The Shadow of Perseus: A Novel
Author: Claire Heywood
Date: 2023-02-21 00:00:00+00:00
Description: Nationally bestselling author of Daughters of Sparta Claire Heywood returns with an imaginative and female-centered reinterpretation of the myth of the great hero Perseus, told through the voices of three women who are sidelined in the traditional version—his mother, Danae; his trophy, Medusa; and his wife, Andromeda—but whose viewpoints reveal a man who is not, in fact, a hero at all. Danae: Banished from her homeland thanks to a prophecy foretelling that her unborn child will one day cause the death of her father, the king of Argos, Danae finds herself stranded, pregnant, and alone in a remo
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Rights: Copyright 2019 Nicola Claire. All rights reserved.

Dark Shadow

Mixed Blessing Mystery Book Two

Nicola Claire

Copyright © 2018, Nicola Claire

All Rights Reserved

© 2018 Cover Art by Cora Graphics

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

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

ISBN: 978-0-473-44361-0

Created with Vellum

Contents

About the Author

Free Download

Also By Nicola Claire

Description

Preface

Definitions

Empathic Sensory Range

1. Conflict

2. Sadness

3. Regret

4. Anger

5. Affront

6. Betrayal

7. Shock

8. Terror

9. Surprise

10. Threatened

11. Hunger

12. Broken

13. Shock

14. Fury

15. Agreement

16. Shaken

17. Lust

18. Trapped

19. Worry

20. Dazed

21. Cornered

22. Scared

23. Crazed

24. Puzzled

25. Tricked

26. Resigned

27. Annoyed

28. Disturbed

29. Settled

Epilogue

Review Request

The Kindred World Continues…

If You Missed It Already…

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Another Bargain Book From Nicola Claire!

“Dystopian At Its Finest”

About the Author

Nicola Claire lives in beautiful Taupo, New Zealand with her husband and two young boys.

She's tried her hand at being a paramedic, bank teller and medical sales representative, (not all necessarily in that order), but her love of writing keeps calling her back.

She has a passion for all things suspenseful, spiced up with a good dollop of romance, as long as they include strong characters - alpha males and capable females - and worlds which although make-believe are really quite believable in the end.

There's nothing better than getting caught up in a compelling, intriguing and romantic book.

When she's not writing or reading, she's out on her family boat at Lake Taupo, teaching her young boys to fish, showing them the beauty that surrounds them in nature and catching some delicious trout for dinner.

Creating rich worlds with dynamic characters and unexpected twists that shock and awe has been pure bliss for this author. And just as well, because there's a lot more story yet to tell...

For more information:

www.nicolaclairebooks.com
nicola@nicolaclairebooks.com

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Starter Library

* * *

Also By Nicola Claire

Kindred Series

Kindred

Blood Life Seeker

Forbidden Drink

Giver of Light

Dancing Dragon

Shadow's Light

Entwined With The Dark

Kiss Of The Dragon

Dreaming Of A Blood Red Christmas (Novella)

* * *

Mixed Blessing Mystery Series

Mixed Blessing

Dark Shadow

Rogue Vampire (Coming Soon)

* * *

Sweet Seduction Series

Sweet Seduction Sacrifice

Sweet Seduction Serenade

Sweet Seduction Shadow

Sweet Seduction Surrender

Sweet Seduction Shield

Sweet Seduction Sabotage

Sweet Seduction Stripped

Sweet Seduction Secrets

Sweet Seduction Sayonara

* * *

Elemental Awakening Series

The Tempting Touch Of Fire

The Soothing Scent Of Earth

The Chilling Change Of Air

The Tantalising Taste Of Water

The Eternal Edge Of Aether (Novella)

* * *

H.E.A.T. Series

A Flare Of Heat

A Touch Of Heat

A Twist Of Heat (Novella)

A Lick Of Heat (Coming Soon)

* * *

Citizen Saga

Elite

Cardinal

Citizen

Masked (Novella)

Wiped

* * *

Scarlet Suffragette Series

Fearless

Breathless

Heartless (Coming Soon)

* * *

Blood Enchanted Series

Blood Enchanted

Blood Entwined

Blood Enthralled (Coming Soon)

* * *

44 South Series

Southern Sunset

Southern Storm

Southern Strike (Coming Soon)

* * *

Lost Time Series

Losing Time

Making Time (Coming Soon)

* * *

The Sector Fleet

Accelerating Universe

Apparent Brightness

Right Ascension

Zenith Point

For: My niece (again).

Because I’m still using your name
and have no intention of returning it.

Description

“It’s in all of us. Humans too. But the supernaturals have more than the Norms do. Part of what makes a vampire a vampire is drawn from the Dark. All fairies, regardless of whether they are Dark Fey or Light Fey, have Dark in them. Shapeshifters too, although I’ve been told they fight it. But never underestimate the Dark. If you don’t want it to crawl into bed with you late at night, don’t pull back the covers.”

Someone's abducting members of parliament, and they smell like wet dog.

This could mean disaster for the country. For Georgia Deverell, it means so much more.

The half-vampire/half-vampire hunter Nothus suddenly becomes a hot commodity. Because no one, not Norm nor supernatural, can hunt down the perpetrator like she will. But that’s not all Georgia has to worry about.

Her Dark Shadow has just about had enough. And when a fairy changes the balance of power between Gigi and her vampire-within, things get interesting. That’s if interesting involves a sexy vampire or two and the battle they currently have to win her as a mate.

Taking on Fey monsters and shapeshifting Taniwha are the least of Georgia’s problems. Taking on the Master of Auckland City and the vampire she never stopped loving could be the death of her. The final death that is.

Like Gigi says, it sucks to be me.

Preface

Dear Kindred-ite,

They say “Good things come to those who wait.” And boy, have you had to wait for Dark Shadow! So, it was up to me to deliver on the “good” part, wasn’t it?

And, I’m very pleased to say, I did!

Dark Shadow is set shortly after Mixed Blessing, which means in the Kindred World timeline, it comes between Shadow’s Light and Entwined With The Dark. Basically, MBM 1 is Kindred 6.5 and MBM 2 is Kindred 6.75.

Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?

So, without any further ado (and excuses!) I give you Georgia. The mixed up Nothus. The half-vampire/half-vampire hunter with a chip on her shoulder and a kick-butt, take-no-prisoners attitude.

This one was fun, my friends. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. And I thank you for waiting for Georgia…and for me, so patiently.

Love,

Nicola

Definitions

Accord – A blood binding agreement, often between two parties of equal power; cannot be broken.

Álfheimr – (Fey) Faerie. Home to the Fey.

Alliance – A word of honour agreement; has varying degrees of binding, some alliances cannot be broken.

Amor certamen - (Latin) Literal translation: Love Contest. In the Nosferatu world, it means the challenge for the right to mate a vampire. It can include two or more vampires challenging for mate rights.

Blood Bond – A binding connection between master and servant, requiring the exchange of blood to seal. It can only be broken by someone more powerful than the master who created it. A blood bond establishes a close relationship between the blood bonded. The master provides safety and protection, the servant offers obedience and loyalty.

Command – A directive given by a Master vampire to one of his line. It requires Sanguis Vitam in order to enforce obedience. It cannot be ignored.

Dökkálfa – (Fey) The Dark Fey.

Dream Walk – A Nosferatin power, enabling the Nosferatin to appear in a different location. The Dream Walker is invisible, cannot be sensed or smelled, and only heard if they talk when in this realm. They can, however, interact and be harmed. The only exception to a Dream Walker's invisibility is another Nosferatin. Two Dream Walks in a 24 hour period results in prolonged unconsciousness once the Dream Walker returns to their body. A very rare power.

Elska – (Fey) Literally love. An elska is a mœðr. A member of the Fey can only ever have one elska in their lives. They are in tune with the Light or ljós within their matched fairy and potentially will become their one true love.

Final death – The true death of a Nosferatu. There can be no survival from the final death.

Fólkvangr - (Fey) Elysium; the fairy equivalent of Nut’s realm.

Glaze – The ability to influence another. It requires direct eye contact and sanguis vitam to insert the influence. Usually a Nosferatu skill, allowing a vampire to influence a human.

Hár Lords – (Fey) High. The Dökkálfa law keepers.

Herra - (Fey) Lord or Elder.

Hundr - (Fey) Hound.

Iunctio – (Latin). The Nosferatu connection and governing power. All vampires are connected to one another via this supernatural information exchange highway; enabling sharing of rules, locations of safe havens and hot spots to avoid. It is powered by both Nosferatu and Nosferatin Sanguis Vitam, but is operated by the Nosferatu in Paris. There are twelve members of the Iunctio council, headed by the Champion. The Iunctio is tasked with policing all supernaturals throughout the world.

Kindred – A Nosferatu or Nosferatin sacred match, a suitable partner for a joining. To be a kindred there must exist a connection between the Nosferatu and Nosferatin; only those suitably compatible will be kindred to the other.

Line – The family of a master vampire, all members of which have been turned by the master, or accepted via blood bond into the fold.

Ljós – (Fey) Light.

Ljósálfar – (Fey) The Light Fey.

Lux Lucis Tribuo – (Latin) The Giver of Light. The third part of the Prophesy. The Lux Lucis Tribuo is charged with balancing the Dark in Dark vampires out with their Light.

Master – A Nosferatu with the highest level of Sanguis Vitam. There are five levels of Master, from level five – the lowest on the Sanguis Vitam scale, to level one – the highest on the Sanguis Vitam scale. Only level one Masters can head a line of their own. Some Nosferatu may never become Masters.

Master of the City – A level one Master in control of a territory; a city.

Norm – A human unaware of the supernaturals who walk the Earth. They also do not have any supernatural abilities themselves.

Nosferatin – (Nosferat–een) - A vampire hunter by birth. Nosferatin were once of the same ilk as Nosferatu, descendants from the same ancestors, or God. The Nosferatin broke off and turned towards the Light. Their sole purpose is to bring the Nosferatu back from the Dark, this can include dispatching them, bringing them the final death, when they cannot be saved. They are now a mix of human and Nosferatin genetics.

Nosferatu – A vampire. The Nosferatu turned towards the Dark, when their kin, the Nosferatin turned towards the Light. They require blood to survive and can be harmed by UV exposure and silver. They do not need to breathe or have a heart beat. They are considered the undead.

Nothus - (Latin) Dhampir. An illegal combination of two species, for example Nosferatin - Nosferatu Dhampir mix. Considered illegitimate by the Iunctio and a kill-on-sight order stands for any Nothus uncovered.

Prohibitum Bibere – (Latin) The Forbidden Drink. The second part of the Prophesy. The Prohibitum Bibere is a siren to the Dark vampires throughout the world, calling their Darkness towards the Light.

Pull – The Nosferatin sense of evil. Guides a hunter to a Dark vampire; sometimes, but not always a rogue, who is about to feed off an innocent.

Rogue – A vampire no longer controlled by a master, full of evil and Darkness, feeding indiscriminately and uncontrolled.

Sanguis Vitam – (Latin) The Blood Life or life force of a Nosferatu. It represents the power they possess. There are varying degrees of Sanguis Vitam.

Sanguis Vitam Cupitor – (Latin) The Blood Life Seeker. The first part of the Prophesy. The Sanguis Vitam Cupitor can sense and find all Dark vampires throughout the world.

Shadow Walker - A vampire capable of hiding in the shadows, covering their presence, including scent and Sanguis Vitam signature.

Sigillum – (Latin) A permanent mark of possession.

Turned – The action of changing a human into a vampire.

Valhöll - (Fey) Valhalla; Hall of the Slain; home to the Valkyries.

Valkyrja - (Fey) Pl. Valkyrjur; Valkyries. Warrior women of the Ljósálfar. Odin, the God of War’s daughters.

Vampyre – Old term for vampire; used rarely in modern language.

Empathic Sensory Range

Alarm/Concern - bold grapefruit and lime

Amusement - sticky toffee

Anger - stringent ammonia

Anticipation - sweet and pungent sting of a summer storm

Compassion** - calming chamomile tea

Confusion - apple mixed with lime

Contempt - pungent and spicy pepper

Curiosity - ink and crisp parchment

Desire - sweet passion-fruit

Determined/Decided - strong rosemary and garlic

Disappointment - decaying leaves and grass

Fear* - bitter-sweet dark chocolate

Guilt - uncomfortable mouldy cheese

Happy - cotton candy & caramel popcorn

Hatred - burnt coffee and out-of-date milk

Hurt/Pain - bruised rose petals and overripe summer fruit

Lie/Untruth - sharp citrus/tart lemon

Love - freshly baked bread, woodsmoke and newly cut grass

Lust* - indulgent chocolate mud cake

Nervous - lemon, lime and mint

Regret - mouthwatering white chocolate and strawberry cheesecake

Relaxation/At Ease** - calming sweet tea

Sad/Sorrow - white lilies and loose leaf tea

Satisfaction/Pride - smooth and dry Merlot, laced with a floral bouquet

Sorry/Apologetic - crushed daisy petals

Surprise - washroom bleach

Uncomfortable - soggy wet wool

Unhappy - red wine and wet carpet

*Fear and Lust are similar as they are both desirable to a vampire

**Compassion & Relaxation (being at ease) are similar as they are both aberrant to a vampire

There are dark shadows on the earth,
but its lights are stronger in the contrast.

“The Pickwick Papers”

Charles Dickens 1812-1870

1

Conflict

They say hell is empty and all the devils are here. They’d be right. Every single one of the Dark Fey that surrounded me could have sported horns and red eyes and cloven hoofs for all the evil they oozed.

Pungent and spicy pepper filled my nostrils. Burnt coffee and out-of-date milk coated the back of my throat. Stringent ammonia hung on the still air. Contempt. Hatred. Anger. I curled my lips and let my fangs glint in the soft light of a chandelier.

I might have growled. They might have hissed back. We’d never know what would have happened because Aliath walked into the room.

Immediately their faces took on a mien of indifference; their noses in the air, their wings, if they had them, tucked securely down their backs, their lips curved into soft but empty smiles.

Aliath crossed the throne room floor, slowing as he registered the tension in the air, until he came to a halt before the Queen. He bowed low. She ignored him. Silence reigned.

Fuck this.

I drilled the closest fairy to catch my eye with a little vampire mojo and watched as he started clucking like a chicken. He even had the flapping of his arms down pat.

Aliath flashed me a warning look. The Queen roused herself enough to meet my gaze.

There was no way I was glazing that one. She reeked of power. Dark and full of shadows. My own Dark Shadow raised her head and stared back from behind my eyes; interested. Here was one who could make the hackles rise down the back of my vampire-within’s neck.

The Queen flicked her fingers, and the fairy stopped clucking. I felt manacles wrap around my wrists, but when I glanced down, nothing was there. I surreptitiously tugged on invisible chains. The clanking of their non-existent links sounded loud in the quiet space.

“You’ve brought me a gift, nephew,” the Queen said. Her voice sounded like chimes; I started to sway.

“Your Majesty,” Aliath intoned, his own chimes countering his monarch’s, not so much stopping me swaying, but making my body want to sway in the opposite direction to that which the Queen’s chimes demanded.

Usually, I could brush Aliath’s influence off easily, but it hadn’t been a usual day.

“My last vampire did prove such a delight, did it not?” the Queen mused, musically.

I closed my eyes and reached for my Dark Shadow. It wasn’t a natural thing to do. It made me a little sick inside sometimes. Which was just pathetic. Whoever heard of a vampire hating its vampire-within so much that it shied away from using it when needed?

The Dark Shadow rose up and stretched. I could have sworn I saw her shadow - her actual shadow - ripple against the tall whitewashed walls of the room. Claw tipped hands slashed out; the shadow on the wall swiping in synchrony to my vampire-within’s movements.

The invisible chain clattered to the floor.

The Queen sat forward.

“I follow a lead, my Queen,” Aliath said rather quickly. If he thought distraction would work, he was less intelligent than he’d led me to believe. “The Hundr tracks Isoleth’s spies.”

The Queen flicked her eyes off me and searched Aliath’s face for something.

“You use a vampire to hunt my enemies?” she demanded archly.

“Not just any vampire,” Aliath said, sounding smug. But then, all fairies sounded smug to me.

The Queen’s vibrant green eyes narrowed, her cupid’s bow lips thinned. A chill invaded the room.

“Speak!” she shouted.

Aliath didn’t even flinch.

“Nothus,” he said simply.

“Nothus,” the Queen repeated, contemplatively. She sat back on her throne and tapped long, red-lacquered fingernails on the armrests. “Yes,” she said, almost gleefully. “Yes. You are right. This might work.”

Aliath smiled. It was dazzling. For a moment, I forgot where I was, who I was, why I was even here.

Then my Dark Shadow surged to the surface, and a low growl sounded out from deep inside my chest.

The Fey chittered like frightened birds.

The Queen lowered her chin, stared directly at me, and smiled.

I was rethinking that saying. Hell wasn’t empty. Hell was Álfheimr.

And the devil was a silver-haired, green-eyed monster.

Satan thy name is Sofiq.

Queen of the Dökkálfa.

She slowly lifted her hand; a long, red-tipped finger pointed directly at me.

“My Queen,” Aliath said, an urgency to his tone. “Please do not damage my Hundr.”

“Damage, nephew? Oh, no,” she purred. “I honour your Nothus with a gift.”

I stood before her, fear making my eyes widen, my fangs fully extended, the Dark Shadow steely but still inside me.

“Your Majesty,” Aliath said. “A gift is unnecessary.”

“I beg to differ,” the Queen said. “In this case, I believe a gift is more necessary than life.”

She flicked her finger. Sparkles of iridescent light shot out from the tip. Dark dust floated toward me; glinting as though shot through with diamonds. The bolt of power hit me square in the chest.

I sucked in a breath of air; felt my knees buckle. The room began to blur, the walls warping, the colourful Dökkálfa morphing into childhood bedtime story creatures. Blues and greens and yellows all melding together to make a frightfully gauche looking many-headed snake. Their bodies swaying as if dancing to a charmer’s tune.

Maybe they were. Maybe the Queen was chiming. I didn't know anymore, because I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t scent. I couldn’t see.

The room turned black, pain lanced through me.

But in my mind, I clearly heard Queen Sofiq.

“You think me incapable of discerning the truth, nephew? You think me unable to see my enemies when dressed up as my kin?”

“My Queen,” Aliath said, his voice sounding contrite inside my head.

I’d never heard Aliath speak in such a way. It should have amused me. Instead, I felt sick with worry.

“Do not fret, nephew. She will be easier to control this way. I give you a boon, Aliath, Prince of Dökkálfa. Do not waste it.”

I didn't hear Aliath’s reply, but I felt firm arms lift me. Heat coursed through my frozen body. The scent of calming chamomile tea and mouthwatering white chocolate and strawberry cheesecake surrounded me.

I licked my lips. My fangs snagged on my tongue making me bleed. The blood was mine but tasted delicious. I hissed out a breath and opened my eyes.

Aliath was carrying me down a dark, narrow corridor, a look of worry etched on his beautiful face.

“Why compassion, Fairy? Why such regret?” I enquired.

His bright green eyes flicked down to me. I blinked, unable to look away. Unable to think.

“I could make you do anything I wanted,” he said in a low growl. “I could make you forget your name. Forget your mate’s name.”

“I have no mate,” I countered automatically.

“Don’t you?”

I scowled at him. He dimmed the vivid light of his eyes and looked ahead to where he was taking me.

“Do you feel any different?” he asked after a few more steps.

“I feel fine.” Then why was he carrying me?

I sprang out of his grasp and landed in a crouch, fangs extended.

He studied me; a look of pity on his face that made no sense.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

My stomach growled. My fangs ached. I stared hard at the side of his neck.

“Fairy blood is not conducive to a vampire’s good health or have you forgotten?” he said simply. I knew this, but the hunger I felt made my mind murky.

“When did you last eat, Georgia?” he asked.

I racked my fuzzy brain. I’d eaten before we’d left Earth. Taken my fill of a lowlife drug dealer who thankfully didn't partake of his own meth. I’d envisaged not returning to Earth for several days. Days in which a full belly should have held me over.

How long had we been here? Had time moved so differently for us that the hunger had already begun again?

“A day has passed,” Aliath said as if reading my mind. “One day in Álfheimr. A week on Earth. But your body is ageing here, not there. You should not require food for another three days at least.”

“The Queen did something…” I started, my stomach somersaulting.

“Yes.”

He would make me ask. Nothing was ever given freely in Álfheimr. Nothing. I already owed him too much. We had an accord. One I had thought I had negotiated well. But it turns out, two months as a half-vampire is not nearly long enough to master the ways of supernatural beings.

Jett no longer wanted me to join his line, but he still wanted me. Damn the machinations of fairies.

The Dark Shadow raked her claws down the inside of my head.

“Something’s changed,” I said aloud.

“Yes,” Aliath replied, not offering me an answer to my problems.

But then, why would he? He’d got what he wanted already.

His Hundr was on a short leash.

Always read the small print when agreeing to anything with a fairy.

Or, you know, actually have some small print to bind their sparkly arse with.

I wasn’t going to ask. The last time I’d asked him a question, he’d threatened to lengthen the time of the accord and number of times I had to assist him. The only reason why I’d jumped on this first repayment was because he’d turned up right in the middle of an awkward moment. One I was pretty sure I was lucky to get out of alive.

The Enforcer had looked mega-scary.

Aliath stood silent and still before me. His eyes boring into mine as if he could command me mentally to ask the question and be beholden to him for eternity or some such sucky thing. I wasn’t born yesterday, turned maybe, but not born. I’d had a good twenty years or so of dealing with my father’s manipulation; I knew exactly how these types of things went.

So, I did something I hadn’t done before. I purposely sought out my Dark Shadow and asked her instead.

Better the devil you know and all that.

What’s changed?

So much and so little.

Can you be more precise?

I can. Can you?

It was like dealing with a five-year-old. Not that I had much experience of dealing with five-year-olds. But I was pretty damn sure they’d piss me off as much as she was right now.

Look, I mentally said, we’re in this together. If the Bitch Queen did something to screw with us, it’s better if we both know what that something is.

I agree. Look inside. Look carefully.

I gritted my teeth.

Such beauty, she said. Such anger. It is red. Do you not like red?

I used to like blues and yellows and greens. Now I was more of a black and white kind of girl. But she did have a point. That red I could see, could feel, it felt…good.

Ah, she purred. You see it. You feel it. It is life.

She wasn’t making much sense. I was hungry. My body ached for some reason. My fangs wouldn’t retract. I needed blood. But that wasn’t what had me so on edge. I reached out for something other than the red. It wasn’t until I couldn’t touch it that I realised why everything felt so wrong and yet, for the Dark Shadow, so very right.

Where’s my Light? I growled at her.

Here, she said and threw it at me.

My back slammed into the wall of the corridor, making tiles and plaster fall to the cold floor. While bones cracked, and pain wracked my frame, and a sound of agony was wrenched from my lips.

“Little Sparrow,” Aliath said, bending down beside me and cocking his head. “It will take some adjustment,” he added. “But to fight her is to fight yourself.”

Oh, this was so screwed up.

Since when had the Dark Shadow wielded my Light so easily? My Light is the part of me that is Nosferatin, vampire hunter, good. My Sanguis Vitam, my blood life force is the part of me that is Nosferatu, vampire, bad. I tried to remember if my Dark Shadow had been able to wield my Light before.

I came up uncomfortably blank.

I reached out for my Light, tentatively, carefully. Already imagining the pain. But there was no pain. There was no Light.

Until my Dark Shadow slowly, purposefully, released it into my care as if offering something special.

It was special. It was mine. More mine than hers. And yet my Dark Shadow is as much a part of me now as I am.

Oh, fuck-a-duck. Queen Sofiq was teaching me a lesson. Learn to work with my vampire-within or learn to live without my Light. A gift, she’d said. This was no gift. This was a curse.

I looked up at Aliath, whose green eyes glowed with something other than iridescent light.

Do not fret, nephew. She will be easier to control this way. I give you a boon, Aliath, Prince of Dökkálfa. Do not waste it.

Oh, hell no.

You and me, I said to the Dark Shadow, are not going to let some silver-haired fairy freak take advantage of this mess.

Agreed, she said.

I pushed up from the ground, making Aliath take a step back, and dusted myself off.

“Blood,” I said. “Human,” I added. “We’re hungry.”

My Dark Shadow stood up as well, stretching her arms out wide and purring.

It is good to be free, she said.

2

Sadness

I released the human male I’d been feeding on and licked my lips to be sure I’d tasted all of his blood. Aliath leaned against the brick wall opposite me in the alley. He said nothing, but there was a look on his face that spoke a thousand words.

He was unhappy.

“We should return to Álfheimr,” he said.

“I’m still hungry,” I growled in reply.

An arched brow and then, “He was your third human.”

“Take it up with your Queen,” I snapped. “She did this.”

Aliath’s eyes flashed apple green. Apple green was OK; it was when he reached chartreuse that you had to worry. He was just frustrated.

I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

My eyes narrowed on that thought, but Aliath was winding up for a Nothus whipping, so I diverted all my attention to him.

“I can’t hunt like this,” I said, cutting him off before he’d even got started. “Go away and come back tomorrow.”

He blinked at me.

“One day,” I said. “It’s not much to ask considering what your Queen did. And it’s not like you can’t find me again.”

“I can. And I will. We have an accord.”

I almost mimicked him in a sing-song, sarcastic voice. We have an accord. It sucked to be me.

“I know,” I said.

“Good,” he said, and then bled into the shadows.

Huh. I hadn’t thought he’d actually go for that. But maybe the Fey Prince felt sorry for me. It’s not like I’d had a handle on this Nothus thing before Sofiq got involved. And now I was once again a newbie.

I let out a soft breath of air and checked that the way was clear. The last guy I’d chomped on had fled. Making his escape while he could. Good man.

So, I thought conversationally, how are we going to fix this?

Why would we want it to be fixed?

Because I’m the one who’s meant to handle the Light side of things and you’re, well, you. A Dark Shadow.

Can you not wield Sanguis Vitam when you wish it?

Yes, but…

I should be able to wield Light when I wish it, too.

That’s not how it goes.

The Dark Shadow retreated, taking away any access to my Light I’d thought I’d had. Reaffirming her superior position. I reached out and placed a hand on the brick wall to my side, dizziness assailing me. Is this what it had been like for her? Denied my Light and pushed to the back constantly?

It didn’t sit comfortably with me, but it’s not as if this Nothus thing had come with a manual. I wondered, not for the first time, if other vampires had this sort of love-hate relationship with their vampires-within. Was it always a constant battle for them, too?

I could have asked someone. Not Lucinda. She’d left for London, and I wouldn’t have turned to her in any case. I was still a little bitter about the whole Goddess interfering in my death thing she’d undertaken. And going to Jett was not at the top of my to-do list. The Master of the City would just try to tell me how much easier it would be once we mated. There was Samson, of course. Not that Samson didn’t want something from me too. But with Samson, I knew he wouldn’t force me, or hold it over my head in exchange for answers.

But facing Samson after we shared that kiss? No. Not yet. Not ever, if I could help it. It had been a weak moment. My Rogue Sire had just been staked, after trying to bring about my final death. I’d been hyped up on adrenaline and whatever else vampires thrive off when they face death and spit in its face, coming out the victor.

No. Not gonna go back there in a hurry.

Fool, the Dark Shadow whispered in my mind.

I turned my back on the alley I was in; mainly because I couldn’t seem to turn my back on her anymore. What the hell had the Dark Queen done to me? Us. Whatever.

With no other vampire mentor to turn to and not wanting to dump this all on Kara - again - I trudged back to my apartment, contemplating packing a bag and heading towards South America. But hiding out in an Iunctio free zone would not keep me from the blasted fairy. I needed to find a Dökkálfa free zone instead. Considering Aliath was of royal fairy blood and therefore didn’t need to use a portal to come and go as he pleased meant I was shit out of luck on that front.

Even if I did go somewhere with fewer fairies, the Herra Lord would still find me.

I pushed through the doors to my apartment building, feeling a sense of rightness steal over me as the black and white decor surrounded. Inhaling, I catalogued a multitude of scents, each complex and overlaying the other. In a fraction of a second, I’d singled out the signature scents from the emotional ones and homed in on the most recognisable.

Vanilla, raspberry and allspice.

I bled into what little shadows there were and flashed up the stairwell, pausing at the top to peer around the edge into the corridor that led to my apartment.

Detective Mark Anderson stood before my door, writing a note up against the wood. Every now and then he’d shake out the pen, making the ink fall back to the nib. I smirked. Then scowled.

The last time Mark had been here, he’d not exactly been impressed with me. The fact that I’d just fed from him and then glazed the pizza delivery boy while he watched might have had something to do with it.

I released the shadows and stepped out onto the landing, clearing my throat.

Mark spun around, his hand immediately going to his service weapon at his hip.

I watched a plethora of emotions cross his face, the first being fear, the last being resignation. I didn’t bother to inhale and confirm the emotions. I didn’t need to. Mark knew about the things that go bump in the night. Well, most of them. He hadn’t met a Taniwha in full rage mode yet. But knowledge, in this case, was not armour.

No, the silver coated bullets in his firearm were.

“Mark,” I said.

“Georgia,” he replied.

We stared at each other. Mark had gone to the same high school as me; a couple of years ahead of my class. I’d dated his brother briefly. He was one of the good guys. I was not. I might have a little laminated card in my pocket that said otherwise, but one look at Detective Anderson’s blue-grey eyes and you got an entirely different story.

I crossed the landing and approached my door. Mark stepped back, keeping his hand on his hip, near his gun, and his hard eyes on my face. I unlocked the door and held it open.

“Come in,” I said and almost laughed.

Humans didn’t need invitations to enter someone’s home. Vampires did. I’d missed out on that little caveat, but had a few others I needed to contend with. Sunlight was one.

I wondered briefly, as Mark reluctantly followed me into my evil lair, if that was still the case. I felt different. Inside and out. I felt as if my skin was too tight all of a sudden. As if living with my Dark Shadow meant I had very little space left for me.

I shook my head and turned around to face the policeman, leaning my butt against my kitchen bench.

My flat was small, but open plan. Kitchen leading onto the dining room, which in turn led onto the lounge. The bedroom and bathroom were off to the side, but I could flash across the entire space in less time than it took to blink.

I didn’t. Scaring the cop with silver bullets was not a good idea. I did have some impulse control left.

“What can I do for you?” I asked.

“Where have you been?” he said by way of answer.

“Travelling.”

“I’ve left a dozen messages on your cellphone.”

I scowled and reached into my pocket to withdraw my phone. It had updated. The date changed. One week. The fairy hadn’t lied. Not that Aliath was prone to that, being of the Dark Fey variety. But still. I never really took a word he said as final.

I stared at the message bubbles appearing on the screen. I had the phone on silent, so hadn’t heard the notifications as the phone hooked back up to the local network once we’d arrived back here from Faery.

“Battery ran out,” I lied, pocketing the phone again.

“And you couldn’t charge it where you were?”

“Left the charger at home.” Not a lie.

He ran a hand through his short hair, making it stand up in spikes. It looked angry. Mark looked unhappy. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Red wine and wet carpet. I glanced at my cream carpet, at where I’d spilt a cup of tea not so long ago. Tea Mark had made for me before he knew I preferred blood as my hot drink.

My eyes came back up to him. He was pacing. Still ruffling up his hair with agitated hand movements. He looked rumpled. His suit creased. Shadows beneath his eyes. This was not the Mark Anderson I had last seen.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to come here,” he said, not answering me. “But I’ve got no choice now. I’ve hit a wall. Boss isn’t happy. No one’s happy. The press is having a field day. We’ve managed to keep most of it out of the newspapers, but how long that’ll last, I don’t know. Not when the victims’ families are calling for blood.”

He winced; shot a startled look up at my face as if expecting me to pounce on the word and suck it down unrepentantly.

“I’ve already fed,” I said, thinking to reassure him.

He frowned, turning a shade of green I hadn’t thought possible on homo sapiens.

“Victims?” I offered, trying to get him back on target.

I hadn’t thought he was here for a social visit. That boat had long sailed. Right after I glazed him, influenced him with my Sanguis Vitam and oh, yeah, fed off his blood.

But I also hadn’t expected to be called on in my capacity as “psychic advisor” to the police. That little laminated card burned a hole in my pocket. But the part of me that was - until recently - all Light hadn’t had the heart to discard it.

Seemed like I’d be using it again.

“You want my help,” I said.

“I don’t want anything to do with you,” he snapped back.

Ouch. I didn’t show any outward sign of hurt. Just stared at him and waited for him to get it off his chest.

It took a good long minute, and then he said in a more level voice, “I need your help.”

I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. I wasn’t sure I had anything other than water to offer Mark, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t take anything I had to offer anyway.

It would have been so much easier if I could just glaze him. But Mark had a resistance to most vampire glazing. And something else too alarming to consider to mine. I was not going down that path again.

My Dark Shadow disagreed.

I ignored her. Which was hard to do considering she was constantly there. In my face. In my head, but in my face in my head, if you know what I mean.

I rolled my eyes.

“You think murder is funny?” Mark demanded.

“What?” I unintelligently asked.

“You just rolled your eyes. I have to assume you think yourself above helping us humans out now that you’ve staked your Sire. No incentive to get involved, is that it? I used to think there was still some good in you, Georgia. But I can see I’m wasting my time.”

He strode across the room toward the still open door, which I slammed shut with a flick of my wrist and a smattering of Sanguis Vitam. Well, that was new.

Life, the Dark Shadow purred.

Whatever.

Mark pulled his gun, bringing it around and aiming it at me.

I’d just fed, which might be why he wasn’t already dead. But the Bitch Queen of Dökkálfa had done something to me which meant the gun went flying and this time I hadn’t even flicked my fingers.

I smiled. I knew it showed fang and for some reason, I didn’t care.

“Have a seat,” I said and watched in a detached kind of way as the seat beside me at the table swept out across the tiles and stopped at Mark’s side.

He stared at me, horror written in the lines that creased his forehead and bracketed his downturned mouth. I nudged the chair with a mental shove to move it behind him, and then pushed it into the back of his legs. His knees were clearly feeling weak because he sat down with an audible burst of air.

“Georgia,” he said. Nothing else. Nothing more. And the condemnation in my name astounded me.

What the hell was happening here? What had Sofiq done?

Life, the Dark Shadow purred.

I gritted my teeth. Felt my fangs pierce the inside of my mouth. Blood flooded my tastebuds. I breathed through my nose even though, now more than ever it seemed, I didn’t need to breathe at all.

Stringent ammonia. Bittersweet dark chocolate. Mouthwatering white chocolate and strawberry cheesecake. He was angry, scared and full of regret. I gathered the last was regret for coming here.

I should have felt sad about that.

Instead, I leaned forward in my seat, making Mark involuntarily lean back in his, and stared at him. The Dark Shadow catalogued his features. Broad shoulders. Pale skin. Perspiration running down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. She inhaled, trying to scent urine. It wasn’t there, but she could hear the grumble of discomfort in his lower intestines.

I closed my eyes. My fists clenched. My teeth gritted. I tried to ignore the Dark Shadow’s perusal. But she is me, and I am her. Although, I was fearful that she was less me now and more her.

Mark shifted in his seat.

“Don’t move,” I whispered.

Me. Not her. She wanted him to run so she could give chase.

Stop, I said silently. Stop this.

He is prey.

No, he isn’t. He’s a friend.

A friend who fears you. A friend who regrets coming to see you. A friend who hates what you’ve become.

I inhaled before I could think better of it.

Burnt coffee and out-of-date milk.

I stood up and turned my back on Mark. Then with less precision and more desperation than I wanted to admit, I pushed his gun across the floor with her Sanguis Vitam to bang against his feet.

The Dark Shadow snarled deep down inside but retreated.

I breathed the first free breath I’d managed in the past five minutes.

I heard Mark pick up the gun and chamber a round. I knew he was aiming it at my back, right above my undead heart.

There was the sadness, I thought as it engulfed me.

There was the white lilies and loose leaf tea scent on the air.

I sighed.

Mark stood up behind me, no doubt making his way to the door, eyes and gun on me the entire way. I didn’t turn around.

He cleared his throat. I lowered my head. All too aware that my Dark Shadow was allowing me this human moment.

Then Mark said, “What the hell’s happened to you, Gigi?”

And calming chamomile tea filled the air.

3

Regret

I turned slowly to face him. But Mark wasn’t where I thought he’d be. I’m sure the Dark Shadow could have told me where exactly he was in the room, but all I got was a sense of amusement from her. Two months of being ignored and shoved to the back can make a vampire-within petty it seemed.

Mark stood in the middle of the room, closer to me, and nowhere near the door. As though he hadn’t thought of fleeing, but instead had approached and then thought better of it.

“You need to know,” I said softly, deathly softly, “that I am fully vampire right now.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means I’m more Dark than Light.”

He looked puzzled. Mark knew a thing or two about what I was, but he didn’t know I was Nothus. Half vampire, half vampire hunter. Hell, Mark didn’t even know that vampire hunters existed. He would have heard of the Nosferatu, but the Nosferatin? Not a chance.

Even vampires protect them from the Norms.

There should be balance in the world. Light to balance the Dark. Nosferatin to balance the Nosferatu. I’d been a mix of both, and until now, I hadn’t realised just how important my own internal balance was.

But had I been balanced before? My Dark Shadow would say not. And I was definitely not balanced now.

“You mean good and bad?” Mark asked. “Is that what you mean?”

“No,” I said and then forced myself to sit down.

Mark didn’t. But he also didn’t leave. Which was more than I could ask for right now.

“Not all vampires are fully Dark,” I said. “But some are Darker than others. Right now, I have more Dark in me than Light.”

I wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. My Light was still there; I just didn’t have access to it. My Dark Shadow did. Which was all kinds of screwed up.

“When the Dark is stronger, my moral compass is weaker,” I added. “Right now, you need to know what I am capable of.”

“And what are you capable of Georgia?”

“You know.”

“I’d like to hear you say it.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

I growled low and knew my eyes had flashed red, then said, “I fed off three unwilling donors tonight.”

“Donors?” Mark pressed.

“Men,” I said, perversely enjoying his discomfort. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. My lips parted, showing the tips of my fangs to my prey. Giving him a glimpse of the pleasures that awaited.

He took a step back.

“Rule one,” I growled. “Never run from a vampire.”

He stilled.

“This is not you,” he whispered. “I know you’re still in there somewhere. Fight it, Gigi. Fight it.”

The Dark Shadow peeked out from behind my eyes, and I heard Mark’s heart rate skyrocket. The rush of blood through his veins was like music on the air. The thud-thud-thud a bass accompaniment to the hunger that had surged with the Dark Shadow’s awareness. We’d just fed. But prey such as this did not come along that often. Inconsequential things like full bellies meant nothing when given a chance to hunt such worthy opponents.

He is worthy, the Dark Shadow said.

I licked my lips.

“Fight it,” Mark snapped.

Fight it? Why would we fight it?

I stood up from the chair, aware my moves were graceful. Lithe. Seductive. Mark swallowed nervously; lemon, lime and mint filling the air. I circled him. He moved with me; eyes on my face, hand on his hip.

No, I mentally corrected. He held the gun against his thigh with the muzzle pointed to the floor.

Silver, the Dark Shadow hissed. Worthy, she added.

She liked the idea of pitting herself against such odds.

“Gigi,” Mark said urgently. “Fight it.”

“Her,” I said.

“What?”

“My vampire-within is a she,” I said. “I call her my Dark Shadow.”

“Then fight her!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be your fucking dinner! And because you are more than just the part of you that is vampire. Because I know you. And this is not what the Georgia Deverell I know would want.”

“You’re wrong,” I said, leaning in and inhaling his signature scent. “Very wrong,” I purred.

Mark looked around the apartment with increasing desperation. He needed to work on that. Never show fear. His eyes landed on something on the floor, and he took a step in that direction.

I flashed to face him. He wasn’t getting away from me.

“Look down,” he said, holding my gaze.

I couldn’t glaze him; not successfully. But she didn’t like the challenge of having prey look her in the eye. I snarled.

“Look. Down,” he ordered.

I did. Why? I’ve no idea. It’s not as if Mark has Sanguis Vitam and can command me. But he is a cop. A damn good one. And when he goes all cop on you, it’s hard not to comply.

My eyes landed on the tea stain on the carpet. The tea I’d dropped when Mark had tried to comfort me. The tea I couldn’t drink because I’m vampire. And because I was too busy drinking him at the time.

“Do you remember?” he asked.

He’d tasted divine.

“Do you remember how you felt afterwards?” he pressed.

I shook my head. The Dark Shadow snarled inside.

“Do you remember the guilt? The shame?”

“Stop,” I whispered.

“Do you remember what you said to me?”

The Dark Shadow retreated. I sucked in a trembling breath of air.

“You apologised,” Mark said. “You apologised, Gigi. Is that what a vampire would do? Is that what she would do?”

“No,” I said.

“That was you,” Mark pressed. “And you’re still you. Somewhere in there, you’re the woman who felt wretched for feeding off a friend without asking.”

I looked up at him. He met my gaze with an unflinching one.

“What’s happened?” he asked again.

“Fairies,” I said with disgust.

“A fairy did this?”

I turned away; it was harder than I thought it would be. The Dark Shadow had retreated, but placing my back to Mark right then took more courage than it should have. I sat down on the couch in the lounge. We’d had little success with the dining room chairs. I thought perhaps a change of scenery would help.

The tea stain stared accusingly at me.

“Not just a fairy,” I said quietly. “But the Queen of the Dark fairies.”

“Fuck me,” Mark whispered and took a seat in an armchair. He hesitated; not quite sitting back on the chair, still on guard. “Are you…you again?” he asked.

“Mark,” I said in warning.

“I mean,” he quickly added, “have you got a handle on your…vampire-within or do I still need to keep the gun out?”

I closed my eyes. The Dark Shadow waited. Mark waited. I checked myself. I checked her. She flashed fang and turned around, placing her back to me inside my head.

“For now,” I said.

“Good,” he said, sitting back fully in his chair.

“Rule number two,” I whispered. “Never trust a vampire.”

He stared at me and then slowly nodded his head. He didn’t draw the gun again, but he positioned himself so that he could. I didn’t have the energy to tell him he’d never be able to reach the damn thing fast enough for it to be of any use.

“There have been three high profile disappearances over the past week,” Mark suddenly said. “We suspect one of those who was taken died in the attempt.”

My eyes met his.

“Too much blood at the scene of the abduction,” he clarified.

“That’s why you’re involved,” I guessed. Mark worked homicide.

“Yes.” He straightened his trousers, but he could do nothing for the creases that crisscrossed the material of his thighs. “We’ve chased down every piece of evidence we could find, every lead that seemed remotely connected to the crimes, every informant every single member of CIB has ever had, and still we’ve got nothing.”

“What makes you think the perpetrator is supernatural?” I asked. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think someone other than a Norm did this.

Mark shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t bother to inhale the scent. I was too scared the Dark Shadow would come back out to play. But there are other ways to determine emotions. And right now, Mark displayed the hallmarks of soggy wet wool to perfection.

“There were witnesses,” he said. “Well, there should have been. One guy was with his wife when he was taken. The other with his mistress. The third was walking her dog with her security detail in tow.”

Security detail. Mark had said high profile. But that wasn’t the point he was trying to make.

“They seemed confused and according to them,” he said, “saw nothing. I don’t believe it.”

“You think they were glazed?”

Mark winced. “Is that what you did to me?”

I said nothing.

“Is that what your friend did at Mt Eden Prison?”

Samson. He was talking about Samson. Samson hadn’t glazed him or used Sanguis Vitam; Mark had a natural defence of some sort against that kind of thing. Which, now that I thought about it, was damn good. It might just save him from me. But what Samson had done was very Dark. He’d altered reality for Mark. Changed his perception of what had transpired completely. It couldn’t be counteracted; the Dark is powerful. Sanguis Vitam and glazing can be; Mark is evidence of that. What Samson did, though, was permanent.

But Mark did know his reality had been changed; he just didn’t know who had done it.

I was keeping it that way.

Even the Dark Shadow agreed with me.

He is ours, she said simply.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“Georgia,” Mark said with a sigh. “You’re going to have to be honest with me if we’re to have any chance of working together.”

“Are you sure you still want to work with me?” I asked.

“It’s not about what I want; it’s about what the public needs.”

I guessed honesty went both ways.

OK. So, I could wallow in self-pity for the rest of the night, wasting my mini-break from Aliath The Soul-Sucking Fairy. Or I could do something constructive with my time. I’d already established that running wasn’t an option; the High Lord would find me. But if I kept myself busy, maybe I could distract my Dark Shadow enough that I could get a handle on this new dynamic.

I didn’t want to head back to Álfheimr before the Dark Shadow and I came to some arrangement. The next time I faced Queen Sofiq, I’d be in balance, and she’d be shit out of luck taming me.

Agreed, the Dark Shadow said.

I smiled. Mark stilled. My Dark Shadow retreated, sniggering quietly.

“There are different ways the witnesses could have been influenced,” I said, getting all of us back on track. “Glazing is an option. I’d have to see the witnesses to be sure, and the effects of glazing don’t last forever, so it’s likely I wouldn’t find anything now as too much time has passed.”

“If the glaze wears off won’t they remember?”

“No, not always. Which brings me to the other ways Norms can be influenced by the supernatural.”

Mark leaned forward. “Go on,” he said encouragingly.

I had to be careful what I revealed here. I had rules I had to follow, too. Not just my own rules, but those of the Master of the City. And although I was fairly sure I could stretch the limits of Jett’s patience, what with the amor certamen he and Samson had going on, I was also fairly sure that there was a limit to Jett’s patience when it came to disobeying his rules. Even for me.

I didn’t particularly want to find out what that limit was. So, staying within the Master of the City’s rules was still a good habit to keep. For now.

But I could generalise.

“Magic,” I said. “Both Fey and Shapeshifter.”

“Shapeshifter?”

“I did warn you,” I offered with a shrug. “There are more than just fairies and vampires walking amongst the Norms.”

“Great,” Mark muttered. “Can you provide a list for me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like my head exactly where it is on my shoulders.”

“What?”

I sighed again. “Mark. You’re a Norm. I can help you. I can even open up a little to you. But you have to accept that there are some things I cannot discuss with you. Some things that you simply don’t need to know.”

“If it has anything to do with this case, then I need to know.”

“No. You don’t. And I can’t tell you.”

“Then who do I see about it?”

I blinked at him, nonplussed.

“If you’re not high enough up the totem pole of supernaturals in this city, who is?”

“Are you mad?” I asked. The Dark Shadow cocked her head to the side and studied Mark. She was not impressed with this path he was taking.

Easy prey, she told me. No fun.

“Do you have a death wish?” I asked him.

“Of course not. But I need to know what I’m dealing with here, Georgia. Something messed with the witnesses’ heads, and now you’re telling me it could be someone other than a vampire, and I know fuck all about vampires and even less about what else is out there. And I need to know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“It’s my job.”

“And it’s my job to bridge that gap.”

He paused. I pressed on. If he didn’t get this through his thick skull, he would indeed be easy prey for Jett.

“We’re not good, Mark,” I said, leaning forward. “We’re steeped in Dark. There are Light creatures amongst us, but on the whole, most supernaturals have a hell of a lot of Dark. And Dark doesn’t stop to ask questions and make friends. Dark takes. Dark consumes. Dark kills. And it doesn’t give a fuck about the bodies it leaves in its wake.”

“You talk about Dark as if it’s a sentient being.”

I didn’t answer that. Instead, I said, “It’s in all of us. Humans too. But the supernaturals have more than the Norms do. Part of what makes a vampire a vampire is drawn from the Dark. All fairies, regardless of whether they are Dark Fey or Light Fey, have Dark in them. Shapeshifters too, although I’ve been told they fight it. But never underestimate the Dark, Mark. If you don’t want it to crawl into bed with you late at night, don’t pull back the covers.”

He stared at me for so long; I thought the conversation was over.

And then he said, “We’ll do it your way, for now, Georgia. But know this, if the perpetrator turns out to be one of yours, I want answers. And to hell with your Dark rules.”

I scowled as he pushed up from his chair and crossed to the door to leave.

“Are we gonna do this?” he asked when I didn’t follow him.

“Do what?”

“Track these bastards down and save some people.”

It was such a Light thing to say. Such a good cause to get behind.

Part of me still wanted to do what was right. But that part was getting harder and harder to reach. It would have been easy to turn my back on him and the Norms and deal with my own problems. But a distraction could be exactly what was needed. For me and my Dark Shadow.

If we could function in the capacity of consultant to the police department, then maybe we could function in other capacities too.

Hunt, the Dark Shadow said. It does not matter what we hunt as long as we hunt.

To her, it didn’t matter that the humans abducted were innocent.

All that mattered was she got to hunt down prey.

I could get onboard with that.

I stood up from the couch and stretched. I hadn’t meant it to be captivating, but Mark’s eyes followed the movement with a type of hunger that should not have been there.

It was only after we’d stepped out of my apartment that I realised I’d used Sanguis Vitam. Even with his anti-vampire mojo, he’d felt the blood life force call.

I needed to get a handle on this or soon the Georgia he knew would be no more.

4

Anger

I didn’t recognise the house we drove up to, but something about the black sedan parked out the front seemed familiar. The house itself was a refurbished bungalow; quite common for the suburb of Mt Roskill. The garden was well maintained with strategic lighting accentuating hundred-year-old rimu trees. There were security cameras hidden under the eaves on both sides of the central driveway.

I glanced to the left of the property and took in the bungalow next door. No security cameras, so this place was special. Mark slammed his door shut behind him as if this was the last place he wanted to be and he was taking out his frustrations on the vehicle. I shut mine more carefully as I inhaled and took in the prevailing scents on the breeze.

White lilies and loose leaf tea. Bittersweet dark chocolate. Bold grapefruit and lime. Soggy wet wool. Stringent ammonia. That last was wafting off Mark a fair bit, but most of it was coming from inside the bungalow.

Sorrow, fear, concern, discomfort, and anger. Quite a volatile cocktail.

I wrinkled my nose, and inside me, the Dark Shadow sneezed.

Mark hesitated before climbing the stairs to the front door. A uniformed cop stood off to the side on the wrap-around balcony. He acknowledged Mark but didn’t shift from where he could see the front of the property clearly.

Mark turned to me and said, “I’ll do the talking.”

“No good cop, bad cop then?” I asked.

“You’re not a cop,” he snapped back.

Touché.

Mark knocked on the door but didn’t wait for someone to answer. He simply turned the handle and stepped into the hallway. I went to follow him and slammed right into an invisible wall; something magical making me unable to take that next step. Fuck-a-quacking-duck. I needed an invitation to enter.

“Mark,” I hissed.

He turned back to look at me, confusion in his blue-grey eyes. Then it clicked. His mouth fell open and rounded into a surprised O; his face paled at the reminder of what I was and what he would now have to do.

“You are welcome inside this house, Georgia,” he said quietly so the uniformed cop couldn’t overhear. It wasn’t for my dignity. And then he added, “When I accompany you.”

I wasn’t sure that caveat was magically legal, but I felt the pressure preventing me from crossing the threshold disappear, and for now, that was enough. I took a step and only started breathing again once I’d crossed into the house proper.

Wooden floors with plush rugs greeted us. Artwork that my father would have adored hung on the walls at our sides. A hall table with a bowl of glass fruit carefully arranged to catch a chandelier’s light. I recognised it as something my mother had once had.

Maybe she still did.

Detective Grumpy Guts appeared from a room off to the side, his scowl at spotting me turning him from grumpy to crusty in a flash.

“This is who you had to go get?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Mark said stepping past him and not introducing me.

I smiled sweetly at the crusty old coot and followed behind Mark into a comfortable sitting room. A woman sat crying on a plump sofa, a throw wrapped around her shaking shoulders as her trembling hands held on tightly to a cup of tea. My eyes darted to the carpet, but there were no stains. The liquid in the cup quivered with every hitched breath she made. A female detective sat beside her; she acknowledged Mark with a short, “Sir.”

The crying woman looked familiar. She could have been part of my parents’ crowd, but Mt Roskill was a long way from Remuera. Even with the fine art in the hall. No, she seemed familiar for other reasons.

I inhaled surreptitiously, trying to get a bead on what was setting off my Spidey-senses. White lilies and loose tea engulfed me. She was so sad.

“Mrs Carrow,” Mark said moving towards her.

Carrow. My eyes darted around the room until they landed on a framed photograph. I found myself beside it and was unsure if I had flashed there or not. A quick look at those in the room told me no one had noticed. I leaned forward and took in the two people standing side by side in the picture frame…with the New Zealand Prime Minister next to them.

I stood upright again. Malcolm Carrow. Minister of Police.

Shit.

I turned to look back at Mark. He was watching me.

Tricky prey, the Dark Shadow murmured.

Three high profile disappearances; that’s what Mark had said. I looked back at the photograph. If the Prime Minister had gone missing, we’d all know about it.

Or would we?

I narrowed my eyes at Mark again, but he was too busy talking softly to Mrs Carrow.

“Nobody’s called,” she said in a shaky voice. “You said they’d call. Ransom.”

“I said they might,” Mark corrected gently.

The woman nodded. “That was within the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours. I remember.”

“Yes,” Mark said. “I’m sorry,” he added, and he meant it. Crushed daisy petals touched my senses; I brushed the useless emotion away. “I need to ask you a few more questions, Mrs Carrow,” he said. “Some of them might be repeated.”

“Oh, OK. If you think it might help.”

“Everything is important, Mrs Carrow. Everything.” Mark settled himself on the settee opposite her, I walked around behind it and checked into the room that ran off the back of this one.

Dining room. The table was bare, but the smell of roast beef still clung to the air. Not an emotion or signature scent, they’d eaten roast beef for dinner. I wondered if Mrs Carrow had managed much. When I turned around, Grumpy Guts was watching me. He didn’t look happy. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

“What time of the day was your husband taken, Mrs Carrow?”

Grumpy Guts turned his attention to Mark and scowled.

“It was late at night. We were getting ready for bed.” Mrs Carrow frowned slightly. “At least I think we were.”

“What’s the last thing you remember before realising your husband was gone?”

“I changed his toothbrush for him in the bathroom. He always forgets to do that. The bristles were bent in half. They wouldn’t have done much good for his tartar.”

“No, I suppose not. Anything else?”

She shook her head, a look of confusion crossing her features. “No. I don’t think so. Toothbrush and then I remember seeing the window open and Malcolm’s robe on the floor along with one slipper. And…and…the blood.”

“On the windowsill of your master bedroom?”

“Yes. You’ve seen it. Malcolm’s blood.”

Mark looked uncomfortable. Grumpy Guts looked confused. The female detective looked angry. At Mark. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Yes, she was angry with Mark for making Mrs Carrow relive what little she remembered of that night. Young cop. New cop. She’d learn.

“All right,” Mark said standing up. “Thank you, Mrs Carrow. I’m just going to show my associate the scene.”

Detective Grumpy Guts huffed out an unamused breath of air and gave Mark an incredulous look.

“Got any better ideas?” Mark whispered as he pushed past him.

“Why don’t you check a crystal ball while you’re at it,” Grumpy said back. “Tarot card? Ouija board?”

Mrs Carrow let out a gasp of pain at those careless words. Ouija boards were for the dead. I smiled at the crusty detective as I followed Mark out of the room and let him see a little of my undead.

He took a step back.

“Stop playing with my colleagues, Georgia,” Mark snapped from the base of the stairs.

I quickened my steps, suitably chastened. He glowered at me and then started up the treads.

The bedroom hadn’t been slept in for days. I could hardly blame Mrs Carrow for that. Mark stopped just inside the threshold of the room and watched me as I made my way around sniffing like a hound dog.

“Was she glazed?” he asked.

“Hard to tell,” I said. “Shock can make people vague.”

“You’re suggesting this is a…normal crime?”

Normal meaning human, I guessed.

“Maybe.” I hadn’t scented anything that led me to believe otherwise.

I inhaled more deeply and started sifting through the plethora of scents in the room. I picked out Mrs Carrow’s and what I assumed was the Minister’s because otherwise she’d been getting down and dirty with one of the cops. I smirked and looked into the ensuite bathroom. Definitely more of Mr and Mrs Carrow in there than any of the detectives.

I returned to the main room and looked at the bed. Then turned and looked at the two bay windows.

“This one?” I said walking toward the one on the left.

“Yes. Can you smell the blood?”

I could smell the blood, Malcolm Carrow, a faint hint of peaches, and something that smelled a lot like wet dog.

“Do they have a pet?” I asked.

“What? No. Is that significant?”

“Maybe,” I said, shaking my head.

I walked across the plush carpet that gave under the weight of my feet and leaned down to sniff at the windowsill. The blood had been wiped clean, but I could smell where it had been, and the bleach had followed. Fingerprint dust. Blood. Fear. Amusement. Wet dog.

Either a very happy, scary dog abducted the Minister of Police, or a shapeshifter did.

I stood back up.

“Verdict?” Mark pressed.

I needed to talk to Jett.

I turned and looked directly at Mark. “Someone took him. He was scared. They were amused at his fear. Mrs Carrow stood over here.” I walked to where her scent permeated the carpet. “Collapsing to the floor when she was influenced.” I held up my hand when Mark opened his mouth to speak. “Don’t know how. Could be a glaze. Might not be. I need to check a few things out at work.”

“Work?”

“I work for the Master of the City.”

“A vampire.” He practically spat the word.

“Yes,” I said, sounding like my Dark Shadow.

Mark looked up at my eyes and tried to hide his sudden fear and regret.

Yes, don’t push the twitchy vampire.

I asked her nicely to back down. She snarled and swiped at my insides and then retreated.

I managed not to wince at the pain her claws created. Clearly Nice Georgia was not a favourite of the Dark Shadow.

“You’re getting better at that,” I said.

“What?” he asked carefully.

“Trying to hide your emotions.” He blanched. “It won’t work with me, but it could with others. Keep practising.”

I walked toward the door back out onto the landing.

“That’s it?” Mark said rushing to follow me. “You don’t want to see - or smell - anywhere else? Mrs Carrow maybe? Or one of the other victims?”

I spun back around and stared at him. That’s right. He’d withheld information.

“Are they all members of parliament?” I asked, my voice low and threatening.

“Georgia,” Mark said in warning.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Two Labour, one National,” he finally admitted, naming the two main political parties that made up the New Zealand parliament.

“And one of them the Minister of Police,” I offered.

“I didn’t keep it from you on purpose. I mean,” he said, scratching at his already spiked up hair, “you were going to figure it out as soon as you got here.” He looked toward the front of the property even though he couldn’t see it from inside the house. “Parliamentary car,” he added.

That’s why the black sedan had seemed familiar. Its license plate had the obligatory CR on it. For Crown. And there’d been little placeholders for the flags alongside the bonnet for when it was on official business.

I stared at Mark for a moment and then turned and walked down the stairs.

“Georgia,” he said in a hiss. “I need more.”

“I don’t have more to give you right now, Detective,” I said as Grumpy Guts came out of the sitting room, arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed. “But I might do if I can just check on something.”

Mark ignored the pertinent look Grumpy was giving him and followed me out of the house and down the front steps.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“No need. I’ll be faster on foot.”

He grimaced at that reminder of what I was.

I’d made it to the roadside when I realised he hadn’t followed me past the property boundary. I turned to look back at him.

“I rescind your invitation,” he said.

I felt the magic or whatever the fuck it was that allowed me into the Carrow’s house slam into my chest. The Dark Shadow made me stand my ground, growling and pacing inside as she faced off against the detective.

I’m not sure what I was trying to prove, but the hurt I felt at Mark’s distrust of me and the fact that the Dark Shadow was righteously furious inside made me take the several steps between us, crossing the threshold of the property and snarling in Mark’s face.

“Be careful how far you push me, Mark,” I said. “If you want my help, you’ll play a little nicer.”

“You’re gonna blackmail me, Georgia?” he asked, standing his ground.

“What part of fully Dark do you not get?” I hissed.

“Can you get back in the Carrow’s home?” he asked quietly.

I looked up at the villa, feeling my Dark Shadow prowl from side to side. She snapped her teeth at Mark and hissed at the house, which I took to mean that no, I could not get back inside the Carrow’s home.

“No,” I said because I had to say something. Otherwise I was likely to hiss and spit like a wild animal. His vein had started to look very appealing as well.

Prey. Blood. Life, the Dark Shadow growled inside my mind.

“See?” Mark said mildly as if a pissed off vampire wasn’t standing within a foot of him. “I get exactly what fully Dark means.”

He turned and walked back toward the old villa. I wanted to shout at him to not place his back to a vampire. Any vampire. Especially me. But the uniformed cop on the balcony had watched our heated argument even if he hadn’t been able to hear it.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder and turned on my heel and walked off into the night. The shadows crept out to greet me. The moon hid behind a cloud and helped out. I pulled the Darkness around my body and let the Dark Shadow out.

I didn’t remember a moment of the journey from Mt Roskill to the CBD. But by the time I made it to Sensations, the Dark Shadow had been sated, and the skin across my belly felt a little too tight to be comfortable.

At least, for me.

5

Affront

Camilla Cabello’s Never Be The Same was playing on the stereo at Sensations. Something about seeing red and suddenly being a fiend. It sounded about right. I walked in through the front vestibule, ignoring the head nod greeting from the bouncer on the door; inhaling deeply and letting the scent of the Norms wash over me.

I’d started swaying before I’d even reached the dance floor.

The Norms had started moving closer before Camilla finished the first chorus.

I had a guy in front of me and a guy at my back within seconds; two pairs of hands skimming my sides, riding up over my thighs, slipping in under my shirt. Heat seared me. Scents assailed me. The music pumped in time to the blood in their necks.

My arms rose up and wrapped around the guy’s neck at my back as we swayed back and forth to the pulsing, rhythmic Cuban beat. The guy in front looked like all his Christmases had come at once. I’d certainly give him something to pray to God about.

The spell was cast, the web set, I licked my lips and tasted pine needles and musk. The humans around me were forgotten. The vampire at my side drew all my attention.

I pushed front guy back with a slow seductive touch of my hand to the centre of his chest. I leaned my butt out, pressing against back guy’s impressive erection, and then hip bumped him away as I twirled in front of Samson.

Samson. Samson. Samson.

My arms lifted above my head as I did a little shimmy before him and then I wrapped my hands behind his neck, pulling his taut body close to me. I could smell him. I could smell his scent. And underlying it all, I could smell his confusion.

Usually, I’m not able to get a handle on Samson’s emotions. My empathic talent fizzes out where he’s concerned. Normally, it’s because I’m angry around him. Or lusty. Take your pick. But tonight, the Dark Shadow was in the driver’s seat, and she’d had enough of pussyfooting around whatever it was Samson and I shared.

I leaned in and licked his neck and then followed it up with a nip of my teeth.

I’d fed from him before. Right here on this dance floor. I’d pressed my lips to his skin and let my fangs sink through to his delicious blood. And it had tasted divine. I was in no way hungry right now, but tasting Samson again made the Dark Shadow purr.

“Gigi,” he said; his deep English accented voice sounding husky and full of the sounds of sex. “Where have you been?”

“Around,” I said and pierced the lobe of his ear with a fang, following it up with a lick of my tongue.

His hands tightened on my hips, he pulled me closer, pressing my breasts up against his hard chest. He lowered his head and nuzzled my hair, inhaling deeply. I’m not sure what Samson scents when he breathes me in like this. My signature scent of course, but maybe more. Because every time he’s done it in the past, his whole body shivers as though it’s the most alluring, most addictive, most compelling thing he’s ever scented.

He’d done that when I was human too.

“A week,” he growled into my neck. “You’ve been gone a week.”

“Working,” I purred, running one hand down his front, over defined pecs and washboard abs and the most glorious cock a man could ever hope to possess.

“Babe,” he growled back at me. “What’s got into you?”

“Nothing. Yet.” I gave his arousal a squeeze, and he shuddered. “But you could change that.”

He made a sound. Halfway between a growl and a groan. His hands slowed their hungry perusal, and he inhaled deeply. Then his whole body stilled.

“You smell of the cop,” he said, voice low and threatening. “And of blood. A lot of blood. Gigi,” he hissed, pulling back and looking down at me, “what have you done?”

The Dark Shadow stilled inside and studied the vampire before her. I thought perhaps she was both angry at his assumption and intrigued. I was just tired all of a sudden.

“You know,” I said, stepping back, “you never passed up the chance to fuck before.”

“Is that what we would have been doing? Fucking?”

I turned and started pushing my way through the Norms towards the bar. Doug was manning it, along with a new bartender I didn’t recognise. My replacement. The Dark Shadow bared her fangs, and it took all I could do not to do the same.

Samson’s hand landed on my elbow, and he spun me back around to face him.

“You know damn well what we had before was not fucking.”

“Wasn’t it?” I asked and jerked my elbow free.

I made it to the bar this time and caught Doug’s eye. Doug smiled in greeting and then frowned at something over my shoulder. That would be Samson. Doug likes Samson; he does, really. But Doug does not like how Samson makes me feel. Well, usually makes me feel. Tonight was different and Samson knew it. But Doug was a little slow to catch on.

A Vanilla Vodka appeared before me and a soft tap of Doug’s fingers on my wrist in support. Samson slipped into the seat beside me and accepted a glass of whisky from the new barmaid. I studied her. She was pretty. And human. And she knew what Samson liked to drink without him having to ask.

My Dark Shadow hissed and arched her back inside. Right there with you, sister, I thought.

Competition, she said.

Not if I can help it.

The Dark Shadow settled, appeased at my announcement.

Just because I didn’t want to walk back down that path of loved-up bliss with Samson didn’t mean I’d let anyone else fill my shoes for me.

I turned to face the vampire in question.

“What have I missed?” I asked.

He let out a bemused breath of air. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

“You’ve changed,” he said. “I can see your Dark.”

“Does it match yours?” I enquired.

Samson looked away. He didn’t like his Dark. He’d fought hard and long to defeat it. Lucinda had saved him in the end but only because he’d wanted to be saved. He’d been awash in her Light until recently; when he’d used his reality-altering talent to alter Mark’s and a good portion of Mt Eden Prison’s realities. Since then, the Dark had not retreated. He’d lost a little of his Light.

It amused me, in a detached kind of way, that we both had the same problem.

“Jett’s been looking for you,” he said, not meeting my eyes.

“Warpath kind of looking?”

“Possibly. It’s hard to tell with Jett; he always looks ready for battle.”

He is also worthy, the Dark Shadow murmured. That, too, was a path I’d rather not tread.

“Where have you really been, Gigi?” Samson asked again.

“Álfheimr,” I said, taking a nonchalant sip of my vodka mixer.

“What?”

“Paying back a debt.”

“You owe a fairy? Are you mad?”

“Beginning to look that way,” I muttered.

Samson swallowed the whole of his whisky in one hit and held the glass up to the barmaid to refill it. She jumped to carry out his command. I cocked my head at her and watched as she poured the drink. She had some skills. She smiled widely at Samson when she slid the topped up glass across the bar to him. I draped my arm over his shoulder and started playing with his hair, and then gave him a hickey.

When I looked back up, she was down the other end of the bar, face flushed, Doug between her and me. He flashed me a warning look. I smiled back. The Dark Shadow laughed.

“All right,” Samson said. “Who the hell are you and what have you done with Georgia?”

I smiled at him and winked.

He didn’t smile back. He looked worried. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

“Well,” I said, “if there’s nothing else to report.”

“Lucinda and Michel left while you were gone.” He sounded sad. I stopped breathing. “She wanted you to know that she could come back at any time…”

“I don’t need her.”

“I know. She knows. Just…”

“Thanks.” I stood up, saluted Doug and said, “Gotta see a man about a dog.”

And walked toward the back of the bar.

Samson didn’t follow, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire way across the busy clubroom floor. I could still feel his Sanguis Vitam after I’d entered the code to the private area of Sensations and closed the reinforced door behind me.

I leaned back against it for a moment and tried to catch my breath. A shaky laugh slipped out at the thought of needing to breathe at all. Amateur.

I shook my head, dusted myself down, and then walked down the hall on the left that would lead me to the Master of the City’s office and chamber.

He was waiting for me. Any number of vampires could have told him I was back in town and that I was here. Hell, even Doug could have. He’s not one of Jett’s vampires, but he does work for him. Samson does too, come to think of it. I pushed those useless thoughts aside and strode into the Master of the City’s lair.

He was leaning back in his office chair, long legs extended before him, hands clasped behind his curly head of dark hair, the shirt he was wearing stretched tight across oversized muscles, his crooked nose having no ill effect on his striking features. He looked decadent and powerful and layered in wicked sin and debauched thoughts.

My Dark Shadow approved.

I did too if I were honest about it.

“Hey,” I said and threw myself into the seat opposite him.

“Hey?” he asked, sounding not in the least amused. “Hey, after seven days of no word?”

“Aliath,” I said and he growled.

I watched him as he got his vampire-within under control again. It didn’t take long. I was pretty damn sure Jett and his vampire were in tune with each other.

“You are forgiven,” he announced.

“Thank you,” I said dryly.

“What did the fairy want?”

Lying to a master vampire was a tricky business. Lying to Jett could prove fatal. There was that whole amor certamen to think about. It might save me. But it would probably still hurt.

So, I deflected.

“Three members of parliament have been abducted. Heard anything about that?”

Jett leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. His azure gaze pinned me to my seat. I felt his Sanguis Vitam before I’d registered what the colour change in his eyes meant. It wrapped around me and stroked me in places it should not have been.

“Jett,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Hush, kitten. I am thinking.”

And feeling me up helped him think?

My Dark Shadow only purred.

Hussy, I snapped at her.

She rolled over onto her back and writhed sinuously.

I let out a breath and ground my teeth.

“I suspected something when parliament was called back from their break early,” Jett finally said. “But I did not know that three members had gone missing.”

His gaze pierced me.

“Who?”

“I only know of one. Malcolm Carrow. Minister…”

“Of Police,” Jett finished for me. “Has your detective called on your services again, Georgia?”

“Yes.”

“What does he suspect?”

“Foul play?” I offered.

Jett smiled. It was in no way friendly.

His Sanguis Vitam slapped me on the butt. I made a squeaking sound that segued into a hiss.

The Sanguis Vitam retreated. The air between us thickened. Jett’s eyes had gone from azure to turquoise and cyan. He studied me as if I held the answers to the universe. Then he slowly leaned forward. The Dark Shadow had stopped playing slutty and was sitting up, on high alert. She held me firm, but I didn’t need her backbone at that moment. I knew exactly how dangerous Jett currently was.

“Where is your Light?” he growled.

Fuck. How did he…?

His Sanguis Vitam wrapped around my neck and hauled me up off the chair, feet dangling.

“Fight me, kitten,” he said.

I closed my eyes. My fists clenched; there was nothing to hold onto; my arms straight down at my sides. I wasn’t even struggling. Struggling would get me nowhere and would only make me look weak. I remained still. Silent.

And asked the Dark Shadow, Any ideas?

We have Light, she said.

Of course, we did. She just had to give it to me.

I waited. Jett waited.

The Dark Shadow slowly pushed the Light toward the part of my mind where I could reach it.

We are not prey, she said.

Damn straight we’re not.

I slammed my Light into Jett and watched him writhe. His Sanguis Vitam otherwise occupied, I slumped to the floor and struggled back upright before he noticed his effect on me. By the time I sat back in my chair, Jett had come down from his pleasure/pain high.

“That is better,” he said, sighing. He looked like he’d just gone a round or two with a sex-crazed energiser bunny.

More likely, Playboy Bunny.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?” I demanded.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice deep and melodic.

Yeah, right. Thanks, Aliath. Some spell you cast there. Jett might no longer desire me joining his line, but he sure as hell still desired me. But I couldn’t lie to Jett. Well, I could, but he’d smell it a mile off and I’d pay for it.

Time to get his mind elsewhere.

“What smells of wet dog?” I asked.

His head tipped forward, from where he’d been resting it on the back of his chair and enjoying the afterglow of my Light. Azure looked back at me again.

“Any number of things, but I gather you mean supernatural,” he said.

“Yes.”

“The abductions.”

“Yes.”

“What else did you scent at the scenes?”

“Just one scene and aside from wet dog, the victim was scared and the abductor amused.”

I watched Jett closely for any sign of impending subterfuge.

“I know there’s more than one type of shapeshifter,” I said, “but I also know that New Zealand is home to the Taniwha. Do Taniwha smell of wet dog, Jett?”

“Yes,” he said. “But there are no more Taniwha in Auckland City. Lucinda saw to that.”

What? The Nosferatin ran them out of town?

“Work with your detective, Georgia,” Jett instructed. “And keep me informed. If the Taniwha are back, I want to know.”

OK. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be a Taniwha by the steely glint I saw in Jett’s eyes right then.

I stood up and crossed to his office door, which had somehow shut behind me when I’d entered and I hadn’t even noticed.

Does a vampire still scream if they’re locked behind a soundproofed door?

I shook my head and reached for the handle. It didn’t budge when I rattled it.

I looked over my shoulder at Jett.

He smiled. Nope, not friendly.

“One more thing,” he said and I felt my Dark Shadow shudder. “Have you chosen?”

Had I chosen a mate.

Him or Samson. As far as they were both concerned, I was going to pick one of them and pick one of them soon.

“No,” I said and the Dark Shadow offered me my Light.

I didn’t aim for Jett. He’d only get off on it. I threw it at the door as the Dark Shadow threw her Sanguis Vitam along with it. Light and blood life force combined. The door blew back off its hinges, slivers of wood flying in every direction, Jett’s Sanguis Vitam snapping back to him where he still sat.

We are not prey to be trapped, she said.

Damn straight, I agreed and stomped out the door.

6

Betrayal

The night was still young in vampire terms, and as I was on a deadline with the fairy, I decided I’d touch base with Mark again and see if I could get anything at any of the other abduction scenes. As soon as Aliath whisked me away to Álfheimr, I’d be useless to the police. And despite evidence to the contrary, I did still want to help the Norms.

The Dark Shadow sniffed at that but said nothing.

I slipped my cellphone out of my pocket and dialled the detective. He answered on the eighteenth ring. I didn’t need the Dark Shadow’s flash of claws to feel aggrieved.

“Georgia,” he said, resignation dripping off my name.

“Mark.”

I let the silence expand between us, filling up all the gaps I wanted to fill with recriminations.

“What can I do for you?” he finally said, the resignation replaced with wariness.

A part of me hated that he felt this way. A part of me understood. And a part of me that was currently steeped in Darkness didn’t give a flying fuck.

“The other scenes,” I said. “I should check them out. See if there’s anything more I gain that might help.”

“Did you get permission from your…boss to tell me what you found out at the Carrows?”

It took effort to suppress the growl.

“I’ll know more once I scent the other scenes,” I said.

He sighed. “All right, I’ll text the addresses. One was outside, so you don’t need me there. But the other was home when he was taken. Well, his girlfriend’s home not his.”

“We’ll start there then,” I said and hung up.

I stood still, listening to the sounds of Auckland City late at night, taking in the smells of a metropolitan area when all the shops are closed. I could hear the loud thump of music from a nearby club. I could smell the distinct scent of marijuana on the air. I picked out a couple having sex in their apartment above a popular department store. I homed in on someone being mugged. A cheek was slapped somewhere.

Then my cellphone buzzed with the addresses, and I came back to myself. I checked the screen and then bled into the shadows, aware my momentary lapse of motion had been caused by more than a desire to catalogue my surroundings. That had been me at one time; laughing, drinking, loving, arguing. That had been me.

I made it to the girlfriend’s address before Mark did. Pumped up on so much human blood, I felt invincible. Speed and shadows my friend. I stood across the street from the block of flats she lived in, trying not to listen/scent/feel. The Dark Shadow thought I was being ridiculous.

Are we not a hunter? she said.

I said nothing.

Mark’s unmarked police sedan rolled to a stop outside the entrance to the two storey building. I saw him speak into his radio; I could have listened but chose not to. And then he checked his service weapon, his reflection in the mirror, and stepped out. He looked around, his eyes sweeping over where I hid. He didn’t see me.

Prey, the Dark Shadow said.

No, I replied and left the shadows.

Mark noticed me when I wanted him to notice me. Partway across the road, as if I’d simply just arrived.

“Right,” he said as if bolstering himself up for what was likely to come. “This way, then.”

“No hello?” I asked.

“This isn’t a social call,” he replied.

“Pity. I’ve got such good party tricks.”

He gave me a grim look and then walked up to one of the ground floor flats and knocked on the ranch slider.

A light flicked on inside, and a curtain was pulled back. A young woman, mid-twenties I’d say, peered out at Mark’s police badge as he held it up to the light.

“Ms Wyeth?” he said. “Detective Anderson, CIB. This is my associate. Can we come in, please?”

She opened the door and looked up at him. I didn’t need to inhale to recognise hope.

“You’ve found him?”

“Ah, no, ma’am,” Mark said. “We just need to ask a few more questions.”

“Oh, all right. Come in.”

She turned away so missed Mark’s wince. I’d been invited in, and he couldn’t rescind the invitation. She had to. He looked over his shoulder and gave me another grim stare; this one spoke volumes.

I stared back and let the Dark Shadow out; just a little. Back off!

He scowled and crossed through to the open plan living/dining/kitchen. Rather like my apartment, I thought. Minus the tea stain on the carpet.

Ms Wyeth took a seat on the couch, reaching forward to switch the TV off. I didn’t catch what she’d been watching. From the look of her, I doubted she’d been actually watching it at all.

Mark stood off to the side, a large man looming over a frightened young woman. It wasn’t like him, but I was guessing the whole invitation thing had thrown him off. He wasn’t used to protecting people behind their own locked doors. It messed with his sense of what was right.

I stepped forward and took a seat opposite the woman. Time was marching. Someone had to get this show on the road.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” The Dark Shadow would have rolled her eyeballs if she’d had them. “Can you tell me where you were when…” I realised I didn’t even know the name of the MP who had been abducted. “When you think he was taken.”

I shot Mark a glare. He scowled back.

“In the bedroom,” she said. “I remember we’d just, well, you know, and he was lying in bed while I went to the bathroom. I don’t think I made the bathroom, because the next thing I remember was waking up on the floor, and the bed was empty.”

“Why do you think he was taken and didn’t just leave?”

She grimaced, a flush sweeping up her cheeks.

“All his clothes were still there,” she said quietly. But she wasn’t sure. She had doubts.

I was pretty sure he was taken; he was still missing after all. But the poor girl didn’t have the sort of relationship with the guy that guaranteed loyalty.

I looked at Mark. He was looking at the woman with compassionate eyes. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Then pushed it away as a waste of time.

“Is there anything else you remember about that night?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Nothing out of place in your apartment?”

“No,” she said. “Just David missing.”

The name didn’t tell me much. But I’d address that with Mark later.

“Ms Wyeth,” I said, making her raise her face and look me in the eye.

I glazed her. It was easy. Exactly how it should be. Except for freaks of nature like Mark.

“Remember,” I said, my voice deep and multilayered. The Dark Shadow’s voice.

“What are you doing?” Mark said, stepping forward.

“Helping you,” I said, my voice again mine.

I watched as the woman’s face blanked and all life slipped from her eyes. An automaton sat before me, mouth slack, breaths slow, hands lying impotently at her sides.

“Remember,” I said again, the Dark Shadow rising. “Tell me what you see of that night?”

“Shapes,” she whispered. “So dark,” she said. “Shark.”

And then she promptly fell over sideways onto the couch, not making a sound.

Mark rushed forward and checked her pulse and breathing. His hand shook slightly. His face was pale. I sat back and watched as he positioned her more carefully on the settee, purposefully not looking at me.

“Is that normal?” he asked when he was done, still not making eye contact. “The passing out,” he clarified.

“No,” I said and stood up.

I walked into the attached bedroom. You couldn’t exactly get lost in here; it was tiny. Members of Parliament got paid a lot; you’d think he’d set his mistress up in something nicer. But once I reached the bed, I realised where his priorities were. The bed was enormous, luxurious, and adorned with all manner of sex toys.

I stared at it for a moment and then glanced at the window. Another ranch slider. I walked toward it and inhaled, scenting the woman’s signature scent and several others. I had no way of knowing which was the minister’s, but I catalogued each, finding no crossover to Malcolm Carrow. I walked back to the bed and leaned down to sniff it. The woman and one man. At least, she was faithful, and I had the MP’s scent now.

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Do you need to know?” Mark replied from the doorway.

I didn’t need to know, but it rankled that he was keeping information from me. A reminder that I was simply a tool and not a partner. Jett, though, would want to know. And curiosity was getting the better of me.

I stood up and faced him.

“Quid pro quo,” I said. “You want what I’ve got; I want to know who the MPs are who’ve been taken and what the connection is.”

“We’re not sure about the connection, other than they’re all members of parliament. Two from the Labour Party and one from National as you already know. And since when was this an even exchange of information.”

“Since I have information to give.”

He stared at me. I stared back. Mine was more impassive than his.

“Georgia,” he said, cracking first. “We’re trying to keep this out of the press.”

“And you think I spend my free time gossiping with reporters?” I asked dryly.

“Your boss,” he said. “Master of the City you called him. Sounds like he might be the kind of…man who manipulates situations to his best advantage. How do I know you won’t share this information with him and he then won’t use it for his own purposes?”

“You don’t.”

He threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

“Then I can’t tell you more than you need to know,” he said. “And you don’t need to know names.”

“I know of Malcolm Carrow.”

“Couldn’t avoid that, seeing as he was taken at home. But I’m not giving you more.”

I stared at him; he wasn’t going to cave. I could have withheld what I’d discovered, but he’d think I was being petty. My Dark Shadow disagreed.

We are not easy, she said.

If we work with him now, give him a show of faith, it might help us out in the future, I countered.

She said nothing, letting me judge what was the right path to take regarding human relations.

“They used this ranch slider,” I said, indicating the one in the bedroom. “Their scent is not in the lounge.”

“OK. We couldn’t find any prints.”

I shook my head. “No, you wouldn’t.” They’d been in their alternate forms. Their supernatural forms. Taniwha smelling of wet dog. “They’re shapeshifters,” I said, not prepared to tell Mark what shape they took just yet.

I needed to do some research of my own. I had a basic knowledge of what the Taniwha looked like, but I’d never met one. Until now, I thought they simply kept to themselves. But clearly, that had been a wrong assumption. Lucinda’s sticky mitts were all over their absence. And I knew exactly who to ask about that.

The Dark Shadow perked up at the thought.

I ignored her.

“None of those present tonight were present at the Carrow’s house,” I said to Mark.

He frowned. “They were taken on separate nights.”

“So far,” I said, “I smell four different scents for your abductors.”

“Four different shapeshifters,” Mark said, voice uneven.

“Yes.”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“How the hell do I tell my chief that?” he said.

I smiled. It wasn’t friendly. Although it was amused.

“Welcome to my World, Detective.”

“Funny,” he said, not sounding entertained at all. “Anything else?”

“No.”

He stared at me. “What am I dealing with here, Georgia?”

“I can’t possibly guess if I don’t have all the facts.”

“You’re not getting the names.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

I walked to the ranch slider and opened it up, letting the scents of the night invade my nostrils. I stepped out and inhaled deeply. No threats nearby. Just the night calling.

I’d never felt as comfortable with the darkness as I did right at that moment.

Hunt, the Dark Shadow said. Hunt mate, she added.

And there went my enjoyment in the evening.

“You think this is a game?” Mark said from behind me.

I turned and looked at him, but said nothing. Silence is often a good tool.

“What kind of shapeshifter? Werewolves? Werewolves exist, right? Are there others? What took these people, Georgia? Am I dealing with claws and sharp teeth? Larger than a grizzly? It wasn’t the full moon. How did they change? Should I be worried that it is the full moon in three days? Georgia,” he said, looking ragged and exhausted already. “Help me out here. Help me keep my people safe.”

His people. Because they were no longer my people. I was no longer a human. A Norm. I was the monster who hunted them as my prey. Just like these shapeshifters were. Did Taniwha hunt humans? Is that why Lucinda had run them out of Auckland? Would she feel the pull if one of them attempted to kill? Would I?

Which made me realise I hadn’t felt the pull all night. I wasn’t sure what to think about that. I hadn’t drawn a stake since before Álfheimr either. I suddenly wondered if I still could. I needed an invitation to enter a human’s home now. Would silver harm me? I didn’t want to know.

I shook my head. How much could I tell Mark and not have Jett use his Sanguis Vitam on my throat?

He did say work with the detective. To do that, Mark needed to be prepared.

“I’ve never met one,” I said. “Only heard about them.” I didn’t tell him they weren’t meant to be here still. That seemed like a supernatural problem, something Jett would sharpen his fangs on if he knew I had shared it. But I did add, “These ones are native to New Zealand; I know that much. They smell like wet dog.”

“Wet dog? Like a werewolf, then?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I’ll find out.” Whether I could get that information to Mark before Aliath came calling, I wasn’t sure.

I looked up at the night sky. The moon was almost gone.

Fuck my life. Samson would already be at home.

I pushed the excitement my Dark Shadow felt at that thought aside and concentrated on Mark.

“OK,” he said. “Good,” he added, resolution and determination wafted off him. “If you could get that to me as soon as you can, I’d be grateful.”

It was the first time he’d shown gratitude at all.

“There’s one more thing you need to know,” I said.

He stilled, looking wary now. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

It no longer hurt. I was numb to it now. You feel something enough; you become desensitised to it. I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not.

“What?” Mark asked.

“They’re New Zealand natives,” I said. “We call them Taniwha.”

“Jesus,” Mark whispered. “The myths are true?”

Māori myths, he meant. In Māori folklore, Taniwha were considered both sacred and monstrous. Water guardians with predatory leanings.

“Shark, she said,” Mark whispered. “Nancy Wyeth called them sharks.”

“I suggest you do some reading,” I offered.

“Yeah,” he said, still whispering. “And you?”

“Our legends are handed down in a different way.”

“You’re going back to your boss?” He didn’t seem happy about that.

I shook my head and looked off towards where I knew St Heliers Bay waited.

Where Samson waited.

“A friend,” I said, not sure if I could call him that again or not. But knowing I couldn’t call him my lover.

Not now. Not ever. Betrayal by a friend was somehow easier to contemplate than betrayal by a lover.

I looked back at Nancy Wyeth’s flat and wondered if she feared her lover would one day betray her.

I’d never place myself in that position again.

7

Shock

The sun was still a few minutes off when I made it to St Heliers. I’d used the shadows and flashed here, simply because I could. I still would have made it with time to spare if I’d taken a taxi. I wondered if the choice I’d made said something about how Dark I was becoming or if it said more about how much of my new life I was accepting without pause.

Part of me knew the acceptance was not a good thing. I was way too screwed up to be happy with what I was and where I was going with it.

The Dark Shadow prowled inside me, her senses on high alert, her excitement palpable. Just because she was excited didn’t have to mean I was. She was part of me, but she was not all of me. I refused to be excited about this.

He is worthy, she said.

We don’t need a mate, I argued.

You do.

Did that mean she didn’t? But vampires only mated vampires, so…

It was an answer to a question I wasn’t ready to ask.

The house looked the same as it always did. The shutters hadn’t lowered yet, so I had time to take it in, lit up from within, the warmth of the lights glowing like a beacon, drawing me to him. It was a nice house. Not many weren’t out here. Sea views. Up on a cliff overlooking the Hauraki Gulf out towards Rangitoto Island. Along the front of the house were floor to ceiling windows. Upstairs and down. At night you could see the lights on Waiheke Island in the distance and the closer ones that marked the shipping channel.

I knew because I’d watched them. With my lover.

When I’d met Samson, he’d been living in the house with four of Lucinda’s entourage but not Lucinda. She’d been missing. I didn’t know they were vampires and I didn’t know Lucinda was missing. He’d kept that all from me. I’d known the house wasn’t his, because he hadn’t slept in the master bedroom. His bedroom was nice, had its own ensuite bathroom, but it wasn’t as nice as the master suite.

I’d looked.

The others hadn’t slept in there either because that had been Lucinda’s room. Hers and Michel’s. But at the time, they’d all thought Michel dead. Talk about secrets. They’d had plenty. I’d had none. Human girl, estranged from her parents, trying to make a go of it in the City of Sails, new bartender at Sensations.

I wondered, bitterly, if they’d all shared a laugh at my ignorance. At my humanity.

The vampires that had lived with Samson had pretty much kept to themselves. I would hear them down in the cellar’s gym. Slamming a door as they went out at night. I knew they consisted of three males and one female, but Samson’s and my relationship was new; a whirlwind of lust and love and hunger. So, I didn’t know their names and I sure as hell hadn’t made an impression on any of them.

Until I turned.

Then it all came out in all its ugly glory. Lucinda having returned from hiding away in South America. And then Faery. Michel back from the dead. Marcus and Matthias claiming their rightful spot back under the master vampire’s line. Sergei and Nataliya belonging to the Lux Lucis Tribuo. As did Samson. All three of them vampires under Lucinda’s prophesied title.

And things got complicated. Forget about my new nighttime cravings. We had baggage, Samson and me.

I let out a little breath of air, which puffed in the cold predawn light, and then crossed the street and walked up the front stairs.

The door opened before I reached it. And he stood there.

Mate, the Dark Shadow whispered.

Betrayer, I said back.

“Georgia,” Samson purred.

“I’m not here for a booty call,” I snapped and stormed inside.

Vampire house, not human house meant no invitation needed. I thanked Lucinda’s Goddess Nut for that. I did not want to detail my weaknesses in front of this man.

Mate, the Dark Shadow corrected.

Betrayer, I snarled back.

She only laughed.

I gritted my teeth and turned around, once I’d made it into the lounge. Modern expensive furnishings, fine art, wood accents. None of it compared to the vampire who stood before me, hungrily eating me up with his cinnamon coloured eyes.

“You look good, babe,” he said. I could practically hear the unspoken. Good enough to eat.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Lucinda and…”

I waved a hand dismissively. “The others. Did they go too?”

“Marcus and Matthias are part of Lucinda’s guard. As are Sergei and Nataliya. They have all moved to London with their mistress.”

“But not you.” We’d been over this. Samson had declared he would never leave me. I was more inclined to believe Lucinda had left him behind. To watch over me.

And here I was about to reinforce that theory by asking for information about the Taniwha.

Great.

I threw myself into a chair, hanging a leg over the armrest; making myself at home.

Samson smiled, then glided across the room and sat opposite me. He flicked a hand, and the shutters came down. It was either timed to perfection, or he was displaying more of the hidden talents he’d kept from everyone.

There was more to Samson Beauregard than what you could see.

“Trapped,” Samson said with glee.

My Dark Shadow snarled. I joined her. Samson laughed.

“If you did not wish to spend the daylight hours with me, you would not have come knocking on my door at dawn.”

“Necessity is a bitch.”

He sat forward.

“What do you need?”

That was Samson. I might be angry with him. I might want to fight him for the sake of fighting him. But no matter what I did or said or felt, he would always be there for me.

Mate, the Dark Shadow purred.

And Jett? I asked, because why the hell not? We were clearly going to have this conversation one day, and Samson needed to cool his thrusters off.

You like Samson, she said.

And you? I asked.

Both are worthy.

But she’d accept Samson over Jett because of me.

I’d never felt all warm and fuzzy about my Dark Shadow before, and I refused to do so now, but cotton candy and caramel popcorn spilt out into the room.

Just as well Samson couldn’t scent emotions otherwise he might have thought I was happy to see him.

I cleared my throat. Samson grinned back at me.

Maybe he could scent something.

“Information,” I announced. “I’m here for information and nothing else.”

“And yet it is day, and you must accept my hospitality or face the sun’s light.”

“My timing sucks, so what?”

Samson’s grin widened.

“You gain sustenance from my vein. Shelter at my home. Knowledge from my past. And succour at my side. Am I not already your chosen?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, vampire.”

“I wouldn’t dare, love.”

I glowered at him. He laughed; then stood up and walked to the drinks cabinet. He took a Vanilla Vodka from the inbuilt fridge and poured himself a whisky and then returned to the couches. I stared the mixer down.

“Freely given,” Samson said dryly.

I huffed and accepted the drink.

He sat down in a sinuous glide. Jeesh, he was really putting on a performance tonight.

“Does Jett know you are here?” he asked, taking a sip of his scotch.

“I don’t have to tell him everything,” I snapped.

“Have you seen him at all tonight?”

“Checking up on your opposition?” I asked archly.

“The amor certamen requires we share your attention equally until you make your final choice.”

Fuck. A. Duck.

“And if I choose neither of you?”

“You started this.”

“How?” I practically shouted.

“Feeding off me for one. As for Jett, what did you do to gain his vampire’s attention?”

Aliath. Fucking fairy.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

“Georgia? What did you do? Have you fed off him?”

Yes. I shook my head, my lips in a thin line.

“You have.” Bloody hell. How did he do that?

“Are you reading my mind?” I demanded.

He ignored me.

“When? No, better yet. Did his blood sustain you? Fill you? Make love to you from the inside out?”

I blinked at him.

He grinned.

“It didn’t, did it? It did none of that.”

“I’m not here to discuss Jett with you,” I growled.

Samson grinned, sitting back and taking a long swallow of his drink. I watched his throat move as the amber liquid went down. I hadn’t realised his Sanguis Vitam was already wrapped around me. Wrapped around my own blood life force.

Slut, I said to the Dark Shadow.

Coward, she snapped back.

Whore.

Mouse.

Ooh, nasty. Mice were prey. I was no one’s prey.

Better, she murmured and pulled her Sanguis Vitam back.

Samson managed one last stroke of his power down my body and then it disappeared.

“Well, if you’re not here to declare your undying love for me, what can I help you with?” he asked.

“Taniwha,” I said.

“New Zealand’s shapeshifters? What do you need to know?”

“Why did they leave Auckland?”

“Their Alpha tried to kill Lucinda,” he said simply. “Lucinda didn’t want to die.”

“She killed him? Or her?”

“Him. His name was Rick, and he was her best friend before he knew what she was.” He meant before he knew she was a Nosferatin. “She watched him kill his Alpha, a good man named Jerome. And then he took the Hapū, or pack, in a dangerous direction. He turned it against the Nosferatu. Michel did not like that.”

“So, there’re no more shapeshifters in Auckland,” I said.

“No Taniwha in any case. I’m sure some others slip in from time to time. Possibly unobserved. But there is a moratorium on Taniwha presence in the city.”

“So, where did they go?”

“Gregor took them.”

“Gregor? The Master of Wellington City?”

“Yes. Shapeshifters need to be near other supernaturals. They are subject to our laws, and a Master controlled city is safest for them. Wellington is the only other Master controlled city in New Zealand, and the Taniwha would never leave our shores.”

“What happens if they come back?”

“If they return to Auckland before its Master lifts the moratorium, they’ll be killed on sight.”

So, why risk coming back to abduct a couple of politicians, if you could abduct them far away in Wellington where parliament sits?

“This doesn’t make any sense,” I muttered.

“What doesn’t?”

I shook my head.

Samson leaned forward in his seat, his whisky forgotten.

“Let me help you, Gigi,” he said, earnestly.

“So you can get one up on Jett in this amor certamen?” I snapped.

“So I can help you,” he simply repeated.

Abruptly, his whole demeanour changed. He looked down at the floor, thinking hard, and then chocolate and taupe eyes came back up to look at my face.

“I need to help you,” he whispered. “Babe,” he said, “you may not have accepted me as your vampire mate, but I have; my vampire-within has. I can no further walk away from your troubles than I can survive without blood to drink. A life without you is meaningless. You are my reason for existence. My soul, if we have such a thing, is lost without you. I would lay down my life for you to live. I am yours.”

“Samson,” I said; shocked, horrified and equally enchanted.

“You do not have to choose. Not yet. Not today. But, please, allow me to help you. Allow me this.”

“Why?” I said, leaning forward. It was as if our bodies were drawn to each other without our say. “So you can betray me again?”

“Georgia,” he snapped. “Tell me you would not have behaved the same way.”

I sat back in my chair, putting distance between us. Distance between my heartache and our history. Distance between me and the truth.

I’d been so hurt, so angry, so scared when I’d been turned. My Sire had abandoned me. I should have been dead. I’d wanted to be dead. But Lucinda and her ever-present Light had saved me when all I could feel was Darkness, and all I had wanted was to chase death. I’d baulked at all her goodness. I’d shied away from all that Light. And then there was Samson, who’d understood this frightful world I’d woken up in, who was tied to Lucinda and her Light in a way I never could be.

He’d known. He’d not told me. My anger had turned on him.

Because Light is stronger than the Dark and I couldn’t give all of my rage to the Nosferatin who had saved me. So I gave the bulk of it to him.

He said nothing. His face a vampire mask of blankness. Protecting himself as I had tried to protect myself but in a much less confrontational way.

I’d hurt him. I knew that. In some ways, I’d done it on purpose. In others, it had been unintentional. I was a newly turned vampire. Half-vampire mixed with half-nosferatin. I was a mess. And he had lost something too. I could admit that. He had lost the part of me that was human.

I wondered if it was my humanity that had attracted him to me in the first place. And then I wondered if he was attracted to the new barmaid at Sensations in the same way.

And then I played those words he’d just said over in my mind, and I knew, even if part of Samson had been all Light at one time, drawn to the Light of a human, he was Darker now. Closer to his vampire. Just as I am closer to my vampire-within, too.

And as a vampire, would I have done anything differently had I been in Samson’s shoes? I refused to tell Mark everything there is to know about supernaturals, about vampires in particular. I know the consequences are grave should I fail to follow the rules. Not just Jett’s rules, but the Iunctio’s rules. Even Nut’s rules.

But I’m not in love with Mark. I was in love with Samson. Still am, if I’m honest.

What wouldn’t I do for love?

“Love of a human,” Samson said.

“What?”

“You were human, Georgia. I was vampyre. Never the twain shall meet.”

“Is it that simple? Or is it just an excuse?”

He stared at me for a long time and then looked away.

“I thought I could have both if I kept them separate,” he whispered. “I thought it was possible to walk in both worlds and survive. But I’d decided it wasn’t enough. That morning in fact. I was going to tell you. Ask you. I’d already prepared my speech for Jett.”

“What?” I whispered, shaking my head at him. “What are you talking about?”

He looked back at me, and I saw everything; his heartache, his longing, his desperation, his fear.

“I was going to ask you to turn. And I was going to ask Jett to do it.”

Fuck-an-almighty-gobsmacked-duck.

Samson took one look at me and then stood up and left the room.

Now he runs, I thought angrily.

Hunt, the Dark Shadow announced eagerly. Chase.

And Nut help me, I absolutely did.

8

Terror

Lucinda’s house was hardly big enough to give the Dark Shadow a decent hunt. And Samson wasn’t hiding from me. He was giving me space. Perhaps he thought I’d go ballistic and trash the lounge or something. If I’d done that, he would have felt compelled to stop me; this is his mistress’s home after all. So I found him easily; upstairs, having followed that alluring scent of pine needles and musk to his bedroom.

No, he wasn’t running, I thought bitterly. He was luring me to his bed.

Clever, the Dark Shadow said.

Sneaky, I offered.

He is worthy.

I shook my head.

The door was closed as if he was giving me a token chase but hardly enough to deter me. Although, as I stood on the landing, I realised he was giving me something. The option to turn away without showing my face. He would have sensed me standing there as I sensed him standing on the opposite side of the door. But if I walked away, we could both pretend I hadn’t followed him. Hadn’t chased him down as though he were my prey.

Mate.

Shut up.

I almost did it. I almost turned away and escaped to the guest bedroom in the cellar. But I am no coward, despite what the Dark Shadow says, and I still needed to know more about the Taniwha. Mark and his Norms depended on me.

So, I reached out and turned the handle on the door, then gave it a gentle push. It swung open on silent hinges, but I didn’t cross into the room.

Samson was standing in the middle of the space, his large, masculine-decorated bed to one side of him, a dresser with a TV and various articles of inconsequence on top to the other. My attention, though, was all for the vampire who stood staring at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked.

“You weren’t ready,” he whispered back.

“And you think I am now?”

He shook his head. “The amor certamen has required a change in tactics.”

I didn’t want to smile, but I felt my lips twitch just a little.

“Feeling the pressure?” I asked.

“A little,” he said and smiled.

God, he was gorgeous. His hair glowed softly in the room’s light. Not like the fairies’ hair does, this was more natural; could even be called normal or human. But there is nothing normal or human about Samson. The sleek blond strands met his shoulders, unrestrained by tie or product. And those shoulders; they were broad and hard, leading to well-defined pecs and biceps. He was wearing a caramel long sleeved tee which complemented his smooth cream skin. His jaw was slightly stubbled which spoke to a Darker part of me. His eyes, right then, were all chocolate; rich and decadent. If I inhaled, I knew I would be engulfed in his signature scent. Perhaps more, I wasn’t sure if my talent would work right now. This was Samson, and it usually didn’t.

But I was turned on, and that played a part, too, I had to admit.

He watched me and said nothing. This was my choice. Even the Dark Shadow retreated slightly, still there but observing only. This was my choice.

But what a choice it was. If I acted on my impulses and slept with him, it would set things in motion I was nowhere near ready to accept. If I slept with him, it may well seal the deal and the amor certamen would be over.

What would happen to Jett and his fairy induced desire to mate with me then?

I have never enjoyed feeling trapped.

“The Taniwha,” I said as if we weren’t about to have this conversation in his bedroom. “Do they hunt humans?”

Samson stared at me a moment longer. His nostrils flared, and again I wondered what he scented when he did that. Not emotions. I was fairly certain I was the only Hundr around these parts. But he could have scented my thwarted desire.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there were swirls of cinnamon and taupe inside the chocolate. Yeah, he knew I fancied him and had denied us both our desires.

He walked to the chair he kept beside a small desk in the corner and sat down. It was not like Samson to sit while I was standing. The only other surface to sit on was the bed, and I wasn’t going there unless I was unconscious. Or dead. I realised he was still fighting. Still trying to lure me in.

Bless him.

I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked a hip; waiting for him to answer my question. When it was obvious I wasn’t going to sit on the bed that smelled of him, he smiled a self-deprecating smile and then said, “Not usually, no. We do. The ghouls do. Fairies definitely do. But the shapeshifters, especially the Taniwha, are more Light than Dark. Usually. I say usually because the Taniwha became much Darker when Rick took over. Even though he’s dead, his influence has remained.”

He looked up at me and then leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable and in the process stretching the t-shirt he wore over his beautiful chest.

Clever, the Dark Shadow purred.

Sneaky, I said.

“He had a mate,” Samson said.

“Who did? The alpha?”

“Rick,” he said with a nod of his head. “She survived the final confrontation. It is hard for anyone to outlive their mate but for supernaturals, it is damn near impossible.”

“So, she’s strong?”

“Yes. One would have to presume so. I have never met her. If she is in Wellington with the other Taniwha, Gregor would know. Or perhaps Amisi. She would be a good place for you to start.”

Amisi was Wellington’s Nosferatin and a close friend of Lucinda’s. I’d never met her, or the Master of Wellington City. But it seemed like now would be a good time to do so. Unfortunately, Aliath would be back by tomorrow evening and getting to Wellington in daylight hours was outside of my skillset.

Outside of Samson’s too, I thought.

I started to pace.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked after several seconds.

It was hardly a secret, even if Mark wanted to keep it that way. And the one person I really could trust to keep this from the Norms’ press was Samson.

And then I realised I trusted him in this, even if I wasn’t able to trust him with my heart.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. Because I’m perverse that way, I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Soggy wet wool.

I shook my head to clear it and stopped pacing.

“Three members of parliament have been abducted in the last week, here in Auckland. One was the Minister of Police.”

“Malcolm Carrow? That would have got your detective’s knickers in a twist.”

I ignored that and went on. “I scented wet dog at the scene, and the witnesses have no recollection of what happened. When I glazed one tonight, she collapsed after giving me very little to go on other than the word ‘shark.’”

“That would seem rather condemning of the Taniwha.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Samson scratched at his jaw and looked into the distance.

“A hunt,” he said.

Hunt, the Dark Shadow repeated. She was pleased Samson thought along the same lines as her.

“It’s what I’m good at,” I said with a shrug of my shoulder.

He studied me.

“And Álfheimr?” he asked. “Are you going to tell me why you were there?”

“I told you. Paying back a debt.”

“Owing a member of the Fey is dangerous, Georgia. And when danger courts, having allies is a good idea. Who is the fairy?”

I was pretty damn sure he knew. I’m not sure how he knew. But Samson was not without his own means of investigation. Hell, the damn vampire probably had Jett’s office bugged. Which made me work hard not to blush at that thought.

“His name is Aliath,” I said. “Herra of the Hár Lords. Prince of…”

“Dökkálfa.”

Did everyone know of the damn fairy before me?

“I met him only recently,” Samson said as if hearing my grumbling. “He escorted Lucinda back from Faery.” He looked worried. “You can’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust anyone,” I said automatically.

“That’s not true, babe,” he offered with a smirk.

“Least of all you, lover boy.”

He let out a burst of laughter and then slowly sobered.

“It is not good to owe a member of the Fey a debt, but the Herra of the Hár Lords? Georgia,” he said softly, “what did he give you in exchange?”

I shook my head and held up a hand to stop any more questions.

“That’s enough,” I said. “You know more than enough. I’m dealing with it.”

“It must have been very important, perhaps even life-threatening, for you to have given your trust to one so dangerous.”

Damn, he was good.

“Don’t push me on this, Samson,” I snarled. “I won’t tell you a single thing more if you push me on this.”

“Very well. Then we address your missing politicians.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a cellphone and then promptly dialled a number and brought the device to his ear.

“Gregor,” he said when it was answered. I could hear the Master of Wellington City greet him down the line. “I request permission for myself and one other to visit your fair city. Will you grant it?”

“Of course,” the male vampire said. “Any of Lucinda’s line are welcome in my city. When do you plan to arrive?”

“Today.” I blinked at him. How the hell did we get there today?

“Is something amiss?”

Samson looked at me, and I shook my head. Maybe the Master of Wellington City already knew about the missing politicians. Masters of Cities were all knowing like that and Parliament was called back early from its break according to Jett. So, you could assume that Gregor would have looked into the reason why. But I wasn’t going to hand that information over to a Master so easily.

Mark had been right; they would likely use it to better their own situation, and I had to think of the Norms.

“This would be better discussed in person,” Samson said.

“I see,” Gregor replied carefully. “Then we shall have a vehicle waiting at Michel’s hangar for you, and I shall await your arrival.”

The phone went dead. Samson arched his brow.

“I think we stepped on his toes,” he said and dialled another number.

It was never a good thing to piss off the Master of the City you wished to visit. My Dark Shadow agreed as she paced back and forth inside.

Samson’s next call was to the pilots of the private jet he planned for us to use. It couldn’t have been Michel and Lucinda’s jet, because they would have taken that to London with them. But knowing what I knew about my sneaky vampire, Samson would have access to his own private flight service too.

The third call was to a human. A female human. I all but wanted to claw out his eyes when I heard her excited tone when she answered his call.

“My sweet,” he said in a deep voice. “Perhaps we could have that lunch date after all.”

Her excitement was obvious even from where I stood glowering at him.

“You know where I live?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

“A private affair, then,” he said, layering the allure on thick.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Drive safely, Carli,” he said. “I am very much looking forward to seeing you.”

He hung up.

I stood still for a split second longer.

And then the Dark Shadow struck.

Her hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him up off the chair he’d been sitting on. He didn’t fight her. Instead, his own hands wrapped around my arm and started stroking.

“Who is she?” the Dark Shadow asked.

The only sign that Samson recognised that it was my vampire talking was a small widening of his eyes. His own vampire peeked out behind the chocolate, coating the irises taupe and cinnamon.

“Mate,” it said. And it was his vampire, not him. “You do me an honour.”

I battled her for possession of my body. I screamed at her to back down. She swatted me away using my own friggin’ Light.

“Who is she?” she repeated, leaning in close to Samson’s face and running her nose up his cheek as she inhaled. Sweet passionfruit and indulgent chocolate mud cake.

He was seriously turned on.

“Will you challenge her for me?” Samson’s vampire said.

And just like that the Dark Shadow retreated and left me holding onto a decidedly sexed-up vampire.

I made a squeaking sound and released him. But Samson did not release me. He followed my retreat across his bedroom until the backs of my knees hit the bed and I started to fall. He landed on top of me, hard body down the length of mine. My stomach quivered. My eyes almost rolled back into my head as he positioned himself exactly where we both wanted him to be. And then his mouth was on mine.

He kissed me in a way he had never kissed me before. It was almost angry, but I was fairly damn sure he was anything but. It was aggressive and demanding, and hard and unforgiving, and entirely impossible not to react to. I kissed him back.

And then he stopped.

“What the…?” I managed, opening my eyes up to see Samson staring down at me.

And it was Samson and not his vampire.

“You’re back,” he said.

“What the hell?” I said, getting more out this time.

“That was you kissing me not the Dark Shadow,” he said.

“Huh?”

He smiled. “My vampire liked that,” he said and leaned in to scent my skin at the side of my neck.

“Get off me!” I snarled, pushing against his chest.

He let me. Samson is nothing if not a gentleman. Even when his vampire takes over and kisses me into the next century.

“What just happened?” I demanded, getting up off the bed and placing some much-needed distance between us. Samson lay back down on the bed and just smiled.

It was a cat-got-the-cream smile.

I glared at him.

“Your vampire called to mine,” he said. “And they tangled.”

“Your vampire’s a sneaky little shit,” I snapped, and Samson roared with laughter. “He did that on purpose. He set a trap for her.” And me.

“All’s fair in love and war, babe,” Samson said, getting up from the bed just as the doorbell rang. “That will be our driver,” he added.

“Driver? You mean the slapper you invited over for lunch.”

Samson stopped at the threshold to his bedroom and inhaled deeply.

“This room has never smelled so divine,” he murmured. And promptly shut the door behind us as soon as I stepped out, shutting the scents inside. No doubt for him to enjoy later. Pervert.

He looked down at me, then lifted a hand and cupped my cheek. I jerked back. He laughed. But it was different, and I thought perhaps it was his vampire laughing and not the man.

And then Samson said, “This is going to be so much fun.”

I scowled at him and stomped down the stairs, taking my time. The intellectual part of me knew my Dark Shadow had overreacted. That Samson had done it on purpose to get me or her to do just that. But the female part of me was seething. Who the hell was this woman to him?

And then he opened the front door, and the new barmaid at Sensations smiled coyly up at him.

The growl I made was multilayered because my Dark Shadow joined in.

Thank Nut that Samson glazed the girl before she could get the scream out. Because I was pretty sure we’d sounded terrifying. Terrifying and jealous.

It sucked to be me.

9

Surprise

My Dark Shadow was feeling contrite. I wasn’t feeling much better. We sat in the darkened rear interior of Michel’s Land Rover Discovery as the barmaid, Carli, drove us through the busy sunlit streets of Auckland to the airport. Samson hadn’t so much as said boo to her.

He knew when not to push his luck in enclosed environments.

His eyes sparked a lighter colour whenever they looked at me; his vampire-within checking to see if I was still angry. I had no idea what it would do if it thought my temper had cooled. It was a sneaky vampire-within, it could have been anything.

For now, though, Samson and his resident vampire behaved themselves.

The damage had been done anyway.

He knew I still had feelings for him. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spat the dummy quite so spectacularly. I grumbled something hopefully intelligible under my breath.

“What’s that?” Samson asked politely.

“Nothing,” I muttered, and he grinned. “Don’t go getting ahead of yourself, vampire,” I snapped.

“I’m already planning the wedding,” he said dryly.

I rolled my eyes, and he looked at me with a such a look of hunger I almost combusted. Instead, I shifted as surreptitiously as I could and asked, “So, your vampire-within? It takes over sometimes too?”

He studied me for a second and then said, “All vampires-within can assume control of their vampire bodies. Usually when the part that is Light is compromised in some fashion.”

He hadn’t been compromised.

“You let it,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed, not in the slightest guilty about what had happened.

“If I’m to trust you,” I said slowly, “don’t do that again.”

He stilled. Vampire still. And then said, “My kingdom for your trust, Georgia.”

My eyes flicked reluctantly to his.

“But my vampire has chosen you as his mate,” he added. “And as such, he will do anything, anything at all, to have you.”

“What is your vampire-within?” I asked in a whisper. I’d asked this before, and he’d told me I’d have to be his mate to know the answer to that. It’s usually a deeply personal thing; to expose your vampire-within’s form.

I’m different. My vampire-within and I are too separate to be considered one. Most vampires are in tune with their vampire-within. I know Michel’s vampire-within is a dragon, but that’s only because he has an unusual relationship with his vampire-mate; Lucinda. All due to the interference of Nut.

Nut had interfered with my turning, so it stood to reason that my situation was complicated too. Would my vampire-mate have a different relationship with me, too?

“What will you give me for this knowledge?” he asked.

“You won’t give it freely?”

“It is a gift for my mate to know the identity of my vampire-within, but my vampire-within is prepared to bargain with you on this.” He looked away briefly before piercing me with a fierce gaze. “It’s better you know now anyway.”

“Before we mate?” I confirmed.

“Are we to mate, then, love?”

“That’s not what I said,” I hurried to say, and he laughed.

I watched him. How could I not? He was quite something when he smiled and when he laughed, he was truly captivating. I wondered what he had been like as a human. One hundred and fifty years ago he said he had lived. What would he have been like in the nineteenth century? A gentleman I was sure, but what else? Could he claim a girl’s heart so simply like this?

I had so many questions where Samson was concerned because what I thought I’d known had not been the truth.

I looked away.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

“Gigi,” he said, and I looked at him, because not looking when he used that voice was damn near impossible. He held my stare with one that drew me further in and said, “Dog. It’s a dog.”

I started to snigger. “Your vampire-within is a dog?” I asked incredulously. “What, a Yorkshire Terrier? English Bulldog?”

He did not look amused. And the vampire that peeked out behind his eyes was definitely not amused either. My Dark Shadow perked up and peeked back. They stared at each other.

Black Dog, she said after a few seconds. And if I wasn’t mistaken, she sounded a little scared.

But nothing scared my vampire-within.

Not true, she countered. To not be scared would be a mistake. I am not in the habit of making mistakes.

Says the vampire-within who fell for Samson’s doggy tricks.

She clawed me down the arm, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was too busy watching the ‘black dog’ watch her.

That’s not just a reference to its colouring, is it? I asked. That’s a title.

Yes, she said. Old dog. Demon dog.

Fuck. No wonder Samson had been so full of Dark before he’d found Lucinda’s Light.

There are stories, she said.

I’m guessing not nice stories?

Some. Some are more benevolent than others.

But not all of them.

No.

I’d always known there was more to Samson than what you could see. And most of the time, you couldn’t see his vampire-within at all. He was too controlled for that. But his vampire-within allowed me to see it. Or maybe it allowed my Dark Shadow to.

“What do you expect me to do with this knowledge?” I asked him. Or his black dog, I’m not entirely sure which.

“Choose wisely,” he said.

Not guard it. Not give him something in return. No. He wanted me to know exactly what I would be getting into if I chose to mate with him.

I wondered then what Jett’s vampire-within would be. Could it be worse than the Black Dog?

Yes, I thought. Yes, it could. Jett scared me. Samson did too, but for entirely different reasons. Samson scared me because he could break my heart. Again.

“Thank you,” I said, this time it was to the Black Dog.

“Mate,” the Black Dog said back.

In your dreams, I thought and then tried not to smile. I was pretty sure Samson would be happy to dream about me. It was hardly a decent threat.

The Land Rover pulled into Michel’s hangar at the airport then. A gleaming private jet awaited us, the pilots already in the cockpit. Sun beat down just outside of the hangar, but we could exit the car and make it to the plane without getting burned.

Samson took the time to glaze Carli further; perhaps even use his reality-altering talent to really send the message home. I knew Samson. If he truly cared for someone, he wouldn’t have done any of that. The girl was a tool and nothing more.

My Dark Shadow curled up into a little ball and pretended not to feel guilty about the way she’d acted.

I soothed her with the knowledge that I had momentarily been fooled by the ruse as well.

Samson followed me into the cabin and shut the door behind him. He was familiar with the controls, and the pilots clearly trusted him. He spoke briefly to them, and then the plane pulled out of the hangar and onto the tarmac. The shutters were closed on the aircraft already, so there was nothing to do but sit down, buckle up and wait for liftoff. We received permission from Air Traffic Control faster than I would have thought possible.

“It’s good to be vampyre,” I said.

“Yes,” Samson offered and smiled.

I wasn’t sure what to do with this detente we had, so I ignored it for now. I read for a bit. Watched a repeat of Friends on the entertainment system and then took my leave and went to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror and wondered what it was that Samson saw when he looked at me. I saw a pale face; attractive, but nothing to write home about. Too blonde hair and too red eyes. I wasn’t hungry as such, but with the Dark Shadow so close to the surface, I was more vampire than vampire hunter right now.

Which reminded me about my one remaining stake. I pulled my jacket back and peeked inside the pocket where the silver stake rested. It was part of a pair; a gift from Lucinda. Its partner had gone missing when I’d staked my Sire. Egyptian made, lethal, sharp, and covered in a beautiful design and words I did not understand. I wasn’t sure the words meant anything, other than Handle With Care, but the design was beautiful.

I sucked in a breath of air and reached into my pocket, hissing out the breath again when the silver stung like a motherfucker. I pulled my hand out and shook it. Blisters had already formed on the tips of my fingers.

“Well, that sucks,” I said.

Yes, the Dark Shadow agreed.

We both stared at my fingertips as the blisters healed thanks to all that glorious blood.

What does it mean? I asked.

The Bitch Queen has robbed us.

She needs to die.

All fairies should.

I liked the way my vampire-within thought.

Pushing the silver stake issue aside, I washed my face, checked my hair and then returned to the main cabin. Samson glanced up from his tablet computer and inhaled sharply.

He was beside me in an instant.

“You’re hurt.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Where?”

“I’m not.”

“Show me.”

“Back off!”

He snarled, fangs flashing. I hissed back, eyes bleeding to red. The pilot suddenly announced over the intercom that we were about to make our descent into Wellington City. Both of us backed down, but not without our vampires-within snarling at each other.

“Your courtship techniques suck,” I said, sitting as far away from him as I could manage.

“On the contrary,” Samson replied smoothly. “Your Dark Shadow is in love.”

Oh, he did not…

He winked at me. I rolled my eyes. Jerk.

The air in the cabin changed as the plane began its final approach. I wanted to look out the window; a spillover from my human days. I’d never been to Wellington before. I wanted to see what it looked like from the sky. Try to spot landmarks I’d only ever read about or seen on TV. Mount Victoria. The cable car. The Beehive.

I did none of those things because the sun would do more than blind me. Sunlight affected me as it did any other vampire. I was nothing special where that was concerned. But silver? Having to be invited into someone’s home? Those I’d been exempt from because those could help me hunt rogue vampires.

I hadn’t realised until that moment how much I clung to the Light side of me. The Nosferatin side of me. Without it, I felt a little lost. And it was only getting Darker.

My Dark Shadow tried to soothe me with a little of my Light. But it only reinforced how she had control of it now, and I didn’t. Why that? Why did Sofiq choose that? She’d said something about it being easier to control me this way. Had she given Aliath even more control over my future somehow?

I’d thought it was because I was imbalanced. More Dark than Light. But I couldn’t deny that without my Light I was weakened. And being weak was something I did not like.

Hunt shapeshifters, the Dark Shadow said, getting me back on task. Save Norms. Kill Queen.

Sometimes the Dark Shadow was more beast than sentient being.

Heard that, she said and I smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Samson asked. I’d almost forgotten he was there. Almost.

“Something my Dark Shadow said.”

“You’re getting on better with her now,” he observed.

I arched my brow. Maybe he was right. But I still wanted my Light back.

“She’s part of me,” I offered as explanation.

“But not all of you,” he said, just as the plane’s wheels touched down on tarmac.

And no, the Dark Shadow was not all of me. If she had been, I would have been mated to Samson or Jett by now. And I think Samson knew it. It wasn’t my vampire-within who was unsure. To her, things were really quite simple. We needed a mate to compensate for our weaknesses, and both of these two vampires were worthy.

And now we were weaker than we had been before. Would she simply lose patience with me and one day take the decision out of my hands?

She said nothing, which said more than if she had talked.

The plane taxied into Michel’s hangar in Wellington; I hadn’t even known he’d had one. But at one stage, Michel had been the only Master vampire of a City in New Zealand, so it stood to reason he had a widespread network. Now he was no longer a Master of any City; Jett had taken on Auckland and Gregor had claimed Wellington some time ago. No, Michel was a member of the Iunctio Council; a far more dangerous thing. At least he was on my side. If you could call being persuaded by Lucinda not to kill me as being on my side.

I knew of one other council member, though, who would gladly see me meet the final death, even if he miraculously let me go when faced with a silver-haired fairy.

We waited for the plane to cut its engines and then Samson got up and opened the door, calling out a thank you to the pilots. They’d wait for us. Gas up the plane and take a break and be ready for when Samson wanted to get back to Auckland.

Of course, by tonight, I’d be leaving Wellington another way. Fucking fairy.

Which meant I had to get what I needed from Gregor and his Nosferatin and trust Samson to get that information back to Mark.

Time was definitely marching.

A car was waiting for us. Long, sleek, dark-windowed and black. I was guessing the Master of Wellington City had a flair for the dramatic. I slipped in with Samson following behind, and then the driver took off. I couldn’t see him behind the raised, smokey glass that separated the driver’s area from us, but I guessed he was trustworthy because Samson didn’t seem fussed.

“Gregor has a nightclub on Lambton Quay,” Samson suddenly said, again as if he could read my thoughts and knew who I’d been thinking about, “right in the CBD.” Of course, he did. Vampires liked the nightlife, and they especially liked the nightlife in and around the VC. Or Vampire Central area. “It’s called Desire de Sang.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

Samson grimaced. “He’s French. They tend to be overly cliché about things.”

I smirked.

“He’ll no doubt see us there,” Samson went on. “Assume everyone you meet is a danger to you, even if they are Norms. Gregor is not to be taken lightly.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I hope so,” he said quietly just as the car pulled to a stop beside a door in a back alley.

“No cover?” I asked, peering out of the tinted windows and taking in the sunlit sky directly above the limousine.

“A test,” Samson said, and he didn’t look pleased.

“He sounds like quite the charmer,” I offered, gripping the door handle and opening the door before I could chicken out.

Not that the Dark Shadow would have let me. The sun might have hurt her too, but she’d be damned if she let this testy Master Vampyre see that. She might be damned anyway, but she still had her pride.

My skin blistered immediately, and then I was in the shadow of the stoop. Samson flashed to my side, studying the whorls of smoke drifting off my cheeks. He frowned but didn’t have time to pass comment, as the door opened and a black maw greeted us. Dark and forbidding. Gregor, the Master of Wellington City, certainly liked to ‘test’ visiting vampires.

I strode down the hallway, Samson at my side, my Dark Shadow awake and wary.

Good prey, she said.

Master Vampyre, I shot back.

Just because he is a Master does not mean he isn’t our prey.

She was crazier than I thought.

We came out into an empty clubroom floor. Reds and blacks and too much vinyl. I almost burst out laughing. Kitschy vampire didn’t even cover it. But at least there was light.

There was also one single occupant in the room. Male. Vampire. Sanguis Vitam oozing off him as though he had oodles of the stuff to spare.

He did. Because I recognised him.

“You,” I whispered.

And in the next breath, my neck was in his clenched hand.

10

Threatened

Gregor, the Master of Wellington City, was the Enforcer for the Iunctio. How was that even remotely fair?

“You walk into my home without any care, creature,” Gregor snarled.

“Gregor!” Samson shouted. “This is…”

Sanguis Vitam slammed into Samson and threw him across the clubroom floor, making him land hard against a booth seat. The wood frame cracked under his weight, but Samson’s body kept going. Through the table that was bolted to the floor and partially into the wall behind it.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Gregor growled.

My Dark Shadow rose within me; I didn’t fight her. In this, she would be harder to kill, and I was just as furious as she was. Nobody hurt Samson and got away with it. Nobody.

Her Sanguis Vitam lashed out and tangled with the Enforcer’s. But although I may now be closer to a level two Master vampire, the Enforcer was not only a level one Master but the Master a City. He drew on the power of the vampires within Wellington’s city limits and swatted her Sanguis Vitam into the next century.

It hurt. Inside I made a pitiful sound full of pain, but the Dark Shadow held firm and glared at Gregor with all her self-righteous red-eyed fury.

“You will release me, Vampyre,” she said.

“I let you go once. That was a mistake.” He tilted his head to the side and studied me. “Where is your fairy protector now?”

“Behind you,” she said in what had to be the most impressive bluff ever delivered by a vampire.

Gregor didn’t move an inch, but he sent some of his Sanguis Vitam out behind him to check for threats, and it was enough for the Dark Shadow to hammer home her anger at being contained.

I twisted out of his hold and rolled away from his next strike. The air buzzed with power; both his and mine. He came at me, eyes completely platinum in colour. I’d never seen a vampire with such unusual eyes. The platinum made them seem angelic, especially with the iridescent Sigillum that surrounded them, but the snarl on his lips looked anything but celestial. Team that with the scar down the right side of his face and he looked positively demonic.

I danced out of the way, using as much speed as I could claim being a vampire. But he wasn’t lacking in that ability either. He slammed into me, making us roll to the floor. Fists punched, claws raked, Sanguis Vitam flew all around us; popping bulbs and fracturing furniture.

It had little effect on him, and I was starting to feel lethargic.

I couldn’t battle the Enforcer. He was too old. Too powerful. Too frightening. So, I did the next best thing and attacked his nightclub.

The bottles behind the bar, sitting on row upon row of glass shelving, shattered into a million tiny pieces. The scent of alcohol wafted on the air, and then I went for the mirror backing. Cracks sounded out, followed by the tinkling of glass falling. In one hit, I’d cost him tens of thousands of dollars.

He slammed my head into the wooden floor, breaking the floorboards in half.

Light, I managed to whisper inside my head to the Dark Shadow.

No, she said and ramped up her Sanguis Vitam, this time going for the chandelier hanging above us.

I was on my back, looking up at the Enforcer. His hands were wrapped around my throat and squeezing ever tighter. My vision was blurring, but I could still see the massive chandelier sway. I didn’t much care for her plan, but then she sent me an image of one of my stakes.

She knew as well as I that the silver would burn. But what’s a burn compared to losing our head? And the only way I’d get stake to chest on this vampire was if he was distracted by something big enough to cause some damage.

I slipped my hand inside my jacket. Platinum stared down at me out of emotionless eyes. He’d take my head and not feel an ounce of guilt for it. He deserved to die.

I wrapped my hand around the stake, feeling my skin blister. The smell of burning flesh hit the air, just as the chandelier fell.

The Enforcer scented the charred flesh and squeezed harder. He didn’t have enough time to finish what he had started.

The chandelier hit him; hit me. My stake entered his chest as he threw himself sideways.

I was left tangled up in industrial strength wiring and the tempered steel struts of what had to be a half tonne of lighting.

The Enforcer lay on his back a few feet away staring down his chest at the stake that protruded out of it.

“What the fuck?” he said.

He reached for it; it couldn’t have made it into his heart, or he wouldn’t have been so cavalier about touching it. He would have known exactly what pulling a stake out of his own heart could have done. It required a steady hand and a level one Sanguis Vitam Master. He had one, but from where I was sitting, he definitely did not have the other.

So, I’d missed. And it would likely be the only chance I ever got. Failure was not a welcome emotion; I was just grateful that in my current state I couldn’t scent the bastard.

He hissed when his fingers wrapped around the stake, but he pulled it out slowly, taking his time, being sure not to let it touch the chamber of his heart. He lay the offending article down on the floor beside him and then let out a slow breath of air as if getting himself back on level ground.

His eyes swept across the clubroom to me and he began to rise.

I couldn’t move; I was effectively trapped under the chandelier which was ironic. My Dark Shadow had made it fall. She wasn’t sorry; as she’d seen it, it had been our only chance to distract him enough to stake his heart.

But I’d missed. Fuck my life.

He prowled toward me, taking his time, dragging this out, like the sick, sadistic prick that he was. The stake lay on the floor behind him, glinting in what remained of the lighting in the room. Taunting me with my failure.

“It has been a while since anyone has managed to get so close to the heart of me,” he said.

“Not close enough,” I muttered.

“No,” he agreed. “This ends now.”

I wondered if Samson was OK. I wondered if he would wake up to a pile of dust where I had been lying. I wondered if he’d survive that. We weren’t mates. So, in theory, he should have been OK. But I couldn’t deny that there was something that bound Samson and me together. And if it wasn’t love then what was it?

The Dark Shadow growled.

Now we use your Light, she said, and I felt whatever it was that held it contained, within her grasp and not mine, give. And Light flooded me and the room, eating up all the shadows.

It took a second or two, and maybe the Enforcer letting out a frustrated growl helped me, but I realised the Light in the room wasn’t actually mine.

“I told you I’d be home shortly,” the Enforcer said. “Are you checking up on me, ma ange?”

A young woman walked in from the rear of the clubroom; dark-skinned, exotic looking eyes, long black hair. She shone with Light. Brighter than the room she’d just bathed in it. Gregor’s Nosferatin, I guessed.

She stopped beside my stake and looked down at it, a soft frown marring her otherwise beautiful features. She crouched in a move that was sinuous; like water flowing. And picked the stake up. Twirling it in her hand, she tested its weight, then brought it closer to her eyes for a detailed inspection.

“I know this work,” she said. “My kin made this.”

Egyptian. That’s why she looked so exotic.

Her eyes came up and studied me where I lay. She didn’t seem perturbed by the fact that I was currently tangled up in a prison of my own making. She cocked her head and frowned. I couldn’t look away. I was aware the Enforcer had stopped advancing on me the moment the Nosferatin had entered the room. As if he she held sway over the ancient and powerful vampire. A Nosferatu such as he would have known exactly what she could and couldn’t do. He clearly knew her well; he had a pet name for her. Maybe they were lovers. Maybe she was his mate. But I hadn’t thought anyone could have halted the Enforcer in his tracks once he’d committed to something.

And he sure as hell had committed to ridding the world of me.

A sound came from the back of the nightclub then, drawing all of our attention. Wood creaked, plaster crumbled and fell to the floor. A broken table went flying. Then out of the depths of smashed drywall and shattered furnishings, Samson strode across the clubroom floor.

He looked like an avenging angel. All stark and full of righteous anger.

“Is this how the Master of Wellington City greets one of the Lux Lucis Triubuo’s vampires?” he demanded.

“Hello, Samson,” Amisi said pleasantly.

“Amisi,” Samson offered just as kindly. His eyes returned to Gregor, flashing cinnamon and taupe.

“Remember your place, Beauregard,” Gregor said calmly. But there was a depth of horror to that calm.

“My place?” Samson growled, ignoring the implied threat. “Would that be my place as the Lux Lucis Tribuo’s representative in New Zealand, Morel?”

Gregor growled back but said nothing.

“I do not believe she would be happy with this outcome.”

Samson was talking of Lucinda, of course. Lucinda was his mistress. He was part of her Lux Lucis Tribuo line, along with Sergei and Nataliya. Lucinda had three prophesied roles. The last of which meant Giver of Light. She was the most powerful Nosferatin in the world and as such, clearly carried a shit tonne of weight in vampire circles.

The Enforcer had gone preternaturally still.

“Yes,” Amisi said, tapping my stake against her thigh as she studied the Master vampire before her. “I must agree with Samson, Gregor, this is not going to make Lucinda happy. And an unhappy Lucinda…”

She left the sentence hanging.

Gregor pointed at me and snarled, “She is Nothus.”

“Is she?” Amisi asked. “I see only a vampire.”

Hello? Lying here in a heap with Light thrumming inside.

And then I realised, my Dark Shadow had at some point pulled my Light back to her. Locked it down. That’s if I’d really had any of it in the first place. Because I was thinking, Amisi’s Light might have masked my Light, and the Dark Shadow had read the situation clearly.

That’s why she’d only fought the Enforcer with her Sanguis Vitam. That’s why when I’d asked for my Light, she’d said an emphatic no. She’d only agreed at the end because we were royally screwed by then. Trapped beneath a chandelier with an angry Iunctio councilman bearing down on us. But as soon as the other Nosferatin had appeared inside the club, my Dark Shadow had tamped down on our Light, snuffing it out like you would a candle.

Clever Dark Shadow, I whispered inside my mind.

She purred back at me, quite chuffed.

“What do you mean?” the Enforcer asked.

“I see the Dark,” Amisi said. “I see very little Light. And all I sense is Vampyre.” She spared him a look of amusement. “You are mistaken, my love.”

Gregor snorted. It was such a shock to hear the benign amusement that I sucked in a breath of surprised air. And on it, I tasted sticky toffee and sweet passionfruit and freshly baked bread, woodsmoke and newly cut grass. Amusement, desire and love.

If they weren’t mates, I would be very surprised.

“You owe Georgia an apology,” Samson said, recovering faster than the rest of us. He knew exactly what I was. Or most of it. He knew, at least, that I was Nothus. Half vampire and half vampire-hunter. But he was running with Amisi’s assessment - an assessment that was surprisingly incorrect - and I could hardly blame him. I could tell what Amisi was; she should have been able to tell what I was. But without my Light in my control, I no longer appeared Nosferatin.

“Get this thing off me!” I growled, because…Vampyre.

Samson flashed to my side and started to lift the chandelier. Gregor reluctantly moved to help him. Samson’s growl put paid to that. He did not want the Master vampire anywhere near close enough to do me any more harm.

Gregor gave him a sharp look, but it wasn’t one of anger. It was more now of surprise. He looked at me and then looked back at Samson and then looked back at me.

“Really?” he said, sounding bemused. “This one?”

The chandelier landed in a thunderous crash across the dance floor, and Samson crouched down at my side, ready to help me up if I needed it. I couldn’t show that sort of weakness, so I asked the Dark Shadow for help and sprang to my feet, fangs flashing, Sanguis Vitam thrumming inside.

“That apology?” I asked.

The Enforcer studied me but said nothing. I hadn’t expected an apology, but he would have expected a vampire to ask.

“This is a nice surprise, Samson,” Amisi said as if we hadn’t just had a deadly standoff and Gregor’s club wasn’t in tatters all around us. “What brings you to our fair city?”

“We came seeking answers,” Samson told the Nosferatin. “And instead have more questions.”

Don’t push it, I thought. If we complained too much, Gregor would become suspicious. More suspicious than he already was.

He hadn’t stopped studying me.

When we’d last met, I was half Dark-half Light. He would have known it. He hadn’t made a mistake. He knew that somehow I was hiding what I was. But maybe because his mate was there, he was holding back. I didn’t think he’d be so circumspect if I met him alone down a dark alley.

I chose to steer clear of those for a while.

“What answers were you after?” Amisi asked, ignoring Samson’s reminder of what had just happened.

She walked over to an intact booth and slipped into a seat on one side. Gregor raised his hand and out of the back, from down an unlit hallway, flew four glasses and a bottle of whisky. Untouched by my attempts to cause the vampire’s business serious harm.

He approached the seating area and started to pour four glasses of the scotch, handing the first to Amisi with a soft smile, and shoving the rest toward the other side of the booth, where we were expected to sit down.

Samson looked at me, a question in his eyes. Did I want to continue with this or cut our losses and run?

I ran from no-one.

Damn straight, the Dark Shadow said, stealing my line.

I walked across the debris-strewn floor and waited for Samson to sit on the bench seat first. I was not going to be stuck in a corner with no way to fight. The Enforcer smirked into his drink. Samson swallowed down his own need to be able to move freely and slid across the seat to sit opposite Amisi. The Nosferatin had no such issues sitting in the corner. She was serenely wrapped in her Light.

“Your questions?” Gregor prompted.

I wasn’t sure how much Jett trusted this vampire. And he was a member of the Iunctio. If they weren’t already aware of the abductions of the MPs, then by telling him now, they surely would be. And then they would send someone to investigate further. Of course, the Enforcer was already here, no doubt the Champion, the vampire in charge of the Iunctio, would just use him to investigate. Or ‘enforce.’

But as the Master of Wellington City, I also found it hard to believe he didn’t already know what was happening to members of our parliament. So, although confiding in an Iunctio councilman went against every fibre of my being, he could very well end up a valuable tool in my investigative abilities.

If we could continue to hide our Light.

For the first time since Álfheimr, I was thankful to Queen Sofiq.

“Three members of parliament have been abducted from their electorates in Auckland City,” I said.

Gregor said nothing.

“Evidence points to supernatural involvement.”

Still nothing.

“We believe it was Taniwha.”

“I see,” he said. “And what makes you think the Taniwha have returned to Michel Durand’s city?”

It was strange how he called Auckland Michel’s and not Jett’s. But then, the Taniwha had been evicted when Michel had been Master of that City. So, maybe it was because of that.

But I was pretty sure it wasn’t. Jett might have been the Master of Auckland City now, but Auckland would always be Michel’s. Michel’s and Lucinda’s that is.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Their moving to London seemed like abandonment to me. But knowing that Auckland would always be their home gave me a sense of hope which made for an uncomfortable feeling.

For now, though, I had more immediate concerns. Like how I explained I had scented Taniwha at the scenes.

“Georgia is Auckland’s supernatural liaison to the Police,” Samson said. “She hears things.”

“Just hears?” Gregor asked.

“I have talents,” I said. Admitting that much was not a hardship. Every vampire had talents to some degree, and both Gregor and Amisi would have been able to tell I was a level three/level two master. It would be expected that I had talents.

“What talents?”

No way was I going there.

“Talents that make me believe the Taniwha have returned to Auckland,” I said levelly. “Lost anyone lately?”

Sanguis Vitam swept out and wrapped around me, but it was not a lover’s embrace. It was sharp and hard and stung relentlessly.

“Careful, vampire.”

Well, at least I was only a vampire to him at long last.

“Three MPs,” I said, valiantly ignoring his blood life force. “They’re after something. I can’t find the connection. So, I need to find the Taniwha instead.”

The Sanguis Vitam retreated.

“You make a valid point,” the Master of Wellington City said. Then he took a leisurely sip of his drink. “You are welcome in my city,” he finally added, and I could feel Samson relax at my side.

Not yet, the Dark Shadow murmured in warning.

I was with her on that one.

Because in the next moment, his Sanguis Vitam was back and with it, words whispered in my ear for only me to hear.

“I know what you are,” he said. “And I will discover how you have hidden your secrets. Mark my words, Nothus. I own you. Your death is mine for the reaping.”

It sucked to be me.

11

Hunger

We couldn’t visit the Taniwha during daylight hours, which meant we had to wait for night to fall. Night would also mean Aliath’s return. He’d promised me one day before he’d whisk me back to Álfheimr. I wasn’t sure how literal the fairy would be. Would he time his return to the second, or would he simply turn up sometime during vampire hours?

It didn’t matter; I had to come clean.

Gregor offered us sanctuary in one of the chambers beneath Desire de Sang. I could sense vampires nearby, but without my Light to guide me, I had no way of knowing how Dark they were. If there was a pull in this city, I thought perhaps I wouldn’t feel it. Which was a good thing; Amisi could hunt any rogues without me trying to beat her to it, so she wouldn’t figure out what I was.

It didn’t bear thinking about Auckland suffering without a Nosferatin to guard it.

I paced the small but well appointed quarters we’d been given. I needed to sleep. But sleep eluded me. I had to warn Samson that he’d be flying solo on this mission shortly. Samson and Mark did not get on; it was to threaten Samson in particular that Mark had silver bullets made. But if the detective wanted the intelligence I was gathering, he’d have to let Samson help him.

And I’d have to ask Samson to help me.

I turned around and paced back the way I had just come.

“Something is bothering you,” Samson commented from the armchair he had taken.

I clenched my fists and tried to think.

“Gregor will honour his welcome,” he said. “Unless we break his rules.”

“I don’t plan on breaking any rules,” I said.

“Then what has upset you?”

I stopped pacing and decided to woman up. Vampire up. Whatever.

“Aliath will return for me this evening.”

Samson went preternaturally still. His vampire peeked out behind taupe and cinnamon eyes. I thought perhaps it had started pacing.

“Your debt to him has not been paid?” he carefully asked.

“Three hunts,” I said. “I’ve completed one, which he’s trying to lengthen into more, but I’m fairly sure I can hold him to the letter of our agreement. But he still has two more hunts owing him, and he’s currently got a hard-on for Light Fey spies in Queen Sofiq’s court.”

Samson blinked at me.

“Why is it that you know so much more about the damn fairies than a newborn vampire should,” he growled.

Way to make me feel special, Samson. Newborn indeed.

I sank down onto the bed and tugged on my ponytail.

“Not by choice.”

“How did you meet?”

“Stu’s case.” Stu was my BFF’s cousin and an old friend, who’d been framed for murder. I couldn’t think about that right now. I got Stu off the charges and staked the perpetrator. Who happened to be my Rogue Sire. Enough said. “At one stage fairies were suspected,” I clarified.

“Their involvement in the vodka mixer is a given,” Samson replied.

He was right. A fairy, or fairies, had aided my Sire in doctoring SubZero’s Vive La Vodka drink to make the Norms become addicted to it. But that was a problem for another day. I had a more immediate fairy issue to contend with.

“I need you to take what we learn about the Taniwha to Detective Anderson,” I said.

“Are you asking for my help, Gigi?”

“You’re already helping, aren’t you?”

“A further favour then.”

I ground my teeth together.

“Will you or won’t you tell Mark about what we learn here in Wellington?”

Samson offered an enigmatic smile and nodded his head.

“I will.”

I let a breath of air out that I didn’t need to do and said, “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Mate.”

I growled at him. He laughed.

Then sobered, “Are you armed to fight a fairy?”

I touched my empty jacket pocket automatically. Amisi had taken my last remaining stake; I was down to just a silver knife slipped into my boot.

“Does silver hurt them?”

“No. But sharp things might.”

I smiled, flashing teeth. “Then I’m armed.”

He didn’t smile back at me.

“Quit it, Samson,” I snapped. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” he said surprising me. Then he stood from his chair and looked at the bathroom. “Do you mind if I shower first?”

I swallowed. “Sure. Why not? Go for it.” Shut up now!

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. And then he was gone, and the bathroom door closed behind him. A few seconds later the shower turned on and running water covered any other noises he might have made.

I sat back on the bed and stared at nothing. If Aliath turned up now, I probably wouldn’t get to say goodbye to Samson. For some reason that was more important than ever now.

I didn’t want Samson to worm his way back into my affections. I hadn’t fully eradicated him in the first place. But now he was back. Firmly on the side of friend not foe, and halfway to desirable lover.

I knew exactly how good he looked naked under a hot shower spray.

I groaned, and someone knocked on the door.

If it was the fairy, he was being uncharacteristically considerate.

I snorted and walked to the door, opening it up and peering down at two young women.

They bowed, hand fisted over chest, and said in unison - a decidedly creepy thing to bear witness to - “The Master of the City sends his good wishes.”

I stared at them. They stared back at me. Then slowly one of them tilted her head to the side, displaying her neck and the vein beneath her creamy skin.

Oh, dinner.

“Right,” I said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

They walked into the chamber and looked around. Not at the decor; no, they were looking for Samson.

“My companion is in the bathroom,” I said. “He’ll be out shortly, and I’m sure he’ll, you know, want a bite.”

They blinked at me.

OK. I walked over to the armchair Samson had vacated and sat down.

“Which of us would you prefer, Mistress?” the blonde on the right asked.

I waved a hand and said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Perhaps your companion would have a preference?”

I grimaced. He better not pick the blonde, I thought stupidly.

“You,” I said, pointing at the blonde myself.

She walked toward me and had just started to sit on my lap when Samson emerged from the bathroom, hair damp, towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water glistening on his broad chest, drawing every single eye.

He knew damn well we had visitors. He was a damn vampire; he could hear a pin drop at fifty metres.

I glared at him, and he said, smiling, “Ah, dinner. Perfect timing.”

He walked toward the bed, and I had a moment’s regret that I’d chosen the only armchair. Now he’d have to feed off the brunette on the soft surface of the mattress. He didn’t recline and make it more than it was, but he was still wrapped in only a towel, and any energetic movements would have revealed way more than he should have felt happy about.

It certainly revealed way more than I or my Dark Shadow were happy about.

He sat and patted the side of the bed. The blonde had sat herself down on my lap already, but I hadn’t made a move to drink from a vein yet. She sat perfectly still, no doubt aware that there was more going on here than a simple feeding. They were both well versed in vampire behaviour by the studious blank looks on their faces.

The brunette approached Samson without making eye contact. Yes, they’d both picked up on the tension in the room and weren’t going to fan the flames any higher. I relaxed slightly and reached out for the blonde’s wrist.

“Neck,” Samson said, his voice lower than usual.

“The wrist is fine,” I said, sounding stilted.

“You need to be well fed for your visitor tonight.” Aliath. He wanted me as prepared as I could be for the fairy’s return and my journey back to Álfheimr. I could get what I needed from the woman’s wrist, but the vein in the neck was close to the heart and therefore more sustaining to a vampire.

I nodded my head stiffly and pulled the woman’s hair over her shoulder to display the long line of her neck. My fangs were already down.

Samson, who did not need to ensure he was well prepared for a trip to Álfheimr and could have managed with a drink from the brunette’s wrist, also prepared the woman’s neck to his liking.

We sat opposite each other, the bed facing the armchair, so when I let my fangs enter the blonde’s neck, Samson was watching. And that meant I was watching when he did the same to the brunette.

Until recently, I’ve been very circumspect about feeding off Norms. I’ve fed when I’ve needed to, which thankfully can be as little as once a week if I push my luck. But with my Light gone, feeding daily looked like a new norm.

But I have also never fed willingly in front of another vampire. Group feedings are not something I’ve participated in before. But this was Samson, and although we’d been to hell and were partway back, if there was any vampire I had to do this in front of, it would be him.

And then the taste of the girl’s blood hit my tongue, and his eyes flashed pure cinnamon.

Hello, vampire.

Mine were no doubt a garish red. But the look in Samson’s eyes right then told me he saw something different.

I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Or maybe my Dark Shadow did.

Because it was a mistake. A huge mistake.

Samson was turned on.

And instantly I was too.

Feeding is intimate to a vampire. It can be used as punishment or as reward. It is never simply food. We can make it painful, or we can make it sensual. Or we can glaze the donor to believe absolutely anything at all. We hadn’t needed to make these woman believe something other than what was happening; they were from Gregor’s stock; they understood exactly what they were doing and did it willingly.

So, when Samson looked at me with that hunger and sexual heat in his eyes and my body responded, we both unfortunately made our donors feel the same desire and attraction too.

Thank all that is good and holy in the world that we only needed to feed for thirty seconds. But they were the longest thirty seconds I’d ever experienced in my life. Longer even than when I was attacked by Xavier; my Sire.

I felt hot and achy all over. My nostrils flared with the need to scent Samson’s signature. The part of me that is Hundr needed to scent every single emotion he was feeling. And the fact that I could when I usually couldn’t didn’t even seem a problem right then. I was vampyre, and he was my mate.

I silently sent a warning to the Dark Shadow to back up the truck a little and give me some space.

She happily pointed out that it was me and not her feeding me the fantasies running riot inside my head.

And then it was over and we’d both fed enough; any more and we could have compromised Gregor’s donors and doing that when the Enforcer wanted my head was not wise. Even the Dark Shadow had withdrawn as soon as we’d fed enough; usually, she fights me for more. But not today. Not now when we had danger on our doorstep and Samson sitting on a bed, fed, flushed and turned on.

I stood, pulling the blonde up with me, helping her to steady herself. I said something that might have been a thank you but could equally have been a get out. And then Samson was standing, the brunette swaying in his light grip. He pushed her toward the blonde, who reached out and wrapped her arms around her companion in a move that was decidedly not platonic, and they both stumbled toward the door.

I didn’t watch them leave. I was too busy watching Samson.

Move, I told myself. Retreat! I shouted inside my head. I needed to get out of here, right now.

I took a step toward the door of the room and then thought better of it and turned toward the bathroom. Samson watched me, breathing too quickly; something that should have set off alarm bells.

And then I was through the ensuite bathroom’s door and closing it behind me and thinking that had been easier than I had thought.

I didn’t need this complication. I didn’t need to let him back in so far that he could hurt me all over again. I didn’t need someone else to care about; I already had too many. I was a loner. Marcus had called me that. Lucinda’s guard hitting the nail on the head on that one. I was better off alone.

Strangely, my Dark Shadow had remained very quiet. Perhaps she didn’t want to influence me on this. I’d like to think she respected me to some degree, but I also knew that if she thought it absolutely necessary to mate, she’d make me do it. A vampire’s number one motto: Survive at all costs. And the Dark Shadow as all vampire. Even with access to my Light.

I turned the shower on and undressed quickly. I wasn’t sure I could get to sleep feeling so buzzed, but I needed some shuteye before Aliath came back. And I was determined to be prepared for the fucking fairy.

I stepped under the hot spray, felt my body begin to relax. Then thought to hell with it and swept my hand down over my boob and stomach, seeking some form of relief from what had just happened.

It was all his fault anyway. He’d come out dressed in only a towel, water glistening on hard pecs. He’d looked at me as though it was my neck he’d been feeding from and not some strangers. He’d filled the room with indulgent chocolate mud cake, for fuck’s sake.

And OK, that last one might be a bit of a lie; I’d filled the room with a fair amount of it myself.

My fingers found their goal, and I closed my eyes, tipping my head back and seeking an escape the only way I would allow myself.

And then those hard pecs I’d just been fantasying about rubbed up against my back, and a large hand wrapped around my body, landing on top of my own and rubbing exactly where I did not want him to be.

I squeaked. Then started to turn around and lay into him. But Samson’s fangs came down and secured themselves to my shoulder, holding me still as he continued to touch me. My fingers had withdrawn from between my legs, but Samson was more than up to the task of taking over.

“Samson,” I said, half growl-half moan.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked around the hold he had on my shoulder.

Yes, I thought.

No, I corrected, trying unsuccessfully to blame that denial on the Dark Shadow.

“Just a moment,” Samson whispered against my skin. “Just one moment that does not need to be more. Just this. Now. Post-feeding when the blood is pumping, and your skin is hot, and nothing soothes the ache but this.”

“Samson,” I said again, but my hips were rocking, my legs had spread, allowing him better access, and my head had fallen back on his shoulder.

His free hand came around and cupped a breast, his thumb and forefinger playing with the nipple. His other hand, that beautiful appendage, delved in deeper, fingers stroking and rubbing and pumping in.

I could feel his erection pressing up over my rear. I could feel his hot breath on my wet shoulder, his tongue as he lapped at the little amount of blood that was there. His fangs were still holding me prisoner, but they weren’t what held me in his embrace. I could have broken free, but I didn’t. I sought his touch. I chased the ache with relief. Relief that he could give me. I writhed against him as water fell down on our bodies, making us slick and hot and desperate. He rocked into me as I rocked back, my hands up in his hair, gripping tightly.

He squeezed my breast, growled against my shoulder, and sought my release with undivided attention. Samson knew my body; he’d played it many, many times before. But this was different. This was electrifying.

Sex with Samson had been phenomenal. Or so I had thought. But Humans do not feel as vampires do. Vampires have heightened senses. Our pain and pleasure receptors are far more advanced than a normal human being’s. We scent and feel and hear and see with such clarity; nothing can diminish what we experience unless we choose to turn down the dial on our senses.

For some reason, I chose not to. So, when the orgasm hit, it hit with the power of a tsunami. A rocket ship into space. I’d come many times since being turned; I’d even had a vampire help me. Jett’s attempts had been dominant and aggressive, something I had enjoyed at the time. But we’d both been fully dressed.

Skin on skin made a difference. But it was more than that, I could admit to myself. It was Samson’s skin on my skin that made all the difference here.

The orgasm completely blindsided me. My brain fritzed out. I made a sound that I’m not sure I’ve ever made before. My body shook with each new wave as I repeatedly climaxed.

And this was only a hand job. Imagine what actual sex would be like.

I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. Damn it.

I turned around.

Samson let me. His fangs were still out, but they’d withdrawn from my shoulder the second my feet had metaphorically touched the ground.

He stared at me. Cinnamon and taupe and chocolate watching me with hunger and desire and lust swirling inside. He licked his lips. I wondered what I tasted like. I remembered exactly what he had tasted like.

And then he moved. And I had a moment to relive the memory as his lips crashed down on my mouth and my fangs scratched his flesh and blood, a small, minuscule amount touched my tongue, making me growl.

My back hit the wall of the shower stall. My legs wrapped around Samson’s waist. His hands fisted in my hair and his tongue delved inside. He kissed me like a starving man. I kissed him back as though he were mine.

And then he shifted his pelvis, adjusted his hold on me and sank himself inside.

12

Broken

Wait. No. This wasn’t meant to happen. I wasn’t meant to let this happen. And then Samson started to rock, and my body reacted the only way it knew how. I rocked back to meet each thrust, seeking further contact, tilting my hips at just the right angle to get his thick, hard cock to hit my g-spot. Again and again and again.

Game over. I was done. The part of me that is vampire wanted what it wanted and the part of me that is still human - if there even is a part of me that is still human - just went along for the ride.

And what a ride. He didn’t just fuck me, although the speed and force of each thrust of his cock would have you believe Samson was fucking me into the next town. But no, he also kissed me with such devotion, held me with such surety, and made all manner of desperate and lust-filled sounds.

Samson made love to me as only a vampire could. Hard, fast, dirty and with such care and attention that I knew he wouldn’t come until I had at least a couple of times.

The first - or second, depending on how you looked at it and I sure as hell looked at the one he’d given me with his fingers as counting - orgasm made the walls rattle. Or that could have been my scream on release that did it. Samson pulled his mouth off mine and watched me climax, his hips never faltering, his body never slowly, his touch never stopping from seeking more responses.

I rolled my head back on the shower wall, the water steaming up the stall around us. Samson growled low and then licked up the side of my neck. I tilted my head as if I knew what to do; as if there was no doubt in my mind that I’d let him.

There should have been. I should have been stopping this. I needed to stop this before something happened that I would regret. I was fairly sure at this juncture that I could no further regret having sex with this man than I could fly. But if sex led to something else, say mating perhaps, then yeah, I would regret it. I wasn’t ready to mate even if my Dark Shadow was.

But I was ready for another orgasm, and Samson gave it.

The shout I made this time echoed in the bathroom, sounding as though I repeated it a thousand times. Part of me thought perhaps I had. But even a vampire wasn’t that good.

Samson was though, I thought deliriously. He’d brought another orgasm on the last, and just as it hit, his head descended, and his lips brushed the skin on the side of my neck, and his fangs slid in.

He sucked in time to his thrusts. A rhythm that did all manner of sensual things to my body. I pulled him closer, tilted my head further, held his face against my neck as though I was scared he’d pull his fangs out.

He made a hungry sound and then spun us away from the wall, stepping out of the shower without having to open his eyes. We made it to the bed before he pulled his fangs out, and then we were down on the soft mattress, Samson’s big body above mine as he rocked into me and almost through me, making the bed bounce.

He rolled us when the headboard banged against the wall, and then stared up at me, naked and wet above him, his eyes taking in every inch as his fingers followed in their path.

“Ride me, babe,” he said. Sexy Samson was such a turn on.

I rolled my hips. There was no stopping me now. He’d given me several mind-blowing orgasms. I’d tasted him. He’d tasted me. It was time to rock his world. I writhed above him, lifting my arms above my head, making my breasts bounce. He reached up and cupped them. Squeezed them this side of painful. Growled up at me as his cock thrust hard, hitting a deeper spot. Not quite my g-spot but something almost better. I wanted him deeper. I wanted him all the way inside me. I wanted it all.

That thought gave me pause, and then Samson tilted his neck in just the right way to make the vein on the side stand out.

My fangs were down, and my tongue was licking over the spot in the next heartbeat. I tried, halfheartedly to pull back, but I am vampyre, and I take what I want.

He tasted as I remembered him. But better. Everything was better with his cock filling me up and his scent filling me up and his blood filling me up. Everything.

I rolled my hips and rode his cock as his blood slipped down my throat and my Sanguis Vitam wrapped around us. His blood life force followed after mine as if it had been waiting for the invitation. And then there was one more thing filling me up, and I knew something had to give, something had to break, a wave cresting or a supernova exploding or an orgasm that rivalled all others.

I came so hard I couldn’t see, which is saying something for a vampire. And then Samson was shouting my name and thrusting up into me, his hands on my hips, holding me down as he filled me up in yet another way. Our bodies shook as our Sanguis Vitam danced and for a split second, mine wrapped so tightly around his I couldn’t tell where I ended and he started.

With panted breaths, I collapsed on his chest. Moisture from the shower or our activities slid between us, sending my nerve endings into overdrive. I whimpered.

“Shhh,” Samson said, stroking my back carefully. “It will ease in a moment.”

“I feel…”

“Everything,” he finished for me. “I know. It will ease. Give it time.”

I breathed through the sensations, so many I couldn’t begin to catalogue them. Samson held me to him, stroked me lightly, and kissed the side of my neck where he had bitten me. Slowly the sensations started to dissipate, and I was left with the warmth of his body, the touch of his fingers and the press of his hard muscles against mine.

And pine needles and musk all over my body.

I knew I’d smell like him now, and he’d smell like me, but the scents wouldn’t stay mingled forever. Unless we mated. I wasn’t sure how one did that. It wasn’t simply by having sex; I knew that much. Otherwise, vampires would be a cranky, sex-starved lot. Something else was involved, but I didn’t know what and I didn’t want to ask for fear of him thinking I wanted that.

Instead, I studied Samson’s pulse on the side of his neck and the two little punctures that showed where my fangs had slid in. I looked at them for a while, waiting for them to heal and disappear.

They didn’t.

My stomach dropped.

I reached up and touched my neck, but the marks where Samson had fed had already gone.

I pulled back. Samson looked up at me with a carefully neutral face.

I got up, feeling the loss of him acutely, but desperately needing that space.

Samson watched me as I stared back at him in horror.

“What have I done?” I whispered.

“Nothing I didn’t want you to do,” he said.

“What?”

“You gave me your Sigillum.”

No. No no no no. I shook my head, taking a step back. Samson sat up slowly, possibly scared he’d make me run if he moved any faster.

I felt like running. Holy shit! I’d marked him. Permanently. How? Why? Oh, fuck-a-duck.

“I didn’t mean to,” I said, pathetically.

And Samson shut all the careful neutral down and became simply blank.

Way to reject someone after you’ve done the nasty.

I wanted to backpedal. But I really wanted to run.

I’d marked him. Oh, fuck. Somehow I’d always thought my Sigillum would involve a little Light. But I didn’t have access to my Light, did I? The Dark Shadow did. And she was making it very clear that this was all on me. She was silent, watchful, but separate. More separate from me than she’d ever been. She was distancing herself from all of this, not because she didn’t want it, but because she wanted me to make this decision for myself.

This was on me. Whether I mated Samson or not. Whether I marked him or not. This was on me.

Until she saw the need to step in and take matters into her own hands.

Part of me wanted to be thankful for her tact, for her not interfering. Part of me was fuming that I couldn’t blame this on her. That it was all on me.

I’d chosen to mark Samson. In the heat of the moment and not aware of what I was doing, I had marked him. But Lucinda had once told me that giving someone your Sigillum was only possible if both parties wanted it. So, somewhere, deep, down inside, I’d wanted to place my mark on the vampire before me.

I’d done this. I didn’t know how. But at the time, I’d wanted it fiercely.

I am not a coward. If I fuck up, I own it. But telling Samson that would only send the knife further into his already shattered heart.

He didn’t so much as show an ounce of hurt, but the Dark Shadow inhaled, and the Dark Shadow made sure I scented what I already knew. White lilies and loose leaf tea. Decaying leaves and grass. And the real whammy; bruised rose petals and overripe summer fruit. Sorrow. Disappointment. And pain.

I couldn’t tell him it was a mistake, so I did the next best thing.

“Why didn’t you mark me?”

He blinked. A smattering of what he was feeling flashed across his face, along with a good dollop of hope. The Dark Shadow remained thankfully quiet; no inhaling and confirming that emotion.

“I didn’t think you were ready,” he said eventually. I wasn’t. “But don’t let my choice not to mark you today,” he added, “convince you that I do not want the world to see I am yours.”

I scowl at him.

“But if you mark me, wouldn’t that mean I am yours?”

He smiled, it was small, not his usual grin, but it was something.

“It doesn’t work like that, Gigi. When you wear my mark, it tells all other supernaturals that I have given myself to you freely. That I am honoured to be yours.”

“That’s screwed up,” I said.

He grinned, more like his normal sexy grin. I breathed a little easier.

“When you wear my mark, all will know that I am lost to you. That I will do anything for you. That I will protect and honour and care for you until my life is no more.”

“So,” I said, very carefully, “you wearing my mark says all of that about me.”

I saw the realisation on his face instantly; he’d screwed up. He should have been downplaying it and not making it sound like I’d just declared to the world that I was a lovesick puppy following around at his heels begging for any scrap of attention he could throw to me.

“Well, no, not quite. That is to say…”

I held up my hand to stall him. And then I had no idea what to say. This was big. This was scream-it-to-the-world-and-wear-the-shame-afterwards big. Everyone would know that I had picked Samson. That I had given him something, I should never have given away.

“Gigi,” he said.

“No,” I whispered and started for the shower, aware only then that I’d been standing there naked and not given a rat’s arse about it.

“Gigi,” he tried again, following me.

I stopped at the door to the bathroom and glared at him.

“I’m showering alone,” I said and shut the door in his face.

“This is not over,” he said through the door, not bothering to raise his voice because he knew damn well that I could hear him. “I am honoured to have your mark. I will wear it with pride. And I long for the day that you will accept mine.”

“Never gonna happen!”

“I can be patient,” he said. “I’ll wear you down. One day you may even beg me for it.”

“In your dreams, vampire!”

“In my dreams, we are mated. And I not only wear your Nosferatu Sigillum but your Nosferatin Light.”

He paused, perhaps waiting for me to argue that. But it was his dream. Not mine. I said nothing.

“Do you know what I thought when you offered me your mark?”

Nothing. I thought absolutely nothing because I wasn’t aware of what I was doing.

“I thought my world had suddenly become brighter. My life had suddenly become fuller. My purpose had been found. You gave me completion. You gave me everything I had ever wanted. And at that moment, in that singular moment when your Sanguis Vitam infused your bite, I thought I had never loved someone as much as I love you.”

I wrapped a towel around me and stepped up to the bathroom door. My hand went for the handle, and in the last second before touching it, I placed it against the door instead. So sure that I could feel his heat through the wood.

“I know you do not feel the same way,” he said. I closed my eyes and tried not to notice that my heart was breaking. “I understand, Georgia. I do. But know this, I have never stopped loving you. I love you now more than I have ever loved another. I pledge myself to you. No matter what your final choice is, I will always love you. And I will always cherish what you have given me just now. I will wear it with pride, with honour, with my heart on my sleeve if I must.”

I lowered my forehead to the door and rested it there, feeling dizzy. Feeling like I might fall through the damn thing if I couldn’t stop the feeling of heartache before it consumed me.

“This mark does not diminish you, Georgia,” he said softly as if he knew I was standing just the other side of the door. “It does not take away any of your power, your strength. In fact, to vampyre, it means the exact opposite. It means there is someone in this Dark world who willingly wears your mark for all to see. It means you have a vampire in your corner no matter what. We may fight. We may go our separate ways. But the mark remains. And it tells one and all that even if you stand alone, there is a vampire who chose you. Who accepted you. Who took what you offered because you were worthy.”

He is worthy, the Dark Shadow murmured.

I shook my head, but it wasn’t to disagree. It was to stop the tears that threatened to fall.

“You are worthy, Georgia,” Samson said, almost parroting the Dark Shadow. “I choose you because you are the most worthy person I have ever met; human or vampire or Nosferatin. I choose you.”

Damn him.

I reached for the door handle and opened it up before I could think better.

He stood there, cinnamon in his eyes, but it was Samson who stood before me. His vampire, like mine, had retreated, letting us fight this battle alone. Letting us make this choice alone. No doubt his vampire agreed with him. Perhaps it even talked to him, badgered him as mine did me. I didn’t know. But in this, we stood before each other as Samson and Gigi. Not Black Dog and Dark Shadow.

“That was a good speech,” I whispered.

“It was, wasn’t it?” He smiled; it was careful as if he was protecting himself from me. “Did it work?”

“I don’t want a mate, Samson.”

“The mark does not mean we are mated.”

“But it’s what you want.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t mate with you.”

“Will you mate with Jett?”

“No.” Emphatic. Jett was something else to me; I wasn’t sure what, but despite the attraction, he was not my…

My what? Lover? Mate? Were they really different when I looked at Samson?

Fuck, this was confusing.

“I still love you,” I said because it seemed like the right thing to say.

He stared at me and then ran a hand through his hair and let out a burst of air.

“Bloody hell,” he murmured. “Why does that not sound like you mean it?”

“Because love is not always enough to fix broken things.”

“You’re not broken,” he rushed to say.

That’s not what I had meant. Sure, I was mixed up. Half one thing and half another. Two things that should not co-exist. But what was broken was not just me.

“You mean us,” Samson said, figuring out my meaning so easily. Despite everything, Samson and I understood each other. We were in tune with each other. I wasn’t sure I’d ever find such a connection with anyone else ever again.

“Georgia,” he said, and it sounded almost like a plea.

“I’ll always love you,” I whispered. “But I’m not sure I can forgive you.”

“Damn it!” he shouted. “What more must I do? You know you would have acted the same way had the tables been turned.” I nodded. I would have. We have rules. “Timing was not on our side,” he said. “One day, that’s all it would have taken for me to have told you. One fucking day. And then there would have been no secrets between us. No reason for you to think I had betrayed you.”

“Samson,” I said. “You’ve got it all wrong. I wouldn’t have wanted what you had offered. I wouldn’t have chosen this life for anything.”

Or anyone, I didn’t say.

He stared at me. Not breathing. Not moving. I didn’t want to, but I inhaled.

And confirmed the emotion.

Betrayal.

13

Shock

No one said a word in the car. Three vampires in such close proximity, you’d think one of us would have cracked under the pressure. But Samson hadn’t spoken to me since The Revelation and Gregor was well practised at keeping his emotions and thoughts to himself.

The limousine moved through Wellington’s outlying suburbs at a slow, inexorable pace, climbing higher into the surrounding hillside the farther out we got from the CBD. The Taniwha lived up in the Rimutaka Ranges, close enough to the city to be influenced by the Master, but far enough away to run free.

It was rough country. Heavily forested with the odd hiking trail. It seemed exactly like the sort of place a shapeshifter could go and be what Nut intended them to be. But the farther we got from civilisation, the harder it was to believe that the Taniwha were interested in New Zealand politics.

They had everything they needed out here. Solitude. Space to run free under the Full Moon. A Master controlled city nearby but not too nearby. Why come down out of the hills and cause trouble?

Well, they hadn’t caused trouble for the Wellington MPs, but they sure as hell had the Auckland ones. Was it because of Lucinda? Was there still a grudge there and the dead Alpha’s mate was only now seeking revenge for the Nosferatin’s part in his death?

I shook my head and stared out of the window, taking in the thick foliage as the car left the main roads and started heading towards Hicksville.

“How many are there?” I asked, breaking the silence like a crack of a gun.

Gregor didn’t show an ounce of surprise that I had spoken, but I felt Samson’s jerk even if he failed to make one.

“Thirty at last count,” Gregor said.

“And three of us,” I muttered.

“I do not expect trouble.”

“Trouble tends to appear unannounced.”

“I find trouble follows those who deserve it.”

“And you don’t deserve it?” I asked, sparing him an arched look.

“I am more of a deterrent than most.”

“Funny,” I said when he wasn’t trying to be.

“You lack a sense of self-preservation,” Gregor observed. “It will either end you or teach you a painful lesson.”

“I don’t plan on dying.”

“Then learn.”

I gritted my teeth and stared directly at him. Not something a sensible vampire would do when faced with a powerful member of the Iunctio who wanted them dead.

“You’re not my master,” I said. “Save the lessons for someone who cares.”

Samson made a sound beside me. He still didn’t look at me, but I knew that sound. He thought I was mad for provoking Gregor like this. But lashing out was my only defence. And right now I felt too vulnerable to let Gregor dominate me.

“You are a strange creature,” Gregor said as if I hadn’t just insulted him.

He pulled his silver eyes off me and looked at Samson. Samson was being a good little vampire and not staring at the powerful master directly. But he was aware of everything and everyone in that vehicle. If he had to, he’d act. But Samson was not as confrontational as I was.

“Are you aware of what you harbour?” Gregor asked him.

Samson did look at Gregor then. I was surprised at how steady his gaze was; how challenging it could be perceived.

“Yes,” Samson said just as I said, “No.”

Gregor’s lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. There was nothing remotely amusing about any of this.

“Which is it, Beauregard?” he asked. “Yes or no?”

“Yes.” Samson shot me a look; one I interpreted as Shut Up. But the fact that he’d looked at me at all was what really made my lips seal tightly shut. “I know what Georgia is.”

“Then you are complicit.”

“Will you seek my final death, too?” Samson demanded.

“You have protection even I would not dare to cross.”

How reassuring. Lucinda protected Samson from the Enforcer. What did that say about Lucinda? What did it say about me for not choosing to join her line?

“Lucinda knows, too,” Samson said.

It was the first time I’d noticed a reaction in the master vampire since we’d climbed in the car. Not just any reaction, either, but a gut-deep one. He was shocked.

He looked at me again; this time he studied me with a different air about him. Interest and confusion, if I wasn’t mistaken. The Dark Shadow inhaled and confirmed the emotions.

He did not know, she said softly.

Yeah, but what’s he gonna do now that he does know?

She said nothing. This could go any number of ways.

“Interesting,” the Master vampire said. Then he turned and purposefully looked out of the window.

My eyes automatically sought out Samson’s at my side. He looked perturbed, about the same as I felt except my discomfort was related to a possible death sentence, and his was more to do with watching the woman he loved get killed by someone he knew and possibly admired.

I could be a selfish bitch sometimes, I realised. I was so busy proving to myself and anyone else who wanted to know that I was a big, bad independent vampire. Standing up to the evil Master of the City who wanted my head on a platter. When in reality, all I was doing was making Samson suffer. He’d suffered enough because of me.

I looked back at Gregor and sighed. This was going to suck.

“I don’t want to die,” I said, the words tasting like cardboard in my mouth. “What will it take to strike an accord with you?”

Fuck-a-flying-duck, but the tension in the car right then hit the sky. Went right through it and shot into the outer atmosphere. Samson’s fangs were down, he’d angled his body ready to react. But I wasn’t sure how that reaction was going to go. Save me? Knock some sense into me?

“I answer to the Champion,” the Enforcer said, breaking the tension with a sledgehammer.

He was the Enforcer when he said that, too, which made matters worse. Not Gregor Morel, Master of Wellington City; friend, I thought, of Lucinda and Michel.

“Do you?” I asked because I couldn’t seem to help myself it seemed.

His eyes flashed pure platinum.

“Do not assume more than your station, vampire,” he said, Sanguis Vitam swirling in the small enclosed space between us, but not reaching out yet to touch.

“I could be useful,” I said, ignoring his warning completely. I either had to accept my fate, or I could fight it.

I was born fighting.

“You are an abomination.”

“I beg to differ.”

“You would. The wolf does not think itself a beast, and yet it rips the throat out of its prey mercilessly.”

“Would you kill the wolf for trying to feed?”

“I would kill the wolf if it tried to feed off me.”

“I don’t want anything but to be left alone,” I told him. “I’m only in your city because the Taniwha are and that’s only because they crossed my city’s borders and took three of what is ours. I have no intention of coming here again and causing trouble. I want the MPs back. I want the Taniwha to answer for what they’ve done.” I leaned forward and stared Gregor down. “I want to know what their intentions are. There’s been no ransom. No contact at all. One of the politicians bled so profusely at the scene that it’s possible he’s already dead. All the witnesses have had their memories wiped. This is bigger…”

“Memories wiped?” Gregor demanded, cutting me off. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”

“You were too busy trying to kill me.”

He swiped a hand through the air in dismissal.

“Taniwha are not capable of altering minds,” he said.

“They have pack magic, I’ve been told,” I argued.

“Yes. The type of magic that hides them, that allows them to escape. But to alter minds to such a degree is a Dark trait.” I refused to look at Samson when Gregor said that. “For all their blustering and rough edges, shapeshifters are more Light than Dark naturally. The odd few are Darker; have turned from the Light.” Like Rick, I thought. The old Taniwha Alpha. “But none would be able to wipe memories completely. Obscure truths, maybe. But not realities. How many were affected?”

“Only one at the first and second scenes, but three at the third, which involved the security detail who were out running with the MP.”

“And how many Taniwha at each scene?”

I hadn’t had a chance to check the last scene. It was outside, and the scents would have dissipated before I’d got there, so I hadn’t bothered. But the gap in my knowledge annoyed me.

“I can’t be sure about the last scene,” I reluctantly admitted, “but at the others, there were only two. Four different shapeshifters in total.”

Gregor studied me as if I was a particularly interesting bug. Or bunny rabbit maybe and he was the fox hunting me.

“Perhaps there is one who is capable of altering reality, but to have two?” He shook his head. “This goes beyond the Taniwha.”

And didn’t he sound put-out about that?

“What else have you not told me?”

I shrugged. “That’s it. No connection, other than the memory wipes, the fact that they’re MPs and the Taniwha. But like I said, I can’t confirm the last scene; it was outside, and the scents would have dissipated by the time I was brought in to do my thing.”

“And what is your thing, Nothus?”

“Georgia,” I snapped. “My name is Georgia. If we’re to work together, you will use my name and say it nicely.”

Samson groaned in disbelief.

The Dark Shadow sniggered.

Gregor leaned forward and got right up in my face, fangs flashing.

“Get one thing straight,” he snarled. “There is no us. No working together. No camaraderie. I am the Master of this City, and if I choose to use your talents, you will be my subordinate.”

I leaned forward and flashed fang in his face.

“Bite me!”

His hand wrapped around the back of my neck in a flash of barely seen movement, his lips were against my throat in the next unnecessary heartbeat, his fangs pierced skin. Samson shouted. The Dark Shadow growled. Sanguis Vitam slammed into Sanguis Vitam making the air crackle. I reached for my last weapon; the silver dagger in my boot. The Dark Shadow unleashed her control of my Light.

And Gregor jumped back before either of us could make our move. Blood trickled down the side of my neck. He hadn’t even licked the bite mark closed. A vampire of his age and experience wouldn’t have been so clumsy.

Unless he was in shock.

“Nosferatin,” he whispered. And then something swept across his face; something awful and visceral and full of such pain.

I didn’t want to. But I had to. I inhaled.

Washroom bleach. Apple mixed with lime. Bruised rose petals and overripe summer fruit. White lilies and loose leaf tea. And finally calming chamomile tea.

Surprise. Confusion. Pain. Sorrow. Compassion.

Shit. What did I do with all of that?

“How?” he asked, still not at full volume. Something had thrown the Master vampire for a loop.

A big arse loop.

“How?” he said again, his voice returning to normal.

“A long story,” I said, feeling uncomfortable.

“We have time.” And the car pulled over to the side of the road without him having to tell the driver.

We were clearly close to the Taniwha’s settlement. But Gregor had deemed this conversation more important than the missing politicians or the misbehaving shapeshifters. Which was telling.

I just didn’t know what it told me.

I looked at Samson. He had his blank mask on. He was uncertain, or he was worried, or he was any number of things and I’d scented enough in this vehicle to last a lifetime. Thankfully, the Dark Shadow agreed and just watched Gregor warily from behind my no doubt red-tinged eyes.

“This information is priceless,” I said softly.

“Name your price.”

I sucked in a breath of air that hurt. Looking at Samson again, I noted his mask had shattered. He looked shocked and definitely uncertain.

Vampires can lie. They can cheat and trick and fool you. They can do anything if they think it serves their purposes and is their right. Gregor could have been playing me. He could have been laying a trap and when I stepped into it, he could simply take my head and to hell with Lucinda’s anger and Samson’s heartache. I didn’t trust him. I couldn’t trust him.

But then the Dark Shadow inhaled when moments ago she’d been happy to keep that talent to herself, and pointed out that there was no scent of sharp citrus on the air. No scent of a lie.

He could still have ulterior motives, I told her.

Or he could be an ally.

You’re preaching caution and cooperation now?

We must survive.

She saw this as a means to ensure our survival. A way to make one threat, at least, disappear. We faced danger from so many different directions, having one of those threats removed could mean our life.

But Gregor Morel was more than your average Master Vampyre. He was a member of the Iunctio Council and answered to the Champion; the head vampire of all vampires.

Could his word be enough? Even if words to vampires meant more than they did to others?

“My life,” I said. That’s all there was to say, really.

“I understand,” the Master of Wellington City replied. “Whilst in my city, I pledge no harm shall befall you from me or mine.”

Not enough. Not nearly enough.

“And elsewhere?” I demanded.

“The same applies for Auckland, but I cannot say for anywhere else. I answer to the Champion. And should you harm that which is mine, I reserve the right to hunt you outside of those boundaries and take your life.”

Was that enough? I didn’t know. I’d wanted to escape; to run to South America or somewhere far from my troubles. But my troubles would have followed me regardless. Aliath could find me anywhere. The Iunctio might not have a presence in South America, but that didn’t mean that vampires weren’t there. Where could I hide? Nowhere.

So, that meant facing my fears and standing my ground.

I turned to Samson. “What do you think?” I asked.

His hand slipped into mine, and he held it tightly. All thoughts of our argument were gone from his face and person. Beside me sat my friend. My lover.

The vampire I trusted above all others.

“This is your life, Gigi,” he said. “This has to be your decision.”

I leaned in and whispered, even though we all knew Gregor could hear me, “But can I trust him?”

“He is vampyre,” Samson said simply. “Bind him.”

I sat back and looked at the Master of Wellington City who sat patiently across from me. I wondered if that patience was a front. The Dark Shadow laughed and let me scent his eagerness. He wanted to know this. It meant something to him. Was this really because he loved a Nosferatin and he felt a kinship with every other one?

No. It couldn’t be. There was more going on here than I knew, but one thing was for certain: I could remove a threat here today. I could make my life easier. Safer.

“OK,” I said. “I want an accord.”

“You shall have it.”

He pulled a stainless steel knife from inside his jacket; silver would only have harmed the both of us. He sliced his palm in the next heartbeat. This guy meant business.

He handed me the knife and said, “Do not use your Light.”

“My Light?”

“I will not accept it. I have not tested you, but even if we are compatible, I will not accept you. I have another in mind for such an honour.”

What the hell was he talking about?

“Don’t worry,” I said archly. “My Light’s well in hand.”

“Good.”

He pressed his palm to mine as soon as I’d sliced it. The Dark Shadow watched on silently, well in control of my Light. There’d never been any chance of it getting out without her consent, and right now she wasn’t feeling so inclined.

What did he mean? I asked her as our Sanguis Vitam connected, mingling through our blood, and the accord was sealed.

I have forgotten much, she said. Some of it returns. But not all.

I guessed that was an I Don’t Know.

My Dark Shadow had always felt ancient to me. Older than a newborn vampire. I’d thought that was to do with something Nut had done. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe vampires-within are reincarnated, and I just lucked out and landed an old one.

An old one with memory loss.

She snarled. I flashed her a metaphorical fang. Gregor started to wipe the drying blood off his hand with a handkerchief, drawing both of our attention.

He finished up and then lifted silver and platinum eyes to my face.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me who did this to you, so I can make them pay.”

I looked at him; stunned.

“He’s already dead,” I said. “I staked him.”

And for the first time since I had been turned, I didn’t blame Lucinda or Samson. Protecting them came naturally. Protecting them felt right.

“Good,” Gregor said. “Then tell me the rest. All of it. I paid the price, and I intend to reap the reward.”

Just what reward did he see in knowing so much about me?

It didn’t bear thinking about. So, I started to talk.

14

Fury

I didn’t tell him everything. He wanted to know how I had become what I am. How I had become a mix of Nosferatin and Nosferatu. Two things that should not co-exist. So, I didn’t tell him what my talents were, or what parts of me were all vampire, save to say what he already had seen; that I was sensitive to sunlight and that silver harmed me. Samson didn’t know about that last one. Nor about the fact that I needed an invitation to enter a human’s home. So, I glossed over both, hoped Gregor wouldn’t get pedantic, and just gave him a rundown on how Nut had acted to save me when my Sire had failed to turn me completely.

“Blessed by Nut,” Gregor said.

“I don’t see it as a blessing,” I replied, voice taut.

“Our Goddess does not visit everyone, Georgia,” he argued.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“And yet you have received something that most of our kind can only dream of. A gift that Nut does not bestow on many.”

“Have you met her?” I asked, interested despite myself.

“Yes.” He wouldn’t elaborate further.

The car began to move again without Gregor having to say a thing.

“We’re almost there,” he said, staring out the window.

I couldn’t tell if my question had upset him. He certainly wasn’t acting as I expected. I glanced out the window, but most of my attention was on the vampire before me. He was a puzzle I would have loved to work out, but we had more pressing things.

“They have to be keeping the MPs somewhere,” I mused.

Gregor brought his attention back to me, but it was Samson who answered.

“They may have gone to ground in Auckland.” It was possible.

So, I asked Gregor, “Will you be able to tell who’s missing?”

“Only if they are key players in their hierarchy,” he replied. “I have vampires who check on them occasionally. I have not had need to do so myself until now. I know who is their Alpha and who their Alpha trusts most. But more than that has not been a necessity.”

“Let’s hope the Alpha gives us something.”

“Agreed.”

The car turned off down a dirt road. There hadn’t been a signpost to say this was the right one. No Trespassers Beware or Beware of the Taniwha warnings. Just a pine tree-shrouded, narrow dirt road leading on a winding path up into the higher reaches of the Rimutakas. The moon was almost full; we must have been only a day or so away from a Full Moon. Possibly not the best time to be visiting the shapeshifters.

But the light it gave did help the driver navigate the poor excuse for a driveway. Even vampires needed a little assistance from time to time.

We came out into an open area; small log cabins edged the wide space. The moon shone down on rusted SUVs and banged up utes. I didn't think the Taniwha were kind to their cars. Several of the cabins had porches; some just had rudimentary steps down into deep puddles of mud. Our driver managed to turn the limousine around by making a precision three-point turn. There wasn’t much space for anything else.

We sat in the car and stared at the silence; if silence was a thing to be stared at. And this was. No sound in the trees, no moreporks or owls. No insects or rodents. Nothing. The place seemed deserted.

“Perhaps they’re running in their Taniwha forms,” Samson suggested.

“Someone should have greeted us,” Gregor replied.

He opened his door and stepped out into the night. Showing fear in front of a vampire was a big no-no. Showing it in front of a bunch of hillbilly shapeshifters was probably a bad idea, too. So, I got out behind him and inhaled the scents that made up the night. Pine needles and musk was the first I identified. My body instantly homing in on Samson, despite the plethora of natural and unnatural scents that surrounded. I pushed the visceral reaction I had to Samson’s signature scent aside and concentrated on the ones that could get us killed.

“They’re here,” I said. Wet dog prevailed and not a lingering scent but one that meant they were nearby and watched. “In the trees,” I added, turning in a slow circle. “All around us.”

The noose had closed, and we’d walked our own dumb necks right into it.

I glanced at Gregor. He looked like a very angry vampire. He wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Greet your Master of the City,” he demanded.

Nothing moved. No one made a sound.

“Show yourselves!” he shouted.

We waited. The Taniwha watched.

I couldn’t reach the shadows to use them; we were out in the open, and the moon was too bright. But I could try something that might help. I pulled on my Dark Shadow’s Sanguis Vitam and sent it out into the night with her eager blessing.

Hunt, she said.

Yes, I agreed.

Together we found the weakest Taniwha; singled him out as if we were lionesses attacking a herd of antelope; separating him from the rest. It was easier than I thought it would be, but the Dark Shadow wasn’t fighting me. We worked as one.

The Taniwha walked out of the trees to our left; a lone figure fighting the compulsion and losing. He was young. Ten years old I guessed, and he was in human form. I felt bad about what I was doing, briefly. But these Taniwha had entered my city, taken some of my people, and done harm. I didn’t know what they had planned, but the evidence so far was compelling.

I only wished the weakest link hadn’t been a child.

Gregor glanced at me, then flicked his eyes back to the boy.

“You’re doing?” he asked.

“Yes.” There was no point denying it. Some vampires could use their Sanguis Vitam to control people. It was different to glazing them and less prevalent in our kind. But it wasn’t entirely unheard of.

Or, at least, I hoped so. I was aware that Samson was watching me and not the boy. Yet another secret I had kept from him. If I ever did decide to mate with him, we had a hell of a rocky basis to form that kind of lifelong relationship on.

“Interesting,” Gregor said, making me think it was more significant than I had hoped. Jett had warned me. I wasn’t very good at heeding warnings, though.

The boy came to a stop before Gregor because I placed him there. The Dark Shadow gave me a nudge, making me inhale the scents on the air. The Taniwha were angry. Scared, angry and volatile. I might have just made things worse.

“What’s your name?” Gregor asked the kid.

“Murray,” he said. He had dark skin, broad features and spoke with a typical kiwi accent. I’m not sure why, but I thought they’d be different. Not so…normal.

“Where is your Alpha?” Gregor asked.

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” the kid said.

“I am your Master of the City,” Gregor pointed out. “You should tell me anything I want.”

“Not our master,” the boy said through clenched teeth.

I didn’t want to, but I ramped up the Sanguis Vitam. His hand shook when he lifted it to point at a particular area of the trees. The whole experience made me feel sick.

“Just come out,” I said. “We know you’re there. Make it easy on yourselves.”

Nothing. The kid’s teeth had started to chatter.

And then in the next instant, a wave of power washed over him and us, and he changed into a Taniwha. I’m not gonna lie; even ten-year-old Taniwha are frightful. And if this was a kid, I dreaded to think how big an adult Taniwha was.

His head was shaped like a shark’s; long snout and row upon row of sharp teeth. His shoulders were broad and his hindquarters were as high as my chest. He was covered with sandpapery scales, dark grey everywhere except for a white stripe down his belly. His paws were tipped in sharp claws and attached to tree stump sized arms and legs. There was a barbed spike on the end of his tail.

It swished. Menacingly.

Out of the shadows of the trees stepped a dozen more Taniwha. Bigger. Scarier. Oozing stringent ammonia. My Dark Shadow immediately released my Light, allowing me to touch it unhindered for what felt like the first time in days not hours. I let it thrum just beneath the surface, there but not there. Its familiar presence was more reassuring than I thought anything had a right to be.

Samson stepped closer to my side, but only so we provided a united front and could cover more of the approaching threat than if we were apart. Gregor hadn’t shifted an inch; all Master vampire and proud of it.

“Where is David?” he asked.

“Gone,” one of the Taniwha said in a guttural growl. It was fingernails on chalkboard ghastly.

“Who stands in his stead?” Gregor demanded.

“I do,” a Taniwha said, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she sounded female.

“You are not Beta,” Gregor announced.

“No.” She stared him down.

There were more Taniwha in the trees who hadn’t come out. I wondered if Gregor and Samson knew, but I didn’t have a monopoly on vampire powers. Both were Masters in their own right and quite capable of assessing the threat level. So, I kept my mouth shut and let my Light leak out.

Nosferatin Light is designed to recognise the Dark in vampires, but it can also touch the Dark in other creatures as well. I don’t feel the pull of a human about to kill. Nor any supernatural other than vampires. But I know Dark when I see it, and these Taniwha were steeped in Darkness.

“Are you declaring a change in leadership?” Gregor asked.

“If I were, I would not declare it to you.”

Part of me liked the stubbornness of the girl. Part of me liked that she practically spat the words in the Master of the City’s face. This girl had balls, but she was also very Dark. Her anger stemmed from a Dark place indeed.

“I am the Master of this City,” Gregor growled. “You are subject to my laws like all others.”

“We no longer answer to you.”

The clearing filled with more and more Taniwha. Five, ten. I lost count. Many of them carried silver. Chains. Knives. A fucking candlestick of all things. And all of it was silver. While Gregor had been letting one of his vampires check on the shapeshifters in his city, they’d been arming themselves for a supernatural fight.

“This is a dangerous road you choose to tread,” Gregor told the woman. “Step wisely for there can be no going back from this.”

“You are not welcome on our land,” she said in answer.

There were too many of them. Only three of us and the driver, who on closer inspection was at least a level two Sanguis Vitam Master. So, four powerful vampires against twenty odd Taniwha in their shark form. If I needed convincing that these creatures were involved in the abductions, I had it. Hostility, irreverence, and shark-like features. They’d hit the hat-trick. But why the politicians?

What did this woman hope to achieve?

I watched Gregor out of the corner of my eye. This was his turf, but I was ready to act if he didn’t. The Dark Shadow agreed wholeheartedly.

“Help is coming,” Gregor’s voice said in my ear, his Sanguis Vitam leaving a distinct mark on the air. I thought perhaps he had told Samson as well because Samson cracked his knuckles as if readying for a fight.

I gathered my Light, wishing I could warn both Gregor and Samson. But with this number of opponents, over such a large area, I couldn’t waste the time nor energy on being precise. I waited for the right moment. For the Taniwha to show their hand. And then they did. Offering up a war cry to the moon, a howl of defiance and anger that rattled my bones, they charged. Silver glinting as they brandished their makeshift weapons.

They’d still hurt, I was sure, but being challenged with a candlestick made the moment seem a little surreal. And then my Light went out in a single blast.

Taniwha fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Samson made a sound of distress, but Gregor washed the pain induced Light off as if it meant nothing. Some of the shapeshifters managed to recover quicker than others. But I’d culled the number sufficiently for this to be a fair fight.

Four powerful vampires, two of which were still recovering, against a dozen pissed off Taniwha.

I couldn’t touch my knife, so my hands became my weapons. My fangs joined in the fun when a creature got too close to my lips. I spun and danced, as only a Nosferatin could, surprised to see Gregor doing something similar. I kept close to Samson until he gave me a nod of his head, indicating he had recovered enough to watch his own back.

And then the real fun began. Bones snapped. Scales cracked. Blood spurted over the dirt. A Taniwha got close enough to draw their claws down my side. I felt the skin split, and the heat of blood as it quickly soaked my shirt. I spun around and kicked him in the muzzle, then followed that up with a punch to the side of his head. He crumpled before me, but then there was another.

I lost count of the blows I delivered and the scratches I received in return. Blood scented the air; Taniwha and Nosferatu. Samson staggered. Where the hell was Gregor’s backup? But it had taken us well over an hour to drive out here, and unless they could fly or use a handy nearby Ley line for faster than normal travel, they’d have to run or drive. Both of which would take time, even if they were racing.

For now, we were on our own, and those Taniwha who had been affected by my Light had recovered.

We’d incapacitated some. Maybe half a dozen. But now another ten were joining the fight, and we were tiring. We closed ranks. Putting our backs together and facing the mob of raging, moon called shapeshifters. Silver flashed, a knife was thrown at my head. I ducked. Something rattled. A chain flew through the air, wrapping itself around the leg of Gregor’s driver. He gritted his teeth and tried to stand his ground, but several of the Taniwha added their strength to the one holding the chain, and they all pulled together.

It was a tug-of-war the vampire could not win.

Gregor shouted. A sound of warning or a curse at the Taniwha. His vampire jerked and then fell hard to the ground. In seconds they’d dragged him away from us.

We were losing this fight.

I gathered my Light again, but one more blast and I’d feel the effects. It wasn’t a limitless supply. I was exhausted already; if I used my Light, my reaction times would falter, and there were more silver chains in the crowd that surrounded us.

But then the Taniwha stilled as one as if they knew they had us outnumbered, surrounded, done. Samson looked at me. I saw so much in his gaze. So much I had wanted to deny but could no longer find the strength to. So much that made me want to do it all over again. To make better decisions. To do it right this time.

The female Taniwha stepped forward.

“Submit, and we will spare a life.”

Why one? So that one could warn others? Or did she want to play games and make us fight amongst ourselves for the right to live? We were vampyre. Survive at all costs was our motto.

But I was a Nothus and Samson was only a level four Sanguis Vitam Master. I looked at Gregor. His fangs were down; his eyes were pure platinum. He growled low in his chest and stared the female Taniwha down. Not giving her an inch. Not submitting in this or any lifetime.

Fuck this, I thought. If I was going to die anyway, I was going to go out in a flash of blinding light. Or Light, as the case may be.

Ready? I asked the Dark Shadow.

She didn’t reply immediately. I could sense her need to fight, to survive, to find an alternate solution.

And then she growled, Ready. And joined her strength to mine.

For the first time ever, I felt complete. I felt as one. Not half of this and half of that and mixed up beyond measure. I felt as one being, one creature, Dark and Light, good and bad, strength and power.

I gathered my Light, stroked it one last time, and then let it out with as much rage and frustration and fury at my fucked up life as I could manage.

The clearing exploded. Trees went up in flames. Every single being around me fell to the ground; some managing to resist for a moment, but they all eventually caved to our combined power.

Including Gregor Morel, the Master of Wellington City, the Enforcer for the Iunctio.

I took a step. My knees gave out. The ground hit with a jarring force that sent sparks of pain up into my spine. All around me lay moaning or unconscious forms. But I had to keep going. I had to get us out of here. I pushed up off the dirt and crawled toward Samson first.

He wasn’t breathing. But he was still alive. Undead. Whatever.

I looked between where he lay and the limousine and let out a whimpered curse. Then started to drag him closer to the vehicle. I’d managed to stuff Samson inside, sweating and swearing and swaying while I’d done it, and had returned for Gregor when the first Taniwha recovered. I had nothing left to give. I was so close to getting us out of there. The injustice of it all made me scream, wasting more precious resources.

My voice echoed off the tall trees that stood sentinel at the edge of the clearing. It bounced back and then echoed for a while. The Taniwha growled; lowered his muzzle; dark eyes narrowed.

I pushed Gregor behind me and whispered, “Bring it.”

I was born fighting. I’d die fighting. And all the fighting I’d done in-between would mean nothing.

The Tanwiha charged.

And met the tempered steel edge of a silver sword. His head flew off in one direction while his body took one step farther. And then dropped.

Aliath, Prince of Dökkálfa, Herra of the Hár Lords, turned to look at me and said, “Your time is up.”

I sat back on my butt and laughed.

My Dark Shadow pointed out that this wasn’t funny.

And then Aliath stepped forward, hand raised, green eyes vibrant, and the world faded to black at last.

15

Agreement

I heard my best friend calling my name.

“Get up!” Kara shouted. “Get up! They’re coming!”

My eyes flicked open; adrenaline made my skin prickle. Light leaked out from my fingertips. The Dark Shadow prowled inside, relief at my consciousness only dulling the sharp sting of her claws as she paced inside. She said nothing, but retreated somewhat, taking my Light with her.

I looked around where I was lying. A cave. Cold stone floor at my back. Torches in wall sconces on two sides. An opening shedding some strangely coloured light into the edge of the room. And Aliath.

“We are close to the Ljósálfar border,” he said.

I licked my lips and tried to swallow; my throat barely moved it was so dry.

“Water,” I rasped.

He ignored me.

“This is where I believe they entered our lands.”

He stared down at me as if I was a filthy bug he didn’t want to get too close to.

I ignored the rebuke and tested my arms, my legs, my head. Nothing broken. My body ached, I thought my throat would burst into fire, but otherwise, I was in one piece.

And then I thought of how I’d left Samson and Gregor back with the Taniwha.

I sat up, fighting the dizziness, and growled, “You! You left them there. Unconscious.”

“They split up once they crossed into Dökkálfa,” he said. “We have caught one of their number, but others exist.”

Damn the sanctimonious fairy fucker.

“Samson and Gregor were compromised!” I yelled at him. “The Taniwha could have killed them by now.”

“The hunt continues, Hundr.”

“Would you damn well answer me!” I shouted. “I don’t give a flying fuck about your spies! We left two vampires in enemy territory, compromised!”

Aliath’s eyes bled all other colour but chartreuse. It was blinding. Mesmerising. He started to chime. I swayed toward him. And then gritted my teeth and reached for my Dark Shadow.

She rose up at my calling. Sanguis Vitam melding with my Light. The cave began to glow. Aliath chimed faster. It was a battle of wills, and right then, I was prepared to go all the way to hell to fight the bastard. His magic met mine. The room burst apart, stones falling, the ground rumbling, the mountain we must have been in shaking all around us.

“Stop!” he commanded.

“Take me back!” I ordered.

Both demands were laced with our powers. Both hit with the force of a two-tonne truck. Both shattered.

We fell back; panting.

Aliath slowly cocked his head to the side and stared at me and then he started to laugh.

“Oh my,” he said. “How wrong she was. How deliciously, perfectly wrong she was.”

“The vampires,” I growled, ignoring his rambling.

“Assistance arrived as we departed,” he said with a wave of his hand as if that bit of info was irrelevant.

I let out a breath of air I didn’t need to release and almost cried with the relief it gave me.

“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” I said, trying for a neutral tone and failing miserably.

“I did not think it was important.”

No, to the fairy, only the hunt for Isoleth’s spies was important. Only those things that directly affected him.

“I need to get back to my realm,” I announced, pushing up off the cold floor and working hard not to show how weak I felt.

“We have an agreement.”

How could I forget?

I winced as I stood to full height. My hand automatically went to my side. It came away wet. I glanced down and saw blood. I hadn’t healed yet; that definitely wasn’t right.

Showing any weakness in front of this creature was not wise, but I couldn’t hunt like this.

“I need to feed,” I said through gritted teeth.

“There are no humans nearby.”

“Then take me back.”

He stared at me. He hadn’t downshifted on the bright eyes mumbo-jumbo yet, but I found I could resist it if my Dark Shadow kept her Sanguis Vitam entwined with my Light.

Yes, she said in agreement.

I guessed that was a Yes for sticking around and fighting the fairy’s influence with me. Of course, she needed me to feed too. Without blood, we couldn’t heal. And right now any excess Sanguis Vitam we had was working hard to combat Aliath’s power. We couldn’t keep this up much longer.

“Fairy,” I said, and my voice was melodic; half mine and half hers. “I need blood. I cannot hunt your spies unless I feed. Now.”

He slowly nodded his head. And then the world shifted, and we were somewhere else.

Heat seeped into my pores and sand swirled around my ankles. It was nighttime, but the ambient light made it feel like it was the middle of the day. I glanced around, taking in the tall sky rise buildings, the palm trees, and the Arabic writing on a billboard sign.

I closed my eyes briefly and then glanced at Aliath.

“I don’t know my way around Dubai,” I said.

“What is there to know? Humans are humans everywhere.”

But I didn’t just pick any old human to feed from. I needed them to be the dregs of society. It felt wrong to feed off innocents. I’d done it, of course. I’d fed off the young and the beguiled. But they’d come to me, entered my domain. Seen what I had to offer and gladly accepted the price. Here would be different. Here I couldn’t lay a trap for the hungry. And here I had no idea where to search for the depraved.

But telling any of that to the fairy before me would have been a waste of my time. Even vampires didn’t understand my need for justifying what I was. So, how could Aliath?

“Take me somewhere else,” I said. What was near Dubai that I could use? India? Egypt?

“Enough!” Aliath snapped, the force of his will overpowering my Dark Shadow instantly.

Had he been hiding his strength? Had he let us think we could fight him on equal ground? Or had he simply reached his limit and dug deep?

This was becoming a clusterfuck to rival all clusterfucks. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t hide. And I couldn’t fight. Damn the Dark Fairy.

I picked my Dark Shadow up off the metaphorical ground and patted her on the back. She snapped her teeth at me. I growled.

Aliath walked off, heading Nut knows where, and I reluctantly followed. What choice did I have? Maybe that was what he intended; to prove to me that I had no choice in any of this. That I was at his beck and call and subject to his whims. Like everyone else, he wanted to use me. And like everyone else, he wanted to control me while he did it.

We passed groups of people dressed in white. Dark-skinned and dark-eyed, but I didn’t sense any Dark in them. Well, not enough Dark for my liking. Aliath kept glancing at me, waiting for me to pick my dinner from the buffet he was supplying. I took perverse pleasure in denying him.

He said nothing and walked straight into the foyer of a hotel. There were a few white-clothed men inside, but this time we’d found the jackpot. Tourists in bright colours, some of which were in the hotel’s bar and lounge.

“This is more like it,” I said and began to prowl.

It didn’t take long to find my quarry. A businessman who was chatting up an air hostess. I overheard enough of their conversation to know that much about them, and the way he stared at her breasts and not her eyes told me the rest. When the woman excused herself to go to the bathroom, and the man stood up thirty seconds later to follow her uninvited, I pounced.

Like the lioness we were, the Dark Shadow and I cornered our prey and took him down.

I was aware Aliath had stood back, allowing us the moment in private. His consideration was no doubt due to his sensibilities and not some misplaced use of manners. I glazed the human, confirmed his intentions had not been sound and then fed.

The Dark Shadow purred; sending waves of pleasure through me for a hunt done well. She didn’t care that the man had been about to do something nefarious. She only cared that we had out-stalked a stalker.

Good hunt, she said.

I didn’t argue.

She allowed me to pull back before we took too much, but only because we could sense someone coming. I stared down at the slightly dazed businessman and said, “Go to bed. Sleep this off. And don’t follow any more women.”

That last command would only take for a while. Long enough for him to finish his business in Dubai and for the air hostess to fly out. It was all I could do without the Dark Shadow lending more of her Sanguis Vitam, and she didn’t see what the benefit would be for doing that right now.

We had a long way to go before she and I were on the same page, but at least we were reading from the same book at last.

I walked out of the hallway, the slice in my side already healed, Sanguis Vitam hiding my ripped clothes and blood splattered body from Norm sight. Aliath looked at me and nodded his head, and then we were back in the cave, the torches spluttering, the smell of Álfheimr surrounding, a low-level hum on the air as if the combined chimes of fairies made a permanent background sound.

Perhaps I could have tried to run. But to where? And how far would he have let me? I was acutely aware now that I couldn’t overpower the Herra of the Hár Lords. Royal blood ran through his veins and Darkness consumed his soul. And he’d taken great lengths to show me exactly where I sat on the totem pole of power.

I thought I might have just hated him a little.

Hell, who was I kidding? I despised the fairy fucker.

I studied him. He let me. I could see it; that Darkness. He was Dökkálfa. Dark Fey. He had Light, but he chose not to use it. Aliath was content to be what he was and had no desire to be any better.

I had been blinded by my rage; by my change in circumstances. I’d blamed Samson and Lucinda. I’d told myself that he meant nothing to me now and she wanted more than I could give her. I’d been wrong on both counts.

There were others I should have been warier of. One of which was standing right in front of me; had made a point to show me just how trapped I actually was. I had no way of getting back to my realm, to Mark and the case. To Samson.

Without obliging Aliath.

And I had no way of fighting him and coming out on top. I might succeed for a while. I might even do some damage. But if I used Sanguis Vitam, I’d need to feed sooner rather than later.

And there were no humans in Álfheimr.

I had no choice. I was here now. Even if we hadn’t had an agreement, I had no choice but to find Aliath’s spies.

“Are we doing this?” I demanded.

He smiled. It was almost too much to watch. Everything he did, he did with the intention of testing me; pushing me to my limits; seeing how much I could resist his allure.

My Dark Shadow released my Light.

It is better here, she explained. Better than her Sanguis Vitam, I thought. Using Light taxed me, but it did not make the need to feed increase. I could do this. I didn’t think I could win, but I could fight back the only way I knew how.

Because let’s face it; I was born fighting.

So, I wrapped my Light around me and pulled it in tight. And the power of Aliath’s visage diminished.

I smiled at the fairy and received a bark of laughter in response.

“She has no idea,” he murmured.

“Who?”

“Sofiq.” The Dark Fey Queen. “She thought to contain you; control you. Instead, she has made you more powerful.”

I gathered he approved, but why that would be, I didn’t know. He’d just proven his desire to control me. I couldn’t stop the hunt he demanded. He knew this. We both did. So, why be happy that I was more than what they had thought?

Because he wanted to use me.

I’d make his life a living hell before I gave him more of myself.

The Dark Shadow purred. She liked that idea.

I sent my Light out, seeking, searching, and found his Dark. Hello, Fairy. And then I wrapped my light around it and tugged.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said, and the chiming started.

I tugged harder. He tugged back.

“This is a waste of time,” he pointed out, reasonably.

“Time moves slower here than back on Earth. I’ve got enough to spare.”

“Not always. And time here is relevant now. We must catch these spies.”

“Or what?” Why was he so keen to help Sofiq? He could challenge her, I was sure. She certainly knew he was up to something; she didn’t trust him if that scene in the throne room was anything to go by.

Just what was Aliath up to?

“Enough!” he said, and threw his back into it, pulling his Dark back and attacking my Light.

I could have let him; it would have hurt less. But the demanding fairy before me needed to learn a lesson.

Using me would cost.

Lucinda once told me that Light would always triumph over the Dark. You only had to believe. I hadn’t. How could I? I hadn’t even wanted to be what I was, and then I was so Dark it seemed an impossibility. But I’m not only vampyre, and although Sofiq chose to cut the part of me off that is all Light, she hadn’t stolen it; maybe she couldn’t have even if she’d tried. She’d just moved it. Given it to someone else.

But my Dark Shadow was all vampyre. And a vampyre’s number one motto was to survive at all costs.

So, the Dark Shadow released all of my Light. Every single last bit of it. Every drop. Every spark. Every hot, little cinder. She released it all, and as she did, I felt something shift inside. Something change or click into place, it was hard to tell because Aliath was fighting.

But I thought we might just have this.

Aliath staggered. His face momentarily showed shock. And then he gritted his teeth and doubled his efforts.

I couldn’t win. Not completely. I knew that. I’d figured out that much earlier. Aliath was more than his Dark. But I could offer a good fight. I pulled on reserves I didn’t even know I had and punched out.

And then Aliath started to feed on my courage.

The Dark Shadow raged inside. She pounded on the cage that held her. She demanded I let her fully out. I almost did. She would have caused all manner of problems for Aliath. But she also would have caused all manner of problems for us.

I gathered myself and then launched into a spin; slipping the silver dagger out of my boot, registering dimly that I could touch it again without feeling pain and having my skin burn. And then I let the dagger fly. It hit a wall of fairy power, making the cave shudder and rocks fall down. And then we were outside, and Light lit up the night sky, letting anyone who wanted to know that I was here.

Damn it! I pulled my Light back immediately and leaned my hands on my knees, panting and glaring at Aliath.

He smiled smugly at me.

“That was cheating,” I growled.

“Yes,” he said. “Be thankful I had to resort to it to win this round.”

I let out a little breath, almost a laugh, and stood up. He’d admitted how close to losing he’d just been. He supposedly couldn’t lie. But still, I couldn’t trust that he hadn’t let me know that little factoid for an underhanded reason.

Never trust a fairy. I certainly didn’t.

My breathing stopped. My heartbeat ceased. I stared at him, and he stared at me.

“We’re wasting time,” he said. “Days are passing on your world. Do you wish to spend them fighting?”

“Kind of,” I said, making him smile.

“Hundr,” he murmured. “You are such a delightful surprise.”

Again with the reveals? I shook my head.

“Let’s do this,” I announced.

“Finally,” he said dryly.

“Don’t push your luck, fairy.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Ljós alone knows how long you’d delay to make your point.”

“I wasn’t delaying,” I said, heading toward what I gathered was the border between Dökkálfa and its neighbour. “I was teaching you a lesson.”

“I am over six hundred years old. What could you possibly teach me?”

“Humility?” I offered.

He stared at me. “What is that?”

I stopped walking and started laughing instead.

“You’re not joking, are you?” I finally asked.

He looked at me, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m not answering that.”

Well, fuck-a-fluffy-duck, the fairy had a sense of humour. And fighting me had set it off.

That couldn’t be a good thing.

And then I smelled it; the scent of burnt peaches on the air.

“Got them,” the Dark Shadow and I said as one.

“Let the hunt begin,” Aliath offered.

For once, I agreed with the man. Fairy. Whatever.

This was what we had been created for.

The Dark Shadow purred.

I smiled.

We hunted.

Later I’d worry about the power the fairy had over me. Later I’d worry about what he and others like him wanted. Jett for one. Gregor for another. Two very dangerous vampires. Two very worthy opponents.

For now, though, I had fairies to hunt.

Sometimes, it was good to be me.

16

Shaken

“What are you going to do with them?” I asked Aliath, staring at the last fairy spy inside the containment field.

It had taken us three days to hunt them down. Over lush fields of gold grass that tinkled as we walked through it, between tall ebony trunked trees whose canopy of leaves were lost to the clouds above us, and across glistening ice-blue rivers teeming with iridescent fish that danced and dived beneath the surface, making me want to dance and dive with them.

I was tired, hungry, and all giving-a-fuck out.

But thankfully, the call for blood was not as prevalent as it had been since Sofiq hid my Light. Whatever my Dark Shadow had done to release the last of it to me had been permanent. If I returned now to Earth’s realm, I was sure I’d feel the pull of a rogue should one be feeding indiscriminately.

“That is not your concern,” Aliath said succinctly.

I stared at the Light Fey inside the shimmering magic circle Aliath had conjured. Two were wounded, and I doubted they’d see the night through. One had his back to us and was meditating, his chiming not reaching me outside of the cell. One of the wounded was unconscious, but the last looked back at me with baleful green eyes. He wanted me dead, that much was obvious.

I couldn’t say I felt any different about him, either.

“Well,” I said, turning away from the Light Fey and addressing Aliath. “We’re more than even. Debt paid.”

Aliath smiled at me with such condescension I tasted blood on my tongue as I gnawed on my cheek, trying to stop myself from yelling back at him.

“One hunt,” he said. “We agreed to three.”

“I hunted more than three fairies, Aliath. More than our bargain.”

“You have much to learn of bargaining with the Fey, Hundr. The terms of our agreement stated use of your skills, once per month, for three months. The first month’s use of your skills is complete.”

Son of a fairy bitch. I hadn’t specified what classified as “use of my skills”. And “use of my skills” could definitely be interpreted as for the duration of a hunt for Isoleth’s spies. Spies. Plural.

Motherfucking fairy fucker.

I seethed for a few seconds, as Aliath watched me with a tilt of his head that always reminded me of a bird. I was sure he found my fury humorous. Or more likely, he found my naivety when negotiating with a member of the Fey humorous.

I shook my head. What was done was done. I’d wasted three days in Álfheimr. Nut knew how many days that was back on Earth.

“Fine,” I snapped, and the Light Fey in the circle started to laugh. My teeth ground together, and I glared at Aliath. “I hope you make it painful for them.”

The Light Fairy stopped laughing and threw himself at the invisible wall of his cell instead, shooting emerald-eyed daggers at me with such malevolence I could almost taste it.

The Dark Shadow snorted, allowing me to scent the emotion, and therefore definitely taste it.

Thanks, I said dryly.

You are welcome, she replied smugly.

I looked at Aliath.

“Until next time, Hundr,” he said, and I was somewhere else.

He hadn’t accompanied me this time, and he never bloody well asked where I wanted to end up back in my realm. So, it took a second or two for me to get my bearings. A second or two which I didn’t really have.

A sound caught my attention from behind me. I spun and came face to face with Jett.

Out of the fairy frying pan and into the vampire nest.

“Georgia,” he said, eyes glinting in the lights of Sensations during daylight hours.

We were in the bar, the scent of humans, lust, and spilt alcohol filled the air. And a good dollop of stringent ammonia. Jett was pissed at something, and by the look he was giving me, that something had just landed in his lap. Aliath might as well have gift wrapped me and put a bow on top.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi? That is all you have to say?”

“How long have I been gone this time?”

He stared at me.

“Um, what day is it, then?” I asked.

One blink. That’s all I got.

“Look,” I said. “It wasn’t my intention to go AWOL. But you’re not the only person who likes to use me.”

A low rumbling growl emitted from the back of his throat and he took one menacing step towards me.

I refused to step back, but Jett, when he was like this, all Mastered up and leaking Sanguis Vitam, was a little scary. My Dark Shadow had woken up and started prowling inside. She liked Jett. She liked his strength.

She did not like that I was scared of him.

Worthy, she said.

No, I replied.

I’d done my dash pitting Jett against Samson. If I had my way, I wouldn’t mate with either of them. But I was increasingly aware that having my way was not on the agenda. So, what’s a girl to do?

“Where’s Samson?”

Throw herself in the path of the raging bull it appears.

Jett’s eyes bled all baby blue and went straight to cyan; skipped over azure and turquoise and went right to the big guns. Sanguis Vitam thrummed in the air. I held mine in check; I wasn’t entirely sure if Jett was acting as the Master of the City or as one half of my fairy-induced amor certamen pair.

Either was a problem, but I’d wait to see what I was fighting first.

“Samson?” he said in a low, threatening voice. “Would that be the Samson you marked?”

Oh, shit. Jett had spotted my Sigillum. That meant Samson had left Wellington and returned to Auckland and hopefully given Mark an update on the Taniwha.

And probably had his head ripped off by the Master Vampyre before me when he came to Sensations to give him his report.

“Ah, yeah,” I said carefully. “That Samson.”

“You have chosen,” Jett said quietly. The quiet was at odds with the fury I saw raging behind his cyan eyes.

I let a little breath out. I could save myself a hell of a lot of trouble right here and now by saying yes. And make a hell of a lot of trouble for myself come tomorrow.

“The MPs,” I said instead. “Have they been found?”

Jett stared at me for a long moment and then nodded his head.

“They’re alive?” I asked, stunned that a resolution had been discovered without me being around to effect it.

Strangely, I felt left out.

“All survived,” Jett said. “But the perpetrators are still at large.”

“You mean the Taniwha?”

“The Taniwha are involved, that is clear. But they are not the brains behind the abductions.”

“More like doggy brawn with a side dish of shark,” I muttered.

“Indeed.”

“Then where are we?”

I meant with the case. What did Mark have planned now? Had Jett made Samson work with him to keep an eye on the Norms? What about Gregor? Had the Taniwha fled Wellington’s borders? I’d missed so much being with Aliath in Álfheimr; it was enough to make me mad at the fairy fucker all over again.

“The armor certamen is complete,” Jett said. “You have made your choice.”

One track minded bloody vampire.

“But there is more than one way to bond you with me,” he added.

What? I shook my head, brushing off Jett’s narrow-minded and senseless statements.

“If the MPs are back, I guess that means the Police no longer require my assistance.”

“Yes,” Jett agreed and moved to sit at the bar. He waved his hand, and two bottles of beer slid out of the cooler and settled next to him. He picked one up and twisted the lid, then set it before the stool at his side. He opened the other and held on to it, then flicked his eyes to me and waited.

It was clearly daylight outside, so getting out of here was going to be a problem. I could feign exhaustion and claim one of the spare chambers in the building, but showing any sort of weakness felt wrong right now.

I moved to the barstool beside Jett and took a seat; swiping up the beer and taking a sip from it. I preferred vodka mixers, but beer was OK, and right now I’d take anything that helped soothe me.

Jett took a sip of his own drink, watching me with still cyan hued eyes. I was guessing he was still vamping out about losing the amor certamen, which meant I wasn’t free of trouble yet and needed something stronger than beer to make things all right.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a material wrapped object, placing it on the bar between us.

“This is yours,” he said, taking another sip of his drink.

I reached forward, unsure if I should be wary or not, and unwrapped the object. My silver stake slipped out. With only a small hesitation, I picked it up, releasing a breath when my hand didn’t burn.

I was definitely back to being Mixed Up Georgia again.

Somehow that soothed me more than the alcohol did.

“The Master of Wellington City sends his regards,” Jett said softly.

I swallowed. That soft was just as bad as his quiet.

“That was good of him,” I murmured. “Did he say anything about the Taniwha?”

“Why do you care, Georgia? The Members of Parliament have all returned to their lives. Everything is back where it should be.”

I looked up at him then, having stared at my stake to avoid eye contact. His eyes were still cyan, but a little turquoise had seeped in. His vampire-within had calmed some. I didn’t particularly want to rile it up again, but things didn’t seem right to me. Something was still wrong.

“Why take them?” I asked. “Why go to the trouble of influencing the witnesses, take the MPs for a week or so, and then return them unharmed? Why?”

“I do not know.”

“But you suspect something,” I guessed. “You don’t become a Master of a City without being able to figure things like this out.”

Jett’s lips twitched slightly. Then he took a sip of his beer, his eyes dancing as they watched me over the bottle.

“You are right,” he said finally. “I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” I said. “I want to see one of these MPs for myself.”

“I have already done that.”

“And?” I pressed. “Was anything noticeably wrong?”

“They appeared relieved to be home. Their memories, of course, have been tampered with. They have no recollection of what happened or why.” He took another sip of his drink, placing it with care back on the bar top. “They return to Parliament tomorrow.”

I sat staring at the condensation on the outside of my bottle. It couldn’t be as simple as this. There had to be a reason why.

“What does Mark say?” I finally asked. Jett would have approached the detective; if he took the time to check on the MPs himself, he wasn’t ready to let any of this go.

“Check the MPs first,” he said. “Then follow up with the police detective.” He downed the last of his beer and chucked the bottle in the recycling bin. Then he stood up.

Jett was a big man; he towered over me. And with the cyan still present in his eyes, he looked downright formidable. But he didn’t use his bulk or power to cower me right then.

As he stepped away, I had the distinct impression that he was nursing a wound. Not a physical one. But an emotional or psychological one.

Jett Vardi rarely lost any battle he undertook. And he had just lost me to a weaker vampire.

Part of me wanted to reassure him; soothe his ache.

But the more sane part of me kept quiet and continued to drink my beer, eyes averted, Light contained.

“Night falls in two hours, Georgia,” he said, his back already to me. “I’ll send dinner to your room.”

And then he was gone.

The bar was eerily still and empty without his presence taking up too much space in it. I turned the beer bottle around and around with my fingers as it rested on the bar top and tried to identify what I was feeling.

The Dark Shadow was agitated. She did not like seeing the proud and powerful vampire so affected.

It could be an act, I told her.

I scented dismay.

But that wasn’t all you scented, was it?

No, she reluctantly admitted.

I knew she still favoured Jett as a mate, even if I had marked Samson. There was something she saw in the Master of Auckland City, something worthy. But the Dark Shadow was not one to lie to herself, either.

Strong rosemary and garlic, she said. Determination.

“Great,” I muttered, downing the last of the beer. Just what the hell did Jett think he could go after if he couldn’t go after me as his mate?

A hell of a lot, I realised, as I chucked the bottle into the bin, making it clink against Jett’s. There was his line. And if he was still under the fairy’s influence, then that desire to have me join his line needed to go somewhere. The armor certamen might have been over, but Aliath’s influence was not.

That was our agreement. I got a reprieve from the Master of Auckland City trying to kill me, tell the Iunctio about me, or force me to join his line for three months. Aliath got three uses of my talents over those three months. But Aliath was a cunning trickster and so simply removing Jett’s desires completely wasn’t part of the Fey Prince’s plan.

Small print, I thought. What loophole could the fairy have left?

I stomped out of the bar room and headed toward the chamber I’d used last time I was here. I thought perhaps it was becoming my room because when I opened it, a black duvet covered the bed with a red throw artfully arranged across the end of it. On the walls was an assortment of modern art. It wasn’t my art, but it might as well have been.

Jett had been to my home; he knew how I had it decorated. He’d replicated the look for me here.

In other circumstance, I might have thought the move nice. But this was Jett Vardi we were talking about. He had ulterior motives.

But what they were now, I just didn’t know.

I sat down on the bed and waited for dinner to arrive.

It was the same girl as last time.

“Hey, Sandy,” I said when she walked in.

“Hello, Mistress,” she replied. Jett had trained her well.

“How are you?” I asked; somehow diving straight into biting her wrist and not making small talk seemed wrong.

“I am in good health. Are you hungry? Shall we begin?”

I guessed she had places to be and people other than me to see.

“Sure,” I said, waving her over.

She knelt before me and offered her wrist. Either she could read minds, or she was extremely good at picking up on a vampire’s demeanour. I didn’t feel like the intimacy of feeding from a neck. I licked the skin, anaesthetising it for the upcoming pain, and then bit. Even the Dark Shadow didn’t feel compelled to eat more than Sandy was offering.

Not polite, she told me.

I smirked. Vampires-within had manners, then.

There were rules to this world that I still didn’t know about. Probably rules about feeding from a Master’s stable. I trusted my Dark Shadow to work within them. Somehow she’d earned that trust over the past few months of being with me.

“What date is it?” I asked my donor.

“Monday the sixteenth,” she replied, dreamily. I’d infused my bite with a little bliss.

“November?” I checked.

“Yes,” she said, smiling.

I’d been gone another week. That meant the MPs had been missing for less than a fortnight. What could be done in a fortnight? Too much, I thought, licking Sandy’s wound closed again.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You are welcome, Mistress.”

She stood up without any help from me and left the room. I checked the clock, but I didn’t need to know that the sun was about to set. I took a quick shower, changed into a spare set of clothes that looked suspiciously like mine, right down to the kitschy necklace, and then left the room.

The night beckoned, and I had work to do.

Sensations had already opened by the time I walked onto the main bar room floor. Doug wasn’t behind the bar yet; it was still a few minutes too early for vampires. But the new human barmaid was. What was her name again? Carli.

I walked up to the bar, wending my way through the already surprisingly busy crowd, and slipped onto a bar stool. Not the same one I’d been on before; a heavy set male was sitting there already. I signalled for a drink, and Carli delivered a Vanilla Vodka.

“You’re early,” she said with a smile.

I wanted to tell her to run. I wanted to tell her she was in danger working here. I wanted to tell her that the world was not as she knew it. But I couldn’t. It was a rule I understood now, even if I had failed to understand that Samson had been chained by the very same rule as I now was.

I smiled back and said, “Places to be.”

“People to see,” she finished for me and went off to serve another customer.

She was all right, I thought. For a human. Kara would like her.

I checked my phone, but my BFF hadn’t left any messages. Samson had though. Several. One a day for the past week.

Call me when you get back.

I almost did it, but the sun chose that moment to set.

I downed my mixer and nodded to Carli, and then stepped out into the night.

It was the work of a moment to bring the shadows to me, to wrap them around my body and hide from Norm sight. I was pretty sure, I was hidden from everybody’s sight; human or supernatural. But tonight, I needed to be hidden from the Norms. From one in particular.

I chose the MP who had the girlfriend. Mark hadn’t rescinded the invitation into her house; although being back to Mixed Up Georgia meant an invitation was no longer needed. I flashed there, anyway, using a small amount of Sanguis Vitam. My Dark Shadow was alert, welcoming the night. Eager for the hunt.

It wasn’t much of one. The MP was with his girl. I slipped through an open window and followed the sounds of their lovemaking to the bedroom. The same room that he had been abducted from once already. The girl’s wrists were padlocked to the bedhead; her face pressed into the pillow as the MP got his rocks off, pounding into her arse.

I screwed up my nose, and as I did, I smelled it.

Ozone and peaches. Wet dog. And something else.

I backed out of the room and sat down on the couch, trying to deny what I’d scented even as the Dark Shadow told me that scents don’t lie.

“A fairy, a shapeshifter and a vampire walk into a bar,” I muttered, just as the MP shouted his release to the heavens and his mistress joined in with a high pitched squeal of faked delight.

Not the way I wanted to find out my Sire still existed.

Fuck. I hadn’t killed him. And he was sending me another message.

I just didn’t speak Rogue.

17

Lust

If my Sire was still alive and kicking, then this just got a whole lot more personal.

Jett had instructed me to check on the MPs and then touch base with Mark. But there wasn’t much Mark could add to what I’d already found. And what I’d already found was shocking.

The closest I had come to the final death was at the hands of my Sire. He had killed the human in me when this all began.

I wasn’t afraid of him as such. I was afraid of the connection between us.

Xavier was my Sire, despite the fact that he was rogue. Despite the fact that he hadn’t successfully turned me. He was…sick and powerful; an unbelievably dangerous combination. And he wanted me. Just like Jett wanted me, and Gregor wanted me, and Aliath wanted me.

But Xavier would go to any length to get what he wanted.

The first phone call I made was to Kara. I had her booked on a flight to the Gold Coast before I’d even reached St Heliers Bay. The second phone call was to Mark. Even if there was nothing new he could tell me about the MPs abductions, I wanted him to know I was back.

If my Sire approached the detective, Mark would know I had his back.

Not in so many words, but I think he got the drift.

By the time those calls were over, I was standing on Samson’s doorstep.

It said a lot about how discombobulated I was about the return of my Sire. It said a lot about how far I’d come since I’d been turned, died, and saved.

It said a lot.

“Georgia,” Samson purred in his deep, seductive voice when he opened the door to me.

My eyes were drawn to my Sigillum on his neck immediately. My fangs descended and the need to mark him again, to bite him where I had marked him already, was all-consuming.

He grinned down at me.

“Come in, babe,” he said, pulling the door open and stepping aside.

I walked in without argument, which wiped the smile right off his face.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t mention the length of time I’d been gone in Álfheimr. He cut right to the chase.

I stopped in the middle of his lounge; the shutters up for the night, showing a picturesque scene of the Hauraki Gulf. I tore my gaze from the view and looked him in the eye.

“He’s back,” I said.

“Who’s back?”

“My Sire.”

Samson was beside me in the next heartbeat. His arms around me before my heart had managed one more. He held me close, breathed into my hair, and said, “It’ll be all right.”

“He’s behind the MPs’ disappearances,” I said, my voice muffled where I had buried my nose in his chest, inhaling his scent.

I wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that he wore my Sigillum that made it easier to be so vulnerable. Or whether it was the fact that I had finally accepted that I still loved Samson and that he hadn’t had any choice but to keep things from me before I’d been turned.

I wasn’t sure which revelation shocked me the most, but Samson just held me tighter, making it impossible to pull away when I would have chosen to run and hide.

“That explains a few things,” he said, stroking my back.

I lifted my face to look up at him, noting the small smattering of stubble on his chin. I’d caught him before he’d readied himself for a night at Sensations. Somehow this Samson was more personal. Somehow this Samson was my Samson and no one else’s.

Mate, the Dark Shadow said, and there was an edge of finality in her words.

I didn’t say anything back. But I also didn’t argue with her.

“What do you mean?” I asked Samson.

“Why take the MPs in Auckland?” he said. “The Taniwha reside in Wellington. If the MPs in question are the key, then why not take them when they attended Parliament? If they’re not the key, then why pick MPs in Auckland?”

“Me,” I said.

“Yes. He’s sending a message.”

Samson pulled back and looked down at me, and then he cupped my cheeks with his hands and leaned down and kissed me. I hadn’t expected it; that’s why it took me off guard. That’s what I told myself anyway.

The Dark Shadow just laughed.

We separated a moment later as if he sensed I was about to run. It always felt like I was about to run when I was around Samson, and yet I ran to him as soon as I knew my Sire was not dead.

I was so mixed up.

I pulled away and paced to the other side of the room, stopping by the empty fireplace and staring at Samson in the mirror that hung above it.

He watched me. He looked good enough to eat.

Mate, my Dark Shadow said.

Shut up.

“What do you plan to do?” Samson asked.

“Mark said the case is practically closed,” I told him. Mark had given me a rundown over the phone, brief as it had been. “Although, I think he suspects something. Another shoe to drop at the very least.”

“He has questions.”

“So does Jett.”

Samson’s lips stretched into a self-satisfied smile.

“You’ve seen Jett?” he asked.

“Aliath dropped me off at Sensations.”

“The fairy likes playing games.”

“I’m not a pawn.”

“No, you’re the queen.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He grinned back.

“Jett,” he reminded me.

I sighed. “The amor certamen is over.”

“Hallelujah,” he said wryly.

“I’m not mating you,” I snapped.

“The mark does not mean we are mated.” It wasn’t an argument, but it felt like one.

Samson smiled and crossed to the drinks cabinet.

“Let’s toast the end of discord between the Master of Auckland City and us,” he said.

“The Master of Auckland City and you, you mean.”

“Semantics.”

“It’s not.”

He handed me a glass of whisky. I screwed my nose up at it.

“All the best toasts are made with single malt, love.”

“I would have thought you’d go for gin.” Being English and all.

“What? That swill? Never!”

He clinked his glass against mine and raised it up.

“To the winner.”

I whacked him on the arm.

Samson laughed and downed his whisky. I hesitated and then decided a whisky was a whisky and downed my own glass.

He reached out and cupped my jaw, stroking a thumb across my cheek affectionately.

“I want you,” he husked.

“Samson,” I said because it was what I always said. And then I did what came next in my repertoire of distractions; I changed the topic. “I need to go back to Wellington. My Sire will be waiting for me there.”

Samson lowered his hand from my face and sighed; then he took our glasses and placed them carefully on the cabinet as he formulated his reply.

“It’s exactly what he wants,” he finally said.

“So, because of that, I should ignore the threat?”

“Is it a threat? Or is he just toying with you?”

“Either way, I want it to stop. I want him to stop. He’s a rogue, Samson. It’s a miracle all the MPs survived.”

Samson cocked his head to the side and said, “Why? Why did he let them live?”

I shook my head. I didn’t have time for this. Rogues barely made sense as it was.

“Are you going to come with me or not?” I asked.

He was on me in the next heartbeat. His lips crushed against mine before I could catch my breath. Not that either was necessary, but he still caught me by surprise.

I made a mumbled sound against his mouth, but he only kissed me harder. His hands began to roam, and when one found my butt cheek, I pushed against his chest. He pulled back, grinning down at me like the lunatic he clearly was.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded.

“You love me,” he said.

“Because I want you to come to Wellington with me?” I shouted. Idiot.

“Because you’re entering into a dangerous situation and you would have no other at your back.”

“That’s trust,” I yelled at him. “Not love.”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

He spun away and headed toward the stairs and his bedroom.

I stared after him and shook my head in disgust.

He was crazy. He was certifiable.

He’s getting naked, the Dark Shadow said and pushed me up the stairs after the stupid vampire.

He’d left his door open. I paused on the landing, my goal in sight. My Dark Shadow laughed at me and called me a coward. I strode into his room and found him getting out a clean shirt. His chest was bare. His muscles rippled in the light. He looked over his shoulder and then removed his pants; standing before me as naked as the day he was born.

“I won’t be long,” he said, taking his sweet, sweet time.

He put deodorant on first. Then some cologne. All naked. All muscles rippling in the light. He brushed a hand through his hair, then ran a palm over his stubble.

“Should I shave?” he asked as if he were asking about the weather.

Is it warm out, Georgia? Do I need to put on a shirt?

“No,” I said.

“You like the stubble?”

I like you naked.

“Yes.”

“You haven’t even touched it. Maybe I should shave it off before we depart. One should be well presented when visiting another vampire’s city.”

I stepped forward and reached up to run my fingers along the edge of his jaw. He stilled and let me, a twinkle in his eye.

“This doesn’t mean I want to be your mate,” I said.

“Not at all,” he said and reached out to slip my jacket off.

I let him. When he smiled, I caught the glint of his fangs. My shirt followed. My jeans were next. My stake rolled out of my jacket when it fell off the edge of the bed. Samson glanced down at it and then raised an eyebrow at me.

I didn’t answer his silent question; I pounced.

Hunt, the Dark Shadow said.

Caught him, I replied.

Good hunt, she murmured.

Be quiet.

He kissed me slowly. As if we had all the time in the world. We didn’t. My Sire awaited. Jett wanted a report. Gregor would have to be placated. The MPs would be back in Wellington tomorrow, and something about that made me anxious.

“Shhh,” Samson said, kissing the side of my face, across my jaw, and down my neck. “Don’t think. Just feel. Inhale.”

I breathed in and landed in the soft clouds of Samson’s scent. Pine needles and musk surrounded me, protected me, wrapped around me. Then more scents invade my nose. Sweet passionfruit. Cotton candy and caramel popcorn. Indulgent chocolate mud cake. Smooth and dry merlot, laced with a floral bouquet.

He desired me. He was happy. He lusted for me. He was feeling satisfied.

Satisfied?

I pulled back.

Samson groaned.

“You planned this?” I demanded. “This…this…”

“Seduction? Yes.”

I shoved him away from me.

“Tell me you don’t feel all of the same things as you scent on me,” he said.

“I don’t feel satisfied!” I snapped back.

“Does your Dark Shadow?”

Damn him. I tried not to, but she wasn’t making it easy for me. She let me feel her satisfaction that I had chosen a mate.

“But I haven’t!” I shouted, making Samson’s eyebrows rise again.

Mate, she said and mentally presented every decision I’d made that led me to Samson’s door.

We’d taken a long and winding road to get here, but there was no denying that we were here now.

“I don’t want a mate,” I said, almost whining.

“Then we don’t mate,” he said. “Yet. But, Gigi,” he added, “let me love you. Come back to me, babe. It won’t be the same; nothing ever could be. Not after what you’ve been through. What we both have. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real. That’s it not right. It is. This feels right. Doesn’t it? It feels right, Gigi, because we are right for each other.”

I glowered at him, arms crossed over bare breasts, eyes narrowed.

Then I huffed out a breath.

“Your funeral,” I said.

He threw his head back and laughed, and then he pulled me in, moving us to the bed, and just held me. Somehow, the lack of sex made the gesture more profound.

A few minutes later, having almost fallen asleep in his arms, my cellphone chirped.

Samson reached over the side of the bed and picked it up, handing the device to me without glancing at the screen.

I swiped it open and read the message.

Playtime was over.

“An MP in Wellington has gone missing,” I said.

“You didn’t react fast enough,” Samson murmured, sitting up.

I frowned at him. He was the one who distracted me with his sexy, naked, rippling body.

He glanced back, just as he picked up his jeans from the floor. “What?”

“I’m doing the best that I can,” I growled, moving to get off the bed.

Samson stepped in front of me. Still naked. Still rippling muscles. Still…no. Not sexy. I scowled.

“Babe,” he said, tipping my chin up with a finger gently placed on it. “Your Sire wanted a reaction. You didn’t give him one, and so he’s moved on to the next phase in his plans. It’s not your fault. You’ve been in Álfheimr for the past week. He doesn’t know about Aliath, or he would have accounted for your absence. He thinks you’re above him, that’s why you haven’t hunted him yet; so he’s trying to bring you down to his level.”

“By taking another MP?”

“By bringing in the Master of Wellington City, who happens to also be the Enforcer for the Iunctio.”

“He thinks I’ll come running because I’m scared.”

“Yes. Because he would be scared if he were in your shoes.”

“He’s rogue.”

“And powerful. That power came from somewhere. Who was he before he lost control of his vampire? Someone, I’d wager, influential.”

I didn’t know. I only knew his name was Xavier. But that could have been an alias. I had no way of knowing who my Sire was before he became batshit crazy.

I sighed. “You’re right. But that still doesn’t mean I won’t hunt him down like the rabid dog that he is.”

“Talking of dogs,” Samson said, starting to dress.

For a second, I lamented the fact that we hadn’t taken advantage of our naked bodies.

Samson kept talking as if he wasn’t still sporting a massive hard-on.

“Xavier has control of the Taniwha. That is no small task.”

And that was one large erection.

“Georgia?”

“Hmmm.”

“If you keep staring at it, it’ll take it as a challenge.”

“What?” I said, frowning up at him.

He twisted his hips, making his cock sway before my eyes.

“I feel like there should be a little, crosslegged man in the corner playing snake charming music on his flute,” I said dryly.

“Are you calling my dick a snake?”

“Something like that,” I muttered.

I stood up and reached for my jeans, but Samson wrapped his arms around my body and hauled me against him. He kissed the side of my neck, licked across the pulse there, and whispered, “I want nothing more than to lose myself in your body, but if we start, I may not be able to stop until nightfall.”

“It’s already nightfall,” I pointed out breathlessly.

“Tomorrow’s nightfall,” he corrected and nipped my skin with his teeth.

I moaned softly, tilting my head to the side like the wanton blood whore that I apparently was.

“Babe,” he murmured. “Are you offering your vein?”

Was I? Why was I?

Mate, the Dark Shadow said and extended my neck for Samson’s perusal.

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t me, that it was her. But admitting I didn’t have full control over my vampire-within seemed like a bad idea. Plus there was the whole bit about that statement being a lie. I did want this. I did want his bite. But for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I wanted it now when time was not on our side.

“Yes,” I said.

Samson growled out a possessive sound and then his fangs parted skin. He pulled me closer, held me tightly, infused his bite with love and lust and desire and hunger. He drank me down as if I were a fine wine. His hips jerked, making his cock press up against my side.

I reached down and wrapped a hand around its circumference.

And then I lost myself as I stroked him and he drank from me, and the scents that wafted on the air made it damn near impossible to function.

He came as he withdrew his fangs. A shout of surprise and release mixed up into one. He panted slightly as he licked the wound closed, and then he lowered his forehead to my shoulder and just held me; his body shaking ever so slightly.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “Fuck,” he said again, clearly unable to say another word. Then he proved me wrong by adding, “You’re all dirty.”

“Very dirty,” I said, and he snorted.

“If you got any dirtier, we’d never be able to leave the house.”

“You’d be too busy cleaning me up?” I asked with faux innocence.

He growled at me and then snapped his teeth as I slipped out of his hold and headed toward the shower.

“Georgia,” Samson said with a frustrated groan.

“Won’t be a minute,” I called back.

Wellington would still be there by the time the jet landed. My Sire would still be waiting.

If that wasn’t enough to cool the jets, I didn’t know what would have been.

And then Samson slipped into the shower behind me.

“Your turn,” he said, displaying his neck for me to devour.

Of course, he displayed the side that showed off my Sigillum the best. The side that called to me.

“This has to stop,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and burying my face above my mark.

“Why?”

“This isn’t me,” I said in answer and bit.

“No,” he murmured, wrapping my legs around his hips as I drank him down.

He pressed me into the shower wall, and as the water came down all around us and the steam rose up to kiss us, he sank his thick cock deep inside.

I moaned.

He groaned.

And then he started to rock.

I came as my fangs slid out from above my mark. He shouted his release not long afterwards. The shower sprayed down all around us as we caught our breaths and he whispered in my ear, “Mate. This is mating. It has begun.”

It has begun, he said, but it sounded more like, God help us.

18

Trapped

Did this mean our vampires had made the decision for us? The Dark Shadow and Black Dog finally taking the lust and love that we still felt for each other as a sign that we wanted more?

I knew Samson wanted more. I knew my Dark Shadow did. I assumed the Black Dog was the same; Samson’s vampire-within would have fought him otherwise.

But I wasn’t sure if this was what I wanted.

Sure, I wanted sex. I wanted hot and sweaty, dirty and possibly even debauched. But not debauched like the MP and his girlfriend earlier tonight.

I shook my head. The shower still sprayed down. Samson still held me as if he was frightened I’d run, and by running, I’d doom him to a fate worse than death.

I didn’t know enough about vampire mating. I didn’t know enough about anything, I realised.

Shit.

Why did Lucinda have to move away?

I muttered a few choice swearwords inside my head and reached up and ran my fingers through Samson’s hair.

“Hey,” I said. He clung harder. “It’s OK,” I whispered, my words almost drowned out by the shower spray. “It’s all right.”

“You didn’t want this,” he said into my neck where his face was buried. “I’m sorry.”

“So, it’s a done deal, then,” I murmured. But he heard me.

“All but the actual deed,” Samson confirmed.

“And what is the actual deed?”

He pulled back and looked down at me. “Sex. My vampire-within claiming you as his mate. A sharing of blood.”

“Haven’t we already done that?”

He shook his head and then brushed his wet hair off his face. He looked shattered. Not like a man who had got his own way. That was Samson, I realised. He was capable of great feats of compassion in a world that seemed filled with Darkness.

He wanted me as his mate. But he wanted me to want it, too.

“It’s the way it’s done.”

He slanted me a look and offered a small smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, which I noted were completely chocolate; his Black Dog had retreated, letting us come to terms with what was going to happen.

“I’d have to take you from behind,” Samson announced, and didn’t that set up a movie reel inside my mind? “My vampire would bite into your neck.” He lifted a finger and laid it on the skin above my fluttering pulse on the side of my neck. “You would feed from my wrist, where it would be wrapped around your chest. My other hand would hold you securely to me.”

His eyes glinted on that last sentence and darted down to my breasts.

OK. “So, we avoid that position,” I said.

“Georgia,” he murmured, stroking a finger down my cheek and cupping my jaw, “once we start to get…intimate, nothing will stop my vampire-within from claiming you as his mate.”

I stared at him.

“And your vampire-within,” he added, “will be compelled to submit to him for claiming.”

Is that true? I asked the Dark Shadow. I couldn’t see her as the submitting type. My vampire-within was badass.

Yes, she said but didn’t elaborate.

You’re OK with this? I demanded.

Mate, she said and retreated.

“What did she say?” Samson asked.

“How did you know she..?”

“Your eyes changed colour. I saw her watching me.”

And that wasn’t freaky at all. I could tell when others’ vampires-within peeked out; I just hadn’t thought about mine doing the same and someone recognising her.

“What did she say?” Samson repeated.

I reached up and ran my hands through my hair and then gripped the strands and tugged hard.

“I see,” Samson said. “Well, we can always avoid physical contact altogether.”

He did not sound happy about that in the slightest.

“Would that work?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Samson smiled at me, his hand already reaching to touch my face. He stopped midway, hand hovering in the air between us. And then lowered it.

“We can try,” he offered.

I sighed and stepped out of the shower.

“Maybe you should stay behind in Auckland,” I suggested.

“Not a chance,” he growled, and gone was the compassion. In its place was just a pissed off vampire.

“We’ll be too busy to get all hot and heavy, anyway,” I said; I didn’t really want him to stay behind. And wasn’t that a revelation?

Whether that was the new Georgia speaking or the new mate induced attraction between us, I couldn’t say.

Samson turned the shower off and began to towel down. It took a second for me to realise I was watching him and almost salivating. I turned around and gave him my back. And then walked out of the bathroom completely, because the urge to look back was too much.

He followed me into the bedroom a few seconds later, towel firmly wrapped around his waist.

I dressed, using some of his deodorant, and then walked downstairs to wait in the lounge. I was rather proud of myself for that until I realised I was sniffing my armpit trying to scent Samson.

I tipped my head back, eyes closed, and growled.

“I’ve advised the pilots,” Samson said suddenly from the doorway, breaking into my mini-meltdown. “They’ll be ready by the time we get to the airport. Have you told Jett?”

“No,” I said, glad we’d switched to business matters. “If I tell him, he’ll send someone with us.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“The more people who know Xavier is my Sire, the worse it’ll be.”

Samson just nodded his head and then picked up a leather jacket and pulled it on.

“Ready?” he asked, once he’d located his car keys.

I nodded and followed him into the garage. This time we took the BMW, not the Land Rover. I gathered it was Lucinda’s car, but Samson drove it as if he stole it, and hadn’t just borrowed it from his Mistress. We made good time to the airport, neither of us saying a thing. Probably because of the close quarters and the constant effort it took not to reach out and touch one another. I spent a good portion of the journey staring at Samson’s thigh. At the way the material of his jeans stretched over the muscle. At the long length of his leg as it lay just within reach.

“Will this go away if we ignore it?” I asked as the hangar came into view.

“No,” Samson said, understanding my oblique conversation starter. “It might get worse.”

Great.

Mate, the Dark Shadow said.

Go to hell, I spat back.

You chose. Not I.

Damn.

Samson pulled the BMW into the hangar itself, parking it up near a private jet that looked different from the last one.

“Whose plane is this?” I asked.

“Part of the fleet the company uses.”

“What company?”

“Jett’s.”

“So, he’ll know we’ve taken it?”

Samson offered me a tight smile. I took that as a yes. Maybe I should have warned the Master of Auckland City before nabbing one of his private jets. And who has more than one private jet, anyway?

“He rents them out,” Samson said as if he read my mind.

I rolled my head on my shoulders and walked up the steps to the jet. The pilots greeted us from the cockpit, and Samson shut the door. Like he’d done the last time. I half expected Jett to appear on the tarmac as we taxied out, but if he knew, he was giving me some leeway. Or allowing me a false sense of security.

Thinking of Jett made me think of Gregor.

“Does Gregor know we’re coming?” I asked.

“He will expect it.”

“Don’t you think we should let him know, anyway?”

“Do you want to call him? I sure as hell don’t.”

“Coward,” I muttered under my breath.

Samson offered me his signature smile; all straight white teeth and square-jawed pretty. No, I thought, he wasn’t pretty. He was stunning.

I looked away but only lasted a minute or so before I found myself looking back at him.

Samson watched me from his side of the plane. We took off. No one moved. The tension increased. I silently willed him to look away. I loudly begged myself in my head to do the same. Neither of us moved an inch.

I’m not sure how we managed it, but somehow we didn’t shift positions for the entire flight to Wellington. We barely breathed. But not breathing, meant not inhaling each other’s scent.

Fuck. This was bad.

The jet landed, and the pilots told us a car from the Master of Wellington City was waiting in the hangar. That broke the spell, and we both scowled, unbuckling our belts so we’d be ready to face whatever Gregor threw at us.

I patted my stake in my jacket pocket. The fact that he’d returned it to me had to mean something.

The fact that he’d had an MP abducted after he’d done that might cancel out any goodwill we had between us.

He was still the Enforcer for the Iunctio. I couldn’t forget that.

The plane came to a stop inside Michel’s hangar, and we disembarked. A different vampire than the one who had driven us up into the Rimutakas stood beside the long, black limousine. I was pretty sure the other one was dead. Dead dead. But I could have been wrong.

I realised as I got into the vehicle that I hadn’t asked Samson about what had happened after I’d been whisked off to Álfheimr. Clearly, he and Gregor had got out alive, but what about the shapeshifters?

“What happened up in the ranges?” I asked as the car smoothly pulled out of the airport and headed toward the CBD.

“I woke up inside the car and Gregor’s vampires were everywhere. He was issuing orders and snapping at everyone. And not a Taniwha was in sight.”

Pretty much what I would have expected.

I nodded my head and looked out of the window at the harbour.

“If Gregor attacks,” Samson said quietly, “I won’t be able to stop my vampire-within from defending you.”

I glanced back at him.

“If anyone attacks,” he amended. “He is strong, Georgia.”

I nodded my head slowly, not sure what to say to that.

“The Dark Shadow is strong, too,” I whispered.

“I know,” he said and reached for my hand. It was a simple movement. An unconscious one. And he gripped my hand, fingers laced before either of us realised what we had allowed to happen.

A jolt of electricity swept through me. A low hum started in the back of my head. The car disappeared. Wellington disappeared. I looked into Samson’s cinnamon and taupe eyes and lost several minutes.

It wasn’t until the door opened at my side, the driver already having exited the vehicle, that I was able to look away and detach myself from Samson’s body.

My hand tingled as I slid out of the car. A part of me left behind until Samson stepped up to my side and let his heat engulf me. He didn’t reach for me again, so it wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it was enough.

We had a Master vampire to meet, and we both needed to be in charge of our faculties.

The door opened, and we stepped through to the darkened interior. Light farther ahead let us know that Gregor was waiting. The powerful swell of Sanguis Vitam that greeted us let us know the Enforcer was.

Being here was the last place I wanted to be. Telling this powerful creature that it was my Sire who was abducting the MPs was the last thing I wanted to do. But letting this disaster go on and more Norms become his prey was the most important thing.

I had to swallow my pride and do what was right. If I didn’t, I would no longer be able to look at myself in the mirror. I would not be worthy of Samson.

Where the hell that thought had come from, I didn’t know. And I didn’t have time to think about it, because we’d stepped into the main clubroom of Desire de Sang.

It wasn’t empty. But it wasn’t full of Norm patrons either. Vampires dotted the tables off to the side. Various levels of Sanguis Vitam and Dark swept out to greet us. There was a vampire in the corner who wanted to hunt, and he didn’t care who he hunted or how he accomplished it. The pull told me he was about to go rogue. I wondered if Gregor knew that and had him here as a wild card, trying to make me do something that would publicly announce what I was.

And then I wondered where Amisi was, surely she felt the pull too.

Samson and I walked to the centre of the room, facing Gregor, and bowed low, hand fisted over chest.

“Master of the City,” Samson said. “We are honoured to be in Wellington.”

“Uninvited.” It was short and sweet and full of venom.

I straightened up. Samson didn’t. But us being here was not what had Gregor’s fangs in a knot.

“Any more gone missing?” I asked.

Never let it be said that Georgia Deverell can’t cut to the chase like a boss.

Gregor studied me and then flicked his fingers, and Samson shot upright. Samson turned slightly so he could stare at me, a strange look crossing his face. I shrugged. What was that all about?

The Master had been using his influence to keep us bowing, the Dark Shadow said.

You broke it?

It didn’t touch us.

Why?

She didn’t answer, which meant she didn’t know.

“Two more,” Gregor said into the strained silence. Two more MPs missing.

I nodded my head. “Any sign of the Taniwha?”

“We have not been able to locate them.”

That hurt. That admission cost him a lot, and he did not like it. I endeavoured to smooth his ruffled cape with a question he might be able to answer positively.

“What connection have you found between the MPs?”

Gregor smiled. It almost reached his eyes. Which were more platinum than grey right now.

“Two Labour Party members and one National,” he said. Similar to in Auckland. “They have agreed on some policies in the past, but mainly are at opposing ends of the political spectrum. Currently, there is no evidence that they are collaborating on any movements within Parliament.”

In other words, no link.

“My turn,” he said, stepping closer.

I held my ground, but only because Samson looked like he couldn’t move or breathe. Whatever the Enforcer was doing, it was working on Samson. I knew I could reach my stake and make a show of defending us both. But I wouldn’t until I absolutely had to. Pissing off the Enforcer was not my go-to MO.

“What do you know about the creature behind this?” Gregor asked, coming within staking distance.

I was sure he did that on purpose; he wanted me to pull my stake and make a good show for all the vampires watching.

If he exposed my secrets, I would be at a severe disadvantage. Some of the vampires in here were old. Old and powerful.

I had other secrets of course that I didn’t want out in the open. But I had to give him something.

“Were the witnesses’ memories erased?” I asked. He nodded. “Fairy induced psychosis,” I said, sounding like I knew what I was talking about.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I smelled ozone at the girlfriend’s house. The ozone I smell when Aliath uses a portal to get to me.

“Interesting.” Gregor began to pace. The vampire in the corner started to drool. No one paid him any attention. It was as if they couldn’t even see him.

I flicked my eyes towards the Master of Wellington City and then looked back at the rogue, willing Gregor to see what I was seeing. He ignored me. But I was certain he’d understood what I was trying to say with that move.

“You believe it is a fairy who is behind the abductions?” Gregor asked.

“A fairy is involved,” I said, being careful not to give too much away.

“That is not what I asked.”

The rogue shifted, moving forward until his weight settled on the balls of his feet; ready to pounce.

A human walked in. Panic swamped me. The pull set alarm bells off inside my head. She carried a tray full of glasses of red wine. Or it could have been blood; I was too busy fighting the urge to draw my stake.

She walked the perimeter of the clubroom, offering up glasses to each of the vampires as she passed them. She got closer and closer to the rogue, who was only remaining where he was because he sensed what I was.

A Nosferatin’s Light calls to the Dark in them. The Darker he became, the more of my Light he saw. The more he was drawn to me and not the human.

It wouldn’t be enough to stop him. But it was enough for him to know at that moment that I was a threat.

“Don’t do it,” I whispered.

Samson made a sound at my side. I didn’t spare him a glance; Gregor had him securely bound.

“What was that?” Gregor asked.

“Don’t do this,” I said more loudly. This time the words were directed at Gregor himself.

“Do what, vampire?” he asked.

I looked around the clubroom at the vampires present. I didn’t know them. I didn’t know a single one of them. Not even the vampires in Auckland City knew what I was. This was unfair. This was uncalled for. But life is rarely ever fair. And Gregor Morel was the Enforcer for the Iunctio.

For some reason, he felt this show was necessary.

I looked at the human woman who was making steady progress towards the corner where the rogue waited. Like a spider watching a fly approach its web.

I could do nothing. It would hurt. Nut would wail. But I would be safe. I would live.

Survive at all costs, the Dark Shadow said.

Yes. I could survive at all costs. And I would lose a little of myself.

I looked back at Gregor.

He smiled. He knew I couldn’t do nothing.

I glared at him. His smile widened, flashing fang.

The woman stopped before a vampire, within feet of the rogue. She had one glass of wine left on her tray; it had been planned meticulously.

Fuck.

I sucked in a breath of air, my hands fisted.

The human tossed her hair at a flirting vampire.

Her scent wafted on the air. Even from here, I could smell the purity of her blood.

The rogue lifted his face and inhaled. Red swept over his hooded eyes. He licked his lips.

The human moved.

The rogue pounced.

19

Worry

I’d started forward before I realised that everyone in the room had stopped.

The rogue. The human. The vampires. Gregor.

I spun around and took in their statue-like appearance and then my eyes landed on Samson.

His eyes were a mix of grey and black; a charcoal colour I had only ever seen once before.

“What are you doing?” I asked stepping up to him. Sweat had started to bead on his brow. He looked at me and then flicked his eyes to the rogue.

Clearly, he still couldn’t talk. Couldn’t move. Whatever Gregor had done was still working, even though Samson had changed reality for everyone in the room.

“Oh, Samson,” I whispered. When he used this talent, he became Darker. He lost some of Lucinda’s Light.

It was a Dark talent. A forbidden talent. One he had kept to himself. He’d told me because he said I would understand. The call to use the Darkness within. I did. Like me, he fought it daily. More often than not he won. But now this.

Could he fight such Darkness if he willingly let the Dark in?

His eyes darted to the rogue again; his skin was moist with sweat. He looked pale.

He couldn’t hold this for long.

I spun around and flashed to the rogue, then staked him before Samson passed out.

I was back by my mate’s side before the dust had settled and Samson had released his talent into the night.

The vampires all moved; barely perceptible changes to their positions. But enough to know they were under their own power again. I had no idea what Samson had made them think was happening, but whatever it was, they didn’t seem upset by it. Until Gregor noticed the rogue was gone.

He looked at the corner of the room where the rogue had been and then looked back at where I was standing.

He knew I’d staked him. The dust was still there after all. But the others hadn’t seen me move and didn’t know I could handle silver. At least, not yet. I waited for the Master of Wellington City to approach and pull the offending article out of my jacket’s pocket. But he just studied me, his eyes glowing that platinum and silver colour, his fangs visible between his slightly parted lips.

And then Amisi walked in.

I almost wept with relief at seeing the Nosferatin. I didn’t know her well. I hardly knew her at all, but the Light she brought with her made it suddenly easier to breathe.

She looked first at Gregor as if she couldn’t help herself, and then she did a Nosferatin quick sweep of the room. Her eyes lingered on the dust in the corner briefly, and then they settled on Samson.

I stepped in front of my mate. Blocking him from her view.

Her almond shaped eyes met mine.

She did a double take.

She took a step toward me.

Gregor stepped between her and me, blocking her view.

“Ma ange,” he said in his French accent. It was smooth and sexy. I hated it. “I thought you were busy with Lucinda.”

“I sent her back to London when I felt the pull.”

He winced. I was stuck on Lucinda being in New Zealand and not letting Samson - or me - know.

Amisi stepped around Gregor and looked at Samson. Gregor moved to intercept her again. She raised a long-fingered hand, palm out, and said, “Don’t.”

Gregor Morel, Master of Wellington City, the Iunctio’s boogeyman did as she asked. He didn’t move a muscle.

“Samson,” she said, her voice soft and careful. “Samson,” she said again, slowly approaching. “Oh,” she said, as she took in more of his Dark. “No.” She shook her head. “Lucinda’s heart will be broken.”

I stepped between them as soon as she mentioned Lucinda.

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” I snarled.

“Stand down,” Gregor warned in an equally as loud growl.

Amisi didn’t even blink.

“Easy, sister,” she murmured. “I mean him no harm.”

She walked closer, and it was all I could do not to stop her. Not to step between her and her goal. Not to grab Samson and get him out of here, away from her. Away from her silver stakes and so, so vibrant Light.

She raised a hand. My fingers wrapped around her wrist before she could touch him.

“Mine,” I growled.

Gregor appeared at my side; I hadn’t even seen him move. Not a flash but something else. His hand wrapped around my arm; the one holding Amisi’s wrist.

“Mine,” he growled back.

We stood like that for a suspended moment and then Amisi sighed.

“Fine,” she said and twisted out of my hold and moved back.

I glared at Gregor. He glared back at me. But finally, he withdrew and moved to his Nosferatin’s side.

“What’s going on here, anyway?” she asked.

“Nothing, ma ange,” Gregor said. “Merely a meeting.”

“A meeting with a rogue?” Amisi asked, one perfectly plucked eyebrow arched.

Gregor looked contrite. I snorted. He shot me a hard glare.

“A test,” he said returning his attention to Amisi.

“Did they pass?” she asked, nodding towards Samson and me.

Gregor looked back at me. “Surprisingly, yes.”

I almost choked on a hurriedly indrawn breath.

“Good. Then I want a drink.” She turned toward the bar and then threw a scowl over her shoulder to Gregor. “You shut the club for this?”

“I shut the club for many things, ma ange. It is my club.”

Amisi began to pour herself a Kahlúa and milk.

“What would you like to drink?” she asked.

“You know what I like,” Gregor said on a purr.

“Not you,” she snapped. “Them.” She nodded at Samson and me.

I blinked and looked up at Samson. He still hadn’t moved, but his colour was back, and he was no longer sweating. It wasn’t using his talent that took it out of him, I thought. But fighting Gregor’s hold while doing it.

“Release him,” I said.

“You do not command me,” Gregor growled.

“I passed your test. Release him.”

“Stand down,” he growled.

“Gregor,” Amisi said quietly. “Samson is Lucinda’s vampire. This isn’t right.”

Gregor made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and Samson stumbled forward. As if he’d been leaning against whatever hold Gregor had on him and when it was gone, he hadn’t been able to catch himself.

I reached out and gripped his arm. A shot of electricity went through me, but circumstances being as they were meant I could ignore the lust that accompanied it. Samson straightened up and growled low, his vampire-within staring out of his eyes.

“Come now,” Amisi said, cajolingly. “It’s all over. We will share a drink. Whisky?”

Samson nodded his head and then finally tore his gaze off Gregor and looked at the Nosferatin instead.

“Thank you, Amisi,” he said. “Whisky will be fine.”

“And you, Georgia?” she asked.

I didn’t want to share a drink with either of them. Gregor was a douche and Amisi had seen Samson’s Dark.

“She’ll have a Vanilla Vodka,” Samson said, moving us both to stools at the bar.

“Nice,” Amisi said. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She stared at her Kahlúa and sighed.

The vampires in the room started to mingle; clearly having received telepathic instructions from Gregor to get on with their lives. Some left the room, one went and turned on the music, a couple laughed uproariously at another’s joke. It was all very civilised.

I sat down on the barstool beside Samson and didn’t make a sound. It was my turn to be the statue.

Sanguis Vitam washed out around us, sealing us in a bubble; making our conversation private.

“Nothus,” Gregor said, and Amisi stopped fussing with the drinks and looked me in the eye.

“I only sensed vampire last time you were here,” she said, “but I see it now. I see the Light.”

“Nosferatin,” Gregor added and something vulnerable shifted in his eyes.

Amisi reached over and gripped his hand tightly, but her eyes were on me when she spoke again.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“Nut,” I offered. “When my Sire failed to turn me, she saved my life. Lucinda’s doing.”

“Luce? Huh,” she said and took a sip of her drink. “That’s some origin story.”

I reached out and lifted the Vanilla Vodka up, then thought to hell with it and took a sip. Samson lifted his glass to his lips and downed all of the whisky.

Amisi looked across the bar at him and smiled. Then she poured him another.

“I sense this has not been easy for either of you,” she said.

“We’ve managed,” I said, defensively.

“Georgia is mine,” Samson offered and downed his next glass of whisky as well.

I frowned at him. He flashed fang back, the Black Dog staring out of his eyes.

“Mine,” he said, and that was definitely the Black Dog talking.

Gregor looked disgusted, but Amisi smiled a mile wide.

“The Dark is never as foreboding as when it is seen through a single pair of eyes.”

I stared at her.

“An old Egyptian Nosferatin saying,” she explained with a shrug. “The flip side, as Luce would say, is that the Light is never as bright as when seen through two pairs of eyes. She likes to make up sayings.”

Gregor snorted.

“Samson,” she said, then looked at me. “No, Georgia,” she corrected. “May I try something?”

“What?” I demanded.

“A sharing of Light.”

Gregor stiffened.

“Not like that, you sex fiend,” she snapped. I thought perhaps that Gregor was still in the doghouse. “A simple transference of Light to offset Samson’s Dark,” Amisi added, looking directly at me.

I didn’t want her Light anywhere hear him.

“No,” I said.

“Perhaps you should try it,” she offered. I didn’t know how. “Later,” she said. “When you’re alone, maybe.”

Did that mean I gave him my Light while we…did the deed?

I took a sip of my drink. Considering we were trying to avoid physical contact right now, that seemed like a really, really bad idea.

“I’ll be fine,” Samson said. “It settles when my vampire-within settles.” He looked at me. “Right now he is agitated.” Then he glared at Gregor.

“I had to know she could control it,” the Master of Wellington City said. I didn’t think Gregor was used to explaining himself, so part of me was impressed that he’d bothered.

Another part of me was just pissed.

“Your test,” I snarled. “Some test.”

It had been a fucking good one, but I wouldn’t let him know that.

“If it is known that a Nothus walks New Zealand’s streets,” he said without inflection, “and that the Enforcer for the Iunctio ignored her presence, all hell would rain down on this country.”

“All hell being the Champion,” Samson said, his body relaxing slightly.

Which was strange, considering who we were talking about. But I guessed he felt better understanding Gregor’s motives. If Gregor was to be believed.

I thought perhaps he was. Amisi was watching him closely, and he knew it. Even if Gregor Morel was a vampire who would survive at all costs, I thought perhaps he’d extended that saying to make sure his Nosferatin survived at all costs, too.

Amisi was precious to Gregor. It made it easier to trust the tricky vampire a little. At least, in this.

“I have control,” I said without inflection. Mimicking Gregor was probably childish, but I had to get my kicks where I could.

“I needed to be sure,” Gregor said, a low growl working its way into his voice then.

“Now you know.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Oh, please,” Amisi said dramatically. “Is it to be pistols at dawn between the two of you?”

“She started it,” Gregor said, his lips twitching.

“Douche,” I whispered, and he laughed.

Then abruptly stopped when he realised what he was doing.

He looked across the bar to Samson.

“Really?” he said dryly. “Your vampire chooses this one?”

“Yes,” Samson said simply. “And so do I.”

Gregor looked at me again and shook his head. And then he said, “She is powerful.”

“She is right here,” I snapped.

“He does that all the time,” Amisi pointed out. “It’s very frustrating.”

“Do I frustrate you, ma ange?”

“You know damn well you do, Morel.”

He sidled closer to her. “I could frustrate you some more tonight,” he purred.

She slapped him on the chest and looked at me.

“To love them is to be frustrated by them,” she quipped.

“Amen, sister,” I said, and she grinned.

I’d never had many girlfriends. Kara was my BFF and had been since kindergarten. I think she was landed with me by default. But I thought, then, that if I could choose a second BFF, it would have been Amisi.

I looked back at the Enforcer.

“We have an accord,” I said.

“And I will stand by it,” he replied.

“No more tests.”

“The test was not a breach of the accord.”

“And if your vampires had attacked me once they realised what I was?” That definitely would have been a breach of the accord.

“I have control.”

“So do I.” Thanks to Samson.

“Then it’s settled,” he said. “You will hunt the fairy who is involved in this mess and find my MPs.”

“You want me to work for you?”

“Yes. You do a similar thing with Jett, I believe.”

“And get paid for it.” My salary for bartending at Sensations had not been stopped, despite the fact that I hadn’t tended bar there in weeks.

“I shall pay you also, then.”

Great. I was a bona fide, pension earning hound dog. Mark paid me. The vampires paid me. Now I just had to get Aliath to pay me, and I’d be set.

“Where were they taken from?” I asked.

“Their homes,” Gregor said. “I can arrange invitations for you.”

I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to see his reaction.

“I don’t need them.”

He blinked. Amisi smirked into her glass. Samson shifted beside me.

“But Samson does,” I said.

“Then I shall arrange them for him,” Gregor ground out.

It was fun to mess with the master vampire.

“What else do you need?” he asked.

“Just the addresses.”

He pulled a piece of paper out of his suit jacket and pushed it across the bar top to me. He’d had it prepared, ready to go. He’d expected this outcome despite all the “testing”.

Tricky vampire.

“OK, well, we should get started,” I said, pushing up off the stool. Samson stood as well, saying nothing.

I could still sense his Dark. I could still tell he wasn’t himself yet. His Black Dog paced within him, occasionally the grey eyes peeked out from behind the cinnamon and taupe.

Amisi noticed it too. Her eyes swept from observing Samson to looking at me. The kindness and compassion in them almost made me cringe. I wasn’t used to seeing that look in people’s eyes. Certainly not people who didn’t already mean the world to me.

I cleared my throat. “Are we done here, Master of the City?” I asked.

“So formal,” he muttered. “Why do I not believe it?’

I grinned at him, putting as much sweetie-pie into it as I could manage.

He grimaced.

“Get going. Report back to me by morning. A chamber will be waiting here at Desire for you once you are done.”

“Your hospitality is without equal,” I said and turned on my heel.

“I still don’t like you,” he shouted after me.

“Ditto,” I shouted back and stepped out of the building, Samson on my tail.

We stood under the stars and inhaled the night. I saw Samson’s Black Dog settle behind his eyes. He looked down at me.

“You didn’t tell him,” he said. About my Sire.

“Not the right time,” I muttered and started to walk.

“There will never be a right time, Georgia.”

“I know,” I said and checked the first address. “Maybe I won’t have to,” I added.

Samson arched a brow at me.

I held up the piece of paper. “He might be waiting,” I offered.

Samson didn’t look happy about that.

“Shall we hunt?” I said, instead of getting into an argument about it.

“I have always wanted to hunt with you, mate,” the Black Dog said.

“As have I with you,” the Dark Shadow answered.

“Down boy,” I muttered.

Samson laughed.

It filled my soul with Light. It lit up the night sky and surrounding environment. It heated any lingering chill I had felt and melted it into nothing.

I glanced over at him. It was still there; the Darkness. But it was coated again in Light.

I hadn’t shared mine with him. He’d found his own. Or, by making him laugh, I’d helped him find it.

I’d do anything, anything at all, to help Samson find his Light.

“Mate,” I said, testing the word on my tongue.

“Georgia,” he purred in reply.

And then I flashed away, and a split second later he followed.

Maybe when we returned to Desire de Sang by morning, I would be ready.

It was easy to think like that when I knew the chance of outwitting my Sire was slim to none.

He was waiting for me. Somewhere in Wellington. Maybe with a dozen or so Taniwha at his back.

But something told me this time our meeting would hurt. Not just physically. But personally. Emotionally. He was up to something, and it was more than just calling me to him so he could rip off my head and be done with his wayward child.

Those MPs meant something. They had to. Because otherwise none of this made a lick of sense.

My Dark Shadow growled low and long.

The Black Dog joined her.

It was brighter with two pairs of eyes.

I just hoped it was bright enough.

20

Dazed

A fairy had been here. I stared at the glass doors the first Wellington MP had been abducted through and catalogued the various scents at the scene.

Bitter-sweet dark chocolate. Pungent and spicy pepper. Bruised rose petals and overripe summer fruit. And peaches and ozone. The peaches didn’t belong to my Sire. They belonged to the fairy. As did the pepper. The fairy felt contempt. The MP felt fear and pain.

Not a good combination.

“Anything?” Samson asked from the shadows.

We’d been to two of the locations already and scented much the same there, but as soon as we’d arrived here, I’d known entering the abode was unnecessary. The scents outside told the same story.

“No wet dog,” I said.

“Fey,” he spat.

I nodded my head. “Where have the Taniwha gone?”

Samson shrugged and looked out across the dark street. A lone police car sat opposite the driveway of the MPs house, a cop reading a magazine inside it. Stakeout. Protection for the family who awaited news of their lost father.

“Maybe they got the message when Gregor turned up in their camp?” Samson suggested.

“I didn’t take them as the acquiescing type.”

“No, nor did I,” he mused.

“Then their absence means something.”

“And the fairy’s presence adds to the meaning.”

I agreed. I drew the shadows around us, hiding myself and Samson from prying eyes. I was surprised it had worked the first time I did it, but none of the cops at any of the scenes had blinked an eye. I started following the scent, out onto the street and then down a few hundred metres. Samson followed behind faithfully.

How the hell had they dragged the MP so far?

“They must have been masked somehow,” I said.

“Undoubtedly. He was taken at sunset. The sun still lightened the sky. There would have been witnesses.”

We all knew what happened to witnesses, though.

But the other MPs hadn’t been taken at sunset. This had been a one-night-takes-all kind of endeavour. They started early, in order to make the rounds. Which would explain why my Sire wasn’t here, but he hadn’t been at the other scenes either.

This was all the fairy.

“I don’t recognise the fairy’s scent,” I said as we kept following the trail he or she had left me. “I can’t even tell if they’re Light or Dark Fey.”

“Not Aliath, then.”

I glanced sharply at Samson.

“Aliath wouldn’t do this,” I said, unsure if that statement was true or not.

“I’m not so trusting,” Samson murmured. “If his Queen demanded it of him, then yes, he would do exactly as she wished.”

Like using me to hunt Isoleth’s spies.

“Well,” I said, feeling uncomfortable talking about Aliath, “his scent isn’t here in any case.”

Although I could do with some insight from the Dökkálfa Prince. He might have been able to shed some light on things.

I paused at where the scent dissipated. The smell of a diesel engine replaced the overlapping signature scents I’d identified. Entwined with the diesel was a faint hint of wet dog. Not enough to make me believe they drove the vehicle that picked up the Fey and the MP, but enough to know they had been in the vehicle at one time.

“The Taniwha are still connected,” I said, standing up from my crouch at the side of the road. “But they might have been replaced by the fairy.”

“You scent them?”

“One of them used the car that was here at one time.”

Samson stared at me with a strange look on his face.

“What?” I demanded.

“You are quite remarkable.”

I shook my head and looked off into the distance in the direction the vehicle had gone.

“I could try to follow the diesel,” I said, ignoring how Samson’s compliment made me feel. “But the streets are starting to get busy again. Dawn is coming.”

“Dawn is coming,” Samson repeated as if it were a pronouncement vampires made.

I turned to look at him. He was wearing dark jeans and a dark, skin-tight, long-sleeved t-shirt. The leather jacket he wore over the top did nothing to hide the breadth of his chest or the ripple of his muscles. I wanted desperately to be ensconced in a room at Desire de Sang and to peel him out of his clothing.

But I also wanted to stay as far away from that place as I could get and it wasn’t just because Gregor scared me.

Mating did too.

“So,” I said. “That about covers it for what I can…”

Something shimmered in the air down towards the house we’d just been investigating. I checked the police car and the officer inside; he seemed to have fallen asleep. I didn’t think that really happened in real life; only in the movies.

I glanced back at the house, but everything seemed in order. A sole light on in the front window as if a beacon for the missing.

Something shifted near the front porch.

“Do you see that?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Something’s there.” I started moving back towards the house, making sure to keep the shadows pulled close around us.

It was a measure of Samson’s faith in me that he didn’t talk me out of approaching whatever supernatural occurrence this was.

But whatever it was had a head start on us, and it was fast acting. Even flashing there meant we were seconds too late. The shimmer had disappeared by the time we both came to rest on the front path leading to the porch. The night seemed unnaturally silent. As if it too held its breath.

A lump of dark material lay on the ground, unmoving. I approached with care, expecting it to suddenly jump out and attack me. Inhaling scents told me nothing I hadn’t already guessed. The fairy had been here.

And then the form did shift, and on the air, I scented the MP’s signature scent.

“It’s the minister,” I said, crouching down to pull the clothing that covered his face back.

“The cop’s waking,” Samson advised from behind me.

We were still bathed in shadows, but someone would notice there was too little light under the moon right here.

The MP groaned; the sound seemed to amplify in the air. The cop’s car door squeaked open.

“Who’s there?” he called.

The MP groaned again. I made a quick assessment of his body; no injuries and nothing hidden in his pockets that would tell me why he’d been returned so quickly.

The MPs in Auckland had been gone over a week. This MP had been gone less than an evening.

I stood up and stepped back, taking Samson with me, as the cop carefully approached the moaning form on the path in front of the building.

“Show me your hands!” he ordered.

The MP groaned again, his fingers twitching, his hands flapping around on the ground slightly.

I inhaled, checking the scents, noting the MP had become agitated and confused. Ozone mixed with a hint of peaches coated the air around him, licked across the path and climbed up the cop’s boots.

The cop pulled a radio from his belt and put it to his lips.

“WNX3-Comms,” he called.

The dispatcher replied.

“Assistance required at my 1220. The bird has come home to roost.”

I snorted, the sound leaking out through my shadow cloak and ringing too loudly on the air.

The cop shone his torch directly at me.

“Who’s there?” he shouted. He reached for his Taser.

Despite my shadows, that would hurt.

Samson and I flashed away, coming to rest by unspoken agreement on the other side of the street. Close enough to see and hear, but scenting would be difficult at this distance.

I’d smelled all I needed to smell, though.

I pulled my cellphone from my pocket as I watched the cop check the bushes behind where we had been standing, and the MP groaned on the ground some more. The front door of the house opened, and the MP’s wife emerged and then let out a scream when she saw her husband lying there. The cop started to tell her to stay inside. The kids came streaming out around her. In seconds, lights in the neighbouring houses had started flicking on, one by one.

The scene turned into chaos.

“Georgia,” Gregor said when he answered his cellphone. “What have you got for me.”

“MP number one is back,” I said succinctly.

“Already.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. “I’ll be right there.”

I hung up the phone and waited in the shadows with Samson’s heat warming me.

“No wet dog,” I said.

“I had wondered,” Samson offered. “Just the fairy?”

“Yes.”

“The same one?”

“Yes.”

“We need to know who it is.”

“Yes.” Aliath, I thought, if only you had a cellphone in Álfheimr.

Gregor beat the ambulance and additional police vehicles to the address. But his presence was noted. The MP had been covered but not removed from the front path. Neighbours had spilt out and were talking to one another across white picket fences. A few cellphone cameras were clicking in the slowly brightening dawn.

We needed to get inside, and as soon as Gregor’s limousine pulled up to the side of the road before us, we gratefully slipped into the dark interior with him. He said nothing. The car remained stationary. I watched as Gregor stared out of the window towards the MP’s house and the mess that was there.

“My contact will be here shortly,” he said when I started to fidget. “What did you find at the scene?”

“No Taniwha,” I offered. He spared me a glance at that. “Fairy.”

“A new player?”

“The same one as in Auckland,” I said.

It had taken a second or two to confirm that. The fairy did something to his scent when he used that masking ability. Or maybe it was just when he’d used his Fey magic. Because the scent I had smelled at the scenes when the witnesses had their memories erased had been different. But not different enough for me to detect a commonality.

Clearly, the fairy had not expected a Hundr. To a normal vampire, maybe the scents would have appeared different. But not to me.

Gregor curled his hands into fists and stared at the MP’s front garden. The MP was sitting up now, trying to stand up, in fact. His wife was fussing, and the cop was flapping. I gathered they wanted the ambulance officers to check him out first. His butt must have been frozen sitting on the cold concrete.

“Light Fey,” I said, managing to startle Gregor out of his simmering anger.

Thoughts had been percolating in the background while I’d been watching the scene. I hadn’t realised I’d come to a conclusion until I’d spoken.

“Light Fey?” Gregor enquired mildly. That ‘mildly’ was not to be taken as anything other than a threat.

“He tried to mask his scent,” I said. “To change it at each scene. It would have been enough for a vampire to have thought each fairy was different. That there were more Fey involved than what had actually been.”

“And this means Light Fey?” Gregor asked.

I looked at the Master of Wellington City then and hated that I had to reveal more of my secrets just to explain myself.

I tried for subterfuge first.

“I can tell. It’s what I do.”

“You scent things in a way that is more accurate than a vampire,” Gregor said succinctly.

“Yes.” I beat him on the succinct front.

“A talent.” One more he now knew of. I said nothing. “Is it a Light Fey you have scented before?”

I said nothing.

Gregor shifted. I knew what came next and braced myself.

But he didn’t get a chance to carry out his physical threat, a knock sounded out on the window, halting his trajectory. Gregor turned back to the car door as Samson slowly sank back into his seat. He’d been halfway out, ready to defend me. I didn’t need his defence.

But I shot him a look of gratitude anyway. And then shook my head slowly.

Don’t do that again, my eyes told him.

Mate, he mouthed back at me.

Gregor lowered the window a fraction so he could talk to the man on the other side of the door. The sun had come up fully now, but the driver had parked the limousine in enough shade to allow this small opening without any of us getting burned.

“Roger,” Gregor said.

“Mr Morel.”

“What can you tell me about the minister’s return?”

He was a cop, I realised. A detective. This must have been Gregor’s contact.

“He’s confused,” the detective said. “The ambos are sorting him out now. He’s not been physically harmed, but he’s jumping at shadows.” I wondered if that was because of me. Waking up to a shadowed form rifling through your pockets couldn’t be the nicest of experiences. “He can’t tell us who took him or where they went. Although he did say, it smelled funny.”

“Funny?”

“He’s talking in riddles. None of it makes sense and the more he says, the more he realises we’re gonna insist on him taking a trip to the hospital. Maybe for an extended stay, you know what I mean? He’s not up for that.”

“I see,” Gregor said, and his tone of voice made the detective shuffle uncomfortably on his feet.

“He kept mentioning silver hair and green eyes. Does that mean anything?”

Gregor turned and looked at me. I nodded my head. That said fairy, all right. But which one?

“Anything else?” Gregor asked.

“Yeah,” the cop said. “The other MPs have turned up as well.”

Fuck-a-duck. They’d all been returned in one evening? That didn’t make sense.

“Did any of them mention caves?” I asked.

The cop looked into the car, his eyes squinting. I checked and made sure I’d released the shadows, so it must have been a ward Gregor had on the vehicle making it difficult to see right into it.

“Answer the question,” the Master vampire said, Sanguis Vitam coating each word.

“Not caves,” the detective replied in a monotone. Gregor, it seemed, packed a Sanguis Vitam punch. “Just green eyes and silver hair and one of them said he smelled peaches. Must have been hungry.”

Not hungry. But in Álfheimr. I couldn’t be sure. But if it took over a week to do whatever they needed to do to the Auckland MPs they’d abducted, then the only way they could have accomplished something similar with the Wellington ones was to take them somewhere where time passed differently. Álfheimr had shifted from moving slower than Earth’s realm to moving quite a bit faster it seemed.

“Anything else?” Gregor said. It took a moment for me to realise he was talking to me.

I shook my head absently, too busy thinking about the Taniwha’s absence. Maybe shapeshifters couldn’t use the portals, and that’s why they weren’t present at any of these Wellington scenes. The fairy had acted alone. And used Álfheimr’s change in time to achieve his mission in one night instead of a half dozen.

Something about today was important.

“That will be all,” Gregor was saying. “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Mr Morel.” The cop walked away, whistling.

The limousine moved off without Gregor having to say a thing.

“What now?” Samson asked.

Gregor looked at me.

“What have you concluded?” he asked.

“He took them to Álfheimr.”

“My thoughts exactly. Why?”

“Because today means something and he wanted them back in our realm for it.”

“So,” Gregor said sitting back in his seat opposite us, “what could today mean?”

I had no idea. It was a Tuesday. Parliament sits on a Tuesday. The Auckland MPs would be addressing them today for the first time.

“Can we get into Parliament House?” I asked.

“To what purpose?” Gregor enquired.

“The Auckland MPs will be speaking on the floor about their abductions.”

“I have contacts who will keep us informed.”

“It means something,” I said.

“Today,” he confirmed.

I nodded. “And the only thing I can think that’s happening today that’s significant to this case is the return of the Auckland MPs to Parliament.”

“We’ll get into Parliament House,” Gregor advised me.

The limousine turned down a different street. I wasn’t sure if that was because Gregor had given the driver a new destination or because the driver was always going to turn down this street. But it gave me the creeps.

The sun crept higher in the sky and by the time we’d made it to Bowen Street in the CBD I was beginning to feel tired. Most newbie vampires need to sleep during the day. I wasn’t exempt from needing a bit of shut-eye. Thankfully, I could manage on just a few hours, but the past couple of days had been demanding. I felt my eyelids drooping, my neck getting softer. At one stage I woke up with a jolt, having felt my temple rest against Samson’s shoulder.

Gregor watched me with amusement laced eyes. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion.

Predator, the Dark Shadow said and raked her claws down my stomach trying to wake me.

Got it, I said, stifling a yawn.

The limousine entered an underground carpark and came to rest in a spot marked ‘reserved’. I doubted it was Gregor’s personal parking spot under Parliament House, but no one was going to argue with him.

The driver opened his door, and the Master vampire stepped out with all the aplomb of a visiting dignitary. I scrambled out on the other side of the vehicle, trying to place as much space between him and me.

He smirked.

Samson followed, unfolding his long length from the vehicle and catching my eye. The instant connection I felt when he looked at me shook me slightly. I’d always been attracted to Samson, but this was different. This was electrifying. And almost impossible to ignore.

The Dark Shadow, though, had started pacing. She was happy that we’d made a choice in regards to our mate, and as such, she felt able to concentrate on other things. Other threats.

She did not like being here, but she didn’t tell me why.

“A coffee first,” Gregor announced and headed toward a lift at the end of the carpark.

He used his Sanguis Vitam to gain access and then stepped into the little box. It was smaller than I wanted it to be but damned if I’d show any reaction. I followed behind him and stopped breathing. I didn’t need to smell sticky toffee to know it was there.

Gregor’s amusement grated.

The barista in the coffee hut in the main entranceway had three triple strength coffees waiting for us. It creeped me out that Gregor could do that. We took our drinks and headed toward the public gallery. Parliament’s session was open this morning. A lot of reporters wanted to know what the returned MPs had to say.

Finding seats at the back of the gallery, we sat down and listened to the general hubbub of talk in the press corps. Then silence descended as the Speaker walked in.

The MPs present all stood and waited for him to open that day’s session. I spotted the three Auckland MPs at once down in the House. Two on one side of the political divide. One on the other.

It was one of the Labour MPs who stood first. Four Labour Party members had been abducted and two National. I still couldn’t see the connection.

I waited for him to start talking. My Dark Shadow paced, her claws extended. Then the MP pressed a button on a remote, and a TV screen on the side flickered on, lighting up the front rows of Parliament.

“I don’t know much,” the guy said. It was the one who had the mistress, I absently noted. The one who liked handcuffs and anal. I shifted in my seat as my lip curled. “But I do know one thing,” the guy said.

Every single person in the gallery and down in the members’ seats held their breath, leaned forward slightly, eyes intently focused on the man who spoke.

It was almost as if it had been choreographed.

“We are not alone,” the MP said. “Homo sapiens are not alone.”

An image appeared on the TV screen. It was a big TV screen, so although the image was slightly grainy, the detail was enough that you could see the fangs. It was a vampire, clearly. No denying.

But not just any vampire.

Gregor and Samson swung their heads to look at me; equal expressions of horror and outrage on their faces.

“She was there,” the MP was saying. “She’s the only face I remember.”

Oh, shit.

“And she’s a vampire.”

“I saw her too,” the National MP shouted.

“Me, too,” the other Labour MP said, as voices on both sides of the political divide started to yell at each other.

I was betting the Wellington MPs would be backing this up in the next half hour. The reporters were already on their cellphones; the noise in the gallery clamouring for attention above the shouts down in the House.

So far, none of them had looked at me, but that wouldn’t take long. The TV screen was big and bright as if a neon flashing arrow pointed everyone’s attention to it.

And to me.

“Ah, shit,” I muttered and reached for the nearest shadows.

“No kidding,” Gregor said, sounding enraged.

The other shoe had dropped. Right on top of me.

21

Cornered

The only saving grace was that no one believed them. The photograph of me with fangs extended and red eyes glowing was called a fake. The fact that it wasn’t a fake was simply ironic. But the general populace disbelieved the notion that vampires existed and more importantly that we had hidden ourselves from them for ages. The press was having a ball, of course, asking in bold print headlines if it was April Fools Day.

It wasn’t.

Or at least the joke was on me not them.

“Why you?” Gregor asked as he paced the empty clubroom floor at Desire de Sang.

I looked at Samson, who looked back at me and said nothing. This was my story to tell.

“Where was that photograph taken?” Gregor added when I didn’t speak.

“That looks like Karangahape Road,” Amisi offered, studying the image on the TV screen behind the bar. “Just down from Sensations.”

Gregor stopped pacing and stared up at the slightly grainy picture of my face.

“Do you remember when it was taken?” he asked, and this time his voice was measured, controlled. Demanding an answer simply by his level tone. Or by the unheard, yet obviously there, threat in his voice.

“No,” I said, which evidently was not the right thing to say.

Gregor spun in a flash of dark colours and wrapped his hand around my throat in the next blink.

“Accord,” I managed to rasp before he applied pressure.

“Do you realise what you have done?” he said slowly.

“Wasn’t me,” I tried to say, but no sound could slip past his hold.

“Release her,” the Black Dog suddenly said. Samson was just out of my line of sight, but Gregor’s eyes flicked up over my shoulder, platinum and silver shining as he assessed the threat.

I’m not sure anyone had met Samson’s inner vampire before, but clearly, the Black Dog was acting as my mate.

“Stand down, vampire,” Gregor commanded.

“Release her,” he repeated, this time backing it up with a growl.

“This does not concern you. Stand down.”

Sanguis Vitam washed across the clubroom floor.

“Release. Her.”

Gregor flicked his hand and Samson went flying. I only knew he had because I heard the crunch as his body hit the far wall.

I started struggling then. A part of me desperate to check on Samson, to protect him. Another part enraged that the Master Vampire could beat the Black Dog so easily. Samson was only a level four Sanguis Vitam vampire, but for some reason, I saw the Black Dog as so much more.

I reached for my Light and shoved it as hard as I could at the vampire before me. Gregor pushed back with his blood life force. Amisi shouted something. We both ignored her. Sanguis Vitam fought for hold against Nosferatin Light.

Then my Dark Shadow woke up and extended her claws.

“Release me,” she growled, somehow getting the words out around Gregor’s still tight hold.

“I should end you now.”

“We have an accord.”

“You have broken it.”

“How?”

“Gregor,” Amisi said, voice careful.

“Stay out of this, Amisi,” he snapped. Not using his nickname for her must have stung, because I could see the flinch the Nosferatin made.

Or maybe it was his tone. He was furious.

“You have exposed us,” he growled. “You have painted a bullseye on New Zealand. The Champion will soon know. I cannot hide this from her. I cannot.”

He leapt away, releasing me as if I were suddenly contaminated. I felt contaminated. Through no fault of my own, I had done exactly what Gregor Morel accused me of.

“What will she do?” I asked, sidling closer to Samson’s still form.

Gregor flicked a glance at me and then slid his gaze to Samson.

“What the hell was that?” he said in frustration. “Was that his vampire-within?”

I noticed he hadn’t answered the question. Maybe the Champion was the Iunctio councillors’ boogeyman too.

I reached Samson’s side and crouched down, keeping my front to Gregor and the threat in the room. I checked Samson’s pulse; he didn’t have one. Not that that was needed to know that he still lived. There was no dust; no silver stake protruding from his chest. He was simply knocked out.

I brushed his hair back from his face and sent a bolt of my Light into him.

He sucked in a pain-filled breath of air and sat up, eyes blinking. They were still cinnamon and taupe, still his vampire’s eyes. They looked at me. His hand came up and cupped my cheek. And then his vampire-within looked at Gregor Morel.

“I challenge…”

Gregor held up his hand to stall him, possibly using a smattering of Sanguis Vitam to send the message home.

“Enough,” he said. “You made your point, and she is unharmed.”

He didn’t want to fight Samson’s Black Dog. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“I will watch you,” the Black Dog said.

“And I you, old friend,” Gregor murmured in reply.

My head flicked between the two vampires. I noticed Amisi arch her brow. She had an inkling of what had just happened here. I needed to corner the Nosferatin and get to the bottom of this, but Gregor had already moved on.

“The Champion will contact me first,” he said. “We have that much going for us. But if I can’t stall her, she’ll send someone else here on her behalf. Possibly the Nemesis.” He didn’t sound happy about that.

“What does he do?” I asked.

“He fucks with people,” Gregor said.

That could have meant anything. Anything at all.

“He brings about their downfall,” Amisi added. “He’s strong.”

“All of the council is strong,” Gregor said.

“What about Michel?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what Michel’s role on the council was, but he’d be our best bet for surviving this.

Maybe.

“The Champion is more intelligent than that,” Gregor said succinctly.

So, no Michel. And no vicarious protection through Lucinda.

Great.

Gregor moved across to a barstool and sat down. He looked the picture of an urbane and suave male. Dark suit, artfully tousled hair, and a shadow of stubble across a square jaw. The scar down his cheek just added a counterpoint to all that self-possession.

“Tell me everything you know,” he said.

I wasn’t sure I could get out of this. Aside from the fact that he was the Master of Wellington City and an Iunctio councillor, he was also more powerful than either the Black Dog or me.

But acknowledging my back was to a corner and there was no way out in sight, and actually making my lips move were two different things.

I crossed the floor to the bar and slipped behind it, and then started to mix drinks. The practised movements made it easier to breathe, and the thought that I’d have a hit of alcohol at the end of it made me more determined to mix the damn things.

No one said a word as I first mixed a Manhattan, then followed it up with a Cosmopolitan, a Margarita and a Martini.

Gregor took the Martini, of course.

I handed the Manhattan to Samson and the Cosmo to Amisi and then downed my Margarita in one.

While I mixed up a replacement drink for myself, I said, “My Sire is a Rogue.”

“I had gathered,” Gregor said, sipping his drink. “But what has that to do with the photo?”

“When I told you that I’d taken care of the person responsible for what I am, I’d believed that to be the truth.”

Gregor studied me but didn’t say anything.

“I smelled his signature scent at one of the Auckland abduction scenes.”

The Martini hovered in the air and then he placed the glass carefully back on the bar top.

“I see,” he said. “Why?”

Why the outing, he meant. Why come after me in such a public - Norm noticeable - way?

“I refused to obey him. To be a tool for him to use.”

“You’ve had a run-in with him before,” Gregor surmised. “The SubZero case.”

I nodded and leaned back against the sink behind the bar, sipping my drink nonchalantly. As if I believed I could still get out of this with my head in one place.

“Georgia staked him,” Samson said. I checked, and it was Samson talking; the Black Dog had retreated when he realised I was out of immediate danger. “I saw her do it.”

“But he fell from the top of a skyscraper,” I added, “and by the time we got down to ground level any dust that might have existed had been blown away.”

“The stake?” Amisi asked.

“Missing.”

“That alone would indicate he survived and took it with him,” Gregor announced.

“A silver stake,” I countered.

“Your stake,” he corrected. “Was he aware of what you were?”

“Not at first,” I said, running a hand through my hair and then noting the drink still resting in my other one. I took a healthy swallow. “But by the time I staked him, he was up with the play. Most of it, anyway.”

Gregor smiled. It was a chilling smile. He knew some of my secrets; more of them as of today.

“And you believe he is behind these abductions, this outing in Parliament?” Gregor asked. But I thought perhaps he already knew the answer.

I just nodded.

“He’s working with the Fey,” he surmised.

“He worked with them when he doctored the SubZero drink, too,” Samson offered.

“He has connections, then.” Gregor looked at me and demanded, “What did you say his name was?”

“I didn’t.”

“Then enlighten me.”

“You’re not my master.”

“This has happened because you do not have a master,” Gregor said reasonably. I didn’t feel reasonable about any of it. “Had you joined a line, we may well have been able to avoid such a calamity.”

“The press doesn’t believe it.”

“They will if more evidence is presented. We must get on top of this before it spreads internationally.”

“New Zealand would be the laughing stock of the world’s press,” I said.

“Do you remember your history? Salem? Bram Stoker?”

“Salem was about human witches, and Bram Stoker was fiction.”

“Was it? Ask Michel.”

No thanks.

“And the Salem Witch Trials,” Gregor went on when I said nothing, “and others like them worldwide, took a large number of Nosferatin with them. Along with their kindred.”

“Their kindred?” I asked.

“Kindred Nosferatu,” Gregor said dismissively. As if I should have known this already.

I hated being the last to know everything.

“I don’t know what a kindred Nosferatu is,” I said through gritted teeth. “Some kind of freak vampire?”

Gregor looked at Amisi and then slowly turned his head to look at Samson.

“Did Lucinda not tell her?”

“I…” Samson managed and then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he added.

“Clearly not. Your mistress has been negligent.”

“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t blame Lucinda.”

Samson blinked at me. I refused to look directly at him. I kept my gaze averted from everyone. I carried too much guilt for how I’d acted. Even if it had been the only way I’d been able to keep my head above the water - or blood as the case may be - at the time.

But then Lucinda had left for London.

“So, what is it?” I asked. “This kindred Nosferatu thing.”

“It’s just kindred,” Amisi said softly. “A kindred pairing between a Nosferatu and Nosferatin. It’s what binds us together. Makes us stronger.”

It sounded a hell of a lot like a mating.

“Is it sexual?” I asked.

Gregor smirked. “It can be.”

“But not always,” Amisi said, shooting Gregor a glare. “It’s Nut’s gift to us.”

“I’m not sure Nut was thinking of us when she said we had to pair up with a vampire,” I told her.

Amisi smiled. It was at once beautiful and caring and steeped in sadness. I thought perhaps it was sadness for me; for my outlook on life. For my mistrust and negativity.

“We hunt them,” Amisi said. “We give them our Light and banish their Dark. We release them from their prison; bring them the final death. But to do this, we must also love them.”

“That makes absolutely no sense,” I snapped.

“Au contraire, ma petite Nosferatin,” Gregor said. “For how could you give of your Light; give of your essence, what makes you you, if you don’t feel a connection to us? We are all not so selfless, I think, to open ourselves to such a degree and part with that which makes us whole. Our Goddess merely made sure we remained as one community through the ages, ensuring that time did not do us damage as the sun or silver would.”

I shook my head.

“How old are you?” Amisi asked.

“What’s that got to do with it?” I demanded. I was pretty sure I’d stopped ageing when I was turned, died and saved.

“Just humour me, please,” Amisi urged.

“Twenty-six.”

She looked at Gregor. He raised an eyebrow and looked back at me, studying me again.

“Would you stop doing that,” I growled.

He ignored me and looked at Samson.

“She hasn’t joined with you.” It wasn’t a question. Samson growled at it anyway. “Then who has she joined with?”

“No one,” I snapped. “I’d know if I’d joined with someone. Wouldn’t I?”

“Yes,” Amisi said walking around the bar and approaching me. I almost wanted to tuck tail and run. Far away. “I can see the Light,” she said. “I can see you’re Nosferatin; there is no doubt. But you are also Nosferatu. Perhaps a kindred joining is not necessary.”

I’d take that as a win any day, even if I didn’t understand what this kindred joining thing was.

“That does not mean it’s not possible,” she added, making me sputter and wave my hands around.

“Get away from me,” I snarled. “You’re all crazy.”

“Of course,” Gregor said, taking a leisurely sip of his Martini, “who would be desperate enough to join with her?”

Samson’s growl this time was frightening.

“Mine,” the Black Dog said.

“Yes, yes, but even you in your heyday would not have attempted such a pairing.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded. “Do you know his vampire-within?”

Gregor looked at Samson. The Black Dog looked back.

Both of them said, “Yes.”

I stared at Samson and then looked at Gregor and finally turned my attention to Amisi.

“I’m lost,” I said.

Amisi sighed. “There is much we do not know about Twin Souls,” she said.

And OK, I’d had enough of the kooky mumbo-jumbo for one day. Even directing everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand - namely my picture up on the evening news - wasn’t as bad as all of this.

“The Champion,” I said.

“Does not have a kindred,” Gregor supplied.

I growled at him. He just smiled.

Then finished his drink and held the empty glass out to me.

“If you’d be so kind,” he said.

I scowled at him and thought about spitting in his cocktail, but the professional bartender in me won out.

“She hasn’t contacted me yet,” Gregor said, once I started mixing his drink for him.

“And how will she do that?” I asked, placing the olive on the rim of the glass, just so.

“Telephone,” he said, accepting the drink with a type of charm he had no right possessing.

“Oh.” I’d expected a different answer. Maybe telepathy or something.

“Of course, she could just visit.”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t come here!”

“Not in corporeal form,” Gregor clarified. “But she can project. It compromises her, although not many know it and she’d have my head for saying it here. But it does, and it is worth noting.”

Why would he help me by saying that?

“So, what do we do?” I asked, finally taking us to the crux of the matter.

It had taken two Martinis, two Margaritas, a Cosmopolitan and a Manhattan, not to mention hocus-pocus and a history lesson to get here. But that’s vampires for you.

“We need to locate your Sire,” Gregor said. “We also should add our own flavour to the stories emerging in the press.”

“It would help to erase the memories of the MPs,” Samson offered.

“Yes. If they suddenly can’t remember a thing, then their account becomes less reality and more mental instability.”

“They’re MPs,” I said. “They run the country. You can’t mess with their heads.”

“Their heads have already been messed with,” Gregor said reasonably.

“That’s my point. How much more can they take?”

“As much as is needed to right this mess.”

He said that looking pointedly at me as if this mess was because of me. And I guessed it was really. Xavier was my Sire.

“You should know,” I said, wiping down the bar as if I were getting paid to do it, “I couldn’t counter the witnesses’ lost memories when I tried. Something the fairy had done made it resistant to Sanguis Vitam or glazing.”

“You’re just a well of interesting information, aren’t you?” Gregor said.

I said nothing.

“I could do it,” Samson offered.

I started shaking my head immediately.

“Hear me out, Gigi,” he pressed.

“No,” I replied.

“It has to be done.”

“I said no.” It would make him Darker. It would make Lucinda’s Light disappear. “Definitely not.”

“It’ll be all right,” he soothed.

“No.”

“I have to do this. Mate.”

It was him, and it wasn’t him. It was part the Black Dog and part the man I loved. And it had been said with such conviction, such devotion, I didn’t know what to say in return.

“Then it’s settled,” Gregor announced. “Samson will deal with the MPs.”

He didn’t even ask what Samson would do that I hadn’t done. If he knew of Samson’s talent, he wasn’t saying. I thought he couldn’t possibly know, Samson hadn’t even told Lucinda. But maybe Samson’s talent was the Black Dog’s talent, and Gregor knew the Black Dog. They had a history together. A history that Samson and Gregor did not have.

“Georgia will hunt her Sire,” Gregor added. “And I’ll work my magic with the press.”

It made sense. It all made horrible, terrible sense. But I couldn’t help thinking it was a mistake. That we were walking into a trap. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t stop the inevitable from happening. I couldn’t protect Samson. He wouldn’t even be with me. I’d be too far away hunting Xavier.

I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t see another way.

I stared up at the TV screen showing the image of me flashing fangs. When had it been taken? How had I not known a camera was there? Had Xavier been that close and I hadn’t even sensed him? Scented him? Had he used the shadows?

I looked down at the empty glasses on the bar top and began to clean them.

It was something I had control over at least.

Gregor stood up as if the discussion was over and everything had been decided. And then he stopped suddenly and cocked his head to the side; a low, threatening growl followed.

“What now,” I muttered as Amisi approached him.

“What is it?” she asked, but Gregor spun and glared at me.

“Must you draw every single master vampire to you?” he snarled. “You’re as bad as Lucinda. At least her ability was prophesied. You’re just an unexpected pain in the arse.”

The door to the clubroom opened and in swept Sanguis Vitam to rival Gregor’s.

I arched my brow and then crossed my arms over my chest, glaring up at the Master of Wellington City.

“I didn’t invite him,” I said.

“You didn’t need to,” Gregor growled. “And I should have been the one doing the inviting.”

Or declining, I thought.

“Master of the City,” a deep, resonant voice announced. “Forgive the intrusion. But you’ve got a vampire of mine who appears to be in a spot of trouble.”

Jett stood at the edge of the dance floor staring at Gregor. Power rolled off him in waves of prickling energy. Some of it stroked down my side and swatted me on the bum.

I growled. Samson growled. Gregor growled. The only one not growling was Amisi.

Jett smiled. I wasn’t sure if there were any more shoes that could drop.

I sure as shit hoped not.

22

Scared

Jett stared up at the news on the TV while Gregor stared daggers at Auckland’s Master of the City. I understood how unusual it was for Jett to be here. Impossible even without an invite; he could have been inciting war between himself and Wellington’s Master of the City.

Which meant Jett believed his presence here was essential. But why?

He lowered his azure blue eyes to my face and winked at me. Then he turned slowly, leisurely, toward Gregor.

“We have much to discuss.”

“Yes,” Gregor said stiffly.

“It will require privacy.”

“Agreed.”

Gregor began moving off toward a door at the rear of the club.

“Hold on a minute,” I said, either because I was suicidal or I hadn’t had enough shoes drop on my head. “Why are you here?”

“Kitten,” Jett said making Samson growl low and long. Jett ignored him, but I noticed Gregor flick his eyes between Samson and Jett and then me, putting it all together. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t come?”

“Well, yeah,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jett took a step toward me. It took all I had not to step back. And the fact that a bar top was between him and me didn’t even factor into my tuck tail and run plan.

“You are still my vampire,” Jett said.

“In what universe?” I asked. The amor certamen was over. I hadn’t joined his line. He was merely the vampire in charge of the city I chose to reside in.

“Do you turn your back on your family and friends so easily?” Jett asked.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Auckland is your home. Your kin’s home. Auckland is mine.”

I sighed. “That doesn’t make me your vampire, Jett.”

He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t make me prove it,” he said softly. “You won’t like what I would be forced to do.”

Did he just threaten me?

“Screw you,” I said and started for the door of the club. Night was almost here; if I was careful and used the shadows, I could make it some distance before he was done with Gregor.

Of course, I probably should have waited until he and Gregor were out of the room.

Jett flashed to stand before me, blocking my path. Samson shifted, but I held up a hand and stalled him. Thank Nut for Samson’s gentlemanly nature, because he hesitated long enough for me to set the tone for this confrontation.

“I don’t care why you’re here, Jett. I have a rogue to hunt. And if you get in my way, so help me God, I will stake you. Don’t make me prove it. You won’t like what I would be forced to do.”

His lips twitched. Why was it that he always found me funny when what I’d been going for was threatening, or at the very least, annoying? Having my words thrown back at me always annoyed me. But Jett Vardi had to be different, didn’t he?

“This is not over,” he whispered and flashed across the room to where Gregor waited.

I watched them leave through the back door and disappear down a dark hallway, and then I turned toward the exit.

“I’m coming with you,” Amisi announced.

Jett couldn’t make me stumble. Gregor couldn’t either. But Amisi saying that certainly did.

“Wh…what?” I stammered.

“You’re hunting a rogue. That’s what I do best. And don’t tell me you can’t use the backup.”

She stood with her hands on her hips and a defiant look in her eyes.

“Georgia,” Samson said as if he were trying to convince me this was a good idea.

It was a good idea; I didn’t need Samson telling me that. But I’d never worked as a team before. Even when Lucinda had still been in Auckland, we’d hunted separately. Often crossed paths on the same hunt, but never stuck around long enough to high five when the dust had settled.

This would be different, and I wasn’t sure that I was any good at being a team player.

“I can tell you more about kindred joinings,” she offered.

“There’s more?”

“Yeah. And you need to know it.”

That didn’t sound good. But she had a point.

“All right, then,” I said, making out that I was doing her a favour, “you can tag along. But don’t get in my way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said with a beatific smile.

I blinked at her. Did nothing get this woman down?

Shaking my head, I started toward the exit. I didn’t make it.

Samson stepped into my line of sight. I braced for some show of machoism; some alpha male display. I should have known better; this was Samson, not Jett.

“Babe,” he said and reached up to cup my face. “We will meet again at dawn’s first light. You have my word.”

I covered his hand with my own and stared into chocolate and cinnamon eyes. I could have stared at him all night, but the moon had risen, and my Sire was out there. And sooner or later, the press would identify the vampire in that image up on the TV. And somewhere a fairy was messing with MPs’ minds.

We didn’t have time for this but try as I might, I couldn’t leave without touching him. Feeling him. Scenting him.

Freshly baked bread, woodsmoke and newly cut grass.

Samson’s love swept out to surround me, to blanket me in such wondrous tastes and smells. My whole body reacted, my lips parted on a blissful sigh, my muscles smoothed and my limbs felt pliant. I leaned into him and inhaled deeply; the Dark Shadow right there with me. Samson tipped his face down and rested his forehead against mine.

“Mate,” he said. Somehow that said everything.

Had I truly thought I could fight this? Had I really believed that what I felt for Samson was gone? I’d tried so hard to be true to myself, to protect what was left of my battered heart. The effort had damn near killed me. I hadn’t asked for any of this, but then neither had Samson. I understood now. I’d made my peace with it even if I was about to head out and hunt down the vampire who’d made me; who’d set the ball in motion for what I was now.

There’d never been a possibility that things would have gone differently between Samson and me.

Our paths had been destined from the start.

“Mate,” I said softly.

His hand at the back of my neck pulled me closer; we tipped our faces back and pressed our lips together. The kiss was at once intimate and bittersweet.

“Don’t go getting dead,” I said as we parted.

“We have a date come dawn,” he reminded me. And for a moment I saw the wicked intent in his eyes; his vampire would claim me then.

And I would not fight it. I would embrace it.

It felt liberating.

It felt life-affirming.

It felt bigger than anything I had ever faced before and yet I sent a prayer up to Nut that we’d both make it to dawn alive. Because thinking otherwise would have destroyed me right then.

I stepped back, checked my stake was settled in my jacket pocket, ran a hand through my hair, smoothing out any kinks. Then finally met Samson’s eyes. It was him and not his vampire that looked back, but there was no denying that Samson was mostly vampire in that stretched out moment that seemed to go on forever but was only a second or two long at most.

And then he flashed away; taking the exit before I could. Bleeding into the night, a Dark figure about to do Dark deeds.

For a second I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel anything other than a tightness around my chest. A pain in the centre where my heart should have been.

“Are you all right?” Amisi asked softly from behind me.

I spun and faced the Nosferatin, having forgotten she had been there at all. I realised too late that I’d drawn my stake and although not brandishing it at her, it was clear that I felt threatened by her presence.

“Easy, sister,” she murmured. “I sense your pain.”

I saw them then; tears in her eyes. A sadness and fear that matched mine.

“I’m an empath,” she said.

“You scent emotions?”

She cocked her head to the side and studied me. “Is that how you do it?”

I nodded.

“For me, it’s a feeling, a shadow of what I would feel myself but no less powerful for its ability to touch me. I have learned to ignore it for the most part, but occasionally emotions can be so pure, so strong, that ignoring them is impossible.”

I could choose to scent an emotion or not. Amisi suffered without an on/off switch at her command.

“That sucks,” I said.

She shrugged; an elegant shift of her shoulders. “I have become accustomed to it.”

I doubted that, but I also didn’t call her on it.

“Shall we do this?” I asked instead.

“Yes.” She started through the door. “What do I need to know about your Sire?”

“Number one: Don’t call him that. He is no Sire to me.”

“He cannot call you to him?”

I grimaced. “Not as a master would its progeny. But we do have a connection of sorts.”

“If we find him, what should I expect? Can he control you?”

I liked that Amisi asked the tough questions in a detached professional kind of way. But I hated exposing myself to her. Even so, I had more in common with this Nosferatin than I did with any other. Not that I’d had much in common with Lucinda other than her goddess.

“No,” I growled. “I can hold my own.”

He is not worthy, the Dark Shadow said.

“But he’s powerful,” I added, answering both Amisi and my vampire-within.

“A master turned rogue. I am not surprised. You are powerful for one so young.”

“That’s all Nut,” I offered. “I refuse to give Xavier any credit for my strength.”

“And yet Xavier’s blood runs through your veins.”

I turned to glower at the woman. She held my stare with a steady one of her own.

“Nut is the goddess of Light, Georgia,” she said. “You have much Dark in you from him.”

“You can see it?”

“I see your aura. It is confused; mixed.”

“Could’ve told you that.”

“It Lightens around Samson.”

I was almost afraid to ask, but I’m no coward.

“And Samson’s aura?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

I did. Her reaction when she first saw him in Wellington said it all. He was Darker than he should have been considering he was Lucinda’s vampire.

“Please don’t tell her,” I whispered.

“I am not in the habit of sharing someone’s secrets,” she said.

I studied her, tried to scent the lie. There was none.

“Lucinda’s your friend,” I pointed out.

“Lucinda is like a sister to me,” she agreed. “But that does not mean I tell her everything.”

“Does everyone have secrets in this damn supernatural world?” I demanded.

She smiled, then started laughing. Amisi had a throaty, sexy laugh; no wonder Gregor was enamoured. “Of course we do, Georgia,” she said. “Never show fear. Never give an inch. Always stay on guard.”

“What’s that? Some supernatural voodoo mumbo-jumbo?”

“It’s the Nosferatin mantra. Lesson one of your crash course in kindred joinings and all things that go bump in the night. Never show fear. Never give an inch. Always stay on guard.”

“Is that what you do with Gregor?” I pushed.

Amisi looked away. “Gregor is not my kindred, but yes, that is exactly what I do with the Master of Wellington City.”

Could have fooled me but I didn’t say that.

Plus, hello? They weren’t kindred joined? They were sure as hell doing the nasty. No one looked at a woman like that if they didn’t know what she looked like naked.

“So, tell me about this kindred joining thing,” I said, as we walked along Lambton Quay with the usual evening crowd.

“It is a requirement for all Nosferatin to join with a kindred vampire by the age of twenty-five.”

“What?” I practically shouted. “Who told you that?”

She smiled at my outburst, but I saw the understanding in her eyes.

“History. Nut. My kin. All of the above. Should we fail to find a kindred to join with by one moon’s turn after we reach the age of twenty-five…then we die.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “I was turned a whole year after I reached twenty-five.”

“Which would lead me to believe a kindred joining is not necessary in your case.”

“But possible.”

“It is Nut’s gift to us.”

I shook my head. “Gift? How is it a gift?”

“There is much to be gained from a kindred joining. Least of which is kin. The vampire becomes your family. His or her line becomes your support network. The joining creates an urge to protect, to care for, to stay close to each other to better ensure the other’s safety at all times. Together we are stronger, apart we grow weak.”

“I like being alone.”

“You do not have to give up your independence. But wouldn’t you like to have someone to lean on from time to time, too?”

Jeez, I’d only just let Samson back in and I was in love with the damn man. How the hell did I join with a vampire and make him or her my family, too?

“Could Samson be my kindred?” I asked.

“Perhaps. He would have to test it.”

“Test it?”

“A vampire, when they know how, can test their kindred compatibility with a Nosferatin by using their Sanguis Vitam to say the name of our kind.”

“They simply say Nosferatin and splash around some vampire mojo, and they know?” I snorted. It sounded ridiculous.

“It is an extremely private thing and should only be undertaken with consent from the Nosferatin.”

“How’s that working for you? They are vampires.”

“It is an insult to do so without permission.”

“But I’m guessing it happens.”

“It can,” she muttered, sounding entirely put out by the notion. “In any case, the Nosferatin’s reaction is personal to their potential in joining. How one reacts to one vampire may not be the same for another. It is an indication of what sort of relationship they will have.”

“What sort of…You mean how intimate they will be?”

“In a way.”

“Great.”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“How did you react to Gregor?”

She bit her bottom lip and looked away.

“I’m sorry,” I demurred. “I know it’s private. But I need an example here. Did you swoon? Did you kick his butt? What? Help a sister out, why dontcha? I’ve gotta know what to expect.”

“Anything,” she murmured. “Expect anything at all.”

The subject had officially been closed.

I studied her out of the corner of my eye. Amisi’s face was flushed, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. There was history there. Some juicy bit of gossip. But I found myself giving the Nosferatin space. I respected her, I realised. I liked her. Somehow it was easier talking to her than to Lucinda about all of this.

Of course, Lucinda should have told me, given me a heads up at the least, but that might have had something to do with the fact that I’d avoided her for the past two months.

It sucked to see yourself so clearly.

“OK,” I said, prepared to get us off the topic of kindred joinings, “I’m going to go with the assumption that I can avoid that shit. So, Xavier. His signature scent is slightly burnt peaches, apple and cinnamon. He can look like a rogue, all long, matted hair and red eyes. Or he could be impeccably dressed with his hair and teeth brushed just right. He’s a mixed up fucker. I guess I get that from him.”

“You should not be so hard on yourself,” Amisi said. “You’re doing quite well, considering.”

“You know,” I said, as we came out onto Queens Wharf. “You’re the first person to say that to me.”

“It is the truth.” I doubted that Amisi told many lies. I certainly couldn’t smell one on her. It made for a refreshing change.

Not that Lucinda lied as such, but I always felt with Lucinda that she wasn’t saying exactly what was on her mind. That could have been the fact that she was used to keeping things close to her chest around vampires and I am part vampire, so that would make sense. But I chose to believe she just didn’t trust me with all the info she had.

It didn’t make it easy to open up to her as I had been to Amisi.

“Will he come to you?” Amisi asked when I’d been quiet for a bit too long. She meant Xavier. I corrected myself; she meant the rogue.

“He’s here,” I offered. “I’m sure of it. I have no idea where, so the best bet is to be visible and wait.”

“That bar,” Amisi said, pointing to a hipster establishment down by the waterfront. “Let’s grab a drink, and you can tell me all about Samson.”

“Not on your life,” I muttered, following behind the woman as she laughed.

It suddenly made me miss Kara. I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and checked the screen. She hadn’t messaged me. She hadn’t told me she’d arrived on the Gold Coast safely. I flicked a text off to her, but by the time we sat down with two Vanilla Vodkas in hand, Kara still hadn’t answered me.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. She should have been safe. No one should have known where I’d sent her. But if Xavier wanted my cooperation, taking Kara was a surefire way to get it.

I checked the cellphone screen again. Still nothing. Then I opened the message app and hovered my finger over another name. If Xavier took my parents would I come running?

I’d like to think I wouldn’t. What had my father ever done for me?

I stared at his name, neatly printed on the cellphone’s screen, nothing to indicate that we were related other than the same surname. Then I closed the phone and slipped it away inside my jacket.

My father could look after himself. He’d done a bang-up job of it for forty odd years; he could do it for another forty without me.

“There is a Darkness to the air tonight,” Amisi said from across the table from me.

I hoped that wasn’t Samson throwing around his Sanguis Vitam on the MPs.

“It has a strange taint to it,” she added.

“How so?” I asked, wanting something to focus on other than my absent best friend and my shit of a father.

Amisi shook her head, making her long, straight locks swish around her shoulders.

“I’m not sure; I don’t recognise it. It’s not a Darkness I have ever hunted before.”

“Could be Xavier,” I offered with a shrug. On that happy thought, I took a large swallow of my mixer.

“No,” Amisi said, sounding distant, as if she were somewhere else, assessing auras or something. “It’s strange. It’s…not of this world.”

Oh, that did not sound good at all.

“Tell me it’s not shaped like a fucking shoe,” I growled.

“A shoe?” she said, sounding confused.

“Yeah, one that’s about to drop.”

She smiled and then the smile vanished.

I inhaled. Ink and crisp parchment. Apple mixed with lime. Which swiftly became bold grapefruit and lime. Amisi was at first curious, then confused, and lastly concerned.

But that’s not all I scented.

I scented wet dog. I scented peaches and ozone. I scented my Sire.

“They’re here,” I said.

“Yes,” Amisi replied. “He has come prepared.”

He’d brought a fucking army.

I looked across the table at the Nosferatin with me; my backup for this epic fight.

Amisi looked determined and focused and not the slightest bit scared.

But, of course, I had a way around her Nosferatin never-show-fear mask.

The scent of bittersweet chocolate filled the air. And it wasn’t all mine.

23

Crazed

There was more than one fairy here. But that wasn’t what made my hackles rise. There was more than one fairy with the same scent.

Which was impossible. Ridiculous even. Signature scents didn’t work that way.

I spent a few precious moments searching deeper. Pulling back layers of scents and peering beneath them. I recognised the scent from the abduction scenes, both in Auckland and Wellington. The same fairy - or as the case was proving to be, fairies - that had been at those scenes was also here.

But there was more than one of them.

I shook my head. I’d never had my talent let me down like this before. For a moment I wasn’t sure what to do. What to think.

“What is it?” Amisi asked from beside me.

We’d taken our drinks and made our way to the standing-room-only section of the outside bar area. There was a low-lying picket fence that performed the duty of demarcation. On one side, the public strolled by freely. On the other, the bar’s patrons could legally consume their alcoholic drinks while watching them.

It would be the work of a second to step over it and take your libation with you. Yet not a soul challenged that faux fence. I sipped my drink and watched the shadows.

And unfortunately saw nothing.

But my nose told me otherwise.

“They smell the same to me,” I said quietly.

“The fairies?”

“Yep.”

“That is unusual, but not impossible for a member of the Fey to do.”

“So, it’s a mask?”

“I would think so. Signature scents are unique. And the Fey are crafty.”

“Light Fey,” I said.

Amisi arched her brow. “They are particularly adept at playing tricks on people. It’s their most favoured pastime.”

Great.

“How many?” she asked.

I couldn’t have been more relieved that Amisi was giving me a direction to follow. I felt a little lost at sea. If I couldn’t count on my Hundr abilities, then what good was I? But even though the fairies all smelled the same to me, I could tell there was more than one present.

“Twelve,” I said after a while of cataloguing.

“Twelve,” she repeated, not sounding happy.

“Not good odds,” I pointed out.

“And that’s not including the shapeshifters.”

No, it wasn’t. And there was at least a dozen of those, too.

“Let’s do this,” I said, and put down my drink.

All credit to Amisi; she followed behind me without uttering an objection. This was shaping up to be a suicide mission. My Sire wanted me, but Amisi meant nothing to him. He could easily order the Taniwha or the fairies to take her out. But Amisi walked beside me; my equal, my backup. My kin. We weren’t related, I wasn’t even fully Nosferatin, but at that moment, Amisi was my sister and walked this treacherous path with me.

Xavier stepped out of the shadows as we approached, shedding them as if they were an unwanted coat. He strode across the pedestrian mall toward us, his eyes on my face only. He was Master Xavier today. Not the Rogue.

“Powerful,” Amisi whispered.

Yeah. I didn’t need to confirm that to make it true. Xavier was a level one Sanguis Vitam vampire. But all that power had made him batshit crazy.

“Daughter,” he said.

“Rogue,” I replied.

“Not today.” Crazy arsed bastard. “You brought a friend.” His eyes scanned Amisi and instantly dismissed her. More fool him. “I am surprised you risk showing your face,” he said, once his attention was back on me.

“Your party tricks won’t work for long. The Norms are too desensitised to fantasy.”

“I have more tricks, little one.”

“Do they involve fairies?”

His face darkened briefly, but he made a valiant effort to mask his reaction. I inhaled and scented burnt coffee and out-of-date milk. Xavier did not like the Fey he’d chosen to work with.

Boohoo. Fuck him.

“Why don’t they show themselves?” I said.

“They will when they are ready.”

That sounded wrong to my ears. I couldn’t pinpoint why.

“So, what do you want?” I asked.

If I kept him talking, then backup might arrive. I couldn’t believe that Gregor would not be aware of this amount of power in his city. Even if he were busy with the press, he would spare a moment for his Nosferatin. I thought perhaps that Gregor would do anything for Amisi as long as their interests continued to align.

“It is not what I want,” Xavier said, “but what is required.”

And OK, he was starting to make no sense at all, not that he’d been intelligible when he’d been a rogue. But he wasn’t in rogue-mode right now, so he should have been making some sort of sense. I studied him. I couldn’t see the red creeping into his eyes or the drool beginning to form; he wasn’t about to freak out on me. He was as stable as Xavier ever got.

“And what’s required?” I asked, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on here.

“Payment,” he murmured and struck out with his hand toward my throat.

I leapt back, just as Amisi leapt forward. Xavier missed my windpipe by millimetres. Amisi missed his heart by about the same amount. Her stake glinted in the artificial light from the street lamps nearby. She hid it again in the next instant, no doubt considering the reaction of the Norms.

And wouldn’t you know it, a guy started to head in our direction, breaking off from a rowdy crowd over by a pub.

“You ladies need some help?” he called, drawing more and more attention to us.

Go away, I willed, but my talents didn’t stretch that far.

“We’re fine,” Amisi said. “Just an argument between friends.”

“You sure? He looked like he was trying to hit one of you.”

“Yeah, but I hit him back,” she said with a sweet smile.

I wanted to laugh, but the fairies had shifted. The Taniwha were still where they had been from the start. Grouped together, not moving; as if they were only present for the threat of what they could do not to actually do something. It didn’t make sense. The Taniwha I’d met up in the Rimutaka Ranges had been compulsive and more than willing to go head to head with a vampire. Perhaps Gregor’s threats had contained them.

But then, why were they here if they were scared of the Master of the City?

I looked at Xavier. Amisi was getting rid of the Norm. Something wasn’t right here.

Xavier looked back and smiled. It was full of secrets.

Damn it; I’d had enough of those.

“Help me out,” I said, not looking at Amisi when I said it.

I let a little of my Light out, waiting for her to catch on. She did and quickly. Our Light entwined and grew bigger, brighter, more spectacular. This was all way too public for my liking, and I was sure several of those drunken and disorderly over by the pub had their cellphone cameras out. Which made me pull mine and pretend it was the device making all the sparkles appear in the air and not my supernatural freakish Nothus powers.

Our Light merged and became one, and then swept out across the wharf towards the fairies. I directed it, but Amisi let me. Together our Light was stronger.

And it was like meth to a junkie. Or Light to a Ljósálfar.

A fairy stepped out from the shadows. And then another and another.

At first, I was just stunned that it was working.

And then I was just confused at what I was seeing.

These were no pansy-arsed fairies. These were warriors. And all women.

They were dressed in leather armour, with bows on their backs and long swords on their curved hips. Their silver hair was braided in a single, long strand over their shoulders, and crowns of thorns adorned their heads. Their eyes were a vivid green, an unnaturally bright colour. They chimed, which started to grate on me, making my hold on Amisi’s and my Light falter.

Amisi urged me on, no doubt thinking like I was that to give in now could mean our deaths. The Norms had all stopped what they were doing and were swaying to the fairies’ song. I gritted my teeth and shook my head and forced my muscles not to move a single inch, all of which worked some of the time but not all of it.

I swayed and lurched and then ramped up my Light some more, while the warrior women all stepped forward en masse and soaked up the Light we fed them.

“Was this a really bad idea?” I managed to growl out of the side of my mouth at Amisi.

“Probably,” she gasped back. Sweat beaded her brow, her hair lay damp against her dark skin. This was taking a toll on the Nosferatin. More so than it was on me. She couldn’t keep this up for much longer; we needed a plan. A way to break this standoff and get the hell out of here.

I was pretty damn sure that the two of us alone against a dozen Light Fey Warrior Princesses was just not going to cut it.

We needed something, but all I could do was hold onto my Light and resist their chiming charm.

I flicked my eyes to Xavier. He was still. Vampire still. Preternaturally still. He wasn’t even breathing. Was he used to their magic? Did he just give up when they did this in large numbers? Who was in control here?

Not him.

I looked back at the fairies. One of them met my gaze. She alone seemed bigger than the rest. Not in stature, they were all pretty much the same shape. Tall, thin but curvy, beautiful. Stunning really. Their bodies lured you in as much as their beautiful faces, and musical chimes did.

“Who are you?” I growled, the Dark Shadow lending me some of her Sanguis Vitam. It helped, but it also made Amisi’s and my Light dim.

The fairies all stepped forward as one.

Spooky.

“Creature,” the lead warrior wench said. “You have a debt to pay.”

I did? I looked at Xavier. He was otherwise not present. I quickly returned my attention to the fairy before me.

“Says who?” I snapped.

“You have been judged an enemy of the crown,” she intoned, the chimes as she spoke rung out around the courtyard we were in. It took everything in me to resist them.

“Says a fairy,” I muttered.

“Says the true Queen.”

Isoleth. Sofiq would have used Aliath to send home a message. This was all about the Light Queen. The ruler of the Ljósálfar. And could only be in relation to one thing.

“The spies,” I whispered.

“Our emissaries.”

Bullshit. They were spying their little fairy butts off in Dökkálfa. There was no attempt at opening a dialogue between the two sides that made up Faerie. The Light wanted the Dark back under their control; imprisoned like they’d been imprisoned for centuries. Aliath and his fucked-in-the-head monarch thought differently about that plan.

“Sorry, not sorry, about that,” I said, smirking.

It was the last thing I did before she notched an arrow in her bow and let it fly toward me.

I let go of all that Light and spun. Amisi collapsed to the ground where she’d been standing. And the arrow missed where she’d fallen by mere centimetres.

Too close, I thought as I continued the spin and pulled my stake out.

Silver didn’t hurt a fairy, but the stake was sharp, and it could do some damage.

The fairy notched another arrow and tracked me through the air as if I wasn’t flying through space at faster than the speed of sound. The arrow released and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I couldn’t stop mid-spin. I couldn’t change trajectory because my feet weren’t touching the ground. I’d put this moment in motion when I’d decided I could bum-rush a fairy, believing them slower than I was.

She wasn’t. Her aim was true. The arrow hit me square in the chest.

The concrete was cold. My blood felt too hot as it pooled beneath me. A ringing started up in my ears, but that could have been the fairies chiming. I panted for breath I didn’t need, but my body wanted anyway and blinked up into the too green eyes of the bitch who had shot me through the heart with a silver-tipped arrow.

“She is not dead,” the fairy said, cocking her head to the side like Aliath did. Like a bird.

“She should be dead,” another fairy bitch commented mildly.

“The silver was forged by the Smith himself.”

“Perhaps it was a dud.”

“The Smith never fails us.”

“It has been years.”

“Too many.”

“Too many.”

“Too many.”

“What now?”

“The Queen wants her head. Perhaps parting it from her body will do the deed.”

“She is vampyre. To remove her head would be to destroy it.”

“She has Light. She is not vampyre.”

“She is a creature.”

“A creature.”

“A creature.”

“A creature.”

“We take her with us,” the first fairy said.

“I do not wish to touch her,” another murmured.

“We are Valkyrjur. We do not shy from anything.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

“The hunt is complete. Release the hounds. They have served their purpose.”

“And the vampyre?”

“Our Queen favours him. Perhaps he will be a sufficient gift for our failure.”

“Failure.”

“Failure.”

“Failure.”

“We are Valkyrjur. We do not fail.”

“Yes.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

“Call a portal.”

“It is done.”

“Take the creature.”

My body was lifted on hands tipped in sharp claws. I scented the blood as my skin parted beneath their fingers.

“Someone comes.”

“Who?”

“Vampyre. Hurry.”

“Take the gift. Leave the hounds. No. Make them attack the vampyre who approaches.”

“It is done.”

“To Valhöll! The Valkyrjur ride again.”

“Ride again.”

“Ride again.”

“Ride again.”

I tried to inhale anything other than peaches and ozone, but the scent of the fairies who carried me overpowered all else. My Dark Shadow growled loud inside my head, urging me to fight, to use her Sanguis Vitam, but I’d lost too much blood. She threatened to take over. I wanted her to, but even though she tried, something stopped her from completing the transition. I remained present, in pain, scared. The scent of my fear was mixed in with the peaches and ozone, but it smelled all the same to me.

Faery. Álfheimr.

I knew the instant we’d left Earth. The moment Ljósálfar surrounded. Whoever the vampire was who’d come to our aid had arrived too late. I didn’t know if it was Samson or Gregor or Jett. Whoever it was, though, would have had a dozen Taniwha to battle. The chances of them surviving were slim.

I pushed the gnawing worry of that aside and concentrated on my surroundings.

Somewhere along the way I lost some time. The world had shifted. The sweet scent of fresh air had been replaced with a dampness that smelled rotten. And bloody. Wherever the warrior bitches had taken me, it was enclosed and smelled like a freshly dug grave.

Dungeons, the Dark Shadow said.

What else? I asked. I couldn’t see properly for some reason. I wasn’t sure the Dark Shadow could, but she seemed more in charge of her faculties than I was.

We are not alone. Our Sire is also here.

In the dungeon?

In a cell beside us. Not our cell or I would have brought him the final death.

Big talk from the big bad vampire-within. I tested our connection. There was still no way for her to take over and she had been trying.

Weak, she spat.

Fuck you, I spat back.

She said nothing, fuming in her own silence. I rolled over and sucked in the damp earth beneath my cheek. And then felt around for a weapon. My silver dagger had been removed. The stake was long gone. I had nothing. Other than my fangs, which were down and out what with how close to the surface the Dark Shadow was.

But things were looking up because they hadn’t bound me.

I flopped onto my back and stared up at the cavernous ceiling. The dungeons were underground in what had to be a cave beneath Isoleth’s castle. If she had a castle, and I couldn’t see the pretentious Fey having anything but a castle for their ‘true Queen.’

I reached for my Light and felt a searing pain pierce my skull.

Stupid, the Dark Shadow said.

What? I mumbled, holding my head to stop it from splitting.

The cell is coated with magic. Your Light is useless here.

Sanguis Vitam?

She said nothing. Maybe she’d been stupid and reached for it while I’d been unconscious as they brought me here.

We are trapped, she eventually said.

Not for long, I muttered and pulled myself upright.

I stared into the dim shadows of the cell beside us. I could sense him there. I couldn’t scent him, I was too depleted, and my head hurt like fuck. But I knew Xavier was watching me as I was watching him.

“Not so all powerful now are you, Rogue,” I said.

“Daughter,” he rasped. He sounded awful.

How long was I out?

Hours.

Fuck-a-spit-roasted-duck. We were so screwed.

What’s wrong with him?

He returned to his cell like this.

From where?

The Queen.

Shit. I did not feel compassion for the prick. I refused to.

“Got a plan to get us out of here?” I said aloud. To him. To her. Whatever.

“There is no escape,” Xavier said. The dullness in his tone spoke volumes.

“You signed a contract with the devil, didn’t you?”

“They are Fey. They trick.”

“I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I am not what I once was.”

I snorted. Preaching to the choir, vampire.

I looked around the dank and dark cavern, at the thick iron bars that marked out my six-foot by six-foot cell. At the shadows that hung as though filled with something watchful. At the dried blood that coated the floors and walls. This was a torture chamber. A fucking skeleton made up the decoration in the cell opposite.

I started to laugh. It was entirely unhinged, but right then, I welcomed the sound. It was also a big Fuck You to the fairies who were undoubtedly watching. Watching and waiting for me to crack under the pressure.

Well, my Sire was a Rogue, and I was a mixed up halfbreed. Crazy ran through my veins. They’d better get used to it.

What are you doing? my Dark Shadow asked.

Laughing in the face of death.

She said nothing, and then she started to laugh with me.

After a while, Xavier joined in.

I could have sworn the shadows shuddered. It did sound hella creepy.

But not as creepy as the dungeons we were trapped in.

24

Puzzled

A chain rattled, waking me. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep, but my throat was parched, and little bits of dirt and pebbles had embedded in my cheek where I’d been lying on the floor of my cell. I offered a quick glance at Xavier’s cell. At some time during the past few hours, he’d been taken away again. And had returned a little worse for wear.

I had the disconcerting feeling that they were slowly chipping away at him as if he were an ice sculpture they wanted to shape into something new. Each time he came back something more was wrong with him and yet he hadn’t turned rogue.

Turning rogue would have offered a respite. They didn’t even let him have that.

Bitches.

One of the warrior princesses stepped into view. She was still dressed in her leather armour and wore the sword on her hip, but the bow and arrows had been removed. She walked past my cell without sparing me a glance. She stepped with grace and beauty making a mockery of the dark, dank dungeon we were in.

I watched her walk out of sight and then heard another chain rattle.

How many people in here do you think? I asked the Dark Shadow.

I cannot tell.

None of our talents were working.

I pushed up off the ground and walked to the bars, wrapping my hands around them. They were definitely iron but coated in silver. Both materials had no effect on me, but the cell was steeped in Fey magic, and that worked.

The warrior woman walked back down the central hallway, from where the chain had rattled. A small smear of blood marred her creamy cheek. I smiled. It showed fang. She ignored me.

“Bet it’s a bitch to get blood out of leather,” I said as she came abreast of my cell.

Too green eyes swung to stare at me. There was something inherently unnatural in them.

“Creature,” she said. “You handle silver.”

Her eyes darted down to where I held onto the bars of the cell.

“And iron,” I said, tapping my fingers one by one on the bars. “But you’ve covered all your bases, haven’t you? Iron. Silver. And magic.”

“There is no escape,” she said. “None has achieved it in thousands of years. Valhöll is secure.”

“Is that what you call the true Queen’s castle?

She smiled. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My Dark Shadow flexed her claws and dug them in deep. I sucked in a breath of air, blinking.

“You are in Valhöll,” she said, instead of answering me.

She turned away without adding more, and my pride forced me not to beg for water or something to eat.

“How long’s it been?” I asked aloud.

“Time is irrelevant in here,” Xavier said from his cell.

“Did they feed you?”

He laughed. It was bitter and sounded a little too wet for my liking. Xavier might be responsible for making me what I am, and he was a conniving, murderous bastard at the best of times, but if he died, I’d be alone in here. His company was better than nothing.

“Of course not. They do not feed their prisoners. They feed from them.”

“What do the Ljósálfar eat?” I asked.

“Ljós. Light. And whatever makes them happy.”

I studied his shadowed form. He wasn’t using his Shadow Walking talent, even if the cell wasn’t coated in silver and magic, he was looking way too weak to be able to do that. But the cells were naturally dark, and he was curled up in the far corner; as if he wanted to get as far away from me as well as the warrior women.

“Do you even have any Light?” I asked.

Two red-rimmed eyes lifted to stare at me.

“I make them happy.”

And that sounded a bit too disturbing.

“So,” I said, having to look away from all that creepiness, “if we’re not in Isoleth’s castle, where are we?”

“Everywhere and nowhere. Valhöll is both in Ljósálfar and not. Some say it’s attached to Fólkvangr.”

“I don’t speak fairy,” I growled.

“Elysium, little one. Odin’s realm. Not Nut’s.”

Fuck me.

I turned away and started to pace.

“There is no escape,” Xavier said as if reading my mind.

“You might have given up, but I haven’t.”

“You think I didn’t try at first?”

“Clearly, not hard enough.”

“I’ve been here for centuries, Daughter. My only escape is when they let me out. And then I am leashed to one of them for the duration.”

I stopped pacing and turned slowly to look back at him.

“Centuries,” I murmured.

That didn’t make any sense. I’d been what I was for two - no, probably more like three now - months. He’d turned me. Well, he tried, but it went wrong.

Did it go wrong because of the fairies?

Did he turn me because they made him do it?

I sank down to the dirt floor, my legs suddenly weak.

“Why did you turn me?” I whispered.

“My last attempt at escaping,” was all he said.

His last attempt at escaping was to create me. What did he expect would happen?

I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath of air I didn’t need.

“You thought I’d come when you called, and I’d get you out of here,” I said.

“Their attention was elsewhere, I had but a minute or two to act. You happened to be the closest human I could reach with enough Light to survive the turning.”

“I didn’t survive!” I snapped.

“No, you became something other.”

I shook my head and then grabbed fistfuls of hair and tried to breathe without screaming my throat hoarse.

“Got to hell, Xavier,” I muttered.

“I am already there. Valhöll is just an antechamber. When Odin calls not even Nut can save us.”

“Could she save us now?”

“Stop clinging to false hope! There is no escaping!”

I refused to believe that.

I lay back down on the dirt floor and studied the cavern’s ceiling. The way I saw it, I had two options. Dig myself out of here or force the warrior bitches to open my cell door and make a mistake. Of the two, I thought digging was the safer bet. But magic coated the floor and ceiling; my only options for manual labour.

Still, I wasn’t as far gone as Xavier was. I wouldn’t need to feed for another couple of days. Of course, the part of me that is still human could have done with a glass of water. I narrowed my eyes at the rear wall of my cell. It was damper back there. There had to be moisture of some sort.

Scrambling up to my feet, I approached the earthen structure behind the iron bars. A trickle of something shiny dribbled down one portion. I put my finger to it and then licked the tip. It tasted dirty, but it was definitely water of some description. I just needed to collect it.

I stared down at what I was wearing. Jeans. T-shirt. No shoes or belt, but they hadn’t taken my necklace. Which happened to be an enamelled, oversized marijuana leaf. I detached it from the chain and started to work it into a bowl-type arrangement. I’d got so used to wearing kitschy adornments, that I’d forgotten this one was my latest effort to get Doug to cringe. But although Doug hadn’t seen it, I was glad for the little game we played.

The leaf when done looked ridiculous, but when I placed it at the base of the wall where the water ran down, it started to gather moisture. It would be a while before I had enough to drink. Having achieved something productive, I rubbed my hands together and looked around the rest of the cell.

Xavier hadn’t said a word while I’d been doctoring my marijuana leaf. But I sensed his eyes on me.

I paced the cell, checking the magic for weaknesses. Every time I stopped and tested reaching for my Light, a sharp shard of pain pierced through my skull directly into my brain making me suppress a moan. By the time I’d made it all the way around and not found a millimetre gap in the Fey protection spell, I was sweating, shaking, and growling uncontrollably.

The only saving grace was that there was enough water in the leaf for me to drink.

I sipped my libation and stared at the door to the cell. Sanguis Vitam and Light were both out, but was brute strength?

I didn’t have a chance to test that theory, because right then three warrior women stepped into view. What annoyed me the most about this entire situation was that they didn’t come through a door that creaked and warned you they were about to walk in on your private moment. They simply appeared out of thin air and stepped into view.

It was hard not to jump, but I managed.

“Hi,” I said when what I wanted to do was squeak.

“Creature,” one of them said.

She was the one in charge from back in Wellington, I noted. Although they all wore the same outfit and carried themselves the same way, they did have distinguishing features. This one had a pointed chin that marred her beauty slightly. And her eyes were too close together, but that might have been me just being uncharitable.

“Warrior woman,” I said in reply.

“I am Valkyrja.”

“Is that your name?” It sounded a bit too much like what they’d called themselves back on Earth.

“My name is Heliqa. I am Herra of the Valkyrjur.”

A cold chill washed through me. Aliath called himself Herra of the Hár Lords. It meant Lord or Elder or something. It definitely meant the one in charge.

“Are you a princess?” I asked. Aliath was also a Prince of Dökkálfa.

“We are all Odin’s children.” She indicated the two women with her.

But I wasn’t sure that was an answer. I didn’t know who Odin was. Other than what Xavier had said about him being in the Fey equivalent of Elysium.

“OK,” I said. “What now?”

“The Queen wishes to meet you,” Heliqa said. She tilted her head to the side and studied what I was wearing. “But first we must make you presentable.”

I wasn’t sure what I feared most. Meeting the Queen. Or what these warrior women called presentable. Somehow I doubted it would include leather armour and a shiny sword on my hip.

She waved her hand in front of the cell, and it opened inward. Well away from touching her Fey skin. Fairies didn’t like iron I was guessing. They sure as hell loved silver.

All three women stood back to let me out of the cell, the silver in their hair glinting in the flames from nearby torches. The door to the cell clanged shut behind me, and I spun to look at what had been until that moment a prison but also something to call my own. I had no idea where they would take me, but I had to stop acting like a prisoner and gather as much intel as I could manage.

“Great,” I said. “This way?” And started marching toward where they had come from.

One second I was walking through the dank dungeon, the next I was stepping into a great hall.

The shock of it almost made me stumble. But when I felt something settle on my wrist, I stopped moving altogether. A beautiful bracelet wrapped around my right arm. Silver with intricate engravings. I hadn’t even seen one of the women move. It had simply appeared as soon as I had materialised in this great hall.

I didn’t reach for my Light to know I still couldn’t touch it. The bracelet had replaced the cell.

I looked up and noted a few of the warrior women’s kin were dotted about the place. A couple were sparring with swords but had stopped at my appearance. One was lounging on a sofa eating grapes. Another was reading. Three were playing cards at the table.

“This way,” Heliqa said, moving off toward a door at the rear of the hall.

“Don’t mind me,” I said as I walked past the staring fairies. “You guys don’t like men much, huh?” I added, noting their absence as I studied each female face.

They were definitely the warrior women from back in Wellington. Valkyrjur she had called them.

My steps slowed. I looked around the walls at the decorations. Huge tapestries depicted battlefields and the women that surrounded me riding white, winged horses. Swords flashed in the glint of a moon or a sun; blood splattered at their feet; silver hair flying; green eyes vivid; death on their lips and the silver-tipped arrows that they fired into the writhing mass of fairies battling.

“Valkyrjur,” I said. “Valkyries.”

This was Valhalla. Their home, their Hall of the Slain or whatever it was they called it. These women chose who lived or died on battlefields. At least, I thought that’s what they did in the Old Norse stories. The reality might be quite different.

Not that any of this felt at all real.

I took a step and then another until I caught up to Heliqa, who had been waiting patiently for my mind to kick itself back into gear.

“Not many who come here are received by the Queen,” she said once I’d reached her.

“Is it meant to be an honour or something?” I snapped.

“The honour is meeting Odin, creature. Not our Queen.”

With those ominous words, she took off again, and I was forced to follow her.

We ended up in a small room. Clothes hung on racks and chests were spilling over with garments, but my eyes were all for the window and what I could see out of it. Rolling green fields and fluffy white clouds and here and there colourful flowers in little clusters. The sun didn’t reach me, but I half expected to see a unicorn prancing about out there.

“I think I prefer how you decorate inside,” I muttered.

The scenery outside changed immediately to reflect a storm-tossed sea and a shipwrecked galleon on it. People were still trying to scramble into lifeboats. Lightning struck and took out a sailor who was reaching for the hand of a boy.

I turned away, knowing it wasn’t real.

My eyes landed on Heliqa who stood statue still staring at the scene outside.

“He is awake,” one of the women behind her said.

“He is awake,” the other one added.

I waited for Heliqa to repeat the words; they seemed to like to do things in threes if memory served. But she just kept staring at the ship and the sea and the lightning.

“Herra,” one of the women said softly.

“Dress her,” Heliqa snapped. And then she swept out of the room on silent feet.

I glanced back over my shoulder briefly, but the sea had been replaced again by the rolling hills and too bright flowers. When I looked back, one of the Valkyries was holding up a ball gown. One of those Cinderella type ballgowns. All satin and lace and huge skirt with copious petticoats under it.

“Pass?” I said warily.

“The Queen will expect it,” the woman on the right said.

“We must not offend the Queen,” the other added.

Both looked out the window again. I checked, but it was still showing the grassy hills.

I looked back at them.

“You’re not wearing pansy-arsed dresses,” I said.

“We are Vakyrjur. Warriors.”

“I might not be a Valkyrie, but I am a warrior. They call me Nothus. I’m kinda badass where I come from. The boogeyman under the bed so to speak.”

One of the women cocked her head to the side. Then her eyes widened. A breeze had me turning around.

Lying across the windowsill was a dress, but it wasn’t anything Cinderella would have been caught wearing. It was dark green for starters, not froufrou pink. And it didn’t have petticoats under it. It was still full length and would hit the floor once I wore shoes of some description, but the fabric would sway, and there was a split in it. Enough to allow movement. The bodice was strapped, crisscrossed over the chest. The straps could easily carry weapons if I had any. The sleeves were long and cut in a V that would cover my hand; there was even a little hoop for my middle finger to hold it down. On the underside of the sleeve were sheaths. Minus knives. But they so wanted knives in them.

“This,” I said. “I could wear. But only because I like the slit in it.”

No one said anything. I looked back at the fairies. They looked scared.

“Hey,” I said. “You’re Valkyries. Never show fear.”

They blinked and then looked at me, heads cocked to the side.

“You will wear this dress,” one of them said.

“Ah-huh,” I replied, shaking my head. I stepped out of my jeans and then whipped off my t-shirt. There was no point being self-conscious, it would only ruin my reputation. And I was going for cool, competent and kickass. Image was everything.

I snorted to myself as I stepped into the dress, which proceeded to slide up my body and wrap itself around my frame without any assistance from me or the Valkyries.

“Whoa,” I said, as the fabric clung to me, the crisscrossing straps cinching in tight, cupping my breasts and making it look like I actually had curves for once. “Who did that?” I asked.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

Heliqa returned then and took in the scene. Me in a non-froufrou dress, the two Valkyries staring at me in wonder, and my breasts all up and out there on display.

“Whaddya think?” I asked, spinning in a slow circle. “All I need is a dagger or two on the arms, and I’d be set.”

I felt the weight of the daggers instantly. It took everything in me not to reach for them and give their presence away. I swallowed, and then pasted on a nonchalant smile.

“Shall we do this?” I asked Heliqa.

She stared at me. Then stared at the dress. Then flicked her eyes out the window.

Then she nodded her head and turned on her heel not waiting for me to follow.

“Thanks,” I muttered to the women, or it could have been to the room at large.

But really, it was to whoever had given me those daggers and armed me in a dress I could actually move in.

It wasn’t until I stepped out of the room and into somewhere else, having done that fairy trick of walking through space to get somewhere, that I registered the silver bracelet was gone.

Ah, my Dark Shadow said, stretching inside. It is good to be back.

Yeah, it was. But why were we back at all?

25

Tricked

“A word of warning,” Heliqa said as we approached a massive door covered in scary carvings of dead and dying things, “do not ask so many questions of the Queen.”

I closed my eyes and cursed my idiocy. I’d been firing questions at the Valkyries as if I was out for a Sunday walk. This was no park and fairies were no walking companions. Asking questions here could lead to a dangerous bill being tallied. Aliath had warned me, and often let me get away with the odd question without racking up debt. But the Queen wouldn’t.

I wondered briefly why the Valkyries had.

And then the doors opened onto an opulent setting.

Fairies milled around the outside edge of the enormous room we walked into as if they didn’t dare cross into the light cast by the multiple chandeliers hanging down the centre of the grand space they were in. They were dressed in a vibrant display of colours. Scarlets and sapphires, rubies and amethysts. Someone was wearing sunflower yellow.

Their hair was pure silver. Not white blonde or anything remotely seen on humans. And their eyes shone with the type of illumination only seen in the movies. On the likes of werewolves. Or cats if their eyes were green and not yellow. Power emanated from them in prickling waves and chimes floated softly on the air.

I reached for my Light automatically, relief coursing through me when it answered without causing a brain aneurysm, and wrapped it around me like a cloak. The Dark Shadow added her Sanguis Vitam, turning what would have been the equivalent of a bulletproof vest into military grade body armour.

We had to be careful not to show how unaffected we were. The moment Isoleth or her Valkyries realised I was armed would be the last moment I breathed free air.

Not that the air was free in here. It was layered in complex combinations of scents and tastes. From pungent and spicy pepper to bittersweet dark chocolate to a disturbing amount of indulgent chocolate mud cake. They had contempt for me and fear of me and some, disgustingly, had a shit-tonne of lust. I was guessing for me, but I chose not to dwell on that.

I scanned those present, trying to see a friendly face amongst the number of sharp teeth on display. But I didn’t know many fairies and those I did know were mainly of the Dark variety. I was surrounded now by the blinding brightness of the Ljósálfar. And aside from Heliqa who walked beside me, I didn’t know a single name amongst them all.

Except of course Isoleth’s.

The Queen of the Light Fey sat on a throne of thorns. I noted absently that they were similar to the thorns that adorned the Valkyries’ heads. The Queen, though, wore a crown of antlers. Like some ancient Viking ruler who brought the poor beast down with a spear and a hand forged sword then skinned it and wore its fur as a cloak, its antlers as a headdress.

She lifted a long-fingered hand and stroked down the back of a brown owl that sat on her shoulder. Two vivid green eyes watched our progress with barely concealed avarice. A wash of power swept out from where she sat and swirled around our feet. The Valkyrie stepped over it agilely, as if she’d done it a hundred times before.

My efforts of avoiding that stinging sensation looked more like a floundering sea lion. A few sniggers sounded out from the peanut gallery. I glowered at them. They fell silent.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum,” I muttered to myself. If I was the vampires’ boogeyman, I was something altogether scarier to the fairies.

The shudders that rippled through them reminded me of a Mexican wave at a rugby match. The scent of bittersweet dark chocolate intensified on the air.

Heliqa came to rest before the massive, raised throne and curtsied low. I wouldn’t have done anything quite so simpering if I hadn’t felt the power that pushed down on my body to do so. I obeyed the unspoken command even though I was quite certain I could have fought it and won. But it was way too soon to show my hand like that, so I behaved myself.

The Dark Shadow huffed and puffed inside, but she didn’t say anything.

Right there with you, sister, I told her.

All fairies must die, she said.

With the Dark Shadow, I was realising, it was all rather black and white.

“Welcome to Ljósálfar,” Isoleth said.

Her words were like the thousand multilayered chimes of a crystal chandelier. I even looked up at the vaulted ceiling to see if those chandeliers above our head had added to the ringing sound. Nothing swayed, so it was all her.

I opened my mouth to thank her and then snapped it shut.

Never thank a fairy. It goes with: Never trust a fairy, and Never ask a fairy for a favour. There’s a lot of Nevers in Álfheimr.

“You have a nice throne,” I said instead and received several chittered laughs from the assembled crowd.

Isoleth silenced them with a scowl. Then turned that frosty glare on me.

“You are not much,” she said. I decided staying silent would be the best thing. “Your hair is white. Your skin is white. Your eyes are pink. I do not like it.”

I smiled and showed her my fangs.

“A snapping Ratatöskr,” she said, and several fairies chanced some laughter. She didn’t scowl at them, so more joined in. “All sharp teeth and no backbone.”

I had no idea what a Ratatöskr was, but I was guessing it was small and relatively harmless.

My lips thinned, and I let a little more red seep into my eyes.

“It would take little to snap you in half,” the Queen said. “Perhaps an arrow through the heart.”

I glanced at Heliqa. She remained silent, not correcting her Queen on that falsehood.

“Or a noose around your pale neck.”

This was fun, I thought. Thinking up ways to kill me.

“You’ll find it hard to bring me the final death,” I said.

“SILENCE!” The chimes that accompanied that fairy-induced command made the chandeliers rattle, and the windowpanes crack. “You will speak when I tell you to speak, cretin!”

I sucked in an unnecessary breath of air and tried to soothe the Dark Shadow. Who was calling Isoleth every swearword I had ever heard and then some that were in a foreign language.

I found that disturbing on so many levels.

“All of which is far too quick a death,” Isoleth said, continuing her former conversational topic as if nothing had happened. “Perhaps a contest is in order. A silver piece for the most horrific form of death that can be devised. It should be gruesome and take an appropriate length of time. It should entertain me. I require entertaining.”

Somehow I didn’t think that was a lie. Isoleth looked bored. Strange, considering she was currently waging war against the Dökkálfa. I guessed war to a fairy was nothing really. Looking at all those death scenes on the throne room’s door, it was just another battle after all.

“A Ratatöskr in a maze,” someone shouted.

“Yes!” another agreed. “We could watch the creature battle different horrors while trying to escape.”

“I like this idea,” the Queen said.

Not to be outdone, another fairy shouted, “An arena battle. Pit our greatest monsters against the creature and take bets on how long each last.”

“That would imply the creature would win some battles,” Isoleth countered.

“She did say she was hard to kill,” someone muttered, and quickly swallowed their tongue.

I watched on idly as the fairy’s face turned white and his lips turned blue and then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell to the floor. No one moved to check on him. No one did a damn thing actually.

“The maze it is,” Isoleth said. “A silver piece to the winner.”

An armed fairy I hadn’t noticed stepped into the light of the chandeliers and crossed the throne room to the fairy who’d first spoken.

“Spend it wisely,” Isoleth said.

“I am honoured, my Queen,” the fairy said, bowing low.

“Create the maze,” the Queen ordered. “Prepare the horrors. Tonight we shall feast as the Ratatöskr is hunted.”

She stood from her throne and swept from the room without another word.

A low-level chiming began as the fairies released whatever had held them in check and spoke in low voices.

Heliqa nodded to the armed fairy and spun on her heel, expecting me to follow.

What choice did I have? I’d checked the windows; we were several stories up. I’d located all the exits, and now that I knew what to look for, I’d spotted the armed guards at each one. I could have fought my way out, and I hadn’t entirely ruled out that option. But magic thrummed in the building, and even I knew that we were no match for it.

Escape the maze, the Dark Shadow said.

That might be harder than you think, I offered.

There will be one entry. One exit. One guard to guard it. Their attention will be on the maze, not on what happens outside of it.

All good in theory, not so hot in practice.

Now or never, I told my vampire-within and reached for a dagger.

A fairy stepped into view in the centre of the room. He simply appeared from thin air. Nothing to see one second, a freaking silver-haired fairy standing there the next.

All conversation ceased. Even the chiming.

His green eyes scanned the crowd, and a soft smirk graced his lips. He was stunning. But then all fairies were to some degree. He wore a small crown on his head. Thorns and antlers intertwined. His shirt stretched across a broad chest; his pants hugged a tight arse. His hands looked like they’d know what to do with a woman’s body.

I blinked. I didn’t usually get all hot under the collar when faced with a pretty face and a nice set of abs. The fairy looked directly at me and smiled.

Oh, no you don’t, I thought and pulled on my Light.

His head cocked to the side like a bird, and he studied me. No, I corrected silently, not me but my Light.

He stepped closer, his footwork that of a dancer. I was mesmerised as he circled me. In the back of my mind, the Dark Shadow was raging. But nothing existed for me but the fairy who stroked a finger down my arm.

“Where is your bracelet, creature?” he asked.

How come he got to ask a question, and I didn’t?

I said nothing.

“Who took it from you?” he murmured.

Keep going, I thought. Rack up a debt you won’t even honour.

“Herra,” he snapped.

Heliqa appeared at his side, eyes downcast. Damn it, what was with these Valkyries? Never show fear, bitches. Never.

And then the fairy backhanded the leader of the Valkyries and sent her sprawling. Heliqa slowly stood from where she’d landed and curtsied as if thanking him for the reprimand. His ring had cut her cheek, I noted. Blood dripped down and pooled on her leather armour. How much blood had that garment soaked over the thousands of years she’d been a Valkyrie?

“Did you band her at all?” the fairy asked.

“Yes, my Prince,” Heliqa murmured. “She was banded at Valhöll.”

“Then you have a traitor amongst you, Herra. See to their death immediately.”

“The creature, my Prince,” she said, eyeing me with worry.

“I’ll deal with the creature. You deal with the viper in your nest.”

Heliqa curtsied again and then with one final look at me, that seemed to be a warning of some description, she spun on her heel and left.

I felt very alone without the Valkyrie.

“Now,” the fairy prince said. “Let us become better acquainted.”

He wrapped an unsurprisingly firm hand around my wrist and dragged me from the room without a backward glance.

He smells familiar, the Dark Shadow said.

I inhaled and tried to pick out his signature scent from the flurry of emotions that swirled around him. He was angry and curious and excited and determined and worried about something that meant a great deal to him. But underneath it all was his scent.

Slightly burnt peaches with a hint of caramel woven through it. And layered amongst that sickly sweet scent was one even more alarming. Candied apples, sunshine, honey and Spring.

Lucinda, I growled.

Yes, the Dark Shadow said. He has touched her.

Her growl was something else altogether. She did not like the idea of this fairy coming within sniffing distance of Lucinda. I was momentarily surprised at the Dark Shadow’s reaction.

And then she said, She is ours.

Vampires could be very territorial and Lucinda, despite not liking what she had done to us, was as much our Sire as Xavier was. And a Nosferatin. Somewhere in amongst the mixed up feelings I had for the woman was a hell of a lot of wanting to protect a sister.

He must die, the Dark Shadow announced and her growl this time was audible.

The fairy prince turned and looked at me over his shoulder.

“Hush now, creature,” he said. “I mean you no harm.” I doubted that very much. “You carry my elska’s Light, and I merely wish to know why.”

Who the hell was Elska? Lucinda?

“Like Elsa from the movie Frozen?” I asked. And to hell with questions, he wasn’t the Queen.

“Who is this Elsa?” he enquired, opening the door to a room.

It was a sitting room, decorated in masculine colours and large furniture; a fire blazed in a huge hearth that took up one stone wall. I scented peaches, the fairy’s signature. This was his room, but thankfully there was no bed.

“A princess,” I said.

“Then yes, my elska is like you say; a princess. But a Princess of Ljósálfar.”

“Since when?” I asked. Was he talking about Lucinda or not?

“Since the kvángask.”

“Don’t speak fairy,” I muttered.

“She is my bride. My one true love. The mother of my children.”

I shook my head and scowled.

“Who are we talking about again?”

“Lucinda. You wear her Light. Now, tell me, creature,” he said in a purr laced with chimes. “Why do you wear my eslka’s Light?”

Who the hell was this nut job? Lucinda wasn’t a fairy princess. And she sure as hell didn’t have any children. She couldn’t. She was Nosferatin. This lunatic was delusional. And sexy. Really sexy.

I suddenly realised I was stroking his pecs.

I made a squawking sound. Followed by a growl that was all the Dark Shadow.

“You may touch,” the douchebag said; starting to remove his shirt.

“Keep that on!” I snapped.

“Come, you wish to touch. It is only a touch.”

The shirt disappeared. My hand connected with hot skin, something electric shot through my body, making me gasp.

“That’s it, creature. Touch me.”

I had to get out of here. I had to get out of here, right now.

My tongue swirled around a nipple while my hand swept over sculpted muscles. The fairy prince lay back on a bed that appeared out of nowhere and placed his hands under his head; studying me.

“What do you feel, creature?” he asked, sounding for all intents and purposes as though he were bored.

Trapped, I thought desperately.

I tried to reach my Light, but it wasn’t there. I glanced down at my wrist; the bracelet hadn’t miraculously returned, so the prince was doing something to interfere with my natural ability to use my Light. I noticed he was glowing slightly. And chiming, even though his lips weren’t parted.

My hands greedily searched for new areas of skin to touch, while my tongue lapped at his pecs like a cat at a bowl of milk. Inside I screamed, the wretched sound joining the howl of the Dark Shadow.

Fuck, I hated fairies.

“What do you feel?” the prince asked.

“Hungry,” I growled, my fangs pressing into his skin.

“Uh-uh,” he said, pulling my face back by gripping a handful of my hair and tugging painfully. “No teeth, creature. You would not like how I taste.”

He kept a tight grip on my hair and hauled me up his body and then kissed me with all the finesse of a master artist perfecting that one piece of art he’d be known for, for the rest of eternity. I kissed him back, and then the Dark Shadow slapped me. My fangs pierced his tongue, and his fist hit my cheek; I went flying. Rancid fairy blood coated my throat, and I heaved what little I’d managed to swallow onto the stone floor. Some of it got on his very expensive looking carpet, which made me just try to hack up some more.

Boots came into my line of sight as he crouched down beside me. He gripped the back of my head with a fistful of hair again and then pressed my face into what I’d just vomited.

Charming.

“That was not wise,” the fairy said.

“Fuck you,” I muttered.

“You could have. But that option has passed. Instead, I think, I shall just take your Light. It is not yours anyway.”

I felt a drain immediately, followed by a spike of pain right through my heart.

I glanced down and noted, through the haze of red that veiled my eyes, a silver dagger protruding out of my chest. It wouldn’t kill me, but it sure as hell incapacitated me. I made a frustrated sound in the back of my throat as my Light was suctioned out by the fairy.

He glowed. Brighter than any sun. His lips were parted, and his eyes shone such an intense green, I had to look away. And then he made a sound that could only be thought of as sexual. The bastard was getting off on it.

I slipped a dagger free. He was too busy blissing out to notice, and he thought the one through my heart would hold me.

But I’m not just vampyre. They needed to learn that.

The blade swiped across his throat, parting flesh, and I watched as foul smelling blood spurted out, all over him, his plush rug, and my clothes.

He made a gurgling sound, his hands flying to his throat to staunch the blood flow, his eyes wide and finally, finally showing the fear he should have felt when he’d cornered me in this room.

“Lesson one, Prince of Ljósálfar,” I said. “Never trust a Nothus.”

And then I clocked him on the side of the head with the butt of the dagger. He fell like a thousand-year-old redwood and lay unconscious in his own disgusting blood.

The wound at his neck was already healing, so I didn’t muck around.

I yanked the dagger free of my chest, cleaned it and my mucky face on his discarded shirt, and then slipped the fairy’s knife into the crisscrossed straps over the bodice of my dress. And then I walked to the door.

I was still deep inside Isoleth’s castle, and well inside Ljósálfar land. Making it out of here and into Dökkálfa was going to take a hell of a lot of luck and great feats of cunning.

Of course, swapping Isoleth for Sofiq was not my wisest plan. But Aliath was in the Dark Court of Álfheimr, and that was better than this fucked-in-the-head, Light-stealing and sexed-up fairy lying in his own blood.

I stepped out of the prince’s quarters as soon as I thought the way was clear.

And stepped into the middle of a maze.

26

Resigned

The walls of the maze were over twelve feet high. Twisted vines and gnarled branches intertwined with thorns the size of my hand and the skeletons of those who’d not escaped their clutches. I stepped into the middle of the path I was standing on and suppressed a shudder.

The walls moved slightly as though breathing; a soft undulation in and out. A sound floated on the wind as if air escaping. I looked up at the sky, noting the stars were bright, but there was no moon. At least they hadn’t decided to burn me to a crisp while I battled whatever they threw at me.

I turned in a circle, noting the wall of the maze behind me was intact; I was standing at a dead end which meant the fairy Queen wanted me to walk in one direction only. If this was the entry point, there was no door to show it.

I guess your one entry/one exit idea is defunct, I told the Dark Shadow.

Her only response was to growl my ear off.

Right there with you, sister, I thought.

I slipped the Light-sucking prince’s dagger into my hand, leaving my own in their sheaths for now. I presumed the fairy prince’s blade would be better, but what did I know. I checked for my Light; it was still there, but I’d been depleted. It would replenish itself but not fast enough to be of any use here.

The Dark Shadow silently gave me her Sanguis Vitam; a warm flow of power that wrapped around me and made me feel almost whole.

We miss the Light, she said.

Yes, I agreed and started to walk forward.

Sounds were distorted by the tall walls of the maze. The wind that wheezed through the branches reminded me of an old man who’d smoked a pack a day. I half expected to smell tobacco, but the only scents on the air were burnt coffee and out-of-date milk, the sweet and pungent sting of a summer storm, and a hell of a lot of sticky toffee.

That couldn’t be the maze, so I had to assume the Light Fey were watching this, close enough for me to smell their hatred, anticipation and amusement.

I kept a close eye - or nose - on their scents, using any change in their emotions as an indication of incoming danger. My heart rate escalated even though nothing happened. I wondered if the anticipation was actually theirs or mine.

I peeked around a corner and saw something in the shadows move. My fingers flexed around the dagger. If I stood still, I knew the danger would come to me eventually. Patience was not one of my better qualities, so I sucked in a breath for air and tore off toward whatever the hell it was that waited, hoping to catch it before it was ready.

The shadows shifted, morphed, and became a solid form. I noticed the helmet first; it definitely looked Viking. A horn protruded from either side of an upside-down brass bowl. I forgot about the helmet when I realised the thing was a skeleton. Not unlike the skeletons that I could see inside the twisted branches of the walls.

It let out a shriek of rage and agony as if whatever kept it alive hurt. The pain I could hear in that sound made my body tremble. Injured animals were often the worst. It shambled toward me with an uneven gait. Strips of dried flesh hung off its body, but I could see the leather of what had once been armour. It looked familiar.

“Hey, big guy,” I said, crooning slightly. “You wouldn’t happen to know any Valkyries, would you?”

He swung a big fist at me that at one time would have been meaty, but was now nothing more than mummified skin and bones.

I skipped back, not wanting to cause it any more pain. And then shook my head at the stupidity of that. The creature hadn’t responded to my voice; there was nobody home to negotiate with.

I spun out of the way of a stumbled swing, landing too close to the maze’s wall. A branch wrapped itself around my ankle, making me lose my concentration. The monster’s fist connected with my stomach, making me double over and gasp.

Chimes sound out on the air and then a roar of sound that could be only laughter. I couldn’t inhale; I couldn’t breathe. I cradled my stomach and hacked at the vine around my ankle with the dagger, all the while dodging the clumsy swings of the undead creature before me.

The branch came loose and then the creature charged. At the last second, it opened its arms as if it wanted to give me a bear hug. I swiped with everything I had and took its head from its shoulders.

In the silence that followed, all I could hear was the rapid beat of my heart.

Had that thing just committed suicide by Nothus?

I stumbled into the middle of the maze’s path and stared down at the crumpled form of something that should not have existed.

“What the hell were you?” I whispered.

“Draugar,” a voice said in my ear.

I spun, dagger raised, but all I could see were shadows.

Then Queen Isoleth’s voice boomed out over the maze.

“One point to the creature,” she said. The crowd booed as if this were some WWF wrestling match and I was not the odds-on favourite. “Bring in the next! The creature must pay!”

I turned in a circle, but nothing jumped out at me. Then the branches on the walls at my sides shifted and closed in behind me. Another dead end; I was being herded.

I checked my dagger; there was nothing on it. No blood or guts or vampire dust. It shone in the light of the stars, a silver that almost called to me. I blinked when the Dark Shadow’s claws raked down my back.

Note to self: Don’t look at the Fey silver.

I started forward, wanting nothing but to get this over with. If I could take down each one of the monsters Isoleth threw at me, would she let me go?

Hardly, but it was the only plan I had right now seeing as there was no obvious entry or exit point to the maze.

The sound of music met my ears. But it wasn’t just music. In the background, I could hear water tinkling, and wind in the trees, but not the type of wind I could hear wheezing through the maze’s twisted branches. This wind was crisp and clear and reminded me of a forest. It was friendly and welcoming. I took a step nearer.

“Turn around,” the same voice from earlier said; right in my ear.

I did turn around, but no one was there, and all I could see was the dead end I’d just left moments earlier.

“Run,” the voice urged.

“To where?” I muttered.

The music grew louder, more melancholy. Beautiful. I ignored the unhelpful voice and walked closer to the sounds of water playing over stones and rocks, and falling over waterfalls.

A fairy sat on a boulder in the middle of a clearing, playing a fiddle or it could have been a harp; it was hard to determine which because the music wouldn’t let me. He was naked. He was gorgeous.

The Dark Shadow growled low, but she too was curious. She stepped forward. I did too. The music wrapped around us and lifted our arms until we were swaying and dancing to its oh so beautiful tune.

“Take his head,” the voice of earlier whispered.

“Go away,” I whispered back.

The fairy playing the music had pointed ears. I hadn’t seen such beautiful pointed ears on the fairies I’d met before. I wanted to touch them. He pierced me with too green eyes and sped up his finger movements on the strings.

“Dance,” he said.

“Don’t dance,” the voice urged.

I could no further not dance than I could deny what I was. At one time that might have been an invalid argument, but not anymore. I am Nothus, and I kinda liked it.

But I liked the music more.

I twirled and spun and skipped and leapt and danced around the clearing. At one point, I stumbled, my legs feeling weak, but the Dark Shadow fed me more of her Sanguis Vitam, and I kept on moving. Swaying. Twirling. Humming. Pirouetting. I leapt across the clearing to the applause of the audience; soaking in their adulation. My skin was damp with perspiration, my head spun with the effort required to please my adoring fans, my lips were dry and my eyelids droopy.

I stumbled, my knees giving out, but I could not stop dancing. I would not stop dancing. I pushed up off the ground, my arms giving out and my face slamming back into the dirt. I lay there panting, crying, because I couldn’t get back up again and dance. I needed to dance. I had to.

The Dark Shadow howled inside; she wanted to dance too.

See, she said, spinning around inside my head. It is easy. Come. Dance with me.

I danced inside my head, the Dark Shadow my partner, the forest my music, the world in my memories our audience. And then a sharp sting made me stumble. The Dark Shadow gave me the last of her Sanguis Vitam. The power surged through me and then was swiftly replaced by the searing pain of something cleaving my chest apart.

I noticed absently that the music had stopped. I blinked open hazy eyes and saw the sprite’s fiddle leaning against a rock, just to the side of where I was lying.

Another sawing, searing, agonising pain had me gasping.

Sound rushed back in, and all I could hear were fairies chanting, their chimes making the words sound like a poor imitation of the fiddler’s stunning music.

“Fossegrim. Fossegrim. Fossegrim,” they chanted.

I looked down, and the pointy-eared maestro was using the fairy prince’s dagger to make a hole in my chest; directly above my heart.

I stared at the wound, at the blood that oozed out, at the still-beating organ as he reached into the cavity to take it.

Oh, hell no, I thought and flailed around with my arm until my fingers latched onto the fiddle.

It took everything in me to lift the damn thing, and the Dark Shadow had no more Sanguis Vitam to give me. My Light, thin though it was, returned with the desperation of the dying. And I whacked the damn instrument over the fairy’s head.

He fell back.

I flopped after him.

A dagger from my arm sheath stabbed him in the eye.

His scream would have shattered glass if there had been any glass nearby.

I silenced him with a desperate swipe of the blade across his throat.

“Head,” the voice urged beside me. “Take his head, creature.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, dragging myself across the blood coated dirt.

I stared down at the pointy-eared bastard and snarled.

Then with more effort than I cared to acknowledge, I hacked off his fucking head.

I fell back on the ground and stared up at the stars, panting, the world turning, the skulls in the twisted maze walls dancing just at the edge of my dimming sight.

Two monsters. That’s all it had taken to bring me so low. Two fucking monsters, no more than a hundred metres of maze, and all of our Sanguis Vitam. That’s it.

“I need blood,” I murmured.

“There is none here to sustain you.”

“Go away.”

“Four of our kind she has hunted!” the Queen shouted, her voice booming over the maze and making the skulls shudder and hide in the twisted vines. “Four monsters she shall face.”

Oh, great. I lay there and contemplated that this could very well be where I died. Once and for all.

“Four she has delivered to Fólkvangr. FOUR!”

Fuck. This was because of the four spies Aliath had me hunt. He must have killed them, then. And now I was going to pay a debt I didn’t even want. A debt that meant nothing now. Because Samson was my mate and the amor certamen was over. Whatever Jett desired now, it wasn’t me in his bed. It was more likely me under his line. And that I could avoid without a fairy fucker’s help.

Fuck, I hated fucking fairies.

“I need blood,” I muttered, determined I’d face my fate standing.

“I cannot give you blood, but I can give you this,” that annoying voice said in my ear.

Light washed through me, making me gasp, and my body arched off the ground where I lay. A tingling started in my toes and raced up my legs, over my sexy bits, and then through my torso, settling above my heart. I let out an involuntary moan and rolled over, trying to hide my reaction to whatever the entity had just done.

Fuck-a-porn-film-fluffing-duck, but that was good.

I panted through the aftermath of all that glorious Light and then sat up.

I was still depleted of Sanguis Vitam - my Dark Shadow had retreated entirely, probably curled up somewhere to sulk - but I had my Light back.

“Let’s do this,” I muttered, jumping to my feet and checking all my weapons.

I still had the fairy prince’s dagger, but my arm sheath one had done pretty damn well, too. I didn’t bother to check either of them by sight; I was done getting bamboozled by fairy silver and fairy tunes. I looked down at the severed head of the fiddle playing Fey and spat.

The crowd roared in anger, their chimes climbing higher.

“Is that the best you’ve got!” I shouted, turning in a slow circle. “You send a boy to do a man’s job! You’re an embarrassment to the supernatural world! Shame on you!”

The chimes escalated. The maze walls undulated. A foul-smelling breeze wafted past my nose and I huffed.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I sang.

The ground shook. One single shudder running through it. Then another. And another. Equally spaced, but somehow getting closer. My legs buckled; I stiffened my knees and spread my stance, almost holding my arms out wide to keep my balance. The shudder of the earth continued until I could hear something crashing through the maze walls, heading inexorably toward me.

I glanced up and saw a mop of dirty silver hair; it splayed out around an oversized head, teased up as if whatever lay claim to the do had stuck their finger in an electrical socket. I arched my brow at what had to be a fourteen or fifteen-foot fairy; thundering through the maze with reckless abandon, green eyes hungry for my blood.

“Fee-fi-fo-fum,” I said dryly. Isoleth had a sense of humour.

I slipped a second dagger free of my arm sheath, and then twirled both in my hands.

The giant appeared at the end of the corridor I was in and paused. Its misshaped eyes glared at me with obvious malevolence.

“Jötunn. Jötunn. Jötunn,” the crowd roared.

“Go for the ankles,” the entity whispered.

“Ankles. Right,” I said and bounced on my feet. “Easy.” Yep. If I could see his bloody ankles underneath all that hairy skin.

The giant roared. The crowd roared. Fuck it, I thought and roared too.

We both sprang forward at the same time, the undulating ground making my progress less ballerina-esque and more drunken barmaid. The giant thundered toward me, swinging a massive club.

“A club!” I growled. “A fucking club!”

“Ankles,” the entity urged. “Now!”

It hadn’t failed me yet, so I dropped to my arse and slid along the dirt, coming out the other side of those massive columns the giant had to have called his legs.

For a moment nothing happened, and then the giant toppled, a sound of wretched pain leaving its lips.

Nailed it! Hamstring that motherfucker!

“Now run,” the entity said happily.

Run. Running I could do. I kicked into Nosferatin gear and flashed from the scene, the twisted branches of the maze walls reaching out to grab me.

“Why are you helping me?” I said through panted breaths. Panted breaths I still shouldn’t have needed, but my body demanded I give it.

“A favour for a favour.”

Oh, hell no.

But it was too late to back out of this warped deal I had going on with the disembodied voice because waiting for me in another suddenly-appearing-out-of-thin-air clearing was a freaking horse.

“And this is the final payment,” the voice said.

“Nuh-uh.” I shook my head. “No way. That horse has eight legs!”

The crowd crowed. Chimes rang out. I gritted my teeth, pulling all that gifted Light around me.

“Sleipnir! Sleipnir! Sleipnir!” the Fey cried.

“Bring me her head!” Isoleth roared.

“OK,” I muttered. “I took out a giant. I can take out an eight-legged horse.”

“You do not need to,” the entity said. “Sleipnir is loyal to me.”

The horse pawed the ground with two of its eight hooves. Its nostrils flared, and the red of its evil looking eyes bored into me.

“You sure about that?” I whispered.

“One moment.”

I waited. The horse snorted, wafts of black smoke coming out of its massive nostrils. It peeled back its lips and bared blackened teeth at me.

“It is ironic,” Isoleth said conversationally, but her voice carried to every corner of the maze and no doubt well beyond it, “that the creature shall be ended by the one monster who respects the blades she carries.”

What? I glanced down at the two daggers in my hands. One was the fairy prince’s, and one was from the arm sheaths on my dress. Which one did Isoleth mean?

My eyes came back up in time to see the horse charge.

Ankles? Neck? I shook my head and crouched. Belly.

The horse lowered its head and blocked the only access I had to a vulnerable part of it. I spun instead. Its massive form passed me, the thunder of its hooves echoed in the maze, the ground shook, and then it swung its head and slammed its enormous skull into my side, sending me flying.

My body broke through twisted branches and stinging vines and snapping teeth in skeleton heads. I skidded across the dirt to come to rest several hundred feet away; my body aching, my head spinning, my chest throbbing when I tried to breathe. I stopped. I didn’t need to breathe. And it fucking hurt.

Somewhere ribs had been broken.

I staggered to my feet, teeth gritted, sweat dripping into my eyes. I rubbed the daggers against my dress, thereby drying my palms while I was at it, and then resettled my grip firmly. I hadn’t even knicked it.

“Ah,” the voice said, “there it is.” Just as the horse charged.

I didn’t have much more left in me. I had Light, but I doubted that would do much to something as powerful as this, and really my Light was all that was holding me up. If I used it, I would collapse and be hoof-fodder for eight very hard and very determined hooves.

But what choice did I have?

I checked behind me. Not much space to make my stand, but if I fell, I’d still be out of reach of the fucking maze walls. For a while. Perhaps long enough. I gathered my Light. Time seemed to slow. Then I sent it out just as the horse reached me.

The world swam. My vision dimmed. Dimmer. Dimming. Then my Light hit the horse square in the chest, and it bellowed. I expected its hooves on me at any moment, but the damnedest thing happened. The horse lifted its front legs and then jumped right over the top of me.

I lay in the dirt and tried not to pant with relief.

“That was unnecessary,” the entity said. “I had it in hand.”

I said nothing. The crowd was stunned silent. I could hear the horse galloping away in the distance, the maze crashing around it.

Any moment now the twisted branches in the walls would converge on me, I had to get up. But I had nothing left to give.

“Kill her!” Isoleth said, her voice frosted in icicles.

“Oh, dear,” the entity offered. “And I had such hope that you were the one.”

I huffed out a laugh and then grimaced as pain swept through me.

The walls shivered and then started to move closer.

Any ideas? I asked the Dark Shadow.

It has been fun, she said in all seriousness.

What happened to survive at all costs? I demanded.

You did, she snapped.

The walls towered above me, the empty sockets-for-eyes in the skulls stared down from their twisted perches, and then a crack of sound rendered the air apart, and the smell of ozone wafted toward me.

I stilled.

A hand wrapped around my dress from out of thin air, and then I was jerked unceremoniously through a portal and ended up sprawled across a cold stone floor.

“You are reckless and irresponsible and one day will be the death of me,” Aliath said.

“Good to see you too, fairy,” I mumbled, and then everything turned black.

27

Annoyed

I woke up famished. My fangs down, my body shaking, sweat coating my feverish skin. I was no longer in the dark green dress with the revealing - and butt-kicking - slit. I was lying on a sumptuous four-poster bed, with gauzy white material as curtains and absolutely nothing covering my naked body.

My hands fisted as my back arched; hunger pangs making the Dark Shadow growl and pant with desperation.

“Feed,” a voice I vaguely recognised told me.

A wrist was placed in front of my lips and the rest, as they say, was history.

Well, it would have been if not for the fact I almost drained the poor guy dry.

“That will do, Georgia,” Aliath said.

I shook my head; my fangs bedded deep into the flesh of the human donor; sweet, succulent blood flooding down my throat and making the Dark Shadow purr with languor.

“Enough, I said!” Aliath snapped, yanking my jaw open with two well-placed fingers that I promptly tried to snap off with my teeth.

A swat on the nose was all I received in answer, making me feel decidedly like a misbehaving puppy.

I glared at the fairy as the human fell back on the bed; face pale and lips blue, a hand held tightly to his wrist where I’d been gnawing.

I stared at him for several long seconds and then said, “Who is he?”

“He is human, that is all you need to know.”

“What’s he doing here?” I gathered we were still in Álfheimr. I didn’t know of any place on Earth that had flimsy canopies above oversized beds that smelled of peaches.

“It is not important.”

“It is important,” I snapped, springing up and gripping the human’s shoulder when Aliath tried to help him from the bed.

Aliath’s eyes blazed that fairy green, no doubt trying to compel me. I felt too guilty right then to not be using every supernatural ability I had to hide behind. I’d almost killed the man. I needed to know he’d be OK when he left here.

Aliath sighed and released his hold on the human. The guy fell back and promptly fell asleep on the bed. I made sure he was comfortable and then stepped off the bed and looked around for some clothing. Absently scratching at my chest, I found a robe. It was too big and smelled of Aliath, which was all kinds of wrong, but it covered me up adequately.

I stared at my chest for a second, watching as the skin changed from angry red to pink to a white scar that would eventually fade to nothing. The shape was roughly that of a circle, right above my heart.

Fucking pointy-eared fairy bastard.

I looked up at Aliath and said, “Who’s the human and why is here?”

“Are you sure you wish to ask such a question?”

“Our debt tally is too high now to be concerned with such things,” I said.

Aliath inclined his head slowly. “You and I are intricately entwined,” he agreed. “Not much will change our fates now.”

I shook my head. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I was too jittery to worry about it. My eyes darted to the human who had started to snore softly. He was dressed in clothes a member of the servant class of Fey would wear.

“He is the result of an Umskipti exchange,” Aliath said.

“What does that mean?”

“He was raised in Álfheimr. He is Mœðr.” Aliath sighed when I opened my mouth to ask what that meant. He beat me to it. “Mate. He is capable of fathering Fey children.”

My legs suddenly felt weak, and I quickly found my way to the nearest sofa. Sinking down, I looked up at my fairy ally - if you could call the relationship I had with Aliath as being cooperative - in horror.

“It is not a habit of the Dökkálfa to use changelings,” he said defensively.

“The Ljósálfar did this?”

“Yes. Alerac is what you would call a double agent. He slips us information from Isoleth’s court, and we are fairly certain he slips her information from ours.”

I looked at the man in question and felt not an ounce of anger at that. He was a human in a fairy world; outnumbered, outclassed, outdone. He was only doing what he had to do to survive, and I would not judge him for it.

“Good for him,” I muttered.

Aliath snorted. “He happened to be delivering a message to us from Ljósálfar when your hunger peaked. It seemed fortuitous.”

“What was the message?” I didn’t like coincidences. I just escape the Light Court, and he turns up in Dökkálfa? This was not a prearranged exchange of information. I’d bet my fangs on it.

Aliath smiled that half-indulgent/half-proud smile of his; as if I’d done well and he’d humour me because it pleased him to do so. I was not a performing dog!

“Odin is awake,” he said.

Odin. The Odin of Fólkvangr?

“Who is this Odin?” I asked.

Aliath walked across the room and stared out into the night, his hands loosely joined at his back, his regal-looking clothes catching the glint of the moon, sending flashes of silver about the room. I looked away before the need to touch the silver thread became too urgent.

“He is Isoleth’s husband,” he said.

I arched a brow at his back. “And he’s been sleeping? Like hibernating or something?”

Aliath spun back around and scowled at me. Even with frown lines, the damn fairy looked gorgeous.

“We do not hibernate like bears,” he snapped.

“OK,” I said without inflection. “Then why did the message say he was awake?”

“He has been…sleeping. For quite some time.”

“Like a bear would in winter when it hibernates. Got it.”

Aliath closed his eyes, looking pained. I smiled. Shame he didn’t catch it.

“He has been banished to Fólkvangr for centuries,” he said, eyes still closed. “He took his daughters with him.”

“The Valkyrjur.”

Aliath’s eyes opened, and he studied me. I’d done something entertaining again.

“Yes,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “Isoleth allowed him this one concession if he allowed her the use of their talents.”

“Their warrior talents or their battlefield death selection talents?”

“Both. They work for their Queen in fear of what she could do to their King.”

“She’s blackmailing them,” I said, stunned. That’s why they acted so meek and mild around her. “What could Isoleth do to Odin?”

“Many, many things that are not to be voiced if one does not wish her to hear them.”

I snorted. “She’s a bitch, that’s for sure.”

“My aunt has been called quite a few names over millennia, Georgia, not least of which is Monster.”

“Your aunt.” I’d forgotten that Isoleth was Sofiq’s sister, and Sofiq was Aliath’s aunt. “Where’re your parents?”

His face shut down completely. “Another thing you should not speak of.”

He turned away with a swish of silvered fabric. I blinked.

Then licked my lips and looked away. It was harder than it should have been.

“Why am I still here, Aliath?”

“You needed to recover.” He still didn’t look back at me.

“I’ve recovered now,” I pointed out.

“Your Light has not yet returned.”

“It will. And I’ve fed. My Sanguis Vitam is replenished. You’re stalling.”

He slowly turned and looked directly at me. I kind of wished he hadn’t. He wasn’t dimming his fairy persona at all. I wondered if he knew that or if, in fact, he was doing it intentionally. Part of me thought I intimidated Aliath for some reason. And part of me thought I was mad to think a fairy would be intimidated by me.

“I owe you an apology,” the fairy in question said.

My eyes widened, but I didn’t say anything.

“Isoleth took her revenge out on you. I have embroiled you in a mess of my making.”

“Her spies,” I said.

“Yes. I had not realised she would be aware of your involvement, but we have not seen a Hundr for many centuries. It was naive of me to think your presence would not be noted.”

I waited, but he didn’t add anything else. Like “I’m sorry.” That little speech was clearly as close to an apology as I was going to get, and I didn’t have it in me right then to press for more, even if pressing for more would have been amusing.

Aliath was so easy to rile up.

“OK,” I said. “But you got me out.”

“We are even,” he offered with a dip of his head.

I wouldn’t have said that we were even exactly, but I just wanted to get back to Earth.

“Can I go now?”

Aliath looked away as if he were uncomfortable staring at me. I checked myself. No, no silver threads shining. And my Light was well contained. What little I had of it as it replenished that is. And while I was here in the Dark Court, it wouldn’t replenish fully.

I needed to get back to Earth. Back to Samson. Who, on second thought, wouldn’t have much Light to give me either.

I frowned at that.

“There is something else you should know,” Aliath said.

“Hit me.”

“You are touched by Odin. I can sense his mark on you.”

I had nothing to say to that.

Oh, wait. Yes, I did.

“I don’t even know the man. Fairy. Whatever.”

“At some time, you have been in his presence. He cannot mark a person without having touched them.”

Creepy. I shook my head.

“I haven’t touched anyone named Odin.”

“You were in Valhöll?”

I nodded.

“Then he touched you. Valhöll is half in Ljósálfar and half in Fólkvangr. At some point, he awoke and left his mark on you.”

“How?” I demanded.

“Does it matter? You are now marked by Odin.”

“And just what does that mean exactly?”

Aliath shrugged. He didn’t do that often, but I noted resentfully that he was getting better at it.

“There will be a connection between you that cannot be denied.”

“Can he control me? Command me?”

“Perhaps. It is too soon to know what the connection actually is. Did he ask anything of you?”

“I didn’t even see him, let alone speak to him!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, damn it!”

“You faced one of his creatures in the maze.”

“What?”

“The Sleipnir.”

The…That freak of a horse with eight legs?”

“Yes. It is loyal to Odin. It was a mistake for Isoleth to think the creature had changed allegiance merely because it had not seen nor heard from Odin in centuries.”

Oh, hell. That disembodied voice in the maze had been Odin. The estranged husband of Isoleth. The Queen Bitch of the Light Fey.

“Oh,” I said.

“Yes, ‘oh.’ What did he ask of you, Georgia?”

“I…” I couldn’t think. Had he asked anything of me? “I’m not sure.”

“Then become sure, because what he asked means everything.”

Why me? I thought. Why did I draw every single stupid powerful being to me? Gregor had been right. I was worse than Lucinda. I was a freakshow magnet. I pulled in the powerful and then let them walk all over me.

Damn, it sucked to be me.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember what we’d talked about while I’d been battling monsters in the maze and Odin of all beings had been talking my ear off. Well, not really, he’d not been too loquacious. But he had said a few things.

Run. Ankles. Take the head. That sort of thing. Very helpful in the scheme of things, but he hadn’t exactly asked me anything.

I shook my head. “I don’t think he did ask me something, Aliath. He helped me to beat those things. He offered advice.”

“Advice in Álfheimr is never given freely.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“He woke for you,” Aliath mused. “He saw something in you that could be of use.”

“Just like everybody else in my life,” I muttered.

Aliath ignored my whining. “He has been Isoleth’s prisoner for as long as we have. Like us, he would have sought to escape the shackles she forced him to wear. But the last time he tried was many, many years ago. He has been asleep for a long time. Why now? Why you?”

Yeah, I wondered that too, but for now, I just wanted to go home.

“I need to head back,” I said.

Aliath spun and looked at me. That green pinned me to my chair.

“This is not over, Georgia,” he said.

“We can have this conversation the next time you corner me back on Earth.”

He shook his head. “Your payment for this month has been made. I will not call on your services again for another week at least.”

“How generous of you.”

“But Odin may.”

I stilled. “What do you want me to do about it, Aliath? I have no idea what he wants or how to stop him from using whatever this connection is. And I just want to go home, all right?”

“Georgia,” Aliath said, approaching me. I almost pushed myself back into the sofa to get away, but my Dark Shadow growled inside my head.

Thanks, I muttered to her.

You are welcome, she said haughtily. Not amused by my momentary show of weakness.

I sat still and watched as Aliath approached. He lowered himself onto the couch beside me. Aliath didn’t usually get this close unless he really had to. It made me nervous.

“Isoleth will retaliate,” he said with some urgency. “Not just for the spies she holds you accountable for.”

“I paid for those with blood, sweat and tears,” I snapped.

“Perhaps, but her plan has failed. Your New Zealand government has been ridiculed internationally.” Way to go, Gregor. “The MPs who identified you as a vampire have changed their stories.” Thank you, Samson. “The Taniwha have been decimated when cornered by your Master of the City.” My Master of the City? Did he mean Jett? “The Valkyrjur,” he went on, citing everything that had been wrong in my life recently as if Isoleth had used a shopping list of Things That Would Piss Georgia Off, “have failed her and allowed Odin to wake. She will not use them again. But, Georgia, she will use others. Isoleth is not one to forget a slight, and she believes you have slighted her.”

“Damn it, Aliath! I hunted those fairies because of you!”

“You hunted those fairies because of our accord. Has your Master of the City betrayed you? Forced you to join his line?”

“No, but he wanted to mate me,” I snapped, shoving a finger in his chest to make my point.

Aliath smiled. “That would have avoided any further chance of betrayal, would it not?”

“He is not my vampire-mate,” I growled.

“Ah, so you have finally admitted the Dark one is?”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but I refused to talk to a freaking fairy about Samson’s Darkness.

“In any case, Georgia, Isoleth will come. And next time, there may not be an Odin who requires a favour. She will be more careful who she picks for the hunt.”

Great. I was wanted by the Iunctio. I was wanted by the Light Fey. I was wanted by the God of War. And that didn’t even take into consideration that Aliath wanted to use my Hundr talents, and Gregor wanted to use me in any way he could, and Jett just wanted me for something I hadn’t yet managed to work out.

Great. Just fucking great.

I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled.

“Very attractive,” Aliath said dryly. “But it will not save you or yours from Isoleth.”

“She could go after someone I care about,” I said, suddenly envisaging how many people that now counted.

I’d lowered my guard. I’d let too many in. I’d weakened myself.

Yes, said the Dark Shadow softly. But we have a mate.

That’s all that really mattered to her.

Not yet we don’t, I said to be petty.

Then return and submit. Together we will be stronger.

I didn’t have an answer for her that seemed snarky enough, so I said nothing.

I looked at the fairy beside me. He’d dimmed his aura or whatever it was they had that made you lose your train of thought. I was aware he’d done it on purpose to lull me into a false sense of security.

Fuck.

I shook my head.

“Would you help me if I asked?”

“Are you asking, Hundr?”

So, we were speaking officially, then.

“Not yet,” I said. “But I might.” I might have to, that is.

“You will not know until you ask.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Typical evasive fairy shenanigans.

“Take me home, Aliath,” I said.

He stood up, and the smell of ozone hit the air. I couldn’t see the portal, but I knew it was there.

“I do not trust Odin,” Aliath said, standing before me. “I do not trust many, in fact. But I respect him.”

“He’s Isoleth’s husband,” I pointed out.

“Yes. But he is also the only member of the Light Fey to have tried to take Isoleth’s head. To have attempted to right what is so wrong in Ljósálfar.”

Some marital disharmony there.

“What are you telling me?” I asked.

“Only to be wary,” he said. “And use all of your available assets when she attacks.”

I studied the fairy.

“I’m not sure if I should thank you or tell you to fuck off,” I finally said. “There isn’t a fairy alive I’d trust at my back, and you know it.”

He stared at me then with a strange look on his face. I thought perhaps it was regret, but I couldn’t scent any cheesecake.

Then Aliath, Herra of the Hár Lords, Prince of Dökkálfa, held his arm up and indicated I should walk forward.

How many times had he saved me now? I think I’d lost count.

How many times would it take for me to trust him? There’d never be a number high enough.

I nodded my head in thanks and walked where he indicated, stepping out onto the busy dance floor at Sensations. Christina Aguilera’s The Voice Within met my ears. Something about trusting the voice inside like you would an old friend. The Dark Shadow liked that.

I sighed. I was home. But I felt different. I felt changed somehow.

The music pulsed, and the low lights flashed, and the scents of humans and vampires surrounded.

I’d been to hell, and I’d survived it. But the distant smell of peaches made me think of brimstone and the memory of a disembodied voice made me think of the devil. Or maybe that was the green eyes of Queen Isoleth.

It didn’t matter. Because when a hand touched my shoulder, I yelped.

But no one was there. Just a human dancing; drunk and high and screaming prey to my Dark Shadow.

Damn Aliath for making me jump at shadows. Damn him to hell.

28

Disturbed

The next hand to touch my shoulder was real. I spun around, reaching for a stake that wasn’t there and looked up into the azure blue eyes of Jett Vardi.

I wasn’t sure what threw me the most; the fact that I didn’t have any stakes left now or the fact that I was face to face with Jett and he looked hungry.

“Hey,” I said.

His eyes swept down over my body and then slowly tracked back up again.

“What,” he said very carefully, “are you wearing?”

I glanced down and cringed. I was standing in the middle of the dance floor at Sensations on what had to be a Friday or Saturday night wearing a fairy bathrobe.

Fuck-a-freaked-out-duck.

“What, this old thing?” I said and spun on my bare feet, then curtsied.

“It smells of fairy,” he snapped.

“Kinda hard to wash peaches out,” I sniped back.

He blinked down at me and then pulled back his lip, showing a hint of fang.

“Oh, my!” I said, “What big teeth…”

His hand gripped my arm, and he hauled me off the dance floor toward the private door at the back.

Playtime was over, then.

I stumbled after him as he dragged me down the side of the building that led to his quarters, relieved beyond measure when he chose his office for this showdown.

The door slammed shut behind us, Sanguis Vitam swept out and sealed us in. It might have brushed a tendril of something soft against my cheek, but I refused to acknowledge that.

“You have been gone for three days,” he snapped, rounding his side of the desk as if he needed the huge monstrosity to shield him from me.

“Only three days?” I asked. It had been way longer in Álfheimr. “You know what we need?” I added. “A calendar for the time differences between here and Faery. You know, like they have for when the Full Moon is or when the tide is high. That would be perfect!”

“What is wrong with you?” he snarled. “You smell of fairy and blood. Human blood. And your own. When I saw you last, you were being taken by Valkyries. Had I not had to fight a dozen Taniwha off, I might have been able to stop them. You slipped right through my fingers, Georgia!” He snapped his fingers as if to make a point. “I almost had you. But I had to fight a dozen possessed shapeshifters in downtown Wellington right in front of a hundred Norms. I do not like being bettered by the Fey. And I do not like having what is mine taken from me.”

He was beyond angry. He was righteously fuming, and that fury felt hot and sharp and heady. My Dark Shadow sat up like a freaking meerkat and stilled. She’d always liked Jett’s alpha male douchebagness.

Down tiger, I said. Samson’s our mate, not him.

Yes, she purred. But he is nice to look at, isn’t he?

Jeez. My inner vampire was an alpha whore.

I shook my head and scowled at Jett.

“I am ever so sorry, your Highness,” I simpered, throwing out a hand and bowing low, “for leaving without giving you notice. Next time I’m abducted by a race of powerful warrior fey, I’ll be sure to make them stop so I can write you a note.”

“Sarcasm does not suit you, Georgia.”

“Oh, it doesn’t? How strange. I thought I looked good in snark.”

He growled low and then ran a hand through his curly hair. As usual, it was loose, giving off a one-fingered salute to the fashion police. Jett was in a class all of his own.

“I was worried,” he said.

My turn to still.

“There were a lot of them, and the Valkyries have not been seen for centuries. The last time they were here, they left death and destruction in their wake. The Vikings never fully recovered.”

Huh. I let out a breath of air and sat down on the chair before his desk.

“I ended up in Fólkvangr,” I said; the extent of my peace offering.

“I see. There are grumblings on the Iunctio that Odin is awake. Is this true?”

“Yep. I kinda woke him up, but I have no idea how I did it.”

“You really are quite something, aren’t you?”

“Why, yes. Thanks for noticing. I’m here every Friday. Be sure to leave a good tip.”

Jett studied me for a suspended moment and then said, “You are scared.”

The Dark Shadow growled low and long, and I joined her.

“What has scared you, wildcat?”

“I am not scared.”

“You reek of fear, Georgia. It is not like you. And to hide behind humour?” His eyes scanned Aliath’s bathrobe. “What happened to the marijuana leaf?”

“Left it behind in Fólkvangr.” Along with my Sire.

I refused to think of Xavier’s plight. He’d made his bed a long time ago and now he was rotting in it.

Jett scratched at his jaw. “Why have you bled?” he asked.

“That time of the month,” I said, but my heart was no longer in it. He waited. I sighed. It was all very civilised. “You remember the fairy I have an agreement with?”

He nodded his head, eyes narrowed.

“I paid back part of my debt by hunting four Light Fey spies.”

“Go on.”

“Isoleth was not happy.”

“You earned the Light Queen’s wrath. No easy thing to combat.”

“No kidding. She set four, and please note the precise number, of her hoary great big monsters on me.”

“The blood.”

“The blood,” I agreed.

“And yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” I said, smiling widely. The smile fell. “Aliath.”

“Yes. I smell him on you.” His nose curled up in disgust. “You should shower before Samson gets here.”

“Excuse me?” I demanded.

“His vampire-within will not like another male’s scent on your body.” He cocked his head to the side. “It is unusual for one involved in a mate claiming to stray. I am surprised you did it. Perhaps the mating is not to your vampire-within’s liking.”

The Dark Shadow surged to the fore and snarled, teeth bared. Red flashed across Jett’s face as she glared at him.

“Say that again, vampyre,” she growled.

“Easy, Dark Shadow,” Jett murmured. “I mean no disrespect.”

“You have caused it,” she snapped. “Bare your neck.”

Jett smiled. “Ah,” he purred. “I have missed you, my pet. Shall we play? I want so very much to play.”

The Dark Shadow paused, and I pushed my way back to the front.

“Cut it out, you moron,” I snapped. “You’re creeping me out.”

Jett threw back his head and laughed. “Georgia,” he said, “I may not have won your vampire as a mate, but that does not mean I have lost completely.” He leaned forward and stared right at me, a serious look crossing his face. “I am determined to win you, kitten. A far greater prize than a mate.”

What the hell was he on now?

“Dream on,” I said, lamely.

“Oh,” he replied, smiling. “I have been. And they have been delicious.”

“See? This is what I mean by creepy, Jett. Samson’s my mate. I’ve chosen. You lost. Get over it and stop being a stalker-vampire.”

Jett chuckled. “Kitten, this is far from over yet.”

Whatever.

I crossed my arms over my chest, scowling, then caught a whiff of fairy. I lifted my arm up and sniffed the robe. Ugh! Aliath.

“I need to get dressed,” I announced, standing.

“Your chamber has not been touched; clothes are within.”

“Gee, thanks, stalker-vampire. Going through my underwear drawer is not stalkerish or anything.”

He offered me a thin-lipped smile. “It seemed wise, considering the state you find yourself in when you are here.”

Fuck, it sucked to be me.

“Yeah, yeah. Stalker!” I said into my fist on a cough.

“In case you were wondering,” he said, ignoring my outburst, “the MPs have been dealt with.”

“I know.”

“And your name has stayed out of the press.”

Oh. “That’s good.”

“And Amisi, Gregor’s Nosferatin, is fine.”

I grimaced. I hadn’t even thought of Amisi and how she’d been with me when the Taniwha and Valkyries had attacked.

“She’s a Nosferatin. I knew she’d take care of herself.”

“Yes,” Jett said, not sounding convinced in the slightest. “She gave me this.”

He pulled out an intricately carved box very similar to one I had back at my apartment. Jett’s eyes coasted over my bathrobe again. “Clearly, you need it.” He pushed the box toward me.

I stepped up to his desk and lifted the lid. Two Egyptian stakes lay within it.

Thank you, Amisi. This time I would take the effort to write a note.

“Great,” I said and snatched the thing up as if my life depended on it. It possibly did. “Anything else?”

“Yes.” Damn. “Your father has been to your apartment four times since you left.”

“Four times in three days?”

“Yes.”

“My father? Are you sure?”

“There is only one Simon Deverell that concerns me in Auckland. So, yes, I am sure.”

Shit. He would have seen my face on the news.

“Did you, ah, did you glaze him?”

“Should I have?”

I shrugged.

“He is your father, Georgia. If he does something to jeopardise our kind, then I may feel inclined to interfere. But he is your father.”

“Since when has that stopped you, Jett?” I asked, moving toward the door at last.

“Since I decided I want you.”

I stopped and hung my head.

“You can’t have me. I’m taken.”

Not yet, the Dark Shadow said.

Alpha whore, I snapped back.

Coward.

Oh, for the love of…

I cleared my throat. Any more of this and I would be sanctioned mentally unfit.

“Anything else?” I asked between gritted teeth.

“Do you need some Light?”

I stared at my hand on the door handle of Jett’s office door. I stared at it a long time.

“I’ll be fine,” I eventually said.

“He can’t feed you, Georgia. You know that.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I am the Master of this City and Samson is one of its vampires. I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

I shook my head.

“I also saw what he did in Wellington.”

Damn it. Samson hadn’t told many people of his Dark talent. Even Lucinda, his mistress, didn’t know. I didn’t trust Jett’s motives here, but keeping Samson’s secret was more important right then than anything else.

I turned back to the Master of Auckland City and asked, “What do you want?”

“I’ve made myself very clear on that. But what you really want to ask is what do I want for not telling Lucinda.”

“I kinda hate you right now,” I whispered.

“Kitten,” he said. “We are vampyre, are we not?”

Survive at all cost.

“This information is worthless to you,” I countered.

“On the contrary. This information is important to you and so therefore important to me.”

“What do you want, Jett?”

“I want you.”

“I’ve chosen…”

“Samson is your mate; nothing can interfere once a claiming starts. But he is not your kindred.”

There was that word again. The one Amisi and Gregor had talked about. Kindred Nosferatin and kindred Nosferatu. A partnering. Beneficial to both.

But even though I now knew it existed, I still didn’t know enough.

“I can’t talk about this right now.”

“So, you will run. Like a coward.”

I bristled. The Dark Shadow did too, but she wasn’t above feeling sheepish that she’d called me one mere minutes ago.

“I am no coward,” I said through gritted teeth. “I fought four monsters in Álfheimr. I escaped the Valkyrjur. I survived the dungeons in Fólkvangr. Don’t talk to me of cowardice.”

“You are more powerful than you realise. More precious than you can ever imagine. I will not let you waste that power on another.”

“On Samson?” I challenged.

He shrugged. “It is not a falsehood to say I am more worthy.”

“You are not my mate.”

“In this, one does not have to be. In this, one must simply be the best. And you cannot do better than me.”

“A bit cocky, aren’t you?”

He stood up. And then he was beside me. So freaking fast. He reached down and took my hand, lifting it up and examining the palm.

“All that power,” he murmured. “Right there. You hold it in your palm.” He looked up at me, eyes blazing cyan and azure. “We would be good together. I am strong. You are fearless. It is a partnership that would thrive.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about and FYI, you’re still creeping me out.”

Jett smiled and stepped back. I felt colder without him touching me. I curled my fists and curled my upper lip, letting him see my fangs. No doubt, my eyes were completely red.

“Pity,” he said and returned to his side of the desk.

I stared at him, but he was busy shuffling papers and switching on his laptop. He was done with the creepiness. I shook my head. I needed an encyclopaedia of vampire lore. A Wikipedia page dedicated to all things kindred.

I needed to get out of here.

I opened the door without another word or a backward glance, and stormed off toward my “chamber”.

Why the hell did Lucinda have to move to London right when I decided she wasn’t a bossy know-it-all and could actually answer a few questions?

I slammed my door shut and seethed for a while, then took a shower and washed the fairy off. I was pretty sure Aliath hadn’t scent marked me on purpose, but then he had a castle full of fairy dresses he could have grabbed for when I came to, and he hadn’t.

Every single man in my life wanted to own me.

Well, fuck it. I was going it alone.

The Dark Shadow snorted in disgust. I ignored her.

Stepping out of the shower, I dressed in familiar clothes. Black jeans and t-shirt, big as fuck Mickey Mouse earrings in each ear. Take that, Jett!

I checked my reflection in the mirror and then looked for my cellphone, only to remember it was lost somewhere between Wellington and Álfheimr. I crossed to the landline and dialled from memory. A vampire picked up on the third ring.

“Desire de Sang nightclub,” she purred. “Where all your desires can be met and your blood pumps.”

“Really?” I said. “That’s your greeting? Your blood pumps? It sounds like a damn hospital or something. Better yet, a blood bank. Do you offer a lollipop afterwards?”

“Who is this?” she snapped.

“Oh, excuse me. This is Georgia Deverell from Auckland, calling on behalf of the Master of Auckland City. Please put me through to Amisi…” I didn’t know Amisi’s surname.

“Amisi? You do not wish to speak to my master?”

“No. Amisi. Hop to it.”

The line went silent, and then the distinctive tone of callcentre hold-music followed. I started to absently hum along to it, tapping my nails on the table beside the bed.

“Nothus,” Gregor said a second later, making me damn near drop the handset. “When April said she had a rude vampire on the line from Auckland, I just knew it had to be you.”

“So nice to be recognised for my talents.”

“Aren’t you though,” he said dryly.

I scowled at the phone.

“I was actually after Amisi, Gregor. Your vampire - and who the hell calls themselves April when they become a creature of the night? - got it wrong.”

“No, she didn’t get it wrong. No one gets through to Amisi unless I allow it. I am very protective of my Nosferatin.”

“Well, I’m a Nosferatin too, so you don’t have to worry.”

“You are a Nothus. I will continue to worry until the day you meet the final death.”

I shook my head.

“Amisi, Gregor. It’s private.”

“Why should I accommodate you?”

“Because I asked nicely?”

“I have yet to hear you use any manners when you speak.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Gregor.”

“Tell me what it is you wish to ask her.”

Power rolled down the line and slammed into my chest.

Fuck me, but the Enforcer had some Sanguis Vitam clout. I had yet to meet a vampire who could do what I did and “persuade” someone over a telephone line.

I tried to throw my power back down the line at him, but with what I’d recently recovered from, I wasn’t up to my normal standard.

My body sagged when I realised I couldn’t win this fight.

The Dark Shadow growled.

Right there with you, sister.

“It’s about this kindred thing,” I said, my jaw aching with the effort required to keep my fucking mouth shut.

It wasn’t working. I kept on spilling.

“I want to know more. I don’t know enough and I think I’m about to join with a vampire against my will and I’d like to have an idea of what I’m getting into.”

“Who wishes to force your hand?” Gregor demanded.

My lips clamped shut, and it had nothing to do with me.

Huh. Jett had placed a whammy of a spell on me.

I made some indistinct mumbling sounds without actually parting my lips, and Gregor sighed.

“You have a geas on you.”

“A what?” I said bluntly.

“A magical binding to prevent you from saying who desires you as their kindred. It is wise of them. Not many would tolerate a forced kindred joining.”

“Well,” I hedged, “to be fair, he’d probably talk me into it with cleverly chosen words and a hell of a lot of guilt over something.”

“You mean he’d manipulate you.”

“Well, yeah, but don’t all vampires?”

“Point. Still, you should not feel compelled to join with a vampire you do not trust.”

“Hmmm,” I said, without committing to anything.

“And I doubt you’d trust anyone.”

“I trust Samson,” I said before I could say otherwise. I slammed my lips closed, and I didn’t need a geas to do it.

“Then it is not Samson who has cornered you for a joining.”

I sagged again and shook my head. Not that Gregor could see it.

“What does it involve, Gregor?” I asked. He seemed to know a lot about kindred joinings and appeared quite protective of Nosferatin in general.

As he’d just pointed out, though, I was a Nothus, not just a Nosferatin. So anything he said might be a lie.

“I could really do with some guidance,” I muttered, trying to butter him up.

He snorted. “Save it, Nothus. But in this, you are in luck. I am rather uncaring of those who force Nosferatin to join, and as we have established, part of you is Nosferatin, so I shall help you.”

“Thanks?” I think.

“You will owe me.”

“Of course, I will.” I rolled my eyes again. “What do you want?”

“A favour in the future of my choosing.”

“Too vague. Narrow it down.”

“The use of your talents should I have a supernatural I need hunted.”

“OK, I could do that. How many times and when does this expire?”

He laughed; a deeply sensual sound.

“You have been playing with fairies,” he said.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Yes. Not such a bad learning ground.”

“Well?”

“How about we say once and before you meet the final death.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Or a dozen times before the end of the year. Your pick.”

“Bastard.”

“She-devil.”

I snorted. “OK, done. Now tell me. How do I avoid this and if I can’t what does it entail?”

“Avoiding it is simple,” he said. “Do not share Light and blood with another vampire.”

“That’s it?”

“They would have to be compatible, but that’s it.”

“And if I can’t avoid that?”

“Then, ma démonesse, you shall be tied to each other for the rest of your undead lives. The vampire will double their power base, and you shall earn immortality. Unfortunately for you, that is not exactly a bonus, considering you are half vampire already. But what you shall gain is death should the vampire die. Symbiotic is the relationship. Should you meet the final death, they will meet the final death, and vice versa. There are other benefits, that may or may not develop with time, but are of little consequence in your case at present. And, I should add here in the interest of full disclosure, I cannot tell you if your situation would garner a different set of benefits or hazards. You are Nothus. Most foul. And therefore, none has considered a kindred joining with your kind before. Should I ever meet this vampire who thinks to do such a disturbing thing, I will take his head for the safety and sanity of all our kind.”

“You done?” I said feeling numb.

“I could go on, but I sense my words have hit their mark. Good luck, succubus. And Nut help us.”

The line went dead.

I slowly lowered the handset to the cradle and stared at nothing.

And then I lifted my palm up and stared at it.

No. No way. Nah-uh. Not happening.

I grabbed my stakes, checked my reflection in the mirror on the back of the door, and left Sensations.

It would be a cold day in hell before I went back and faced Jett.

Of course, hell was Álfheimr, and it could get fucking freezing there.

29

Settled

There were forces at work which I didn’t really understand but which made me do things I wasn’t entirely onboard with. Like, turning up at Samson’s house just before dawn, making it impossible for me to flash home again and see out the daylight hours in the safety and seclusion of my flat.

This time, I didn’t even bother knocking. I simply used a splash of Sanguis Vitam to unlock the front door and walked inside as if I owned the place. I was antsy and nervous and absolutely pissed off that my body had brought me here and shorted out my brain.

Samson took one look at me from where he was sitting, reading on a tablet computer over by the empty fireplace, and got up and poured me a drink. He didn’t say a word until I’d taken the life preserver he’d offered and downed most of it, finally coming up for air and smacking my lips like some inbred gunslinger about to participate in the bar fight of the century.

“Hey,” he said softly.

The Dark Shadow sat up and preened, and then rolled over and exposed her belly.

Tart.

“Hey,” I offered in reply.

“Is it over?”

I stared at him. And for the life of me, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that no, it wasn’t over. Isoleth would be madder than ever, and Odin probably wanted to wring my neck and Xavier was still locked up in Fólkvangr.

So, I said, “The MPs retracted their statements.”

I checked his Dark. It was all I could see. I wanted to break down and cry. But crying had never helped anything.

“Yeah,” Samson agreed warily. He knew what I was doing. He waited for me to say something. To pass judgement.

I threw myself into a nearby sofa and took another sip of my drink.

“My dad’s been to my apartment,” I said, and he let out a breath of air he didn’t need. “God knows why. It’s not like he’s checked up on me once during the past four years. But I guess having your daughter’s mug up on the nightly news can make even the most absent parent participate in their child’s life. I can just imagine how that conversation would go if he did catch up with me. ‘Georgia!’” I lowered my voice to imitate my father’s. “‘What do you think you are doing? I didn’t raise my daughter to behave like this.’ ‘You didn’t raise me at all, Dad,’ I’d say. He’d shoot back with, ‘No Deverell has ever been a vampire. What will the board say?’” I stared at the bottom of my glass and said, “So, can I stay here for a while?”

“Of course,” Samson offered and sat down beside me. “For as long as you need.”

His hand reached over and long, strong fingers entwined with mine.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured.

I turned my head and smiled.

“I did think of you once or twice while I was in Álfheimr.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

We needed to. There was still so much unresolved. But the MPs had been dealt with; Mark’s case would be officially closed, even if he didn’t know exactly why they’d been taken and by whom. Mark was a clever boy, though, he’d know pursuing this would only lead to more supernatural trouble for him and the police. He wouldn’t want that. He wouldn’t be able to manufacture enough silver bullets.

And even though the threat of Isoleth’s wrath hung over my head, that wasn’t exactly new. She wouldn’t use the Valkyries again, Aliath had said so. Whatever she chose to throw at me next would take time to organise. How many warrior castes do the Fey actually have? I’d downed four of her monsters. She must realise by now that I was hard to kill. Isoleth was not a compulsive ruler. She was millennia old; she didn’t have knee-jerk reactions. She’d think about this logically and then throw every single thing she had in her arsenal at me in a well thought out and executed plan.

I had time.

I’d take my wins where I could and right now I was sitting on a couch in St Heliers Bay, Auckland with a vampire I had never really fallen out of love with.

“No,” I said, studying his chocolate brown eyes and smooth cream skin. His hair hung loosely over his forehead, a blond strand flopping over one of those very perceptive eyes. He watched me back, his body poised, his muscles almost bunched, ready for action. He’d stopped breathing, but his nostrils flared as if he couldn’t help inhaling my scent one more time before he became fully vampire.

His eyes changed to cinnamon and taupe and then a darker colour I associated with his vampire-within.

“Hello, Black Dog,” I said.

“Mate,” the Black Dog replied and then retreated, letting Samson take over again.

“Gigi,” he murmured and reached up to cup my face.

Samson could be a smooth operator sometimes. A charmer with that British accent of his. He kissed like his life depended on it, and he focused on the woman in his sights as if she held the answers to the universe. But this Samson right here, right now, was not the same man. He looked nervous. He looked worried.

And I’d made him like that. For so long, I’d pushed and shoved and denied I felt anything. And now when faced with my capitulation, Samson wasn’t sure if I meant it.

Samson Beauregard was a gentleman. He’d never take without being sure the gift was actually an offering. I had to take the bull - or the Black Dog - by the horns and make sure he knew I was offering.

I reached up and removed my earrings. One Mickey. Two Mickey. They clinked as they fell on the side table. Samson watched me as if I were the most delectable prey he’d ever seen. His eyes sparked with hunger, the anxiety retreated.

That was the key, I thought. He needed to hunt me.

Aliath called me Hundr. Hound. Because I could hunt almost anything. It took a long time for me to accept that that was OK. That that was something I could use to help others.

But right now the Hundr was going to hand her hunting title over to the man she loved.

Only for Samson would I be prey.

I lifted my t-shirt over my head, and he sucked in a breath of air when his eyes landed on the lacy bra underneath. Thank you, stalker-vampire. Jett had no idea he’d just made my mate’s day.

Samson’s fingers twitched; his need to touch and taste a constant presence on his face, in the lines of his taut body. But he held himself in check because he knew the wait would make the chase that much sweeter.

I released the bra clasp and let the garment fall to the floor beside me. Then I stood up and started on my jeans. Samson swallowed and leaned back in his seat; arms spread wide on the back of the sofa; legs falling open to allow a bit of breathing room for his erection. I glanced down and suppressed a snort at the impressive bulge I could see in his trousers.

My jeans came down, taking my matching lacy underwear with them. I stepped out of my boots and let the last of my clothes pool on the wooden floor. When I stood up again, Samson’s eyes were shining cinnamon and gold, his fingers crushing the sofa cushions at his sides. He licked his lips and waited.

His composure was astounding. I didn’t like it.

I knelt down between his legs and reached for his fly. Samson groaned. The zip sounded loud in the early morning sleepiness that is the eastern suburbs. I released the button and pulled him out, stroking firmly, relishing the feel of soft skin over hard muscle. A bead of pre-come pearled on top of his cock, I leaned down, keeping my eyes on Samson’s, and licked it up like he was a popsicle.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice guttural.

I squeezed and twisted my hand, stroking him up and then followed my fingers down his long shaft with my mouth. A rhythm began; a humming in my ears accompanied it. And then Samson began to lift his hips and urge his cock deeper down my throat on each downward bob of my head.

He didn’t remove his hands from the sofa. I found that kinda hot. My body responded with the need to fuck. I stroked him and licked him and sucked him until his hips were jerking and his cock was jerking, and he lost all semblance of that very English self-control. Just how I liked it. His climax was a beautiful thing, and I could have watched him do that for eternity.

But I was hot and wet and wanting, and the Dark Shadow had had enough.

Now, she said.

Yes, I agreed.

Run.

I pushed up, using my hands on his thighs for leverage, then spun in Nosferatin speed, heading toward the stairwell and his bedroom on the first floor.

I didn’t make it. The Black Dog was too fast. Way faster than I had thought he’d be.

A snarl rendered the night air apart just as the shutters descended for dawn. I was trapped in more ways than one but this time I didn’t baulk at it.

Samson’s arms wrapped around my body from behind, before I’d even made it into the hallway. He dragged me back into the lounge like a predator would drag his prey into his den once he’d caught it.

“Damn, you’re fast,” I said breathlessly.

“I have waited far too long for this,” he replied, kissing the side of my neck and then following it up with a scrape of his fully extended fangs.

My body shivered. His hand cupped my breast, while the other gripped my hair and tugged my head back, exposing more of my neck.

“Bite me,” I said, wanting nothing more than to feel him impale me in every possible way.

“Not yet,” Samson murmured and then pushed my body forward until I was lying over the armrest of the couch, my face on the seat cushions and my butt in the air. If this wasn’t a submissive position, I didn’t know what would classify as one.

All is well, the Dark Shadow soothed.

And the fact that the Dark Shadow was soothing me made me realise I’d stiffened.

“Easy,” Samson whispered, stroking my hair, my back, my arms.

I closed my eyes and sucked in air and then let my body relax.

“You are so beautiful,” Samson murmured, kissing down my spine and running a hand over one of my butt cheeks. “So fucking beautiful,” he growled, gently biting my shoulder and then licking the indentations he’d left there.

He hadn’t broken skin yet, I realised. And I thought perhaps that was intentional. The more he teased, the more he gave me almost what I wanted, the more I wanted it and the more my body begged him for what it needed.

He slipped his knee between my legs and parted them further, allowing better access for his hips. His chest pressed into my back as his hand returned to my hair, wrapping the strands around his wrist and holding me still. He hadn’t released my breast with his other hand yet; I knew that too had been intentional.

And then he rocked his pelvis, placing his cock between my thighs, and stroked between my legs.

“Are you sure?” he asked, because this is Samson, and he’d always ask first.

Yes, the Dark Shadow said. There was no doubt in her mind about this.

I searched my own mind. I searched for the doubt, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t there. But it wasn’t like it had been in the past. It wasn’t full of rage and anger and fear and betrayal. It was simply a low lying hum in the background, an uncertainty of what comes next.

I could live with that, I decided. Because this was Samson and Samson, for all the blame I had laid at his feet, had never deserted me. Had never failed me. Had never stopped loving me.

And I had never stopped loving him.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”

He groaned and lowered his forehead to the place between my shoulder blades. His body shook with pent-up tension and an emotional relief that I could almost feel. I could scent nothing. This was, after all, Samson, and scenting his emotions had always been hard for me. But I knew him. And I didn’t need to inhale to confirm that he was honoured and grateful and so fucking happy.

“I love you,” he said and sank his cock inside me.

I made a low growling sound that I wished had been a repeat of his words to him, but Samson knew me too and didn’t complain. He brushed his lips over my shoulder and then bit, not overly hard, but hard enough to hold me in place as he pumped deeper and deeper still until his shaft was fully buried and my walls fluttered around him in anticipation of what was yet to come.

He licked the bite mark, once we’d both caught our breath, and then he whispered in my ear, “I may not be able to control this.”

I snorted. And bucked my hips.

“Fuck me already,” I snapped.

He laughed a low chuckle and said, “It’s called mating, Georgia. Get used to it.”

And then he started to move and the room, the house, the world disappeared. His body moulded to mine and his cock plunged repeatedly. In and out and then in so deep, I felt him everywhere. And then a slow withdrawal, followed by a frantic advance, and the more he did it, the closer I came to release. To something more than a simple orgasm.

“Yes,” I said when he slammed back in. “Harder,” I urged as he gripped me unforgivingly and held me still for his plundering.

Samson took, and he gave, and he stole every future sexual encounter I would ever have because none could ever come close to this.

My climax hit with the power to take out whole cities, my Light thrummed and burst apart around us. His Sanguis Vitam wrapped around me, and then he let go of my hair, slipped his wrist in front of my mouth, and bit down hard on my neck.

I didn’t hesitate. My fangs lengthened, a growl emerged from the back of my throat, and then I was drinking ambrosia; Samson’s blood filling me up, giving me strength, making me come. And mine seemed to do the very same for him.

He growled. I growled. The Dark Shadow rose up and growled with me. And then I saw him. I saw the Black Dog. I don’t know how. I couldn’t explain it. But he was there, and my Dark Shadow was there, and they stared at each other for what felt like a very long time but was possibly only seconds. He was huge. His eyes were all red, like the Dark Shadow’s eyes, like mine are when I go all vamp. He was frightening, but he didn’t frighten me. And then the dog approached. And my Dark Shadow snarled. Submission might have been the name of the game, but she’d never go quietly.

The Black Dog snapped. The Dark Shadow slashed out with her claws. And then he pounced, and she gave him what he wanted. Her neck. His bite was brutal. There’s no other word for it. I crooned to my Dark Shadow even as she screamed her defiance. And then the bite became something else. Something exquisite.

Mate, the Black Dog said, and I felt the love in that word as if it were tangible.

Mate, the Dark Shadow replied, and she wrapped herself around his body.

I came back to the room, to Samson surging into me, to his lips on my skin and his hand on my breast and my fangs sunk deep into his vein. Blood flooded down my throat. It tasted divine, like a dark red wine laced with spices and oddly blueberries. I wanted more. I wanted it all. But this was Samson, and there was nothing I wanted more than for Samson to be OK. To be healthy and happy and safe.

So, I withdrew my fangs and licked the wound closed as he did the same to my neck, breathing heavily.

And then his body took over, and I let myself go, both of us reaching our climax together.

Light burst apart with Sanguis Vitam wrapped around it. Somewhere glass shattered, but I couldn’t have cared less. Samson’s movements slowed, and we lay on the armrest of the couch, panting.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Fuck,” I agreed.

And then I felt him grow hard again as if we hadn’t just had a marathon session involving blood and Sanguis Vitam and Light and a mating.

I opened my mouth to ask if that was it, if that meant we were mates, because I didn’t feel any different.

And then Samson pulled out, spun me around, threw me back on the couch proper, and claimed me. Took me. Fucked me into oblivion. I screamed when I came. He growled and bit me again when he climaxed. And then we lay there, recovering, and I thought I’d been hit by a two-tonne truck, and he laughed and said, “Me too.”

“What did you just say?” I asked, shaking my head at him.

“Hold that thought,” he replied, and sat up, taking me with him, placing my knees either side of his thighs, and then lowering me on top of his - what kind of witchcraft is this? - hard cock.

“Are you sure this is wise?” I asked, moaning.

“Can’t stop,” he said, panting.

“Not normal,” I managed as he hit my g-spot again.

“You are mine,” he offered which made no sense at all. “Does,” he grunted, surging up into me as he held my hips firmly and pulled me down on his lethal shaft.

I came then, unable to form a coherent response. Samson followed me, his release hot and wet and hitting places inside I wasn’t even aware I had.

I collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face between my boobs.

“Mine,” he said.

“Don’t go getting all neanderthal,” I told him.

“Mate,” he corrected.

“I’ll accept that.”

His cock jerked, still inside me.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered, already rolling my hips because it appeared I was a wanton hussy too.

“It’s the mate claiming,” he said and rolled us so he was lying on his back on the sofa and I was sitting up.

“You should have warned me,” I said, just as he lifted me off as if I weighed nothing, turned me around, and then slammed me back down again, à la Reverse Cowboy.

“Holy shit,” I said as he started to direct how things were going to go. “You’re an animal.”

He laughed, bucking his hips, hitting me just right, and there couldn’t have been a more glorious sound as Samson laughing with such beautiful Light dancing in the tone.

I couldn’t see him. I was facing the wrong way. And I’d had about enough of him bossing me around. So I leaned forward, intending to get off and make sure he was as Light as I thought he suddenly was. But Samson wasn’t having it, and he followed me until I was once again face down over the armrest of the couch, this time with my nose to the floor of his lounge, as he growled low and bit my shoulder, holding me steady for his thrusts.

The shutters whirred up some indeterminate time later, announcing night was here and we’d been at this for hours.

I collapsed onto the cool wood floor and patted it, mumbling something about it being my friend right then; the coolness soothing the hot itch we hadn’t been able to completely sate.

“Got any plans for tonight?” Samson asked, lying down beside me. He looked shaky on his legs, despite the amount of blood he’d consumed. But then he’d lost a shit tonne as well.

I smiled.

“Can’t move,” I groaned. “Been fucked half to death.”

He chuckled. His finger running down my sweaty spine.

“We should shower and eat.”

I lifted a heavy hand and then let it slap back down again.

“I vote for separate showers and take out,” I said.

“Georgia,” he murmured, kissing my shoulder, “I may never let you shower alone again.”

I blinked drowsily at him.

“Mate,” he said.

I grinned. “Mate,” I whispered back.

Finally, the Dark Shadow said and promptly curled up into a little ball and fell asleep.

“My vampire-within’s checked out,” I whispered.

“So’s the Black Dog. Very happy.”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. He still had some Dark in him, but he was mainly Light. But what really surprised me, and perhaps it shouldn’t have at all, was that his Light was mine now and not Lucinda’s.

“You’re mine,” I said.

He smiled back at me and said, “Finally.”

I guess that was that, then.

Epilogue

I stared at the fang marks on my neck and smiled. Samson had marked me. I’d felt the Sanguis Vitam as we’d mated, I’d even felt the unspoken question his Sanguis Vitam had asked. And I’d answered by lowering my guard and letting him storm right in. In so many delicious and sexy ways.

The mark would be obvious for all to see, practically a neon glowing sign saying Property of Samson Beauregard. Return to Sender. Do Not Touch!

I smiled and ran a finger over the top of them and then slipped on a clean t-shirt. Samson had already left for work at Sensations. Making sure before he left that I knew just how much he loved me and wanted me and yeah, well, that had led to a session in his shower and on his bed and then on the stairs as he’d tried to leave for the start of business at the vampire-run club.

I wasn’t going to follow him, even as my body told me to stick close to all that glorious sex-on-a-stick maleness and not let another vampire get within a foot of him. But although the urge to be close to my mate was compelling, the desire to stay clear of Jett won out.

Not that parading Samson’s Sigillum in front of the master vampire wasn’t appealing. I just didn’t feel confident enough to battle whatever Jett would be compelled to throw at me in his retaliation. And he would retaliate. That was just Jett.

Plus there was the whole wanting to join with me. To, what was it called? To become my kindred.

No, thanks. I’ll pass.

So, I decided the better of two evils was to face my father. But being the career avoider of all that is parental, I was taking the bet that he wouldn’t be at my apartment. Not when it was so late for such a respectable and upstanding citizen to be visiting.

I stashed my stakes in my jacket and slipped on my Mickey Mouse earrings. Only Samson had seen them, so they were still good for a bit of kitsch slapping. Not that I’d be seeing Doug. Sensations was off limits, and I was determined to keep it that way.

I walked out into the cool night air and sucked in the scents of the sea. The waves at St Heliers Bay lapped against the shore softly and the sound of nighttime Norm activities settled on the breeze. One of the restaurants nearby had a band playing. It was probably a wedding reception or something.

I smiled when only recently that kind of shit would have made me bite something.

Samson had taken the BMW, but he’d left me the Land Rover. I could have flashed. I would have flashed, or used the shadows, previously. But even this kindness did not make me run screaming. I beeped the locks and climbed into the behemoth vehicle and then started it up and sang along to the radio as I weaved in and out of traffic on Tamaki Drive.

Any more of this happy, happy, joy, joy and I’d make myself sick.

The Dark Shadow laughed, but she didn’t sound bitchy about it.

Mated, she said.

I know, I replied and smiled.

I found a park outside my apartment, which led me to believe that Nut approved of my current situation, and then climbed the stairs to my flat.

Someone was standing outside my door, and for a second I thought it was my father after all. But then Mark turned around and glowered at me.

“Where have you been?” he snapped.

I grinned up at him, patted him on the cheek, and unlocked my apartment door, leaving it open behind me for him to enter.

“Georgia? What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me, Detective. I’m just in a good mood.”

He grunted something that was clearly derogatory and then stood in the centre of my flat with his hands on his hips, looking all big and imposing. The Dark Shadow snorted. Mark didn’t scare her or me.

I’d seen real monsters, and they had bigger claws and teeth.

“What can I do you for?” I asked. “You have a case for me?”

“I’d like to be sure the last one is over first,” he growled.

I let out a soft sigh. No matter what I said now, Mark wasn’t going to like it.

“The MPs are all OK?” I asked first.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out a seat at my tiny dining table. “Complete turnaround which, quite frankly, makes my skin crawl. What the hell did your lot do to them? They agree on things now. Like political policies and those sorts of things. One of them has even jumped ship and gone over to the opposition’s side.”

I suppressed a groan and decided throttling Samson could wait until later; much later when we were alone, and things could get interesting.

“I see,” I said, turning the kettle on. I didn’t need a cup of tea, but Mark certainly could do with one.

“Well?” he said. “Is it over?”

Samson had asked the same thing. And I had avoided answering. Samson’s question had been for show, though. He knew as well as I did that nothing was ever over when dealing with the fairies.

But Mark needed to be ready for what was undoubtedly going to come.

“Remember when I told you about the Fey?” I asked.

I handed him his cup of tea, and he took a sip, grimacing. I was certain the grimace was for the topic and not the Earl Grey he was drinking.

“They have two Queens,” I said, taking a seat beside him. I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest, placing one booted foot and then the other up on a nearby seat. “Neither are particularly pleasant, but it was the Light Fey Queen who was behind the MPs sudden compulsion to force vampires out of their coffins.” Or to force me.

Mark wasn’t stupid. He had never been stupid, and now he had years of police work under his belt, so he was clever and cunning and could see through bullshit a metre deep. I didn’t underestimate him. Jett shouldn’t either. Not that I was worried about what the Master of the City currently thought about anything.

“It was your picture up on the news, Georgia,” Mark said.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I pissed her off.”

“So, this was all your fault.”

“About as much as becoming a vampire was,” I said pleasantly. There was nothing pleasant about what had happened to me, and he knew it.

Mark grimaced again and then lowered his tea to the table.

“Did you…deal with her?” he asked, not quite looking at me.

“If you’re asking did I kill the Light Fey Queen and then hide the body, then no,” I said putting him out of his misery. “She still lives. And she’s still angry.”

“Georgia,” Mark said, wiping a hand over his face as if he could wipe all of this away just as easily. “We can’t have fairies traipsing about Auckland City abducting humans so they can get back at you. You need to sort this shit out.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Work harder.”

“You think this is easy? You think fighting something with magic at their beck and call, and a keen sense of trickery woven into their DNA, is a walk in the park? I’m only one woman, Mark. And I’m new to all this.” I waved my hand around, indicating everything. “I didn’t ask for it either, so cut me some fucking slack, would you?”

“OK. OK.” He held his hands up to calm me. “Don’t go all vamp on me.”

I snorted. He offered me a small smile.

“But this,” he added, all business again, “this spillover into our world. Georgia, it has to stop. If you can’t do it, then point me in the direction of who can get this done. You mentioned the Master of the City? Introduce me. He’s got to be powerful enough, right?”

To fight Isoleth? Possibly. Maybe. Fucked if I knew.

I sighed. Maybe Mark was right, but outing Jett to a Norm cop wasn’t going to come cheap. Jett had met Mark already, of course. Mark just didn’t know that the man who visited him on occasion at Central Police Station checking up on cases he was working on, the man he thought just owned a nightclub on K’ Road and was all about the business side of Auckland City, was in fact a creature of the night like me. And not just any creature, but the boss.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

He studied me for a long, drawn-out moment, and then nodded his head. He downed the last of his tea and stood up.

“You’ve got a mark on the side of your neck,” he said, before placing the empty cup in the sink. “Did something bite you?”

He stilled, his eyes widening slightly, and then he flushed.

“OK, then,” he rushed to say. “Well, whenever you can set up that meet, just let me know.”

I smiled, stretching my neck to display Samson’s mark better.

Mark’s eyes darted about the room but kept being drawn back to my Sigillum. I sniggered.

“Something the matter?” I asked sweetly.

“God help me,” he said, crossing himself swiftly. “You are one fucked up woman.”

And then he departed.

I chuckled softly, reaching up to touch the mark. It wouldn’t be red anymore. It would barely be noticeable. Unless, of course, you were a supernatural, and then it shone with the light of a thousand suns and declared to one and all that it was there, and it meant something.

I scowled at the closed door to my flat, which Mark had just walked through. How the hell had he noticed it?

Shaking my head, I pushed up from the seat and headed to my bedroom. I wanted to pack a bag, so I could spend as much time as possible with Samson at his place and not run the risk of bumping into my father here at my flat.

One problem at a time and dear old Dad just didn’t factor into it. I had bigger fish to fry.

Sooner or later, I knew Isoleth would act. Or Odin would. I wasn’t putting it past the God of War to send his Valkyries after me. He wanted something; I just had to figure out what and then run the other way. But Isoleth. Yeah, she worried me, if I were honest. She worried the Dark Shadow too.

But I had friends in high places now. I was “entwined” apparently with the Herra of the Hár Lords. I had an accord or two with the Master of Wellington City, who happened to be a member of the Iunctio Council. I’d met the head ghoul of all ghouls in New Zealand and survived the encounter. I could even call Lucinda an acquaintance, perhaps not quite a friend, but someone important I could go to. If I were really desperate. And despite Gregor’s best efforts, I was going to get in touch with Amisi. I needed to know everything that Nosferatin could teach me.

Looking at it like that, things weren’t too bad. Isoleth could do her worst. I was prepared. I was mated.

There was nothing about me that was weak.

We are strong, the Dark Shadow said.

That we are, sister, I agreed.

Humming to myself, I picked my duffel bag up, making sure I’d packed a few kitschy accessories, just in case avoiding Sensations completely was out. And let’s face it, Jett could be bloody determined when he wanted to be. And then I walked to my front door, opening it wide.

Lying on the ground, magic coating it, making it seem like a glowing beacon dripping in iridescent blues and reds and greens, was a sheet of paper. Not paper, I thought, but parchment. I stared at it, and I stared at the box that lay beside it, and my heartbeat sped up despite my heart not needing to beat.

There was silver in that box. I could feel it. I could sense it. Not Fey silver thankfully, but silver I was familiar with. Silver that had been tainted with blood. Vampire blood. And ultimately vampire dust.

I reached down and flipped the lid off the box.

Inside lay my stake. I’d lost a couple over the past few weeks, but this one I’d have been able to pick out from all the rest with ease.

This one smelled like me and then not me. This one was the stake I’d used to stake Xavier the last time I’d seen him here in Auckland City.

He’d been back here since then, of course, with the Taniwha to take the MPs. On a mission for the Valkyries. But this stake had been in his undead chest the last time I’d seen him here in Auckland City.

A low growl rumbled up my throat. If Odin’s daughters thought they could blackmail me with Xavier’s life, they didn’t know me. Xavier was my Sire, but he was a rogue who had killed indiscriminately. A rogue who’d turned me hoping I’d be his slave and free him from their evil clutches.

Well, boo hoo. Poor him. I was done being anyone’s bitch. I was done trying to impress a father figure who couldn’t really care less about me.

I turned my attention to the note. The writing was beautiful, swirling and perfect. The ink was blood.

I stilled. The Dark Shadow felt only pity.

And that pity was for me.

I closed my eyes and stopped breathing, but the Dark Shadow is not a coward, and she refused to let me be one too. She inhaled and confirmed the scent.

Honeysuckle. And sunshine and family and friendship. And human through and through.

“Kara,” I said. They had Kara. They had Kara, and they were going to turn her over to Xavier. They were going to loosen his shackles, let him go rogue, and give him my best friend to lure me.

I stood up. Red bathed the hallway when I let the Dark Shadow out.

A growl percolated up my throat. A scream tore loose behind it. The building shuddered.

We hunt, the Dark Shadow said.

We hunt, I growled in agreement.

She is ours.

You bet your Dark arse she is.

I pulled my Light around me. The Dark Shadow unfurled her Sanguis Vitam letting the two powers entwine.

Together we walked out of the building. Together we hunted.

The Dark Shadow and I became one.

The Dark Shadow and I became fury.

The Dark Shadow and I would stop for no one.

Odin and his daughters had unleashed the hound of hell. And hell’s Hundr was coming for them.

But first, I needed help.

I flashed to Sensations and blew down the front doors.

“Honey,” I drawled, making the Norms scatter, “I’m home.”

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Another Bargain Book From Nicola Claire!

With Over 800 5-Star Reviews On Goodreads…

“I abso-freaking-lutely LOVED it!” ★★★★★

Genevieve Cain has just one dream in her life and she intends to do anything necessary to keep it. Sweet Seduction is her passion, her business and the most popular café/chocolatier/music store in town. But when her ex-boyfriend threatens her dream, she's forced to seek legal counsel. And the moment lawyer Dominic Anscombe walks into her life, things get complicated and very delicious indeed.

Sweet Seduction is an Adult Contemporary Romance/ Romantic Suspense Series set in modern-day Auckland, New Zealand.

The premise behind this series is foremost love at first sight. It does exist, I'm living proof of that. Mix in alpha males who know what they want and when they see it, set out to take it, claim it and possess it - completely - then add in danger, excitement and a dash of intrigue and you've got an adventurous, romantic, knock-your-socks off story.

Love at first sight has never been so dangerous and so very delicious at the same time.

This series is complete and includes the following titles:

Sweet Seduction Sacrifice

Sweet Seduction Serenade

Sweet Seduction Shadow

Sweet Seduction Surrender

Sweet Seduction Shield

Sweet Seduction Sabotage

Sweet Seduction Stripped

Sweet Seduction Secrets

Sweet Seduction Sayonara

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“Dystopian At Its Finest”

& For Less Than The Cost Of A Cup of Coffee…

“ELITE.WAS.AWESOME! No joke, this book was freaking amazing.” ★★★★★

Selena Carstairs has been raised an Elite. She lives the life of privileged luxury, never wanting for anything. But her world is not what it seems... The island of Wánměi has a strict set of rules. Be a model Citizen and all will be rewarded. Disobey the law and the consequences are dire. For Selena, the urge to defy is in her blood. Out of boredom? Or something else?

The Citizen Saga is a Totalitarian Dystopia set in a mildly futuristic world, with hints of Cyberpunk, Romantic Suspense and heart palpitating adventure.

In a world where rules define model behaviour, and stepping outside the parameters set has drastic consequences, one woman inadvertently starts a war.

Have you been a model Citizen today? Citizen versus Elite. The battle has begun.

This series is complete and includes the following titles:

Elite

Cardinal

Citizen

Masked

Wiped

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