won the Lucky Seven jackpot. “Tell your contact I need dragon’s bone. An ounce—no, make it two.”

Jason sucked in a breath. “That’s a banned substance, you son of a—”

“No problem,” Claude said. “My source can handle that.” She hoped. Dragon’s bone was an extremely rare and dangerous element. Sloan might as well have asked for unicorn horn. That was probably next on his list.

“Good.” Sloan couldn’t keep the sparkle out of his eyes. “Tonight, after the show. We’ll meet right here.”

“No.” She shook her head. “The meet needs to be private and not in town. My contact is very particular about where exchanges take place.”

Sloan frowned. “Where then?”

She shrugged and looked at Jason. “I guess we could drive into the desert…”

“Like hell,” Sloan spat. “I’m not meeting some shady character in the middle of the wastelands.” He stood up and jabbed his finger onto the desk top. “My house. An hour after the show. Jason can drive you. He’s been there. Then he can act as my security as well.”

She held her hands up. “I’m not sure my contact will meet at your—”

“He will or the deal’s off and you and I are done.” Waves of energy sluiced off Sloan, causing the lights to flicker. “Leave me. I have to prepare for the show. Something you two better do as well. If tonight’s performance isn’t amazing, my little Claudia, we might be done anyway.”

The second Jason shut his car door, he turned to Claude. “You did it.” She was amazing. He’d never seen Sloan handled so well.

She barely smiled. Nerves bracketed her mouth. “All I did was set up the meet in the right place. There’s a lot that still has to happen. Like the show.”

“You’re going to be fine.” He started the car. “I can’t believe your guy can get dragon’s bone.”

She sighed. “I have no idea if he can or not, but there was no point in letting Sloan know that.” She pulled out her phone and started texting. “Really, it doesn’t matter. The whole point of setting up the deal is to get us into Sloan’s house so we can access his vault.”

“How is accessing Sloan’s vault going to happen, exactly? Because if I thought I could break into that vault, I would have done it years ago.”

She finished her text, then gave him a thoughtful look. “Sloan’s going to open it for us.”

“He is.”

“Mm-hmm.” She tipped her head toward the street. “We really should get to the theater.”

Jason shook his head. “Not until you fill me in on this whole plan. I’m a part of this now, and my neck’s on the line as much as yours is, so I deserve to know.”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, obviously trying to decide what to tell him. “I agree with you. You deserve to know.”

“But you still don’t want to tell me. Why? Is this some Collector secret?”

She sighed and stared at her hands, smiling ruefully. “Funny.”

“What is?”

“It’s been a long time since I cared what a man thought of me, but that’s where I’m at now.” She glanced up at him, a strange light shining in her eyes, and for a second, he saw an unbelievable amount of pain etched on her face. Then she laughed harshly, and the emotion disappeared behind a hard mask. “I believe my plan will lead him to open the vault on his own, but if it doesn’t, I’m going to give Sloan no option but to open the vault.”

“There’s always another option.”

“Not if he wants to live.” She turned away from him and stared blankly toward the street. “I know you want to talk about this, but I really need to concentrate on the show.”

Realizing that was the end of the conversation whether he wanted it to be or not, Jason pulled onto the street and drove them to the theater. They parted ways inside, each to their own dressing rooms, but he couldn’t stop thinking about their exchange. Whatever had happened to her had clearly left her with some emotional scars. It made him angry that some man had hurt her, his beautiful, fierce Claude. Although Jason hadn’t really earned the privilege to call her his, and the way things were going, he might never.

But the possibility that he could, that he might have the chance to have a woman like Claude at his side, as his partner, filled him with the same heady thrill as soaring through the open sky. She was as amazing to him as diving toward the earth at breakneck speed, as beautiful as a moonrise glimpsed from eight thousand feet and as intoxicating as the sun’s warmth on his cold, stone heart.

As he pulled on his costume, he realized he’d only begun to get to know her, but he already couldn’t imagine her not in his life. Whatever pain she’d experienced, whatever hurt some idiot had caused her, he wanted to be the man to make her forget. To give her a reason to take a chance on love again.

Love. The word made him smile. It wasn’t an emotion he’d ever thought he’d feel, not trapped in his current life. Who could love half a man?

He finally ran into Claude backstage a few minutes before the performance began. He pulled her into a secluded spot, away from the crew doing their last-minute rigging and lighting checks. “Hey, about the conversation in the car—”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” She started back toward her entrance mark.

Holding her in place, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. She stiffened at first, then slowly relaxed into him. At that moment, he broke the contact, but kept her close. “I’m not him.”

She blinked up at him. “Who?”

“Whoever it was that hurt you.”

Memories shone in her gaze, and she tried to look away. “That’s over. Completely.”

“Good. Because I want you to forget all about him. I want you to give us a chance.”

Seconds ticked by before her eyes returned to him. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

He kissed her once more, lightly, then dropped his hands. “Maybe not, but I’m ready to find out.”

She snorted softly, but stayed where she was. “You say that now.”

“I will always say that.”

The light in her eyes grew cold again, and he knew the only man she could see was the one who’d hurt her. “Really? Even when I have to…kill someone in front of you?” Her voice dropped to a soft, deadly whisper. “I am a Collector. Retired means nothing when I’m called in. Then the job supersedes all else. So whatever idea you have in your head about me, whatever feathery, showgirl fantasy you’ve concocted, it’s not who I am. I am a Collector. That means I do whatever it takes to accomplish the mission I’ve been tasked with, even spilling blood.”

Jason narrowed his gaze. “You know what that man has done to me. You think I’d have a problem with you spilling that man’s blood if that’s what it takes to put some fear into him?”

She shook her head sadly. “Not a problem with me doing it to him, but what about when it comes to someone you don’t have that kind of animosity for?”

“I am descended from a line of creatures meant to guard against evil.”

She nodded, her voice still soft. “I know. That’s what worries me.” She looked away. “There are things Collectors have to do sometimes…things that are more gray than black or white. Right or wrong is sometimes less important than getting the job done.”

With one finger, he turned her face toward him. “You know a little of my history, that before my indentured servitude to Sloan, I was Special Forces. That past alone is enough to make me understand. I have skeletons in my closet I pray no one ever sees. You’re not going to scare me away if you suddenly go all tiger warrior princess on me.”

“That’s not really the side of me I’m worried about you seeing.”

If this was in reference to the other form she could take, he couldn’t imagine what that might be. But he knew it didn’t matter. “Whatever side of you I see, it doesn’t change who you are.”

Hope filled her eyes. “You do get it, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I do. Give me a chance, okay? That’s all I’m asking. A chance.”

“Okay.” Her smile rewarded him. “Just one more thing.”

“What’s that?” The urge to kiss her, to do more than kiss her, almost made him forget they were about to go onstage.

She stuck her finger in his chest. “Don’t get caught up in thinking about the plan. If you drop me during the show, you’ll see tiger warrior princess a lot sooner than expected.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him. “If you’re trying to turn me on—”

The stage manager cleared his throat as he approached them. He tipped his head toward the curtain, his face stern. “On your marks, Ms. Smith, Mr. Tennant. We have a show to put on, in case you’d forgotten.”

Jason stepped firmly onto his mark, glaring at the man. “Not a chance.”

“Ready to go.” Claude moved to her place, looking slightly embarrassed. She adjusted her costume as the stage manager walked away.

Jason snorted. “Didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”

She looked up through her lashes, eyes sparkling, and stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re clearly broken up about it. Are you sure you’re not the reason Roxy got fired?”

“You’re the first assistant I’ve made out with. I swear. Although, if you don’t want me, maybe I could dig up Roxy’s number…”

“Brat.”

He grinned. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bantered with a woman the way he did with Claude. It filled him with a rare sense of lightness.

Her mouth bunched to one side like she was fighting the urge to laugh. Before she could answer him, the show music swelled and the stage lights exploded.

She winked at him. “Here we go.” And then, like a switch had been flipped, she became a showgirl. Head high, smile bright, she lifted her hands and pranced onto the stage. Jason peered through the curtains at the first few rows of the audience. Sloan might be the show’s main attraction, but right now, all eyes were on Claude.

And he completely understood.

Claude ran off the stage to the familiar sound of applause. The show had gone perfectly, each illusion garnering the full attention of the audience, which had hung on Sloan’s every word and flourish. There was no way the man couldn’t be happy with the performances she and Jason had turned in.

Sloan walked off behind her.

“Great show, Cristos.”

He nodded thoughtfully. A stagehand ran up with a chilled goblet of the imported water he favored. He took a sip before answering. “Yes, it was. You did well.” Something dark glittered in his eyes. “I expect you will not disappoint me later, either. I would hate to have to find a new assistant.”

If he meant to threaten her, he’d missed the mark by a mile. Being back onstage was fun, but that life was behind her. “But if I fail and sign the blood contract, you’ll have an assistant for life.”

He laughed. “Oh, dear sweet Claudia. That contract ensures only that you belong to me, not that you’ll be on my stage.” His gaze swept the length of her body. “There are other ways you can, and will, serve me.”

She barely controlled her gag reflex. “Well, I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed this evening. My contact is as good as I am.” She grabbed a towel from a nearby rack and dabbed at the sweat on her temples. Eager to get away from the man, she backed toward the dressing room. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

He nodded, waving her off.

She hustled into the dressing room, changed into the street clothes she’d brought and was just about to text Jason when her phone vibrated with a text from him.

Waiting by the exit. You were great tonite.

Smiling, she texted him back. You too. On my way. Despite her history with men, she realized she was not only ready to give this one a chance, but she wanted to. And the only way Jason had a shot at being in her life was for her to clear his name and get the Queen of Hearts back to the Boss. All of which needed to happen tonight.

She shot another text to Romero. Show over. Headed to Sloan’s. Did you find the dragon’s bone? Who are you sending?

His reply was almost instant. Found DB. Sending Ares.

The name sent a sudden shiver through her and wiped the smile from her face. In the hall, stagehands rolled one of the set pieces into the wings. The rumble of its passage traveled into her bones like an omen. Romero was sending Ares to play the part of her source.

Or tie up loose ends if things went south.

Ares was a wraith, a sort of vampire/grim reaper hybrid. And although he was a Collector in rank, he was really more of an executioner. She shuddered. She’d seen the guy, but had never met him. He wasn’t the mingling type. But, then, when your touch could siphon the soul out of a person’s body, keeping to yourself probably made more sense.

She dropped her phone into her bag and pushed the straps up onto her shoulder. If tonight didn’t go as planned, chances were good neither she nor Jason would get a second chance. Collectors who turned traitor were treated with zero mercy. Which was why Romero was sending Ares. If she and Jason didn’t get that ruby back, Ares would Collect her and Jason. Hopefully just them and not their souls.

She lifted her chin and left the dressing room behind to find Jason. She might be about to give the final performance of her life.

She was damn sure going to make it a good one.

Smile firmly affixed, she strode toward the exit with the kind of fake confidence years on the stage had taught her. Jason leaned near the big metal doors, bathed softly in the light of the EXIT sign above his head. He was so still that, for a moment, she could imagine him in his true form of carved stone.

Then he saw her, and a brilliant smile lit his face and brought him to life. He pushed off the wall and came toward her. “Hey there. You were amazing tonight.”

Her smile came easier. “You told me that already.”

“It bears repeating. Sloan’s never had an assistant like you. I saw the audience. You had them eating out of your hand.”

She shrugged, but kept her smile in place, hiding her true emotions over the text from Romero. “That’s what showgirls do, baby.” Her smile faded. “We should probably get to Sloan’s.”

Jason nodded and pushed open the door for her. “I’m as ready as you are to make this happen.”

With a last, quick smile, she darted past him and into the warm Vegas night. Jason might be ready, but he also didn’t know what was at stake. She waited until they were in the car and on the freeway before she said anything. “There’s something you need to know.”

His left hand gripped the steering wheel, while his right rested very close to her thigh. His eyes stayed on the road. “And that is?”

“The Collector they’re sending in to act as my source is a very dangerous supernatural.”

He laughed softly. “So am I, sweetheart. So are you, for that matter.”

“No, I mean really dangerous. He’s a wraith. He rarely goes on Collections. He’s more of an…executioner.”

Jason’s brows shot up. “And you’re telling me this because you think he’s been sent to Collect me if we fail?”

“No, I’m telling you this because I believe he’s being sent to Collect both of us if we fail.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and stared through the windshield at the blurring lights. “I get the sense they think I’m on your side.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I mean it in a traitorous way. The Boss is big on loyalty. Like, it’s one of his main things. If he thinks I’ve double-crossed him—”

“But you haven’t, and you’re going to return that ruby to him. That will clear things up, won’t it?”

She nodded. “I hope. You don’t know the kind of trouble I might be in.” That they might be in.

He slid his hand over and laced his fingers with hers. “Hey, look at me.” He tugged on her hand until she turned her head. “You have nothing to worry about. I am not going to let anything happen to you. You have my word. Relax. It’s all going to go off without a hitch. I promise.”

She wanted to believe him, but more than that, she loved how insistent he was about trying to make her believe everything was going to be all right. For his sake, she went along with it. “Okay.”

He grinned. “And as for trouble, well, if you were worried about that, you never should have kissed me.”

“Really? Because the way I remember it, you kissed me first.” She laughed. “You sure like to talk a big game, don’t you?”

He glanced at her, his gaze lingering on her chest. “I’m not the one wearing a low-cut leather vest and denim cutoffs.”

“If a little cleavage distracts Sloan, why should I hide it?”

“Sloan’s not the only one likely to be distracted.”

“Eyes on the road. If I’m going to die tonight, I don’t want it to be on a Las Vegas freeway.”

Still smiling, he shook his head. “Trust me, I’m not going to let you die.”

But his words rang hollow in the car’s quiet interior. Missions had a way of turning deadly fast, and this one was rife with possibility. She gave his hand a squeeze, thankful for something strong and warm to hold on to.

It was the closest she could come to a response.

Jason parked on the curve of Sloan’s circular drive and jogged around to Claude’s door to open it. The illusionist’s mega mansion and its surrounding landscaping were lit up like he was expecting the president. Besides the lights shining on both levels of the stucco eyesore, each of the enormous date palms that lined the driveway were illuminated, as were the statuary that decorated the niches in the front of the house.

She stepped out onto the pavers. “This place looks like the result of new money and bad taste. I guess if one of something is good, fifty of them is perfection.” She blinked exaggeratedly as she stared at the place. “Figures he lives out here. Does he actually golf or did he just buy a house here for the address?”

Sloan’s house was one of many multimillion-dollar houses surrounding the Southern Highlands Golf Club. Only the filthy rich lived here. “He used to golf, but he used so much magic to win that he can’t find partners anymore.”

“Serves him right. No one likes a cheat—”

The massive front doors opened. “There you are, my darling Claudia.” Sloan wore a smoking jacket, silk trousers and velvet slippers. A starched butler stood behind him at the ready. “Come inside, why don’t you?” He waved a hand at Jason like it was an afterthought. “You, too.”

Jason shut the car door. “He’s going to be so disappointed when he finds out that was your first and last show.”

“That’s going to be the least of his worries when I’m through with him.” She smiled brightly at Jason, her eyes glittering with secrets and anticipation and the smallest hint of nervousness. “Speaking of shows, let’s get this one underway before Hugh Hefner Jr. over there gets antsy.”

The interior of Sloan’s house was even more overwhelming than the exterior. Marble floors, waxed plaster walls, gilded fixtures, crystal chandeliers, huge columns, dark wood and the kind of artwork that most people got to see only in casinos.

“We get it,” Claude whispered as they walked toward the great room where Sloan waited. “He’s got money.” She rolled her eyes at Jason, almost making him snort.

When they entered, Sloan stretched out his hand toward a side table. It held a silver champagne bucket bearing a magnum of Dom, a pair of flutes and a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries. His butler had moved off to stand by the wall. “Please, have a drink with me to celebrate.”

Jason bristled. Only two flutes. Had Sloan been planning on seducing Claude?

She smiled sweetly. “That’s very kind of you, but I’d rather wait until my friend has arrived and our business is over. I like to have a clear head when taking care of such things. I’m sure you understand.”

Sloan arched a brow. “Are you sure you shouldn’t celebrate now? What if your friend doesn’t show? Or he hasn’t gotten what I requested?”

Sloan’s snide tone seemed to have no effect on Claude. Her smile stayed in place as Sloan reached for the bottle. “Oh, he’ll show. And he already texted that he’s gotten your dragon’s bone.”

Sloan popped the champagne and poured himself a drink. “Well, then! Even more reason to celebrate.”

She raised her finger. “There is one thing, however.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Sloan sipped his bubbly, looking very much like a man who expected the other shoe was about to drop. “What might that one thing be?”

Claude waved toward the front of the house. “It’s a bit bright out there. Knowing my friend as I do, he’s not going to like that.”

“He’s not, is he?” Sloan drained his glass, then poured himself another. “As it’s my house and I’m the one who’s about to pay what I’m sure will be an exorbitant amount for this delivery, I’ll keep the lights on.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But you know how wraiths can be about bright—”

“He’s a wraith?” Sloan paled. “You’re bringing a wraith to my house? Why on earth would you—”

“You asked me for dragon’s bone. You didn’t specify who could deliver it. Considering it’s not only a banned substance, but incredibly volatile, you shouldn’t be picky. There aren’t a lot of supes willing to handle that sort of thing. If they can even find it.”

Sloan’s mouth bent in displeasure. He snapped his fingers at the butler. “Turn the exterior lights to a minimum. Now.”

The man bowed. “Immediately, sir.” He practically ran out of the room. Within thirty seconds, the outside went dark.

Sloan glared at her. “You should have told me.”

“You should have asked.” Her sunny smile returned, and she sashayed toward him with the same walk that had first made Jason realize she might be more woman than he could handle. Something he still wasn’t sure about, but the challenge only made him want to try more. She stopped directly in front of Sloan. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

The sugar in her voice was enough to make a man diabetic.

Sloan cleared his throat. He seemed to be having some difficulty keeping his gaze from dropping below her chin. “Not mad, no. But I would have liked to be prepared.”

“I guess I was concentrating on the show so much I forgot.” She lifted his glass from his fingers and tipped it back, taking a long, slow sip. “You’ll do fine. Just let me do the talking and follow my lead. You can do that, can’t you?”

Sloan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. This once.”

The low growl of an imported sports car rumbled into the room. All three of them turned. With the lights off outside, all Jason could really see was a pair of headlights. “Whatever he’s driving, it sounds expensive.”

Claude made a small noise in the back of her throat. “He’s very good at what he does.” She glanced at Sloan. “I’ll answer the door and bring him in.”

Sloan nodded, his mouth tight with apprehension. Wraiths were apparently not his favorite kind of supernatural. Jason bit back a grin.

Wait until the night was over.

Claude got to the front door at almost the same time Ares did, opening it as he strode toward her. He wasn’t as tall or broad as Jason, but an unmistakable aura of death surrounded him. His skin was as pale as moonlight, and his eyes had the piercing depth of a bottomless pit.

Unease rippled over her skin. Being this close to a creature who could kill you with one touch did that to a person. “Thank you for coming.”

“We’ll see.” He was dressed head to toe in black, most of it leather save his shirt and gloves, which looked like, and undoubtedly were, silk.

She was extraordinarily happy to see the gloves. “I assume Romero filled you in?”

Ares nodded, but his gaze was focused on the living room behind her. “He did. You’re to call me the Dealer. And as long as you two know your parts, we’re ready.”

“We do.” She supposed he was handsome in a cold way, but his flawlessness—the hard, lean body, the pitch-black hair and the harsh angles of his face—served only to underline how perfect a killing machine he was. “And while I’m thankful you agreed to do this, I also know that you’re here to act as cleanup if things don’t go as planned.”

He glanced at her then, his lips parting to reveal the tips of his fangs. “We are Collectors. We do the jobs we’re assigned. That’s all I’m here to do.”

If that was meant to be a dig at her sudden interest in helping the object of her task or his way of saying it was nothing personal, she couldn’t tell. “Well, then. Let’s go do this job.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked toward the living room. No footsteps echoed behind her, no audible heartbeat or breathing, just the skin-prickling knowledge that death in human form followed at her back. She forced a smile onto her face as she entered the living room.

“Mr. Sloan, meet the Dealer.” She moved to the side and gestured toward Sloan. “I’m sure you gentlemen want to get this transaction underway.” Jason had repositioned himself at Sloan’s side in his role as bodyguard.

Sloan’s lazy grin made Claude want to skip the formalities and go straight to punching. If only they didn’t need that safe opened. “Not until Jason checks him out. You understand, Dealer, I’m sure. Security in these sorts of matters is very important.”

Ares’s brows barely moved. “Do what you need to.”

Jason approached Ares. He shot Claude a quick look. She gave him a subtle nod in return. No doubt, Ares would reek of bad intentions, but Sloan would never know. Jason leaned in and inhaled the air around the wraith, pausing for effect. Finally, he turned back to Sloan. “Clean.”

“Very well.” Sloan tipped his champagne flute toward Ares. “Let’s see the product.”

Jason came to stand beside her as Ares reached into an interior pocket in his long leather coat. He pulled out a small mesh pouch woven of silver and held it out. “I’m sure you’ll want to test it.”

Still grinning like he was the one in charge, Sloan took the bag. “Of course.” He loosened the drawstring and spread the pouch open. Claude caught a glimpse of iridescent black powder. Sloan let out an appreciative sigh. “It’s as beautiful as I’ve heard.”

“And as deadly,” Ares offered. “Test it. You’ll see it’s real.”

Sloan looked up at him briefly before taking a pinch of the powder and sprinkling it onto his tongue. He leaned his head back and exhaled a stream of fire into the air, throwing the darkened room into sudden brightness.

The flames faded. He nodded. “So far, so good. Jason, your arm, please.”

Looking less than happy to be participating, Jason stuck his arm out. Sloan took another pinch and rubbed it onto Jason’s skin until a small patch was smeared in black dust. Sloan snapped his fingers, causing flames to dance on the tips. He held the fire to the black patch on Jason’s arm.

Claude shot forward. She hadn’t anticipated Jason being used as a guinea pig. “What are you doing?”

Jason held his other hand up. “It’s okay. I don’t feel anything.”

“He won’t,” Ares added. “The dragon’s bone makes flesh impervious to fire, among its other uses.”

Regardless, she hated Sloan’s complete disregard for Jason’s personal well-being.

Sloan closed his hand, snuffing out the flames. Then he hefted the pouch of dragon’s bone like he was testing the weight. “The product is good. This is two ounces?”

“Slightly over, actually.”Ares stared at him, his gaze daring Sloan to say anything more on the subject.

Sloan shifted uncomfortably. “That’s very generous of you. How much do you want for this?”

“Three hundred.”

Sloan’s brows furrowed. “That’s all? That’s pocket change.”

Jason snorted. “I think he means thousands.”

Sloan glared at him. “I understood that. I expected to pay more.” He looked at Ares. “I’ll get your money.” He started to leave.

“Where are you going?” Ares asked.

Sloan stopped. “To my vault. You do want to get paid, don’t you?”

Ares held out his palm. “The dragon’s bone is mine until the money’s in my hands. Also, you’re not going anywhere alone until our deal is complete.”

Sloan’s mouth twisted unpleasantly, but he tossed the pouch back. “You can hold the goods, but this is my house. I’ll go wherever I damn well please.”

Ares shrugged. “And this is my product. And I’m just as free to leave.” He wheeled around toward the door, his black leather coat flying out behind him.

Three steps and Sloan called, “Wait.”

Ares stopped and turned. He stared at Sloan. “Change your mind?”

Frustration flickered in the illusionist’s eyes. “You can’t think I’m going to let you go back there with me.”

“No.” Ares nodded at Jason. “And you’re not taking your hired muscle, either.” He tipped his chin at Claude. “Take Claude. I trust her.”

Sloan rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine.”

“She’s not to leave your side. I want her eyes on you at all times.”

“Yes, yes,” Sloan answered, as if having Claude with him was of no consequence. “Claudia?”

“It is my job to assist, after all.” Claude almost smiled. That was exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for. Sloan underestimated her.

“Very good.” Sloan gestured toward the hall. “Claudia, my dear, if you would be so kind.”

She nodded. “Of course.” She walked with him toward the grand hall that led into the rest of the house, trying to look like the dutiful assistant. Little did he know she was about to be anything but.

“Your home is amazing.” Claude kept her banter light and breezy as she walked with Sloan through the house.

“Thank you.” He seemed tense, but, then, he had a wraith in his house. She’d give him a pass.

She put a tentative note in her voice. “Are you happy with the deal?”

He looked at her like she’d just pulled him from thought, then laughed softly. “Yes, very.” He smiled. “I underestimated you.”

He had no idea. She smiled shyly. “I told you I could help. I guess this means I’ll be getting that raise.”

He nodded. “You earned it. In fact, even with your raise, I’m still paying less for the dragon’s bone than expected.”

“I imagine the Dealer wants to keep you as a customer.”

“I suppose you’re right. Which means the next purchase will probably be much closer in price to what it should be. Such is the commerce of life, eh?” He stopped at a set of grand double doors, pushed them open and strode through. She followed him. He held out his arms. “Welcome to my sanctuary.”

An enormous bed sat in the midst of the room. She ignored it and glanced around. Lots of ivory, black and red with the same touches of gilt and crystal as the rest of the house. It was so stereotypically Vegas, it was almost funny. “It’s lovely.” If you liked pretending you were a Mafia don.

On one wall, dominating the room, was a larger-than-life oil painting of Sloan astride a white tiger. His ick factor shot up to eleven. Realizing she was gaping at the painting, she closed her mouth and tried to find something else to look at.

Too late.

“Quite impressive, isn’t it?” Sloan was at her side, staring with great admiration at his likeness. “Javier Bares did that painting for me. I did a private show for his daughter’s quinceañera, and that was his gift to me.”

Bares was a well-known Vegas artist whose work went for huge sums. And who also, apparently, had no personal standards on what subjects he would and would not paint. “It’s unbelievable.” Which was totally not a lie.

Sloan beamed. “That’s not all it is.” He walked forward, grasped the painting by its thick gilt frame and swung it open like a door. Behind it, recessed into the wall, sat an enormous gold rectangle with a shiny chrome handle and gleaming black keypad.

The vault.

She smiled. “What a clever man you are.” Like that wasn’t the first place she would have looked.

He circled his finger in the air. “If you wouldn’t mind turning around while I unlock this?”

“Naturally.” She turned away. She didn’t need to know the combination. Just for him to open it. After the beeping of the keypad, she heard the snick of the door and the soft whoosh of the heavy door being opened. She called out, “I’m turning back around now so we don’t make the Dealer mad.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He was deep in the vault, which was about the size of a standard walk-in closet. She went closer. The idiot had the Queen of Hearts displayed on a velvet stand. A quick scan revealed no sign of Jason’s keystone. No matter. He could find it himself in about ten minutes.

“Ohh!” She clapped her hands and widened her eyes. “What is that delicious sparkly thing?”

He looked up from counting out stacks of bound hundred-dollar bills. “Pardon?”

She pointed at the necklace. “Can I try it on? Please?” She batted her lashes. “I’ve never seen anything that gorgeous.” In truth, she hadn’t. The pigeon-blood ruby was surrounded by round-cut diamonds and hung on a platinum chain studded with more round-cut diamonds. The piece belonged with royalty. No wonder the Boss loved it so much.

He laughed. “My dear, that is a priceless ruby.”

“Please? Just for a minute.” She stuck her bottom lip out while delicately trailing her fingers down his arm.

He licked his teeth. “I haven’t ever actually seen it on anyone.”

She clapped her hands some more. “Ohh, please let me be the first.” Bast help her, she hated this dumb act.

He lifted the necklace from its stand, unclasped it and held it out to her.

She turned and bent her knees so he could put it around her neck, then she lifted her hair out of the way. The metal warmed against her skin almost instantly, the ruby nestling into the top of her cleavage like it had been designed for her. After he’d fastened it, she turned again, shaking out her hair. “What do you think?”

He had the look of a man who thought he was about to get some. “Spectacular. And the necklace isn’t bad, either.” He reached for her, eyes closed like he was going to kiss her.

She reared back and punched him in the temple. He dropped to the vault floor and sprawled there like he’d had a sudden attack of narcolepsy. She stared down at him as she shook out her throbbing hand, pleased she hadn’t lost her ability to knock a man out with one punch.

“Cristos the Incredible. Hah. More like Cristos the Unconscious.” She shook her head at him. Her fingers curled around the Queen of Hearts. They were halfway home. “You’re going to pay for what you did to Jason.”

She reached into the back of her waistband and pulled out a set of charmed handcuffs specifically meant to hold those of the magical persuasion. After securing Sloan, she leaned out of the vault and yelled for her favorite gargoyle.

At the sound of Claude hollering his name, Jason ran for the vault. “On my way,” he yelled back. Ares followed him, but as long as the wraith didn’t touch him, Jason didn’t care what he did.

A few seconds later he was in Sloan’s bedroom. Claude stood in the doorway of the vault, the Queen of Hearts dangling around her neck like it was the sort of thing she wore every day. She should. It looked damn good on her. Sloan was sprawled on the floor like a rag doll, hands cinched behind his back.

Ares stood at Jason’s right shoulder. “I see you found the necklace.”

Claude nodded. “Yes, but we also need to find Jason’s keystone. Sloan stole it and used the threat of destroying it as a way to make Jason do his dirty work. Jason isn’t guilty of anything except having an egomaniac for a boss.”

The glint in Ares’s eyes unnerved her. “Your job is to recover the necklace and Collect Jason.” He slanted his eyes at the gargoyle before returning his gaze to her. “If you need my help to do this—”

“Step back, wraith.” Claude scowled at him. “I’ve got this covered. I’m still the Collector in charge here.” She nodded at Jason. “Get in there and find your keystone.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at her and slid past her into the vault, making a note not to get on Claude’s bad side.

While she held off the wraith, he searched the shelves, finally finding the shield-shaped slab of granite on the top one, hidden behind a stack of rare vinyl LP’s. The minute he touched it, a sense of well-being flooded his body. He closed his eyes for a moment. He wasn’t whole yet, but he was damn close. Forcing himself to be patient, he held it out for all to see. “Got it.” He tucked the stone plate under his arm and went back to Claude.

“Good. I know you probably want to reattach it immediately, but—”

“We’re going to need it for evidence.”

“Exactly. You wanna grab Sloan, too?” She stepped over the still-unconscious illusionist and pointed at Ares. “I appreciate your help, but you’re really not needed here anymore.”

Jason tossed Sloan over his shoulder. A little air whooshed out of the comatose magician illusionist, but he didn’t otherwise stir. “It was good of you to help.”

Ares stared at him. “It’s still her mission to Collect you and bring you in, along with the Queen of Hearts.”

A little growl emanated from Claude’s throat. “I take it you’re not going to be happy until you follow us in, huh?”

“You have your job, I have mine.”

She threw her hands into the air. “Fine. Let’s go. But give me a minute with Jason. Go wait in your car.”

He glared at her, but after a moment, he nodded and started for the door. “One minute. No longer.”

As soon as he was gone, Claude turned to Jason. “I’m sorry, but I do have to bring you in. There’s really no option. You could run, but you’d be looking over your shoulder the rest of your life.”

“And leave you to suffer the consequences? Not going to happen.” Jason smiled. Holy heaven, she was beautiful. Being slightly deadly just made her hotter. “I’m okay with it. Hey, I have my keystone back. That’s huge. You’ve already done everything in your power to help me, and for that, I will always be in your debt. Besides, we’re going to tell them the truth. They’ll get it.”

She smiled, but the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “Maybe they will and maybe… Look, you need to know that even with all this evidence, there might still be some sort of punishment. You are the one who physically stole the ruby, even if Sloan was behind it.”

He cupped her face in his hand, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone and grinning. “If they throw me in the slammer, will you bake me a cake with a file in it?”

She frowned, a little anger flickering in her gaze. “I’m being serious. They could exile you from Vegas.”

“And?”

She turned her head. “And that would mean I’d never get to see you again.” Her voice cracked a little.

“You could come with me.”

She shook her head, her eyes liquid with emotion. “I can’t. Retired or not, I’m a Sin City Collector. I have to be reachable in case they need me.”

“Then I’ll figure out a way to stay. Because I don’t want to be without you.”

The corners of her mouth lifted a little. “You don’t?”

“No, I don’t.” Behind Jason, Sloan made a little noise like he was moving, but Jason ignored him, keeping his attention on Claude. “Woman, I have plans for you. If you want me.”

“Yes, I want you. Even though admitting that makes me feel a little naked.”

“I like the sound of that, but let’s wait until we’ve ditched Sloan, okay?”

She laughed. “Okay, let’s do this thing and we’ll figure it out together.” She pushed the vault door open farther as she exited.

He followed behind her, Sloan draped over his shoulder like a used gym towel. “Good to know you have no problem dating a felon.”

She made a face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Sloan moaned. “What’s going on…”

Jason tipped his head toward the man. “You got this?”

She nodded. “I got this.”

Jason turned, putting Sloan’s face in front of her.

She slugged him again, knocking him out a second time.

Jason spun back around. “Is he out?”

“He’s out.” She gave him an odd look. “You really don’t have a problem with this side of me?”

“No.” He shook his head. The woman was incredible. He couldn’t help but grin to think that she wanted to keep him around.

“What’s that look?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Nothing. You’re just so damn hot.” He nodded toward the door. “Lead on, tiger princess warrior.”

Jason dumped Sloan onto the couch in the waiting room while Claude talked to the receptionist. The illusionist was still out, thanks to Jason giving him a little Marine stranglehold when he’d woken up in the car. Jason had let Claude drive since she’d known where they were going. Ares, who was standing by the door like they might bolt, had followed Jason and Claude the whole way, his Maybach growling down the road behind them like a metal beast.

A Maybach. Damn. Who knew being a Collector paid that well? Although Claude had said Ares did more than just Collect.

She walked back toward Jason, the confidence she’d had on the ride over almost gone now. She glanced toward the door. “My handler’s on his way up.”

“Is he the one who decides what happens to me?”

“Yes and no. He knows what should happen, but he also knows this case has some special circumstances. I’m sure the Boss will have the final say. No doubt, he’ll be listening in on the whole conversation.”

Ares grunted like he thought the entire thing was a waste of time and that Jason should just be sentenced. Jason refrained from showing him the intricacies of the Marine stranglehold. “Okay, so we plead our case and—”

“No,” she said. “I plead the case. It’s probably best if you don’t say anything initially. This isn’t like a human court. You’re not exactly presumed innocent.”

Ares snorted.

Claude turned slowly to look at the wraith, her eyes blazing with anger. “Why are you still here? Romero’s on his way up. You did your part.” She waved a hand at him. “Shoo.”

“I’m here in case I’m still needed.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re not.”

“That depends on Tennant’s sentence. And yours.”

Her fingers flexed and straightened as she unsheathed her claws. “You try to steal either of our souls and I will shred you like junk mail.”

Ares stared at her, the tiniest flicker of respect in his eyes. Jason wanted to ravish her right then and there.

Instead, he put his hand on Claude’s shoulder and gently guided her to the other side of the room. “Deep breath, babe. Don’t let his presence get to you. Everything’s going to be all right.”

She shot an angry look at Ares. “I’d feel better if he wasn’t here.”

So would Jason. “He’s just doing his job. Like you are.”

“I guess.”

The phone on the receptionist’s desk buzzed. She picked it up. “Yes, sir. All of them. Right now.” She hung it up and looked at Claude. “You can go in.”

She hitched a thumb toward Sloan. “Him, too?”

The receptionist nodded. “Yes, take him with you.”

Jason tipped his head at Claude. “I got him.”

With a ragged inhale, Claude gave Jason’s hand a squeeze, then headed for the double doors behind the receptionist’s desk. He threw Sloan over his shoulder again and followed, as did Ares, a few steps behind. The office was spacious and well appointed, but the décor was something he could describe only as the swanky ’70s. He dumped Sloan on the floor.

That woke him up. The illusionist blinked a few times. He coughed and grimaced, obviously feeling the side effects of the stranglehold. “Ow, my head.”

“Shut up,” Jason snarled. “Or I’ll let Claude have another go at you.”

Sloan looked around, spotted Claude in front of him and went quiet. His left eye was a little swollen and starting to purple.

The man behind the desk spoke first. “Claudette.”

“Romero.” She unfastened the Queen of Hearts from around her neck and placed it on his desk. “Recovery accomplished.”

Romero glanced at Jason. “And your Collection, I see.” He looked around her at the prone illusionist. “I take it the evening went as planned, then. And Sloan?”

“He’s the one I’m here to turn in, not Jason.”

Romero sighed. “You know we have video of Mr. Tennant entering and leaving the Boss’s gem vault on the night the gem went missing.”

“But he did that under duress.” She wiggled her fingers behind her back, motioning for Jason to come forward. He stepped over Sloan to stand beside her. “I’m here to explain what really happened and to plead for leniency for Mr. Tennant.”

Romero nodded. “I figured as much. So what’s his story?”

“The story is Sloan is a rat bastard. Through devious means, Sloan stole Jason’s keystone and used it to coerce Jason into stealing the Queen of Hearts. Sloan has threatened to destroy the keystone on numerous occasions. Doing that would strip Jason of his supernatural gifts. And in the two years Sloan has had possession of Jason’s keystone, Jason has been unable to fully shift, causing him great mental, emotional and physical distress.”

Jason nodded, while doing his best to look mentally, emotionally and physically distressed.

“Meanwhile,” Claude continued, “Sloan has been practicing gray magic, purchasing black-market materials and generally being an ass.”

Romero quirked one brow. “Being an ass isn’t a crime.”

“Well, it should be,” she huffed. “He’s currently working on an unregistered immortality spell.”

“Interesting.” Romero tapped his finger on the desk top. “Ares, can you confirm any of this?”

The wraith nodded. “Tennant’s keystone was in Sloan’s vault.”

“What about the Queen of Hearts?”

Ares slanted his eyes at Claude. “Ms. Marchon was wearing that by the time I arrived.”

She rolled her eyes at Ares. “The result of the ruse I used to get in the vault and distract Sloan.”

Romero held out his hand. “Mr. Tennant, do you have the keystone on you? If so, can I see it?”

Jason pulled the keystone from his inside jacket pocket and handed it over. Gouges covered one side, evidence of Sloan chiseling it off Jason’s stone form. The other side bore a worn set of carved initials. The maker’s mark.

“Thank you.” Romero studied it for a few minutes, glancing at Sloan a few times. Then he set the keystone on his desk. “This is an unusual case.”

Claude pointed at Sloan. “The Queen of Hearts has been returned, and the real criminal has been apprehended. Jason is the victim here. Not the one who needs to be dealt with.”

Jason could practically feel the indignation vibrating off Claude.

Romero shook his head. “Claudette, I understand the circumstances in this case are unusual, but—”

“One of Sloan’s demands of Jason caused me to be bitten by a lamai demon. How’s that for circumstances?”

Romero’s jaw tensed. “And you went rogue, putting yourself in the line of danger unnecessarily. Not to mention aligning yourself with the person you were sent to Collect.” He suddenly held up his hand like he was listening to something else.

Someone else. Jason realized Romero was wearing an earpiece.

Romero pushed back his chair and stood, picking up the keystone. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Are you going to see the Boss? Because you better tell him everything.”

Romero walked out from behind the desk. “Yes, I’m going to see him. He’s heard the details. I’ll return shortly with his verdict.”

Claude stepped forward. “I’m going with you.”

Romero shook his head. “No one sees the Boss. You know that. Besides, you can’t be a part of the solution when you’re part of the problem.” He glanced at Ares. “No one goes anywhere.”

Ares nodded. “Understood.”

Jason couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. “That keystone belongs to me. I’ve already been without it too long. I expect to get it back.”

Romero looked at it once before answering Jason. “I understand your concern, Mr. Tennant, but you’re in no position to be dictating orders.”

With that, Romero opened a hidden panel in the wall and walked through, leaving them to await the verdict that could free them to start a brand new life together.

Or separate them for a long, long time.

Claude stalked toward the windows overlooking the city. This time of night, the streets below blazed with so much light and color the darkness didn’t have a chance. The sidewalks would be teeming with people—humans and supernaturals alike—all wrapped up in their own little worlds, no clue as to the drama unfolding so many stories above them. No idea about the lives that hung in the balance.

Jason came to stand beside her. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “As okay as I can be, but I hate waiting. It’s the feline in me. We’re not a patient species. How are you?”

“I’m okay.” He stuck his finger through one of the belt loops on her shorts. “You did everything you could.”

“I hope.” Truth was, she wasn’t sure she had, and if the Boss decided Jason should be punished, she’d regret not making him run. Sure, that would have meant consequences for her, but she was positive she could have spun it so that the Boss let her off lightly. Now, whatever came down was, in part, her burden to bear.

She studied his reflection in the glass. He was looking at her with such affection in his eyes, and she realized she was worrying about the future when the present needed her attention. She smiled, unable to help herself. He was quite the package. Handsome, funny, drop-dead sexy, built like nobody’s business and surprisingly gentle for a creature of his kind. Or maybe that’s just how he was with her.

He met her gaze in the glass. “What?”

“You’re something else, you know that?”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Good.” Was it possible that this man was her reward for suffering through the last idiot she’d fallen for? “You have no idea what the verdict’s going to be, no way of knowing what the next few hours hold. You don’t even know if Romero’s going to bring your keystone back, and you’re looking at me like I’m the only thing on your mind.”

“Oh, he’ll bring it back. Or I’ll go get it.” His smile widened. “As for everything else…you are the only thing on my mind. Sure, the other stuff is there, but I can’t do anything about it, so why dwell?”

“How can you do that?”

“Special Ops training. You learn to compartmentalize stuff. Otherwise, something could distract you during a mission.”

She turned to lean against the glass and face him. “So I’m your current mission?”

He laughed softly. “Current and future.” He glanced behind him. Sloan still lay on the floor, and Ares stood rigidly near the secret panel Romero had gone through. “I really wish we were alone.”

That made two of them. She slipped a finger through his shirt buttons just so she could touch his hard chest. “Why’s that?”

His smile went a little wicked as his voice dropped until it was a tingle-inducing growl. “I have my reasons.”

His words started a fire inside her. “Because you want to kiss me?” She really hoped that was what he was thinking.

“That’s where I’d like to start, yes.”

Bast help her, she was in deep. She was sure he could hear the jump in her pulse just as well as she could. There was no denying the way he made her feel. And despite her past and her bad experience with her last boyfriend, she felt ready to give love, at least with Jason, another shot.

Ares could stuff it. She leaned forward to kiss Jason—just as Romero walked back into the room.

He cleared his throat as he moved back behind his desk. “If you could give me your attention, Claudette. You might want to hear this.”

“We were just—never mind, we’re coming.” She was pretty sure Romero knew what they’d been about to do. Jason went with her to stand in front of Romero. She crossed her arms. Waiting sucked.

“I’ve talked to the Boss, and while this case is certainly not what we expected, the fact remains that coerced or not, Mr. Tennant stole the Queen of Hearts.”

Claude opened her mouth to argue, but Romero held up his hand. “Because the Queen of Hearts has been returned and due to Mr. Sloan’s coercion of Mr. Tennant and his additional crimes, some leniency will be granted.”

A little of the weight left Claude’s shoulders.

Sloan barked out a laugh. “See? I’m a name in this town. You can’t—”

“Mr. Sloan.” Romero glared at him. “The leniency I referred to was for Mr. Tennant, not you.” He gestured to Ares. “If you would remove Mr. Sloan, there’s really no need for him to be here any longer.”

Ares nodded, lifted Sloan by the belt of his smoking jacket and hauled him from the room kicking and screaming.

A small wave of relief washed through Claude. If Romero was sending Ares out with Sloan, that was a pretty good sign the wraith wasn’t needed for anything else here. Jason snagged her hand with two fingers, apparently having come to the same conclusion. That small touch made her feel as though, together, they could face anything.

Romero waited until Sloan was gone before speaking again. “That doesn’t mean there are no consequences for your actions, Mr. Tennant.”

Jason nodded. “I understand. But if I’m going to be punished, I feel I should get to say something.”

Romero nodded. “Fair enough.” He sat in the desk chair and gestured toward the floor. “Have at it.”

Jason dropped her hand and stepped forward. “Whatever you do to me, fine. But Claude doesn’t deserve to be punished. Everything she did was to help me, so give me her punishment.”

Claude melted a little. He was everything her ex wasn’t. “Jason, you don’t have to—”

“Actually,” Romero interrupted, “your noble gesture is appreciated but unnecessary. Ms. Marchon accomplished her mission. What she did to get to that end doesn’t matter so much as that she did get there. And in far less time than anticipated.” He twirled a pen through his fingers. “You’re the one who needs dealing with.”

Claude couldn’t take it any longer. She charged forward. “He doesn’t need dealing with. He needs to be apologized to for what Sloan did to him.”

Romero frowned. “We can’t have a supernatural with his capabilities and his apparent willingness to commit crimes against other supernaturals roaming free in this city.”

“His willingness to commit crimes?” She was almost shrieking, but didn’t care. “Are you kidding me?”

Jason grabbed her hand. “It’s okay, babe.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Claudette, the decision’s been made.” Romero pulled Jason’s keystone from his pocket and held it out to him. “Jason Tennant, your keystone is yours. But as of midnight tomorrow, your presence will no longer be permitted within the city limits of Las Vegas. You are hereby exiled.”

Claude snatched the keystone and handed it to Jason. “Then I’m gone, too.”

Romero popped a brow. “Leaving the city would not go over well with the Boss.”

“Then go ahead and exile me as well, because I’m done being a Collector. Done.” She slapped his desk top. “The only chance you have of me staying is pardoning Jason entirely.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Romero put his hand to his ear. “A moment, please.”

Claude leaned over to Jason and whispered, “I’m sure the Boss isn’t happy, but I don’t care.”

He whispered back, “I’m sure you’re right, but I don’t want you getting into more trouble. We’ll figure this out.”

She shook her head, unconvinced.

Romero tapped a finger on the desk. “The Boss said he’d be willing to pardon Jason on two conditions.”

Claude put a hand on her hip. “And they are?”

“That you sponsor a new Collector to take your place.”

Her mouth dropped open. “He knows that means I’d have to stay here.” You couldn’t sponsor someone if you weren’t around to teach them the ropes.

“The second condition is that the new Collector is Jason. For a minimum of ten years.”

New hope blossomed in her like spring had come to the desert. She glanced at Jason, who gave her a little nod. “Five years, and it’s a deal.”

Romero held up a finger as he listened to his earpiece. “Seven. Last offer, non-negotiable.”

She looked at Jason. “What do you think? This is your decision.”

His mouth twitched like he was trying to suppress his true feelings, the only indication on his otherwise stony face of what was going on in his head. “I accept.”

She squeezed his hand. “Done.” She nodded at Romero. “Tell the Boss I said thanks.”

“We said thanks,” Jason corrected.

Romero nodded. “He knows.” He pointed to the couch. “Have a seat. I need to get the paperwork done.”

“We’ll be right here.” Claude stared up at Jason, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Romero left.

Jason picked her up and hugged her. “Nicely done, tiger warrior princess!”

She arched back so she could see his face, her hands on his chest. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? I would have taken ten years.” He kissed her, long and slow, shooting sparks down into her toes. He eased her back to earth as he broke the kiss, but kept his arms around her. “Thank you.”

“You realize this means you’re stuck with me for at least the next couple of months until you become a full-fledged Collector.”

“Stuck, uh-huh, got it.”

“I’m serious. It could take as long as a year before they sign off on you as a solo. And as your sponsor, it’s my job to teach you the ins and outs of this job—”

“Ins and outs, mm-hmm.” The twinkle in his eye was maddening.

She punched him in the arm as she started to laugh, not that punching him had any real effect. He wiggled his eyebrows wickedly. She rolled her eyes at him. “I know what you’re thinking. Try to pay attention, will you?”

He pulled her in close. Heat radiated off him like a Nevada summer. “I’m paying attention. To you. To the way your mouth quirks up on one side when you get mad. To the way your eyes get that little glint of dominatrix when things don’t go quite your way.” He bent and nuzzled her neck, making her lose her train of thought. “It’s hard not to be distracted by you.”

She breathed out a response, realizing a second later the only thing that had come out of her was a deep, throaty purr. “As your sponsor, I…”

He feathered kisses across her collarbone. “You what?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed. “You’re distracting me.”

“See how easily that happens?” The tip of his tongue delved into the hollow of her throat. “I do have one question.”

“Hmm?” Her purring was getting louder. And she couldn’t care less.

He leaned back, his face suddenly very serious. “Are there any rules about Collectors dating their sponsors?”

“I…don’t know, actually.” She bit her lip. “I’ve never had a reason to find out. Is that going to be a problem?”

He laughed out loud. “Not for me, but your boss might have something to say about it.” Jason shook his head, his laughter fading for the kind of serious expression that frightened her a little. “But then I may not be able to date you for seven years.”

“No?” Claude’s heart sank. At least he was telling her up-front. “Can I ask why not?”

“I’m a gargoyle, Claudette. Loyalty is a big thing for me. Monogamy is, too. And I can tell you the idea of you with anyone else is already enough to make me want to break something. You should know that at some point, I’m going to have to marry you.”

She pinched her lips together to keep from laughing. “Well, if you have to…I certainly wouldn’t want to stand in the way of that.” She threw her arms around his neck. “You’re kind of crazy, you know that?”

He kissed her. “Crazy about you.”

“How about we head back to my place after we finalize this paperwork and get crazy together?” Now was not the time to tell him that she couldn’t risk marrying a man only to have him go running when he found out about her true form. They had years ahead of them. He might not even be that interested in her in a few more months.

He arched his brows. “Don’t you want to find out if it’s okay for a Collector and a sponsor to be involved first?”

“Nah. I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission.”

“Good.” The wicked glint returned to his gaze. His grip on her waist tightened. “Because I’m already hot for teacher.”

Four months, eight days. That’s how long it had taken Jason to ask Claude to marry him. He would have done it sooner, but he wasn’t sure she’d say yes. She still hadn’t. Even though it had become abundantly clear they were meant to be. At least to him.

She’d made it plain she wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else, something he took as a positive sign. He had a feeling her reluctance to say yes had everything to do with the side of her he hadn’t seen yet. Maybe the ex she refused to elaborate on had seen it and rejected her. One more reason to want to grind the idiot into dust.

Fortunately for her, gargoyles were very patient creatures, and he had no intention of pushing her. She would eventually be ready to show him.

Now, six months later and he was still waiting as they were about to embark on his first Collection. Maybe it was his military background, but he’d rocked the tests and training she’d put him through.

She winked at him as they stood on the roof of the Galaxy Resort and Casino, pride shining in her eyes.

He smiled back. “You okay to do this?”

He’d taken her flying before, but this time it wasn’t for fun and she wasn’t here as his girlfriend. This was his first real Collection, and she was here as his sponsor to make sure everything went according to plan and to sign off on him as a solo Collector. Although judging by her general happiness in how he’d been doing lately, getting her approval wasn’t something he was worried about.

He wasn’t fooling himself, though. If he screwed up, she wasn’t going to sign off on him just because he was a good kisser.

After a final glance over the edge, she nodded. “I’m fine. Forty floors up is intimidating, even for my feline blood, but I know you’re not going to let anything happen to me.”

“That’s for damn sure.”

“Besides, this is your job. I’m just here to observe.”

“All right then.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

With a quick shudder, he shifted into his gargoyle form, something he would never again take for granted. His skin mottled with the gray of living granite, and his bones shifted as wings sprouted from his back. He crouched. “Hop on.”

She climbed onto his back and settled in. Flying was one thing. Attacking from the air was another, but she seemed to know that as she wrapped her arms securely around his chest, flattening herself against his back so that her shoulders rested below where his wings jutted out. “Can I just say for the record that I’m really glad they let me be your sponsor?”

He laughed. “Me, too. I can’t see Ares hanging on to me like you are.”

She gave a soft snort of laughter. “Um, no.” She patted his chest. “Let’s fly.”

Her command made him grin like a fool in love. Which he was. He leaped forward, easily clearing the knee wall that surrounded the roof. He climbed quickly, taking them up a few hundred feet only to bank and face the resort once again. “Suite 3810, locked on target. Brace yourself, we’re going in.”

He felt her tuck her head against his body. That was his sign. He closed his wings over her, turning himself into a gargoyle bullet, and dove. Wind whistling past, he plunged straight through the floor-to-ceiling window of Suite 3810. The glass exploded like a bomb. He landed in a shower of falling glass, some crunching underfoot. The inhabitant, a wolf shifter by the name of George Lunden, was too stunned to do much more than stare. Jason understood. Wasn’t every day a showgirl riding two hundred and fifty pounds of living rock flew through your window.

Claude hopped off. “Do your thing, honey.”

Jason went to his half-form. “Where’s Liza Anderson? We know you have her.”

The man’s mouth still hadn’t closed, although his eyes flickered with the glow of his wolf. His canines started to grow.

Jason head-butted him to the floor, then held him down with one hand. “You wanna go wolf on me, that’s fine, but you should know, no matter what form you’re in, I will hang you out of that broken window until you tell me where the girl is.”

Lunden’s wolf disappeared. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He pointed toward another part of the suite. “She’s in the other bedroom. I wasn’t going to hurt her, I swear. I just needed the ransom money.”

“To pay your gambling debts, we know.” Jason shackled him, then jumped up and ran to the other bedroom. Claude followed.

Jason ripped the door open and found the woman handcuffed on the bed, her mouth covered with duct tape. “You okay?”

She nodded. Her makeup was streaked by tears. He freed her, then eased the tape off her mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your husband reported you missing.”

“Did you get the bastard?”

“He’s cuffed and incapacitated in the other room right now.”

She threw her arms around Jason. “I was so scared.”

“You’re fine now.” Jason gave her a moment, then eased her arms off him. “This is my partner, Claudette. You can use her phone to call your husband. I’m sure he’s very worried about you.” That wasn’t quite protocol, but by the nod Claude gave him, he’d done the right thing.

She stepped up, her phone already out of her pocket. “Here you go.” The woman took it and started dialing.

Claude walked him out into the hall. “You did great. This was a super-clean Collection, and no one got hurt.” She kissed his cheek.

“Does that mean I passed?”

She nodded. “With flying colors, no pun intended. Let’s get this Collection turned in so we can hit the town. I’m ready to celebrate.”

He grinned. “You got it.” They’d brought clothes to change into, planning ahead that everything would go well and they’d have something to celebrate.

Thirty minutes later, they’d delivered George Lunden to Romero and Liza back to her husband. Romero had been assigned as Jason’s point of contact as well, and he’d been as impressed with Jason’s performance as Claude, happily welcoming him to the Collection family.

Mission completed, they went their separate ways to change. Jason got to their meeting spot first, right in front of the Blue Moon Casino, headquarters to the Sin City Collectors organization. He stood near the fountain, waiting for Claude. The only thing missing from his life now was her answer. Maybe tonight would be the night. Maybe tonight she would finally—

She walked through the sliding glass doors.

Jason whistled long and low. The little red dress Claude had changed into highlighted every curve. She strode toward him on towering leopard heels, smiling like she had no idea that male heads were turning her way.

He shook his head, amazed that she was walking toward him. “You look illegal in that dress. You should wear red more often.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll make a note of that.” She slipped her fingers under his lapel, smoothing it down the length of his chest. “You know I love you in a suit.”

It wasn’t possible to want her any more than he did in that moment. “Where do you want to go?”

Her smile turned sly. “I was thinking home.”

“Home? I thought you wanted to go out?”

“I did, but I changed my mind.” She tipped her head to one side. “Besides, I’m almost ready to sign off on your performance.”

Jason frowned. “Almost? You already did that upstairs. Did something go wrong?”

She patted his chest, her hand trailing lower. “I wasn’t talking about your performance as a Collector. That’s a done deal.” She bit her lip. “Seeing you in action tonight…did things to me. Things that need to be taken care of immediately. We can go out after.”

His body tightened in response to her words. “Is that an order?”

She nodded. “Yes, one I expect you to obey as soon as we get home.”

Jason pulled her close, making a wave of tourists move around them. He didn’t care. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother going home. Maybe we should get a room. My military training makes me want to take care of that order right now.”

She tipped her head back and laughed. “Is that what it is? Your military training?”

“That and the fact that I am so crazy for you, I can’t stand it.” He shook his head. “Why won’t you say yes to me? What about me are you still unsure of?”

She stared up at him. “It’s not you, Jason. It’s me.”

A hole opened up in his gut, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was about to break up with him. “What are you saying?”

She cleared her throat as she pulled away slightly. “I guess there’s no point in putting this off any longer.”

“Putting what off?” The sick feeling in his belly started to grow.

“Come with me.” She took his hand and led him back into the casino, finally stopping when they were in a secluded hall beyond a passage marked Employees Only. “It’s my other form.”

He furrowed his brow, but relief washed through him. “It won’t matter to me, whatever it is. There’s nothing you can show me that’s going to make me leave you.”

She sighed. “It might.”

He’d speculated that someone in her past, someone she’d trusted with her heart, had made her feel this way, but she always shut down when he brought up her past. He braced himself. “It won’t. I promise.”

She gave him a look. “What I led you to believe about the man that I was involved with being unable to handle me as a Collector was only partly true. He didn’t like seeing my aggressive side, but what really made him leave me was my other form. He couldn’t deal with it. Said it creeped him out and—”

“I had a feeling that was the case.” He took her hand. “I’m not that guy. Why don’t you let me decide?”

“Okay.” Her voice was so quiet it was like she was already resigned to the outcome. She pulled her hand out of his. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She closed her eyes, and in a blink, he was no longer staring at Claude.

He was looking at…her grandmother. “Claude?”

She opened her eyes and nodded. “Yes, it’s me. I’m a Grimalkin. Cats and crones, it’s what we do.”

The woman in front of him was the same height and the same build as Claude. She had Claude’s eyes, and she was wearing Claude’s dress, but she had silvery hair, and a life of laughter and tears showed in the lines on her face. He realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it.

She looked away. Her eyes were liquid with unshed tears. “It’s too weird, isn’t it?” She looked for a moment like she might run.

He grabbed her arm. “It’s not weird. It’s who you are. And I love who you are.”

She looked through her lashes at him. “You’re serious?” She lifted her head and held her hands out. “This doesn’t bother you?”

He shrugged. “Nope. Although it would probably be best if this side of you stayed out of the bedroom. I might feel pervy if someone who could be my nana suddenly showed up wearing your lingerie.”

She smirked. “You’re not right, you know that?” She shook herself like a cat, and she was the Claude he’d fallen in love with again. “And now I’m going to be stuck with you for the rest of my life.”

His mouth dropped open again. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?”

She tugged her dress into place and smoothed her hair before she answered. “Yes.” She lifted a finger before he could celebrate. “But I have two conditions.”

“They are?”

She stuck her hand out. “Put a ring on it.”

“Does the Blue Moon have a jeweler?”

“In the Galleria.”

They’d better have some enormous rocks, too, because he was going to buy the biggest one in the showcase. He crossed his arms. “Done. Next?”

“I want to get married tonight. Right now.”

“Afraid I’m going to get away? Or change my mind? Because neither of those things is ever going to happen.”

A crafty smile lit her face. “Being a Grimalkin is like being a feline shifter on steroids, and if you think normal feline shifters are territorial, you have no idea what I’m like.”

He slipped his hands around her waist, unable to hold back his own smile anymore. “Hey, I get it. I’d want to lock me down, too. I mean, I am quite a catch, being a Collector and all, but just so you know, two can play that game. I’m going to put a diamond on you the size of a lighthouse beacon. There won’t be a man in this city who doesn’t know you’re married.”

She pressed against his body, her purr vibrating through him. “You know you’re not getting away without a ring, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He brought his mouth to hers for a long, hard kiss. “If a needle could get through this hide of mine, I’d tattoo your name across my back.”

She grinned. “You think it’s okay if I get married in red?”

“Sure, but are you going to regret not doing it up in a big white dress?”

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It would be nice to see you in a tux.”

He nodded. “Maybe invite a few people…”

She ran a finger down his chest. “Get a couple bottles of champagne…”

He smiled. “I know how you love champagne.” He bent his head so that their foreheads touched. “Let’s do this right. Because this is forever.”

She nodded. “Forever.”

He took her hand and led her out of the employee hall. “Let’s go get you a ring, then we’ll get some dinner. Collecting gives me an appetite.”

“I’m aware. I’ve seen you eat.” She laughed.

“Which way to the jewelers?”

“Left, then follow the signs for the Galleria.” She bit her lip. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yes. And it’s too late to change your mind. You already said yes.”

“I wasn’t going to change it. Just making sure I’m not dreaming.”

They walked hand in hand through the casino. Jason knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. The woman who’d come to Collect him for stealing the Queen of Hearts had ended up becoming his.

She glanced sideways at him. “You’re awfully smiley.”

“I was just thinking that all my life, I’ve been the one in charge of getting people out of trouble, but you were the one who did that for me. You gave me my life back. And while I know you’re not the kind of woman who needs protecting, I can’t help but want to do just that.”

She gave a little shrug. “I’m okay with that. Just because I can protect myself doesn’t mean it’s not nice to have someone else want to do it.”

“Good. Because that’s who I am.”

She tipped her head against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

In that moment, Jason realized he’d never felt so free.

DEAD MAN’S HAND

A Sin City Collectors Novella

Kristen Painter

“This fun, fresh series ups the ante and takes you on a wild ride you won’t forget! Clever, fast-paced, flirty—Viva Las Vegas!”

~ Gena Showalter, NYT Best Selling Author

Welcome to Las Vegas, home of the Sin City Collectors. The job description is easy: Bring the offending supernatural in to the Boss and don’t ask any questions.

Demi-goddess and muse Seraphina Kostos has been tasked with bringing her employer’s wayward teenage daughter home. Not the hardest job Seraphina’s ever had—until her boss calls in a favor in the form of extra help. The man who arrives is unlike any she’s ever encountered.

Sin City Collector Ares rarely goes on typical Collections. Mostly because his skill set involves taking lives, not saving them. As the son of a vampire and a grim reaper, his touch holds the ability to reap souls. Sure, it makes for a lonely existence, but he’s learned to deal with that. Or has he?

Beautiful Seraphina has him questioning everything he’s ever known. Living the rest of his life alone suddenly seems impossible. But what kind of future is there with a woman he can’t touch or hold or kiss?

What’s Collected in Vegas, stays in Vegas…

*All Sin City Collectors Novellas are stand alone novellas, all set within the world of the SCC. Our goal is for you to sit back and enjoy the ride as each author presents their unique story. The world of the Sin City Collectors is big. Places and characters will overlap, so be sure to look for your favorites and stay tuned for more novellas!

For the Writerchicks – Y’all make this possible

The girl should have been home by now.

Alarm tripped along Seraphina Kostos’s nerves. Her fingers instinctively went to the nine-pointed star she wore around her neck. “Where are you, Dahlia?” she muttered as she walked toward the girl’s bedroom. “Late is one thing, but this is ridiculous.”

Seraphina had searched every inch of her employer’s substantial mansion, and Javier Bares’s daughter was nowhere to be found. This wasn’t good. This was the distinct opposite of good. The girl, Dahlia, was a handful to begin with, but this disappearing act was a step too far.

She’d run away once before, angry that her father wouldn’t give in and buy her the expensive designer purse she’d seen on some teen pop star. This time, it had been a blowup over the kind of car she wanted—no, expected—on her sweet sixteen.

Javier could certainly afford the purse and the car for Dahlia—he was very wealthy, thanks to his artwork, but he’d made himself into the man he’d become and wanted his daughter to understand the value of money. As Javier’s muse, Seraphina had gotten to know him very well, and she appreciated his reasons and his desire to raise a daughter who didn’t believe the world owed her something. Dahlia, on the other hand, appreciated none of that.

No doubt, that’s why she’d run. To teach her father a lesson.

Except Seraphina had also known Javier long enough to understand he would not take Dahlia’s game lightly. She glanced around Dahlia’s enormous pink and gold bedroom suite and sighed. The clutter of clothes and shoes spread about the room made it impossible to determine if the child had packed for more than just the sleepover at her friend Becka’s the night before.

Becka’s mother had already confirmed Dahlia had left their house on her scooter after dinner. The trip from Becka’s should have taken no more than twenty minutes. It had been almost an hour. And in another hour, it would be dark.

Seraphina pulled out her phone and called Dahlia’s number. She listened to it ring, then pulled the phone from her ear to see if she could hear it in the room. Nothing. She put the phone back to her ear and listened until the voice mail clicked on. “Dahlia, call me as soon as you get this, okay, kiddo? We’re worried about you.”

Shaking her head, she hung up and walked out of the room.

Lucinda, head of the household staff, was in the hallway, a basket of laundry balanced on one hip. She raised her brows at Seraphina. “Did you find her?”

“No. You have any luck?”

Lucinda shook her head. “None. And the groundskeepers haven’t seen her, either.” She frowned. “You want me to tell Mr. Bares?”

Seraphina sighed. “No, I’ll do it.”

Lucinda’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you. He’ll take it better coming from you. You have a way with him.”

Seraphina smiled wryly. She had a way with everyone. As the daughter of a Greek muse, being able to influence people was her stock-in-trade. And her burden. Never knowing if someone truly liked you wore on a person over time. “It’s what I do. Send Marcus out to drive every possible route Dahlia could have taken, all right?”

Lucinda nodded. “I’ll do that immediately.”

Seraphina headed down to Javier’s studio, where he was working on a new commission, an enormous piece that would earn him a nice check and a Guinness World Records title. Of course, that was exactly the point of the job. The casino that had commissioned Javier wanted something to bring people in. A gimmicky reason for them to step through the doors. Once they were inside, the slots, gaming tables and cheap drinks would do the rest.

The smell of oil paint and the soft, plaintive sounds of Peruvian pan flutes greeted her as she walked into his work space. Even this late in the day, the enormous windows and skylights flooded the studio with natural light, something Nevada had in abundance. In the distance, the Las Vegas Strip cut a hard line through the desert landscape.

The commissioned piece took up a ridiculous amount of room. She stopped beside it and crossed her arms, staring up at the expanse of stretched black velvet. He’d wavered about doing it initially, until she’d used her muse wiles to convince him. He now understood the publicity would be very good for him, even if the art was campy. “It’s coming along beautifully. You are so talented.”

Javier straightened and set his brush and palette aside. His mouth quirked up on one side. “It is hideous, but I know it’s a good business decision.”

“It’s not hideous. It’s tongue in cheek, Javier.” She smiled at him. “And yes, a very good business decision.”

“I agree.” He shook his head. “But a velvet Elvis is still a velvet Elvis.”

She lifted her brows. “Guinness World Records is no small thing.”

He laughed softly. “You’re right, you’re right. It’s good press, good money and a bit of fun.”

She nodded. Before her arrival in his life, he’d had buckets of talent, but no drive and no direction. She had started as his muse, but had quickly taken on the role of pseudo manager, as well. Now he was practically a household name. Still, he was a grown man, free to paint what he liked. If he really hadn’t wanted to paint the giant velvet Elvis, she wouldn’t have been able to force him. “Agreed.”

“When the media come to take their pictures and write their stories, I want you here with me. I want you in the pictures.”

“I’m not the star, Javier. You are.” And the spotlight had never been her goal. Her main job as his muse was to make sure his creative side stayed unblocked and to occasionally guide him toward decisions that would bring him the most reward. Now, her job as his friend was to tell him about his daughter. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He wiped his hands on a rag. “For you, I am all ears.” With a sigh, he set the rag down. “Although I have a feeling I already know what you’re going to tell me. Something about Dahlia? She’s so mad at me about that car. What has she done now?”

Seraphina smiled sadly. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but she hasn’t come home from the sleepover yet, and she’s not anywhere in the house or on the grounds that we’ve been able to determine. I’ve already sent the driver out to trace her route.”

“She’s run away again.”

“We don’t know that.”

“She did it over a purse. Why not a car?” Javier pressed his lips together in frustration. “That stupid car. How did I end up with a child like this?”

She tilted her head. “We don’t know that she’s run away yet. Maybe her scooter broke down.”

“Then why wouldn’t she call?” Anger sparked in his eyes. “No. She thinks she’s proving something to me. That she’s independent.” He snorted. “Not so independent that she doesn’t want my money or need the shelter of this house or—”

Seraphina put her hand on his arm. “She’s just mad. Acting out. She’s probably gone to a friend’s house and is waiting until she thinks you’ve realized she’s right and you’re wrong. Or until you change your mind about the car.”

His mouth bent in a harsh frown. “I’m not buying her a Bentley for her sixteenth birthday. An Escalade is more than enough.”

Seraphina nodded. “I agree.”

He was silent for a moment, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “That child… I give her so much, and all she wants is more.”

“She’s a teenager. It’s what they do. She’s testing you and testing her boundaries.” Seraphina held up a hand before he could respond. “That doesn’t excuse her actions.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m tired of this behavior. It’s her mother’s influence.”

Seraphina bit her tongue. Javier’s ex-wife lived excessively on the divorce settlement she’d been awarded, but had already twice petitioned the court for more. The woman was one of Seraphina’s least-favorite people, partly because of her influence on Dahlia and partly for the way she made Javier’s life hell. “What are you going to do?”

“The same thing I did last time.” He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket.

“I tried Dahlia’s phone. She’s not answering.”

Javier snorted. “I’m calling her mother.” He shifted the phone to his other ear. “Hello, Felicia.” The grimace on his face translated so well to his voice that Seraphina was sure his ex-wife had picked up on it. “I’m calling because I need to speak to Dahlia.” He listened. “What do you mean she’s not there? Are you sure?” He rolled his eyes. “What I mean is, have you put down your wine to actually check or are you just guessing?”

He pulled the phone away from his ear. Tinny curses rained out of it. When the rant died off, he spoke again. “Fine. I get it, she’s not there. If she shows up, please tell her to call me. Have a nice evening spending my money.” He hung up.

Seraphina covered her mouth with her hand. “You shouldn’t have added that last part.”

“No, I shouldn’t have, but I am a weak man given to passion, not common sense.” He slumped onto a nearby stool. “That child is going to kill me.”

“Then do something about it.”

He looked at her. “Like what?”

“Put the word out that she’s gone missing. It’ll be dark in an hour. She and her girlfriends might turn up trying to con their way into one of the casinos or nightclubs. You know how much they love sneaking off to the Strip. Vegas is a small town when you’re local and people know you. She can’t stay hidden from you for long.”

He glanced at the painting he’d been working on, then looked at her and smiled. “You are worth twice the salary I pay you.”

She laughed. “You pay me plenty.” Plus, he provided her with quarters, a vehicle and anything else she might need. It was a pretty standard arrangement when a patron hired a muse, and one that worked well for both of them. “I assume you’ve come up with a plan?”

“I have.” He picked up his phone again and dialed. “It just so happens I know someone who can give us exactly the kind of help we need to find Dahlia.”

“Windows, open.” At Ares’s command, the curtains on his penthouse windows slid back to let the twilight in. Clad only in pajama pants, he walked toward the view, stretching the remnants of sleep out of his system as he went. The sun’s dying light sliced the sky into ribbons of orange and pink and painted his penthouse and bare chest with the same colors. He put his forearm against the glass, then leaned his head against his arm to get a better look at the scene on the street far, far below.

Streaks of light, the blur of people moving along the footpaths and pedestrian bridges…the Vegas Strip didn’t change. The same hustle and bustle, the same busy streets and crowded sidewalks. The same bone-deep desire that it stirred in those who visited and lived here to be a part of it all.

But he couldn’t. Not really. Not unless he was covered head to toe. Even then, he risked the possibility that something might go wrong. That, somehow, he’d come into skin-to-skin contact with an innocent and take their soul before it was their time.

Death was his skill. His talent. His business. It was also his assigned duty as a Sin City Collector and a job he protected fiercely, because it was one of the few he could do without repercussions. Hell, it was that or work in a mortuary. But even that would have meant being around living souls who weren’t ready to go yet.

The coffee machine sighed in readiness.

He pushed off the glass and padded barefoot to the kitchen. He fixed a single large cup, black with heaps of sugar, and stood there drinking it, looking out over his penthouse and thinking the same thought he had almost every evening.

Being a wraith had its perks, but companionship was not one of them.

A soft, hesitant rap rap rap sounded on his door. He put the coffee down and went to answer it.

A messenger stood on the other side. A kid not more than twenty-two, twenty-three. He stared up at Ares. The whites of his eyes showed a little more as his gaze went to the hourglass tattooed on Ares’s chest, but he was otherwise doing a damn good job of not letting his fear manifest anywhere else.

Ares stared back. “You are?”

“Leo.”

“You have a thing for ink, Leo, or do you think I’m sexy?”

Leo’s gaze dropped. “No, I just…I’m sure you’re very se—your tattoo is very nice.”

Ares leaned in. He could have flashed an impressive set of fangs, too, but no point in making the kid wet his pants. “Not like I had any say in it. Comes with my reaper side.”

“I, uh, yes. I’ve heard.” Leo cleared his throat and managed to keep his hand steady as he held out an envelope. “Romero sends his greetings.”

Ares studied Leo, letting him hold the envelope. “You’re new.” It wasn’t a question. Ares had better-than-average recall of the Collectors he’d met, and Leo wasn’t on that list. Probably hoped to work his way up to Collector. No idea what kind of supe he was, but then, Ares had never been one to pay much attention to another supernatural’s bloodlines. He never got that close.

Leo stood up a little straighter. “I’m Romero’s nephew.”

Then he had to have a little pyro in his system, if the rumors about Romero were true. Ares took the envelope as he inhaled. No scent of smoke. Whatever that was worth. “You’re still new.” He could be the Boss’s nephew, for all Ares cared. Leo would still have to prove himself. All Collectors did.

As if sensing Ares’s thoughts, Leo narrowed his eyes like he meant business. “Any questions?”

“No.” Even if he had, he wouldn’t be asking this kid. “Tell Romero I’ll be in touch.”

Leo nodded and backed away as Ares shut the door. No doubt, Leo’d be regaling his fellow Collector recruits about how he served the wraith his next job and lived to tell about it. With a sigh, Ares walked back to his coffee. He tossed the envelope on the counter and stared at it while he drank the now-tepid liquid and returned to admiring the sunset.

Except the sun was gone. Only the deepening purple of the sky remained as evidence it had ever been there.

Time to get moving. He put his cup in the sink and picked up the envelope, bittersweet curiosity edging his thoughts. Whose soul would he be Collecting today?

He tapped the envelope once on the counter, tore a strip off the short end and blew into it to open it up, then tipped the contents into his hand.

The playing card he’d been expecting slid onto his palm. It was the queen of diamonds, but the queen’s portrait had been replaced with an image of a teenage girl, hand-painted very much in the style of famed Las Vegas artist Javier Bares. With a frown, Ares looked into the envelope, but there was no other information.

If this was his intended Collection, it would also be the first assignment he’d turned down. He studied the card. An address out in the ritzy section of Henderson and a time, less than an hour from now, were delicately painted beneath the girl’s portrait. Even though the girl was dressed like an adult, she still looked young, maybe fourteen, fifteen. A child. Shaking his head, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

Romero answered on the third ring. “Ares. I take it you got the card.”

“I’m not doing this Collection.”

“It’s not what you think—”

“No children. You know my rule.”

“Like I said, it’s not what you think. The kid is Dahlia Bares.” Romero rolled the R in Bares. “Javier’s fifteen-year-old daughter. She’s run away from home for the second time, and Javier is extremely worried and very unhappy, as you can understand. You know the Boss loves Javier’s work, so he offered you up to help find her.”

“I am sorry for Mr. Bares’s troubles with his daughter, but my skills don’t lie in tracking and recovery. You must have another Collector better equipped to—”

“We don’t.” Romero’s response was terse and clipped. He either thought Ares should just shut up and do the job, or he wasn’t happy with the Boss sending Ares out on such a low-level task. “Everyone else is on assignment. Or about to be. The Boss wants you on this.”

Which meant there was no further discussion. Ares ground his back teeth together. This wasn’t going to be fun. “Understood.” He wasn’t going to give Romero grief over what was out of the man’s control. Ares flipped the card in his fingers. “I’ll be at the address listed at the appointed time.”

“Thank you. We expected nothing less. Javier’s assistant will fill you in on anything else you need to know when you arrive.” Romero hung up.

Ares put his phone and the playing card on the counter next to each other. Searching for this kid was going to mean dealing with not only Javier’s assistant, but also talking to supernaturals and humans. That meant full leathers to avoid accidental contact. He had less than fifty minutes to get to the address on the card by the time indicated.

Time to suit up. And, on this Collection, try not to kill someone.

With Javier out searching and Lucinda making phone calls to all of Dahlia’s friends’ parents, Seraphina had been left to await the arrival of the help Javier had called in. Some sort of local agency that helped when the police couldn’t. She wasn’t completely sure what that meant, but Javier had powerful friends, and for that much, she was glad. In this situation, there was no string that shouldn’t be pulled to get Dahlia home.

She’d found Dahlia’s iPad and was now scrolling through her social media sites, looking for clues as to where the girl might have gone. Thank Mount Olympus, Dahlia’s passwords had been amazingly easy to suss out, something Seraphina had kept secret from the girl since the last time she’d run. Dahlia would be furious if she knew Seraphina had been accessing her social media, but Seraphina didn’t care. Keeping Javier’s daughter safe mattered more than keeping her happy.

An electronic ping sounded, and a message popped up from one of Dahlia’s friends.

C u @ Lux, baby! We’re gonna get stupid 2nite!

Lux was an exclusive Vegas hotspot on the Strip that catered to high rollers and celebrities. And stupid was the appropriate word. Vegas could be a dangerous place for an adult if they weren’t careful. For a fifteen-year-old teenage girl with the carelessness of youth guiding her, things could go downhill very quickly. If Dahlia and her friends were headed to Lux, they must have scored some good fake ID’s, which meant they were already starting the evening off on the wrong foot.

She stared at the message flashing on the iPad’s screen. “Well, Dahlia, your fun’s not going to last long—” The door chimes rang. “Perfect timing.” Seraphina didn’t bother checking the front-door security cam before opening the door. She already knew whoever was on the other side had been sent to help by Javier’s connection.

That knowledge didn’t fully prepare her for the man standing there. Pale as moonlight and dressed in head-to-toe black leather right down to a pair of gloves, he appeared as the personification of death with the visage of a skull and red-ember eyes. She blinked, and the image disappeared, leaving the man behind. She chalked it up to a trick of the shadows. She’d seen stranger things.

“You were expecting me?” he asked.

“Yes, sorry, it’s been a rough evening.” If he was death, death was also strikingly handsome in a cold, European way. She shook that thought from her head and made herself smile and extend her hand. He was, after all, here to help. “I’m Seraphina, Javier’s assistant.” It was easier than explaining the whole muse thing. “You must be the one the agency sent over.”

He glanced at her hand but made no effort to take it. “Yes. I’m Ares.” He tipped his head toward the house’s interior. “May I?”

“Yes, of course.” She dropped her hand. So, straight to business then. That was fine. She could deal with that. All that mattered was getting Dahlia home. She moved to let him in, then shut the door behind him. Even in the house’s well-lit interior, the darkness that surrounded him clung like an aura. What was this guy’s deal?

He turned to face her. “When did Dahlia leave?”

“As best we can tell, sometime this afternoon. The housekeeper is calling all of her friends’ homes and alerting the parents. Javier is searching the galleria, but a message just came through on one of her social media accounts from a friend. I have a feeling we’ll find her at Lux tonight.”

“She’ll need a fake ID.”

“Yes. I’m going to guess she already has one.” Seraphina sighed. “Or one of her friends knows someone who works at Lux. Otherwise, they have no hope of getting in. The girl is spoiled, though, so she may just assume getting in won’t be an issue.” She quickly added, “Spoiled by her mother. Not Javier. That’s why she ran. She thinks he’s too restrictive.”

Ares nodded. “I see. We should go then. Find a spot inside to watch the door.”

She glanced down at her jeans and made a face. “Agreed, but I can’t go like this. They’ll never let me in.”

He held out his gloved hands. “Am I dressed all right?”

Weird question. Did the guy not get out much? She nodded. “I’m sure the rock god, full-body leather thing is perfect.” She pointed behind her. “Kitchen’s that way if you want a drink or something. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Cool?”

His gaze narrowed for a moment, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her. Maybe he was picking up on the gentle vibe of persuasion that surrounded all muses. With an almost imperceptible nod, he answered, “Cool.”

She jogged upstairs, knowing she should be thinking about Dahlia, but instead found herself unable to keep her mind off the enigma of a man who’d walked through the front door. He hadn’t smiled once. Not that smiling was mandatory, but a muse’s influence tended to have a certain effect on people.

She paused at her bedroom door and glanced down toward the kitchen. He was people, wasn’t he? She knew there were a lot of…strange creatures in town. Her mother had raised her not to mix with supernaturals, teaching her that being a demigoddess wasn’t nearly the same thing, so Seraphina had never sought them out.

Her brow furrowed. Just exactly who had Javier called on for help?

Ares closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the intriguing aroma of sugar and smoke left behind by Javier’s assistant. “Seraphina,” he whispered, letting the name slide over his tongue like a sip of cold water. It had been so long since he’d been around an ordinary human woman, he’d forgotten how wonderful they could smell. If Seraphina actually was an ordinary human woman.

He wasn’t so sure. She seemed to…glow in a way he hadn’t seen another woman do. Maybe he was imagining things. Or he’d had too many experiences with dying mortals to remember what a healthy one looked like.

There was definitely something about her. Maybe it was the gleam of intelligence in her gaze as she’d appraised him. Humans could usually sense that death surrounded him. And that usually led to fear, but Seraphina, if she had sensed that, hadn’t reacted in that way.

Was there a chance she was some kind of supernatural? He shook his head. This was the most he’d thought about a woman whose soul he wasn’t about to Collect since he’d become a Collector. Well, since Lena, and she wasn’t someone he ever wanted to think about again. No, Seraphina was much more appealing.

Appealing? Had he actually just thought that? Damn. That was not a good sign. Time to put an end to any possible distraction. He didn’t need Seraphina to accompany him to the nightclub and bring the girl home. He had Dahlia’s picture. He could handle it.

He glanced at the door. He should just go. Except, this job was important to the Boss. Ares frowned. He didn’t want Javier’s assistant reporting back that he’d ditched her. No, he’d tell her face-to-face. Maybe make up some excuse that she should stay here in case Dahlia returned on her own. That would work.

The soft click-clack of heels crossed the foyer floor behind him. He turned.

His mouth came open, but no words came out. Because he had nothing to say.

Seraphina’s nightclub-going attire was a very small, glittery black dress, tall black heels, a slick of red lipstick and her dark hair twisted up in such a way that highlighted the delicate curves of her neck, shoulders and collarbone. A single curl escaped, dangling past her cheekbone. Simple diamond earrings shed sparks of light over her skin. Her only other jewelry was a curious gold star around her neck.

His fingers clenched involuntarily with the forbidden urge to touch her. He forced his hands to relax. “You should stay here,” he blurted.

“What?” She frowned at him. “I don’t think so. Javier expects me to bring her home.”

“I’ll bring her back. You should be here in case she returns while I’m gone.”

Seraphina tipped her head to one side, her expression full of disbelief. “Lucinda, the housekeeper, is here. And if you think you’re going to convince Dahlia to go anywhere with you, you clearly don’t understand teenage girls.”

That he did not. Maybe he would have to bring Seraphina after all. The thought of spending the evening with so much temptation so close did not please him.

“Besides, Dahlia trusts me. She’ll listen to—did you just growl?” She put her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong? Why don’t you want me going? Think I’m going to get in your way? Or that I’m going to ruin your game?”

“What? No. None of those things.” But he couldn’t say he didn’t want her going because he was afraid that her undeniable feminine charms were going to get lodged in his head until he could think of nothing else. Or worse, that he might accidentally take her soul. The muscles in his jaw tightened. “You can come.”

She snorted. “Like you had any say in it anyway.”

And now she was mad at him. That would not make for an easy night. He took a breath. “You look very beautiful.”

The hard line of her mouth softened, and the upset left her gaze. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “We should go.”

She reached for a set of keys on the counter.

“I can drive,” he offered.

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. It would give his hands something to do.

“Okay.” She went to a panel on the wall, pushed a button and spoke into it. “Lucinda, I’m headed out to look for Dahlia with the guy that place sent over. If you need me, call.” Then she returned to his side. Closer, this time.

Unable to help himself, he inhaled again. “Your perfume is nice.”

One side of her mouth quirked up at a curious angle. “I’m not wearing any.”

“Oh.” He closed his mouth and stood there, his standard level of discomfort around people ratcheting up.

“C’mon, let’s go.” She led him back to the front door, through the portico and to the circular drive. She pointed at his Maybach, her face skeptical. “That’s your car?”

“Is there an issue with it?” He enjoyed nice cars. They were one of the few pleasures he had in life.

“It’s gorgeous, but it’s also a two-seater. That’s going to make it hard to get Dahlia back here.”

He hadn’t thought of that. Obviously. Relief and a little disappointment swept through him. “You’ll have to take your car and follow me, then.”

She shook her head. “And pass up a chance to ride in this? No way. When we get a hold of Dahlia, I’ll call Javier to come get her.” She grinned. “Then you can bring me home, and I’ll get to ride in this twice.” She hitched one shoulder. “And there’s no way they’re not letting us in when we pull up in this beast.”

She’d get to ride in it twice.

Spacious was not a word that could be used to describe the Maybach’s interior, even with the windows down. And now he was going to be inches away from her twice. Taking a deep breath only served to fill his lungs with her perfume again. “Then…good,” was the best response he could come up with. He moved to open her door, disgusted with himself. Was this what proximity to a human woman did to him? Tangled his tongue?

She slipped into her seat, nimbly easing her long, bare legs into the car. He was staring and couldn’t stop himself. She caught his gaze, followed his sight line to her legs and laughed softly.

As if she was used to it. Maybe she was. He shut the door and made his way around to the driver’s side. A beautiful woman like her must get plenty of attention. It was surprising she wasn’t attached—he stopped at the rear of the vehicle. He was truly an idiot. Of course she was laughing at him. No doubt, she was more to Javier than just his assistant.

That must be a fancy way of putting one’s girlfriend on the payroll. The realization that he’d become so caught up over someone who wouldn’t even be interested or available drenched every wayward thought in ice-cold reality. He set his jaw, walked to his door and got in.

Her closeness wasn’t nearly the issue it had been a few moments ago. If she touched him, so be it. He was covered in leather. She was perfectly safe.

“This car…this car is amazing,” she cooed.

“I’m sure Mr. Bares owns some fine vehicles as well.” Ares pulled out of the drive and pointed them in the direction of downtown and Lux.

She lifted her hand toward the dash just as he went to adjust the air. He jerked his hand back. Gloves or not, it was instinct. She gave him a strange look but said nothing, finishing her reach to caress the dash. “He doesn’t have any Maybachs.”

“They’re no longer in production.”

She was staring at him. Hard. “This is pretty forward of me, but what do you do that you can afford a car like this?”

He sneaked a look at her. There was no guile in her eyes. She really didn’t know what he did. “I work for an organization that helps keep Las Vegas safe.”

She frowned. “But you’re not a cop, right? Because you don’t look like any police officer I’ve ever seen.”

“No, I’m not a cop. It’s a private organization.”

She twisted in her seat to face him. “Private as in not government related or private as in if you tell me you have to kill me?”

Her words caused his body to tense. There was no reason he couldn’t tell her who he worked for. In fact, it might help him figure her out a bit. The Collectors were well known among the supernatural population in Las Vegas. If he told her, and she showed no recognition, then she had to be human. “Not government related. The Sin City Collectors.” He watched her face. “Which makes me a Sin City Collector.”

She squinted at him. “You…collect things?”

Definitely human. Or human with too little supernatural blood to recognize it. Damn it. That just made her more vulnerable to his touch. It also meant he’d have to be a little vague in his explanation. “In a way. We help out in cases where the police can’t. Or people don’t want police assistance for one reason or another.”

Her eyes brightened, and she nodded, grinning slightly. “You’re a mercenary.”

“No, I’m not. I do what’s necessary to protect the citizens of this city.” Which meant taking the souls of those intent on hurting others, human and supernatural alike.

“So you’re a protector.” She put the word in air quotes. “Do you get paid for this job?”

“Yes, but—”

“Have you ever killed anyone?”

He kept his mouth shut. “We should be there soon.” For a car that could achieve two hundred and eighteen miles an hour, the Maybach suddenly seemed incredibly slow.

She leaned back against the window. “You have killed someone.” Then she straightened and leaned in toward him again, almost making him flinch. “Are you one of those supernaturals? I know Vegas has them. What are you? A shapeshifter? Like a werewolf? Do you howl at the moon?” Her index finger tapped the console between them. “No! I know. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”

“I’m none of those things.” Technically true. He was only partly one of them.

“Are you going to bite me?”

“I am not a vampire.” Half a lie.

“But you are some kind of supernatural, right?” She shifted in her seat and shrugged, the lights of the city washing over her like a kaleidoscope. “I don’t think I’ve ever met one before. It’s cool. You don’t have to tell me. It’s not like you know me or anything. So long as I’m not in any danger from you.”

He kept his mouth closed. How was he supposed to answer that?

She tilted her head. “You really should tell me, though.”

Maybe she was a supernatural and didn’t know it, because right now it felt like she might have the superpower of wearing a person down. He sighed. “I am a wraith.”

She was quiet for a moment. “That’s pretty…I mean, that’s really… What’s a wraith, exactly?”

As if the universe was finally on his side, he pulled up to the valet stand at Lux and threw the car into park. “We’re here.”

The valet opened her door before she could ask any more questions. Ares got out and went around to meet her on the other side.

The valet was helping her out of the car, but his attention was strictly on the Maybach. “Bro, sick ride.”

Ares held the young man’s gaze for a hard moment. “There’s a hundred-dollar bill stuck in the visor. There’s another when I leave if the car’s in the same shape it is now.”

The valet nodded like his head was ball bearings. “You got it, bro. No worries.”

Ares gestured toward the front door of the club, allowing Seraphina to lead. She stayed right where she was, watching the valet drive off. “Two hundred dollars? I get that it’s a nice car, but that seems a little excessive.”

“There are only two of this model in the world.” Why he was justifying his actions to her, he had no idea, other than the peculiar feeling that it mattered what she thought.

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, two bills was a good move.” She shook her head. “That’s ballsy.”

“What is?”

“The fact that you even drive it.” She turned to look at the entrance. “Bouncers look like they mean business. But if you’re willing to spend two bills on a tip, I bet you can pretty much get in anywhere. I had no idea I was out with such a high roller.”

“I’m not a…” Telling her he never left his house except for Collections would make him sound like a crazy recluse. “We should go in. See if we’ve beat Dahlia here.”

She nodded. “Then we can continue our conversation inside.”

“What conversation?”

“About what kind of”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“supernatural you are.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already moving toward the velvet rope. Part of him wondered if this whole mission wasn’t Romero’s way of getting him out of the house. If that was the case, Ares and Romero were going to have a long talk about boundaries when this thing was put to bed.

As soon as Seraphina spotted the muscle at the door, she knew getting into the club wouldn’t be a big deal despite the line that had formed. It was early, which meant the bouncers were already on guard for underdressed tourists, but they were men. Susceptible to her muse powers. She walked up to the VIP entrance, glancing back once to make sure Ares was still with her. He was. She shifted her focus to the bouncer on duty. “Hiya.”

Already in the process of turning an apparently undesirable couple away, he grunted back. His gaze skimmed her, then went right to Ares, who currently looked like he’d rather kill someone than spend time at a nightclub. “Evening.”

“He and I are together.” She lazily pointed at Ares, but kept her eyes on the bouncer and brightened her smile.

The bouncer finally looked at her and nodded, his expression softening. His hand went to the rope, but he made no move to lift it. “Your friend looks Goth. This isn’t a Goth club.”

“He’s European. His football team lost or something, and he’s a little cranky.” Beside her, Ares growled under his breath. She leaned in toward the bouncer conspiratorially. “He’s also loaded. Wouldn’t you love to let us in? I know I could really use some fun.”

The bouncer hesitated, as if thinking over what she’d said. Then the hint of a smile played in his eyes, and he seemed to forget about Ares. “Yeah, sure. Pay at the door.” He unhooked the latch and let them through.

“Thank you.” Sometimes, it was nice to have the sway of her abilities. Unlike with Ares, who didn’t seem affected by her gifts. At least not like every other man she’d ever met. That little fact also made him more intriguing than any other man she’d ever met. Swirl into that cocktail his undetermined supernatural status—other than being a wraith, whatever that was—and she was willing to admit that she was dying to talk to him some more.

He was a little strange, but then, she was a demigoddess. If that didn’t qualify as odd, nothing did.

The doorman nodded as they approached. “That will be eight dollars for the two of you.”

Before she could dig into her purse, Ares handed the man another hundred. “Keep it.”

“Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.” He reached for the door handle.

She quickly pulled up Dahlia’s picture on her phone and showed it to him. “Have you seen this girl tonight?”

He studied the picture for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Can’t say that I have, sorry.”

Ares held out another folded hundred-dollar bill between his gloved fingers. “She shows up, you let her in, then let us know. We’ll be seated in the Platinum Lounge.”

The doorman took the money, his brows lifting slightly. “Yes, sir. Enjoy your night.”

He opened the door. The rhythmic bass of house music vibrated the air as they walked in. She lifted her head to speak to Ares. “What’s the Platinum Lounge?

“VIP section.”

“Then you’ve been here before?”

“Yes.” He shifted to let someone pass without touching him.

She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t, so she let it drop. He wasn’t much of a talker. Or a mingler, apparently. It only deepened her desire to figure him out. The club inside was beautiful, but Seraphina’s concern was for Dahlia. “Why don’t you stay here by the door while I make a quick loop to see if she’s already gotten in?”

Ares nodded as she left him behind. Despite the club’s size and the amount of patrons already there, it took her only a few minutes to scope the place out and determine that Dahlia wasn’t among them. As she returned to Ares, he was talking to another man. The guy was young and definitely not an employee, based on the way he was dressed. Ares was angled away from him, arms crossed on his chest like a barrier. She had a hard time imagining he was afraid of anything, but he certainly carried himself in a very guarded way. There was definitely something going on with him.

The other man caught her gaze and nodded as she approached. “Hello.”

“Hello.” She looked at Ares. “Is this a friend of yours?”

“No. This is Leo. He was just leaving.”

Leo frowned. “I have a patrol to finish—”

“I’m here,” Ares interrupted. “You’re done. You have a problem with that, tell your uncle.”

Leo shook his head and scowled as he left.

Ares called over a server, flashed more money and within minutes, he and Seraphina were being ushered into the Platinum Lounge. He selected a spot with a perfect line of sight to the door, an opulent semicircular seating area with one large sofa done in tufted indigo velvet and two matching leather chairs set atop a plush Turkish rug. The whole section was draped with three walls of heavy Moroccan silk and lit by an ornate crystal chandelier that shed only enough light to set its crystals ablaze. Candles flickered on end tables, their soft glow repeated in the mirrored dishes holding them.

The whole thing was like a sultan’s tent. No wonder the rich and famous liked to hang out here.

Ares looked at her. “Is this all right? It has a good view.”

“It’s perfect.” She took a seat on the couch.

“Excellent.” He immediately sat next to her, but left enough room that another person could have fit between them. He held a hand up to get a server’s attention, but kept his eyes on Seraphina. “Would you like something to drink?”

She hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t. Being that we’re here to nab Dahlia and all.” Although, it took a fair amount of alcohol to affect her, which explained why full-blooded gods and goddesses had such reputations for excessive drinking.

“As you wish. What would you be drinking, if you were?”

“Perrier-Jouët rosé in the flower bottle.” Champagne was a major weakness. Again, probably due to her heritage.

He glanced up at the server, who was waiting expectantly. “Do you have that wine?”

“It’s champagne,” Seraphina whispered. How did he not know that?

“Do you have that champagne?” he corrected.

“Yes, sir,” the server answered. “We do.”

“Good. Bring us a bottle of that, and I’d like a bottle of your best single malt.”

The server nodded, then paused. “I’ll need a credit card.”

He whipped out a black rectangle and laid it on the table, causing the server to have to pick it up.

Seraphina waited until the server had gone. “Run out of cash?” she teased.

“No. That was my company card.” The slightest hint of wickedness played in his dark eyes, and for a moment, she could almost imagine he was human.

She laughed softly. “You didn’t have to do that, you know. We might only be here a few minutes.”

He leaned back on the velvet couch. “True, but we might also be here for hours. Either way, we’re taking up the club’s space and asking them to accommodate us, so…” He shrugged.

Seraphina crossed her legs and got comfortable. “You come here a lot?”

“No. I’ve only been here once. On a Collection.”

“For that private company?”

He nodded, his gaze now fixed on the club’s entrance.

“What was it?”

“We don’t discuss Collections.”

“Didn’t it go well?”

“It went perfectly.”

His profile was gorgeous in this light. Like he’d been carved from stone. She scooched closer. “Then why can’t you talk about it?”

That got his attention, but only for a moment. He glanced at the space between them, then went back to watching the door. “Because I can’t.”

She settled in beside him, crossed her arms and started watching the door, too. “Is this more of that top-secret government stuff?”

“It’s not a government organization.”

“Okay, top-secret agency stuff. I feel I should mention I’m a really good listener.”

He grimaced like she’d hit a nerve. “Are you always this persistent?”

“No.” Because most people spilled their guts around her. Scratch that—all people. Except this guy. Had she actually come across the one person who wasn’t influenced by her? The thought sent a shiver of excitement through her. The idea that there might be someone out there who would react honestly to her was more stimulating than she’d realized. “I just figured, you know, if we’re going to sit here, we could at least talk.”

“Fine. Pick a subject.”

“How about that last Collection?” She burst out laughing as soon as she’d said it, unable to help herself.

He shook his head slowly, the slightest hint of a smile warping his mouth. “No.”

“Then let’s go back to what kind of supernatural you are.”

He looked around. Was he worried someone had heard her? “I’m a wraith.”

“You mentioned that. I still don’t know what that means.”

His gaze shifted to her, his dark eyes piercing. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

He turned his head away again. “How long have you and Javier been together?”

She laughed, her nose crinkling. “If I had a dollar for every time someone thought he and I are an item…”

“You aren’t?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

“No. I work for the man. That’s it.”

“How did you get to be Javier’s assistant?”

“I was the most qualified for the job.” Not a lie.

“In what way?”

“I, uh…” Who she was—what she was—wasn’t something she shared with anyone. Her value as a muse could put her life in danger. Her mother’s past was proof of that. But this man, by his own admission, was a protector. Did that protection extend to her?

He snorted softly. “I see. It’s fine for me to spill my guts, but you don’t want to do the same.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” She sighed. Fair was fair. He had confessed he was a wraith. Not that she had any idea what that was. “I assume you’re good at keeping secrets?”

“There’s no one better.”

“I’m a muse. Half muse, actually. My mother is a muse. My father…” She looked away, her smile tight-lipped. “No idea who my father was. Just a guy who didn’t stick around.”

He squinted and was about to speak when the server returned, two other servers in tow, with their bottle service. The girl quickly went to work setting up the ice bucket for the champagne, the flutes, Ares’s scotch and glasses, along with a separate ice bucket that held perfectly spherical balls of ice for his drink. Another of the servers presented them with a tray of cheese, crackers, grapes and chocolate-covered strawberries flecked with gold leaf, while the third opened the bottles and poured drinks for Ares and Seraphina.

At last, the other two servers left, and the girl smiled at them. “Is there anything else I can bring you?”

Ares raised his brows at Seraphina. She shook her head.

“We’re good,” Ares said to the server. “Thank you.”

“Enjoy your evening. I’ll be back to check on you.” With a nod, she left.

Seraphina picked up her flute. “How can I not drink this when it’s right here in front of me, bubbling away in all that happy pinkness?”

He raised his own glass and sipped the amber liquid.

“What?” Seraphina asked. “No toast?”

He pulled the tumbler away from his mouth. “I’m no good at those.”

“I am. I go to a lot of social functions with Javier.” She lifted her flute higher. “Here’s to new friends with old secrets.”

He didn’t drink. “I don’t need new friends.”

“Yes, you’re a regular Dale Carnegie.” She drank her champagne, then set the flute down. It was delicious, but she needed to keep her head. Especially since she was beginning to regret confessing her true identity to this guy. That might have been a mistake. Of course, he hadn’t even commented on it. Maybe he hadn’t heard her.

He swirled the tumbler, causing the scotch to slosh around the sides. “A wraith is the offspring of a vampire and a reaper.” His eyes slanted toward her for a second, as if he gauged her reaction, but then he was all focus again, gaze pinned to the door. “What’s a muse? Or do you mean in the general sense of you inspire him?”

Holy Zeus. He was a vampire. Half of one, but still. His confession took away her regret. So he was a little socially awkward. Everyone had their shortcomings. It was strangely attractive that he wasn’t perfect. “Yes, I inspire him.” She was so used to men who thought themselves kings of industry, men with egos the size of Texas, but this guy, for all his money and stupidly exquisite car, seemed to have no inflated self-image.

If anything, he wasn’t quite as aware as he should have been about how powerful an aura he projected. “But,” she continued, “it’s more than that. My mother was literally one of the Greek muses.”

“Doesn’t that make you a goddess?”

“Demigoddess, but yes.”

He nodded. “That explains why you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” That compliment had followed her through life, enough that she’d come to disregard it, but from him it sounded so genuine, she believed him.

“Does your mother work for an artist also?”

“She did. Once upon a time. My mother’s…not in my life anymore.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She didn’t correct him. She didn’t correct anyone when they thought her mother was dead. It ended the questions. Kept her from having to explain that her mother hadn’t passed away so much as reinvented herself in order to leave her past behind. Her daughter included. For her own good, Cleo had always said, but Seraphina couldn’t help but feel abandoned. She knew her mother’s life had gotten complicated. It happened with muses who spent too much time on the mortal plane. People begin to want them more than was healthy. One of Cleo’s admirers had lost touch with reality. Threatened her.

Why her mother hadn’t sought refuge at Mount Olympus, Seraphina didn’t know. And it wasn’t a question Cleo would ever answer. There were a lot of those. Seraphina had learned to live with her own best guesses.

But the loss of her mother was part of the reason she would do everything in her power to get Dahlia back and keep Javier from experiencing the same break in his own family. The memories threatened to pull her into sadness, and the mood between her and Ares had grown uncomfortably somber. She put on a smile and changed the subject. “You’re not hard to look at yourself, you know. Must be that vampire blood.”

“Perhaps.” His lower lip twitched. She’d almost gotten him to smile.

She put her hand to her neck. “Speaking of blood, do you drink that or…”

“I can. I don’t. I eat and drink like most supes.”

“Good to know.” She looked at him with new eyes. “Supes? Supernaturals?”

He nodded.

“And the reaper part? As in grim reaper?”

“Yes. If you’re a muse, why don’t you know more about supernaturals?”

“It’s just the way I was raised. We’re…two different worlds.” Two that were better left separate, according to her mother.

He glanced at his watch. “No sign of Dahlia yet. You sure she’s coming here?”

“That’s what her friend said.” She was about to pull Dahlia’s iPad from her purse to have another look at the girl’s social media when her phone rang. She answered it. “Javier, have you found her?”

“No.” Raw pain edged his voice. “Worse. I’ve received a ransom note. She’s been kidnapped.”

As soon as they were back in the car, Ares called Romero. “Everything’s changed. Bares received a ransom note. The girl’s been kidnapped.”

Romero cursed softly. “Whatever you need to get her back, we’ll do it. The Boss will want Mr. Bares to have our complete support. Whatever’s necessary.”

“Understood.” Ares had never had a mission that involved saving a life. He wasn’t about to screw this up.

“Where are you now?”

“In the car, headed back to Bares’s.”

“Is his assistant with you?”

“Yes.” Ares glanced over at Seraphina. She stared straight ahead, her mind clearly elsewhere. She looked like she was either about to cry or punch someone. Maybe both.

“Okay. After you get there and see the letter, let me know if you get any clues off it. We’ve had kidnappings before, but it’s been awhile.” Romero growled. “Damn shame it had to involve one of the Boss’s personal friends.”

“When’s the last time there were kidnappings?”

“Maybe a decade ago?”

“The gob—Gozer individual?”

“Yes.”

A hunch formed in Ares’s head. “Are there any pixies on staff?”

“Hmm. Yes. And that’s a brilliant idea. Pixies have a knack for locating children.”

“Amongst other things.” Pixies had a natural enemy that made them experts on certain kinds of supernaturals. One he was starting to think might be behind all this. He could hear Romero typing.

“Okay, I’m sending another Collector over to help. A pixie by the name of Minka. She’s at your disposal until you find the girl.”

“And after the child is safe, should I treat the kidnapper like all the rest of my Collections?”

“For now, take him into custody.”

Another new assignment. Leaving the Collected alive. “Understood. I’ll call you back as soon as I’ve seen the note.” Ares hung up and tucked the phone away. He sneaked another look at Seraphina. “You all right?”

“Yes. No.” She pushed the long, loose curl by her cheek out of the way. “I can’t believe she’s been taken.”

“We’ll find her. It’s what the Collectors do.”

She finally looked at him. “We? You mean you and the pixie you mentioned?”

So she had been listening. “Yes. My boss is sending another Collector, a pixie, to help. They’re good at locating children, but I’m also hoping she can confirm a hunch of mine.” Seraphina nodded and went back to staring out the windshield. She looked so sad. Ares wanted to distract her, but he wasn’t great at small talk. Wasn’t even that sure what to say in a situation like this. “I told you I was at that club before.”

She nodded absently, like she was only half-listening.

“Only once before, actually. See, Lux is a human club, so there’s really no reason for me to go there unless I’m on a job.”

She turned, a slight interest in her eyes. “That job you won’t talk about?”

He nodded. “I tracked a demon there.”

That hooked her. “A demon? What kind?”

“A lethe demon. They lull humans to sleep, then suck out their brains.”

“Gross.” She grimaced, but didn’t look away. “And he was there to find some victims?”

“Yes. Humans on their own and too intoxicated to know what was happening. Easy pickings.”

“So what did you do?”

“Waited until he found a victim, followed them outside and…put an end to him.”

“You mean you killed him.”

Ares paused. “Yes.”

She relaxed. “Will you kill the kidnapper?”

“I’ve been directed to take him into custody.”

She thought about that for a moment. “Who was that guy, Leo, you were talking to in the club tonight? What was he talking about when he said he had to finish his patrol?”

“Another Collector. Well, a Collector in training. It’s standard procedure for rookie Collectors to patrol places like that and keep an eye out for supes targeting humans. That’s how we found out about the lethe demon to begin with. But there was no reason to have two of us there.”

“If it’s standard procedure, then why was that your first time there? Didn’t you have to do those patrols, too?”

She was quick, he’d give her that. “No. I have very specific abilities that have allowed me a certain level of privilege. Like skipping the typical rookie training.”

“Didn’t you have to train at all?”

“Not exactly. And don’t ask me what my very specific abilities are, because I’m not going to tell you.” He didn’t need her afraid of him, not when a child’s life was at stake.

A few moments of silence passed. She sniffed. “Poor kid. Must be scared out of her mind.”

He searched for something else to distract her. “That necklace you wear. Is that a muse thing? Or a gift from Mr. Bares? I’ve never seen a nine-pointed star before.”

Her fingers went to it. “Not a muse thing exactly, although there are nine muses. And no, not a gift from Javier. I’ve worn it all my life. My mother said it’s an amulet of protection. A gift to her for me from one of the other gods.” She let it drop. “You’re observant.”

“Part of what I do.” He pulled into Bares’s neighborhood.

She sighed and looked toward the house. “Do you think Dahlia could have been taken by another of those lethe demons?”

“Not if there’s a ransom note. Lethe demons aren’t known for their literacy.”

She let out a breath. “That’s good then, right?”

He parked the car in the drive beside another vehicle, but got out instead of responding. Yes, it was good that Dahlia hadn’t been taken by a lethe demon, but that left a host of other options. Some worse. Hopefully, his hunch was wrong and the perp who’d snagged her was human. That would make things a lot easier.

Seraphina was out of the car before he reached her door. They headed into the house. Voices sounded from another room. She pointed straight ahead. “Living room.”

He followed her in. Javier Bares sat in a large leather chair, head in his hands, in obvious distress. Beside him stood two other women. Seraphina introduced Javier to Ares, but the man only nodded without making eye contact. Then Seraphina introduced the woman in the navy and white housekeeper’s uniform as Lucinda. The other, a petite, serious-eyed blonde, she shook hands with. “You must be Minka?”

The blonde nodded. “Yes. I just got here.”

Seraphina gestured at Ares. “You must know Ares already.”

“I know of him.” Minka’s wary gaze slid over him. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

Very few of the Collectors had been. There wasn’t much need, and he preferred it that way. They knew what purpose he served. That seemed to be enough for those he had met to want to keep their distance. He nodded. He’d never met a pixie before, just as he was sure she’d never met a wraith. That put them on fairly even footing. “What do you need to help us locate the girl?”

Minka pointed at the table between them. On it rested a grimy piece of white paper, nearly illegible black script scrawled over it. “The note and something personal of the girl’s.”

Javier stood. “I can get her jacket.”

“No,” Minka said. “Something more personal.” She stared at the note and tapped a finger to her lip. “Blood would be best—”

Javier moaned. “My baby girl…”

“Hair from her hairbrush will work fine.” Ares shot Minka a warning look. Pixies weren’t known for their tact.

Minka nodded in understanding. “That would do.”

Lucinda piped up. “I’ll get it.” The housekeeper rushed off.

Ares held Minka’s gaze. The pixie might be here to help, but she needed to exercise discretion. He also wanted to fill her in on his idea. “I’d like a word with you in the other room.” She opened her mouth, then apparently thought better and closed it. She strode past him toward the kitchen. He lifted a finger to Seraphina. “We’ll be right back.”

Seraphina had never known pixies existed, let alone met one, but this one was gorgeous. Maybe they were all blond and curvy with an edgy no-nonsense kind of vibe. Very warrior princess. Or Tinker Bell on steroids. But all Minka’s badassery and good looks meant nothing if she couldn’t find Dahlia. Seraphina whispered a prayer to Zeus that Dahlia was safe and that Minka actually could help them.

She went to Javier’s side and sat next to him, putting her arm around his bent shoulders. “We’re going to get her back, Javier.”

He mumbled something in Spanish she didn’t understand.

Lucinda returned and gently set Dahlia’s hairbrush on the table beside the note, then stood, twisting her hands together and looking desperate for something else to do.

Seraphina caught the woman’s attention. “Would you mind fixing Javier a sandwich?”

Lucinda nodded and smiled softly before hurrying into the kitchen.

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Then you’re not fine. You need to keep your strength up for Dahlia.” Seraphina patted his shoulder.

He sighed into his hands and shook his head. “You take good care of me, Seraphina. I should have taken better care of Dahlia.”

The situation was horrifying, but she needed Javier to be present, not wrapped up in guilt, which no doubt was eating at him right now. “This is not your fault in any way. You have to know that.”

At last, Javier lifted his head and faced Seraphina, exhaustion and pain dulling his dark eyes. “What am I going to do? What if something happens to her? I cannot lose her.” With an angry sob, he snatched up the ransom note. “And the bastard who took her wants a million dollars in gold coins. Who asks for gold coins?”

“It’s a strange request, but we’re going to need the money.” Ares strode back into the room with Minka at his side. “Not all of it, but enough to make it look good.”

“You have a plan then?” Seraphina’s heart did a little pang at how handsome a pair he and Minka made. She frowned at that reaction, knowing there was no reason for it.

Ares canted his head to the side. “The beginning of one.”

Javier stood. “I’ll get as much gold as I can. I know it’s after typical business hours, but this is Vegas. It can be done. I’ll do anything to get Dahlia back.”

Minka held out a slip of paper. “You won’t have to work too hard. Go see Claudette Marchon at The Gem Exchange. It’s a high-end pawn and estate jewelry store. I’ve already called her. She’ll stay open until you get there, and she’ll take your check and hold it until the gold can be returned.”

Javier took the paper. “Thank you. I’m leaving right now.” He glanced at Seraphina. “Text me if anything happens.”

“Of course.” Not much else was said until Javier left the living room. Then Seraphina addressed Ares and his Collector companion. “If you have the start of a plan, I take it you also have some idea about who took Dahlia?”

Ares stood on the other side of the table. The shadows seemed to reach for him even in the well-lit space. “I have an idea about the who and the what. Minka’s going to work on the where.”

“Thanks for clearing that up,” Seraphina said sarcastically.

Minka came around to study the ransom note. She picked it up and peered at it closely, then finally lifted it to her nose and inhaled. Then she pulled some of the hair from Dahlia’s brush and wrapped it around her finger. She sat quietly with her eyes closed for a minute. At last, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “I think you’re right, Ares.”

“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” Seraphina was beginning to understand what being a third wheel felt like.

Minka put the note and the tangle of hair back on the table. “Based on the specific request for gold, the location where Dahlia was last seen, the smell lingering on the paper and the sense I’m getting about where Dahlia is, I’d say she was taken by a goblin.”

Seraphina’s brows furrowed as she took a new look at the note. “A goblin?”

Ares snorted softly. “You should know by now there are strange creatures in this city, Seraphina.”

She made a face at him. “So I’m learning. But my skepticism lies more in those things pointing to such a specific creature rather than the creature’s existence.” She picked the note up and sniffed it. “It doesn’t smell like anything but paper and ink to me.”

Minka seemed slightly miffed. Not that Seraphina cared. The pixie put her hands on her hips. “Maybe not to you, but to my highly sensitive nose, that ink smells exactly like goblin blood, which is what goblins tend to write their ransom notes in.”

“Ew. A little warning would have been nice.” Seraphina dropped the note. “Why do they do that?”

Minka shrugged, looking a little too pleased with herself for Seraphina’s liking. “They believe it makes their victims powerless to refuse their requests.”

“Does it?”

The pixie’s laugh trilled through the room. “We just sent your boss off to get gold coins, didn’t we?”

Seraphina glared at her. “You might think his daughter being kidnapped by a goblin is funny, but I don’t. Her life is in danger. Or do you think that’s funny, too?”

The pixie raised her hands. “I don’t think it’s funny.”

“Well, you’ve got a strange way of showing it,” Seraphina shot back.

“Time out,” Ares said. “No one thinks it’s funny.” He turned toward Minka. “Take the hairbrush, the note, whatever else you need and see what you can do to really pinpoint where Dahlia is and find that goblin.”

With a deep sigh, the pixie went to work. “I said I was sorry,” she mumbled.

He lifted his gaze to Seraphina. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“I don’t want to go—” The look in his eyes said this wasn’t just a walk. “Fine.” With Ares on her heels, she went out the French doors at the rear of the house and onto the travertine porch that overlooked the enormous pool and surrounding grounds. Even over the glow of the pool, the Strip was visible in the distance, sparkling like a bracelet of multicolored gems. Beyond it, the mountains were a silhouette of solid black against the sky’s charcoal. She leaned against the railing and tipped her face to look for stars.

Ares took the spot next to her. “Are you okay?”

“No. Should I be?” She shook her head. “Dahlia may be a stubborn, willful child who is spoiled beyond belief, but she’s still a child. She’s got to be scared out of her mind right now. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“Neither do I. And it’s not going to. We’re going to find her, and we’re going to bring her home safe.”

She sighed out a breath, unable to focus on anything but the solid, unmovable mountain range. “Tell me about one of your successful rescues. Make me feel better.”

When he didn’t answer, she looked at him. “Well?”

“I don’t have any.” Even in the dark, his eyes shone with regret.

Anger got the better of her. “I thought you were a Collector. You said you have special skills. What the hell is your job then?”

“I can’t give you that information.”

She flexed her hands out of frustration. “I am so tired of your non-answers.” A few errant tears spilled down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. “Why don’t you call your boss and have him send someone else then?” She turned away.

“Seraphina—”

She held up a hand, a little mortified at how on the verge of losing it she was. She did her best to rein in her emotions. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll do fine,” she said quietly. She sniffed. Too much stress, too much worry. And muses felt things too deeply. She glanced up to see him standing right in front of her. Closer than he’d ever been before. He looked hesitant and uncomfortable. Crying women had that effect on some men. She did her best to lighten the mood. “Thanks for not hugging me and making it worse.”

He swallowed and stayed where he was. “It’s not because I didn’t want to.”

She started to turn away, then faced him again. “Then why didn’t you? You have a thing about contact, don’t you? As in, you don’t like it. Right?”

His jaw worked like he was searching for words. His gaze found the mountain range she’d just been staring at. “We should go in.”

She almost laughed. “I know what your supersecret skill is.”

Fear lit his eyes as he looked at her. “You do?”

She nodded. “It’s the ability to deflect personal questions. You should have been a politician.”

She went toward the French doors, but with a speed she hadn’t known he possessed, he moved to block her path. “Seraphina…”

“Get out of my way.”

But the look on his face told her that wasn’t going to happen. He took up more space than she remembered, his broad body filling her line of sight. His chest rose and fell in a rhythmic, determined way as he spoke. “The reason I don’t have any stories of heroic rescue to tell you is because that’s not who I am. I’m not a hero.” Pain etched lines around his eyes. “I’m the one they send in to clean up after the hero. The one who does the job no one else wants to.” His voice almost broke. “The one everyone else lives in fear of.”

Her anger faded, and she softened her tone. “Why, Ares? What about you would make them fearful?”

“I’m a wraith, Seraphina. The cursed, mutant offspring of a vampire and a reaper. You know why I’m such a rare creature? Because I shouldn’t exist in the first place.” He ground the words out like he was chewing glass. “The touch of my bare skin causes death. My curse is my skill. I don’t save lives, I take them.”

An involuntarily shiver ran through her, and she stepped back, realizing what she’d done only a second after.

His jaw popped to one side, and he raised his head slightly. “Now you understand.”

She understood very well what it meant to have your gift be your burden. But his was so much worse than what she had to deal with. Her heart ached for him. “I’m sure it’s not that—”

“It is.”

Before she could argue further, the French doors burst open behind him, and Minka leaned out, waving the ransom note. “I think I’ve figured out exactly where she is.”

“Good.” Ares nodded. His eyes were focused on Seraphina but blank, as if he’d gone dead inside. “The sooner we can bring her home, the less time you’ll have to endure my presence.”

Ares gave Seraphina an extra berth so that she wouldn’t have to find ways to distance herself from him. The pain of his confession still rippled through him in aftershocks of disgust and pity and self-loathing, so much so that he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

He couldn’t bear to see what he was feeling about himself reflected back at him in her eyes.

Minka began. “Here’s what we know. Goblins burrow. But they’re lazy. If they can find a pre-made burrow, even better.” Minka had her tablet out on the coffee table and was pointing to a section of a map she’d pulled up. “And if this is the goblin we think it is, then he’s most likely in this abandoned gold mine right here in the outskirts of Henderson.”

“Most likely?” Seraphina asked. “Is that the best you can do? I thought you said you had it figured out exactly. What are you basing that guess on?”

Minka tapped the screen, making the map bigger. “I did another reading with the hair from Dahlia’s brush, then added what I got from that to the meeting place for the gold exchange, and with what we know to be true about goblins, or at least this goblin, it’s the only place that makes sense. Most likely is the best I can do, but to me it feels like a certainty.”

Ares took a seat in the chair farthest away from Seraphina. “Do you agree it’s the goblin I suspected, Minka?”

She looked up at Ares. “Yes. I did a quick search on the Collector database, and we’ve had issues with this goblin before. He was apprehended in this same area in 2004 after another series of kidnappings, but escaped two days ago from a maximum-security facility. Goes by the name Gozer One Eye.” She tapped on another tab, and a picture appeared. “This is him.”

Seraphina made a guttural noise of disgust. Ares wondered if some of that wasn’t aimed at him.

He couldn’t argue with her assessment of the image, however. Gozer’s toady, toothy appearance was unsettling at best. “Hard face to forget. Does Romero know?”

Minka nodded. “I just sent him the info.”

As if on cue, Ares’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and checked the screen. A text from Romero.

Change in mission. Do not apprehend. Eliminate.

He typed a message and hit send. Understood. Back to doing what he did best. Eliminating targets was the job he’d been hired to do as a Collector.

“What about the phone number on the ransom note?” Seraphina asked.

“I traced it,” Minka said. “Burner phone. Dead end.”

Javier came barreling into the house. “I’ve got the gold.” He held up a cloth bag, the dull clinking of heavy coins resonating through the space. “Do you know where Dahlia is?”

Seraphina spoke up. “We have enough of an idea to move on it.” She finally looked at Ares. “You said you have a plan. Would you care to share it?”

There was a formal tone in her voice that hadn’t been there before. He was used to being kept at a distance. Preferred it. Except this time. With a short nod, he began. “Javier, you go to the site indicated on the ransom note, then text me when you’re there. Meanwhile, we’re going to the goblin’s burrow to rescue Dahlia. As soon as we’re in position there, I’ll give you the go-ahead to text the goblin. That’ll draw him out of the burrow and give us a chance to extract Dahlia. Seraphina will come with me to bring the girl home. As soon as your daughter is safe, I’ll take care of the goblin.”

Javier looked puzzled. “Don’t you think he’ll be bringing Dahlia with him for the exchange?”

Minka stood. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bares, but goblins, this one especially, don’t do exchanges. He’ll take your gold, but he’s not going to give you your daughter. Chances are, she’ll be trussed up somewhere in his burrow until he can return.”

Javier remained confused. “Why? What does he want with her?”

Minka’s mouth thinned to a hard line, and she glanced at Ares. He nodded at her. He was used to be being the bad guy. He explained, “There is no delicate way to put this. Goblins are devourers of human flesh. I’m sorry.”

Javier paled and stumbled toward the couch, crossing himself and almost dropping the coins. He leaned on the back of it, breathing heavily. “Please don’t let my baby die.”

Ares got to his feet. “That’s not going to happen.” Not so long as he had a damn thing to say about it. “Now is not the time to give up, Mr. Bares. Now is the time to find your courage. We need you. You’ve got to go to that drop point and play your part. You can’t let on that you know anything. Just give him the gold and act like you believe him when he says he’s going to bring your daughter to you. If you don’t lure him out, it’s going to be much more difficult to save Dahlia.”

Slowly, Javier regained his composure. “You’re right.” He straightened. “I can do this. I will do this. When do you want me to go?”

Ares glanced at a small crystal clock on an end table. “Go now, but remember, text me when you get there but nothing else until I say. I’ll give you my number.” He looked over at Seraphina. “You should change into something more suitable for the desert.” Preferably something the exact opposite of the tight little black dress she still had on. It was growing more difficult to look at how beautiful she was and know that, for him, she was completely forbidden.

She stood and gave him a curt nod. “I’ll be quick.”

Minka’s gaze followed Seraphina out of the room, then flipped to Ares when she was out of sight. “You two have a fight or something?”

“What makes you think that?”

The pixie laughed. “Before you walked out onto that patio, neither one of you could keep your eyes off the other one. Now you won’t look at her, and she’s glaring daggers.” She sat back on the couch. “Did you tell her about your…you know, what you do?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes.”

Minka tsked and shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it, but I guess you’re used to not having any physical contact at this point, though, huh?”

He stared at her. “You never get used to it.”

She licked her lips. “Yeah, sorry, I guess not. Hey, didn’t you date that chick, Lenora or something?”

“Lena.” He frowned. What else did the other Collectors know about him?

Minka laughed. “You sure can pick ’em.” She looked in the direction Seraphina had gone. “What kind of supe is she?”

“She’s not. Not technically. She’s the daughter of a Greek muse. A demigoddess.”

Minka chuckled. “Are you kidding me? Why are you all broken up about not being able to touch her? She’s a demigoddess!”

He shrugged. “So?”

“Doesn’t that make her immortal?”

The thought had never occurred to him. “I don’t know. She never said anything about it.” He thought a moment. “No, that can’t be. She told me her mother died. If a full-blooded goddess can die, so can Seraphina.”

Minka crossed her arms and screwed up her face in disbelief. “How does a goddess die? They’re immortal. I swear. Look it up.”

“Look what up?” Seraphina walked back in. The little black dress was gone, replaced by a pair of skinny jeans and hiking boots topped with a snug gray T-shirt and leather jacket. Her hair was down, but pulled back in a ponytail. Except for that one damn, tantalizing curl.

“Nothing.” Why did she have to be so damn beautiful? “Let’s go.”

“I’ll drive,” Seraphina said. “My SUV holds more than two people, and if we’re headed into the desert, the Maybach’s not going to cut it.”

Minka hopped up, held out her hand and jangled her keys. “I’m taking my own car. You two can follow me.” She headed for the door, leaving them alone.

Seraphina caught his gaze. “This outfit suitable enough?”

He checked her over one more time, mostly because he could, and although the sight of her made him ache with a longing he knew he’d never be able to satisfy, he was powerless to stop himself from looking. “Yes,” he whispered. “It’s perfect.”

For the first five minutes of the drive, neither one of them said a word. Seraphina was okay with that, but not for long. Because she really wanted to say something. A million somethings. Anything to break the unbearable tension between them. If they didn’t, working together to save Dahlia wasn’t going to be easy. Her fingers dug into the steering wheel. She just didn’t know where to start.

From his silence, neither did he. Or maybe he was fine with how things were. Maybe that’s what he’d gotten used to. A lifetime without physical contact. Unless it was to take someone’s soul. What did that do to a person? She couldn’t imagine how much pain that would cause. The loneliness would be…excruciating. All those years without a touch or a caress or a kiss or a… “Zeus on a cracker!” She almost drove off the road. She straightened the car and looked at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“I just realized you’ve never had sex.”

He frowned. “I’ve had—I am not discussing this with—”

“It explains so much. No wonder you’re in a bad mood all the time.”

“I’m not in a bad mood all the—”

“I mean, why wouldn’t you be cranky? You can’t even kiss a girl, can you? Assuming you like girls.”

“I like women, thank you very much.” He made a noise that sounded like something between a snarl and a sigh. “Not that I’ve had much experience with them.”

“Or any, I’d imagine.” She bit her bottom lip. “Sorry, that just slipped out.”

“I’ve had some.” He grunted and angled toward the window.

Time to change the subject. “You want to map out the plan for me? I’m new to this rescuing stuff.” As was he. Inwardly, she groaned. Open mouth, insert foot. She sneaked another look at him. He was still turned toward the window. “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“As soon as Gozer leaves the mine, we go in. Minka will stand guard at the entrance. You’ll get the girl and take her home. Minka and I will wait for Gozer to return, and then I’ll deal with him. End of mission.”

She nodded but kept quiet and focused on driving. There was nothing about him—his body language, his tone, the set of his jaw—that said he wanted to keep talking, but it was almost like she could feel his pain. His loneliness. It was more than she could stand. It made her unable to keep her mouth shut. Even so, her voice came out soft and tentative. “We could be friends, you know.”

No response, just more staring out the window.

“We have a lot in common.”

He snorted.

“We do.” She made a left, following Minka farther away from civilization. “You can’t touch people, so you’ve never gotten close to anyone. I get that, I really do. My muse influence means I never know if someone likes me because of me or because they have no other choice, so I don’t have any real friends, either.” She glanced at him. No change. That seemed like enough of an answer.

Too bad for him she was a demigoddess and not about to back down.

Ahead, Minka pulled off onto a desert side road. Seraphina followed, her SUV bumping over the rough trail but capable of handling the new terrain without issue. She decided to push him a little further. See if she could force a response out of him. Something more than a grunt. “We could go out to eat, see a movie, stuff like that.”

“I don’t go out unless I’m on a Collection.”

A tiny smile bent her mouth. She’d take his answer as a small win. “I could come over to your place.”

He finally looked at her. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

She kept her eyes on the road. His words hurt. A lot. Minka pulled to the side and parked. Seraphina did the same, turning off the engine before twisting to look at him. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Ares looked at her long and hard, the light in his eyes undecipherable. “You should be.” Then he opened the door and got out.

Cold desert air whistled past Ares as he walked away from the car. It couldn’t compete with the shame burning in his gut. Seraphina didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that, but it was for her own protection. Her interest in him was both the most wonderful and most awful thing that had ever happened to him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t let it take root. Giving her even the slightest bit of a sign that he was interested in return would only end up in her getting hurt. Being friends with anyone was not an option for him. And even if it was, he didn’t want to be friends with her.

He wanted much, much more. Which made him an idiot for even thinking that way. Kissing her, touching her, being with her was a fantasy that would live only in his mind. One that would have to be enough, because demigoddess or human, he wouldn’t risk taking her soul. He wouldn’t be responsible for her death. There was only so much he could shoulder.

Resolved to his situation, he gave Minka a nod as he walked up. “From here on foot?”

She checked the map on her phone. “Yeah. Not far. Five minutes maybe.”

Seraphina joined them, her expression somewhere in between hurt and anger. She shivered and zipped her leather jacket, then tucked her hands in the pockets. “Let’s go.”

What would it be like to be able to offer her his arms for warmth? To hold that lush body against his? He stared into the desert, forcing the thoughts from his head.

“You know the plan?” Minka asked.

He glanced back in time to see Seraphina’s mouth bunch to one side. “Yes, Ares was kind enough to share that much with me.”

Minka gave them both strange looks, but continued. “All right, this way. And keep your voices down. Sound really carries out here.”

Ares let Seraphina go ahead of him, then followed behind. A chivalrous but stupid decision in retrospect, since it put him in perfect view of her deliciously curved backside. The universe had no plans to stop torturing him.

After a few minutes, Minka lifted her hand and brought them to a halt, pointing behind an outcropping of rock and shrub. They crouched down, then she gestured toward an opening farther ahead where the rock sloped steeply. A couple of rotted planks covered the opening, and a bullet-hole-riddled no-trespassing sign lay on the ground. “That’s the mine,” she whispered.

Ares pulled out his phone. “Texting Javier.” Make contact now.

Two minutes passed before Javier’s reply came. Done.

The chime of a cell phone echoed hollowly through the night. “There’s no signal in that mine when you get in deep,” Minka whispered. “Gozer must have left his phone near the entrance.”

With a nod, Ares hunkered in beside Seraphina, inadvertently resting his arm against hers. There was nowhere else to go unless he got up and walked around to the other side of Minka. He forced himself not to pull away. Layers of leather separated them. There was no way anything could happen.

She glanced down at the contact, then shot him a sarcastic look that seemed to say, Are you sure I’m not in danger?

He frowned but stayed still. As they sat there, listening to the phone ring and waiting for the goblin to leave his burrow, Ares swore he could feel the heat of her through that small point of contact. It became impossible to think about anything else. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to breathe through it, but shutting out everything else just magnified what he was feeling. The warmth of her body, the silk of her skin, the way her breathing would deepen when his fingers—

A soft, scrabbling sound reached them. As a group, they froze and listened harder. The cell phone stopped ringing, but the scrabbling noise grew louder, until finally a creature emerged. With skin the color and texture of a leprous toad, a squat body and thickly muscled arms and legs, the goblin was as hideous as Ares remembered goblins looking. This one had the added specialness of a gnarly black scar that ran from the top of his head down through one eye socket to his cheek.

This was Gozer One Eye, all right.

Gozer tugged at his jumpsuit, a grease-stained outfit that looked suspiciously like it had been stolen from a gas station, and not just because the name on the chest patch read Stan.

The goblin sniffed the air a few times, turning as he did. Every angle was equally hideous. Apparently satisfied everything smelled the way it should, he kicked at the dirt around the entrance of the mine, maybe in an attempt to disguise the tracks he’d made. From the pocket of his ill-fitting jumpsuit, he pulled a phone and stylus, probably a necessary tool because of his sausage fingers. He tapped out a message, then stuck the phone back in his pocket, licked his bulbous lips and grinned. A row of jagged brown teeth gleamed in the thin moonlight.

With a shocking burst of speed, he leaped up, grabbing hold of the rocks above the mine’s entrance, and clambered over them like a spider, disappearing over the ridge.

Ares’s phone vibrated. A new message from Javier.

He just texted he’s on his way.

We saw him leave, Ares texted back. He nodded at the women beside him. “I’ll take the lead.” He got up, stretching his legs as he climbed over the rocks they’d been hiding behind. He made his way to the mine entrance, turned sideways and squeezed between the boards. The two women followed him. He went a few more feet before stopping. The interior was dark, except for the occasional smears of phosphorescence on the rocks. For his eyes, it was more than enough to see by.

Seraphina wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Goblin.” And this one was potent. Probably from how excited he was over the gold he thought he was about to get.

She grimaced. “Goblins smell like onions and feet?”

“Makes them easy to track.” Didn’t mean he didn’t understand her distress. The assault on his supernatural senses was atrocious.

She waved at the air in front of her face. “I guess there’s an upside to everything.”

He tossed his phone to Minka. “You’re on watch. We won’t have a signal once we get farther in.”

She nodded back and tucked the phone into her back pocket. “I know the drill.”

He tipped his head at Seraphina. “Ready?”

“Yes.” She shifted her gaze to look into the darkness beyond them, her lip still curled at the stench. “Let’s find Dahlia and get out of here.”

“That’s the plan.” He started forward, his eyes quickly adjusting to the lack of light.

“Be careful,” Minka called after them.

He raised a hand. Behind him, Seraphina’s soft footfalls filled the space. “What’s the glowy stuff on the wall?”

“You don’t want to know.” He swept a spider web out of the way to keep her from walking through it.

“Sure I do.”

He smirked. “It’s a substance goblins secrete. It’s how they light their burrows.”

“A substance?”

He almost laughed at the revulsion in her voice. “I told you you didn’t want to know.”

“Yes, you did.” She was quiet for a few more minutes, but he sensed her pulse kick up. Like something was making her even more nervous. Then she spoke again, and he understood. “When you said I should be afraid of you…was that because of your touch?”

“Yes. Not because I would ever deliberately hurt you.” He stopped abruptly and turned. “Did you really think—”

She ran into him, her hands coming up to brace herself on his chest. “A little warning would be nice.”

He grabbed her shoulders for a brief second, then let her go just as quickly and backed away. “I’m sorry. I forget that not everyone has my night vision.” He took a breath. It was hard not to be addled by her nearness. “I would never hurt you on purpose. You have to know that.”

She nodded and hugged her arms around her torso. “Hurt is more than physical, you know.”

He frowned. “I understand that, but I don’t follow why you’re telling me.”

“You said you don’t want to be friends with me. Those aren’t exactly words that induce warm fuzzies.” She held her hands up. “Look, I get it. You have issues you’re not ready to deal with—”

“I don’t have—”

“You do.” Her face went stern. “I never should have suggested being friends in the first place. Not sure what I was thinking.”

He stared at the rough-hewn walls. He had no reply that seemed worthwhile.

She nudged a loose rock with her toe. “Do you have any other sharpened senses or just night vision?”

“Speed, strength, hearing, smell, unfortunately—all the things that come with being supernatural.”

She nodded. “I guess demigoddesses don’t get any of those. Or maybe that’s due to my human father. I’m stronger than most humans and probably a little faster, but I think the muse thing is pretty much it for me.” She shrugged. “Can you get any sense of Dahlia being here? Hear her heartbeat? Smell her…blood or whatever vampires can do?”

“None of that yet. But that only means we’re not close enough.” He tapped the rock surrounding them. “This stuff is thick. Makes it hard to get a good reading.”

“We should get going then.”

“Yes.” He started forward. “As soon as I pick up on her, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks.”

Another few feet, and he got what he’d been listening for. Another pulse. “I’ve got her.”

Seraphina’s small gasp of hope encouraged him. “Oh, good.”

“This way.” He took the right side of a fork and barreled on. The goblin’s particular earthy smell was strong, but gave way to a softer, more floral note. Dahlia. A few more yards and he could hear whimpering. He started to increase his speed, but then thought better of it. Leaving Seraphina behind wasn’t going to help the situation, and it was best Dahlia had someone familiar to focus on.

They went around a bend, and the smears of phosphorescence increased as the space opened up into a small cavern.

“Dahlia!” Seraphina pushed past him to rush to the girl.

Dahlia lay on the floor, trussed like a Christmas turkey. She wriggled at the sound of Seraphina’s cry, but the dirty rag stuck in her mouth turned her responses into soft squeals.

Seraphina went to her knees beside the girl, pulled the gag from her mouth and started working on the knots. “It’s okay, Dahlia, you’re safe now. We’re here to get you out and get you home.”

“Seraphina, I’m so scared. That thing said he was going to eat me.”

“That’s not going to happen now.” Ares pulled a large folding knife from his inside coat pocket. “Seraphina, use this.”

When she looked up, he tossed it to her. She reached for it and missed. It skittered across the rocks behind her and into a dark corner.

“My fault.” She jumped up and went to get it. “Hang on, kiddo. You’ll be home before you know it.”

He knelt in front of Dahlia, making eye contact and trying to convey a sense of calm to her. It was something he did right before taking a soul to keep the victim from fighting. In this case, he just wanted the girl to relax so they could get her out safely. “I’m a friend of your father’s. Seraphina’s right. You’ll be home—”

A loud crack rent the stillness. It was followed by Seraphina’s scream. “Ares, help me!”

His head whipped up. Seraphina and the blade were gone. In their place, a gaping hole had opened in the mine floor. He leaped to his feet and ran to it. Splintered boards lined the edges of the hole. He got close and leaned over. He could just make her out as the dust kicked up. She was sprawled on a narrow ledge, but the hole she’d fallen into was deep. The metallic tang of blood rose with the dust, sending a frisson of fear into his gut. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” She grimaced as she tried to move. “I hurt, I can tell you that much.” She lay back down and peered into the darkness above her. “Can you see me? I can’t see a thing.”

“I can see you perfectly. Looks like you fell into an old shaft.”

“Get Dahlia out. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Like hell. I’m not leaving you here.” He dug for his phone, then remembered he didn’t have it. “I’ll be right back. I am not leaving you.”

He scooped the still-bound girl into his arms, careful not to make skin-to-skin contact, and raced back to the entrance of the mine.

Minka stood, waiting. “What’s up?” Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “You found her.”

Ares put Dahlia onto her feet beside Minka. “Get her untied and out of here.”

Minka frowned as she bent to untie the girl. “Where’s Seraphina?”

“Fell down a mine shaft. I’ll get her out. You worry about Dahlia and taking her back to her father’s house.”

“Um, yeah, about her father.” She stood and held out his phone with her free hand. “Javier texted back. The deal’s done. Gozer’s on his way here.”

Ares nodded. “I’ll take care of him, too. That’s what I was hired to do.”

Pain radiated through Seraphina’s body, but thank Olympus, nothing felt broken. She shivered. The air coming up from the shaft was cold, and she worried she might be going into a little bit of shock. She reached around and gingerly touched the back of her head. The knot there was the size of an egg and throbbed so badly she could feel it in her teeth. Something wet trickled past her temple and into her hairline. She dabbed at it, her fingers coming away sticky. The odor of blood was unmistakable.

“Ares,” she whispered. “Hurry up.” Truth was, lying there in the dark, knowing she was trapped on a slim ledge of rock, she felt her fear starting to get the best of her. He was coming back. She kept telling herself that. She wiped her fingers off on her shirt before clutching the star around her neck. She held on to it like a talisman.

Pebbles pinged against the side of the shaft, and dust drifted over her. “Seraphina?”

Ares’s voice. She smiled in the darkness. “Still here. You take care of Dahlia?”

“I sent her home with Minka.”

There were more sounds she couldn’t identify. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my coat and gloves off.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll get in the way.”

“Of what?” Would a little more explanation hurt?

“Of me climbing down there to get you.”

“Oh. Isn’t it kind of a long way down? Don’t you think you should get some help? Fire and rescue or something like that?”

“I’d guess you’re about thirty feet down. No, I don’t need help.” More pebbles falling. “I’m going to descend a few feet away from where you are so more rocks don’t fall onto you.”

“Thanks.” She lay there, listening to him descend and wondering how he was going to get her out of there without having any direct physical contact with her, especially with no gloves. Maybe he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Regardless, she appreciated his urgency.

“Seraphina.”

A hand was shaking her shoulder. Ares. She opened her eyes. There was a soft glow in the air. “Mmm…I must have fallen asleep.”

“No, no. Don’t do that again.” He leaned in, concern visible in his eyes even in the dim light. “You’ve got a pretty good gash over one eye.”

“How come I can see you?”

He glanced down at his shirt. A streak of soft light marred the black silk.

She wrinkled her nose. “Is that goblin goo?”

“Yes.”

“You did that for me?”

“I thought it would be easier if you could see a little.”

A part of her fell hard for him. “You ruined a perfectly good shirt.”

One of his brows cocked up. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have?”

She smiled despite the ache in her head. “No.”

“Do you think you can hang on to me? I can’t climb one-handed.”

“I think so.”

“I need you to.” He shifted to look over the ledge. “It’s a long way down. You might be a demigoddess, but I’m not sure you’d survive that.”

She struggled to sit up. A quick wave of dizziness came and went, but she got herself upright. “What do you want me to do?”

He pulled his gloves out from somewhere and held them out to her. “Put them on. Then wrap your arms around my neck. Do not touch my skin with your skin. Although my gloves and your leather jacket should help with that. I’ll do the rest.”

She slid the gloves on as he turned around and crouched with his back to her. “And if I do accidentally touch you?”

He was silent too long. “Then I guess we’ll find out if you’re immortal or not. But let’s try to leave that a mystery.”

“Right.” She put her hand on his shoulder to let him know she was ready. He tensed, and a soft hiss filled the darkness. “You okay?”

“Fine.” The word sounded like it had been forced out from between clenched teeth.

She used her grip on him to pull herself to her knees, then scooted forward until she could reach him better. “Here I go.”

He said nothing.

She slid her arms around his neck and flattened herself against his back. He was solid as stone. But warm. This close, the smell of him, something like spice and smoke, invaded her senses. She leaned in as close as she dared and inhaled. Her head spun again. This time, she wasn’t sure if it was from the knot she’d received or his undeniable maleness.

“Secure?”

“Yes.” Although clinging to a man who could take her life with his touch felt anything but secure.

He pushed to his feet and took hold of her legs, wrapping them around his waist. “Do not let go.”

“I won’t.” Her head kept going fuzzy, from him or the trauma, she didn’t know. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Here we go.” He began to climb.

She rested her cheek on her arm and tried to focus on keeping her grip. It wasn’t that hard. Not with her legs wrapped around his narrow waist. Not with her body plastered against his. Every reach, every pull, every stretch of his lithe, muscled form, she felt in her core. The ascent was smoother than she’d expected. No jostling, no sudden shifts or jerks. In fact, he made what had to be a pretty serious exertion seem effortless. He wasn’t even sweating that she could tell. A cottony thickness invaded her thoughts. She forced herself to focus. What had she been thinking about? How strong he was? “Mmm-hmm.”

He paused. “What?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled. Were supernaturals all this strong? Or was he this way because of his unique set of parents? Holding on to him was rather enjoyable. His warmth seeped into her, and for the first time, she stopped shivering.

Sleep pulled at her, and her eyes fluttered closed. A little nap wouldn’t hurt, would it? He was capable enough to take care of both of them. And she was so very tired. A fog drifted over her. It turned into a soft, comfortable blackness that tugged at her and tugged at her until finally, she gave in.

Ares felt Seraphina’s muscles go slack and her grip loosen a split second before she fell. With his inhuman reflexes, he kept one hand on the rock above him and twisted around to catch her by the arm in time to keep her from plummeting into the chasm below. He squeezed hard, fearing her leather jacket would be all he’d have in his hand otherwise.

She hung like a rag doll, her head lolled back in the way of the unconscious. He swore softly to keep the panic at bay. He could do this. He would get them out of here.

He just wasn’t sure if he could do it before Gozer got back. As gently but as firmly as he could, he yanked Seraphina upward, throwing her into the air. A split second later, he snatched her around the waist. From there, he lifted her onto his shoulder.

Once she was settled and secure, he resumed climbing. The going was tougher now, impeded by the awkwardness of carrying her this way. He was careful to protect her from being dragged against the jagged rocks and picked his way upward slowly.

Being laid over his shoulder had caused her leather jacket to inch up, exposing a slice of her torso. A narrow ribbon of pale, vulnerable flesh right beside his face. Her perfume surrounded him, intoxicating him in a way that fueled his efforts and gave him wicked thoughts.

He dug the toes of his boots into a narrow crevice and found a sturdy grip with his right hand, then adjusted her slightly with his left. If he turned his head, he could plant his mouth on that sliver of skin. He could see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

He ground his teeth together, got her situated and returned to the ascent. No, he couldn’t see if she tasted as good as she smelled. Doing so would kill her. He knew that. Why his brain couldn’t remember that was beyond him. Being close to her was shorting out his mental wiring.

But why hadn’t the fall killed her? She hadn’t even broken any bones that he could tell. She might indeed be an immortal. A thirty-foot drop would have killed all but the luckiest of humans. He tried not to think about what would have happened if she hadn’t landed on that ledge.

She sighed and shifted. He stilled until he knew she was all right. Her breathing was soft but steady. He returned to climbing. A few minutes later, he reached the top. He hauled himself halfway over the edge, lifting her over the ends of the rotted planks that had once covered the abandoned shaft.

Once she was safe, he pulled himself the rest of the way up and collapsed next to her. The climb hadn’t been strenuous, but the stress of what was at stake had taken it out of him. He needed a moment just to be next to her and know she was okay.

He turned to look at her, the soft glow from the phosphorescence making her look very much the demigoddess. Her dark hair fell around her in waves, and the dark fringes of her lashes kissed the fullness of her cheeks. He ached to touch her. To just, for a moment, know the softness of her skin.

A spark of anger lit within him. Anger at who he was, the cursed child of two cursed individuals. Had his parents given any thought to the child they’d created? Hadn’t they realized what a tortured existence they’d relegated him to?

She shivered and moaned as she started to come to. He grabbed his discarded coat and covered her with it. He didn’t want to leave her here, but he needed to deal with Gozer, and it would be better to meet the goblin at the mine’s entrance than let him make his way back here.

Her lids fluttered open, and her hand drifted to the gash on her head, which looked like it was already closing. “What happened?”

“You passed out.”

Her eyes rounded. “While you were climbing?”

He sat up. “Yes.”

“How am I not at the bottom of the pit?”

“I held on to you.”

A smile curved her mouth. “Well, how do you like that? You touched me and I didn’t die.”

“I never had direct contact with your skin.” He’d just thought about it a million times. “I need you to stay here for a few minutes, okay? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Are you going to get help?”

Not entirely a lie. “Yes. I need my gloves back, too.”

“Okay.” She peeled them off and handed them over. “Hey, Dahlia’s safe, right?”

“Yes, Minka took her home.” He pulled the gloves back on as he got to his feet. “Rest. When I return, we’ll get you to the car, and you’ll be able to see Dahlia for yourself very soon.”

She nodded, then winced.

“Or maybe a doctor,” he corrected. “Stay still.”

She lifted a hand and closed her eyes.

He took that as a sign of agreement. With a nod, he headed back toward the mouth of the mine, but as soon as he approached the fork, he heard shuffling and smelled the goblin’s pungent odor. Gozer had already returned.

With a few quick moves, Ares climbed the side of the mine and positioned himself against the ceiling, holding himself there with sheer strength. He waited, but Gozer was taking his time.

From the sounds of it, the goblin was dragging something. The bag of gold coins maybe. He was talking to himself, a steady stream of goblin interspersed with English. Something about how shiny the gold was and how good the girl would taste.

Closer and closer the goblin came, until finally, he walked beneath Ares.

Ares dropped onto him. The goblin squealed like a pig when he went down, flailing his thick arms and kicking with his powerful feet.

Ares took a shot to the chest that knocked him back. He leaped to his feet. Touching the goblin and taking his soul would be easy, but Ares wanted the murderer to know this wasn’t a random attack, that he was paying for his crimes. He ducked as Gozer swung his bag of coins at Ares’s head. “The girl you kidnapped is safe, you foul creature. Today is the day of your reckoning for what you did to her and for the other girls you murdered.”

Fear registered in Gozer’s eyes, and he looked like he was going to run. Ares punched him square in the gut before he could move, sending him flying down the corridor and toward the mouth of the fork. He got to his feet and scrambled farther back.

Ares went after Gozer, pulling at his gloves as he ran but stopped short as the goblin returned to view. He left his gloves on. Gozer wasn’t alone.

“I don’t think so, wraith.” Gozer grinned back at him and jerked his arm, causing Seraphina to yelp as his hold around her neck tightened. “I still have the girl.”

“That’s not even the same one, you idiot. The smell of your own stench has fermented your brain.”

“Quiet,” Gozer shouted. He rattled the bag of coins. “Get out and leave me to my dinner.”

Seraphina elbowed Gozer in the ribs, but he just laughed.

Ares took a step forward. That wiped the smile off the goblin’s face. “Give her to me, and I’ll let you keep the gold.”

“No. I keep the gold and the girl.” He leaned in and sniffed Seraphina’s hair, then licked her cheek, leaving a stringy line of spittle on the side of her face.

She made a gagging noise, but aimed her gaze at Ares, her look giving him implicit permission to do whatever he needed to.

Ares answered with a barely perceptible nod. “Take your hands off the girl now, or I will find a fate worse than death for you.”

Gozer laughed. “The girl will die before you reach me.” He bared his teeth like he was about to take a taste of her.

Ares’s field of vision went red. He charged forward, caught Gozer by the middle and drove him back through the right side of the fork, tearing him free of Seraphina. They rolled together over the rough ground and into the room where Dahlia had been tied up, coming to a stop a foot before the vertical shaft.

Gozer screamed and bucked Ares off before scrambling to his feet. He held one hand out in front of him. “Don’t touch me, wraith.”

Ares stood, his gaze never leaving the goblin. Behind him, the sounds of Seraphina coming up behind him filtered in.

“He would have killed Dahlia,” she said softly.

Ares nodded. “He would have killed you, too.”

Gozer whimpered and shook his finger. “I deserve a trial.”

“You had a trial. You were sentenced to prison. You escaped that prison, recall?”

“I deserve a new trial.” The goblin backed up a step.

Ares held his ground. He didn’t want Seraphina to see him reap a soul. She already knew what he was capable of. He didn’t need to prove it to her.

She snorted, the sound closer than he’d expected. He glanced over to see her just off his left side. She shook her head. “You’ve already been proven a murderer.” Anger danced in her eyes, and Ares knew he was seeing a very dark side of her. She stabbed a finger at the goblin. “You deserve to die.”

The goblin had the good sense to stay quiet. For about thirty seconds. He hissed at her, spittle flying from his lips. “Stupid human. I will not by judged by my dinner—”

With a guttural cry of anger, Seraphina flew past Ares, her hands out in front of her. He knew instantly she meant to push Gozer into the open shaft. He grabbed the hem of her jacket and hauled her back before it was too late. “No, Seraphina.”

“Why not? He deserves to die.” Her chest heaved with unspent energy.

Gozer’s ugly laugh ricocheted off the mine’s walls.

“Because,” Ares said, “that’s my job.” Before she could argue, Ares vaulted forward, planted his foot on Gozer’s chest and shoved him into the abyss.

The goblin’s scream ended in a low, meaty thunk. Seraphina stood there, head throbbing, body aching, and just listened as the remnants of the sound faded into stillness. Ares said nothing, just stood at her side as if giving her whatever time she needed.

She reached out blindly, found his arm and grabbed it. She couldn’t tear her eyes off the blackness and the last place the goblin had been. In the moment, she’d thought herself capable of killing Gozer, but now that the deed was done, she no longer felt that way. “I know you said you did that because it was your job, but that’s not the only reason, is it?”

“No,” he said quietly.

She stared into the darkness. “Why then?” She wanted him to say it. Wanted him, the man who didn’t want to be friends, to admit what he’d done for her.

“I did it because you shouldn’t be the one to carry the weight of another creature’s death for the rest of your life.”

She finally looked at him. Tears she couldn’t explain blurred her vision. “And you should?”

He shrugged and shifted, but she held on. “I’m used to it. It is my job.”

“Thank you.” The words were inadequate for what she felt, but she was too overwhelmed to say more. She released his arm, searching for something else to express how she was feeling, but failing.

Finally, he spoke. “I don’t want to rush you, but the sun will be up in an hour.”

She furrowed her brows. “And?”

His mouth bent in a grim, tight-lipped smile. “The sun is very uncomfortable for me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Of course.” He was half vampire. How could she have forgotten that? “We should get back to the house anyway. Check on Dahlia.”

“You need your head looked at, too. Although at this point, I think it’s just dried blood. The cut seems to have healed.”

“I do heal pretty fast. Part of that whole demigoddess thing, I guess.”

He nodded, but looked like he was thinking about something else. “Are you all right to drive?”

“I think so.” She reached around and felt the knot on her head. The swelling had maybe gone down a little, but her head still ached. “Maybe it’s better if you do. Just in case I pass out behind the wheel or something.”

“Wise.”

She dug into her inside pocket, snagged the keys and handed them over.

He closed his fingers around the keys. “Thank you.”

That was the end of the conversation until they walked outside the mine. Already, the horizon seemed lighter.

He pulled his phone out as they walked to the car. “I have to make a call.”

“Go ahead.”

He dialed and put the device to his ear. “Job’s done. Yes. Good. No. Headed home.” He hung up and tucked the phone away.

“That was short.” She watched him as they kept walking. His face rarely changed, rarely showed any expression. Only his eyes ever gave him away. Not this time, though. She had no idea if he thought that call had been a good one or a bad one. “Everything okay?”

He started to nod, then took a deep breath and sighed, his gaze on the car just ahead of them. “Everything is just as it always is.”

Something about his words seemed so final. From the depths of her soul, she wanted to grab him and kiss him and tell him it didn’t have to be that way. She turned her head enough to see his face, hoping her hair would hide her study of him. There had to be a way around his inability to touch or be touched. She just didn’t have the right to be the one to force the issue. They’d known each other for a single night. Long enough for her to know he wasn’t going to welcome her desire to solve his problems.

“Stop it.”

She quit looking at him and jammed her hands in her pockets. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me like you can fix me. You can’t.”

She took her hands back out of her pockets to balance herself as they climbed a ridge. “Why would I fix you? You’re not broken.”

He smirked and punched the button to unlock the car. It beeped.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, you’re a little broken. But you must like it or you’d change.”

He stopped at the driver’s door. “I don’t like it. Who would like living a life without physical contact?” His scowl increased. “And how would you suggest I change? I was born this way.”

“I’m just saying there might be a way around it. Maybe you could get a witch to fix it with a spell. Or a hex. Or whatever. There are witches in Vegas, right?”

“Yes.” He looked away and shook his head. “But it’s not that simple.”

“No, I guess it’s not.” She walked around to the passenger side. She’d known not to say anything and said it anyway. What had she expected?

They got in. He started the engine and pulled back onto the gravel road.

She couldn’t let it go. “I’m sorry you have to live your life like that.”

He didn’t reply.

She slipped down in the seat and put her head against the window.

“It wasn’t always like this. I was in love once.”

She sat up, surprised he was willing to share so much information. “What happened?”

“It didn’t work out.”

She wanted to smack his stony face. “Well, obviously. Why not? Who was she?”

“A vampire. Lena.”

She nodded. “Makes sense. Undead and all that.”

“Except…” He sighed and furrowed his brow. “It still wasn’t easy.”

“No relationship is.” Not that she’d really know. Hers never lasted that long. Hard to fall in love with a guy who had no choice but to be a yes-man. “What broke you up?”

His fingers curved over the wheel, digging in. “She had bad habits.”

“Such as?”

“She liked to drain tourists of their blood.” He frowned. “She had to be Collected.”

“Sweet Zeus. Are you saying you had to—”

“No. I didn’t do it.”

Seraphina bit her lip and twisted in the seat. “That sucks.” She cringed. “No pun intended.” She watched, waiting for him to give her a nasty look.

His expression changed in a way she’d never seen before. His mouth bent oddly, and then the strangest thing happened. He laughed. Loud and booming, it filled the car.

She joined in, unable to help herself. And, oh my, he was pretty when he smiled.

He ran a hand through his hair, and his chin jutted forward. “I’m pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No.” She wanted to touch him so badly it hurt. How did you comfort someone you couldn’t touch? “I don’t think you’re pathetic at all. I think you’ve been dealt a tough hand.”

“One there’s no undoing.”

“You just need to find the right woman. Like one who doesn’t kill tourists.” Like her.

Derision bent his mouth. He clearly didn’t believe her. “Let me just work up an online dating profile then and see who’s willing to risk death on a first date.”

She swallowed and found her nerve. “I am.”

Ares knew he’d heard her correctly, and yet, the words took a second to register. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

“There is if you think you should go out with me.” His heart was doing strange things. Beating too fast. He took a breath, trying to dispel the unfounded hope that had started winding its way through him.

She crossed her arms and stared at him. “What’s wrong with me? I’m not ugly.”

Hell no, she wasn’t ugly. She was stunning. Even with dirt on her face and dried blood at her hairline. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the way you look. You’re beautiful. A blind man could see that. It’s about keeping you alive.”

“What if I’m immortal?”

“What if you’re not? There are no do-overs.”

“And what if I am? Why not answer that question?”

“Because I…” The muscles in his jaw tightened. Answering that question meant considering the future, and considering the future was something he never did. It hurt too much.

She finished for him. “Don’t want to get your hopes up?”

He nodded and kept his eyes on the road. Damn, this woman had great big steel balls to have this conversation with him. No one talked to him this frankly. They were all too afraid. Or just couldn’t be bothered to care. Which she clearly did. He just wasn’t sure why.

“I get it,” she said. “I do.”

If she could be blunt, so could he. “Why do you care?”

“Because underneath that gruff, don’t-touch-me-or-you’ll-die exterior, you’re a nice guy. I think you hide a lot of who you really are because that’s what you’ve been forced to do. I also know that you’re as lonely as—”

“I’m not lonely.”

“Yes, you are. You have to be.”

“And how would you know what I am?”

Her answer was quieter, her voice less steady. “Because I’m lonely, too.”

He sneaked a look at her, but her gaze was on the console between them. There was no joy in her face. Nothing there but raw truth. It rocked him to think of her that way. “You’re lonely?”

She looked up from beneath her lashes. “Yes.” She huffed out a breath. “I’d like to be with someone who really wants to be with me, not because I’m influencing them in some way or because of the good vibes they get off me.” She shook her head. “I mean, I want that someone to be with me because I make them happy, but that happiness needs to come from them, not from me. Oh, never mind. What’s the point? You must get some kick off being lonely. I don’t even know why I bothered—”

“If you were really immortal, I’d be interested.” A pit opened up in his stomach, and his nervous system went haywire, like he’d lost the ability to protect himself. Like he’d lost all his defenses.

She gaped at him, openmouthed. “You would?”

He nodded.

She angled back around to face the front of the vehicle and smiled from ear to ear like she’d just won something. Which she hadn’t, because he was certainly no prize. “Okay, then,” she said. “I’ll work on figuring that out.”

Seraphina’s mother being gone didn’t mean they hadn’t had some contact. It was rare and superficial when it happened, but Seraphina knew where her mother was. And figuring out whether or not she was really immortal meant a visit to her mother, something Seraphina had never done. When her mother had taken off, she’d implied that direct contact between them could put them both in danger. Too bad. The time for a face-to-face was long overdue.

Since Dahlia’s safe return, Javier had been stuck to the girl’s side. He’d decided to take her on an impromptu trip to New York City for shopping and fun, giving Seraphina the time off she needed.

She hopped a charter and flew to LA, where her mother lived and worked as a life coach. She was in great demand, charged exorbitant rates and seemed happy on the few occasions they’d been in touch, but seeing Cleo in person would reveal the truth. About many things, Seraphina hoped.

The car Seraphina had hired took her to a gorgeous, gated house in the Hollywood Hills. The visit was a surprise, obviously—Seraphina didn’t want to chance her mother blowing her off with some excuse—but the gate would change that.

The driver pressed the intercom button and waited for a response.

“Hello?” The voice had a Latin accent, so not Cleo. Maybe there was a chance for a surprise after all.

The driver leaned in. “I have Seraphina Kostos here for Cleo Silver.”

Silver was the adopted name Cleo had taken on as a way to hide from her past. Seraphina wondered how well that had worked.

“Si, I’ll let you in.” A buzz followed, and the gate swung open.

A few minutes later, Seraphina was inside, sitting in her mother’s impressive office, waiting for her to appear. It didn’t take long.

Her mother swanned into the room in a cloud of pale diaphanous silks and a crusting of diamonds and amethyst. “Seraphina, my darling, so good to see you.” She held out her bejeweled hands as Seraphina rose from her chair. “It’s been too long, my love.”

“Yes, it has been.” Which is how her mother had wanted it. Seraphina took her mother’s hands and allowed herself to be air-kissed on both cheeks. “You look well. And very prosperous.” Her long, dark hair was now short and blond, but otherwise, she looked the same as the day she’d left Seraphina.

Cleo shut the office door, came around to her desk and sat. “This is my place, filled with people who need me and”—she laughed—“don’t mind paying. Not to mention the whole not-aging thing makes them drool over me like you wouldn’t believe. I fit right in!” She smiled brightly. Her teeth gleamed. “What brings you out here? With no notice, you naughty thing.” She threw her hands into the air in a wild, sweeping motion. “I could have planned the most delicious party with more Hollywood elite than you could imag—”

“Mom.” So like her mother to pretend there was nothing weird about this visit after years of separation. “I don’t need a party.” Or the Hollywood elite. Seraphina had had plenty of brushes with superficial greatness in her life. They weren’t that impressive. “I just need to talk.”

Her mother’s face fell, disappointment clear. She took a breath. “I knew something had to be wrong if you came all the way out here. What’s wrong?”

“You realize Vegas to LA is only slightly more than an hour by plane? Never mind. There’s nothing wrong. Not exactly.” Seraphina sat back in her chair. “But I need an answer to a question I’ve been trying to figure out for a long time.”

“You came to see me to ask me a question?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

Cleo relaxed, but still looked a bit miffed. “Of course not, darling, I’m always here for you. You know that. What’s your question?”

Seraphina braced herself. “If my father is human, am I mortal? Or is there enough of your goddess blood in me to keep me alive for the rest of eternity?”

Cleo’s jaw slowly inched downward. She stared at Seraphina, but said nothing, finally closing her mouth.

Seraphina ran her thumb over the arm of the chair. “I need to know, Mom. It’s kind of a big deal.”

“Why? Are you planning to jump off a bridge?”

Seraphina raised her head. “What if I am? Would I live through it?”

Cleo huffed out a breath. “This is silly.”

“It’s not silly. It’s my life.” She tapped a finger on the desk. “I deserve to know. Are you saying you can’t answer the question? Would you rather I ask what you’ve been so afraid of that you’ve made us live such separate lives?”

Cleo stared at Seraphina, her right cheek twitching. “You’re immortal. There. Happy?” Cleo clearly wasn’t.

“I am, thank you. And I wasn’t trying to upset you. Just get an answer.” Her stomach did a little trippy, rolling thing at the prospect of what that answer meant for her and Ares. She just hadn’t expected Cleo to react so strongly to her wanting to know.

The stern expression on her mother’s face was a far cry from the one she’d walked in with. “You can at least tell me why you want to know.”

Seraphina nodded slowly. That much she could do. “I need to know because of a man.”

Understanding flickered in Cleo’s gaze. “You want to know if you’re going to outlive him? Sadly, yes.” She toyed with the nine-pointed star that hung around her neck, a twin to the one she’d given Seraphina. “Love is not without pain for anyone, but for us, it comes with the unique torture of seeing those we’ve pledged our hearts to grow old and die while we are left behind to mourn.”

Seraphina would never have to worry about that with Ares, but she understood her mother’s concern. “Is that why you’ve never been in love?”

Her mother blinked, her focus somewhere else. The past, most likely. “I’ve been in love…” The distant look suddenly vanished. She smiled, but it seemed forced. “It’s why I’ve never married.” She laughed. “Don’t worry about me, though. I’ve got plenty of male companionship.”

“I’m sure you do. You’re a beautiful woman and a muse. I bet there’s a waiting list to escort you around town.”

With a pleased smile, Cleo clasped her hands on the desk top. “I see you’re still wearing the necklace I gave you.”

“I never take it off.”

“And you never should.”

“I know, it protects me from harm.” Seraphina rolled her eyes.

“That’s right.” All traces of sweetness and light had been left behind. Cleo leaned forward. “Never take it off.”

A little shocked by her mother’s adamant demand, Seraphina felt as chastised as a child. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” The smile was back. “How long are you staying? We could do dinner at Jean Luc’s, and I could call some of the girls for—”

“Thanks, Mom, but I can’t. I’m headed back immediately. The driver’s waiting for me. And Javier expects me back.” Not entirely a lie. And based on the relieved expression on Cleo’s face, it wouldn’t have mattered if it had been. “He’s working on a major commission right now. You know how it is.”

“Ah, yes.” Cleo stood and came out from behind the desk. “Maybe someday we’ll be able to spend more time together, take a drive up the coast. Have a girls’ weekend.”

It would never happen, but Seraphina smiled anyway. “That would be great.” She hugged her mother, really hugged her. “I love you, Mom.”

Cleo pulled back. “I love you, too, darling.” She put a hand on Seraphina’s cheek. “I’m sorry we’ve been apart for so long. I know it was my doing, but I’ve done it to protect you.”

“I know. I don’t understand it, but I know you mean well.” Seraphina squeezed her mother’s hand.

“Someday it may all make sense.” Cleo kissed Seraphina’s cheek, a sadness in her eyes that made Seraphina ache for her, but her mother had made her own choices. “Good-bye. Be well.”

“You, too.” With a wave, Seraphina walked back to the waiting car, thoughts of her mother quickly turning to thoughts of Ares. The idea of being able to pursue a future with him made her barely able to suppress the giddiness boiling up inside her. She was immortal. Ares had no idea what was headed his way. She looked at the time and calculated when she’d arrive back in Vegas. Just before sunset. Perfect. She half-squealed with the unbridled pleasure of it all, stopping herself just as the driver looked at her through the rearview mirror.

“Everything all right, miss?”

Seraphina nodded, still grinning. “Everything is grand.”

Only Ares’s supernatural hearing allowed him to catch the chime of his doorbell ringing over the thumping bass pounding through his gym. He released the chin-up bar and dropped to the floor. “Volume, down.”

The music faded. It was almost eleven p.m. Another Collection already? He typically had more time between them—it wasn’t that often a life needed ending. It was also a little late for Romero to be sending a messenger to the house. He usually sent them first thing at sunset.

Didn’t matter. Ares would be happy to take the job. Maybe not happy, but anything to get his mind off Seraphina and what could never be. It was wrong how much he missed being around her.

He mopped the sweat off his face, threw the towel around his neck and went to answer the door. No point in bothering with a shirt. Whoever Romero had sent, Leo again or someone else, already knew what Ares was. The hourglass tattooed on his chest wasn’t going to come as any surprise. And if that much bare skin freaked the rookie out, it would be a good reminder for him to keep his distance. Ares was in no mood to worry about anyone else’s happiness.

He yanked the door open. “What have you got for me—” Definitely not Leo. His pulse shot up. “Seraphina?”

She smiled at him. An amazing sight. “Hi.”

A moment passed as it sank in that she was actually standing there. “Hi. What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?”

Her brows lifted. “Can I come in?”

“Sure, yeah. Sorry, I’m not used to visitors.” He moved out of the way, giving her plenty of space to pass by. Damn, she smelled good. Which was probably more than he could say about himself. He wiped the sweat off the back of his neck.

“I figured as much.” Her short black mini showed off her incredible legs, making it a little hard for him to concentrate. “Most people don’t answer the door half naked.”

He glanced down. “I was, uh, working out.”

She laughed. “I can tell. Javier got your address for me from whoever he originally contacted.”

Ares nodded, but his concern was building. She hadn’t come here to make small talk. “Is everything okay? Did Dahlia run away again?”

“Everything’s fine, and no, Dahlia’s still home. Actually, she and Javier are in New York City. I don’t think she’ll be running away again anytime soon.” Her smile widened, and she moved toward him, causing him to step back. Her gaze seemed stuck on his chest. “What’s with the hourglass?”

He glanced at the ink. “I was born with it. It’s the mark of a reaper.” And the receptacle for the souls he took, but that wasn’t a detail that seemed worthy of being shared. Not that he’d had a lot of conversations about the ink that branded him a collector of souls. “What brings you here?” Whatever it was, he was glad to see her. In a way. Having her here in person only reminded him of how much he wanted her. Of how much he couldn’t have.

“I needed to see you. I have some very good news.”

“You do?” His body tightened in response to her sweet perfume and gorgeous grin. She was all he’d been able to think about since leaving her side. Having her in his home seemed like something out of a fantasy. “What is it?”

Her eyes twinkled. “I went to see my mother.”

“What? I thought your mother was dead.”

“No, not dead. Just not in my life. She purposefully distanced herself from me around the time I was seventeen. Said it was for my own good, but to this day won’t tell me much more than that. She’s a goddess. They’re prone to whims and capricious behavior.”

He frowned. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I don’t have much choice.” She sighed. “Anyway, we had a good talk, considering that’s something we haven’t done much of in a long time.” She looked at her nails.

Impatience got the best of him. “And? What did you talk about? You’re drawing this out on purpose, aren’t you?”

She bit one of her fingernails before responding. “I might be.”

“Enough, woman. Tell me the news.”

“First, I have to ask you a question.”

“What? Anything.” She was killing him. The irony wasn’t lost.

“Are you still interested?”

“In?” He could definitely feel himself dying.

“Dating me?”

He stared at her. “Hell yes. But you know that can only happen under certain circumstances.”

“Those circumstances have been confirmed.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you saying what I think you are?”

She nodded. “My mother confirmed that I’m immortal, just like she is.”

The spring that had been winding in his belly almost snapped. He was going to explode. “You’re positive.”

“Yes.”

He stood there, frozen with possibility. Then he thawed. Every desire he’d ever felt for her came rushing forward in a hot wash of need. He felt the sharp jut of fangs as his vampire side emerged with the storm of emotion. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

She put her hands on her hips. “At least.” She tipped her head at him. “Are those fangs?”

“Yes. But I won’t hurt you.”

Her eyes sparkled with the most wicked intent. “I’m not afraid of a little biting.”

He moved so quickly she gasped. Threading his hands into her glorious hair, he brought her close and planted his mouth on hers. Warm, firm, soft, velvet, delicious. He devoured her, sliding one hand down to the small of her back and pulling her against him. His.

The little mews of pleasure that escaped her only fueled him. Her hands danced over his bare chest, touching and teasing and driving him mad. She was more than he’d imagined, and the taste of her sent him soaring.

A soft, distressed moan reached his ears. She broke the kiss and pulled away, shaking her head slightly. Her lids looked heavy. Wrong.

“What’s the matter? Was I too rough?” He gentled his touch but couldn’t bring himself to release her entirely.

“No.” Her mouth moved like the words she wanted to say wouldn’t come. “I feel…funny. Light-headed and…” Her eyes rolled back, and she went limp.

“Seraphina!” He held on to her, easing her to the floor and kneeling beside her. Panic erased the pleasure he’d just felt, shoving needles of fear into his spine. He put his fingers to her neck, but already her pulse was weakening. He pulled back like he’d been shocked, but the hourglass tattooed over his heart began to burn as it filled. This couldn’t be happening. She was supposed to be immortal. He cursed loudly. “No. No!”

He pounded his fists on the floor beside her lifeless form, then tipped back his head and howled in anger and pain. The glass vase on the coffee table shattered.

Despite Seraphina’s assurance, he’d just reaped her soul.

Seraphina returned to consciousness with a start. The last thing she remembered was kissing Ares. She grinned at the delicious thought. But then she’d gotten faint and felt like she was dissolving.

Now she was no longer in his penthouse, but at least she was upright and on her own two feet. She also felt fine, but nothing looked familiar. A few yards away, water rippled at the edge of a murky black lake, the faint smell of metal and earth wafting past. Swirling fog obscured most of the view, making it impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction, although she caught glimpses of the shore here and there where the fog broke. There was no discernible light source, but the sky had a dusky smolder to it. Wherever she was, the place was dank and dismal and severely lacking in color.

Worst of all, Ares was nowhere in sight. She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “Where the hell am I?”

“Unfortunately, I know the answer to that question.” Ares walked out of the fog a few feet away.

She exhaled with relief. “I’m so glad you’re here. Where are we? Because I’ve got no—whoa, what are you wearing?”

He looked down and stretched out his arms, causing the long black robe draped over him to billow out. It was cut to the waist, revealing a glimpse of his bare chest. He frowned. “My reaper uniform. Somehow, despite your immortality, I took your soul during that kiss. I’m wearing this because it’s what I wear when I deliver souls to their final resting place. Cliché, I know, but it comes with the job.”

A chill went through her. “Are you saying this is my final resting place? That I’m…dead?”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “You’re a demigoddess. It shouldn’t have happened, but I guess your mother was wrong about your immortality.” He glanced around. “Welcome to the Underworld.”

“How is that possible? I never figured my mother would lie to me about a thing like that.”

“I never would have touched you if I’d thought this was possible.” He shook his head, the sorrow in his eyes almost more than she could take.

“Do you regret kissing me?”

“No. Yes.” He stared toward the lake. “I regret we’ve ended up here.”

The fog over the water parted like a curtain, and the light of a single lantern broke through the hazy purple darkness. The lantern was attached to a boat piloted by a man in a robe very much like Ares’s. Except that the man was nothing but a skeleton.

She backed up a step as she looked from the boat to Ares. “This is the River Styx.” She may have never been to Olympus, but she’d studied the geography of her heritage enough to know the layout of the Underworld.

Ares nodded.

She pointed at the ferryman. “That would make him Charon.”

“Right again.” With a tentative hand, Ares reached out and touched her arm. “You’re real.”

“What did you expect? A ghost?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I’ve never had someone accompany me to deliver their soul. Something weird is going on here.”

She shot him a look. “You think?”

The ferryman’s boat bumped the shore. He lifted one arm to point a bony finger at Seraphina, then crooked the finger and gestured for her to come with him.

Ares stepped in front of her. “She goes nowhere without me.”

She put her hand on his arm. “Ares, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but this isn’t your battle anymore.”

“Like hell it isn’t. I got you into this mess, and I’m going to get you out.” He leaned forward. “You’re taking both of us, Charon. You have no choice. I hold her soul.”

The skeletal figure dropped his arm, went still for a moment, then pointed into the boat. Ares climbed in first, then held out his hand for Seraphina. “C’mon, let’s go see Hades and get this sorted out.”

“You think we’re actually going to see the god of the Underworld?” She shivered.

Ares wrapped an arm around her. “Yes. I take it you’ve never met him before?”

“No. I might be a demigoddess, but my life is far removed from the realm of the gods and goddesses. It’s not like being a demi is that special.” She snorted softly. “None of the gods and goddess are known for fidelity. There are lots of demis wandering around.” She looked up at Ares. “You’ve meet him?”

Ares nodded. “I’m half reaper. I deliver the souls I Collect to their end destinations. And sometimes, that’s here. And he’s the one I deliver the souls to.”

With the fog surrounding them, it was impossible to tell how much progress the boat was making. “How does that whole soul thing work?”

“You know the basics. I touch someone, I take their soul. Once I have it, it’s contained here.” He pulled his robe to one side to reveal the hourglass tattoo she’d seen on him earlier. It glowed softly.

“Why is it lit up like that?”

The pain in his eyes was clear. “Because it’s filled. That’s the light of your soul.”

“But how can that be? I don’t feel dead.” She shook her head. “I can’t be dead. Have you ever Collected a demigod or demigoddess before?”

“No.”

“Well, then, maybe this is just how it works for us.”

“Maybe.” But nothing in his tone rang of confidence.

She leaned against him. “Might as well touch you now. It’s not like you can take my soul a second time.”

He said nothing. He also made no move to return the intimacy.

“I don’t blame you for this, you know.” She looked up at him.

“How can it not be my fault?” He stared into the fog.

She turned, forcibly wrapping his arms around her before lifting her hands to cup his face. “Ares, I came to your place of my own free will. With full intent to kiss you if you didn’t act first. This isn’t your fault.” She leaned up and kissed him again, a quick, reassuring brush of the lips.

When she released him, he was almost smiling. The boat abutted the shoreline, and they both turned. Charon held his arm out again, pointing for them to get off. The fog ended on this side of the river, and the land beyond held some color but all of it washed with gray. It was like permanent twilight, and the lack of sun sucked the vibrancy out of everything. Javier would have hated this place.

She stepped off the boat with Ares behind her. A wide path of flat stones led from the shoreline toward a large gated garden. Beyond the gate and the hedge walls, an enormous house loomed, beautiful, but bleak and gray, like everything else.

She studied the mansion. “Is that Hades’s palace?”

“Yes.” Ares positioned himself slightly in front of her. “And that is Hades himself.”

In the grayness of everything, Seraphina hadn’t noticed the man approaching behind the gate. He came through, leaving the wrought iron entrance open. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected the god of the Underworld to look like, but he was handsome enough and well built. Definitely godlike, and despite his short, gray beard and shoulder-length gray hair, there was an air of youth about him.

“Ares.”

“Hades.”

The god stopped a few feet away. “You’ve brought a mortal with you? That is highly irregular.”

“Not a mortal, exactly.” Ares reached down and took Seraphina’s hand. “This is Seraphina Kostos. She’s the daughter of a muse and a demigoddess, which is probably why things have gone so differently this time.”

Hades stared at her. “Come out where I can see you.”

She walked forward, trembling slightly at the unknown prospect of what was about to happen, but managing to hold herself with the upright carriage Cleo had always said was most becoming of a demigoddess. She stopped a few feet from him, brushed her hair back and looked him square in the eyes. “I am Seraphina Kostos, daughter of Cleo. I should not be here. I am an immortal.”

Hades’s gaze seemed to go strangely liquid. “Seraphina,” he muttered. He pointed at her. “That star around your neck, where did you get it?”

She touched the pendant she always wore. “My mother gave it to me. Told me to never take it off.”

He held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

She hesitated.

“I won’t keep it.”

Reluctantly, she unclasped the chain and handed it to him.

He pulled a larger version of it from around his own neck. The smaller star fit perfectly into the larger star. He held the two and looked up at her. “Seraphina, do you have any idea why you’re here?”

“No.”

He seemed to choke up for a moment as his gaze went back to the necklace. “Your mother gave you this to protect you, but even she didn’t fully understand what it was meant for. If ever you were in danger, it would protect you by bringing you back to me.”

“Back to you? And I wasn’t in danger, I was…” She started to point back to Ares, then dropped her hand. “I wasn’t in danger.”

“You must have been. You’re standing beside a wraith. Don’t you know what such a creature is capable of?”

“Yes, but I’m immortal. His touch shouldn’t have had any effect.”

“He touched you?” Hades shifted his attention to Ares. “Why did you attempt to reap her soul, wraith?”

“I didn’t attempt to reap it, I did reap it.”

Hades arched one thick, gray brow, but angry lines bracketed his mouth. “Only the power of the amulet allowed that to happen.”

Ares looked as confused as she felt. She held up a finger. “Wait a minute, are you saying the only reason he was able to take my soul is because that necklace made it possible?”

Hades nodded. “Yes, and now that you’re here—”

“How is that possible?”

Hades sighed. “I designed the amulet and imbued it with magic. If ever your life was in danger, it would transport you and the one endangering you directly to me so that I might deal with them and protect you.”

“What? Why?”

“So that I might protect you.”

“You said that part already.” She was about to lose it. “Let’s go back to where I wasn’t actually in danger.”

Hades looked at Ares. “Were you not trying to take her soul?”

“No.” Ares spoke the word loudly and slowly, like he thought Hades might be a little deaf.

“Then why did you touch her? What were you doing to her?”

Ares crossed his arms defiantly. “I kissed her.”

She almost smiled at the blunt declaration.

Hades frowned, and anger danced in his eyes. “Knowing full well that you’d take her soul in the process?”

Ares growled. “I kissed her with the understanding that it was safe to do so. Her mother told her she was immortal.”

“She is,” Hades answered.

“So she never was in any actual danger.” Ares’s voice held frustration, and his hands closed into fists.

“Look,” Seraphina spoke up, “if I’m immortal, maybe you can just show us how to get home?”

“No.” Hades hand tightened around the joined necklaces. “You’re staying here with me. Your time in the mortal world is over.”

“What? No.” The idea of being stuck in this miserable place was almost as bad as being separated from Ares. “You have no right.”

Hades turned and walked back toward the gate. “I have every right. I am your father.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ares went after Hades. God of the Underworld or not, he wasn’t about to let Hades determine Seraphina’s fate so flippantly.

Hades stopped, his hand on the gate. “I am her father. She’ll do as I say.”

Seraphina charged forward. “My mother said my father was a mortal.”

Hades snarled in disgust. “Your mother lied.”

Ares wanted to punch him. “Seraphina is an adult. She can do as she damn well pleases. And if she wasn’t in any danger from me, using that necklace to bring her here is a violation of supernatural laws.”

Hades’s mouth curved in a crass smirk. “Supernatural laws don’t apply to me. You’re in my realm now.” He pointed at Seraphina. “She stays. You go.”

Ares had hidden the darkest side of himself from Seraphina, but to save her, he was willing to change that. He looked back at Seraphina. “Do you want to stay here?”

“Hell no.” She shuddered, her mouth bent in a broken, wretched way. “I want to go back with you.”

He turned to Hades. “There. You heard her. She wants to return to the mortal world with me.”

“Fine. You have her soul. Take it. But I have her body, and it’s staying here.”

Behind Ares, Seraphina let out a harsh sob. “You can’t do this. It isn’t fair.”

Hades moved to focus on Seraphina. “Your mother made a pact with me. So long as you both wore the necklaces, I’d leave you alone. But for the last few years, your mother has refused to give me any information about you. She said she didn’t know where you were. Actually tried to tell me you’d gone off on your own and were no longer speaking to her. Were her lies fair? Was it fair that I be kept from my child?”

“I don’t know,” Seraphina snapped back. “Did you threaten to keep her prisoner here, too?”

The truth of her words shone on Hades’s face. “I only wanted you both with me because I loved you both.”

“Love? You don’t know what love is.” Seraphina shook her head, clearly enraged. “If you care so much about me, why are you doing this to me?”

If Hades felt any remorse, the feeling didn’t last long. His lip curled. “Because I can.” He glared at Ares. “Charon will take you back to the other side of the river.”

Ares stood his ground. “Name your price.”

“My price for what?”

“For taking Seraphina back with me. What else?”

Hades laughed, the sound booming across the bleak landscape. “You think you love her, is that it?”

Ares snarled. “How will I know if you don’t give me the chance? You’re taking her life away from her so that what? You can show her mother that you’ve won? Let Seraphina go.”

Hades crossed his arms. “You asked me what my price is. Perhaps I should ask how deep your pockets are.”

“Deep.” For Seraphina, he would spend every last cent he had.

“Fine.” Hades nodded. “You and I shall do battle. If I win, you’ll be banished immediately and I get my daughter’s soul. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll tell you what my price is, but there will be no negotiation. You will take it or leave it, and we will be done.”

“Who declares the winner? There are no impartial judges here. And what are the rules?”

Hades’s eyes glimmered with something unspoken. “My wife, Persephone, will judge.”

“You think your wife won’t care who wins the battle over your illegitimate daughter’s soul?”

“I think my wife has enough to lose, either way, to keep her from choosing sides.”

Ares nodded. “And the rules?”

“When I throw you from the circle three times, I win.”

Ares shook his head. “You can’t even give fair rules.”

Hades rolled his eyes. “Whichever of us throws the other out of the circle thrice wins. Happy?”

“Yes. And I agree, but when I win, I get Seraphina’s body and her soul, and we get safe passage back to the mortal world.”

Through gritted teeth, Hades muttered, “Fine.”

“Ares, don’t.” Seraphina tugged at his sleeve. “The gods are manipulative and unscrupulous. You have no idea what he’s going to ask of you.”

Hades looked at her. “My child, you wound me.”

She snorted. “You rigged that necklace to bring me here if I was in the slightest perceived danger from another supernatural, which I wasn’t, and then once I get here, you tell me I’m not allowed to leave? You’re not in a position to complain.” She turned to Ares. “Can we talk?”

He nodded and walked back to the shore with her. Charon sat a few yards off, bobbing in his ferry. “I can do this. I can win this battle.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know about that. You don’t even know what his price is going to be. It’s probably not going to be money, Ares. He’s a god. He’s more powerful than you can imagine.”

He frowned. “I have power of my own that you don’t know about, Seraphina. Let me do this for you.”

She stared up at him, the adoration in her eyes charging his will. “You are quite a man, Ares. To be willing to do this for me when we’ve known each other only a few days is…amazing.”

“I have spent my career seeing souls to their end. Until you and Dahlia came into my life, I had never saved anyone. Now I get to do it again, this time for a woman I am crazy about.” He took her hands. “I want you in my life, Seraphina. I hope that doesn’t scare you away.”

She smiled. “We get out of here, and you’re going to have to pry me off with a crowbar.”

He laughed, but his joy faded fast. Wanting her wasn’t all that might scare her away. “You need to know that there is a part of me I’m probably going to have to access to win this fight, a part of me that no one else has ever seen. No one who’s lived, anyway. It’s not…attractive.”

She reached up and caressed his cheek, sending a spark of warmth and desire into his belly. “You should see what I look like in the morning.”

“I’m sure you’re just as beautiful then as you are now.”

Her hand drifted to his chest, and her smile filled him with assurance. “I don’t care what this other part of you looks like. It’s your heart that I want most of all.”

Her words ignited something fierce and loyal within him. “Then let’s get this battle won.”

In the center of Hades’s garden was a dirt arena, outlined with stones and covered in gravel. A few marble benches surrounded the circle, but Seraphina couldn’t bring herself to sit. Instead, she stood at the edge, hands clasped, praying to whatever goddess might hear her to help the man she was desperately falling for.

The fact that Hades was her father held very little sway over her. She’d never known him and, after meeting him here, had no desire to take the relationship any further. No wonder her mother hadn’t wanted to reveal who he was.

Across the arena from her sat the goddess-queen of the Underworld, Persephone. She was as blond and pale as a queen of the Underworld should be. Her robes were the most colorful thing in the realm, shades of blush and azure trimmed in silver cord. She wore a crown of spring flowers and ivy. Her eyes, ice blue and piercing, had yet to alight on Seraphina.

Maybe they wouldn’t. How many times in Persephone and Hades’s relationship had he been unfaithful to her? They had been together since the worlds were formed. Surely Persephone had no desire to live with a reminder of his infidelity. If so, that could work in Ares’s favor.

Both men stripped to the waist. Beneath their robes, they each wore loose breeches that went to the knee. Ares looked like a god himself, and Seraphina’s confidence in his ability to best Hades grew. He was taller than Hades and more heavily muscled, but not by much.

Hades had tied his hair back with a leather thong. “Are you ready for your beating, wraith?”

“Ready to give you one, old man.”

Hades steamed, probably exactly what Ares had intended. The god’s gaze shifted to Seraphina. “If any noncombatant crosses into the ring, the match will be forfeited in favor of the other warrior.”

Seraphina held her hands out. “I haven’t moved.”

Persephone lifted her hand. “At my mark.” Hades and Ares nodded. She dropped her hand. “Go!”

They circled each other, each looking for a weakness, some kind of opening, but with men like this, that wasn’t such an easy proposition.

Hades grinned. “It’s good to stretch the muscles, eh, boy?”

If that was supposed to insult Ares, Seraphina doubted it worked.

Ares responded, “I stretch my muscles every day. This won’t even make me break a sweat.”

Hades lunged, but Ares was astonishingly fast, and he was gone a good half second before Hades landed, sending a spray of gravel into the air.

Ares rolled his shoulders and walked around to the other side of the ring. The hourglass on his chest glowed brightly. He shot a quick glance at Seraphina and gave her a tiny nod of reassurance.

Hades charged again. This time, Ares bent his knees, caught Hades by the shoulders, lifted him like a child and tossed him cleanly over the boundary of the circle. Hades landed with a thud and a roar of displeasure that caused a section of the hedge wall closest to them to lose its leaves.

Persephone frowned. “One point to the wraith.”

Hades got up and stomped back into the ring. “You cheated. How dare you—”

Ares punched him across the jaw, drawing blood and laying the god out on the gravel again. “I do not cheat.”

Flames danced in Hades’s eyes as he got to his feet. With a growl, he leaped into the air and came down fist-first across Ares’s cheek. Ares staggered back, spitting out a mouthful of blood, but stayed on his feet and, somehow, in the circle.

Back and forth, they pummeled each other, until Persephone stood. “Husband.”

Hades drew back, one eye nearly swelled closed. He danced a safe distance away from Ares before answering her. “Yes, my love?”

“End this. I’m weary of this display.”

“I’m working on that, my pet.”

Her gaze slid over Ares before returning to Hades. “Perhaps the use of weapons should be permitted.”

Seraphina tensed, every fiber of her being alive at the sudden injustice. “No. That wasn’t in the rules. You can’t change things now.”

Persephone raised her hand. “A break is called.”

Hades nodded, ignoring Seraphina to walk to his wife’s side of the ring. “Very good, Persephone. Bring me my helm, my sweet?”

As Persephone went to get the requested item, Seraphina ran to the edge nearest Ares. “Do you have any weapons?”

He nodded. “Yes, but it requires me to take on my full reaper form.”

“Whatever that is, you’d better do it. His helm of darkness will make him invisible. You’re going to be fighting blind.”

“Invisible? Thanks for letting me know.” Ares took a deep breath and stared at Hades. “I’ll have to use my reaper form then. I can see auras in that form. Assuming he has one, it should help.”

“Is there any chance you can take his soul? You took mine.”

“He’s a god. I don’t think my powers extend that far. Especially since it was only because of that amulet I was able to reap yours.”

“Then do whatever you have to in order to win. I don’t care. I cannot stay here. Without you.”

“I will. I promise. Make sure you’re at a safe distance. I don’t want you hurt by one of us.”

Persephone returned, a golden helmet in her hands. She turned it over to Hades, then took her seat. “Go.”

Hades held the helm in his hands. “Would you like to borrow a weapon, wraith?”

“I’ve got some.” A shimmer of energy surrounded Ares and before Seraphina’s eyes, he morphed into his reaper form. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Enormous gray wings sprouted from his back. His eyes glowed red as embers in sockets too deep and dark to be anything but skull-like, reminding her of the very first time she’d seen him.

In both hands, he held glimmering, sharp scythes. He twirled them, cutting their wickedly curved blades through the air like they were extensions of his arms and making the air sing with a deadly song.

Seraphina sat on one of the benches, staring in disbelief at the scene before her eyes. Hades might be the lord of the Underworld, but Ares had just become death personified.

“Your little knives are rather delicate, aren’t they, wraith?” Hades grinned.

“Come closer and find out.” Ares slide the scythes across one another, sending a shower of sparks into the air. As much as he wanted a glimpse of Seraphina’s face, he was afraid of the fear he might see registered there. He knew his reaper form was something most people only saw in their nightmares.

“I’m about to come very close indeed.” With a laugh, Hades slipped the helm over his head and disappeared.

A low curse left Ares’s lips. Hades had no aura. At best, Ares could make out a subtle shift in the air, but that wasn’t going to be enough.

The invisible god collided with his right side. Ares twisted, swinging his scythes with the best accuracy he could hope for. Back and forth, back and forth, he cut through the air with as much speed as he could manage. On the third pass, his left blade came back red. Hades cried out, and drops of blood colored the gravel a few feet over.

Sensing his advantage, Ares tucked the blades against his wrists and charged. He hit muscle and bone. Hades dug in, but Ares had the momentum. They shot toward the edge of the circle with too much speed. Ares let go, but Hades had him around the neck.

Together, they tumbled out of the ring.

Hades’s helm popped off, and he reappeared. The cut was over his rib cage. He breathed heavily and glared daggers at Ares. “How did you cut me?”

“You’re lucky that’s all I did. These blades are built to reap souls.”

Persephone stood. “A point for each. The wraith leads.” With an exaggerated breath, she sat back down and frowned at Hades. “You’re bleeding. You know I don’t like blood.”

He jumped to his feet. “I know, my flower.” He glanced down at it. “It’s not healing. What have you done to me, wraith?”

Ares swung the scythes in slow circles. “A lot less than I’d like to.”

“Hades.” Persephone made a face and pointed to his wound. “The blood is making me ill.”

“Would you like me to bandage it?”

She sniffed and looked away. “Well, I’m not doing it.”

While Hades and Persephone figured out who was doing what, Ares dusted himself off and strode back to Seraphina. He stayed well within the ring and just stared at the ground in front of her, unwilling to force her to look at him straight on. “That didn’t go quite as planned.”

“It went great.” She bent to see his face. Her eyes held a kindness this form had never before witnessed. “I think you might have scared him a little, too.”

“Just him?” She didn’t look frightened, but he had to be sure.

She smiled. “The only thing I’m scared of is how hot those wings are. You look like a very naughty angel.”

He laughed. “You’re a strange woman, you know that?” He came closer. Within contact range.

“Which makes me perfect for you, because you’re a very odd guy.” She sneaked a glance at Hades, then leaned in and kissed Ares softly. “One more and you win. Be careful now. He’s not going to fight fair.”

“Like he has been?”

“I know. I told you the gods can be tricky.”

“What I need is some kind of advantage. What do you know about Hades that could help me? Anything?”

“He has one weakness.”

“Which is?”

She shifted her gaze over his shoulder. “His wife.”

Ares turned to see what she was looking at. Across from them, Persephone raised a fan to her face, her chin lifted as though the scene before her were too plebian for her to take in. Hades was pleading with her about something. The man obviously wanted to impress his wife.

“Seraphina, you’re brilliant.” Persephone was the key. “Why does she have so much power over him?”

“Eons ago, he kidnapped her and tricked her into eating six pomegranate seeds so now she has to spend a month with him here in the Underworld for each seed. She loathed him for what he did to her, but her mother made her marry him. Persephone tries to make the best of her time here. I think she’s even come to…maybe not enjoy, but she’s become comfortable here. She’s queen here. As for Hades, he loves her and still believes he can win her over completely.”

“He’s got a thing for keeping people against their will, huh?” Ares’s mind was spinning with possibilities. “He wants to look good in her eyes.”

“Yes. And she’s already bored with this fight. Not to mention, I’m sure she doesn’t want me here. She can’t even look at me. But she also knows how impossible Hades will be to live with if he loses.”

Ares smiled at Seraphina. “Maybe you can help me win this thing after all.”

“If it means you’re going to smile more, I’m in. What’s your idea?” Her eyes rounded. “Behind you!”

He turned in time to catch Hades as the god barreled into him. Only sheer force of will kept Ares from being pushed out of the ring. He grappled with Hades, both of them gaining and losing ground in equal measures. At least Hades didn’t have the helm of darkness on anymore. Movement caught Ares’s eye, but he dared not turn his head and lose focus.

Then he heard Seraphina’s voice.

“What should I call you, Hades? Daddy? Papa? Pops?” Seraphina stood on one of the stone benches and projected for all she was worth. “Maybe we can get Cleo to come visit if I have to stay here. Little family reunion. You must miss her terribly.”

Hades jerked around to look at her. His feet slipped, and Ares twisted, buying himself a few more feet inside the perimeter of the ring.

Seraphina’s distraction was working. She put her hands on her hips. “Maybe you two can rekindle your love. Of course, I don’t how if my mother will be all that interested in visiting with Persephone here.”

Persephone put her fan down.

Hades stumbled. He tore loose from Ares and came toward her. “No living soul may enter my realm without—”

Ares knocked him to the ground.

Persephone sat back down. Her frown was becoming a permanent thing.

Ares was pounding Hades. His gorgeous reaper wings were spread skyward. He really did look like an avenging angel. It wasn’t lost on her that he was, literally, saving her soul. A little sigh escaped her lips. She was falling for him. Hard.

Before she could think about that anymore, Hades got out from under Ares, and the two men were back on their feet, circling each other. Hades’s face was a bloody, swollen mess, but healing as she watched. The cut from the scythe across his ribs, however, showed no signs of mending. Whatever magic Ares’s scythes held, it was serious stuff. Hades swung and landed a blow squarely to Ares’s face.

He spat out blood as Hades came after him again.

Seraphina cringed. She’d had enough. She wanted to go home. Or at least to Ares’s home. She jumped off the bench and ran around the ring toward Persephone, planting herself in front of the goddess. “I know you don’t want me here.”

Persephone’s tired gaze rose to look at her. Finally. But she said nothing and went back to fanning herself and watching the two men beating the daylights out of each other.

Seraphina wasn’t so easily swayed. “If I have to stay here, I will be a constant reminder of Hades’s infidelity.”

Persephone’s nostrils flared.

“He said he loved my mother. He must have if he didn’t trick her into eating pomegranate seeds.”

Persephone jumped up and slapped Seraphina across the face. “Don’t you dare talk to me, you ill-born little—”

That was all the opening Seraphina needed. She shoved Persephone into the ring, then stood back with one hand up and the other pointing at the fallen goddess. “Forfeit!”

Persephone sat in the dirt, sputtering and furious. “Hades, she laid hands on me.”

The fight between Hades and Ares came to a grinding halt. Ares shifted back to his human form and looked very much like he was trying not to laugh. Goddess, she wished he would. She wanted to hear that sound more than anything.

Hades ran to Persephone’s side. “My sweet, are you all right?”

Seraphina pointed at her. “She crossed the line and she’s on your side, so you forfeit. Ares and I win.”

Hades snarled. “You cheated.”

She canted her head at him. “So did you. Weapons were never a part of the rules.”

He helped Persephone to her feet. The goddess brushed dirt off her gown and glared daggers at Seraphina. “I want her gone.”

“But, my love—”

“Now,” Persephone raged. She pointed back toward the gate. “And I never want to see her again, do you understand? I don’t want to hear her name. I don’t even want you to use the word amused around me, is that clear?”

Hades seethed for a moment, stuck as he was between the woman he loved and the daughter he wanted to control. He turned slowly toward Ares. His voice came out like distant thunder, quiet but threatening. “Take Seraphina and get out. If you ever need to bring a soul to me again, get someone else to do it.”

“Understood.” Ares glanced at Seraphina and winked.

She raced to his side. He took her hand, an expression of joy washing over him. “Ready to go home?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hades,” Ares called out. “How do we get out of here?”

“The fastest way possible.” He held his hand out toward them, and fog swirled around them, blinding them until they were almost choked with it.

When it cleared a few seconds later, they were back in Ares’s penthouse.

Ares shook his head. “I’ve seen a lot of weirdness in my time as a Collector, but that beats all.” He looked at the beautiful, brave woman standing across from him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” Her hand went to her stomach. “Actually, I’m starving. And I have no idea what time it is. How long were we there?”

“I’m hungry, too.” He checked a clock. “We weren’t gone more than an hour. It’s almost one a.m. I could make you something to eat.”

She grinned and put her hand on her chest. “As appealing as the thought of you in the kitchen is, I want to go out. I mean, we’re together now, right?”

“Absolutely. But…” Could she hear how fast his heart was beating? Did she know she did that to him? He shook his head. “I’m not great with being…out.”

She tipped her head. “How else will I show you off?”

His mouth opened, and nothing came out. Instead of talking, he blinked.

She laughed. “What’s wrong?”

“You want to show me off?” More blinking. “I don’t understand that.”

“Didn’t you and the vampiress go out?”

“Once in a while, but not much.”

“Because she was more into going out alone and sucking the tourists dry? I’m not her. I like to go out and have fun and be around people. I’m a muse. Being around people is sort of my thing.”

“But I’m a wraith, and my touch—”

“Kills people. I know. I get it. But you can take precautions. Get your leathers on, and let’s go. This is Vegas. There are a thousand places still open, and I want a steak.” She stuck her bottom lip out the tiniest bit. “Please.”

“That pouting thing is cheating.”

“Yes, I know, but seeing how well cheating just worked, I thought I’d try it again.”

He’d lived the bulk of his life in solitary confinement in the name of protecting people. In the light of Seraphina’s brilliant presence, he realized the only one he’d been protecting was himself. He’d wanted companionship so badly he’d ached for it. And now here she was, his demigoddess. “I get to pick the place.”

A huge grin broke out across her face. “Excellent. Where’re we going, tall dark and deathly?”

“You’ll see. Let me change, and we’ll head down to the garage.” He strode toward the bedroom, feeling like he’d suddenly become someone else.

“Can I drive?” she called after him.

“Nope.”

“Worth a shot.”

He imagined her rummaging through his stuff while he got dressed, but then realized he didn’t have a whole lot of stuff to rummage through. His existence had been focused on death for so long, he’d forgotten to live. After calling down to the garage to get his Benz ready, he snagged a dress shirt and suit from his closet and threw them on. When he was done, he walked back out to the living room. She was sitting on the couch, waiting.

She whistled. “I thought you were going to be in leather again. I like the suit. Very much. I feel a little underdressed now.”

“You look great.” Her miniskirt and silk blouse had come back from the Underworld with no signs of wear. And the high heels she seemed to favor were fast becoming the stuff of his fantasies. He pulled a pair of leather gloves out of the coat closet. “I still have to wear these, you know.”

She stood. “I understand.” Her stomach growled, and she laughed. “Ready?”

“Yes. No. Almost. Come here.”

She walked over to him, eyes full of questions. “What is it?”

His hands settled on her hips, and he stared into her eyes. “I want to kiss you.”

“You don’t always have to announce that.”

“I thought I should give you warning.”

“Why’s tha—”

His mouth captured hers with the kind of desire created by adrenaline. They’d shared a trial by fire and come out unscorched. Now, nothing stood in his way of having her. She was his to touch, his to hold, his to kiss. And he had a lot of years to make up for.

She wrapped her arms around him and scratched light trails down his back, raising goose bumps on his skin.

His hands drifted down to cup her backside and pull her closer. She sighed in pleasure as she tipped her head back and stared up at him. “I could get used to this.”

“Good, because it’s going to happen a lot.” He grinned, something he was also starting to get used to. “Let’s go get you some food.”

Hand in hand, they headed down to the garage, where his Mercedes awaited. She looked from the car to him. “No Maybach?”

“I thought this would be more comfortable.” He opened the door for her.

She nodded. “It’s very comfortable.”

He walked around and got in the other side.

“How many cars do you have?”

“Eleven.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s a lot of cars.”

“Really? How many pairs of shoes do you have?”

She laughed as he drove out of the garage. “Not enough to equal eleven cars. Not the kind of cars you buy.”

He smiled. “Point taken.” Then he shrugged. “I like cars.”

She reached over and squeezed his knee. “Hey, I get it. It’s not like you were spending your money on bottle service and club life.”

“I’m thinking that’s going to change.”

She laughed softly. “I like staying in just as much as the next person. Okay, maybe not quite that much, but I’m willing to compromise if you are.”

“We’re going out, aren’t we?”

“And you’re earning major points.”

He stole a sideways glance at her. “Will I be able to redeem those points later?”

She laughed and was about to say something when Another One Bites the Dust started playing.

His cell phone. Romero. Ares frowned. “I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s work.”

“It’s okay.” She looked like she actually meant it, too.

He grabbed his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Yes?”

“I thought you took care of Gozer.”

“I did.” He turned toward the Strip.

“Then can you tell me why he just abducted a woman from a mini-mart in Henderson?”

Ares went still. “You’re sure it was him?”

“How many one-eyed goblins do you know?” Romero shouted, then his tone went back to just pissed off. “We tracked him with a drone. He’s back in his burrow.”

“I’ll take care of it.” He cut across traffic to make a U-turn.

“I suggest you do. Permanently this time.” Romero hung up.

Ares tapped the phone off. “Damn it.”

“I take it we’re not going to dinner?”

“No. Gozer’s back. Getting kicked into that mine shaft didn’t kill him, apparently. He just abducted another woman. I need to drop you off somewhere. I hate to do that to you, but I have to take care of this now.”

“It’s your job. I understand. How on earth did he survive that fall?”

“Apparently, goblins are tougher than I thought.”

“Maybe I can help?”

His brows lifted. “I appreciate that, but I don’t want you getting hurt. This is Collector business. I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

“I’m immortal, remember? I can’t get hurt. Well, not in a permanent way.” She ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck, sending a shiver of pleasure through him. “At least let me act as a lookout like Minka did the first time we went in. Just in case he’s got a buddy. Or I could help get the woman out of danger.”

She had a point. A very small point. “Goblins rarely work in groups. They’re not big on sharing.” Her fingers started massaging his neck. “But I guess it would be all right if you came along. I’ll give you a weapon.”

“Thanks.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then nipped his earlobe. “You know what they say: The couple that slays together, stays together.”

“No one says that.”

“They should.” Her mouth traveled lower on his neck while her hands kept working their magic.

He inhaled sharply at the sensations traveling from her fingers and into his body. “This is going to be the fastest Collection ever.”

Ares got them back to Gozer’s burrow in record time. Seraphina wanted to soothe away the lines in his forehead, but she understood the seriousness of what was about to go down, so she’d pulled herself away from him and let him drive. He parked the car in the same place as last time, turned the engine off and faced her. “You do exactly as I say.”

“Promise.”

“You can start with ditching those heels. You need to be able to run if necessary.”

“No problem.” She pulled off her stilettos, tossed them in the back and then took out the emergency pair of fold-up ballet flats she always kept in her bag.

He watched with amused interest as she put them on. “What else do you keep in there?”

“No weapon, I can tell you that much.”

He popped open the glove box and took out a hunting knife. “Take this. It’s better than nothing. If something happens and you have to use it, aim for under the chin.”

She made a face but accepted the weapon. “Are you going full reaper for this?”

“I can’t. Too small a space for those wings. All I need is to lay a hand on him.”

She nodded. “Let’s go save that woman.”

“And end this goblin problem, once and for all.”

They got out and made a silent trek to the mine’s entrance. He turned to her and kissed her gently. “Stay here until you hear me call for you.”

“I will,” she whispered back.

A woman’s scream rent the night.

He jerked toward the sound. “Forget that. Just stay behind me.”

“You got it.”

He squeezed through the entrance and took off. She knew he wasn’t moving at the speed he was capable of on her account, so she pushed herself to run faster. Ballet flats or not, the rocky ground didn’t make for easy going.

The woman’s cries grew louder. “Help me!”

He lifted his hand and slowed, stopping at the fork in the tunnel that she remembered. He pointed at himself, then toward the passage beyond. I’m going in. Then he pointed at her and the ground. You stay here. She nodded. He tapped his ear. Listen for me. She nodded again, her fingers squeezing the hilt of the hunting knife harder than necessary.

He slipped into the fork. Any sound he made was covered by the grunts and yelps of the struggle farther in.

She was supposed to stay where she was. She knew that. Demigoddesses rarely did what they were supposed to. She inched forward. Part of her wanted to watch him in action and part of her wanted to do whatever she could to help the terrified woman. Her cries for help were gut-wrenching. Seraphina inched along the rock wall, her heart pounding.

A loud crash was followed by a deep rumble of pain. The goblin? The woman had gone quiet. A scream of surprise. Then Seraphina heard voices.

“Come any closer, and I’ll cut you.” Gozer. He sounded breathy. Like Ares had scared the glow-in-the-dark goo right out of him. Good.

Ares snarled back at him. “You’re not leaving this mine alive, Gozer. Taking that woman was a dumb move. Let her go, and we’ll talk about letting you live.”

The woman sniffled. Seraphina crept closer and peered around the wall. The woman was on the ground at Gozer’s feet. Scratches and scrapes covered her skin, and her clothing was torn.

Gozer looked worse than the last time. He was still wearing the stolen gas station jumpsuit, but it had a few rips in it, probably from the fall. His face had some odd discolorations, too. Goblin bruises? In one hand, he held a long, narrow blade. He waved it threateningly at Ares, but Gozer’s position was tenuous. He stood only half a yard from the vertical shaft Ares had kicked him into the last time.

Ares loomed in front of him, arms wide, the tension of his body telegraphing his readiness to strike.

Gozer laughed, a horrifying sound that revealed too many teeth. “Are you going to kick me again, Collector?”

“No. You have my word.”

The goblin sneered. “Like that means anything.”

“Let the woman go and give yourself a chance.”

What Ares needed was a distraction or this back-and-forth was going to go on all night. Seraphina crouched down quietly and felt around on the ground until she found a golf-ball-sized rock. She stood, adjusted her position and threw the stone past Gozer and into the hole.

The rock ricocheted loudly off the side, and more stones joined it. The noise reverberated through the narrow cavern. Gozer looked over his shoulder.

Ares lunged. He flew across the space separating him from the goblin and grabbed the creature around the waist. Gozer screamed at the same time the woman did. He brandished his short sword, slicing at Ares. Seraphina couldn’t tell if he connected or not.

Then the unthinkable happened. Gozer stumbled backward, taking Ares with him. They teetered for a moment on the edge of the hole.

Seraphina ran forward, but it was too late. Gozer and Ares tumbled into the abyss. She cried out and skidded to a stop at the edge. She fell to her knees and peered in. It was too dark to see anything.

Beside her, the woman who’d been abducted put a hand on her foot. “Thank you for saving me.”

Seraphina nodded, her gaze searching the blackness below for some sign of Ares.

“Was that your friend that fell in with that monster?”

“Yes,” Seraphina answered. Her friend. What an insufficient word to describe how she felt about Ares. About the man who’d become the missing piece in her life in a few short days. She swallowed down a hard sob, sat back and scrubbed a hand over her eyes. “We should get you out of here.”

She pushed to her knees and helped the woman up. They were about to head out when the soft movement of air caught Seraphina’s attention. She took the woman’s arm and led her away from the pit.

Ares, borne by the wings of his full reaper form, rose out of the hole, the lifeless body of the goblin dangling from one hand.

The woman fainted.

He landed and immediately shifted back into his human form. “Is she okay?”

“As best I can tell. She’s got a few bite marks and scratches, but those should heal. Right?”

“Right. Are you okay?”

Seraphina let out a long breath and threw her arms around him. “Now that you’re back, yes.”

A day later and Ares found himself walking up to the front door of Javier Bares’s mansion once again. This time with a very different attitude and for a very different reason. A much better reason. He shifted the bouquet he’d brought to the other hand, rang the bell and waited.

A few seconds later, the most amazing woman in the world answered the door. Seraphina dazzled him with a smile he loved more every time he saw it. And he had plans for seeing it often. She leaned against the doorframe. “Hi there.”

“Hello, beautiful.” He whistled. “You look supernaturally good in that dress.” What there was of it.

She laughed. “I’m glad you like it.” Straightening, she did a little spin.

He held out the flowers. “For you.”

“They’re gorgeous.” She took them, leaning in to inhale the deep-red roses, their color burnishing her skin with a deep blush. “Thank you.” She took his hand, pulled him into the house and kissed him, but there was apprehension in her eyes. “Everything taken care of?”

“Everything.” After disposing of the goblin’s body, Ares had had to go into the office and discuss in detail what had happened during both attempts to Collect Gozer. Even Minka had been called in. Romero had been thorough, but satisfied. “That chapter is closed.”

She exhaled. “Wonderful. Now we can begin a new one with no interruptions.”

Dahlia walked into the foyer and pulled her earbuds out. “Hi. My dad said you were coming to pick up Seraphina. Thanks for saving me.”

Ares bowed his head. “You’re welcome. You’re a very lucky girl. In more ways than one.”

Her mouth scrunched up to one side, and she mumbled, “Yeah,” before putting her earbuds back in and shuffling out again.

“Teenagers,” Seraphina said. “Let me run these flowers into the kitchen so Lucinda can put them in water, then I’m ready to go.” She was back in a flash, and they walked to the car together. “What number car is this? What kind of car is this? Lamborghini?”

“Yes. The Aventador, and it’s number seven.” He lifted the Lamborghini’s scissor door on her side. “Did I mention how beautiful you look?”

“You did.” She smiled and blushed without the help of the flowers this time. “What you didn’t mention is where we’re going.”

“You’ll see.” He shut the door, walked around to his side and got in. “We’re going back to the same place we went on our first date.”

Her brows shot up. “We had a first date?”

“I’m calling it that.”

“And where would that be?”

He pulled on his gloves and revved the engine. “Lux.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Can we dance?”

He drove toward the freeway. “On the dance floor surrounded by humans, no. In the VIP section by ourselves, still no.”

“What? That’s not fair. I love to dance.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t dance.” He shot her a look. “I can’t be on the dance floor with all those people. What if I accidentally touch someone?”

“Then why can’t we dance by ourselves in the VIP area? It was pretty private up there.” She leaned in and traced the curve of his ear. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

He sighed. “One song. We’ll see how it goes.”

She leaned in farther, and her hand slipped down the neck of his shirt.

His breath stuttered. “Now who’s not playing fair?”

Her lips were on his ear. “All’s fair in love and war, right?” She went strangely still, then sat back, a worried look in her eyes. “I didn’t mean to say…that is, I’m not trying to push things. I just…it’s a saying is all.”

“You don’t want me to think you might be falling in love with me?”

For the next few seconds, all he could hear was the rapid beat of her heart and the soft inhalations of her breathing. “What if I am?”

Somehow, he kept his eyes on the road. “You sure that’s a smart move? I’ve lived alone my entire life. I’m ill-tempered, gruff, antisocial, as you’ve seen, stubborn and generally considered unpleasant to be around. Also, I don’t like to share. Meaning you. I find the thought of you with another man unacceptable. And yet, I know how you draw people. It’s who you are. I’m not sure how I’m going to deal with that.”

He took a breath and kept going. “And then there’s my job. I can’t talk about the Collections I’m sent on, so you’re going to have to have a lot of trust in me. My job is a big part of who I am. It keeps me sane in a lot of ways, but the work I do isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“I get that,” she said softly.

“Do you? Because I guess what I’m asking is, have you thought about what falling in love with someone like me really means? What it’s going to cost you?”

Her answer was quiet but sure. “I don’t think you’re half those things. The man I see is strong and brave and caring and deeply deserving of love and affection. And other men? I don’t want another man. I want you. The only cost I see would be from not being with you.” Her volume increased. “And so you know, I’m no walk in the park, either. You think you’re stubborn? Ha. I’m so used to getting what I want that I won’t accept the alternative.”

She crossed her arms. “I expect loyalty, affection, occasional pampering and fun. If you’re not delivering on any of those things, I’ll let you know. I’m not about to give up being Javier’s muse, either. I have to work—just like you, it keeps me going. So, I guess the real question is have you thought about what falling in love with someone like me really means?” She canted forward with her brows lifted. “I’m a demigoddess, in case you’ve forgotten. High expectations are built into my DNA.”

Unable to keep a straight face any longer, he burst out laughing. “Where have you been all my life? Seraphina Kostos, it will be my supreme pleasure to spend the rest of eternity spoiling you silly and doing everything I can to take your breath away in the most wicked ways possible.” He looked at her. “What do you say?”

Her grin was infectious. “I say, Bring it on, baby.”

He pointed right in front of her. “Open the glove box.”

“This thing has a glove box?”

“Yes. It’s small, but it’s there.” And so was a very special surprise.

She popped the small door open, and a slim box fell into her lap. “What’s this?”

“Let’s call it an expression of my affections and a promise of things to come.”

She opened it and gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Do you like it?” He had stopped by Claudette Marchon’s Gem Exchange on his way, knowing the former Collector specialized in high-end estate pieces. As soon as he’d seen the diamond and sapphire bracelet, he’d had to have it for Seraphina. It was a rare art deco piece, as unique and beautiful as she was.

Seraphina held it up. “It’s…it’s gorgeous. Incredible. It’s too much.”

“It’s only the beginning.” He smiled. “I am falling in love with you, Seraphina. I know it’s only been a few days, but I don’t need time to tell me you’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Me, either. I feel the same way.” She clasped the bracelet around her wrist then reached over and grabbed his hand. “Thank you. I love the bracelet.” She snickered softly. “I can’t wait to see how it sparkles when we’re dancing.”

DOUBLE OR NOTHING

A Sin City Collectors Novella

Kristen Painter

“This fun, fresh series ups the ante and takes you on a wild ride you won’t forget! Clever, fast-paced, flirty—Viva Las Vegas!”

~ Gena Showalter, NYT Best Selling Author

Welcome to Las Vegas, home of the Sin City Collectors. The job description is easy: Bring the offending supernatural in to the Boss and don’t ask any questions.

Gage Hudson is a vampire on a mission. All he wants—all he’s ever wanted—is to locate the vampire who killed his brother and exact his revenge. Even if that means losing his job as a Gotham City Collector. And he knows what loss feels like, because his desire for revenge has already cost him the love of his life.

Sin City Collector and pixie Minka Winslow has revenge fantasies of her own and they all involve Gage. When he walked out on her with no explanation, she took the heat for the Collection he ruined. Fortunately for him, she’s put that part of her life behind her.

At least until the two are forced to work together to stay alive. When an enemy from their past returns to threaten them, they have no choice but to reconcile long enough to survive. Then new information changes everything. Just how much will they gamble to make things work this time?

What’s Collected in Vegas, stays in Vegas…

*All Sin City Collectors Novellas are stand alone novellas, all set within the world of the SCC. Our goal is for you to sit back and enjoy the ride as each author presents their unique story. The world of the Sin City Collectors is big. Places and characters will overlap, so be sure to look for your favorites and stay tuned for more novellas!

For the House of Pain street team—I love you guys!

Even from two stories below, the tinny clink of the mail slot opening and closing roused Gage Hudson from sleep. He sat up in bed, the sheets sliding off as he tensed, ready to attack, but no further noise came, just the usual sounds of the city going about its day outside his brownstone.

He left the bed and headed downstairs to the foyer. The house’s dark interior was no obstacle to his vampire eyes. A note card lay on the floor near the locked door. He picked it up, inhaling for any trace of the person who’d pushed it through the mail slot, but there was nothing unusual.

He turned it over. Scratchy, near-illegible handwriting marred the card’s ivory surface.

Willem Gage Hudson. No one ever used his full name. I have found the one you seek. A time and address followed.

Everything in Gage shut down as an image of Spenser Blackwell overwhelmed his thoughts. The vilest of all vampires, Spenser took what he wanted and didn’t care who paid the price. One of those who’d paid, and paid dearly, had been Caleb, Gage’s brother. And all because in another life and time, when the three of them had been newly turned and high on power, Gage had bedded the girl Spenser had wanted for his own.

A foolish decision. One he’d spent the last two hundred years wishing he could undo.

Gage frowned at the memory and the note. He had no idea who’d sent the card, but that didn’t matter. He’d follow any thread that might take him to Blackwell.

The address was in Las Vegas. What were the odds Blackwell would show up in Gage’s old stomping grounds? But then Blackwell had to be somewhere. He certainly wasn’t in New York. None of Gage’s leads here had amounted to anything.

He checked the mantel clock. Almost noon. No wonder why he felt like he was wading through quicksand. Still, that was plenty of time for him to make travel arrangements. If he booked a red-eye for this evening, he could arrive in Vegas before sunup tomorrow. He’d have to take care of all his own arrangements there, too, since this wasn’t an agency job, but he still had plenty of connections in Vegas.

The dull ache along his gum line reminded him he needed to feed, but the memories of Blackwell had ruined his appetite. Besides, a bag of blood from the cold storage just wasn’t the same as tapping a vein, even though that was all he’d allowed himself lately. There were places in Vegas he could visit when he arrived, places that would supply him with a willing donor.

Actually, there were places in Vegas that would send a donor to his suite once he was checked in. Agencies in Manhattan would do that, too, but he’d kept away from those services on purpose after finding out that some donors had a tendency to get attached. The last thing he wanted was some kind of relationship entanglement. The delivery service he used kept him fed. That was all he needed. For now.

Gage walked back up to his room, sat on the edge of the bed and flicked the card against his thigh. Vegas. The memories of his days there as a Sin City Collector were bittersweet. Living here in New York, the city he’d grown up in, and working for the Gotham City Collectors had its own challenges, but Vegas had been an especially delicious kind of crazy.

Mostly because of the woman he’d left behind.

How did he go to Vegas without seeing her? He almost laughed. That assumed she’d want to see him, which was highly unlikely since he’d walked away and left her without a word after…everything that had gone down. He’d had no other choice.

It also assumed she was still in Vegas, still working as a Collector herself.

She probably was, but things could have changed since the last bit of intel he’d received. The Collectors, no matter what city they worked out of, had a grapevine of their own. Every once in a while, he’d heard her name, maybe a detail or two of a Collection she’d been on, but not much else. Like if she was seeing anyone, or even married, for that matter.

The possibility of either darkened his mood further.

Whatever her status, there was no way she’d want to see him. Was there? No, probably not. Damn it, he’d screwed the pooch hard on that one. He shoved a hand through his hair and growled softly. To say he missed Minka was an understatement. He hadn’t been involved with another woman since. Maybe being alone was his penance for what he’d done to her, for being the reason they weren’t together anymore.

He knew she’d felt betrayed, but he’d had no other option. His brother or the woman he loved? He just hadn’t realized then how much he’d loved her.

With a deep sigh, he lay back on the bed and stared into the dark. It was common courtesy for an incoming Collector to give the local branch a heads up if they were going to be in the area, but this wasn’t exactly an on-the-books Collection. And as much as he wanted to see Minka, to finally get the chance to explain, he didn’t need the SCC breathing down his neck.

A quick in and out. Find Blackwell and do whatever was necessary to make him spill the location of Caleb’s remains. Then Gage could give his brother a proper burial and be back in New York City, ready for his next Collection, before anyone was the wiser.

Including the woman who still held his heart.

Minka Winslow studied the hand-painted playing card that had been delivered to her only a few hours ago. The card wasn’t unusual in and of itself. That’s how headquarters sent out Collection information, and in all her days as a Sin City Collector, she’d never gotten mission information any other way. The Boss was quirky that way.

This card just seemed…different. The painting looked a little sloppy. Rushed. It might just be the urgency of the job.

Or maybe she should call her handler. A quick check of the time showed she was five minutes early for the meet. She’d give it ten more. She leaned against the stucco wall, shoved the card into the back pocket of her jeans and tried to wait with a little more patience. She tugged her leather jacket tighter and wrinkled her nose. The alley behind the laundromat smelled of fabric softener and urine.

A noise to her left put her on guard. Someone was coming. She flattened against the wall, her hand instantly going to the blade at her hip. It might just be a street person, but she liked to err on the side of caution.

The figure, a man, put his hands up as he came toward her. His right elbow stayed tucked to his side, holding a small package under his arm. The small, padded envelope looked like it held something long and not too bulky. “Are you Minka? I was supposed to look for a hot blonde.” He grinned, revealing a missing molar. “You’re definitely hot.”

This must be her contact. Regardless, her hand stayed on the blade’s hilt and she ignored his comment. “Yes. Who are you?”

“Just the deliveryman.” He put his hands down and nudged his oddly clean Blue Moon Casino trucker hat up before carefully offering her the package. “This is for you.” His grin stayed in place, but his eyes traveled over her in a way that made her want to shower.

“What is it?”

He shrugged and lifted the package a little higher. “Like I said, I’m just the deliveryman, pretty lady.”

“Who hired you to deliver it?” She let him keep holding the package.

“Some guy with deep pockets. Said he knew you could help him.” The man sighed, his cheery mood gone. “Look, lady, you want the thing or not? I got other places to be.”

She took the envelope. “What’s your name?”

He got twitchy. It was either nerves or he needed his next fix. “The guy said I wouldn’t have to use my name.”

“The fact that you don’t want to give it to me makes me think there’s a reason I shouldn’t trust you.” Trust was a big issue with her. Big. She pulled her blade. “What’s your name?”

His gaze stuck on the weapon. He seemed reasonably impressed with it. “Dave Scabinski. My friends call me Scab.”

Of course they did.

He put his hands up again and backed away. “You got no reason not to trust me. I’m a decent guy. I hang out at Sharkey’s. You can ask around.”

Sharkey’s was a neighborhood pool hall known for cheap beer and loose slots. It attracted a crowd of hardworking, blue-collar locals and generally seemed like an all right place, even if it was a strictly human joint.

She briefly entertained blowing a little pixie dust on him, the truth serum of her kind, but decided against it. It took time and energy to recharge that ability, and she didn’t feel like wasting it on him. She couldn’t go into this job needing a nap either. Instead, she gestured with the blade toward the other end of the alley. “Get out of here.”

With a few mumbled words, he took off. She squeezed the envelope. Something hard and slender inside. A quick glance in both directions confirmed she was alone. She stuck the envelope inside her jacket and headed back to her car.

Once in the driver’s seat with the door locked, she tore the envelope open and looked at the contents. A slim, faceted glass vial and a note. She pulled the vial out and studied the green liquid inside. Nothing she could immediately identify. She dumped the envelope over to shake the note free.

Holding the vial in one hand, she read the note.

I’ve been told you can help me identify the maker of this love potion. You’re my only hope. I will pay handsomely. A phone number followed.

A love potion. This was her Collection? She snorted softly. Love. Love was for fools, something she’d learned the hard way. She tucked the note between her leg and the seat. There were a couple of witches in the Sin City Collectors who could probably whip up a love potion, but that didn’t mean she’d be able to identify who’d made this batch. She tipped the vial, watching a bubble travel through the viscous liquid. There was no label or marking. Nothing to indicate its origin.

She righted it and wiggled the cork free. Maybe smelling the contents would give her some idea if it was plant-based. That might be an indicator as to who’d concocted it. As soon as the cork was out, a thin stream of vapor curled up from the vial’s throat. Potent stuff, apparently. She leaned in, but not too close, and took a whiff.

Like almonds, but sweet and…and…

Her head spun, and the edges of her vision blurred. She tried to push the cork back into the opening, but her fingers were slow and her body wouldn’t respond to her commands. The vial fell from her hands and onto the floor mat. The green liquid trickled out as the vapors filled her car.

She groped for it, her movements sluggish and her thoughts getting harder to process. She slumped over the console, unable to move more than to twitch her fingers or blink her eyes. What little consciousness she had left registered a dark shape outside her car.

Then the last bit of her hold on reality gave way into…nothing.

Outside Gage’s plane window, the lights of the Vegas airport broke through the darkness. He pulled the shade down. Forty-five minutes to sunrise, but the itch of the coming dawn had already taken over his skin. He was used to it. Wasn’t the kind of vampire who got panicky either. He’d have never made it in the Collectors if he was. Nothing to worry about anyway. Everything was in place. The hired car, the suite on the Strip. One of the best perks about casinos was lots and lots of windowless space, although he wouldn’t be here long enough to enjoy that one.

The plane touched down, and his first thought was how close he was to Minka again. He shook his head. Those kinds of thoughts weren’t going to help him accomplish what he’d come to do.

His only goal was to lie low until sundown, then head to the address on the note card at the appropriate time. And then, if the info was right, he’d soon see Blackwell face-to-face again. A chime sounded in the plane, letting passengers know they could get out of their seats. First class was a great way to travel, especially for someone of his size, but in cases like this, it also got him off the plane first. Important when time was of the essence.

Bag in hand, he flipped his collar up, put his sunglasses on and headed toward the pickup area. A man in a simple black suit held a sign that read W.G. Hudson. Gage gave the man a nod. “I’m Hudson.”

The man stuck the sign beneath his arm. “Welcome to Las Vegas, Mr. Hudson. I’m Ernie, your driver. Do you need to go to baggage claim?”

Ernie was a shifter of some sort by the smell of him. Wolf, coyote, one of the canine varieties. Whatever. All that mattered was that the service catered to supes and had UV-proof windows on their vehicles. “No. Straight to the car.”

As if reading Gage’s mind, Ernie answered, “I’ve got a Lincoln Navigator, fully tinted. If you want to wait by these doors, I’ll have it around in just a minute.”

“Fine.” Gage stood by the sliding glass doors. Pink edged the horizon line. Dawn. He refused to let it panic him. There was plenty of time yet.

Ernie was quick with the car, but Gage didn’t wait for him to get out and open the door. He climbed into the back as soon as the vehicle rolled to a stop. “Right to the hotel, please.”

“You got it, Mr. Hudson.” Ernie smiled in the rearview mirror before throwing the SUV into drive and pulling into traffic. “I took the liberty of getting you some refreshments. There’s a thermos in the backseat pocket. Should still be plenty warm.”

Gage’s gaze dropped to the container. His fangs punched through his gums. He forced them back. He never drank blood from an unverified source. “No, thanks.”

Ernie laughed and shook his head. “My sister-in-law told me you wouldn’t drink it.” He changed lanes. “My brother’s married to a vampire. Nice girl. Brazilian. Crazy temper.” He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “No worries if you don’t want it. She’ll drink it.”

Gage’s eyes went back to the thermos. The seal on the cap, put in place by the lab, was unbroken. He took the thermos out and read the name and address on the seal. “She ever get supplies from this place before?”

“Oh yeah,” Ernie said. “All the time. That’s how I found the place. Blood’s not exactly my thing, but then you probably guessed that.”

“You’re a shifter.” The thermos was warm in his hand. Warm from the blood inside it.

Ernie nodded, his eyes on the cars around him now. “Coyote.”

“That’s what I’d guessed.” Gage made small talk, but his attention was focused on the thermos. Drinking the blood would save him the effort of getting a donor sent over. That meant more time to sleep and prepare for the night ahead. Less risk of the SCC finding out he was in town, as they sometimes monitored those services as a preemptive measure. “How’d your brother end up married to a vampire?”

“Long story.” Ernie shrugged. “My brother’s kind of a risk taker. They met nighttime skydiving, if you can believe that.”

Gage twisted off the top of the thermos, breaking the seal. The warm, earthy aroma set his body alive with anticipation. He held the container up to Ernie. “Thanks for this.”

Ernie nodded. “I do my best to make my customers happy.” He punched a button, and the glass divider between them started up. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

“Appreciated.” Gage tipped the thermos back and drank. It was warm and good and exactly what he needed. He’d almost downed the whole thing in one long swallow when the bitter aftertaste hit him. Gagging, he spit what remained in his mouth back into the thermos. “There’s something wrong with this blood.”

The divider was up. He pounded on it. “What’s in this blood?”

Ernie laughed, but a sharp whine drowned out the sound and made Gage’s head ache. His body went loose, his muscles unresponsive. His head felt heavy. Hard to hold up. “What did you do to me?”

Ernie’s only answer was to turn the SUV in the opposite direction of the hotel.

Gage lifted a hand toward the door handle, but he made it only halfway before his body stopped responding entirely. He slipped farther down in the seat. The whine in his head turned to a dull throb that morphed into the hum of the road beneath the SUV. With each passing second, his vision grew darker, until at last, everything went black.

Minka’s muscles were stiff with cold and disuse. She shifted, trying to move her right arm, but it was stuck beneath her, dead with pins and needles. She grabbed it with her left hand and pulled it free. The rush of blood and pain made her gasp. She lay on her back, rubbing the feeling into her arm. The floor beneath her was hard, cold and smooth. She put a hand on it. Concrete.

But the most overwhelming thing was the darkness. Utter blackness that not even her supernatural eyes could penetrate. She put her hand in front of her face and wiggled her fingers. Not a thing.

She went back over what she remembered. The green vial in the envelope. That was no love potion. What it had been was some kind of knock-out concoction. Which meant she’d been set up. The playing card she’d thought had looked wonky was clearly part of it. But who would do that to her? And for what reason?

Sure, there were supes she’d Collected in the past who might be out to get her, but most of them were imprisoned. Some were dead. She thought through past cases, but came up with no clear idea of who could be behind this.

At least she still had all her clothes. She reached into her jacket pocket. But no phone and no keys. Damn it. Her knife was gone, too. She listened for a sound, for anything that might be a clue as to where she was, but the place was as silent as a tomb.

That was a happy thought.

After one more stretch of her numb arm, she turned over and got on her hands and knees. She reached back and checked the pocket of her jeans. The playing card was gone, too. That clinched it. She’d definitely been set up. Whoever was behind this was in for a surprise. Pixies had wicked tempers, and when she got out of here, she’d give them a little demonstration. Inch by inch, she moved forward, sweeping her hands out in front of her, trying to find a wall or a door or something that would help her figure out where she was and how to escape.

Her fingers collided with metal. Bars. She slid her hands up them as she stood. The bars continued over her head. She followed the bars to the right, hoping for an opening. She didn’t find one, but eventually hit a metal wall. The steel plate was smooth except for rivets at regular intervals. She followed the wall, keeping right and counting her steps until she judged it to be about ten feet long. At the end were more bars. She kept going, counting steps and feeling her way around until at last she’d completed the circuit and was back at the metal wall again.

She was in a cell. Ten by ten, with one metal wall and three made of inch-thick metal bars. There was no door or opening that she could find.

Defeat settled over her for a moment, but she shook it off. She wasn’t a quitter. Never had been. Wasn’t going to start now.

She paced the span of the cell, keeping her hands out in front of her to avoid smacking into the bars. When she reached the far side, she grasped the bars and shook. Solid. She ran her hands up and down as far as they would go. About a foot from the floor was a flat crossbar. She wedged the toes of her boots between the bars and stood on the cross span, reaching up farther.

Another flat crossbar. She could just wrap her fingers over it. Being short sucked. If she went up on her tiptoes, she could almost get her whole hand on it. Using every ounce of supernatural strength, she pulled herself up and got her elbows on the bar.

Bracing her knees and feet against the bars and using all her strength to hold herself in place, she slipped one hand up the bars toward the ceiling to see if she could touch it. But the bars continued higher than she could reach. With a soft curse, she jumped off. Her boots hit the concrete with a slap.

Anger unfurled in her belly. Whoever was behind this was going to be very sorry when she got out. She grabbed the bars again and shook them. “Show yourself. Whoever’s kidnapped me, let me see your cowardly face.”

A rectangle of lights flared to life with an electric snap, blinding her. She shielded her eyes and squinted. They were on a far wall, maybe fifteen feet from the bars. Her eyes adjusted slowly. The lights surrounded a panel of black glass. One way, probably. On either side, cameras hung from the ceiling. The only exit she could see was a door directly across from her cell.

She stared at the black window. No doubt her captor was watching her. Perv. She crossed her arms and glared at whoever was up there. “I’m ready to get out of here.”

No response.

Her anger blossomed into something that caused her muscles to tremble with the need for action. “Did you hear me?”

Still no response.

The urge to hit something made her hands itch. “If you think this little game is going to break me, you’re wrong. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“This little game has only begun, pixie.”

The voice was male and raspy and laced with evil intent, but not one she immediately recognized. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but after years of hunting bad guys for the Collectors, they all started to sound alike. A grinding noise, like the chain drive on an old garage door, came from the side of the cell. She turned to see the metal wall rising up into the ceiling, which had to be fifteen feet high.

She crouched down, thinking she might be able to roll under the wall and escape, but there were more bars on the other side of the rising wall.

And then she realized there was someone else over there. Another prisoner. Held in another cell just like hers. A man. A big man. He lay on his side, facing away from her so that she couldn’t see what he looked like. His long hair was tied back, and he was either unconscious or dead because he wasn’t moving.

“Hey,” she shouted. “Are you okay over there?” Her nostrils flared. She knew that dark, spicy scent. Vampire. New fear filled her. What did her captor have planned?

The metal wall slammed back down, and the lights went out again, plunging her into darkness once more. She uncrossed her arms to flip two birds in the direction of her captor’s viewing window. Knowing she wasn’t alone gave her both hope and a little fear. If her captor intended to pit her against the man in the next cell…she took a breath. There was a chance she could defeat a vampire, but not a big chance. All depended on how old and how well fed the vampire was.

A soft hiss filtered through the silence. The scent of honeyed almonds followed. Panic trickled into her gut. The same potion that had been used on her in the car. She pulled her tank top over her nose and mouth and retreated to the far corner, but it was no use.

Her sense of balance disappeared as her body went limp. She used the bars to get down on the floor without falling, then curled into a fetal position. There was no way to fight being drugged, no way to stop breathing. In that respect, the vampire had an advantage. Seconds ticked by, each one increasing her drowsiness. Then her struggle was over and she passed out.

Gage’s mouth tasted like he’d been sucking on steel wool. The metallic sourness of whatever he’d been drugged with lingered, making him want to retch. He swallowed instead. He’d tasted worse.

He blinked a few times, but it didn’t help his vision. Even vampire eyes needed a little light, and wherever he was had none. He pushed to a sitting position as his stomach growled. The tainted blood had done nothing to assuage his thirst.

“Ernie, you little prick. If you’re out there and I catch you, I’m going to skin your mangy coyote hide. To start with.”

His words bounced around the space, giving him a rough idea of the size of the place he was being held in. Not large, but not a closet either. He got to his feet, shaking his muscles to loosen them and feeling around with his arms out to see if he could find walls. He did. Bars.

He cursed under his breath and grabbed hold of them. The bars were thick, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He pulled, leaning into the effort. The bars creaked and began to move. With a nod of satisfaction, he applied himself to the task.

Lights flipped on, making him squint. He was completely surrounded by bars with about fifteen feet of space around them except on one side where the bars abutted a steel wall. He had about fifteen feet to the ceiling.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, vampire.”

The man’s voice came out of nowhere, but the lights in front of Gage surrounded a large pane of glass. His eyes adjusted to the brightness, and he could just make out a shape behind the smoked glass. Cameras hung from the ceiling. Someone was watching him. Orchestrating this.

He snarled at the figure, “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t come through these bars and tear you apart.” There was a door on the opposite side of his cell. That had to be a way to get to whoever was behind this.

Low, sinister laughing was soon replaced by the harsh grind of metal against metal. The steel wall on the other side of the bars was moving. Gage took a step back, keeping his hands fisted but his body loose and ready to fight.

As the metal rose, his defensive posture dropped. Another cell sat opposite his, separated now by only the wall of bars. A woman lay curled on the hard concrete. His intended meal? There was a certain kind of human that got off on watching vampires feed, but if his captor thought he was going to put on a show, the creep had another—

Gage muttered a curse as he saw the woman more clearly. A chill swept him. Her blond hair and curvy form were as familiar to him as the night was dark.

He walked to the bars, grasped them and leaned his forehead against the only thing keeping him from the one person who’d ever meant anything to him. “Minka,” he whispered.

She didn’t move.

“That’s right, vampire,” the voice came again. “Your precious pixie.”

Rage flowed through Gage like molten lava, burning his control to ashes. He bared his fangs and snarled, “Let her go. You have me. I’m enough.”

The voice laughed. “You’re in no position to tell me what to do.”

Gage turned toward the window. The shadowy figure was still there. “Who are you? What do you want from us?” He glanced at Minka. “Why isn’t she moving? What did you do to her?”

“Your concern is touching.” The voice scratched at Gage’s memories with the vague familiarity of a recurring nightmare, but Gage couldn’t place it. He listened more closely as the man continued, “As for who I am and what I want from you…you’ll figure it out in time.”

Gage glared at whoever was in the booth. “Tell me now.”

“So many demands. That’s just like you, vampire. Thinking the world owes you something. It doesn’t. In fact, you’re here to pay a debt. A debt you owe to me.”

“Screw you. I don’t owe you jack.” Gage grabbed the bars separating his cell from Minka’s and yanked hard. They didn’t move like the others had.

“Escape if you wish, vampire, but there will be consequences.”

Gage kept his hands on the bars, but stopped pulling on them. “Such as?”

A new sound filled the space. A soft whirring from overhead. Gage looked up to see the ceiling of both cells split open and two new panels drop down. The one above him was covered in spotlights. The one above Minka held hundreds of bells.

Bells. The clanging of bells could kill a pixie. Without closer examination, he knew the spotlights above him weren’t ordinary bulbs.

The man’s voice returned. “Of course, if you want to escape, who am I to stop you?”

Gage took his hands off the bars. “So I can fry myself? I think not.”

“Oh, now, that wouldn’t be very sporting, would it? Those lights won’t turn on if you try to escape.”

“And I should believe you why?”

“Because that’s not the consequence.”

“What is?”

“The bells.”

Gage looked toward Minka’s ceiling, his stomach pitching with the thought of what he might have caused.

“That’s right, vampire. You escape, those bells start ringing like it’s church on Sunday. Bells make the prettiest sounds, don’t they? And if she tries to escape, those shiny UV bulbs above you come glaring on. Think of a cloudless day on the sunniest beach imaginable, and you’ll be in the ballpark.”

“Bastard.”

Soft chuckling answered him. “You be sure to fill her in when she wakes up.”

The lights around the glass went out, but two dim banks of fluorescents flickered on, washing the space in a sickly green. Tiny red lights on the cameras indicated they were active, but at least the figure behind the glass disappeared. Very distantly, Gage heard a door close.

Their captor might be leaving them alone, but he’d still be monitoring them with the cameras. What kind of sicko was this guy? Someone who thought they owed him a debt. That didn’t help.

Gage crouched by the wall of bars that separated him from Minka. He got as close as he could. Close enough to inhale the sugary-sweet scent of her. His jaw tensed, but the clutch of longing in his chest overrode that. “Minka, wake up. Minka.”

She shifted and turned onto her back. Her lids rose slowly, and she blinked a few times like she was trying to focus. She scrubbed a hand across her face. “Where am I?”

“I have no idea.” Since he’d last seen her two years ago, she’d only gotten more beautiful. The ache in his chest got worse. Damn, he’d missed her.

She twisted at the sound of his voice, her gaze pinning him. Her eyes rounded slightly in recognition, then narrowed again as a storm of emotions clouded her gaze. “Oh, I know where I am now.”

“Where?” Gage asked.

She rolled away from him. “Hell.”

Gage Hudson. She’d never have imagined in a million years that he was the vampire on the other side of the cell. Maybe because she’d done her best to erase him from her thoughts. Maybe because his hair was longer now. Maybe because of the drugs that had sedated her. Yeah, the drugs. That was good.

Whatever the reason, there was no getting past the fact that she was going to have to deal with him now. Same coal-black hair, same ice-blue eyes, same incredible body. No reason to think his ability to betray her was any different. She pushed to a sitting position. That lying, manipulative, stupidly gorgeous piece of undead—

“Minka.”

She spun back around. “If you’re the reason I’m in here, I’m going to kill you myself. What are you doing in here anyway? I was drugged. What’s your excuse?”

“Same. Tainted blood.” He frowned. “Listen, do me a favor and don’t try to escape.”

She got to her feet. Boy, he had nerve. “You’re the last person who should be asking me for favors. Give me one good reason why I should even listen to you.”

“Because I’d like both of us to get out alive.” He stood, giving her a chance to inspect all six feet, five inches of him and remember the days she used to climb him like a tree.

No.

He looked exactly the same as the last time she’d seen him. Handsome. Dangerous. And hot enough to melt butter. Didn’t stop her from wanting to kick him right in the baby maker. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He pointed up.

She tipped her head back. Her belly contracted in fear. “Bells,” she whispered. “Are you telling me that if I try to escape, those bells will start to ring?”

“No,” he answered. The serious glint in his eyes meant he was telling the truth. “They’ll ring if I try to escape. If you make a break for it, the UV lights over my head get switched on.”

Her gaze shifted to his ceiling. “There was a time when I wouldn’t have given a second thought to toasting you to a crisp.” She made eye contact with him again.

“But that time has passed?” Hope permeated his words.

She waited longer than necessary to respond. She slouched one shoulder. “Maybe.”

“Minka, I know you’re mad at me—”

“The best way to keep me from trying to escape would be you shutting up.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Just because I’m trapped here with you doesn’t mean you’re getting some kind of second chance with me. You betrayed me. Once was enough. This”—she wiggled her finger between them—“is just a massive inconvenience. Not a magical twist of fate. Get it?”

The muscles in his jaw twitched. She’d hit a nerve. Good. “You never let me explain what happened.”

“What’s to explain? You used information I gave you in confidentiality, a Collection failed and I paid for it. End of story. Unless you want to add the epilogue where you disappeared without saying good-bye.”

Lines of frustration bracketed his mouth. “You have to know it wasn’t my intention that you take the blame for the failed Collection.”

She stared, the old anger at him becoming fresh again. “What did you think would happen?” She threw her hands up and paced away from him. “I got demoted. Hard.”

“I know.” His voice was quieter. “I’m sorry.”

“You should have thought about that sooner.” She stood near the far side of the cell. She was still deeply hurt by what he’d done, but she couldn’t quite find the same seething amount of rage she’d once had toward him. Two years of separation had taken some of the bite out of it. Didn’t mean she forgave him, though. He’d done her wrong in a big way. “You cost me a directorship.” And a future. With him. She swallowed down the emotion clogging her throat and picked a flake of metal off one of the bars. “I’m back in the field now.”

“You excel at field work.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I want to do it for the rest of my life.” She sighed and leaned her head against the bars. Being angry at him wasn’t going to get them out of here. “Did that information lead you where you thought? Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No.”

She slanted her eyes at him. “So you threw it all away for nothing, huh?”

His jaw popped to one side before he turned away. “We should be working on a way out of here.”

Change the subject. Just like always. But she let it be. No point in reopening those old wounds any more than they already had been. She imagined Gage had a new woman in his life by now, which was fine with Minka. Let him be someone else’s problem. “Agreed. Do you have any idea who this guy is?”

“No.” Gage stared at the lights above him. “He said we owe him a debt and that we’re here to pay it back.”

“We?”

“His words.” Gage moved to the side of his cell and climbed the bars like she’d done earlier, but of course, with his reach and strength, he made it look like cake. He zipped up to the ceiling, then hung on with one hand and reached out toward the bulbs with the other.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing if I can unscrew them.”

She rolled her eyes. “If only more things could be fixed that way.”

He shot her a look, then shook his head and went back to work. His fingers gently clasped the closest bulb. A sizzling sound cut the air. He hissed out a curse, his face freezing into a grimace as his body went taut. Sparks flew off the bulb. He convulsed once and fell, landing in a heap on the cell floor.

“Gage.” She rushed to the bars, shoving her arms through but not able to reach him. “What the hell? Are you all right?”

Wisps of smoke drifted off him, and his hands were covered in burns. He groaned once, and his eyes stayed closed. His mouth barely opened, but she still heard the single word that he managed to mutter. “No.”

For the second time since he’d become a pawn in this strange game, the taste in Gage’s mouth made him want to gag. The ashy sweetness of burnt flesh coated his tongue to the point he wanted to spit, but he was in too much pain to do anything but lie on the floor. He should have guessed the bulbs had been rigged. The electricity that had passed through him the moment he’d touched the bulb had set him on fire internally. His entire body burned as though he’d made an attempt at sunbathing. Although some of that pain now was his body healing. He groaned and tried to sit up.

“Lie still, you moron.”

Minka was as caring as ever. He almost laughed. Her bluntness was something he’d always loved about her. Hard to get away with anything around her, and he’d liked that. Sure, it meant he’d had to try a little harder, constantly bring his A game, but he was okay with that. Especially when the reward was so great. Unlike most people he encountered, his vampire charm didn’t seem to matter one bit to her. If Minka liked something, she really liked it. No lies, no games, no guile. She went all in. Which is why he’d hurt her so much. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

“Who else would I be?” She grunted, a sound that usually indicated she thought something was stupid. “You, on the other hand, have gotten weirder.” She took a deep breath. “You look like you hurt.”

“I do.”

“Are you okay?”

“My insides feel charred, but other than that…no, not really. But I will be. I’m going to need at least an hour or so to heal.” Which was only going to increase his already growing need for blood. Damn it. He turned his head enough to see her. The cool concrete felt good against his face.

She sat on the other side of the bars, looking a little less defiant than before he’d gotten zapped. “How long do you think we’ve been here?” she asked.

“I don’t know which one of us got here first, but I’d say I’ve been here half a day.” Based on how his blood need was growing. “Maybe longer.”

She peered at him oddly. “What are you doing back in Vegas anyway? Did you quit Gotham City Collectors?”

“No. I like the agency there. Good people. Plenty of work. And it’s my hometown.”

“So why Vegas?”

He was reluctant to tell her only because he knew she wasn’t going to like it. “I got a lead that someone I’ve been searching for is here.”

“Is this related to what you did to me?”

“Yes.”

As if on cue, she let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re never going to let that go, are you? No matter what it costs you.”

“I can’t let it go.”

She shook her head. “Just like you can’t explain it to me?”

“Just like that.” She didn’t know the details, but it had to be that way. He couldn’t jeopardize his position as a Collector. If their bosses knew he’d become a Collector to access their extensive databases and use their resources to track down Blackwell, they never would have hired him. He’d tried for years to find Blackwell with no luck. Becoming a Collector had at least given him some leads. And if the GCC found out now that he’d been using agency resources for his own agenda, he was pretty sure that would get him the kind of disciplinary action that would put an end to his quest. “It’s already cost me too much.”

“You can say that again.”

In that moment, he realized she was talking about them. He’d been talking about his search to find his brother’s killer. Did Minka still love him? The tiniest spark of possibility flared inside him. He watched her face, hoping for a reaction that might confirm his suspicions. “We were good together, you and I.”

“Don’t.” She turned her head and refused to meet his eyes.

“Don’t what?”

“Play on my sympathies. For one, they don’t exist. And it’s unfair to dredge all this up when I’m trapped here with you.”

“When you can’t walk away from me, you mean.”

She got up and went to the far side of her cell, doing exactly what he’d just said. “You should try to sleep. You’ll heal faster that way.”

“And you should talk this out with me. Maybe you’d heal faster that way, too.”

She glared at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You obviously haven’t gotten over what happened. And I don’t blame you. I hurt you. I was wrong. But why you won’t let me explain is—”

She stormed back to his side of the bars. “You disappeared on me. Then I find out you betrayed me. You…you…” Her hands clenched, and she exhaled a ragged breath. “You broke my heart. And my life.” Her eyes glistened. “And left me to pick up the pieces.”

“Sweetheart—”

“No. I’m not your sweetheart, your baby, your honey, your love. I’m not your anything.”

“Then what am I to you?” He already regretted the question, knowing her answer wasn’t going to be something he’d like.

“You’re a bad memory. A part of my past I’d like to forget.” Her lip curled. “A mistake I wish I’d never made.”

The pain in his eyes cut her to the bone. She turned away to hide her face. She didn’t want him to see what a bad liar she was. Blast it all, she’d tried to forget about him. But how did you forget about the love of your life?

He was mercifully quiet. Maybe she’d hurt him badly enough that he’d stop giving her those big mournful eyes that made her want to chew through the bars and forgive him in a very physical way. No. That was not going to happen. Not until he could explain why he’d betrayed her that way. Not until he told her who he was chasing and why. She deserved the full truth.

And it had better be good.

She stayed quiet and so did Gage. He needed to heal, so that was good. They’d have a better chance of breaking out if he was in top form. She tipped her head back against the bars and closed her eyes. Sleep teased at the edges of her consciousness, but the situation wouldn’t let her relax enough to really drift off.

They stayed like that for at least an hour. Maybe two. Then Gage’s whisper broke the silence. “He’s back.”

The lights surrounding the glass panel flared to life. She shielded her eyes and looked at Gage. The burned patches of skin were gone. “How did you know?”

He turned so his back was to the glass and the cameras and mouthed, “I can hear him.”

She nodded in understanding.

“I see you’re both still alive,” their captor’s voice boomed. “How very disappointing.”

She sneered at the glass. “If that’s what you’re waiting for, you’re going to wait a long time.”

“We’ll see.” The bright lights flicked off again, leaving them awash in the dim fluorescents.

The door to the right of the glass opened, and a small bot wheeled through. It carried a covered rectangular tray. The mechanical whir of its track wheels stopped as it came to a halt in front of Minka’s cell. A slim antenna shot out, unlocked something, then opened a narrow section of bars at floor level. It slipped the tray through, relocked the bars, spun a hundred eighty degrees and went back through the door. The aroma of food was unmistakable.

She waited until the door closed before she spoke. “What do you think that is?”

Gage sniffed. “Judging by the smell, I’d say your dinner.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can smell that it’s food. I meant do you think it’s some kind of trick?”

He shrugged. “In here? Probably.”

Her stomach growled on cue. She looked up at the glass. “I’m not eating this.”

Their captor’s voice came through loud and clear. “It’s not poisoned. That wouldn’t be very sporting of me, now would it?”

The mike clicked off, and she shifted her gaze to Gage. “I’m not eating it.”

“It doesn’t smell poisoned.”

“And the tainted blood you drank, how did that smell?”

“Point taken.”

Her stomach growled again. “You don’t have any food on you, do you?”

He made a face at her. “Do I look like I brought a sack lunch?”

She took a deep breath, which was a bad idea, because that only made very clear what she was turning down. Pizza. She groaned. “I think I smell pepperoni. Why does it have to be pepperoni?”

“You want me to eat a bite?” Gage offered. He notched his shoulder against the bars, lounging there like he didn’t have a care in the world. “It won’t kill me and then at least you’ll know if it’s safe. You should eat if you can. Keep your strength up.”

She nodded. His caring was nice, but he’d always been smooth that way. Hard to hate. “That’s a good idea.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Besides, I’ve had a fantasy about seeing you die, so this could kill two birds with one stone.”

Twisting, he grabbed the bars above his head and leaned in, his back flaring out like a superhero’s cape. “You don’t really mean that.” His gaze turned wicked. “Except for the fantasies part. But I think they’ve been of a very different nature.”

She crossed her arms as a defense against the heat his words sparked in her. “You’re still just as full of yourself, I see.”

He waggled his brows. “I bet you’d like to be full of—”

“How you can even think that way when we’re being held prisoner is beyond me.” But then he always had been rather demonstrative in his affections. She’d loved that about him, actually. The way he didn’t care who was watching. The way his hand always found hers. The way he wanted her all the time.

“It’s the company.” His gaze clung to her no matter what she did.

He was being blatant about his desire for her. Acting like he had in the old days. It was entirely unsettling. “Are you going to taste this pizza for me or not?”

“Happy to. You want to feed me through the bars? Not like I can reach it.”

She bent down and grabbed the tray. Pain shot through her fingers, and she hissed as she dropped it. The tray clattered to the ground. Her fingers were sliced and bleeding. “What the hell?”

“What happened?”

She studied her fingers. “I don’t know. The tray cut me. Damn it, that hurts. And they’re not healing like they should.” Blood dripped on the floor. “He must have put something on the edges of the tray to slow my ability to heal. An anticoagulant.”

A soft growl lifted her head. Gage’s eyes were glued to her wounds. and his mouth was open, revealing his fangs. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the smell of the blood.

She walked as far back as she could, not out of fear, but to give him some distance and a chance to get himself under control. “Snap out of it, Gage.”

He pulled at the bars, his eyes feral with hunger.

Laughter came through the speakers. “Those bars won’t bend like the others, vampire. They’re laced with silver. You want her, you’ll have to go out through the bars you can bend. Think you can get to her before the bells do?”

She’d never wanted to hurt someone so badly in her life. And she didn’t even know who the guy was. “Chill, Gage. He did this to me so you’d react exactly like that.”

Gage pushed away from the bars, but held on to them, his gaze seemingly unable to focus on anything but her bleeding hands. “I know,” he ground out.

“How long has it been since you’ve fed?”

“A couple days.” He closed his eyes and inhaled again.

“Which has been too long by the looks of you.” She lowered her voice. “Get hold of yourself. You’re giving him what he wants. Don’t lose it. Not here. Not like this. Not in front of him.”

He leaned into the bars again, tipping his head down, and nodded slightly.

The cuts on her fingers were finally closing up. If vampires had a weakness, it was blood. The fact that their captor was hoping to exploit that took her rage to a new level. Despite everything that had happened between her and Gage, the urge to protect him still lived in her. She ground her back teeth together in frustration. To think that after all this time and all Gage had done, he still had his hooks in her.

Maybe fangs would be a better word. She leaned on the bars behind her, the memory of the first time he’d bitten her causing her body to go weak. He’d warned her it would be an intimate act. He’d been right. Even now her body tightened at the memory of the way he’d pierced her skin and the sensation that had shot through her. He’d set her on fire. Lit every nerve ending with need. Turned her boneless in his arms.

She sank to the floor of the cell, thankful for the cold of the concrete. The last of the wounds closed. She held her hands up. “I’m not bleeding anymore.”

He nodded but didn’t look at her, instead put his back to the bars and slid down to sit the same way she had. He put his head against his knees and went very still.

She knew that stillness. It was a vampire thing. They could go immobile like a statue. It was a state of rest for most. For Gage, it had always been a way to shut down and retract from the world around him. His own kind of escape.

She understood why he was doing it, but for the first time since she’d realized he was being held captive along with her, she felt alone.

Losing control was unacceptable. Gage pulled into himself and refocused. He’d gone longer—much longer—without feeding. But his reaction to Minka’s cut hands wasn’t about his need for blood as much as it was about his need for her. Whoever their captor was, he had to have known that. Probably had counted on it. Who was this guy?

Gage studied the mental file he kept on all his past Collections. He separated out the ones he and Minka had done together. Sorting through them gave him some distance from the riot her blood had caused in his brain and allowed him a chance to center himself.

“Hey.” The word was soft and plaintive and right beside him. Impossible to ignore.

He lifted his head. The scent of her blood lingered, sweet as night-blooming jasmine. He swallowed. “Hey.”

“You all right?”

She’d never liked when he shut down. “Yeah.”

“My fingers are healed.”

He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t take the pain right now. “Good.” The warmth of her body sank into his. She was on his left side. As close as she could get with the bars between them.

“We need to figure out who this guy is.”

He nodded. “Agreed.”

“You have any ideas?”

He’d never been so happy to have her change the subject. “Not immediately. We did a lot of Collections together.”

“Doesn’t make it easy, does it?”

“No.” He tipped his head against the bars. She was so close. He reached a hand back and looped a strand of her hair around his finger, the gold silk tying him to a whole new batch of memories.

She didn’t pull away. “The debt thing doesn’t help. I’m sure everyone we Collected thinks we owe them.”

“Right. But everyone we Collected is either dead or in prison.”

She sighed. “Right.” She turned to look at him through the bars, stripping her hair out of his grasp. “Except maybe they’re not.”

He twisted to face her better. “Who?”

She glanced once at the glass, then lowered her voice even further. “Remember that crazy chemist? He was trying to invent a serum that would turn everyone into a supernatural?”

“You mean the Alchemist? What was his name? Frank something?”

“Franz Gruder.” She nodded, eyes wide. “And yes, I mean him.”

Gage thought back to that night. “I remember that Collection. We took down his lab, and he caused an explosion in the fight. The place went up like a tinderbox. He and his wife died in the fire.”

“Not exactly.” Minka’s mouth thinned to a hard line. “We had some intel about six months ago that he’d resurfaced in Phoenix. We pulled all the evidence and found out the male corpse’s DNA had been manipulated. The Alchemist had only made it seem like he’d died in that fire.”

“And the wife?”

Minka frowned. “The body of the female definitely belonged to her.”

“It’s got to be him, then.”

She wrapped her fingers around the bar between them. “And that’s the debt we owe him. His wife’s life. It all fits. Those potions that he used to drug us? That’s his signature.”

Gage swore. “He definitely wants us dead.”

“Even better if we do it to each other.”

Gage sighed. “I don’t think he cares so much if you kill me. He’d probably rather do that himself. What he really wants is for me to lose you. To lose the woman I love. Just like he did.”

There was protest in her eyes, but she said nothing, just turned her face away from him again to rest the back of her head on the bars.

“I didn’t almost lose control earlier because I’m hungry.” The almost was important.

She looked at him again. “Yes, you did. I saw you.”

“Yes, I’m hungry,” he said quietly. “But it wasn’t the blood. It was your blood. It was you.”

She stayed quiet.

“I know what you taste like.” The velvet of her skin. The way she gave herself over to him completely. The way she mewled in pleasure when he took her. He’d memorized the map of her body, but the only place he’d been able to visit it these last two years was in his dreams. He wanted her back with the kind of desperation that scared him. And nothing scared him. “My hunger for blood right now is nothing compared to my hunger for you.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “Please don’t do this, Gage. It took me a long time to get over you.”

Her words sounded like a lie, but he let it go.

“I can’t go through that kind of pain again.” She raised her head. “I won’t. Not with a man who can’t be completely honest with me.”

“I understand.” He did and he didn’t. Maybe once he found Blackwell and got the answers he needed, he’d find a way to earn her forgiveness. To win back her trust. “Someday I hope to be able to explain everything to you. Maybe then…we can give things another shot.”

“Maybe,” she whispered.

The lights around the glass cut out. The fluorescents stayed off, leaving them in darkness.

She shifted and sighed.

“Get some sleep if you can.” If only he could hold her.

“I might try.”

He heard her shift position as she lay down. He took comfort in the fact that she stayed near him and didn’t move away. He sensed her heat signature with his hand, then lay down parallel to her and stuck his arm between the bars. “Put your head on my arm.”

The argument he expected never came. Instead, she wrapped her hands around his forearm and settled her head on his bicep. A few minutes passed, and her breathing evened out.

He lifted a strand of her hair to his nose and let her sweetness invade his senses. He’d missed her perfume. Hell, he’d missed everything about her. He smiled. She’d said maybe. There might be a chance for them yet.

His smile faded. If he could get them out of here alive.

He lay flat on the floor and stared into the dark. There had to be a way out of this in which both of them survived. What were the Alchemist’s weaknesses? He thought back to that job and the briefing they’d had going in. There had to be something they could use, something that would give them the advantage.

He jerked upright at the sound of laughter and realized he’d drifted off. Still pitch black, but the weight of Minka was gone from his arm. He couldn’t sense her by her body heat either. She must have moved away from him. The sluggishness lingering in his system meant it was daylight out. There was no other reason he would have succumbed to the need to sleep. He scraped a hand over his face as his body came to life with the urgent need for blood. He rolled his shoulders, stretching his muscles. How long before his hunger for blood became his weakness? The Alchemist knew Gage could only go so long before losing himself to the dark need that defined his existence. No doubt the man was planning on it.

The laughter filled the room again. Not the Alchemist’s, not with those dulcet tones and light, clear notes.

“Minka?”

She laughed again. This time the sound was rounded and drawn out. Like she was intoxicated.

“About time you woke up, vampire.” The Alchemist’s sneer was audible in his words. “The pixie’s been waiting for you.”

The lights flared on, bright and glaring. Gage squinted, but only for a moment. On the far side of the cell, Minka was propped lazily against the bars. Her smile was unnaturally bright, her eyes glassy. And in one hand, she held a gleaming blade. She waved it at him. “Hiya, Gage.” Her smile went lopsided, and her gaze, for a moment, locked on to him. “Damn, you’re pretty.”

“Hi, Minka.” This wasn’t like her at all. She looked drunk. And where had she gotten that blade? “Why don’t you put the knife down and come over here and talk to me?” Gage inhaled, and an odd smell assailed his nostrils. He grimaced, glad that breathing wasn’t a requirement for him.

But, of course, it was for Minka. Gage glanced at the vents. Which was how the Alchemist had drugged her. His body wanted to go back to sleep, but his mind knew Minka needed him.

She got to her feet slowly, pulling herself up with the bars. “It’s hot in here.” She struggled with her leather jacket, leaning heavily against the cell wall.

The room seemed the same temperature it had been since they’d arrived. Had to be whatever was in her system. “Put the knife down. You’ll be able to get your jacket off a lot easier that way.” What the hell was the Alchemist up to now?

“Yeah,” she slurred. “Good idea.” She tried unsuccessfully to put the knife in her pocket, almost cutting herself in the process.

Gage stuck his hands through the bars. “Hey, why don’t you let me hold it for you?”

She stopped to look at him. Her eyes narrowed. “No. I’m not giving you anything of mine again.”

Whatever the Alchemist had given her seemed to be heightening her true feelings, pushing them to extremes. Gage pulled his hands back and held them up. “That’s cool, too.”

She set the knife on the floor, then continued to struggle with her jacket, finally yanking it off and dropping it to the ground. With one hand on the bars, she leaned over and grabbed the blade.

“Better?”

“Kinda.” She slouched against the bars. “Still feel hot.”

She was down to a tank top and jeans, both of which clung to her. If she ditched either of those…maybe that was the Alchemist’s play. Get Gage all hot and bothered at Minka’s expense. That wouldn’t explain the knife, though. Gage had a pretty good idea of where that fit in. He looked toward the glass and snarled at the dim figure hiding behind it.

Minka let out a loud exhale, pulling Gage’s attention back to her. She fanned herself with her empty hand. “It’s like I’m hot on the inside.”

“He drugged you, Minka.”

Her eyes widened only slightly. “Who?”

“The man behind the glass.” No reason for the Alchemist to know they were on to his identity yet.

“Drugged me how?” Her lids looked heavy. Maybe she’d fall asleep, and the drug would work its way out of her system.

“I’m guessing he put something in the air.” He nodded at the vents in the ceiling. “You have to breathe it. I don’t.”

“Bastard,” she muttered.

“Exactly.”

She waved the knife at the glass. “Bastard,” she yelled louder.

“That’s right.” She seemed to be coming out of her stupor a little.

A shushing sound turned his head. A thin mist filtered through the vents. No doubt more drugs. “Enough,” Gage shouted. Rage made his muscles taut and forced any remaining urge to sleep from his system. “Leave her alone. You’ve got me. Leave her alone.”

The Alchemist’s laughter answered him. “I have no plans to touch her. Yet.”

Minka moaned. Gage faced her, the Alchemist’s threat ringing in his ears. “Are you okay? What’s that stuff doing to you?”

She slid down the bars and sprawled on the floor. “I’m so hot, baby.”

Alarms went off in Gage’s head. Had the Alchemist just dosed her with something new? “Fight it, Minka. Whatever he’s doing to you, fight it. You’re stronger than this.”

She turned over and got on her hands and knees. With the blade still gripped in her fist, she crawled toward him. “I know what I need.”

“No, Minka. Get a hold of yourself.” He backed away from the bars. The last time he’d seen that look in her eyes, she’d kept him in bed for almost two days.

She grinned with a kind of crazed, I-don’t-care smile that chilled him. The Alchemist would pay for this. That much Gage knew.

She reached the bars that separated them and stood. She stuck her bottom lip out. “Don’t you want me, Gage?”

“Minka. You’re not yourself right now.”

She gyrated against the bars. “C’mon, baby. Remember how it used to be?”

Yeah, he remembered. Every night. As he lay in his bed alone. “It can be that way again, but not now. Not here.”

She leaned into the bars, anger flashing in her eyes. “Are you rejecting me?”

“No, no—”

“Then kiss me.” She pressed her face against the bars and puckered up.

As much as he wanted to, he didn’t want it like this. “You’re not yourself, sweetheart.” He went to her, reached through the bars and caressed her shoulder. The silk of her skin beneath his hand made his body tighten. “You don’t want me to do this. Trust me.”

She jerked back. “You want me. You know you do.”

“I don’t deny that. But. Not. This. Way.”

She flipped the knife in her fingers, twirling it like a Vegas act. The gleam in her eyes was wild. Dangerous. “I know how to make you do what I want.”

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, don’t.”

With a snort of rebellion, she took the knife by the handle and drew it over her palm. Red welled up, glistening and bright.

The scent punched him in the gut, yanked his fangs down and sent his senses reeling. He opened his mouth, drawing in the sweet, metallic perfume of her, unable to resist. His control, already thin, teetered on the edge of a deep, dark abyss.

“Minka, don’t.” His voice came out a growl, heavy with desire.

She smiled and lifted her hand to him as she swayed closer to the bars. “Don’t you want a taste?”

Hell yes. He backed up. His insides stormed with need. Chaos ruled his head. Bite her. Take her. Feed. He swallowed. He needed blood. It would make him stronger. Able to fight the Alchemist. No. He threw his head back and growled in frustration. “No.”

“I think you do, vampire,” the Alchemist chimed in.

Gage pointed at the window separating them. “What you need to think about is how I’m going to kill you once I’m out of here.”

The Alchemist laughed. “We both know that’s an empty threat. Now do as the pixie wants. Drain her dry.”

That the Alchemist wanted him in such a state that he’d drain Minka to the point of death sobered Gage a bit. “That’s never going to happen.” He found a shred of control and retreated to the far side of the cell, putting as much distance as possible between him and Minka. The cut she’d made was nearly closed, giving him some respite.

“I say it will, vampire. Show him, pixie. Show him what he’s missing.”

Minka nodded and drew the blade across her palm again, opening the wound anew. Fresh blood spilled forth. It sang to him with a siren song that shredded his resolve. He needed her. Needed her blood. Her body. Her heart. The war within him almost brought him to his knees.

The Alchemist’s laughter was drowned out by a screeching noise that ricocheted through the space.

The bars keeping Gage from Minka were slowly rising into the ceiling. What little control he had left vanished. The beast in him rose up, hungry, wanting. The hunger became everything. It possessed his mind, controlled his body and wiped away any rational thought left within him.

More vapor leaked from the vents, and on the other side of those disappearing bars, Minka lost her glassy-eyed, doped-up look. She blinked a few times and rubbed at her forehead.

Gage barely registered that the woman he loved was coming out of her drug-induced state, but it was too late. The hunger had won. He crouched, ready to lunge as soon as the bars cleared enough space.

Just a few more inches, and the hunger would finally be satisfied.

She leveled the blade at him as she backed up, the confusion on her face turning to fear. “Don’t, Gage. Don’t make me do something I’ll regret.”

More laughter from the Alchemist.

Then the lights went off.

Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump.

Despite the screech of metal, the sound of her pounding heart filled Minka’s ears. Gage had been this strung out with the need for blood once before. As he did then, he reminded her of a junkie. The only difference was, he hadn’t brought it on himself. The blood lust was just something that happened to his kind if they went too long without feeding. Seeing him succumb to the darkest side of himself once was enough. She’d never let him get that way again after they’d gotten together.

For the briefest of moments, she wondered who was fulfilling that need for him now, but keeping herself alive was a bigger priority than guessing who was in his bed.

She held the knife in front of her. It wouldn’t kill him unless she got a direct hit to the heart, but it would buy her some time.

Maybe.

In the dark like this, his senses were better than hers, but that didn’t mean she was going to go without a fight. The bars stopped rising, and an eerie stillness settled over the space. Her body was a hair trigger, alert for the impending attack.

His boots made a soft, gravelly sound as he shifted position on the concrete.

The soft rush of moving air followed. He’d launched toward her. She shifted to the right as far and as fast as possible. He was quicker than she was, but pixies weren’t slow and she’d anticipated well.

He struck the bars with a thud and yowled in disappointment. “Come here, Minka.”

“No.” There was no point in keeping quiet. He could hear her pulse thumping away, sense the warmth of her body. She might as well have glowed in the dark. And he knew she had the knife. The only other weapons she had against him were personal ones. Time to play dirty. “Gage,” she said in her sweetest, most sincere voice. “Do you still love me?”

Apparently, that got the attention of their captor. One of the dim fluorescents flickered to half-life with a low hum. It was enough for her to see by. Enough that their captor didn’t have to rely on the power of his night-vision cameras.

Gage stalked toward her, a hulking mass of thirst and need, eyes wild, fangs on full display. He lifted a hand. “Come here, Minka. Now.”

She retreated, knife out, hope dwindling. She repeated her question, drawing the words out with extra emphasis. He could kill her if he attacked her in this state. “Do you love me? You used to. You used to say you’d never loved anyone the way you loved me.”

He slowed.

The emotional wound was raw and open, and the words she had wanted to say for so long came pouring out. “You used to love me so much I thought the happiness we shared had to be unique to us alone. I couldn’t imagine any woman could be loved any more than you loved me. I couldn’t imagine”—she swallowed against the pain in her chest—“spending the rest of my life with anyone else.”

He stopped. “I…” The wildness in his eyes faded.

“Do you still feel any of that, Gage?” She found a little of the old anger. Enough to keep herself from melting down in front of him. “Or was your love for me just a show? Just a game to get what you wanted?”

“No.” He sank to his knees and put one hand on the floor in front of him, bracing himself. His head dropped. “It wasn’t a show.”

She could sense the fight going out of him as he regained control. She gave him a minute, then quietly asked, “Are you back?”

He nodded. “I am.” His words were barely audible, but the pain came through loud and clear.

She went down to her knees as close to him as she dared, hoping that his body would hide her from the cameras. If their captor could read lips, whispering wasn’t going to help. “You need to feed.”

His head stayed down. “I know. But…no.” He sighed.

“You’re worried you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

“Yes.” He turned his head but still didn’t look at her. “The Alchemist knows what he’s doing, pushing me to the edge like this.”

“You’ve fed from me many times. You’ve never had an issue taking too much.”

He didn’t answer.

“Look at me, Gage.”

He lifted his head.

She inched closer, keeping her voice as low as possible. “You can do this. You have to. We have no hope of getting out of here if you’re not in top form. Besides, I think I have a plan to draw our captor out.”

New life shone in his eyes. “Does this mean you trust me?”

She hesitated. Lying wasn’t going to help either of them. “In the short term, yes. Beyond getting out of here? No.”

He nodded, his disappointment palpable. “I do, you know.”

She squinted. “Do what?”

“Love you. I never stopped.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. The wound she’d opened to talk him down throbbed.

As if sensing her discomfort, he let the moment drop. “What’s your plan?”

She forced away the prickly sensation his confession had caused and focused on the now. “First, we get you fed and in full control again. But we have to be sly about it. We can’t let the Alchemist know. You’ve got to keep up the ruse that you’re starving and on the verge of going full beast.”

Gage nodded slowly. “I see where you’re headed. I think.”

She scooted closer. A centimeter separated their knees. “Once you’re ready, we stage a scene. Make it look like you’re attacking me, draining me to death, just like he wants. That’s got to draw him out, don’t you think?”

“It’s what he wants. It should work. But won’t he wonder why I’m not attacking you now?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Let him think I’ve talked you down.”

“Which you did.”

“So you feed now, but we keep it secret so that all he knows is that you were able to regain control over your hunger one last time.”

“Understood.” He sighed softly. “There will have to be blood during this mock attack.”

“I know.” She made a whatever face. “You’ll have to find a way to lure him down here. Then when he comes in, you break through the bars and subdue him.”

Gage furrowed his brows. “But that will set the bells off.”

“We’ll do it on your side, that way I won’t be directly under them. I’ll plug my ears with ripped-off bits of my tank top. It’ll still hurt like a mother, but I should be able to survive until you can shut them off.”

“What if I can’t shut them off?” He frowned. “It’s too much of a risk.”

“Then you get me the hell out of here.” She leaned in. “I’m tired of being toyed with. I want out.”

“I do, too.” He studied her for a moment. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes. You’ll need to feed from my wrist. Then I can put my jacket back on and hide the mark.” Even with her supernatural abilities to heal, it would take about twenty-four hours for his bite to vanish entirely. Until then, she’d have two small puncture marks that would give away what they’d done.

Something dark and feral crossed through his gaze, but it wasn’t the kind of untamed hunger she’d just seen in him. This time it was desire.

She held a finger up. “This doesn’t mean anything. You know that, right? I’m just doing what’s necessary to get us out of here.”

“Got it.” His jaw notched to one side, but she couldn’t be concerned with his disappointment. This was an escape plan, nothing else. He glanced back at the glass window. “How do you want to do this?”

“As stealthily as possible.”

He stretched out longwise with his back to the glass. “Lay in front of me. Facing me.”

She slipped in next to him, feeling for the first time just how cold he was. A sure sign he needed blood. “I’m going to tear some strips off my tank now so that’s done.”

“Go ahead.”

She kept her movements small and used the knife to make two clean cuts. The strips came off easily. She balled them up and tucked them into her front pocket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He took her hand, shielding her from sight with his body. “You’re trembling.”

“No, I’m not.” Maybe she was. A little. But she hadn’t been this close to him in a long time. Scratch that. She hadn’t been this close to a dangerous, half-starved vampire in a long time. That’s what she was afraid of. Not him. Not the way he made her feel. “You’re cold. It made me shiver.”

He made a face, that quirky little half smile that meant, Okay, sure. He turned her hand so that her wrist faced him. Inches from his mouth. “You still have the knife?”

“It’s on the floor behind me. Why?”

“Keep it handy.” He looked at her wrist. “If…anything happens, if I can’t stop, do whatever you have to do to get me off you.”

“How about you just don’t let it get to that point?”

“That’s my goal. I promise.”

“Do it then. Before I change my mind.” She closed her eyes, bracing for the bite and the moment of pain before it turned pleasurable. She had no intention of letting him see any emotion on her face. No intention of giving him the satisfaction of what they’d once shared.

The bite didn’t come. Instead, his mouth, soft but firm, gentle yet insistent, found her wrist. He kissed her skin in easy, feathery motions that trailed from the base of her palm to halfway toward her elbow while his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

Her eyes opened at the same time as her mouth, but no sound came out. It took her a second to find her words. “That’s not what you’re supposed to be doing,” she hissed.

His mouth stayed on her wrist as his gaze lifted to her. “I’m not a monster,” he breathed over her skin. “If you’re cold, I need to warm you up. Helps with the blood flow. You know that.”

His grip was a little firmer as he went back to torturing her skin with his mouth. The trail of kisses turned more serious with small nips and the tease of his tongue. Her traitorous body responded against her wishes, tightening and softening and tingling in places that had no business giving in to his sly ways.

“Please,” she whispered, desperate for him to feed and be done before her body betrayed her completely.

He smiled against her skin. “There’s my girl.”

“I’m not your—oh…oh…”

His teeth sank into her flesh, and the pain she’d braced for never came. Instead, a deep, intoxicating warmth suffused her veins, drugging her in the most delicious way. Her head tipped back as her eyes drifted shut. She remembered this. The way he could turn her joints to jelly and give her that utterly irreplaceable floating feeling. Which was usually followed by the desire to—she inhaled sharply. There it was. The hot rush of need.

She wanted to grind her hips against him, to tear at his clothes and rake her nails down his skin. To mark him as hers.

His fangs sank a little deeper, making her writhe. She wanted to bite him back, and had on many occasions. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut and turned away as much as possible.

This is just to get out, she told herself. Just to stay alive.

Despite that, her hand found its way to his chest. She spread her fingers on the hard plane of muscle there. He was already warming. That only made her want to touch him without fabric between them. Skin on skin. Just like the old days. A soft mewl of pleasure met her ears. She realized it had come from her. She rolled her lips in, on the verge of giving in to the urge to climb on top of him and—

He released her wrist, stroked his tongue across the twin punctures to close them, then sighed deeply. “Thank you. I feel like a new man. Completely in control.”

She inhaled, even though she wanted to sob. She wasn’t done. Wasn’t ready for it to be over. She said nothing.

He kissed the place his mouth had just been before removing his hand from her skin. “You should sleep. We both should, if we can.”

She nodded and clutched her wrist to her chest. He draped his arm over her, pulling her even closer. She put her forehead to his chest. “I hate this.” She wasn’t entirely sure what she hated in that moment, but it was something. Not him. But it was something.

“I know,” he said. “I hate it, too.”

“Will you need to feed again?”

“No.” His voice was soft. “We can work on getting out of here as soon as we’re rested.”

She nodded into his chest. “Good.” She closed her eyes, not expecting to sleep, but hoping she could. Otherwise, she was going to spend several long torturous hours curled against a man she both despised and desired.

Because that was the truth of it right there. If Gage had never betrayed her, they’d still be together. Probably married by now. But he had betrayed her. And refused to tell her why.

She sighed deeply.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

She almost laughed. No, nothing was okay. “Fine,” she murmured. Maybe when they got out of here, she’d give him one last chance to explain what had happened. Didn’t mean she’d take him back.

But maybe…

The moment Minka had drifted off, he’d separated from her and gone back to his side of the cell. Being so close to her was its own special kind of torture. Tasting her had been even more torturous, but also a pleasure he’d never thought he’d have the privilege of experiencing again. And despite her efforts to the contrary, she had clearly enjoyed it, too.

But when she’d willingly tucked herself against his chest and stayed there, next to him, the way she had every night when they’d been together, he’d almost lost his control for a completely different reason. She could protest all she wanted, but he believed there was still a chance for them.

And he planned to get that chance as soon as they got out of here and he found Blackwell and took care of that loose end.

Until then, Gage crouched in the far corner, leaning on the bars and staring toward the window and the cameras.

The cameras had followed him when he’d moved, so the Alchemist was definitely watching. The single bank of dim fluorescents had stayed on, plenty for Gage to see by, but how much their captor was able to make out Gage wasn’t sure. From dealing with him before, Gage knew the Alchemist was human. Skilled beyond human capacity, thanks to his knowledge of the supernatural, but human nonetheless.

Gage tipped his head back against the bars. He’d dozed a little. Not daysleep. More like a catnap. Hard to sleep when your captor was making you the brunt of his sick games. Gage had no idea what the Alchemist intended to subject them to next, but he didn’t intend to see it played out. Instead, he and Minka would be giving the Alchemist a show of their own.

Minka shifted and yawned. By his internal clock, she’d been out only a few hours, but for a supe like her, that should be enough to let her recover from donating her blood and put her back on her game.

He was anxious to put their plan into motion and knew she wanted out as much as he did. With that thought, he tore the thong from his hair, letting it fall wild. Then he fixed his face into a tormented mask, pushed to his feet and started pacing, making sure to glare menacingly at her each time he turned.

She sat up, her gaze full of questions for a split second, then recognition set in. She quickly pulled her jacket on, covering the tiny marks left behind from his bite, then got to her knees, turned away from the window and sneaked the fabric from her front pocket.

Once she’d plugged her ears, he went into full-on hungry vampire.

“Get away from me,” he snarled.

The lights around the window kicked on, flooding the space and making them each squint as their eyes adjusted. The shadowy figure reappeared behind the glass. Let the show begin.

She stood and backed up against the bars, looking appropriately worried. “There’s nowhere for me to go.”

He went to the bars closest to the window, making sure the Alchemist could see how hungry he was. “I need to feed.”

As if on cue, the Alchemist chimed in. “Which is why I provided you with the pixie.”

Gage turned slowly toward Minka, his head tipped down but his eyes fixed on her. With as much menace as he could gather, he again said, “I need to feed.”

The Alchemist encouraged him. “You should, vampire. No reason for both of you to die here, is there?”

That made it sound as though the Alchemist was going to let Gage live if he killed Minka. Gage doubted that very highly. He let the Alchemist think otherwise and took a few steps toward Minka.

She brandished the knife. “Don’t make me hurt you, Gage.”

“Hurt me?” Gage laughed.

“I’ll do it,” she threatened. “I’ll kill you if I have to.”

“Excellent,” the Alchemist muttered. “A battle royal. But we all know who’s going to win, don’t we?” He laughed. “Drain her, vampire.”

Gage advanced. “Come here, Minka. Stop fighting the inevitable.”

She raised the blade. “Stay away from me.” Her gaze flicked to the window. “Let me out of here. He’s going to kill me.”

“Precisely the point,” the Alchemist answered. “But feel free to make a good show of defending yourself. That’s more of a chance than my wife was given.”

Gage and Minka exchanged guarded looks. Whether or not the Alchemist’s slip was intentional, he’d just confirmed for them who he was.

Gage gave her a small nod that he was about to attack. She returned his nod and stood there bravely, even though he knew she had to be a little apprehensive about what was about to go down.

He lifted his head and bellowed with the rage of a starving vampire. She shrieked and cowered against the bars. He lunged, knocking the blade from her hand far more easily than he should have been able. He took that as a promising sign of her trust.

She fought, pounding on his chest and punching at him to get away. He took the blows as he snagged her around the waist and lifted her, pinning her arms with a hard embrace. He made sure they were facing away from the cameras and the window. “I’ll do my best not to hurt you,” he whispered.

“Same here,” she whispered back.

What she meant by that, he wasn’t sure.

Then she rammed her head into his chin, making him see stars and taste blood. His own. The shock of it was enough for her to wriggle free. He cursed and found some real anger to play off of. “You must want to die, pixie.”

Gleeful sounds came from the Alchemist’s direction.

Minka faced Gage, the twinkle in her eyes making it all too clear that she was enjoying beating on him. “I’m not going down without a fight, bloodsucker.”

He made a grab for her, but she dodged, slipping past him with a shot to the kidneys and a smirk that reeked of satisfaction. Apparently, she’d wanted to give him a thrashing for a while. He understood. If it helped even things between them, he’d take whatever she had to dish out.

They exchanged a few more easy blows until he’d positioned her as far from the bells as possible. At least his were easy. She might be small, but she packed a wallop and he’d have bruises to show for it tomorrow. He was also ready for both of them to be free of this place. He started left, causing her to go right, then quickly changed direction and took her down. They went to the ground with him on top. They hit hard enough that her air left her in a soft whuff.

Panic danced in her eyes. He eased off slightly, enough that the Alchemist wouldn’t notice but so she could still catch her breath. The panic receded.

“Finish her,” the Alchemist urged.

Gage lifted his head toward the window and snarled while Minka made a show of struggling.

“Don’t like to be watched, do you, vampire?”

Gage shifted so his body obstructed more of the Alchemist’s view. If the man wanted to see what was going on, he’d have to come down in person. Gage held Minka’s arms to the floor and bent over her. His hair spilled over his shoulders, hiding them further. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Without preparing her as he had before, he sank his fangs into her neck. He knew it would hurt that way, but he needed her reaction to look real.

She cried out, arching beneath him.

The door behind them opened and closed, and the smell of chemicals, stale cigarettes and coffee filled the room. The Alchemist had arrived. Gage drank with the careless abandon of the newly turned, smearing blood over his face and Minka’s neck. It disgusted him, but this needed to be convincing.

Minka knew it, too. She fought as best she could, slowly but visually getting weaker and weaker until she stopped moving altogether. From the beating of her heart, Gage could tell she was doing just fine. At last, Gage sat back on his heels. He wiped a hand across his face, smearing the blood even further and giving their captor something else to look at besides Minka’s still-breathing body.

Then he got to his feet and faced the man who’d orchestrated their capture.

The Alchemist stood on the other side of the bars, a slight man in a pristine lab coat, large wire-rimmed glasses and greasy black hair. For a moment, fear registered in his eyes, and Gage knew wiping the blood across his face had done the trick. How crazed he must look with his hair hanging around his face, fangs descended, blood dripping from his mouth. He kept his sneer fixed in place. “You.” He nodded once. “You got what you wanted. Let me out.”

“That wasn’t the deal.” The Alchemist shook his head before tipping it to the side. “You remember me, vampire?”

Gage hesitated. No point keeping up the lie. The man seemed to want his recognition. “You’re the Alchemist. We thought you died in the fire.”

The Alchemist shuffled back, stretched out his hands and laughed. “You’ll see I didn’t.” His laughter died, and his lip curled up in anger. “My wife, however, was not so fortunate.”

Gage needed the man to get within striking range. He narrowed his eyes and layered accusation into his tone. “You left her behind.”

The Alchemist charged forward, spittle flying from his nicotine-stained mouth. “I did no such thing. You killed her. You and the pixie.”

With impossible-to-track speed, Gage shoved his arm through the cell, grabbed the Alchemist by his white coat and yanked him forward with enormous force.

The Alchemist collided with the bars. Blood gushed from his nose, and he passed out. Gage dropped him. “Minka, get up and follow me. We’re getting out of here.”

He glanced back to make sure she was on her feet. He cringed inwardly at the bloody state he’d left her in.

She jumped up and put her hands over her ears. “Let’s go.”

With her at his back, Gage latched on to the front bars and pulled them apart. The bells started clanging. He moved out of the way, took Minka’s arm and pushed her toward the opening. She grimaced in pain, eyes nearly squeezed shut, but got herself through.

As soon as she was out, he stretched the bars wider to accommodate his bulk and followed. She took a step, then bent double, holding her head and crying out in agony.

“Get to the door,” he yelled over the ear-splitting noise.

She took a few steps toward the exit, then stumbled and went down. Blood trickled from her nose.

He leaped over the Alchemist and ran to her. She was curled in a fetal position. He pulled her into his arms. “Hang in there, baby.” He got them to the door in a few steps, but trying to open it just made the keypad flash. Locked. Getting the Alchemist’s key card, which currently hung from his neck on a lariat, would take too long.

Screw that.

Gage shifted Minka so he could hold her with one arm, then grabbed the handle and wrenched the door off its hinges. A set of steps lay behind. Minka sobbed softly in his arms. He repositioned her once more, then jogged up the stairs, following a bend to another flight. On the second landing, he found two more doors, one with a placard on it that said Lab.

He chose that one but didn’t check to see if it was locked, just threw his shoulder against it and forced it open. Not so much a lab as a control room. With a window that overlooked the cells. He eased Minka into the only chair available and shut the door. Even busted, it did a passable job of blocking out the jarring sound of the bells.

He wiped the blood from beneath her nose with his thumb, then tenderly used his fingertips to clean away her tears. Her eyes were still closed. “Hey.” He cupped her face gently in his hands. “How are you doing?”

She let out a long, slow breath and opened her eyes. She blinked a few times then shook her head. “I can’t hear you.” She wiggled the bits of fabric out of her ears. They were spotted with blood and removing them didn’t help her hearing any. “The deafness is probably temporary.”

He mouthed his words carefully as he held a hand up. “Stay here.” He pointed to himself then out the window. The Alchemist was starting to regain consciousness. “I need to go get him.”

She nodded.

He kissed her forehead then raced back down the stairs. The Alchemist was on his knees, the damn bells still ringing. Gage put him in a headlock.

“Let me go,” he howled. “I’ll kill you, you beast.”

“Shut it, little man.” Gage dragged him up the steps. He opened the control room door, got them both inside and kicked it shut. Minka was rummaging through some of the cabinets in the small room. He faced the Alchemist toward the panel of lights and switches beneath the window. “Turn those damn bells off.”

“Turn them off yourself, vampire. The pixie deserves to die. You both do.” The Alchemist twisted, trying to get free.

Gage tightened his grip. “Do you know how it feels to be bled dry?” He put his mouth next to the man’s ear. “Because I’d be happy to show you.”

The Alchemist cursed and clawed at Gage’s arm.

Gage tightened his grip, causing the man to wheeze for breath.

The Alchemist lifted a shaking hand toward the panel and gasped out a few words. “Second…black…switch marked…audio.”

Gage turned the bells off and loosened his hold. Blessed silence. Except for the ringing in his own ears. He could only imagine the pain Minka had gone through. She turned and, seeing them, pointed to the Alchemist, then the seat.

Gage planted him roughly in the chair.

“I found these.” She pulled out a handful of zip ties.

“Those will do nicely.” He gave her a nod and she went to work securing the Alchemist’s wrists and ankles. Gage touched her arm when she was done to get her attention, then gave her a wink. Their plan had worked.

She grinned, causing all sorts of chaos inside him, then pointed to the counter. “I found our stuff.”

Their phones, blades and a few other personal items lay in a heap. He gave her a thumbs-up. “Good. Rest now, okay?”

She held up a finger. “Soon.”

Not soon enough. Time to get some answers. Gage leaned on the control panel and focused on the Alchemist. “From what I remember, you weren’t exactly flush the last time we dealt with you. In fact, your whole scheme back then was an attempt to make cash. So why don’t we start with who funded this place?”

The Alchemist tugged against the zip ties. “Like I’d tell you jack.”

“So someone is paying your bills. Who? The crew you were involved with last time? We rounded the lot of them up.”

He sneered. “You don’t know anything.”

Gage crossed his arms and stared down at the little man. “What I know is you intended to kill me and my partner. I also know that if you don’t answer my questions, I’m going to kill you.”

The Alchemist laughed. “You wouldn’t dare. That’s not Collector policy.”

“And this isn’t Collector business.” Gage put his hands on the arms of the chair and leaned in. “I came to Vegas for personal reasons, so anything that happens here is strictly off the books.” A little fear crept into the man’s eyes. “That means the only policy I have to abide by is my own.” Gage bared his teeth and ran his tongue across his fangs.

The Alchemist’s breathing sped up. “I-I don’t know anything.”

“If you have no answers, I have no reason to keep you alive.”

The man twitched. “I m-might know something.”

Gage held his position. “Who wrote the note that got me here?”

The Alchemist tried to back away, but there was nowhere for him to go. “I did.”

“Then who told you what to write?” No one knew about his quest for Blackwell. Except Blackwell. A sharp, niggling fear unfurled in his belly. Was Blackwell in league with the Alchemist?

“No one told me anything.” The Alchemist was sweating now.

Minka tapped Gage’s shoulder. He turned to her. She made a face, clearly impatient. “Have you found out anything?”

He shook his head and spoke clearly. “Not yet. But I’m not done.”

He went back to the Alchemist and stared hard into his eyes. “Answer me. Who told you to write the note?”

The man’s mouth hardened into a firm line and stayed shut.

Gage threw his hands up in disgust. “It’s like you want me to make you bleed.”

Minka grabbed his arm. “Let me try.”

“What are you going to—” But she’d already turned away from him, which meant she couldn’t hear him or read his lips.

“Hold his head still.” She rummaged around on the narrow counter top before whirling around with a screwdriver in her hand. Her eyes narrowed with intent.

Gage got behind the Alchemist and braced his head with both hands. “What are you going to do with that?”

But she wasn’t looking at Gage and didn’t answer him. The Alchemist whimpered. Gage bent down to speak to him. “You had your chance. Now the pixie’s going to take a crack at you.” Whatever that might look like. Minka had never been one to shy away from interrogations, but the screwdriver thing was new. Who knew what she’d picked up in the last two years.

The Alchemist tried to turn his head as Minka came toward him.

Gage held him firm, but that didn’t stop him from squealing.

Minka wasn’t deterred. She pinched the Alchemist’s nose, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. As soon as his lips parted, she laid the screwdriver across his teeth like a bit to prevent him from shutting his mouth again. Gage suddenly knew exactly what she was going to do.

She inhaled and closed her eyes in a moment of intense concentration. When she opened them, her irises glowed green. She pursed her lips, bent down and blew a stream of glittering dust down the Alchemist’s throat. He choked and coughed and worked against Gage’s restriction, but his struggle faded as Minka continued. At last, she finished and stood up, wobbling slightly. The Alchemist’s eyes were glazed over, and his face had relaxed into a slack expression.

She took the screwdriver out of his mouth. “That should help. I’d ask him the questions myself, but…” She put a hand out to steady herself.

Gage rushed to her side and held on to her. He kissed her temple before sweeping everything off the counter top behind her. Then he picked her up and set her on it. “Rest, okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.” Then she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

He’d seen her use pixie dust before when they’d worked together. It was powerful stuff, but it took a toll on her system. With her already being weak from blood loss, he wasn’t happy about her using that skill set, but he understood.

He wasn’t about to let her effort be wasted either. He went after the Alchemist again, slapping his cheek to snap him back to reality.

He came to with a start, hacking and gagging. “What the hell did she just do to me?”

Gage got into the Alchemist’s face again. “This is the last time I’m going to ask before you start bleeding.” Although that shouldn’t be necessary now. “Who told you to write that note?”

“No…” The Alchemist stuck his tongue out and grimaced like he tasted something bad. “No…damn it, no—Blackwell.” His eyes rounded in shock. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Gage cursed and balled his hands into fists. “I knew it. Did he also give you the money to fund this operation?”

The Alchemist shook his head no, but the word that came out was, “Yes.” He cried out in frustration. “I didn’t mean to say that either.”

There wasn’t a creature alive who could fight the truth-inducing properties of pixie dust. Gage wasn’t sure how long it would last. He hurried to ask his last few questions. “Where’s Blackwell?”

“I don’t know.”

“What were you supposed to do with me once Minka was dead?”

The Alchemist answered with a frustrated growl. “Feed you tainted blood again to knock you out, then call Blackwell for the meeting place.”

Gage stood. This was the chance he’d been hoping for. His nerves pinged with the desire to lay hands on Blackwell and mete out justice for Caleb. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to calm himself down. “Let’s get you on the phone then.”

Minka was in that limbo between barely awake and almost asleep when Gage’s big hand jiggled her knee. She opened her eyes, unsure how long she’d rested. A yawn overtook her, then she stretched. It would be a day or two before she was a hundred percent after the ordeal of being locked up, losing blood and dusting someone.

She raised her brows at Gage to let him know she was ready for whatever came next. “Did you find out anything?”

He nodded. “We need to go.” His voice filtered in, tinny and distant, the first thing she’d heard since the bells had almost killed her.

“Okay.” She slid off the counter. Her hearing was starting to return, but sounds were coming at her like they were a thousand miles away. She leaned in to hear him better. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to take you home then deal with the Alchemist.”

“You mean drop him off at headquarters? They don’t even know you’re here. I can do that.”

He tipped his head. “You seem like you’re hearing me pretty well. Is the deafness gone?”

“Not entirely. Sounds are distant. Like you’re at the end of a long tunnel. But getting better.”

He nodded. “Good. Because we need to talk.” He glanced back at the Alchemist. “But not here.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not going back downstairs. I don’t even want to see another bell for at least a year.”

“Understood.” He pushed the door open and waved at her to follow. “C’mon.”

She pointed at the Alchemist. “What about him?”

“He’s not going anywhere. And if he tries, I’ll kill him.”

The Alchemist swallowed. “I won’t move.”

She doubted that, but followed Gage anyway. He shut the control room door behind them. There was another unmarked door next to it. “That must be the way out,” she said.

“I haven’t checked it yet, but probably.” He raked a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

She leaned against the railing. “When you said ‘deal with the Alchemist,’ you didn’t mean you’re going to turn him in, did you?”

“No.” He stayed by the door.

“Then what?” Her feminine intuition was pinging hard. Something serious was about to go down.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning.”

He snorted softly, a sound she was surprised to catch. “When I was newly turned—”

“I didn’t think you’d take me literally.”

He gave her a little half smile, but it faded quickly. “I have an enemy. Spenser Blackwell. He killed my brother, Caleb—”

“That’s what happened to Caleb?” All the years she’d known Gage, the most he’d said about his brother was that he’d passed shortly after they’d been turned. No details. Just an icy expression of anger and those simple words. Truth be told, she’d wondered if his brother had decided vampire life wasn’t for him and greeted the dawn. It wasn’t unheard of.

“Yes. And I think Blackwell’s trying to kill me now. He bankrolled this whole operation.”

“How do you know that?”

“After you dusted the Alchemist, he sang like a bird.”

She nodded. “Never fails. What else did you learn?”

“The Alchemist was to get your death as repayment for his wife’s, and Blackwell would get me with the added bonus of me having just lost the woman I love at my own hand.”

To hear Gage say that he loved her like it was fact and had always been fact was…bittersweet. But now was not the time to deal with that emotion. Thankfully. “Blackwell is for sure the one who killed your brother?”

Gage nodded, his gaze lost in the past.

“Why on earth would Blackwell kill Caleb? Is he just that much of a sick bastard?”

That brought him back. “Yes, he is, but he did it to punish me.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I stole the woman Blackwell loved. For no other reason than I could.”

She raised her brows. “I’m sure there was more reason than that.”

Gage’s grimace was laced with disgust. “Blackwell never thought Caleb and I should have been turned. He despised that we’d been given the same gift he had. Even worse, we shared the same sire. He couldn’t stand that we now had the same blood running in our veins. We were…street trash to him. Immigrants. He was aristocracy. His mother was a baroness or something, but still ruined enough to come to New York for a new start. Anyway, we were beneath him.”

She knew Gage’s history, how he and his brother had immigrated to New York City in the hopes of making a better life for themselves, how they’d struggled to survive. Life in the 1800s had been difficult for the lower class. “So you took his girl to prove him wrong.”

“And paid the price. He kidnapped my brother less than a year later.” The muscles in Gage’s jaw tightened. “I want to know what he did with Caleb’s body so I can give him a decent burial.”

“And Blackwell? What are you going to do with him?”

Gage met her gaze squarely. “I’m going to kill him.”

His words came in loud and clear. She nodded slowly. “This is what you’ve been hiding from me all these years. Why you took that info I shared about the nest of vampires. What did you do, head out there and clean them out, hoping to find Blackwell?”

“Yes.”

“You betrayed me to find your brother’s killer.” She could almost understand it. Her anger at him lost some of its bite. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“For one, it would have meant making you lie for me. And you’re not a good liar.”

“That much is true.” Pixies were known for being blunt and painfully truthful.

“If you’d let it slip, I would have lost my job as a Collector. Or worse. Which I guess is going to happen anyway.” He heaved out a sigh.

“Why do you think that?”

He laughed bitterly. “I only took the job as a Collector to have access to the resources. It’s why I went back to New York. There was some indication Blackwell had surfaced there, but all my leads came up empty.”

“You could have told me some of this.”

“Why? So you could lose your job, too? You’re a great Collector. It would have been wrong for you to pay for my recklessness.”

Her anger started to creep back in. “We were in love. I would have gladly helped you.”

He smiled sadly. “I know you would have. I have no doubt about that. But the risk was too great.” He stared at the concrete landing. “I also knew that if you’d gotten involved, you would have become a target for Blackwell, too.”

“I think that’s already happened.”

“Which is why I have to kill him. I have to put an end to this.” He hesitated. “Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me, but maybe someday you’ll understand. See things from my side. That’s all I can hope for.” He glanced at her, sincerity shining in his gaze. “I never meant to get you into trouble. And I never wanted you hurt in any way. I am deeply sorry for the pain you’ve had to endure because of me.”

She covered her face with her hands for a moment and took a few deep breaths. She still loved this man. Yes, she was angry at him. But that didn’t erase their history or what she felt. She pulled her hands away and looked at him again. Why did he have to be so damn handsome? He’d been so sweet to her when they’d been locked up. The same way he’d been when they were together. It made her ache for those perfect years. “I would be a fool to get involved with you again.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He straightened and reached for the door. “We should go. The Alchemist set up a meeting to deliver me to Blackwell. I don’t want to be late and make Blackwell think something’s gone wrong.”

“You’re not going to that meeting alone.”

He stopped. “You’re not going with me.”

“The hell I’m not.”

“You need to rest and recover. Your hearing isn’t even back to normal yet.”

“It’s close. Maybe seventy-five percent. Doesn’t matter, because this is non-negotiable. I’m going with you.”

He stabbed a finger at the ground. “This is why I didn’t tell you about this whole mess in the first place.”

“Because I’m stubborn? Because I do what I want to? That’s nothing new. I’ve always been that way.” She walked toward him, stopping in front of the door.

“I’m aware. And yes, you’re damn stubborn.”

She shrugged. “Deal with it. I’m not letting you go alone.” The thought of Blackwell killing Gage was more than she could handle. “At least with me there you’ll have a fighting chance.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m an asset.”

“You might be a liability.” He looked away for a second. “I need to be able to concentrate. Blackwell and I are pretty evenly matched when it comes to speed and strength. We were turned at the same time. But I’ve spent years honing my fighting skills, while he’s spent years paying others to do his dirty work. I should be able to take him, but if I have to look out for you, it could cost me that edge.”

“I know how to fight.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered his head to meet her eye to eye. “You’re an amazing fighter. I have the bruises to prove it. But the second Blackwell knows I care for you, he will make it his mission to kill you.” Hard, dark fear shrouded his gaze. “I cannot bear to watch him drain you, because that’s what he’ll do.”

She thought for a moment, then tapped a finger on his chest. “Then let’s use that against him and you won’t have to fight him at all.”

“What are you talking about?”

She tipped her head toward the control room. “Let’s go see how badly the Alchemist wants to live.”

The abandoned theater was a fitting location for Gage’s final showdown with Blackwell since the man had been the author behind the drama driving Gage all these long years.

He hung in the shadows behind some discarded scenery panels. Every fiber of his being was on edge in anticipation of Blackwell’s arrival. There was too much at stake, too many ways it could all go wrong for him to be anything but a raw nerve.

The Alchemist stood beside him, now very much subdued and willing to be an accomplice to their game in exchange for his life. Which might still be forfeit if things didn’t go the way he’d promised.

Behind Gage, Minka shifted and exhaled a ragged breath. If she was nervous, he understood. What they were about to attempt was one of the riskiest things they’d ever done together. And that was saying something.

The squeal of unused hinges announced someone had entered the building. It had to be Blackwell. Gage clenched his hands, his desire for revenge a palpable thing. The restraints binding his wrists bit into his flesh, and the subtle pain allowed him to focus. They’d have one shot at this.

One.

Blackwell strode into the theater, walking down the center aisle like he was the king of the world. The years hadn’t changed him one bit. Arrogant bastard. He put his hands on his hips. “Show yourself, human. I know you’re here. I can smell you.”

The Alchemist stumbled forward, pulling Gage and Minka along with him. “I’m here.”

Blackwell’s gaze went to Gage, and his thin lips widened in a triumphant smile. “Yes, you are. And with my present.” Then he shifted to Minka. “What’s the woman doing here?”

The Alchemist scratched at his head nervously. “They wouldn’t kill each other. Too much in love.” He made a gagging sound. “I thought you might appreciate being able to do to her what this one couldn’t.”

Minka raised her zip-tied hands to give him the finger. “Screw you, you pasty bloodsucker.”

“Feisty, isn’t she?” Blackwell’s smile took on an especially wicked intent. “Well, this is a pleasure I hadn’t counted on. And you don’t mind not killing her yourself?” He looked askance at the Alchemist. “I thought you wanted revenge for your wife’s death at the hands of these two.”

The Alchemist shrugged. “I’ll still be getting that, even if you’re the one who kills her.”

Blackwell nodded. “That you will.”

“You lay a hand on me and you’ll be sorry,” Minka spat.

Gage let his head sag to his chest, playing the part of the drugged prisoner but also attempting to hide his face in case the smile he was fighting won. Minka was enjoying this, he could tell. Didn’t take the danger out of the situation, but at least she kept things interesting.

Blackwell cleared his throat. “You’ve drugged him, as per our agreement.”

“Yes.” The Alchemist poked Gage. “He’s on a cocktail of one of my partial paralytics with a little downer thrown in for good measure. Don’t expect a lot out of him in the way of reaction.”

“But he’s aware of what’s happening?”

“You mean, will he know you’re draining his girlfriend? Yes.”

“Excellent.” Blackwell almost purred, amping up Gage’s desire to throttle the man. “Let’s get started, shall we?” He pointed to the steps leading up to the stage. “Give the girl to me, then sit him down over there and hold his head up. I want to make sure he sees this.”

The Alchemist handed Minka over and led Gage to the steps. As soon as they were seated, the Alchemist grabbed a handful of Gage’s hair and pulled his head back.

Minka hissed at Blackwell. “I will kill you.”

He laughed. “You are a live one. No wonder Gage keeps you around.”

She spat at him.

He backhanded her. Gage fought not to charge forward, rip the vampire’s heart from his chest and turn him to ash right then.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Please,” she whispered. “Just let me go.”

“I don’t think so, little one.” Blackwell tipped her chin up with his finger. “You see, your boyfriend was a very bad vampire many years ago, and now you’re going to pay the price for it. Really, this is his fault.”

He snaked his arm around her and pulled her against his chest, then used his other hand to crank her head down and expose her neck. “Say good-bye to your boyfriend.”

Minka started crying. “Please don’t do this, please…”

Gage struggled to keep up the act of being drugged as her pleas cut into him. Pretend or not, the fear in her voice made him see red.

Blackwell’s grin remained in place a second longer, then it turned into a sneer. “Watch now, Gage. Watch as I take someone else from you.” He bared his fangs and bit down on Minka’s neck.

She cried out, begging to be released once more, then she stopped struggling and focused on Gage.

He watched her eyes, waiting for the slightest sign that their plan was going wrong.

Blackwell’s head snapped up, blood staining his mouth. “What’s this?” He shook his head like he was trying to rid himself of something. “What did you do to me?” He stumbled, putting a hand out as he fell into the first row of seats.

Minka yanked her wrists apart, snapping the zip ties, and ran toward Gage, shocking him by sticking to the plan. She put a hand to her bleeding neck. “Take the bastard down. I’ve got the Alchemist.” She pulled her blade from her hip and pointed it at their former captor.

Behind her, Blackwell righted himself.

With a roar, Gage ripped off the restraints and charged Blackwell like he’d wanted to do since the man had entered the building. Gage knew he’d have only a minute or two before the drugs wore off and Blackwell was back at full strength. The Alchemist had claimed that finding something that could reside in Minka’s bloodstream without adversely affecting her but was also strong enough to fell a vampire left them with very few choices. Gage wasn’t complaining. The Alchemist had held up his end of the deal so far.

Gage punched Blackwell across the jaw. “It’s over this time, Blackwell.”

Blackwell staggered down the aisle, tilting until he crashed into another row of seats. He managed to keep retreating. “She drugged me. That nasty little pixie drugged me. Did you know about this, Hudson?”

“Of course I did. We planned it that way. And drugging you is the least of what we’re going to do to you.” Gage caught up to him and unleashed a flurry of punches, taking the man to the ground and pounding on him until his features started to melt into a bloody pulp.

Minka’s hand grabbed his shoulder. “Gage, enough.”

Gage sat back, still seething with rage. “He needs to pay.”

“He’s going to, but you need him able to speak. Do any more damage and you’ll have to wait for him to heal to find out where your brother’s body is.”

He turned to look at her. She was right. He’d been on the verge of losing it, and once again, she’d set him right. Part of him ached at how good they were together. How much he still needed her in his life. But she’d already said she’d be a fool to get back together with him, and he was going to have to come to terms with that. Until then, he had Blackwell to deal with. “You’re right. As usual.”

She nudged his shoulder with something. “Restrain him already. We’re wasting darkness, and that sedative won’t last forever.”

He wanted to kiss her. She’d been through hell for him these last few hours. The least he could do was stick to the plan. He took the restraints she was offering, SCC issued and capable of holding a vampire. He climbed off Blackwell, flipped him over and cuffed him. “Done.”

“Good.” She smiled, but looked pale. How she was even upright, he wasn’t sure, but then she’d always been amazingly resilient, even for a supe. With the amount of blood she’d donated in such a short amount of time and then using her pixie dust on the Alchemist, she had to be jonesing for a nice long nap.

Gage hoisted Blackwell to his feet and dragged him toward the front of the theater. On the stage, the Alchemist was trussed up and immobile, thanks to Minka’s deft hands. Gage shoved Blackwell into one of the front-row seats, then took a few steps away to speak to her. “If you want to take the Alchemist and get out of here, I totally understand. I can finish this.”

“No. We’ve come this far together, let’s finish it that way.”

He wanted to tell her he loved her, how much her staying meant, but this was neither the time nor the place, and she didn’t want to hear it anyway. He nodded instead. “Okay.”

What else could he do?

Tired was an understatement, but Minka’s years as a Collector had taught her to rise above things like pain and hunger and the need for sleep. It had also taught her not to leave a fellow Collector in the midst of a mission. No, this wasn’t a sanctioned Collection, and she and Gage weren’t partners anymore, but damn if it didn’t feel that way. Like old times. When things had been so good between them, she’d dreamed of their future together.

A dream she’d blamed Gage for destroying. Now she knew he wasn’t entirely to blame. How much did that change things?

She wasn’t sure.

She sat on the steps of the main stage and let him question the man responsible for his brother’s death. She settled in and turned to look at the Alchemist. “You did right by us. You’re going to get locked up for the rest of your natural life, but I’ll make sure they don’t put you in with the hard cases.”

He scowled at her. “You still deserve to die for what you did to my wife.”

She glanced skyward and sighed. “You try to be nice to someone… Fine. You want to play tough guy, knock yourself out. You and your damn bells. I ought to—”

Blackwell’s laughter caught her attention, and she realized her hearing was back one hundred percent. As much as she wanted to lie down and crash, she wondered if Gage needed her. If Blackwell was laughing, that couldn’t mean the interrogation was going that well. She got up and walked to Gage’s side. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, good,” Blackwell said through his bloodied mouth. “The girlfriend is here to help you. Hello, pixie. I can see why Gage kept you around. Very tasty despite the nasty trick you played on me.” He wiggled his brows.

She punched him in the mouth, causing him to snarl in pain. Gage’s mouth bent oddly, and she realized he was stifling a smile. “What?”

Gage shrugged. “Nothing. Except you just told me to stop hitting him.”

“Yeah, well.” She wiped her hand off on one of the empty theater seats. “What have you learned?”

“Nothing.” Gage went back to Blackwell. “You’re running out of time. Tell me what you did with my brother’s body and this can all be over.”

Minka sighed. “I say we just kill him and be done. Or…” She tapped a finger against her bottom lip.

Gage looked at her. “Yes?”

Minka lifted her chin toward the door. “Sun’s up in less than three hours.”

“And?”

“We could stake him out in the middle of the desert.” She lifted her brows at the possibility. “That might motivate him to talk. It’s not like you’d have to be there. I could even video what happens after the sun comes up.” She grinned. “Pretty sure that would go viral.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Blackwell spat.

Minka grabbed his jaw and squeezed, getting as close as she dared. “Then tell Gage where Caleb’s body is and maybe I’ll talk him into turning you over to the Gotham City Collectors instead of ashing you like he really wants to.” She let go of him.

Blackwell’s lip curled. “It’s touching that you care so much, but—”

She punched him again.

“Minka.” Gage shot her a look.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s really hard not to punch.”

“Let me go and I won’t kill either of you,” Blackwell said.

Minka shoved a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Are you joking? You’re the one most likely to end up dead here. Tell Gage where his brother’s body is.”

“Let me go and I’ll tell you,” Blackwell countered.

Minka snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like a good deal.”

Blackwell shot forward, almost knocking her down. Gage tackled him and pinned him to the ground, rendering him unconscious with another punch. “Sedative’s worn off.”

“I’ll get the chains.” Minka ran to the duffel bag of supplies they’d brought with them, just a few things scrounged from the Alchemist’s holding cell, which had turned out to be part of an old bomb shelter. She snagged the chain and lock then ran back to help Gage secure Blackwell.

Gage had him propped in one of the theater seats again. Together, he and Minka wound the chain around, finally pulling it tight and locking the links at the back.

Minka stepped back. “That should hold him.”

Blackwell lifted his head, eyes focusing on her. “Not for long. And then I’ll kill you both.”

She shook her head. “Wow, you’re a broken record. If you hadn’t killed Gage’s brother, none of this would even be happening right now. And for what? A woman? Men are such idiots.”

Blackwell’s head fell back, and he laughed like he’d just heard the funniest thing in the world.

Gage grabbed a handful of the man’s hair and yanked his head up. “What’s so funny?”

Blackwell caught his breath. “You think I killed your brother.”

“You did. I was there when you took him. It’s too late to plead innocent now.”

“Oh, I’m not innocent.” Blackwell’s lids did a slow blink that made Minka want to punch him again. “I took Caleb. I admit it. But I didn’t kill him.”

Gage let go of Blackwell and snarled like a trapped animal. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Blackwell’s sneer returned, as though he thought he’d just gotten the upper hand. “Like I said, I didn’t kill Caleb. I just put him in a box and buried him.”

Minka sucked in a breath. The horror of his words made her want to weep.

Blackwell’s eyes narrowed. “Now, let’s talk about letting me go, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll tell you where to find whatever’s left of Caleb.”

A rage like Minka had never seen overtook Gage. It was the only way to explain why he was quivering like an arrow about to be loosed from its bow. Before he could launch, she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the back of the theater.

“My brother…” The words came out of him in a strangled sob.

“I know,” Minka whispered. The thought that Caleb had been buried somewhere for nearly two hundred years, alive but starved of blood, slowly withering into some kind of husk…she swallowed down the absolute awfulness of what Gage must be dealing with and tried to get him to focus on her.

The light in Gage’s eyes was cold and distant. “I’m going to kill him.”

“I know, but we need to find out where Caleb is first.”

The muscles in Gage’s neck corded, his eyes still glazed in pain. “He’s never going to tell me.”

She put her hands on his face and forced him to look at her. “Yes, he will. He’s not going to have a choice.”

Through the haze of rage and misery that threatened to drown him, Gage suddenly realized what Minka was saying. “You can’t dust him. You just used your power on the Alchemist. And you’ve got to be a little weak from blood loss, too. You need time to recover. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m volunteering.” Her hands slid down to his arms. “No, it’s not going to be fun, but what choice do we have? We can’t let your brother spend one more night as Blackwell’s prisoner.”

He wouldn’t argue with that.

She glanced at Blackwell. “Because vampires don’t breathe, I can’t just exhale the dust down his throat like I did with the Alchemist. It’s going to take a little more effort, but I can do it.” She canted her head and stared up at him, her expression all business. “Besides, you’ll take care of me afterward, right?”

New emotion choked him. That she even felt she had to ask… “Of course. I would do anything for you.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m humbled and grateful you want to do this for me. I’m not happy about the toll it’s going to take on you, but your willingness to sacrifice for me—for my brother—I…owe you so much.”

“Hell yeah, you do.” She dropped her arms to her sides, causing him to instantly miss her touch. She snorted in Blackwell’s direction. “Smug bastard.”

“We have to do this right.” Gage followed her gaze. The very sight of the man caused Gage’s jaw to tighten with the kind of rage only blood could satisfy. “You dust him, he gives us the info on Caleb and I rip his heart out. That’s about as right as I can figure.”

“No, you can’t kill him.” Thinly veiled panic framed her words. “Not that quickly anyway.”

He whipped around to look at her. “Why the hell not?”

“My powers aren’t always foolproof. Not on a supe this old and skilled. Besides, we made the Alchemist fix up those syringes so we could knock Blackwell out and turn him over to the GCC for the crime against your brother.”

“I’m not buying that about your powers. I’ve seen you dust supes bigger and badder than Blackwell.” Although he knew turning Blackwell over to the Gotham City Collectors would be a major coup. Still, it wasn’t like Minka to sell herself short. Pixies were proud of their skills.

“He might be able to lie. That’s all I’m saying.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and frowned.

“How is that possible?” Something was up. He knew her too well to think otherwise. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Irritation glinted in her eyes, and the hard set of her mouth was a sign of reluctance he knew well.

“Minka, in your words, we’re wasting darkness.”

“He bit me.” She sighed in exasperation. “He’s drunk my blood. It’s not something we ever reveal, but now you know.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “The only way to circumvent the power of pixie dust is to drink the blood of a pixie.”

Gage’s jaw went south. “Is that why you never dusted me?”

She refused to meet his eyes. “I almost did. That last night.”

The night he’d come back from scouring the vampire nest for Blackwell. She hadn’t known yet what he’d done, just that he’d done something. Suspicious, she’d questioned him, but he’d charmed her out of her mood, and they’d made love. For the very last time. He’d left her the next day, knowing it was his only choice. It was the last time he’d seen her, until he’d awakened to find her in the cell across from his. “You had the chance after I fell asleep.”

“I decided I’d rather not know the truth than have the man I loved lie to me. Although if I’d known then you’d already betrayed me, I might have taken a crack at it.”

The man she’d loved. Her words gutted him almost as badly as the news he’d just gotten from Blackwell. “How would you have known if I had lied?”

“It’s part of the power. We can tell when it’s the truth, and we can tell when it’s a lie.”

“I wouldn’t have lied to you.”

“You don’t know that.” She twirled her fingers around her head. “When there’s dust in your brain, you don’t know what you’d do.”

“Do you regret that decision?”

She finally looked at him. “Sometimes. I thought…never mind.”

“No, what did you think?”

“That…it was another woman. I never suspected you’d raided that vampire nest. Not until my team got there and they were gone.” She lifted one shoulder. “I guess I know now, right?”

“Right.” He could apologize again, but that hadn’t done him much good so far. “For what it’s worth, I would never cheat on you. Ever.” He still hadn’t.

She stared at the floor. “Look, about Blackwell, I’ll dust him. You just have to know there’s a chance he could still lie, but there’s a decent shot he won’t.”

While it wasn’t the place or the time, he wished they could have discussed the past a little more. “Decent?”

She raised her head. “It’s a percentage thing. He’s had some of my blood, but not a lot.”

“Whereas I’d had a lot more.”

She nodded and started back toward the front of the theater. “You’d have had no trouble lying to me.” She hesitated, giving him a cutting look. “Dust or otherwise.”

He grabbed her arm. “Minka, I’ll never lie to you again. I swear.”

She studied him, a thousand unspoken words shining in her eyes. “Let’s go see what Blackwell has to say.”

He nodded and followed after her, more confused than ever. She was clearly still angry and had trust issues with him, which he understood, but she was also willing to help him, so maybe part of her still loved him? It was too complicated for him to suss out right now, especially when there was a chance to get Caleb back.

Maybe he should just be thankful for that much and stop wishing things could be fixed between him and Minka.

Then again, he’d never been a quitter.

With Gage at her side, Minka stood before Blackwell and did her best to ignore the pissy look on the vampire’s face.

He lifted his chin and sighed like he was dealing with idiots. “You two just won’t give up, will you? I’ve given you everything you’re going to get. You want Caleb’s location? Let me go.”

Gage snorted. “And give you the chance to disappear again? Or worse, target us a second time?” He narrowed his gaze. “Not a chance.”

Blackwell rolled his eyes. “So distrusting.”

Gage jerked forward. “Like I have reason to be otherwise, you sanctimonious piece of—”

“Gage.” Minka curled her fingers against her palms to keep from smacking Blackwell as she turned to Gage. Blackwell was infuriating, but that was part of his game. “I’m ready.”

“You got it.” Gage vaulted over the row of seats to stand behind Blackwell.

Blackwell laughed as he stared her down. “You’re the head of interrogation, are you?” He twisted as best he could to look at Gage. “The years have really softened you, but then I imagine letting a woman do your work is typical for someone of your class.”

Gage raised a fist to cuff Blackwell, but Minka lifted her hand. Scrambling Blackwell’s brain wasn’t going to help her. “I need him clearheaded.”

Gage stared at her, but kept his fist cocked back.

Her brows rose. “Once I’m done, you can do as you like.” Although she hoped he made the right choice to leave Blackwell alive and turn him over to either the SCC or the GCC for trial and sentencing. He’d still be put to death most likely, but getting the whole sordid tale into the open would make things easier for Gage. Because there was no way his indiscriminate use of Collector funds and resources wasn’t going to come to light after all this.

He lowered his hand, but she could tell by the strain around his mouth he didn’t like it. “Whenever you’re ready then. I’d really like him to stop talking unless he’s going to say something useful.”

Blackwell let out another belabored sigh.

She gave Gage a nod. “Hold him.”

Behind her, the Alchemist whimpered as if he knew what was coming next. Maybe he was having a flashback. Those who’d been dusted said it felt like ants crawling through your brain on a mission to find something.

Gage latched on to Blackwell’s head.

“Say now, what are you doing?” Blackwell’s voice took on an irritated tone as he struggled to move. “What’s the meaning of this?”

He’d figure that out shortly. This was not going to be pleasant. Focus. She closed her eyes. The power began to gather in her throat. Energy poured in from every part of her body, bringing her nerves to life with the subtle tingle of a mild electrical charge. When her throat vibrated like a high note being held, she was ready. With a deep inhale, she opened her eyes, clasped Blackwell’s face and pressed her mouth to his.

He opened his cold lips in shock, exactly what she’d been counting on. She expelled the breath she’d been holding and forced the dust from her throat into his body. He writhed, trying to break free, but Gage held him fast.

Her fingertips touched Gage’s. She clung to that small comfort, because kissing Blackwell, no matter what the reason, was revolting.

The last of her dust expelled, she backed off. Her head spun, and her muscles threatened to drop her. She held on. She had to. Gage would never know if Blackwell was lying or not. “Where’s Caleb buried?” No games. She didn’t have the energy.

“In the ground.”

She slapped Blackwell, doubting it had any effect with what little strength she had left, but pain, even a slight amount, could cause him to lose his last little grip on reality and spill the truth. “Specifically. Exact directions.”

Blackwell grinned, a loopy, drugged-out smile. He was under the influence of the dust, all right, but he was still maintaining a smidgen of control. “The potter’s field where Washington Square Park now stands. Good luck finding him.”

The static of deceit made the words garbled and distant. She grabbed on to the arms of the seat for stability and looked up at Gage to confirm. “Pretty sure that was a lie.”

“It was,” Gage answered. “He took Caleb in 1827. That cemetery closed in ’25.”

She scowled at Blackwell. “Try again. The truth this time. Or I’ll let Gage kill you right now.”

Blackwell’s mouth opened and started to form a new word, then the shape of his lips changed, and he blurted out, “The basement of my brownstone.” The statement was followed by a curse.

But the words had a crystalline ring to them. She raised her head and made eye contact with Gage. “That was the truth.”

Relief erased the worry creasing his handsome face. Job done, she slumped to her knees and gave in to the energy drain.

Gage leaped over the seats and scooped Minka into his arms. Her lids flickered. “You did great, baby. You were perfect.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

“Just rest. I’ve got the heavy lifting from here on out.” He’d happily shoulder whatever came next.

“Get…Blackwell and the Alchem…ist to headquarters,” she added. Her voice was thready with exhaustion.

“I can’t promise Blackwell.”

“You have to,” she whispered.

“I can’t.” He didn’t want to argue with her. Not after all she’d done. “Rest, okay?” He carried her out the theater’s back entrance and to the Alchemist’s car. Still dark out for another hour or so. Plenty of time to turn the Alchemist in.

“Please.”

He opened the rear door and eased her into the backseat, laying her down gently. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”

She grabbed his hand, her fingers closing around his with a trembling grip. “Gage. Turn him in. There’s no…way you’ll survive this…if you don’t.”

“Babe, you need to sleep.”

She held on, staring him down.

He sighed. “I’ll turn him in if you agree to go to dinner with me.” It was dirty pool, but he didn’t care. He wanted more time with her. Time to talk about second chances. Having Blackwell in SCC custody was a small comfort. Killing him would have been better, but not if it meant losing her again.

“Good.” She let go of his hand. “Fine.” Her eyes closed, and within seconds, she was asleep.

He raced inside, a hell of a lot happier than he’d expected to be. Not only was he going to get Caleb back, but maybe Minka, too. He grabbed the duffel they’d left by the door and took it to the Alchemist. He pulled the Alchemist’s leather roll from inside and unfurled it. “Which syringe knocks him out?”

“You swear you’re going to go easy on me?”

The man really had no room to negotiate. “Yes. Which one?”

“The green one. But you’ve got to inject it into his heart.”

“Got it.” Gage slipped the correct syringe from its holding place, then ran to Blackwell, who was still showing signs of grogginess. As much as he wanted to kill the man, he knew Minka was right. There was no way they could hide their abduction, especially not once the Alchemist was turned in. And when the reason behind their imprisonment was out in the open, Gage was going to need proof of what had happened to exonerate himself. What better proof than Blackwell?

He lifted the syringe. “You better thank the pixie for this.”

Blackwell’s gaze shifted to Gage and tried to focus. “That little git best not come near me again or I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing.” Gage leaned into the man’s space. “In fact, you’re never going to touch another member of my family ever again.”

Blackwell opened his mouth, but Gage jammed the needle into his chest. Blackwell gasped. Gage shoved the plunger down, making sure the entire vial of sedative was empty.

Blackwell’s eyes rolled back, and his head fell back. Gage slapped him. No response. He yanked the syringe out and put the cap back on it. The clock had started. The sedative would last no more than an hour.

He left Blackwell to grab the duffel bag and the Alchemist, both of which required only one hand to carry, and take them out to the car.

The Alchemist whined, as expected, when Gage dropped him into the trunk. “Why are you putting me in here? No! Put me up front—”

Gage slammed the trunk and went back for Blackwell. He unlocked the chain, pulled Blackwell’s limp body off the seat, then rewrapped and secured him. Gage threw the unconscious vampire over his shoulder and headed out to the car.

He unlocked the trunk. The Alchemist squinted up at him. “You better have come back to get me out of here.”

“Nope.” Gage dumped Blackwell beside the Alchemist, who shrieked like a baby.

“What are you doing? You can’t put him with me! What if he wakes up?”

“Then I guess your sedative didn’t do its job.”

“What?” The Alchemist’s eyes went wide in fear. “That’s not fair. You can’t do this!”

“I can and I am.” Gage started to shut the trunk, then lifted it again. “Listen, if he does come to, scream as loud as you can before he tears your throat out, all right? Thanks.” He closed the trunk before the Alchemist could respond.

He slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. He’d made the drive to the Blue Moon Casino many times. Logged in the Collections. Done the paperwork. There’d be none of that this trip, at least not for him. There wasn’t time. He wasn’t even officially here, and getting into the mess of it now wasn’t happening.

He pulled onto the freeway, put the sedan in cruise and pulled out his phone to dial an old number. It rang three times.

“Gage Hudson?”

“Hello, Romero.” At least his former handler remembered him.

“Funny you should call. I guess you heard the news.”

Gage wasn’t sure what the man was talking about. “I don’t think I have.”

“I hate to tell you this, but Minka Winslow’s gone missing.”

“No, she’s not. She’s with me.” It was unlikely the Gotham branch had reported him as missing. He hadn’t been on a job, and it wasn’t that unusual for him to take several days off with little word. Although if they’d tried to reach him…he realized Romero hadn’t said anything. “It’s not what you’re thinking. We got ambushed, but we’re fine now. It’s a long, complicated story.”

“I’m sure it is. Why don’t you try explaining anyway?”

“I’m twenty minutes away. I’m about to dump two unofficial Collections on your doorstep. One’s the Alchemist.”

“He’s on our fugitive list.”

“Not anymore.”

“How’d you end up with him?”

“He’s the one who ambushed us.”

“Damn. Lemme guess. Payback for his wife’s death?”

“Jackpot. The other Collection is a little more personal. Spenser Blackwell. He’s been holding my brother hostage for almost two hundred years. He was bankrolling the Alchemist and would have killed Minka and me if his plan had succeeded.”

Romero whistled. “You two sure know how to make friends. Any word on your brother’s location?”

“Yes. Which is why I need transportation back to New York ready and waiting.”

“Minka going with you?”

“I’d like her to. You okay with that?”

“Fine with me. We’ll talk more when this is all said and done, yes?”

“Yes.” Gage heard Romero speaking to someone else, then a few clacks of a keyboard.

“Freight entrance is ready to receive your packages. I have a car waiting to take you to the airport and a jet that will get you to LaGuardia. Anything else?”

“Just my thanks.”

Romero cleared his throat. “It’s not entirely my place to say this, but I’m saying it anyway. You just about killed that woman when you left.”

“I had my reasons.” Reasons he’d be able to explain to Romero and the rest of the higher-ups very soon.

“I’m sure you did. But break her heart again, and you’ll have me to deal with. Understood?”

Gage smiled at the man’s protectiveness. It was good to know someone was watching out for her. “Understood. I will not screw this up twice.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror at Minka’s sleeping form. So long as she gave him that second chance.

Minka woke up strapped into an airplane seat. “What’s going on?”

“We’re on a jet to New York,” Gage answered. He lounged in the seat beside her. All the shades were pulled down. “How do you feel?”

“Not as bad as I expected. How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours. We’ll be landing soon.”

She straightened and did the math. “It’s daylight. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Too much to do. We’ll have time to sleep when we get in. No point in hitting Blackwell’s place until after dark anyway. Besides, I have supplies to get. Waking up a vampire who’s been entombed this long…” He shook his head. “It’s a major job.”

“You need blood,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Not only do I have to be well fed, but I have to go in with enough to bring him back to consciousness.” He put his hand on Minka’s arm. “I assumed you’d want to come with me after what you said about finishing this together. If I was wrong about that, I’ll put you on a flight right back to Vegas as soon as we land.”

“No. That was the right decision. I want to help.” The truth was, she wanted to be with him. She’d enjoyed having him at her side again. Being a team. She’d missed it more than she’d realized.

He smiled, then his expression went back to serious. “I’ll have to bring in a few of the other Gotham City Collectors. This isn’t a job you and I can do by ourselves.”

“I’m cool with that.”

“You’re going to have to hang back when we bring him around. He’ll be ravenous. Possibly feral.”

“I get it. You don’t want me to be his first meal.”

Gage looked into her eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It’s your show. I’ll do whatever you say.” She glanced around the plane. No sign of Blackwell. She cringed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t see Blackwell. Did you kill him?”

Gage smiled and shook his head. “He and the Alchemist are currently in Romero’s capable hands.”

“Really? I thought for sure—I’m really glad you turned him over.”

“Well, you promised you’d go out with me if I did. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“What?” She blinked at him. “I don’t remember…wait a minute. Actually, I do remember that.” She bit her bottom lip. “I guess I have to go through with it now.”

“Damn right you have to go through with it.”

“Aren’t you going to be busy with Caleb?”

“Yes, but once we get him out of there, he’s not going to do much for a couple days but feed and heal.” Gage traced the curves of her knuckles with his index finger. “You and I will have plenty of time for that dinner. And to get reacquainted.”

The intercom clicked on, saving her from replying. “Please prepare for landing.”

She tugged at her seat belt, making sure it was secure. “How are you going to deal with the sun being out? I don’t think cabs have UV-proof tinting on the windows.”

He grinned and settled back in his seat. “It’s all taken care of. You’ll see.”

They stayed quiet until the plane landed and pulled into a private hangar. The pilot came back on to give them the all clear. The lone flight attendant, an SCC employee with a little fae in her judging by the shape of her ears, opened the door and connected the rolling steps.

Minka climbed down and admired the sleek limo waiting for them. She turned to Gage as he was descending. “I see what you meant by taken care of. Nice ride.”

A driver jumped out to greet them, a small, mustached man in a suit and cap. He had the swarthy complexion and blocky muscular build of one of the earthier types of supes. He grinned broadly. “Ma’am, Mr. Hudson.”

Gage answered him. “Hey, Franco. Thanks for meeting us. I’ve got the door.”

“No problem, Mr. Hudson.” Franco got back in the limo.

Gage laughed as he came up behind her. “What did you think? We were going home by bus? New York isn’t any less sophisticated than Vegas. We might actually have you beat in that department. We’re less flash, more class.”

“Whatever.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “I thought maybe we’d take some kind of shuttle to the terminal, then stick to the subway system.”

“Speaking of, in the last year the GCC has improved on that method of transportation.”

She shrugged. “A subway is a subway. How much better can it get?”

“A lot.” He opened the limo door. “The Dark Line is a rather exceptional achievement.”

She got in and waited for him to join her. “What’s the Dark Line?”

“It’s a completely separate system that uses abandoned tunnels and tracks, but is run and maintained by the GCC. It’s a supes-only line.”

“Okay, that I’d like to see.”

“That can be arranged.” He winked at her.

The glass divider slid down, and the driver turned around to speak to them. “Where can I take you, Mr. Hudson?”

“My house.” Gage gestured toward Minka. “Franco, meet Minka Winslow, Sin City Collector and the world’s most beautiful pixie. Minka, this is Franco Sartucci, Gotham City Collector and the best getaway man and troll you could ever want on a job.”

Franco tipped his hat. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Winslow.”

Troll, of course. “You, too, Mr. Sartucci.” She couldn’t help but smile at Gage’s most beautiful comment, even though she wasn’t one to be swayed by such over-the-top compliments.

Franco shrugged. “Franco, please.” He grinned. “I’ll have you to your brownstone soon as I can, Mr. Hudson.”

Gage nodded. “Soon is good. Fast is better.”

Franco laughed as the divider slid back up. “Is there any other way?”

Gage settled into his seat with a sigh. “I’m beat.”

“Sleep if you want.” She resisted the urge to touch his leg. “I know it’s hard not to when the sun is up. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

“You don’t mind?”

“You let me sleep on the plane, didn’t you? No, I don’t mind a bit.”

“Thanks.” He tipped his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

Daysleep for a vampire happened quickly. There was no snoring, no soft rise and fall of the chest, just the sudden cessation of all movement. It was like he’d gone to stone. She was used to it now, but when they’d first gotten together, it had freaked her out. Made her feel like she was sleeping next to a corpse. After learning how fast he could come out of that deep, motionless sleep when threatened, it stopped bothering her.

But it hadn’t stopped her from becoming a little protective of him when he was like this. It was his most vulnerable state. Because of that, very few vampires ever let anyone around them during daysleep. His willingness to succumb to it around her was a sign of trust.

Trust she didn’t know if she could return. She turned her head and watched the city go past, losing herself in the argument of whether or not to give him a chance to redeem himself, until Franco pulled into the alley behind Gage’s brownstone.

Memories came flooding back. She hadn’t been here in so long, but it all looked the same. The last time she’d been in this house, they’d been a couple. In love. With not a hint of trouble ahead. Except, even then he’d been keeping the secret of Blackwell from her.

Nothing about this situation was easy.

She put a hand on his knee and shook it to wake him. “We’re here.”

His eyes flickered open. “That was fast.”

“You did tell Franco fast was better.”

They said good-bye to Franco and ran for the door, even though there was enough shade in the alley for them to get into the house without Gage having any issues.

Once inside, Gage switched on a few lights in the otherwise dark interior. “Is this weird?”

“Being here?” Being surrounded by his things, his scent. Their memories.

He nodded.

“Yes. A little.” She shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.” It kind of was, actually. “I’m fine.” For a pixie, she was becoming rather good at keeping her true feelings inside. “You going to crash?”

He made a face she couldn’t quite read. “Yeah, after a quick shower. You…need anything?”

She plucked at her bloodstained tank top. “Same. A shower. But I know where everything is.”

He smiled sadly. Or maybe he was just tired, and she was reading too much into it. “Yeah, I guess you do.” He started up the stairs to his bedroom, then paused. “I moved your stuff into the spare room. Otherwise, everything’s in the same place.”

“I didn’t realize I’d left anything here.” But of course she had. They’d come here for weekends now and then. Enough time that she’d kept a few things here to make impromptu trips easier. And he’d kept them. Maybe not in his room, but still in his house. “Thanks.” She pointed toward the kitchen. “You have anything to eat?”

“There’s at least cheese and crackers. Probably olives. I always have that much. You can order something if you want.”

“I’ll rummage.” She hesitated. “Do you want to feed now or before we go to Blackwell’s?”

“Before. I’ll be up in plenty of time to get ready. I’ll send a few texts now to Collectors I know will be willing to back me up, but everything else I’ll handle after I get up.” With that, he headed upstairs.

She walked into the kitchen, her mind going in a hundred different directions. Her stuff was still here. She opened the fridge. Half a jar of olives. Some kind of preserves. And a single block of cheese with enough mold that it didn’t look intentional.

If he was entertaining other women, wouldn’t there be food here? And wouldn’t they wonder about another woman’s clothes and toiletries, even if they were kept in another room? There wasn’t a single sign of another woman either. Not an empty bottle of wine in the recycling, not a note card saying thanks for the great evening, not a forgotten-on-purpose earring in the catchall bowl by the entry.

Was it possible he wasn’t seeing anyone else? Or maybe he was just having a dry spell. Or too busy trying to find his brother. She went with that as she checked the pantry. The crackers were expired, but she found a bar of chocolate behind the box. Good enough. She ate it on the way upstairs.

The master bath had a big, luxurious shower, but she wasn’t about to go into his bedroom. The other bathroom was fine. She ate the last of the chocolate as she cranked on the water. After it steamed up, she shed her clothes and climbed in.

Hot water had never felt so freaking amazing. She stayed in a little too long, finally hopping out to wrap herself in one of Gage’s thick white towels. She towel-dried her hair, then wiped the fog from the mirror and looked at herself.

What the hell was she going to do about Gage?

The bottom line was she still loved him. She could forgive what he’d done to her now that she knew the circumstances. But could she ever trust him again?

With a sigh, she scooped up her discarded clothes and headed for the spare room to get dressed.

The door to Gage’s room was only a few feet away. She crept forward and put her hand to the door. It wasn’t fully closed. She nudged it open half an inch. Enough to see him in the dim light from the hall fixture.

Her heart constricted at how beautiful he was. The sheets were tangled about his waist, revealing his bare chest. The remainder of him was probably equally undressed if he still slept the way she remembered. One arm rested above his head, making his body look like a mile-wide stretch of muscle. She pushed the door open a little farther.

Her soul ached with how much she’d missed him. Hating him had hurt just as much as him leaving her. Being in his house was like stepping back in time to when everything had been so, so right between them. It was too much—the sight of him, the memories of what they’d once been and the painfully raw hope of what they could be again. Longing erased her better judgment. She was about to do something incredibly stupid, and she didn’t care.

She padded softly across the floor, dropped her towel and climbed into bed next to him.

Gage came awake the instant the mattress moved, but didn’t budge, didn’t open his eyes, didn’t shift. Nothing that might disturb Minka and make her change her mind. She curled up next to him with her head on the crook of his arm. In a few minutes, she was asleep.

Only then did he open his eyes. She’d left the hall light on. Enough of it spilled into the room so that when he turned his head a fraction, he could see her. Blond hair spilled across his arm. Her face was downturned, her eyes closed so that the curves of her lashes just shadowed her cheeks.

The clean scent of soap surrounded her. His fangs ached, not with the desire to feed, but with the need to possess her. The rest of his body followed, awakening to her presence as though he still had a right to her. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that her presence in his bed gave him any kind of permission.

She shifted, her lips parting slightly to let out a soft sigh. Was she dreaming of him? The sheet slipped off her shoulder. He already knew from the parts of her pressed against him that she wore exactly the same thing he did.

Nothing.

He straightened his neck and stared at the ceiling. She’d gotten into bed with him and fallen asleep. She hadn’t woken him up, hadn’t made any request of him. She probably just hadn’t wanted to be alone.

No matter her reasons, she damn sure wasn’t his anymore.

He’d done plenty to make certain of that.

What had motivated her to get into bed with him? Fear? She’d drifted off too easily. Old times’ sake? She wasn’t the nostalgic kind. He hadn’t really thought there was a chance for them. Until this moment.

Whatever her reason, he wasn’t going to do anything to make her leave. If she wanted something more from him, that move was up to her. Although once she made it, he’d be happy to take things from there.

He fell back into daysleep with a grin on his face, a fantasy in his head and a soul-deep longing in his heart.

As Gage woke, he stretched out his hand in search of Minka, but didn’t find her. He opened his eyes and pushed to his elbows. He was alone in the bed. Had he dreamed that she’d joined him here? Her scent lingered, so he doubted it.

Based on the coffee he also smelled, she was awake, too.

He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and checked his messages. To the man, every Collector he’d called on was coming to help. He sent them a quick text back, then a longer, private one to Sergei, his GCC manager. The Russian was a much older vampire and the one who’d sired him, Caleb and Blackwell. Sergei would know exactly what it would take to bring Caleb back. His help would be invaluable.

Gage threw on a clean pair of jeans and jogged downstairs. He found Minka in the den on his computer, sipping from a large cup of takeout coffee. She wore one of his T-shirts, her bare legs crossed beneath her, and her hair was wrapped in a messy knot held in place by two pencils. He couldn’t imagine her looking any sexier than she did in that moment.

He leaned against the doorframe and enjoyed the view for a moment before he spoke. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She gave him a quick glance, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary on his bare chest before going back to the computer screen. She set her coffee down. “You sleep okay?”

Now she was just toying with him. He went along with it. “Great. I had the most incredible dream.”

“Did you?” Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

“Yes.” He strolled forward to sit on the edge of the massive mahogany desk. “I dreamed a beautiful woman slipped into bed with me.”

She kept her eyes on the computer, but her mouth made a little shape that meant she was pretending not to be interested. She had been in bed with him, she just didn’t want him to know about it, which was why she’d left before he’d woken up. She sighed like she was bored. “Sounds like a pretty typical male dream.”

Two could play this game. He sighed with longing. “This wasn’t just any dream. This woman was…amazing.”

“That so.”

“Skin like sweet cream. The kind that makes a man’s mouth water.” Her cheeks showed a hint of color. He continued, “And the most perfect ripe strawberry of a mouth.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you start reading romance novels in the last two years? Or cookbooks?”

He decided to go in for the kill. “And her hair. She had this glorious mane, soft and silky.” He drew his fingers across the span of wood between her and the computer. “And the color of this desk.”

“What?” That got her to look at him.

He laughed so hard he couldn’t speak for a moment.

“You’re awful, you know that?” She swatted him with a nearby magazine, then tossed it on the desk and picked her coffee back up. “And your hospitality sucks. I had to go out and get this.”

“I hope not dressed like that.” If she had, he wouldn’t be surprised to find men camped out on his doorstep. “If I had known you were coming back with me, I would have stocked up on all your favorites.”

“No, not dressed like this. I had jeans on.” She frowned. “You know I got into bed with you, huh?”

“Do you honestly think you can put your naked body next to mine and not have me know about it?” He clutched at his heart. “I’m wounded.”

She huffed out a breath. “I knew it was a dumb move.”

“It wasn’t dumb. But it was telling.” He reached out and tugged at a loose strand of blond that had escaped her knot. “It doesn’t feel like we’re done, Minka. There’s too much chemistry left between us.”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Gage. I don’t know if I can trust you again.”

He’d planned on having this conversation at their impending dinner, but now was as good a time as any. “At least give me a second chance. Let me earn back your trust.”

She put her coffee down. “I don’t do second chances.”

“I know.” That didn’t feel like the end of her answer, though. “But?”

She took a deep breath and let it out before she answered him. “But I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She held a hand up. “I just need a little more time to think about it.”

That was good enough for him. He wanted to whoop. Instead, he sat there stoically and nodded. “That’s all I’m asking for.” Hot damn. “What are you working on there?”

“Snooping on you.”

Had to love a pixie’s blatant honesty. “Really. Find anything interesting?”

“Yes. I looked up a few donor sites. You know the kind where they send a live donor to your house?”

“I’m familiar, yes.”

She sat back in the chair and clasped her hands in her lap. “You know what’s interesting?”

Besides the fact that they were getting back together? What else mattered? “Why don’t you tell me?”

“I’m on your computer, but not a single site I went to recognized me. I mean you. Not a single log-in.” She stretched her legs out on the desk, distracting him for a moment with the tease of skin. “And this house. There’s not a trace of a woman being here. What’s up?”

“I don’t use the donor sites. I have a subscription service that delivers what I need right to the house once a week.”

Her brows furrowed. “You’re on bagged stuff? But live donors are better.”

He nodded. “They are, but sometimes they get attached. Especially if you use the same one more than once. It’s not worth the risk.” He put his hand on her ankle, enjoying the delicious warmth of her skin. “As for the house, it looks like there hasn’t been a woman here, other than you, because there hasn’t been.”

“Dry spell, huh?”

It tickled him that she was so interested in his romantic life. “As the Sahara. By choice.”

“Why’s that?”

“You know why, Minka.”

She held his eye contact, narrowing her gaze slightly. “Tell me.”

“Because you’re the only woman I want in this house and in my life.”

She stood up and faced him, fitting perfectly between his knees. The light in her eyes flickered between hope and pain. “You listen to me, Gage Hudson. If we do this—and it’s still an if—and you break my heart again, I will kill you.”

He settled his hands on her hips. “I know.” He pulled her closer and kissed her the way he’d been craving for the last two years. Slow and easy, tasting her mouth, teasing his tongue against hers. Savoring every detail of her.

She resisted for a second, then relaxed and started kissing him back. Her heartbeat quickened, and her hands alighted on his chest. They traced upward until her fingers wove into his hair.

Her touch sent a tingle down his spine and into his belly.

She was more delectable than he remembered, softer and sweeter, and the fire she ignited in him burned brighter than it ever had. His hands skimmed down her body to cup her firm backside, but he didn’t dare go further. He had a team of Collectors coming over, and there was too much work ahead of them to contemplate taking her to bed now. And when that did happen, it wasn’t going to be a quickie. Hell no.

He eased out of the kiss and grinned. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Her smile was wary, but he’d take it.

He tipped his forehead against hers. “I know you have your reservations. I’m okay with that. We’ll take it slow. Get to know each other again. I want you to trust me.”

She nodded. “I want that, too.” She kissed him once more, a short press of her lips to his, like she was sealing the deal. “You need to feed. Then we need to find your brother.” She stepped back. “This is your mission. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

He slid off the desk. “I appreciate that. As I mentioned, I’ve called in some help. Collectors I trust implicitly. They’ll be here soon, but yes, I do need to feed. I’ll go do that now and then we can—”

She frowned. “What do you mean you’ll go do that now? How are you going to feed without me?”

“I have bagged supplies in cold storage. You’ve been through enough.”

Her hands went to her hips. “Um, I’ll be the one to decide when I’ve had enough of you biting me. And you’re not about to go the bagged route when I’m here and willing.”

He hesitated. “You’re sure?” Obviously, she was his preference, but he had no desire to tax her system.

Her brows quirked up as she gave him a very come-hither look. “Don’t I look sure?”

It wasn’t an invitation he was willing to ignore. “I’d say you look pretty damn sure to me.” He lifted her into his arms without warning, eliciting a little shriek of surprise from her as he carried her into the living room and sat down on the couch with her.

Minka wrapped her arms around Gage’s neck as she settled into his lap. She still had doubts about him, but he was already eroding them. “You really haven’t changed.”

“I’m a vampire. We get into a rut every hundred years or so.”

To think he hadn’t been with a single woman since they’d broken up. It was flattering. And sweet. And so unexpected for a guy with Gage’s…appetites. “So I’m a rut, am I?” she teased.

His eyes rounded. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

She laughed. “I know what you meant.” She held up her arm. “Wrist or neck?”

“You have a preference?”

Inner thigh, but this was neither the time nor the place. “Neck is fine. So long as you’re gentle.”

He frowned. “You know the last time was a special case. I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” She scraped her fingertips over the stubble on his cheek. “But I also love giving you a hard time.”

His eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Speaking of hard times, maybe when we get back—”

She put a finger on his lips. “There’s the Gage I remember.” She laughed. “You said we were going to take things slow.”

“Slow is a relative term.” He smiled, showing off his fangs. “Ready?”

She nodded.

He picked her up just enough to slide her down the couch so that she could rest her head on the upholstered arm, then he kissed the hollow of her throat. He worked up from there, trailing tiny kisses along her neck until he reached her ear. His breath raised goose bumps on her flesh.

She purred with pleasure and arched up to meet him. No need to pretend she wasn’t affected by him anymore.

“I adore you,” he whispered against her skin. He nipped at her earlobe, causing her to shiver a second time.

His fangs scraped her neck, then sank into her. There was no pain, only the rush of lightheaded euphoria that lifted her into a rare space. He made a sound deep in his throat that was a mix of hunger, pleasure and barely controlled desire.

The tug of his mouth on her skin shot jolts of need through her, into her bones, into her core. She dug her fingers into his hair, wanting more of him but knowing her desire for him was, in part, being fueled by the aphrodisiac of his pointed kiss.

Waves of pleasure rippled through her as he continued. She bit her lip, on the verge of crying out, when his mouth left her skin. One last tease of his tongue, and he broke contact.

He kept his head bent against her neck for a moment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She exhaled as the pleasure ebbed and stretched her arms over her head, languishing in the afterglow. “You didn’t take much.”

“I took enough.” He sat back. His lids were heavy with bliss. “That’s the third time in as many days that I’ve fed. I could go a week now.” He tipped his head to look at her, a little sadness in his eyes. “I hate to ruin the moment, but the sun’s down. That means we’ve only got a few more minutes until my friends get here.”

She scooted to a sitting position. “No problem. I’ll run upstairs and get dressed. Nothing matters now but getting Caleb back.”

“I’ll go with you. I need to get dressed for the task ahead, too.”

She hopped up and took off running. “Race you!”

“Hey!” He caught up to her then passed her, but stood waiting by the bedroom door when she arrived a few seconds after him. “What did I win?”

“The chance to take me out to dinner.” Laughing, she sailed into the spare room and shut the door.

Gage was headed into his office when the door chime sounded. He changed direction and went into the foyer instead. He opened the door and greeted the three other Collectors he’d called upon. Sergei Petrov, Adrian Dunn and Kord Wolfram. “Gentlemen.”

“Hudson.” Sergei embraced Gage, kissing him on both cheeks. “You are well, da?”

“Well enough,” Gage answered.

“Is good.” With a nod, Sergei headed into the house.

Adrian and Kord greeted Gage with a tip of their heads as they followed Sergei in. The three of them were the most dangerous Collectors he knew. They were also the good guys and more trustworthy than anyone else he knew outside of Minka.

He joined them in the living room. They all took seats, then he began. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. As I said in my text, I’ve found my brother.”

Kord frowned. “I thought he was dead.”

“So did I,” Gage answered.

Sergei nodded. Light gleamed off the man’s shaved head. “You will tell them what you have told me.”

It wasn’t a question. Gage gave them the CliffsNotes, filling them in on Blackwell, the bad blood between them, how he’d kidnapped Caleb and let Gage think his brother was dead. Then he explained how all that changed in Vegas and what he now knew to be true about his brother, including Blackwell’s confession about Caleb’s location.

Sergei grunted in disgust. “I should not have turned Blackwell. He is my one regret. If I find him…” Sergei slit his finger across his throat.

“He’s already been dealt with. I turned him over to the Vegas branch. Or I would have killed him myself.” That seemed to satisfy Sergei. Gage continued, “As you can imagine, I’ve never unearthed a vampire who’s been starved as long as Caleb has been.” He looked at Sergei. “I’m hoping you have some insight on that.”

Sergei thought for a moment. “Is not an easy task. He will be wild. Desperate for blood. You understand this?”

“I do. That’s why I called you three in. I doubt I’d be able to handle him myself.” Not and protect Minka at the same time. He’d thought about asking her to stay behind, but knew she’d want to come. She deserved to be there if she wanted to be. She was the whole reason Caleb was getting rescued.

Sergei nodded. “You will need much blood from a strong source—ah, I see you have already thought of this.” His gaze shifted to a point over Gage’s shoulder.

“What?” Gage turned to see Minka walk in. He whipped back around. “Oh, hell no.”

“Hell no what?” Minka stopped at his side.

“We need live blood donor for Gage’s brother,” Sergei answered. “I assume this is why you are here. No?”

“No, that’s not why she’s here,” Gage said. The idea that he’d subject Minka to such a thing was ludicrous. He stared at Sergei. “Are you saying that blood from a live donor is the only way to bring Caleb back?”

Sergei made an unhappy face. “Nyet. But is only way to restore him without him becoming permanent monster.”

Gage cursed.

Kord shrugged. “Why can’t we do it?”

Sergei’s brows lifted in disbelief. “Shifter blood? Nyet.” He pointed at Adrian. “Not your mixed blood either.”

Adrian held his hands up. “Good, because I’d rather not get bitten today, thanks.”

Sergei looked back at Gage. “Donor must be full-blooded. After that, bag blood okay. Not favorite, but okay.”

“I’m full-blooded,” Minka offered. She took Gage’s hand. “I can do this.”

“You just gave me blood.”

She shrugged. “So? I’ll give some more. And you’re going to be there to protect me, so you won’t let him take too much, right?”

“That’s not the point—”

She crossed her arms. “Are you going to introduce me or what?”

“Yes, sorry. These are the Gotham City Collectors I called in.” He pointed to them. “Sergei, Adrian and Kord. This is Minka Winslow. She’s a Sin City Collector.”

“And a full-blooded pixie,” she added.

“Who will not be the donor.” Gage glared at her.

Kord spoke up. “You have another possibility on speed dial?”

Minka cut her eyes at Gage. “He has a point.” She took his hand again. “This is your brother we’re talking about. The longer we sit here debating this, the longer he stays trapped in that coffin.”

She was right. He knew that. Didn’t change his mind. “No.”

“Yes.” She wore her stubbornness like it was impenetrable armor.

“You have no idea what you’re volunteering for.” He stood over her, anger and love battling it out in his gut. Anger at Blackwell, anger at her for being so obstinate, love for her for insisting on helping, love for his brother. There was no right answer here.

“I have some idea. I know it’s not going to be…pleasant.”

“Pleasant? It’s going to be one of the worst things you’ve ever been a part of.” He glanced at Sergei. “Am I right?”

“Da.” Sergei nodded his head thoughtfully. “He is starved. A monster. It will be painful. Frightening. But the pixie looks like brave woman to me.”

“You have no idea.” She hooked her thumb toward Gage. “I just agreed to date this guy again, so brave and probably crazy.”

Sergei smiled. “Very good.” He looked at Gage. “Good?”

Gage muttered a curse at the ceiling, knowing he was beaten. That didn’t stop him from hating that she was going to be in danger again because of him. “Fine.” He pushed to his feet. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.” He grabbed Minka’s hand as the other men headed to the door. “I appreciate you being so willing, but I don’t like it.”

“I picked up on that.” She squeezed his hand. “But this is your brother we’re talking about.”

“I understand, but brother or not, he’s been deprived of blood so long that he will be…” The idea of what Caleb had become was too much for him to put into words.

“I know, Gage.” Her voice was soft and comforting. “I expect it to be hard and scary and awful, but I’m not a delicate flower. And you have no other choice if you want to save him. Just protect me. That’s all I ask.”

“You know I will.” If he had to make a choice between Caleb and Minka again, he knew exactly how he would decide. She would not suffer at his hands again.

She linked her arm through his, her expression determined if not a little fearful. “Let’s go bring your brother home.”

Traveling to Blackwell’s brownstone was a simple jaunt on the regular subway, but Gage reassured her they’d be returning home via the Dark Line. At that point in the evening, she wasn’t sure if she’d be capable of enjoying it.

She’d made the decision to be Caleb’s donor rashly, but with good reason. It was important to Gage. She understood the danger—this wasn’t her first time around a vampire. Granted, not one who’d been starved this long, but Gage would protect her. She had faith in him. There was no other option if they were going to be together.

She had to be able to trust him again. Had to know he wouldn’t leave her again. Her heart couldn’t take that kind of pain twice in her life. Being Caleb’s donor was taking a step toward all that. A way of proving to herself that she and Gage were solid again. That her worries were unfounded.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves and keep her heart from racing out of her chest. Truth was, she was scared to death of being Caleb’s donor, but she wasn’t going to let Gage know that. He had enough to worry about right now.

Gage squeezed her hand and smiled down at her. She smiled back, then leaned against him to hide her face. Faking anything was difficult for her.

The conductor announced the next stop.

“That’s us,” Gage said.

She nodded. The passengers around them were giving Gage and his crew a wide berth, and for a moment, she saw the group with fresh eyes. Each one of them, herself included, wore a leather jacket, some with studs, some with chains. The men all wore tactical pants and boots, making them look like some kind of ex-military operation.

Sergei’s left boot had a knife handle sticking out of it, which probably wasn’t legal, but who was going to argue that with a six-foot tall, 220-pound, tattooed Russian with a shaved head?

Kord’s leather jacket was covered in military and biker patches. Adrian’s jacket was plain, but scarred with the evidence of a few fights. Both of them carried black duffels that held fold-up shovels and other tools, plus clothes for Caleb should everything go as planned.

And then there was Gage, whose height and build were enough to make him intimidating, but his ice-blue eyes contrasted with his jet hair to give him a piercing stare. The backpack slung over one shoulder held all the blood Gage had had in his cold storage. She knew once her blood brought Caleb out of hibernation and restored him to a functioning level, Gage planned on pulling her away and feeding Caleb the bagged stuff since Sergei had okayed it.

She hoped that’s exactly how it went down. The idea of being drained completely was…not good. Gage wouldn’t let it get to that point, but how long would he let it go? He knew what her limits were, didn’t he? Listening to her heartbeat should clue him in to how she was doing. She hoped. What if he didn’t cut Caleb off in time? What if…no. She had to stop thinking like that. As much as she loved him, because she did still love him, she had to also be able to trust him again or there was no point in attempting to fix things.

The car sighed to a stop, and the doors slid open. Gage held her hand tightly as the crew exited. Eyes followed them, and when she glanced back, it seemed that the passengers remaining on the car had all let out a breath.

No wonder the GCC wanted its own method of transportation.

They walked a few blocks into a beautiful, brownstone neighborhood lined with mature trees and expensive cars. Most of the homes had lights on, including the one they were approaching.

She glanced up at the gorgeous old home. “Are you sure there’s no one here?”

Gage nodded. “Adrian did some recon before he came over. The house has been empty for years. It’s one of three that Blackwell owns, but he never uses this one.”

“Maybe the guilt is too much.”

“Nice thought, but I doubt the man has ever felt that emotion.”

The group came to halt on the sidewalk, and Adrian jogged up the steps. He slipped some tools from his pocket and went to work on the lock. Half a minute later, the door was open. He tipped his head toward the inside, a sign for the others to follow.

Kord came in last and shut the door.

Adrian was already working on the alarm. He snipped a wire, then twisted it onto another one. The alarm gave a double beep, then the light panel flashed off. He faced the group. “Done. According to the blueprints, stairs to the basement are in the back.”

Gage led the way. The house’s pretty exterior was just a show. Inside, the wood floors needed refinishing, and the walls were dingy. The house was unfurnished except for a floor lamp here or there, all on timers, and sheer curtains that allowed light in but kept prying eyes from seeing anything.

There were two doors in the kitchen, a good-sized space but one still plagued by the avocado green of the seventies. She hung close to Gage as he opened the door on the inside wall. A musty, earthy smell wafted into the room. Rough wood stairs led down into the dark.

He slid his hand up the side of the wall and flicked the switch. It turned on a single, cobweb-covered bulb dangling from a cord at the bottom of the steps. The landing was a small pad of concrete, but the rest of the basement had a packed dirt floor.

Minka peered in. “That’s not creepy at all.”

Gage turned to her. “Let us go first.”

Sergei was halfway down before she could answer. He paused to nod. “We dig him up. Then you come.”

Kord followed with Adrian behind him.

She shooed Gage toward the door. “Go ahead. The quicker you find him, the quicker we can get out of here.”

“True. You okay?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I? Go.”

“You can still back out if you want to. Won’t change anything about what I feel for you. My love is not conditional on the life of my brother.”

She nodded, a strange heat in her eyes. “I know. Thank you. I’m still in.”

He gave her hand a squeeze, swallowed hard then went after the others.

The kitchen seemed cavernous with the sudden lack of testosterone. She waited, listening to the muted voices of the men below. Curiosity got the best of her. She inched down a few steps, then sat on one and looked through the railing.

The basement ran the length of the house, or appeared to, being both long and narrow. There were no other lights but the one dangling bulb, but the men had brought flashlights. She went down one more step so she could stick her head through the railing and see to the back of the space where the men were. Gage, Sergei and Adrian were walking the length of the basement slowly with a—her mouth fell open. She blinked to make sure she was really seeing what she thought she was.

They were following a massive wolf.

She hissed at Gage to get his attention. As soon as he looked at her, she pointed furiously at the animal. “Kord?”

“Yes,” he answered her, telling her what she already knew.

The wolf looked at Gage. Sweet little Red Riding Hood, Kord was enormous in that form.

Gage seemed to understand his question. “You caught Minka off guard.”

The wolf gazed up at Minka, let out a soft woof and went back to sniffing the ground.

Sergei’s words about shifter blood came back to her. Of course. Kord was a werewolf.

“He’s trying to sniff out where Caleb might be,” Gage added. Then he shot her a look. “Nice job staying upstairs, by the way.”

Before she could respond, Kord started growling and pawing the ground.

“Here we go,” Gage said.

The other men whipped out the shovels and started digging. Kord trotted back to the dark recesses of the basement, disappearing into the shadows. He walked out a minute later, looking exactly like he had the first time she’d met him. Two-legged.

He smiled at her. “Sorry if I freaked you out. Did you not sense I was a shifter?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t that you’re a shifter. Sergei mentioned that. I’ve just never seen a wolf your size before.”

He nodded. “One of my great-great-grandfathers was a hellhound. We’ve been a little on the large size ever since.”

“I’d say.”

Kord grabbed a shovel and joined the other men in the digging.

And dig they did, throwing dirt into the back of the space while the hole grew wider and deeper. Jackets were shed. T-shirts sweated through. And still the digging continued.

The men were shoulder deep, and not a sign of anything other than dirt. Her heart ached for Gage. The longing on his face was plain. Every time he glanced at her, she smiled, not wanting him to see any discouragement in her expression.

She thought back to Blackwell’s confession. There was no way he’d lied that second time. Was there? She started to doubt her own abilities. What if she’d lost her touch? What if dusting two people so close together made things go wonky? What if—

The solid clunk of a shovel hitting something unyielding rang through the space.

They’d found Caleb.

In a matter of minutes, Gage and the other Collectors had the outline of a rough-hewn coffin cleared away. The top had long narrow cuts in it, maybe from the shovels chiseling away at it. He held a hand out for them to stop. “That’s good enough. We only need to get the top off.”

“What are those?” Minka pointed at the cuts.

Gage bent and ran his fingers over them, realizing a second later what they were. “Marks Caleb made trying to dig his way out.”

She covered her mouth in horror.

Rage at Blackwell slammed into Gage with such force that his vision wavered for a moment, then he got control of himself. Caleb needed him. Minka needed him. “Let’s get everything set up before we open it.”

Sergei grabbed a crowbar from one of the bags, then pointed at Kord. “We stand at the front. Hold him down after he wakes.”

Kord moved into position.

“Where do you want me?” Adrian asked.

Gage answered him. “At my side. If something unexpected happens, I have to get Minka out of here. If he’s too much for Sergei and Kord to hold, you’re the last line of defense.”

Adrian nodded. “He won’t get through me.”

“It won’t come to that,” Kord said.

“No, it won’t.” Gage looked at Minka as he spoke. “It’s all going to go smoothly.”

She nodded but said nothing.

Gage could almost smell the fear coming off her, so the fact that she was still standing there was astonishing, but that was the woman he loved. Five feet, four inches of backbone and courage.

Sergei jammed the crowbar under the coffin’s lid. Gage held his hand up. “Wait.” Sergei straightened and pulled the crowbar out. Gage looked at Minka. She deserved one last out. “You don’t have to do this.”

She walked down the rest of the stairs. “Yes, I do.” She managed a smile. “Tell me step by step what’s going to happen.”

Gage berated himself for not doing that already. “Sergei and Kord will get the lid off the coffin.” He looked at Sergei. “You should take it from here. I’ve never done this before.”

Sergei leaned the crowbar on his shoulder. “Once lid is off, we need your blood. Small cut to wrist, then you drip blood in Caleb’s mouth. He will start to awaken.” Sergei’s gaze flicked to Gage for a moment before he continued. “Most likely, he will bite then.”

“And it will hurt.” She said the words in such a monotone way, Gage wondered if she was really that calm or on the verge of losing it. Then her mouth bent into a resigned half smile, and she nodded. “I can deal with pain. What next?”

Sergei shrugged. “He will drink until he is made whole then—”

“No,” Gage interrupted. “That’s too much. Once he’s gained some strength, Minka’s done, and we start feeding him the bags.”

Before Sergei could say anything else, Minka spoke. “Let’s do this. Waiting isn’t making it easier.”

Gage nodded. If she was ready, so was he. “You heard her. Let’s go.”

Sergei went back to work with the crowbar as Minka came to stand at Gage’s side. He took her hand and squeezed it. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

“Thanks.” The little half smile appeared again for a few seconds, then it was gone, and her gaze returned to the coffin.

The crack of splitting wood accompanied the coffin’s lid being pried loose. Sergei and Kord lifted it off. Sergei swore in Russian, and Kord shook his head.

Gage’s gut clenched in sorrow. He couldn’t believe the body in the coffin was his baby brother. Caleb had been reduced to a skeleton covered in a taut layer of skin. Anyone who didn’t know better would think him merely a mummified human, but the curled lips revealed a set of fangs that said otherwise.

A wave of nausea passed through Gage. “I’m going to kill Blackwell.”

Minka dropped his hand to nudge him with her elbow. “Knife.”

He looked at her.

“Knife,” she repeated.

Sergei pulled the one from his boot and tossed it to her, sinking it in the ground at her feet. She pulled it loose, wiped it on her jeans, then went to stand beside the coffin.

Gage got as close to her as he could.

She held the knife to her palm. Sergei and Kord put their hands on the bones of Caleb’s arms and shoulders. Gage put his hand on the small of her back. She took a breath. Then made the cut.

She squeezed her hand into a fist over and over, causing the blood to drip from the small incision she’d made.

The space was so quiet, each drop was audible as it fell on Caleb. He remained motionless. The blood stopped dripping.

Minka made a small noise. “It healed.”

The wound had closed up. She reopened it and fed more blood into Caleb.

Bone cracked, and Caleb’s jaw widened.

“It’s working,” she whispered.

Sergei and Kord tensed. Gage’s nerves went haywire. But Minka held strong, reopening the cut a third time.

Caleb’s muscles began to fill out, and the ashen gray of his skin began to fade. Life was returning to his body.

“Brace yourself,” Gage muttered. “He’s coming around.”

“I’m ready,” Minka answered.

A strangled moan poured out of Caleb’s throat as his vocal cords became flesh again. He twitched with the new life flowing through him. Kord and Sergei braced themselves.

Caleb’s face was finally becoming recognizable. His eyes were still white with film, so Gage wasn’t sure if his brother could see or hear yet at this stage. He leaned in. “Caleb, it’s Gage. Can you hear me?”

As if in answer, Caleb snarled and jerked forward, fangs bared. He latched on to Minka’s arm and bit deep. She shrieked and winced but stood her ground.

“Hold him, damn it,” Gage yelled.

“We are,” Sergei yelled back. He and Kord pushed Caleb down, but it was clear Caleb was gaining strength. His hands grasped at Minka, trying to reach her. Trying to hang on to the chance that he might live again.

“It’s the hunger,” Kord said. “It’s giving him strength he shouldn’t have.”

Minka cringed. “Gage—”

That was all he needed to hear. “Caleb, you’re done with her now.” He pried his brother’s jaws apart, freeing her.

She held her arm to her chest as she retreated, but she didn’t go far, stopping near the backpack Gage had brought. She unzipped it, snagged one of the blood bags and tossed it to him. “Here.”

He caught it and stuck it into Caleb’s searching hands.

Caleb sank his fangs into the plastic and began to feed. Gage took the backpack from her and handed it over to Adrian. “Make sure he gets the rest of these.”

“Will do.”

Gage took Minka back to the steps and helped her sit. He crouched to see her eye to eye. “Are you okay? Let me see your arm.”

“It’s fine.” She tipped her head back and took a long, deep breath before looking at him again. When she did, she was smiling. “And I’m good. Thank you.” She grabbed him, pulled him toward her and planted a hard kiss on his mouth.

He balanced on his knees to keep from falling forward. “Whoa, what was that for? Not that I’m complaining.”

She shook her head. “Just because. Now go look after your brother so we can get him home.”

“You’re sure?” She was oddly calm. Gage didn’t know what to make of it.

“Yes.” She pushed at his shoulder. “One hundred percent.”

Minka’s arm throbbed where Caleb had bitten her, and she felt a little lightheaded, but those things would pass. All her worries about Gage not knowing when to pull Caleb off had been for naught. Gage had put her first. Protected her without a second thought. He was a man of his word, and there was no reason not to trust him anymore. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Yes, he’d betrayed her, but how could she hold that against him any longer? He’d been caught between her and his brother. He’d done what he’d needed to do. And in that instance, he’d sided with Caleb. Didn’t mean she held any ill will toward Caleb.

It just felt like she finally had all the pieces of the puzzle and they made a picture she understood.

The men’s voices blended into one another. She shut them out and drifted off for a bit. When she woke, Sergei was standing near her on the concrete pad but talking to Gage.

“She sleeps. You want me carry her?”

“No, no,” she said. “I’m awake.” She stood, stretching her legs.

Gage walked toward her, his brother’s arm looped over his shoulder. He stopped a few feet from her. “Minka, this is my brother, Caleb.”

Caleb looked like a younger version of Gage. She imagined his gaunt appearance had more to do with his hibernation than his actual build. His color was good, no doubt due to the pints of blood he’d ingested, and they’d dressed him in track pants and a sweatshirt. He bowed his head as he leaned on Gage. “I owe you my life. And an apology. My brother tells me I treated you roughly. I am very sorry. I was not myself, as I’m sure was apparent.”

“It was.” His voice still bore the cadence and accent of the year he’d been imprisoned. She smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet the real you, Caleb.”

Gratitude filled his pale gaze. “I am forever in your debt.”

“I might collect on that debt someday.” She broadened her grin. He might be a nearly two-hundred-year-old vampire, but next to Gage he looked like a kid, for crying out loud. “Welcome back. I was happy to help.”

Gage beamed. It was the only word she could think of. Being able to help give him his brother back was something she would always be grateful to have been a part of. In a way, restoring Caleb had restored them.

Gage nodded, seemingly choked by emotion for a moment, then he cleared his throat. “You ready to go home?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. And Caleb has a lot of settling in to do. Probably after a hot shower.”

Caleb squinted. “A hot shower of what?”

Gage laughed. “You have a lot to catch up on, brother.”

Gage pulled Minka closer as twilight approached. She was still asleep, thanks to having completely switched over to his hours. He wound a strand of her hair around his finger and reveled in her warmth even as bittersweet reality set in. The two-week leave of absence she’d put in for was up tomorrow.

He couldn’t lose her again. The thought pierced him like a dagger. Caleb would miss her, too. They’d become a family in these last two weeks. Minka was incredibly patient with Caleb, a quality he’d never seen her display toward anyone, and Caleb looked at her like she’d hung the moon.

Having them both under his roof, with the threat of Blackwell gone…he’d never known one person could feel so much happiness.

If she left…his chest constricted. He swallowed and stared up at the ceiling. That wasn’t a thought he wanted to complete. He had to do something. He slipped out of bed, grabbed his phone and padded down to his office. He sat in his desk chair and punched the speed dial.

The phone connected and rang twice.

“Da?”

“Sergei, it’s Gage.”

“It is early. You have trouble?”

“No. Not exactly. I need a favor.” Gage paused. “What would it take for me to transfer back to the SCC?”

Sergei grunted. “Is not possible. Not with what happened. Better you stay here.” Another grunt. “Why you want to leave?”

“Minka’s leave of absence is up.”

Sergei was quiet a moment. “If pixie wants to transfer to GCC, I sponsor her.”

“You would do that?”

“You are hoping to be together again, da?”

With every fiber of his being. “Yes.”

“Da. Then I do this. No problem.”

“Except I haven’t talked to her about it yet.”

“Then you do that.”

“I will.” Some of the weight lifted from Gage’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

“How is brother? He want job, too?”

“He’s good. Don’t know if he’s ready to sign on as a Collector just yet. Catching up on two hundred years of progress takes time, but he’s getting there, and Minka is helping a lot.”

“She is good woman, that one.”

“Yes, she is. You have no idea.”

He barked out a laugh. “She have sister?”

Gage laughed, too. “No, sorry.”

“Was worth asking.” Sergei yawned. “I go now. You tell me decision later.”

“Will do.” Gage hung up. He looked up to see Caleb standing in the door. “Hey, I was trying not to wake anyone.”

“You didn’t wake me. I’ve slept plenty, trust me.”

“Yeah, I guess you have. You can come in, you know. This is your home, too, now.”

“I confess, it has yet to feel that way.” Caleb took a seat on the large leather sofa that anchored the south wall. “Is something wrong? You look troubled.”

Gage shook his head. “Minka’s leave of absence is up tomorrow.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means she’ll be going back to Nevada.”

A look of horror came over Caleb’s face. “She doesn’t live here?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Good question. “Because—”

“Because he hasn’t asked,” Minka answered. She slouched against the door in gym shorts and his T-shirt.

“You’d stay?” Gage took that in while she strolled into the room and took a seat on the couch with Caleb.

She shrugged one shoulder. “I might. It’s open to discussion. Especially when I know you can’t go back to Vegas.”

“How do you know that?”

She took a deep breath. “I talked to Romero. He’s willing to forgive what you did considering the circumstances, but it’s too much to forget. If you want to keep being a Collector, you have to stay here.”

“Then stay here with me.” Gage had never wanted anything so much in his life.

She looked at Caleb. “Your brother needs to step up his game, don’t you think?”

Caleb nodded slowly, his gaze full of questions. “Yes. His game definitely needs…what game is this?”

Gage understood. She wanted some wooing. He could woo. “It’s the game of love.”

“Ah,” Caleb said. “I know that game.” He pointed at Gage. “You love her?”

“Madly.”

Caleb pointed at Minka. “You love him?”

She tilted her head coyly. “Yes.”

Caleb held his hands out. “I don’t understand the problem.”

Gage did. And based on Minka’s lack of answer about staying, he could only guess she wasn’t ready to give Vegas up. “She has commitments in Nevada, Caleb. It’s not that simple.”

“Actually…” Minka tapped a finger on her bottom lip. “I don’t really have those commitments anymore. I mean, I could get rid of them pretty easily.”

Gage stilled. “So…you would stay here?”

“I might if things were right.”

Gage shook his head. “What does that mean? What else needs to be right?”

Caleb growled in frustration. “Perhaps it’s that you still haven’t asked her to stay, you dolt.”

She rolled her lips in to keep from laughing. “I see your brother got the brains in the family.”

Gage stood. She wanted to be asked. He could do that. He could do better than that, actually. Up his game. Hmph. He walked over and got down on one knee. “Minka Winslow, would you stay with me and be my wife?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, then threw her arms around him and kissed him before answering, “Yes to the staying. Maybe on the wife. Ask me again in six months.”

He looked at her. “You still think my game needs stepping up?”

“It’s been two years. I’m not even sure how well you play anymore,” she teased.

He laughed, happy to see her eyes were sparkling with joy and love. “Well, then. Let the games begin.”

If you enjoyed the world of the Sin City Collectors (SCC), look for more information about the entire series & all the authors participating on our Facebook page.

*Contributing SCC authors*

Amanda Carlson

Suzanne McLeod

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About the Author

Kristen Painter likes to balance her obsessions with shoes and cats by making the lives of her characters miserable and surprising her readers with interesting twists. She currently writes paranormal romance in the Sin City Collectors series and award-winning urban fantasy for Orbit Books. The former college English teacher can often be found all over social media where she loves to interact with readers: Website * Twitter * Facebook * Instagram.

Other books by Kristen Painter

URBAN FANTASY

The House of Comarré series:

Forbidden Blood

Blood Rights

Flesh and Blood

Bad Blood

Out For Blood

Last Blood

Crescent City series:

House of the Rising Sun

City of Eternal Night

PARANORMAL ROMANCE

Dark Kiss of the Reaper

Heart of Fire

All Fired Up

Nothing is completed without an amazing team.

Many thanks to:

Cover design: Robin Ludwig Design Inc

Interior formatting: Author E.M.S.

Copyedits/proofs: Joyce Lamb

Table of Contents

Copyright

The Table of Contents

Queen of Hearts

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Dead Man’s Hand

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Double or Nothing

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

The Sin City Collectors

About the Author

Many Thanks