Dead After Dark

This story is dedicated to my mother-in-law Jane O'Hern who gave me my first romance novel many years ago, and my hero as well when I married her only child.

My deep appreciation goes to Sherrilyn Kenyon for her friendship and endless support. I want to thank Caren Johnson for placing this story and Monique Patterson for being a fabulous editor. Thanks also to Maureen Hardegree who as an early reader gave me great feedback. Thanks so much to all those who have supported my writing, to name a few—James and Terri Love, Jim and Mary Buckham, Walt and Cindy Lumpkin, Gail and Dave Akins, Bart and Hope Williams, Bill Gayton, Joanne and Hank Shaw, Mae Nunn, Annie Oortman, Darlene Buchholz, Donna Brown­ing, Debby Giusti, Jacqui Sue Ping, the RBLs, GRW members and all of you—the READERS—who allow me to write these stories. Please visit my website at www. AuthorDiannaLove.com and I love to hear from readers at dianna@authordiannalove.com.

Most of all, thanks to my incredible husband and hero, Karl Snell, who makes it possible for me to pursue my dreams.

1

Where are you, Ekkbar? Show yourself so I can send you back to the flames of hell that birthed you.

Trey McCree raised his head and visually swept the room filled with Goth partiers out for some early action on the night after Halloween. He telepathically listened to snippets of conversation from the partygoers' private thoughts as well.

Hey, loosen up, babe. . . . I want a man tonight. . . . What a loser. . . .

When the woman he followed moved again, Trey pushed ahead through the tangled mass of patrons decked out in sinister black outfits, bloodred accessories, and silver studs pierced through some interesting places. Most of the clien­tele visited in cozy corners on several levels, but that still left a packed dance floor of writhing bodies. Unconcerned over blending in with nose rings and scary hair, Trey had donned black jeans, a matching long-sleeved turtleneck, and a leather jacket.

He was here for one reason.

The Black Fairy nightclub in a renovated midtown At­lanta warehouse near a historical cemetery had piqued the interest of a woman he was not letting out of his sight—Sasha Armand.

Not with Ekkbar visiting this millennium.

Calf-high black boots pranced twenty feet away, a silver cross-and-skull zipper pull at her boot cuff flicking with each sexy step. The liquid movement of Sasha's derriere swayed erotically in time with the pulsing music, reminding Trey of why he couldn't stay in Atlanta beyond this week. Temptation was easier resisted from a distance.

Sasha was better off without him anyhow, if she'd stay out of trouble, dammit.

A wave of dark energy rippled through the room. Trey's skin pricked with warning. He slowed, immediately on alert. He surveyed the crowd for Ekkbar, but the eight-hundred-year-old servant of a Kujoo warlord melded with the jumble of noise before Trey could detect him.

Ekkbar had almost exposed himself. He was a dimwit, but a lethal one to an unprotected human like Sasha.

As a strong empathic, Trey avoided crowds until learning how to filter telepathic noise to prevent sensory overload. He now closed the gateway to his mind within a blink, watching.

That flash of metaphysical energy had either been Ekk­bar catching Sasha's hunter scent or another otherworldly entity who could recognize Trey's physical signature as a Belador warrior. There was no way the magician had picked up on his presence. Unlike the Hindu warlord's elite Kujoo soldiers, Ekkbar didn't possess combat powers necessary to detect a Belador. But he was a magician who could hurt a human woman.

Sasha paused across the room, swiveling her head left. Blue, green, and pink lights shimmered along the straight black hair pouring across her shoulders and back. She nar­rowed her eyes at something and then blinked. A thick ruffle of lashes kissed her cheek before she continued on.

Trey had kissed that same cheek when she wore tattered jeans and a pony tail that fit with her girl-next-door smile. Maybe if she'd kissed him like just any girl next door they might not have ended up in his bed having explosive sex, or on his back porch at midnight with her homemade whip cream, or . . . damn, he'd never forget the night at the lake with water cascading over her moon-kissed body when he lifted her high in the air.

He'd come close to reconsidering his future as a Belador right then. But he hadn't and couldn't change the past now.

Careful not to let her catch sight of him, Trey moved for­ward again, breathing the bitter smell of incense mixed with hot skin damp from dancing. He had to figure out what to do about Ekkbar without creating a disaster. Since accepting his destiny, Trey had been warned against ever engaging the warlord cursed to live beneath Mount Meru. A river of blood had been spilled once centuries ago when Beladors faced off against the Kujoo. Since then both had upheld an unwritten truce.

If he disturbed the fragile peace between the two, he'd open the gates to a war like none before.

Leave it to a woman to ruin a two-week sabbatical from his contract work with VIPER—Vigilant International Pro­tectors Elite Regiment—where he defended this world against supernatural predators. Gathering intel on Sasha had been a major pain in the butt since he'd been forced to use conventional methods. Any other time, he'd just read a per­son's thoughts, but he'd never been able to read Sasha's mind and had no idea why not since he refused to ask other Bela­dors. No warrior ever admitted a deficiency to another one.

Tapping her phone line worked, but the only inkling Trey had gotten into this fiasco had been when Sasha left a message on her home phone for her sister that she was out working and hoped to locate Ekkbar at the Black Fairy tonight.

A tall blond female in an outfit that would bring the devil himself to heel stepped in front of Trey, blocking his path. She eyed him like a new soul to devour. His gaze danced over the very revealing red and black lace jumpsuit sending his mind to search her thoughts out of natural curiosity.

No words. Just erotic images of what she envisioned doing . . . to him . . . naked . . . tied to a bed.

He snapped his mind shut, smiled politely, and side­stepped her, then glanced ahead to make sure Sasha re­mained in sight.

When had she morphed her business from researching family ancestries to becoming a private eye? Who had hired her to find a creature that should still be living beneath a mountain?

A roar on the dance floor drew his attention. When he turned back to track Sasha the crowd had swallowed her. He stretched up, searching. No Sasha. His palms dampened, something he rarely experienced during an op, but those missions didn't involve a defenseless woman facing a mon­ster.

Heart pounding sharply with each thump of the music's concussive base, Trey rushed forward, parting the sea of macabre costumes. He reached the far side of the wide room just as a pair of thigh-high boots with a dangly zipper pull headed through a hallway then out the rear door. He could move fast as light when necessary, but not in public without good cause. At the back exit, he caught the bouncer moni­toring activity distracted and blitzed past in a rush of air.

Outside, Trey stepped onto an empty back street and took a breath of fresh air, enjoying the brisk late October chill. He caught a familiar tap of footsteps clipping along the side­walk in the direction of the cemetery.

Next to woods where rapes had occurred in the past.

Where the hell was Sasha going?

Moving cautiously now, he tuned his senses to his sur­roundings. Survival in his unusual line of work depended on always being prepared. A half-block down, Trey stopped next to the cemetery, trying to pick up the sound of her steps again. He felt another body taut with animosity move into his zone, the area ten feet away. Trey spun around, hands flowing together into a bladelike move that would take off a man's head.

He stopped barely a half-inch short of Sasha's lithe neck.

"What are you doing here?" Her blue-black painted mouth pursed with irritation and all he could think about was testing her lipstick to determine if it would smear.

"How ya doin', Sasha?" He pulled his hands away and straightened to his full height. From what he could see, she was doing exceptionally well in the black vest split open ten inches wide down the center of her front and laced with leather. A link of chain swung from the tip of one breast to the other.

Trey forced his tongue to remain inside his mouth and not slide along his lips.

"I'm fine. Now, what are you doing here?"

"Checking out the Black Fairy." He flipped his palms up in a "what else" motion. "What a surprise finding you here. Thought you hung up your spikes years ago."

Her eyebrows flinched in a self-conscious frown.

Oops. That might have sounded like a reference to her turning thirty in a few months, but she had nothing to worry about based on that bunch of hardtails inside the nightclub giving her the once-over. Trey should have sent an air slap across a few heads, but the petulant act would have caused a disturbance confirming his presence.

"Thought what I did was of no interest to you. And there was a time you wouldn't have been caught dead in a place like this, so why the sudden curiosity?" Egyptian-shaped hazel eyes boldly outlined with an artist's touch sparked with challenge.

"To tell you the truth, I was looking for someone." He hoped the coy answer would keep her talking and buy him time to find out who sent her to hunt for Ekkbar.

"So was I until you spooked him."

"Me?" There was no way Ekkbar could have detected him, but Trey couldn't very well admit that. "Who you look­ing for?"

"No one you'd know."

"So how could I have spooked him?"

"You look clean cut for this place. The glasses are new, but they won't camouflage what you are. You stand out like you're a cop. Or a Fed." She snapped her fingers. One of her perfect eyebrows lifted in a sarcastic arch. "Oh, but that's right. You do work for the FBI or CIA or do something for national defense you couldn't explain or then you'd have to kill me, right?"

Not a conversation he wanted to be sucked into right now. The glasses were made of an optic material not found in standard eyeglass outlets. Rather than improve his vision, they protected his power that was directly related to his eye­sight.

"You were searching for a felon?" Trey asked.

Sasha's brow puckered with a look that said she should have kept her mouth shut.

He held a mask of blank emotions in place rather than grin at her slip. "What are you doing down here this late at night hunting for someone afraid of law enforcement, huh?"

"I'm working, so how about not interfering."

Now he was getting close. "What sort of work?"

She drew a deep breath that brought her leather outfit to life, then exhaled an aggravated huff. "What makes you think you're entitled to know anything about me or my life?"

"Look, I'm just worried about you."

She laughed, deep and scoffing. "That's good." Sasha shook her head with a flip of disbelief. Hair the color of sin washed over her shoulder and brushed the smooth body Trey had spent many a night dreaming of freeing from clothes . . . again.

"It's true, Sasha."

She stilled, her eyes slanting up at him, all business. "You lost the chance to worry about me a long time ago, so don't start now. You have your life just the way you want it and I have mine, which doesn't allow room for past mis­takes."

He had a life, not necessarily the way he wanted it, but that was his fault, not hers.

Trey felt several predators draw close. He spun to stand in front of Sasha and cursed his carelessness. A trio of twenty-somethings with matching jackets, matching dagger-and-blood tattoos, and matching cocky attitudes. Gang-bangers. He should have been paying attention to more than Sasha.

"Why don't you boys move on down the road, huh?" Trey assessed the one holding a gun, the leader. Stringy blond hair raked his thick shoulders and heavy rings on each fin­ger of one hand like a modified brass knuckle—a big ques­tion mark.

"Start walking into the cemetery, quietly," the leader or­dered, his acne-riddled face devoid of any emotion.

Trey entered the leader's mind and heard, I'm going to enjoy making you watch me hump yo' bitch.

This night only got better by the minute. Trey growled under his breath. He couldn't use his supernatural powers to hurt these guys. The Belador code required he only use force equal to what he was dealt.

Sasha stepped up beside Trey and he shoved her back.

"You need my help," she whispered sharply.

"No, I don't," Trey answered softly. "If you get in the way, you'll get someone killed."

"Do I have a choice in who gets killed?" she muttered.

"You gonna make me use this?" the stringy blond asked, waving the gun. Pretty confident pointing a weapon at some­one unarmed.

"If your plan was to piss them off, it worked beautifully," Sasha grumbled. "Either give them money or let me help."

"No." Trey rolled his eyes. Didn't she realize he had enough to deal with without her jumping into the fray? He loved her tomboy side that thankfully kept her from freak­ing out in a crisis, but now wasn't the time to play tough girl. Trey couldn't explain that money was not their ultimate goal—she was. He had no way to know for sure what this fool might do, so he turned to a limited power he rarely used. Willing his energy toward the shooter's gun hand, Trey paralyzed the trigger finger then forced the assailant's wrist to quiver, but he wouldn't be able to hold the connec­tion long.

Speed and agility were stronger gifts than his kinetic ability.

The leader stared at his vibrating hand, his fingers in an obvious struggle to fight the sudden involuntary shaking. Both his sidekicks backed away with worried looks. His hand shook harder.

"Screw this." The blond grabbed the wrist of his gun hand, trying to steady it as he backtracked, beady eyes locked on Trey. His two cohorts hustled in reverse with him. When they got a good fifty feet away, the trio turned and ran down the street, disappearing into woods bordering the cemetery.

Trey released his breath and turned to Sasha.

She stood with a hand on her hip. "Would have been smarter to give them the money. Since when did your wallet matter that much to you?"

He wouldn't have batted an eye over the cash or the credit cards, but he'd mangle bodies to keep her safe.

Trey shrugged. "Just punks. Had a gun, but no nerve."

"Is that what they taught you at Quantico?"

Quantico didn't train agents like him. Trey said nothing rather than lie to her yet again.

She shook her head, fanning a black curtain of hair over skin now pebbled with a chill. "Been interesting catching up, but I've got to run."

"Are you driving home?"

"No. I still live in the family house here in midtown. See you." She stepped away.

Slipping off his leather jacket, Trey fell into step along­side her. "I'll walk you home." He started to drape the coat over her shoulders when Sasha ground out an unladylike noise of discontent then stopped and wheeled to face him.

"Look, Trey. I'm a big girl, all grown up and capable of taking care of myself."

He wanted to go back to when she hadn't been so grown up and make things right with her, take the sting of hurt from her voice when she spoke to him. Instead he leveled her with a stare he used on new Belador trainees when called to do his time as an instructor.

"I am walking you home, Sasha. So we can stand here until you're ready or keep moving in that direction. Your choice."

She held his stare for ten seconds and then made a pfft sound of annoyance. She stalked off, contradicting her dis­missal by asking, "Why are you back in Atlanta?"

Trey dropped the jacket over her shoulders and ignored the evil glare she tossed his way.

"Taking a break." He wished he had more time to hang around. If his last op hadn't run so long, he'd have been back here in September like normal. Until tonight, he'd thought the sporadic trips home each year to check up on her were torture.

Not even. Standing this close to Sasha again and not be­ing able to touch her was shredding his insides.

The familiar dainty smell of her perfume spun away the years and the lost time. He wanted to hold her close once more and feel that connection he'd never had with another woman.

"How long are you here, Trey?"

Had that been interest in her voice?

"Two weeks . . . well, one more week."

"So you've been here for a week already?" Her question had been more statement, rife with disillusionment.

Trey would like to tell her how he'd seen her every time he visited even though she never saw him, but refrained from digging a hole he could drive a truck into. He gave an­other shot at finding out what she was up to. "Why are you hunting for people? You start working with the police de­partment?"

"Hardly." She walked in silence for a few minutes. "I'm a private investigator."

"Hm. So who did I scare off? A husband playing around?"

"Not exactly. Just a nobody," she murmured then turned to the right down a sparsely lit street Trey could navigate blind. Scattered leaves shed during a breezy autumn cov­ered the sidewalks he once strolled along with Sasha's hand in his—before he'd had to make the hardest choice of his life. He'd always admired the classic homes built here in another era, most of which were in restored condition now.

At the steps to the two-story Victorian home Sasha once told him had been in her family for three generations, she stopped and turned to him, her boot heel scuffing against the concrete with finality. Porch lights dusted a subtle glow over the swing where he'd told her goodbye.

His throat tightened at the painful memory.

She lifted a hand he thought was going to touch his chest, the desire for her to do so stabbing him deep. But Sasha drew her fingers up and away instead, fingering a lock of hair she twisted just like she used to do when she was ner­vous. His fingers twitched, missing the feel of her soft hair.

"I do hope life has turned out well for you, Trey, and ap­preciate your help tonight with those guys, but please don't come back. Okay?" Her eyes slipped away from his, then back, filled with an uneasy glimmer that said more than her words.

He would love to know what she was really thinking, but had developed migraines trying to reach into Sasha's mind in the past. That problem alone had sealed their fate to travel different paths. He could never trust his heart to any woman he couldn't hear the truth from. It was too unpredictable.

"Do me a favor, Sasha, and don't go out alone again to track strange men. Like you said, money isn't that impor­tant."

Her dark eyebrows drew together in disbelief. "I won't stay in business long if I'm not willing to take a few risks and go out after dark, now will I?"

"You don't know what you're hunting."

"Yes, I do. A man with information."

A man? Trey wanted to shake her. Ekkbar was not a man, nor did he possess any human qualities like compassion. He would do more than hurt Sasha for hunting him. He would steal her soul. But she wouldn't believe Trey if he told her.

"You aren't trained to deal with these . . . situations."

"You have no idea what I am or am not trained for. I ex­celled at Tae Kwon Do, for your information."

"I just—"

"Good night, Trey." Sasha flipped off his coat and tossed it at him, then turned and climbed the stone steps without a look back. She stuck a key into the ornate brass lock, opened the leaded-glass door, and disappeared inside the dark house.

He had his work cut out for him if he was going to find Ekkbar before she did and keep her safe as well.

Sasha held her breath until she got inside her home, then slumped next to the door away from the oval glass center. Cool plaster touching her back did nothing to ease the heat firing through her body and roaming across her skin.

That was close. If Trey hadn't annoyed her at the last minute, she might have embarrassed herself by asking for a kiss . . . or just taking one. She leaned around and peeked at him walking away. His coat was slung over broad shoulders that seemed to droop.

Did he regret breaking up? Was he wishing she wanted to see him again? She did.

He paused under the streetlight on the corner, the amber beam of light outlining six-foot-three of pure sensuous male she missed seeing next to her when she woke up. Maybe he was considering coming back and pulling her into his arms to ask for a second chance and . . . he strolled off.

She swung back around. I'm pathetic. When was she go­ing to truly accept that he was gone and not coming back?

Damn him for blowing her search tonight.

Damn him for questioning her ability.

And damn Trey's lopsided smile and his searing green eyes for still sending her heart into fits. She wished he'd kept his coat on. The last thing she needed filling her head before bed was the clean male scent she remembered vividly from the days of wearing his discarded T-shirts after hours of making love. How could he just pop in tonight and start chatting like nothing had ever happened between them? Like he hadn't spent nineteen incredible months with her, then just walked away two days before she turned twenty-one without offering anything that would help her make sense of his actions.

Actually, he had suggested, "You'll find someone better."

She'd tried. Boy, had she tried and tried and tried to fill the gaping hole he'd left in her life and her heart. But just because she still wanted to jump his bones didn't mean he could dance back into her life and start giving her orders.

Leave it to a man to screw up a simple plan.

Sasha straightened up and patted herself mentally for showing a strong front. Who was Trey to question her abilities and act as if she couldn't take care of herself. As if she hadn't been doing a damn good job for the past nine years.

Striding up to an Empire classical table in the foyer where three Ping-Pong sized balls of aqua glass sat in the center of the light brown marble, she passed her hand over the smooth surface. The globes flew into the air. She flipped her hand palm up a few inches beneath them, then wiggled her fin­gers. The floating orbs glowed and spun in circular patterns—her personal version of stress-relief.

Trey thought she wasn't cut out for PI work, huh? Well, he was wrong. She had more than a few tricks up her sleeve. Sasha waved her free hand, kinetically locking the front door and turning off the outside lights. She then headed for the kitchen where a light spilled from the open doorway.

"Where were you tonight?" Her sister, Rowan, sat at their butcher block table with a mug of tea that smelled like Row­an's personal blend of raspberry and mint.

"At the Black Fairy looking for Ekkbar." Sasha gently lowered her glass balls to the tabletop. She plopped down, hooking a handful of hair behind her ear.

"You shouldn't have gone searching for Ekkbar without me." Rowan leaned back gracefully, looking like any other attractive mid-thirties woman in the historic neighborhood.

Except her sister's face exposed a fragility Sasha had never seen before.

"You're in no condition to help me. I'd be more worried about something happening to you." Sasha took in Rowan's gaunt cheeks and shadowed eyes. Her sister was losing the battle.

"Your powers aren't stable yet," Rowan said in that older sister tone reminiscent of when she'd told Sasha she was too young for makeup at nine years old.

"I've been practicing. In fact, I think I'm pretty solid, getting better every day."

"Really?" Rowan smiled indulgently. "Then why were all the clocks off downstairs this morning?"

What? Sasha thought back to last night. Could she have misdirected her power when she'd been too tired to physi­cally walk through the house to turn off lights? The all-knowing hike of Rowan's eyebrow confirmed she was busted. Well, hell.

"Must have screwed up something," Sasha admitted, thankful nothing worse had happened.

"You can't just wave your hand, sweetie. You have to fo­cus your thoughts. That's why Ek—er, that's what I've been trying to teach you."

Sasha cringed when her sister didn't finish the sentence with That's why Ekkbar slipped past you in the cemetery.

"I'm working on it." Sasha had practiced daily before Rowan became sick, making her wonder if the witchcraft had caused her sister's bizarre behavior. Their coven refused to help, believing Rowan must have brought this on herself by performing magic for the dark side. Her sister would never do that.

Sasha didn't have years to practice if she hoped to save Rowan. She started to ask for more details when Rowan's head snapped back. The spoon her sister had been holding slipped from her fingers and clattered against the floor.

Oh no. "Rowan . . . hey, sis . . ." Sasha tensed with fear.

Her sister's head rolled forward, eyes no longer hazel but a bright orange color. In deference to what happened the last time Rowan's madness struck, Sasha stood and backed up a step.

Rowan moved so fast Sasha had no chance to escape be­fore her sister had her by the throat. "Don't. . ." Sasha squeezed out, gripping her sister's thin wrists now strong as steel.

"Find Ekkbar or you die, witch," Rowan threatened in a high-pitched voice that sent chills skating up Sasha's spine.

"Rowan . . . please . . . it's me . . . Sasha," she croaked.

Her sister's eyes shifted between crazed and confused. "Stop . . . killing me . . ." she whispered in a frail voice.

Prying desperately at Rowan's fingers, Sasha struggled to breathe. Her vision clouded. The world turned gray.

Rowan's fingers loosened at the same moment her eyes cleared, mortified. "Oh no, I'm so sorry."

Released, Sasha staggered backward. Rowan fell into a heap at her feet, crying, finally free of whatever had held her mind prisoner. Wheezing for air, Sasha massaged her ach­ing throat. Dear God, how am I going to help her if she kills me?

Anger and hurt jumbled her emotions, even though she didn't believe for a minute Rowan would intentionally harm her if she weren't possessed. Sasha squatted and grasped her sister's arms, helping her stand.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you." Tears flooded Rowan's eyes.

"I know, honey," Sasha assured her, feeling bad for her sister in spite of what had just happened. Normally, Rowan was not a threat when she slept. She seemed worse after sleeping, but lost her appetite and strength when she didn't rest—a vicious battle either way. "Why don't you lay down for a bit?"

When they reached the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Sasha helped her sister into bed, then handed her a set of headphones. Rowan believed soothing music helped, but Sasha was beginning to wonder if the music sounded like the soundtrack from The Exorcist in her sister's mind.

Once Rowan was asleep, Sasha headed back downstairs to continue her Internet research on demonic possession, since their coven had barred anyone from helping them. With their brother, Tarq, off on some trip where he couldn't be reached, Sasha was flying solo.

Not even Trey can help me. She paused at the bottom landing of the staircase, wishing she could go back nine years.

She wanted one more time to feel him deep inside her and wake up together. Give her that and Sasha would let him return to his precious bachelorhood and secretive work with­out a word. I've got more to worry about than how much I want him back.

Curing Rowan came first.

By then, Trey would be gone for another decade. Sasha sighed. Better that he leave rather than have Trey as a dis­traction. If she didn't stay focused on keeping herself cloaked the way Rowan taught her, Sasha would expose herself to Ekkbar before she was ready. The manservant couldn't be trusted. After she'd helped the little bastard open a portal between his world and hers, he'd slipped through and scurried away from the cemetery in a blur of pungent mist.

He wouldn't go far, not after negotiating through dreams for a chance to live here and now . . . as a red-blooded hu­man male with full sexual ability again. And she'd felt an energy pass through the nightclub that was evil. Had to be Ekkbar, lying in wait. He probably thought he could trap her with his ancient Hindu magic and make her his ser­vant.

He was a fool to underestimate a tenth-generation witch.

When Sasha did drop her protective cloak, she'd have Ekkbar cornered and ready to pay up for having been brought forward in time from Mount Meru.

He would cure her sister's madness.

"Ekkkkkkbaaarrrr!" thundered through the stone-and-myst world below Mount Meru.

Batuk's voice raced from the great hall, fingering out along pathways and tunnels in search of his manservant.

The warlord's muscles tightened hard with the need to kill, his perpetual frame of mind since being cursed to live beneath this mountain with his soldiers and their families. He should never have trusted Ravana who had offered Batuk and his people everlasting life if he swore fealty to the Hindu demon god.

Gripping the two smooth green serpents carved of mala­chite stone that served as chair arms on his throne, Batuk roared in frustration. The serpents came to life, hissing. Flames licked off the tips of their forked tongues.

Rock walls in the towering great hall glowed bright red like a dormant ember breathed to life, then settled back into their normal molten purple state that left the air cold as a winter freeze. Serving wenches scurried from the room. Soldiers lounging with concubines merely lifted a respectful glance his way then returned to their activity, having earned a respite from training.

Batuk glowered and slouched against his throne. There'd been a time when he'd lived a flesh-and-blood life as a re­vered Kujoo warlord, one his foes feared and women wor­shipped. When he'd loved one woman above all others .. . the reason he'd lifted a sword against the Beladors. What sin had he committed to end up in a place worse than Fene where the damned were sent upon death? None, as far as he was concerned.

He'd only warred against the Beladors to regain what was rightfully his. That and he'd trusted Ekkbar's assessment of Ravana's offer.

Where was his manservant? The spindly magician had sworn he was close to finding a way out of their demise or Batuk would never have given permission for the fool to ex­periment with a new incantation. Ekkbar's last attempt in­fested their underworld home with lost souls screaming in pain nonstop until he'd concocted a way to remove them. Exterminating rodents from an infested dung pile would have been easier. The stench the damned left behind hung in the air for decades.

If the idiot had blundered again, Batuk would . .. what? He'd already neutered the loathsome blight on his exis­tence.

A ball of smoke rolled into the room, parting the fine ni-har —a pungent-smelling veil of myst floating chest high— and stopped in front of Batuk.

Ekkbar appeared on his knees, head bent and hands in supplication.

Batuk almost laughed. No God listened to the prayers of the damned. "Where have you been, knave? I've called you for hours." His fingernails sharpened and curved into steel claws with the desire to rip out a throat. Ekkbar's.

"My lord, my lord," Ekkbar began in his echoing man­ner, his voice humble. "I've just awakened from being hurt unmercifully, most unmercifully."

Batuk flipped a braided strand of hair from his face, waiting for the eunuch to lift his milky-yellow gaze. Only Batuk and his elite Kujoo soldiers had double pupils, each surrounded by a ring of deep gold—to mark them as cursed.

What? Did Ravana think they'd forget? Wasn't like any of them could stray from this forsaken pit.

Ekkbar's brows puckered with feigned distress. He lied with the expertise of Ravana some days. But unlike the de­mon god who was safe from repercussions, his manservant was not.

"My lord, my lord, I see you do not believe me, but I speak the truth." Ekkbar crossed his delicate arms in front of his naked bony chest in a child's attempt at indignation. Torchlight danced across his shiny head wrapped with a cloth bandage. "I had just found a way to leave this—"

"What?" Batuk sat forward, not believing his ears. Could the fool really deliver his people from this hellhole?

"As I was saying"—Ekkbar adjusted his position, jade-green silk pants reflecting off the polished stone floor—"I believe I've found a way to leave, but—"

"Show me now!" Batuk bellowed.

Ekkbar frowned. His eyes shifted toward the heaven none of them would ever see, then back to Batuk. "My lord, my lord, if you'll allow me to finish, I might be able to explain all."

"Careful not to take that tone, lest you pay the price."

"What more would you take from a man who can no lon­ger bed a woman?" he groused.

"Do you risk finding out by raising my ire?"

Ekkbar muttered something, pouting about ungrateful warlords and all he'd done.

Batuk fantasized putting them both out of their miseries by killing the irritation, but none of his people could die as long as they lived beneath Mount Meru, a curse in itself since no one aged beyond the point at which they'd arrived.

But they could feel the pain of his sword.

Batuk sighed heavily. "Finish your tale, magician."

Ekkbar straightened his scrawny back and began anew. "I found a connection, yes a connection to the outside world. A witch heard my chants and communicated with me. I ex­plained my, er, our, yes our dire dilemma and pleaded for her help, swearing you would repay her handsomely. She agreed to help me open a portal through which we could travel to her world. As I was experimenting—with all inten­tions of contacting Your Highness once I could ensure success—I was attacked in a most unkind manner. Most unkind. When I awoke the path had disappeared."

"Who did this?" Batuk shouted, vibrating with the need to crush a skull. Who would have ruined their chance to es­cape?

"I, uh, believe it was one of your elite soldiers." Ekkbar touched his bandaged head in a wasted effort to incur pity.

"What? Batuk's elite would lay down their lives for their warlord and the people he protected. "Who? " The walls glowed again at his roar. Heat churned the nihar into steam.

"Vyan. I found his shield in the room when I awoke." Ek­kbar began wringing his hands. "My lord, he must come back."

"No."

Ekkbar's dull skin paled to a mottled gray. "Wh-what? Vyan is possessed with a fierce need for revenge. He rages over the loss of his wife and family at the hands of Beladors. He will go after the Belador leader, he will. You know what that will mean!" Ekkbar trembled, eyes turning pure white.

"Yes. It means if he is successful, Vyan will have found a way out for all of us and not just himself as you were obvi­ously trying to do."

"Not true, not true! I merely planned to test the pathway before inviting your wrath for failure." Translucent gold tears spilled from Ekkbar's eyes. "What about the curse? If we start a war again, we will be sent to Fene for a thousand years."

Batuk could not see much difference in where they lived now with the exception of eternal fires and becoming sex slaves to Fene's perverted creatures. However, he'd rather slice off his own manhood than submit to those beings.

"Vyan is one of my best strategists. He has a plan, no doubt. If he is successful in killing the Belador leader Brina, we will be liberated. Ravana swore if we were lured into battle and produced the head of the army's leader, he would return us aboveground and force the Celtic goddess Macha to prove her honor by sending the Beladors to their fate be­neath Mount Meru for breaking the truce."

Ekkbar's thin lips gaped open. "I don't understand."

"You said a witch called to you." Batuk stared off into the distance, calculating.

"Not exactly," Ekkbar murmured.

"That proves we did not incur this problem. You told me the last time you dreamed of the outside world the Beladors now inhabit all continents. Vyan will find a clever way to provoke one into battle and draw out their leader. If he is successful, we will finally breathe air into our lungs again, breed children, prosper and live as a powerful civilization again." Batuk lowered his glare to his manservant. "And if Vyan fails, I will tell Ravana how you tricked my soldier since he burdened me with you. The demon god would no doubt show his displeasure for the mistake of allowing you to live."

Batuk leaned back, feeling a sense of calm he hadn't en­joyed in centuries.

Once they were freed from this curse, Batuk owed his fealty to no one but his people. He would unleash terror on the new world like it had never seen before.

2

Trey parked his 1974 Bronco at the curb in front of Sasha's house. His plan had holes—like relying on her cooperation—but it was the best he could come up with this quick. He climbed out and bounded up the porch steps to knock on her door.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps inside reached his ears just before the door yawned open. Sasha wore a faded T-shirt that looked suspiciously like one he used to own and a scowl. Her eyes were puffy with exhaustion and her hair tousled as if she hadn't slept well.

But damn what a vision for first thing in the morning.

"I wake you up?" he asked, forcing himself back on task.

"No, I just haven't showered. Why are you here?" she grumbled then ran her fingers through her hair.

"I want to hire you." "Hire me for what?" she snapped.

"To find someone."

"I'm booked." She tried to close the door, but Trey blocked it with his hand. "Can't we talk for a minute?"

"Like I said, I'm booked, which means I'm too busy for a new case." Her gaze broke from his, flitting around as if she searched for a thought. "Got a ton of paperwork to do to­day."

He doubted that was the reason. She probably needed to sleep during the day since her client had likely informed her that Ekkbar preferred to move at nighttime. Trey wanted her client's name first. . . and head next.

"Come on, Sasha. I need some help."

"No." She smiled in an evil way that let him know she enjoyed the chance to use that word. He deserved the rejec­tion, but guilt wouldn't deter him from his plan. Trey stepped forward, his foot now also blocking the door's path. When he leaned his head down, she bent her neck backward to face him. She smelled the way he always thought of her—soft and flowery with a touch of wildness that kept him on his toes.

"I just want to talk for a minute," he pressed, hoping he hadn't completely destroyed everything between them.

"Should have tried in the last nine years."

Trey stifled a flinch, wishing on one of his trips home he could have repaired the damage his leaving had caused. What would he have said? "Sorry, Sasha, but I've commit­ted my life to fighting unnatural beings." Better to suffer in silence than to expose her to his world. Besides, he'd cut off his arm before he broke her heart a second time and he was leaving again.

"I'm asking as a friend for a few minutes," Trey implored. He'd camp out on her porch if she still refused him after hear­ing his full proposal. He needed her help to keep her safe.

"Fine," she huffed then took a step forward, forcing him to retreat. She closed the door and shuffled over to the swing that held too many visions of times past.

But he couldn't be choosy right now.

Trey sat down on the worn oak slats. Like memory cells springing to life, his body reacted with Sasha so close, shift­ing his heartbeat into high gear. What he wouldn't give to hold her in his arms and taste her lips just once more.

"So what can I possibly do that your secret hoo-doo agency can't?" she wanted to know.

He'd anticipated that question. "I need to find an infor­mant for a personal objective. Can't involve my agency."

"Why not use a better established PI firm? I'm just get­ting started in this business." She toed the wood porch floor, giving the swing a little shove. The gentle movement fanned loose hairs across her face.

He fought the urge to reach over and brush them back. Instead, he answered, "I trust you. "

She stopped moving the swing. Her eyes narrowed.

Trey didn't need telepathic powers to figure out she sure as hell didn't trust him after he'd broken up with her.

Sasha shot up from the swing. "Trust is such an overrated commodity," she said with the snippiness of a woman wronged. "Good luck finding your person." She stormed to the door.

"Suit yourself, but I'll pay well to find Ekkbar."

Sasha paused, her hand on the doorknob. "Who?"

"A Hindu guy goes by the name Ekkbar. Supposed to be in Atlanta this week. Been told he has information I need."

She swung around. "What information? Who told you?"

"Can't tell you all of that," he dodged, hoping to stoke the interest simmering in her whiskey-gold eyes.

"You and your secrets," she muttered then glanced away, inhaling a deep breath. When she cut her eyes back at him, she was clearly in a dilemma. "How are we supposed to find him if you aren't going to share information?"

We? He had her. "I'll share everything I can. He's ru­mored to be around Piedmont Park this evening."

"Really?" She clamped her lips shut as if realizing her enthusiasm was a mistake. "Why not go find him without me?"

"It will be easier to blend in and snoop around if we team up. A couple isn't as quick to make as a single tail."

She tapped a sexy royal purple fingernail against the door, thinking, then drew a deep breath, "Okay, but only for a week. If we don't find him after that, I'm free from the contract."

"Fair enough. I'll pick you up at five." Trey expected to locate Ekkbar and send him back beneath Mount Meru by tomorrow. In the meantime, his bogus PI contract would keep Sasha close enough to protect from the magician's clutches.

The only other problem was keeping her out of Trey's hands.

Ekkbar peered into a pool of water hidden beneath Mount Meru he'd located the first week he'd lived there. He waved his hand through the air, swirling the nihar . When the mist cleared, he chanted in his native Hindu language, words spoken only by past sorcerers.

He had to locate Batuk's miserable soldier Vyan. The filthy dog had ruined Ekkbar's plans, destroyed his chance to escape. Now everything hinged on the elite soldier's suc­cess. But how could Vyan possibly defeat a Belador or even the pair of witches with his meager powers? Ekkbar had to devise some way to help the wretched interloper. But first, he had to find him.

Black water began moving, spinning the pool gently. Ek­kbar extended his neck forward two feet until he could stare down into the whirling water.

An image formed of buildings and metal chariots Ekkbar had seen before when he gazed into the future. Vyan proba­bly hid in fear. The soldier came into view, huddled inside a dark room, just as Ekkbar expected. Rays of sunlight strik­ing Vyan's face from the slats he peered through faded away as the sun plunged behind trees, shrouding the land in darkness.

Vyan stood. He wore strange clothes, no longer dressed in a warrior's mantle of tanned skins. Batuk had been right about Vyan's craftiness. The soldier looked similar to others in the twenty-first millennium. Even his shoulder-length hair and two small braids alongside his face were of that era.

Vyan hooked his sword in place.

Ekkbar scowled at the warrior's stupidity as Vyan cov­ered the sword with a long coat.

"The fool is wasting his time if he thinks a sword will kill a Belador." Ekkbar extended an arm out from his body to his head, rubbing the slick surface in worry. He was doomed if the warrior's best plan depended on a blade.

When Vyan reached inside his pocket and withdrew a multicolored stone, Ekkbar gasped, cursing the thieving warrior, then leaned forward to confirm he was correct.

Batuk's elite soldier held the weapon that could ensure success, if Vyan did not destroy the world by carelessly wielding the Ngak stone's magic.

Trey parked his Bronco along the curb on Tenth Street then circled the truck. The short leather skirt Sasha had on would never allow her to make that step down with modesty.

She opened her door. "How can you be sure Ekkbar is here?"

Trey caught her around the waist and lowered her slowly between him and the truck. His gaze dove to the plunging neckline of her violet and black lace top that showcased a cleavage he'd like to dip his tongue into.

Wonder if she still liked having her nipples . . .

"Trey, did you hear me?"

Barely. Blood roared through his ears from the image his last thought had conjured.

"My resource is pretty dependable," he answered, closing the door and taking her hand. Both of his intel hits came early this morning from nightstalkers—vagrants who had died during natural disasters such as violent storms or deep freezes, then lived as tortured souls in the half-world be­tween life and death. Nothing new entered a territory with­out their notice, but all they could do was inform.

Unfortunately, nightstalkers held no allegiance to either side of life and possessed no moral code. They relayed in­formation in exchange for a handshake with a supernatural being. The longer the handshake, the longer they could re­main as a solid body—much desired over a vaporous form since they could down a bottle of wine as a lifelike ghoul.

"You know what this guy looks like?"

Glad for the change of subject, Trey nodded. "Yes. Short guy, about five feet tall, frail-looking, bald with a big hook nose, and . . . odd eyes."

"What are you going to do when you find him?"

Trey would love to know why she wanted to find Ekk­bar.

"I just want to ask him a few questions." Unless the cursed Hindu got near Sasha, at which time Trey would dis­pense the bastard into a million pieces. "We've got to be­have naturally and not look like undercover agents," he pointed out as they reached a stadium on his right where he'd played a few football games. He stepped into Piedmont Park, guiding them to the concrete route that wound through­out the park he and Sasha used to jog along.

His conscious questioned the real motive for bringing Sasha here.

Okay, so he wanted to spend a little time with her tonight. Where was the harm in talking? He'd missed that as much as everything else about her.

"I wish it was summer," Sasha mused, drawing Trey from his thoughts.

He smiled as they reached the bridge where she always admired thick clusters of yellow flowers during the summer. A middle-aged man in a newsboy cap yanked his beagle's leash to keep the dog out of a bed of pansies. Trey kept an eye on their surroundings, though few people were out this close to midnight.

"Haven't been here in a while," she murmured after they crossed the bridge and neared the stone and brick overpass decorated with ceramic tiles and halfhearted graffiti at­tempts. Had he unconsciously routed them to where he stole his first kiss from Sasha?

Maybe.

Probably. But that didn't give him license to do so again.

So stop thinking about how hot she looks in leather and lace. He grabbed at a new topic. "How's your family?"

"Same dysfunctional group you knew, except now I don't have to deal with them on a daily basis. Rowan lives with me."

"I'll have to say hello when I take you home."

Sasha caught herself before shouting no at Trey. She could just imagine Rowan flying at his throat, trying to kill him. "She's a little under the weather right now."

"Sorry to hear that."

Her eyes inadvertently shifted to his mouth. The same mouth that could be hard one minute and soft the next. Trey was making her nuts. How could he be so indifferent to her after she'd pulled out all the stops to dress for him? Couldn't he pay a little attention and flirt? Her ego could use the boost. He was all business. She would be too if she could stop thinking about how she had only one night with Trey and wanted to enjoy some of it. Was that loo much to ask?

One night because of Ekkbar. That slimy worm must have seen her with Trey last night and was playing with her. He was better socialized than she'd expected.

Trey stopped near the crossing beneath the old Park Drive Bridge overpass. The same spot where they'd shared a first kiss. Every intelligent brain cell she had said to turn around and walk away, far away from Trey.

But all the nerves in her body were doing a great job of convincing her she could weather a kiss without losing her heart again. She was an adult this time, one who should be capable of convincing a man to kiss her—or more—then go on with her life.

She wouldn't mind a rousing night of "or more," but the chances of that were probably as good as convincing him to stay after the end of this week. Trey seemed to be reconnoi-tering the area, not paying her any attention. She could fix that.

Sasha stretched her arms above her head and took a deep, deep breath, turning so her top shimmered in the ambient light. She wiggled her leather-sheathed bottom.

Trey's eyes whipped to hers. His gaze rippled with heat as it trailed every curve below her neck.

So he wasn't as indifferent as he acted. Good start. When he sliced a suspicious glance back at her face, she offered her innocent expression and grimaced as if the move caused pain.

"Are you okay?" His brows cinched together.

"I've got a kink, down low," she said, then drew another breath and exhaled, twisting to arch her back. "Could you . . . rub it?"

His Adam's apple floated up and down with a swallow. "Rub what?'

Sasha should feel guilty and not encouraged. "My back. I sit at the computer too long every day." She turned around.

Nothing happened at first. She remained with her back to him, unwilling to quit now. He grasped her gently at the waist with both hands and started working his thumbs slowly up each side of her spine. His touch sent streaks of heat across her sensitive skin. She wanted to moan over the incredible feel of his hands, wanted more than that. When his fingers reached her shoulders, she turned, her chest a breath from his.

"My brother used to hug me and crack my back. Think you could do that?" She poured on the innocence and held a straight face. Tough act to pull off when she wanted his hands between her legs.

Trey wrapped her in a hug that sent her thoughts tum­bling back to when she'd turned to him for escape from a family plagued with problems, for comfort and . . . for love. He slowly lifted her up against him. When her hip met his, she felt solid proof he was still just as affected by touching her as she was by his hands.

Oh yes, very affected.

He groaned into her hair. Hot breath raked her skin.

She folded her arms around his neck and kissed his throat, then ran her tongue along the bottom edge of his ear.

He shuddered and turned his face to hers, pausing for a fleeting second before his mouth captured her waiting lips, the kiss powerful and filled with longing that melted her heart.

No one else had ever made her feel anything close to this cared for in all these years. She'd grown out of her tomboy looks in her mid twenties, but Trey had always found her at­tractive. Where other women had been intimidated by his stature, she'd enjoyed a male that made her feel feminine.

His mouth stoked the simmering heat she'd thought never to feel blaze up again, until now. She wanted this man, craved him like a drug. Long fingers of one hand drove up into her hair, holding her as if he thought she'd stop. No way. She wanted him here, now, anywhere. His mouth demanded more, caressing her tongue with his. He reached up, grazing a finger across her hard nipples through the sheer material.

Her thighs tightened in reaction, damp and ready for him.

Why had she never felt this way about another man? His hand cupped her bottom and raised her up. In a move as natural as breathing, Sasha's legs wrapped around his

waist, wishing she could unzip him so he could drive inside her.

Trey growled with the contact as though he couldn't be­lieve what they were doing. She locked her legs tighter and rubbed against the thick bulge from his hard shaft.

She smiled, happier than she'd been in forever. "Trey, I want—" A force jerked her backward.

Her muddled mind fought past the sensuous fog. What the devil was happening? Another yank broke the kiss.

"Something's got me," she blurted out. Her eyes met Trey's. The fury rocking through his gaze took her breath.

He lunged for her and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her back to his chest in an iron grip. Feet planted wide, Trey shoved his other arm up, palm out.

Wind lashed the park, tearing at her hair. Sasha followed Trey's gaze to see what he stared at with murder in his eyes.

Standing high above them on one end of the Park Drive Bridge overpass was the silhouetted shape of a man. Red lightning bolts sparked everywhere, highlighting the trees towering above each side of him and outlining his body, which was well over six and a half feet tall.

This guy was larger than Trey and just as deadly looking. His shoulder-length hair and long jacket whipped back and forth in the rogue wind that had come out of nowhere. The rest of his body remained rigid as a statue, one arm extended with a rock that glowed with multicolors in his open palm.

That couldn't be Ekkbar. Trey's description of the spin­dly magician had matched Rowan's from her dreams.

The crazy guy held the stone high and called out, "She is mine, Belador. Owed for a blood debt."

A stronger force wrenched her body hard. She shrieked and clutched Trey, terrified of losing her grip. How was he holding them back against a magician's power? Trey's mas­sive build vibrated with strain.

With no time to question what was going on, Sasha searched for a way to help. Birds fluttered between the trees on each side of their attacker, back lit by the red aura. Sasha concentrated and started chanting, "Hearken elements, thy power I seek . . ." Her voice blurred with the loud roar of the wind.

A sharp crack rent the air. Then another.

She stared in horror as two trees crashed down, barely missing the strange guy.

The magnetic pull disengaged.

"Hold on." Trey yanked her tight then raced away.

Sasha clung to him, her heart banging her ribs. She opened her eyes to see if the lunatic was pursuing them, but no human could have followed at the speed Trey was travel­ing. Before she took three breaths, he'd shoved her inside the Bronco, cranked the engine, and tore away from the parking spot.

Sasha didn't loosen her death grip on the door until they'd passed the Carter Center, shocked as she studied the profile of a man she'd thought she knew at one time. But the feral look in his eyes tonight was one as foreign to her as watch­ing him battle an unworldly being.

"Urn, Trey," she started carefully. "Want to talk?" Did he think he could just drive her home after that and not ex­plain?

His neck muscles pulsed, pumped as tight as his fingers gripping the steering wheel. "Yeah, I do."

She held her breath, wondering how she could possibly believe any explanation for what just happened. And maybe he'd been so caught up in the metaphysical battle he hadn't noticed the trees falling.

"Sasha, what exactly are you and why is a cursed Hindu warrior trying to take you from me?"

3

Trey ground his molars then eased up before they turned into powder. What the hell had happened back in Pied­mont Park? The stoplight he barreled the Bronco toward changed to amber. He shoved an annoyed glare at the swing­ing lamp that switched right back to green before he reached the empty intersection and spun the truck left. Adrenaline surged so hard through his tight body he could wrench the steering wheel off the column.

He took a breath and glanced at Sasha.

She stared openmouthed at him in a stupor then recov­ered to yell, "Me? What are you? "

Touché. His fury subsided. He'd been so shocked at her dropping two trees he'd overlooked exposing his own abili­ties.

But he could not share much about Beladors outside his own kind and only to protect the tribe. The one exception was telling his mate, which Sasha would never be. Aside from the telepathy issue, he'd still never risk linking her life to his, a condition of taking a mate. And mating to anyone with powers was a major no-no that was rarely allowed.

Trey wiped a hand over his face, buying a minute to formulate an answer then went with a stock line that VI­PER's PR department doled out for government bureau­crats.

"I'm trained to deal with . . . unusual situations. That's why I can't talk about what I do. Our agency's identity and operation are tightly protected secrets." Not bad. That was a reasonable answer without giving up anything significant.

"If you think I'm going to accept a blanket statement written by someone who deals with damage control for your troops, you're crazy."

"Sasha, I can't—"

"Don't you Sasha me! I just watched you battle some­thing from another world. What was he! And what did he mean about being owed for past blood debts?"

Trey swung the Bronco onto her street, parked along the curb several car lengths from her house, and cut the engine. Tension battled for space in the sudden silence. He turned to her, expecting a woman close to hysteria.

Sasha had swung around to face him and leaned back against the door, arms crossed with a you-better-have-answers look in her eyes. Forever his tough girl.

"He's a Hindu warrior who lived eight hundred years ago," Trey answered. "I'm wondering why he's here and thinking he must have come in Ekkbar's place. As for the blood debt, I wouldn't want to speculate." He knew the story, but preferred to wait until he contacted Brina, who led the Belador warriors and answered to the Celtic goddess Macha. Bottom line—his Belador ancestors had murdered families of the Kujoo in an attempt to enslave the race, forc­ing future generations to make amends for past sins. How the hell was he going to keep Sasha safe from this demon and not draw the Beladors into a war?

"Wait, you know who Ekkbar is?" Sasha asked.

Trey leaned an elbow on the door panel and supported his forehead with his fingers. "Yeah, and you do, too. Time to start explaining, but first tell me how you dropped two trees."

"I didn't hit him," she protested and shrugged sheepishly. "I was trying to send the birds down to break his focus so we could get away." She stared off in thought. "Must have used the wrong inflection. But I had the words right. Or maybe I—"

"Sasha, what—are—you?" he repeated.

She sagged against the door. Her arms relaxed. One hand lifted to her hair, twirling a length round and round a finger. She answered in a soft voice. "I'm a . . . witch."

He wanted to laugh it off as a joke, didn't want to believe she'd kept that from him all this time. The embarrassed glance she sent him said she'd been serious. She'd never told him.

Who am I to quibble! He'd never told her about being a Belador. "Since when?" he asked.

"My whole life. My sister and I are tenth-generation witches. My twin brother, Tarq, is a warlock." She dropped her hand to her lap, tapping her fingers on one another.

"What about your parents? What are they?"

"Just plain dysfunctional." A wry grin touched her lips. "They aren't our biological parents. Rowan tried to tell me they weren't when I was a child, but I wouldn't believe her. When she moved in with me, I finally understood that she was a witch . . . and I was, too. Together, we found out our adoptive parents had inherited us from some distant cousin, but the records are vague. The house was given to our adop­tive parents through a legal network that's been impossible to break through. That's why I started researching ancestries—trying to uncover mine—but my parents cov­ered their tracks well."

"So you never realized you were a witch?" he said, still amazed at her admission.

"I should have since my ear drove me crazy sometimes." "What do you mean?"

"After Rowan convinced me about being a witch, she explained that our ear burns as a signal when an unknown witch is nearby. The stronger the sensation, the stronger the witch."

"Why did trees come down instead of the birds?" he asked.

Her lips drew up to one side in a chagrined expression and she sighed. "Rowan is better than I am, but I'm learn­ing."

Trey lost his smile, reality just sinking in. "So you don't have control of your powers?" She could have dropped a building on the two of them while his mind was lost to ev­erything except wanting her. Naked and hot.

"Don't look at me that way. I'm not dangerous, just a half-bubble off sometimes," she groused. "Back to the origi­nal topic. What do you know about Ekkbar?"

"Uh-uh. You were looking for him first. Why?"

Her smooth brow puckered in thought. "How did you know I was looking for him first?"

Damn. He'd screwed up. "I just know."

"That will so not work right now."

Might as well tell her. He'd have to at some point if they were going to catch this guy. "I had your phones tapped and heard you telling your sister you were going to find Ekkbar."

"You what?" Sasha's jaw dropped. She jumped out of the truck. Trey was right behind, trying to catch her. Leaves blasted away from the sidewalk, taking refuge in the gutter.

"Sasha, wait a minute."

She rushed up the steps to her porch, shouting, "You tapped my phones? I know exactly what you are—a snoop. Go away."

He snagged her an arm's length from the door and wrapped her up from behind, her back to his front. She struggled, elbows digging into his side. "Stop it and let me explain."

"There's no explanation for spying on me, you bat drop­ping."

"Bat dropping?" He started laughing. "You don't boil lizard tongues and eyeballs in a big cauldron out back, do you?"

That was the wrong thing to say. She jabbed him with a hard elbow, banging his ribs.

Trey lifted her off the floor until she quit kicking. "I'm sorry for tapping your phones, but I saw you leave the cem­etery alone at night a couple days ago. I was worried about you."

"Why would it matter to you after nine years?" she snarled.

Trey lost his smile. He didn't want to tell her about all the other times, but he owed her more than a lame reason.

He dropped his lips close to her ear. "Because I care."

She stilled. Her heart pounded under his fingers.

The porch light blinked on and the front door opened. Rowan stood before them in a flowing bloodred house gown and robe.

Trey spoke on his cell phone and paced across Sasha's liv­ing room while keeping an eye on her and Rowan, both curled up on the sofa. Rowan looked more exhausted than possessed, but Trey kept close watch of her in case she changed.

"Give me Findley," Trey said, asking for his VIPER field contact in Virginia. If the rest of that bunch escaped, every supernatural asset at VIPER, be it Belador or not, would have to fight the Kujoo army. Until then, one warrior did not warrant a team assignment from VIPER. The coalition of unusual beings functioned as a paranormal intelligence and defense force. Agents were deployed whenever a supernatural threat against the United States and other countries commit­ted to peace arose, but Trey could handle Vyan with backup.

What a mess this close to November second.

When Findley came on the line, Trey explained the prob­lem in general terms.

"Why can't you get a Belador, McCree?" Findley said.

"Nobody available," Trey lied. He could call in an army of Beladors, but felt certain that would play into the Hindu warrior's hand to put his whole tribe at risk. Trey's agree­ment with VIPER did not supersede his oath as a Belador. He wouldn't trust a covert agency full of supernatural be­ings with the fact that his tribe could be destroyed by this Hindu race.

"I'll have to check around and get back to you."

"I need an agent now." Finding Brina might have spared Trey this call, but she'd ignored his first telepathic message—prickly leader that she was—and he was fighting the clock. If he had to battle this warrior, he wanted to do so before tomorrow at midnight. On November second, All Souls' Day, Belador warriors suffered a loss of powers be­tween midnight and dawn. The Hindu had to know this, which was why Trey needed backup to protect the women while he went hunting for Vyan.

"You can't just call in for an agent without getting this approved as a VIPER mission," Findley countered.

"Don't play red tape games with me. If we don't contain this and other warriors escape, authorization to send an agent into the field will be the least of your problems."

"I don't have anyone in your area," Findley hedged.

"I just want some damn backup."

"Fine. I'll send you Lucien."

"Lucien?" Trey started in a low voice full of menace. "I tell you we could be talking Armageddon if this gets out of control and you give me a new guy with an attitude?" He could all but see Findley bow up. Trey didn't give a rat's ass. He'd heard the scuttle on Lucien.

"You're just a contractor."

Trey stopped pacing. "One trying to save your ass along with the rest of this world so don't take that tone with me," he warned. Most agents around VIPER had the survival skills to back off when Trey was pissed, like now.

After a slight hesitation, Findley said, "He's all I can get to you quick and he can only stay three days."

Seventy-two hours? No problem. Trey intended to deal with this Hindu in the next twenty-four hours. "Send him. I'll call if I need anything else." He hung up and dropped the phone into his pocket then turned to Sasha and her sister.

"Can you keep Sasha safe?" Rowan asked without pre­amble.

"Yes," Trey answered swiftly, though he hadn't figured out how to protect her and keep his tribe out of a war. The thought of letting either down kinked his insides.

"I can protect myself." Sasha jumped up from the sofa.

"In that case, I'll stay here and out of the way unless you need me," Rowan told Trey.

"That would make it easier for me to keep an eye on both of you," Trey said. What triggered Rowan's madness, and was she getting worse as Sasha suspected? That must be why the warrior wanted Sasha rather than Rowan, the stron­ger witch.

"Hey, I am in the room," Sasha snapped at both of them.

Rowan stood, her cardinal-red silk gown and robe swirl­ing around her body. "I know you're here, sweetie. You're getting better at handling your powers all the time and will be powerful one day, but you're no match for this Hindu warrior right now." She hugged Sasha, wished them good night, and swept from the room with a soft, "Nice to see you back, Trey."

"You still haven't explained everything," Sasha said to Trey and crossed the room to face him. "I've told you every­thing, including my deal with Ekkbar. Your turn."

He'd dodged Findley, but Sasha was another story. He didn't like lying to her, but was limited in what he could disclose. "I can't tell you everything about me."

She shook her head, the disappointment on her face too similar to the day he'd left her sitting on the porch. That cut deeper than he'd have thought.

When she started to walk away, Trey grabbed her arm gently, drawing her to him so that he could whisper in her ear. "I was born under a star, chosen at birth to . . . to re­ceive powers upon adulthood if I accepted my destiny, which I did. But I've taken an oath that includes not sharing any­thing about this group, my tribe. It's not that I don't trust you with the information. Not even my dad knows as much as you do at this moment and I trust him with my life."

Sasha leaned back to face him. Her eyes lost all anger and softened. His heartbeats punctuated the wait while she stud­ied his face, then gave a little nod and lifted a hand to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. The sweet gesture soothed the sharp edge of his nerves. She whispered, "I understand."

One look into her eyes and he could tell she did under­stand. She'd always accepted him as he was, not trying to change him. No other woman had ever reached so far inside Trey the way Sasha had. If only they could be together, but now there were more hurdles than the telepathy. Brina was difficult on a good day. Fat chance she'd approve a match with a witch.

"When will backup arrive?" Sasha asked.

"Probably not before dawn."

"You didn't finish what you started in the park." Sasha lifted toward him and Trey gave up the battle not to kiss her. He cupped her chin and lowered his head. Her arms en­twined his neck, her lips meeting his. Before he knew it, she was in his arms, shifting her hips erotically against him. The heat that had flamed between them threatened to incin­erate him from the inside out. Desire raged through every nerve in his body, fanning a hot ember of want so strong he shook with need.

He'd never stopped wanting this woman, but after hurt­ing her once by walking away, he couldn't allow this to get out of hand then disappear again.

She broke away from his mouth and whispered, "Don't leave me tonight." With two fingers to his lips, she silenced him when he started to speak. "I know you're leaving Atlanta—and me—when this is over. I'll let you go, but I need you now. I want you now." Her amber eyes flared with determination.

He wavered on the threshold of a decision he might regret for many years . . . no matter which choice he made.

She licked her lips and mouthed the word "please."

He closed his eyes and tried to convince himself to back away. He really did. Instead, when Trey opened his eyes, he captured her lips. Pleasure burst in his chest. She wanted him. Would understand when he had to leave again.

How could he back away after that?

When he scooped a hand under her bottom, Sasha's legs came up around his waist. She reached down and stroked his raging erection. He hissed at the contact, sure his growl shook the rafters. Not a wise move with her sister upstairs. The one who went into anti-Christ mode with no warning. Blood keened in his ears.

"My room," Sasha breathed between kisses.

"What about Rowan?"

"Sleeps with headphones on . . . music helps."

"What about Tarq?"

"On a sabbatical somewhere. Trey, you're not moving."

His feet heard her and strode to the rear of the house. When he carried her into the dark bedroom, her lips never left his as she waved a hand. Flames danced on candles ar­ranged on a silver tray resting upon her dresser and soft rock music began to play. Trey shut the door with his foot, then crossed the room to her four-poster bed where he lowered her to the deep blue satin coverlet. Of all the places he'd made love to her indoors and outdoors, he'd never touched her in this room.

Trey paused and smoothed a hand over her cheek. "I don't deserve this—or you—and the last thing I want to do is hurt you . . . again."

"I know. Stop worrying. I mean it when I say I'm okay with this and you leaving." Sasha rose up, unsnapped his pants, then unzipped the fly. She reached inside to grasp him then took him into her mouth.

Trey sucked in a breath and croaked out a muttered curse at how close she came to sending him into oblivion. "Not yet, baby, or this won't be the long drawn-out affair I have in mind." He eased her back, shaking his head at her wicked grin, then shed his clothes with ruthless efficiency. Leaning a knee down beside her, he lifted the edge of her lacy top and worked it up the slender arms Sasha stretched above her head.

"I'm so ready," she breathed out, but he was taking his sweet time.

No bra. Just pure woman. His woman.

When he had the filmy material at her shoulders he stopped, leaving her eyes covered and her arms bound, vul­nerable. She purred in anticipation. Trey lowered his mouth to her breast, licking the tip then the soft underside with his tongue. Sweet.

Sasha shivered and sucked in sharply.

He slowly peeled off her snug pants, kissing the inside of her legs, which tasted salty where the warm scent of leather lingered on her thighs. So fitting for his wild woman who could be like buttery leather—tough and soft at the same time. He went back for the sliver of black underwear, lightly scraping his finger across the tight silk material shielding her folds.

She quivered. Her fingers locked around the downy pil­low beneath her head. Her chest curved up with the motion.

Oh yeah, baby.

Trey stretched out alongside her and grazed his fingers beneath the underside of her other breast, barely caressing the skin, gliding along the curves . . . near the beading tip, but not touching it. Her back arched, feet digging in, toes curling, but she hadn't cried uncle yet. He grinned, enjoying every sweet minute of taking her closer to the edge.

She shoved her breasts higher toward his hand each time he came close to her nipple.

Then he'd move just out of reach.

Sasha's urgent moans grew into a warning growl. He smiled.

Trey raised his body over hers then lowered his lips, sneaking his tongue beneath the edge of lace to explore the smooth skin along her collarbone and kiss her neck.

She shifted her legs up and captured his penis between her thighs, rubbing gently. He clenched the sheets and mat­tress, clawing for control, then dipped down, licking circles around a nipple before taking the pearled tip into his mouth. She released him and bowed up tight, crying out, fingers strangling the pillow. He'd grin if holding back wasn't kill­ing him. Trey spread his fingers wide to coax her taut body back down to the bed then gently massaged farther south.

Firm feminine muscles quivered, anticipating what she could not see. He caressed her hips, her navel, the insides of her legs and dipped his finger under the wisp of panties . . . only to slide them off side to side.

"Trey, you're killing me." She wiggled her bottom, obvi­ously trying to encourage him to move things along.

He did grin at her now. "You'll die happy."

"I 'm tempted to use magic to get you where I want you," she warned through the lace covering her face.

His hand stilled. "Don't. You might drop the ceiling."

She muttered something then snapped her fingers. A package appeared in her hand and she flicked it blindly at him. A wrapped condom hit him in the chest. "I stand cor­rected. Starting to have a whole new appreciation for this side of you."

"You wait until I show you what I can do. I have a few tricks .. .can hold my own . . . arrogant men . . ."

He sheathed himself and chuckled over her rant then sent a finger down between her legs. That silenced her.

Sasha lost any coherent thought and focused on what he would do next. Tiny flickers of light seeped through the lace covering her eyes. He was the only man she'd ever trust to put her in a vulnerable position. His hands held real magic. He teased her close to an orgasm. She tensed, ready, but his finger slid away taking her breath and leaving her mindless. He dipped a finger inside her, driving a sharp rush of plea­sure through her womb, increasing the pace until every muscle in her body had stretched tight, reaching for release.

He stopped just short again and she whimpered. His fin­ger withdrew and moved over the sensitive skin in tantaliz-ingly slow motion, touching her long enough to leave her shaking before fading away and returning, each time driv­ing her closer to the brink of insanity.

All her focus arrowed to the spot he refused to linger on until she tensed for the mind-blowing orgasm only to have it skitter away before she could take ownership. He plunged a finger inside her. She clenched. He pushed two inside.

"You're so wet and hot," he murmured between kisses to her breast. He pulled out of her again, his wet finger touch­ ing her other breast and tenderly destroying the last vestige of sanity she possessed.

"I want you inside me now, Trey."

"Not yet. I've missed a spot."

"You'll. . . get to it. . . later," she tried to assure him, but talking was beyond her when his fingertip brushed her wet folds, teasing with serious intent. She arched, reaching for that pleasure she was ready to beg for . . . reaching . . . then he massaged her G-spot. . . kinetically.

The powerful release broke her bounds with this world. She cried out and lost contact with the bed. Her body hummed, the sensuous delight rolling on and on. Pleasure rushed through her on a tidal wave. Time stilled. She floated, boneless and free of all worries until strong hands drew her down, gently pressing her back to the cool sheets.

Sasha panted, catching her breath, and opened her eyes to see Trey's face above her. The lacy top had been eighty-sixed at some point. In fact, nothing touched her but his rock-hard body. She took a deep breath, enjoying his musky scent.

He leaned down, kissed her lips, and whispered, "Why didn't you do that before when we made love?" "What?" "Levitate."

It took her a minute to realize he thought she'd held back when they were together before. "That's never happened before."

His gaze relaxed then shifted to a possessive look.

He cared. Sasha's heart pulsed, happy to see the truth in his face. He had to know they were bound to each other like no two other people had ever been.

If not, she'd enlighten him .. . later.

Without another word, Trey leaned down, his penis prod­ding her slick opening. She opened to him and he eased in­side, filling her. How could he move like a rocket at the park one minute and be so incredibly patient the next? He stroked deep into her and unimportant issues faded away.

Sasha locked her legs around his back and Trey held her to him then sat upright. He kissed her, his tongue lazily du­eling with hers until the kiss turned hot and serious. He scooped his arms under her knees, his hands supporting her back as he lifted her up slowly then slid her down his shaft with the same excruciatingly measured pace. She lost track of everything around her, swept up in a world that belonged only to them.

Sasha held his face in her hands, reveling in the feel of his mouth on hers and him buried inside her where he be­longed. Her orgasm was building again, wicking all her thoughts to the man who held her close. He leaned back, which shoved him deeper on his next drive and she gasped with the pleasure.

He murmured something she didn't understand and could feel his fingers stroke her nipples even though his hands were on his back. Lovemaking reached new highs with ki­netic ability.

The sensation torturing her breasts moved lower, target­ing the tiny nub that controlled her immediate world. His rhythm turned urgent just as he kinetically fingered the spot.

Stars zinged through her vision in the turbulent wake of coming again. Had Trey not held her close to him she'd have shot to the ceiling, but his arms clenched tightly when he growled her name with his release right behind her.

The familiar fragrance of their lovemaking cloaked the air and washed away all those years she'd missed him. She slumped against him. He lowered them both to the bed on their sides, stretching his body and tossing one huge leg over her.

Tracing a fingernail across his lips, she wanted to say, / love you, but whispered, "I've missed you," instead.

Trey brushed a long strand of hair over her shoulder, his verdant gaze filled with love she'd never expected to see again. "I've missed you, too. You'll never know how much."

"So why did you leave me?"

He glanced away, just like he used to do when he'd gather his thoughts before speaking, then sad eyes met hers. "After I got over the shock of finding out there was a reason for all my odd behavior and that my abilities were needed to pro­tect others, I accepted the responsibility that came with my destiny . . . as a Belador. That's the tribe I belong to. I had little choice but to accept my destiny since the other option was to end up an enemy of our tribe and possibly go insane from my undeveloped powers. I wouldn't subject you to that life."

He'd cared enough to walk away to keep her safe, but she sensed something more. She'd felt his love in all the silent ways a man showed a woman, but knew in her heart he held back something he wouldn't talk about.

"Was that the only reason, Trey?" Sasha asked, recalling the day he came to tell her good-bye. He'd stared into her eyes for a long time as if trying to discern something.

"I can deal with the truth, no matter what it is," she as­sured him.

He touched her cheek, indecision playing through his frown. "There is something else, but I don't want you to take it personally." When she nodded her encouragement, he took a breath and continued. "I realized as a . . . child that I could read minds; then later on as a Belador I learned how to com­municate telepathically."

His face had flinched when he'd said "child." What had happened then? "Tell me about the first time."

"It was with my mother." Trey's fingers drifted through her hair. His eyes seemed unfocused and distant as he strived to recall a memory. "I always told her I loved her when I headed out to school or when she put me to bed. She'd answer back automatically with a 'love you too,' but she never looked me in the eyes when she said it. I was in third grade when I came home to find her and my dad arguing. Her suitcase was sitting by the door. When she lifted it to walk out, I panicked and begged her to stay. I asked her why she was leaving."

Sasha had never seen the hurt Trey had surely carried all these years behind the jovial mask he showed the world, but she witnessed it now in full force.

He lifted a handful of Sasha's hair to his nose and in­haled, then let the fine strands sift through his fingers and spill across her chest. "My mother didn't speak, but I could hear her thoughts as if she'd shouted them. I heard 'Why? Because I was a stupid teenager who married that truck-driving oaf and got knocked up with you. Giving birth to an ox would have been easier. You were one big mistake I should have aborted.'"

Sasha sucked a breath in horror that any mother could say such a thing. But she hadn't. Trey's mother had lied to his face. Memories of times with Trey raced across Sasha's mind. Times in the past when he'd look at her as if he ques­tioned what she said, but never openly challenged anything she'd said to him. How many times had he struggled to ac­cept whatever she said at face value rather than hurt her feelings?

"You've never been able to read my thoughts, have you?"

"No," he admitted. "But you deserved a normal life with­out the danger my world presents. One without being at risk."

Sasha wanted to argue. Trey would always protect her, but she wouldn't force the issue tonight after he'd shared a part of him she doubted anyone had ever been privy to. In­stead, she tossed logic at him. "Normal? What was normal about my life back then? I had a closet-alcoholic father and a mother who couldn't leave the house for fear aliens would steal her human eggs. She never seemed to notice inanimate objects moving around the house with autonomy." Sasha re­laxed. "Of course, even I excused it as my weird imagina­tion or ghosts."

A smile tilted the corners of Trey's mouth. "Your family was pretty odd, but tonight you saw the kind of 'things' I deal with on a daily basis. I don't want you around that." "I have powers, too. I can cloak myself. I can—" That drew a scowl. "And if you don't stop using those powers until you're proficient you're going to get injured or killed. What if you'd unleashed a legion of warriors like him?"

"Ekkbar controlled who came through his end of the portal."

"Precisely the reason you should stop playing around with magic until you get a certified witch license."

In a swift movement, she rolled from his arms and hov­ered above him. He flipped to his back, her body stretched above the length of his, her black hair curtaining each side of her face. She clenched her fists. "I'm not that bad."

"Baby, come down," Trey said quietly as though he didn't want to frighten her.

"Why?" She'd had enough of everyone patronizing her.

"I didn't mean to insult you. I just can't live with the thought of anything harming you and felt like a heel for leaving you. I constantly worry about you. That's why I've spent every free minute for the past nine years coming back to Atlanta to make sure you're okay. Now I'm more con­cerned than ever."

Well, hell. Her heart was melting and she'd never get the fickle organ back to a normal shape again.

Sasha wanted to lash out at him for tapping her phones and following her, for leaving her, but couldn't. This was the Trey she knew, the one who had always stood between her and harm. She might not care for his tactics, but he'd acted out of concern, not with a malicious intent.

He opened his arms. She sighed then drifted down to settle along the length of his torso, propping her chin on her hands lapped over each other on his chest.

He had come back, had always been near.

She hadn't intentionally lied to him earlier, but she'd lied all the same when she agreed to let him go. Sasha was not allowing him to walk away from her again. Not if the only reason he had for breaking up was his job and supernatural abilities. She realized now that he loved her but feared hurt­ing her too much to admit his feelings then leave again.

What about this telepathy issue? She didn't have an an­swer yet, but would think of some way to get past it. . . she hoped.

All she had to do first was figure out how to cure her sis­ter's madness and send the crazy warrior back to where he belonged before he kidnapped her or killed Trey.

4

Trey finished showering late the next morning, annoyed no one from VIPER had shown and Brina still ignored his telepathic messages. He'd stepped from the bedroom in search of Sasha when the slap of the back door closing drew his attention. He swung around and strode to the rear porch where he found her in the yard tossing bread over the small patio and what little grass sprouted in the shady area.

"What are you doing out here, Sasha?"

"Duuhh. Feeding the birds."

"That's not what I mean. We agreed you would stay in­side."

"Nope. We agreed I would stay home. This is part of my home." She continued moving around the small backyard filled with an eclectic array of potted plants and outdoor metal sculptures. An oak tree with branches too thick to reach around fanned wide across a third of the space.

God knew, he loved this woman, but if he bound himself to her she'd be linked to his fate if he screwed up. Stirring up a war between the Beladors and the Kujoo probably quali­fied as a serious screwup with Macha.

The Celtic goddess held all power over the Beladors.

Trey scanned the area for any threat, then sauntered down to where Sasha stood next to a cleaned-off potting table. Leaves and branches crackled beneath his heavy steps. The smoky aroma of a fireplace in use swirled through the crisp air, rolling a sense of deja vu over him when he'd spent a weekend in a mountain cabin with her. Seemed all the mem­ories he held dear were wrapped around Sasha.

When she tossed the last pieces to the greedy flock of pecking birds, he picked her up and sat her on the table.

"Trey!"

"Yes?" He ran his hands up her legs, bunching her skirt as he searched for . . . oh, man. No panties. Instant hard-on.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, glancing around.

Thick bushes boarded each end of the potting table.

"Shh, no one can see what I'm doing unless they look over my shoulder and you'll figure it out in a minute." He kissed her into silence then moved his lips to the sweet skin behind her ear. He parted her legs, running his hands up to caress her. He'd hardly teased her and slid a finger inside her damp and hot opening when she came so fast he barely had time to cover her mouth with his and protect her moment.

What woman would ever feel this passionate in his arms again? None.

Sasha slumped against him and muttered, "I know what you're doing. Wiping me out physically so I won't go any­where today."

He laughed. "Is it working?" Trey held her close, savor­ing these stolen minutes of contentment for later when his world returned to an endless string of lonely nights.

"Yes. At this rate, I won't be able to reach the front porch unassisted." She started rising off the table.

"Trey! He's got me again!" She dug her nails into him.

He drew her to his chest as he swung around to face the threat. "I'm going to kill the bastard."

No! You can't, wicked through his thoughts with a sharp bite. Brina had finally shown up.

Why not, Brina?

Oh, I don't know—the end of civilization as you know it.

Got no time for this right now. Trey snapped his mind shut and focused on saving Sasha who was being dragged away from him, stretching his arms to the limits. Something she'd told him last night popped in his mind. "Cloak your­self now!"

She stared at him for a second then closed her eyes. The minute her cloaking took effect, she dropped into his arms. Trey made three strides to reach the back door where he set her on her feet and waited until she was steady. "Go inside, keep up your cloaking, and don't come near the doors or the windows."

She nodded, backing away until she bumped into her sister whose arms went around her. "I have her," Rowan called out.

Trey swung around to find the Hindu warrior standing twenty feet above the ground in the oak tree. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I am Vyan of Batuk's first guard. I am here for the witch to save my race. She will break the curse. Beladors killed my family, my woman. This is only fair."

"No." Trey knew some of the ancient history, how his Belador ancestors had murdered and pillaged. A part of him could sympathize with the Hindu warriors pain and what it would be like to lose the woman he loved. But this guy was out of his mind if he thought he could have Sasha as payback or that Trey would allow him to use her to release the Kujoo warriors.

"I will take her," Vyan taunted.

"Try it and you'll die."

"I would welcome death after eight hundred years be­neath a mountain. Give me the woman, Belador. She sent for me."

"She sent for Ekkbar, not you. What'd you do, kill him?"

Vyan shook his head, his mouth curving in a wry smile. "You know no one can die beneath Mount Meru." He's baiting you, Trey.

I realize that, Brina. Let me kill him in a fair fight and be done with this. If the others had a way out they'd be here.

Doesn't work that way with the gods. If you battle him without being physically attacked first, you start a war. The truce will be broken.

He started the war, Trey argued hotly. Not me.

Sasha called him up, Brina snapped back at him so loud his head felt as though she'd slugged him, which was a good trick since she was literally thousands of miles away on a mystic island in the Irish Sea. Sasha opened the portal so she's the one who should send him back, Brina pointed out.

That's not going to happen. He's not getting near her.

Men will be the downfall of Beladors, always wanting to fight.

Why the hell make us warriors if you didn't intend for us to battle!

Do! Not! Curse!

Something sharp cuffed his ear.

Vyan lifted his hand which held a glowing rock. "She will come to me willingly, Belador." The back door swung open of its own accord, exposing Sasha huddled against her sister, terrified.

Fury lashed every protective gene in Trey's body to a fe­ver pitch. He snapped his mind shut, unwilling to debate further with Brina. She was not here facing this demon and not helping. He took a step forward, bent at the knees, and leaped up to the branch two sword lengths from Vyan. The oak's mighty limb creaked under their combined weights.

Trey entered Vyan's mind for an insight to this man's in­tentions only to find raging emotions—aggression and an­guish.

As if he realized what Trey was about, Vyan smiled, his gaze sinister. Double-black pupils floated in each of his swirling gold irises. "I will enjoy touching her, Belador."

Trey's discipline snapped. He lunged forward, but came up empty when the warrior disappeared. Momentum sent him one more step into thin air. He landed on the ground, searching for Vyan.

He's gone, Trey. Brina could never be locked out of his mind for long.

Where? Tell me the location of his hideout.

No. Our tribe's survival depends on not warring. I cannot interfere. I merely sent him away so you could cool off, but that is all I can do. You do realize what tonight is, don't you?

Yes. Trey rolled his eyes and headed for the porch. Every Belador across the world would lay low during the one day of the year they were most vulnerable to be killed. But he did not have that option with Vyan clearly after Sasha.

Do not sacrifice your tribe for one woman, Brina or­dered.

Trey stepped up on the porch where he could see Sasha. She stood with her shoulders back, proud, trying so hard to show him a strong front. Impressive, if her face hadn't lost all color. He considered his options, but only one thing mat­tered to him right now—keeping Sasha safe.

I/ took an oath, Brina, Trey replied. Honor above all else. Those four words have ruled my life. I'm trying to protect our tribe and Sasha, but I will not allow that demon to take her.

I took an oath as well, Brina countered. I will also do whatever it takes to protect my tribe . . . even if that means turning my back on you. There is no honor in sacrificing an entire race for one woman.

That's your perspective. I have mine. He waited for her to snap at him, but she'd withdrawn without another word. Not an encouraging sign. He'd hoped Brina would show up with a solution, to give him a dragon to slay. Not to leave him even more guilt-ridden. Was he being selfish to protect Sasha?

"He's gone." Trey stepped inside the house and reached for Sasha, who rushed to his open arms. She trembled. He hugged her tight and whispered, "I'm not going to let any­thing happen to you." She nodded against his chin. Damn that Hindu. He'd scared a woman who wanted to take on a gang the other night.

Trey walked Sasha to the kitchen where pots and pans clattered. Rowan was starting to cook. He appreciated her effort to settle things down for Sasha by the simple activity of preparing breakfast. A knock rapped at the front door.

"That's for you," Rowan said to Trey. "Bring him to the dining room. I've prepared an early lunch for four."

Trey opened the front door to a dark-haired Hispanic guy standing several feet back. Most people wouldn't realize that the body shielded by a black turtleneck, black nylon jacket, and black cargo pants was close to Trey's build. The color suited the agent's dark gaze, wavy black hair, and brooding attitude.

"You Lucien Solis?" Trey asked, not extending his hand. So this is the son of a bitch nobody wanted to work with.

"Yep, but you got the wrong species. My mother wasn't a female dog." Trey hadn't even felt Lucien enter his mind and instinctively went into Lucien's mind where he heard, Damn, Findley. Wasting my time on this when I should be—

Should be where, Lucien? Trey asked, interrupting.

Silence. Black eyes flashed irritation just before Trey felt an impenetrable wall slam into place between their minds. Impressive and interesting, but not something he had time to investigate right now.

"Just so we're clear," Trey said, "I don't like Findley, ei­ther. If you don't want to be a part of this, then go."

Lucien shrugged. "I'll stay . . . for a while."

"In that case, Rowan has lunch ready. I'll catch you up while we eat."

Trey followed the aroma of warm bread and vegetable soup to the dining room where Rowan paused from pouring coffee and did a double take on Lucien who answered her curious glance with a scowl. Wonder what that had been all about. He didn't care enough to find out right now so he settled down next to Sasha and began reviewing the situa­tion for everyone. By the time they had finished eating, he'd filled in Lucien on what they knew to this point, including Rowan's illness though she still had not shown signs of mad­ness. Could Sasha be exaggerating?

Lucien hadn't said a word, which worried Trey. The guy could be a liability.

When Sasha started to stack dishes, Rowan said, "Please sit down. I'll take care of all this." She lifted her hands, palms up, and whispered words. The table cleared instantly.

Lucien's sharp gaze narrowed slightly, but still he said nothing. Rowan's eyes met his, hers sparkling with delight in the face of his dark mood. Trey caught her utterly femi­nine assessment of the agent. He'd have to warn both women later in private about being careful around Lucien.

"I'm wondering why Vyan has not tried to breach the house," Trey said, wanting to move ahead.

"Maybe because I placed a protective spell over the house when I moved in," Rowan offered.

"If that's the case, the women should be safe here, but I don't want to take any chances in case he's only waiting for an opportune time," Trey said. "I'm going out scouting to­night. Lucien will watch the house and can reach me if any­thing comes up." If Lucien would communicate with him.

"Where are you from, Lucien?" Rowan interjected.

"Spain." Lucien's terse answer didn't invite further con­versation.

Trey kept his mind blocked from telepathy and leaned back to study Lucien while Rowan pressed her questions. He wondered if the rumors he'd heard were true, that Findley had been told to put Lucien in the field without a probation­ary time.

"Where do you call home now?" Rowan asked, clearly unaffected by Lucien's curt attitude.

"Wherever I sleep for the night." Lucien crossed his arms in a you're-wasting-your-time pose.

Sasha spiked an angry glare at Lucien, and Trey almost chuckled out loud. Atta girl. Maybe he should get rid of this guy. Why hadn't the council, specifically Sen, blocked Luc­ien's fieldwork until the coalition had time to assess him?

When this was over, Trey would ask Sen what was up. An immortal who appeared when he deemed an issue worthy of his time, Sen had insinuated himself into an unofficial liai­son capacity with the VIPER coalition. He presided over a governing council created of different beings whose job it was to keep an eye on all the supernatural assets and their actions.

Rowan stood, her pink ankle-length dress loose on her. She'd lost weight. "Sasha, you want to help me refill cof­fees?"

"Sure." Sasha scooted her chair back.

"What, you're not going to blink your eyes and refill the cups?" Lucien asked with a sarcastic edge.

Trey checked Rowan to see if she was insulted. If so, he'd have to deal with Lucien's smart mouth before he kicked him out. Trey was beginning to think the guy had a thing against witches.

Rowan gave Lucien an amused look as she circled the table to the doorway directly behind him. "Not this time."

Having scooted from the other side, Sasha had just reached the same spot behind Lucien when Rowan's body went rigid.

"Oh no. Rowan, don't. . ." Sasha pleaded.

"Sasha, what's wrong?" Trey was rising from his chair when Rowan literally flew at her sister, grabbing her by the throat and pinning Sasha to the wall. Trey reached them in a lunge and gripped his hands around Rowan's slender wrists and hands, which had turned into two cast-iron clamps at the moment.

"Don't. . . hurt. . . her," Sasha squeaked, face flushed deep red.

"Let her go, Rowan, or I will hurt you!" Trey yelled.

Rowan laughed and swung unholy eyes at him that burned bright as the setting sun. "You can't stop me."

"Oh, but I can, witch," Lucien said from behind her. "That is, if you aren't afraid of me . . . witch."

Rowan released Sasha and knocked Trey aside when she spun in midair. She rose another two feet higher, her dress fluttering as she locked in Lucien as her next target.

Trey grabbed Sasha up and wrapped her trembling body within his arms.

"Do you dare to taunt me?" she asked in a voice that sounded as dangerous as it did insane. Trey hoped Rowan would calm down and regain her sanity before he was forced to use his powers on her. Sasha might never forgive him for that.

5

"A witch?" Lucien laughed. "You don't scare me." Trey cursed Lucien's arrogance and stupidity. On the other hand, Rowan's strength had been amazing. Maybe she'd teach the new guy a lesson.

"Come on, witch," Lucien prodded. "What have you got?"

Rowan howled and lunged at Lucien whose face turned fierce. He shot a hand up as if to stop her with the simple gesture.

"Don't hurt her!" Sasha yelled at him, but Lucien's full attention was on Rowan who slammed to a halt as soon as her abdomen came into contact with his open palm. He held her suspended above his shoulders at arm's length, his un­bending gaze slammed against her crazy one.

Energy charged through the room, slapping walls. The air whipped around Lucien. His lips moved with silent words.

Rowan's hands flew to her head. Her body quaked, rock­ing against Lucien's hold. She cried out, "Help me, help me, help me, please. It hurts."

Mouth in a hard line, Lucien seemed to debate something then scowled. He raised his other hand and grasped her shoulder. At the contact, his body jerked and his jaw mus­cles flexed, lips curled back over clenched teeth. Sparks rip­pled across the top of Rowan, pooling at her abdomen, then wicking down Lucien's arms and along his body. The en­ergy spun, engulfing him in a bright glow.

Trey couldn't believe Lucien was drawing whatever was inside Rowan into his body. What the hell was Lucien? Trey prepared for whatever might happen once Lucien released her.

The muscles covering Lucien's body pumped once, thick­ening his size to double before he murmured something strange and eased back into his normal shape. When every­thing stilled, Rowan went limp. Lucien caught her to his chest as she fell from her levitated position; then he lifted her into his arms.

"Rowan!" Sasha pulled against Trey, but he held her back.

Lucien was breathing hard. His gaze zeroed in on Trey. "Don't worry. I'm not going to attack anyone here."

"What did you just do?" Trey asked.

Shifting Rowan's rag doll body in his arms, Lucien said, "I purged the force holding her. . . temporarily. She's not mad, but someone has control over her when her guard is down. I'm thinking her mind's being poisoned while she's asleep since Sasha told us Rowan is tired and sleeps a lot. That's probably when the possession is woven into her sub­conscious. My bet is Ekkbar caused the insanity to use his ability to cure her as a trade for opening the portal. Why else would he be so sure he could cure her?"

"Good point. Shouldn't we wake her?" Trey asked.

"No. She needs rest to fight the madness. If she weren't so strong, she'd have killed someone by now." Lucien turned his attention to Sasha. "Where should I take her?"

"I'll show you." Sasha tugged away from Trey. "I'm okay, really."

At the top of the stairs, Sasha led Lucien to Rowan's room above hers, but her sister preferred lavender and cinnamon red to Sasha's Goth colors.

Sasha remained at the door as Lucien laid Rowan on the velour bed cover. Rowan roused, grasping his arms as he lifted up. When her fingers tightened on him, Sasha held her breath.

"You know what happened to me, don't you?" Rowan whispered in an exhausted breath.

"Yes."

"How did you make it stop?" "I pulled the negative energy away from you." "But you don't like witches. In fact, I felt an intense ha­tred—-"

"I keep personal opinions to myself when I'm on a job."

He hated witches? Sasha took a step forward, ready to put him in his place even if he had just saved Rowan.

Rowan stared up at him with that same curious look she'd had earlier, pausing Sasha in mid-step when she said, "Well, this witch considers you a friend and welcomes you back into her home anytime you wish to visit or need a place to stay. Thank you." She offered him a weak smile.

"Rest for a while" was all he said in reply.

The man was sexy as hell, but scary too. Sasha debated what she should do when he remained caught in place. He didn't move until Rowan's eyes drifted close, then he gently pried her fingers from his arms and placed her hands along­side her body.

Had Sasha not been watching for any hint of threat from him she might have missed when he brushed a wisp of hair from Rowan's face in an almost intimate gesture.

He may not like witches in general, but Lucien didn't seem to be a threat to Rowan so Sasha breathed a sigh of relief and backed away into the hall. When he stepped through the doorway and passed her in a fast stride, she fell into step be­hind him. A million questions bounced through her thoughts. None she was foolish enough to ask a man who had dealt with Rowan's madness so easily and wasn't fond of witches.

At the bottom of the stairs, Trey stood with his jacket on, clearly waiting on her to return. "I'm heading out," he an­nounced. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll go with you." Sasha raced past Lucien to Trey.

Lucien strolled past them, exiting through the front door and closing it behind him.

Trey kissed her forehead. "Stay with your sister until I return. You're the only reason I'd risk a battle. I hope to find him and come up with another way to solve this." When she nodded, he stepped through the front door.

"I have to trust you to protect Sasha and Rowan," Trey told Lucien, who stood at the edge of the porch, his face turned up to overcast skies.

"I don't harm defenseless women." Lucien swung around, arms crossed. "Not even witches."

Time to go while Trey had optimum use of his power. At midnight he'd begin to weaken until the point of total vul­nerability at the first rays of daylight tomorrow morning. His powers would fade in and out like a bad radio signal.

"Rowan isn't entirely defenseless while she's possessed," Trey pointed out, just so they were clear.

Lucien shrugged. "I'm not worried."

That still hadn't been a straight answer so Trey told Luc­ien, "Just know that I won't let a breath pass without coming after you if anything happens to either of those women."

"Sooner you go, sooner you'll be back," Lucien quipped.

Trey sighed with the weight of responsibility balanced on his shoulders, but he'd been taught that his fate was set the day he drew his first breath and had little control. He had to repay past sins committed by others. The end of the civil war between Beladors and the Kujoo had come on this same night eight hundred years ago. Their goddess Macha had cut a deal with the Hindu god Shiva to end the blood shed by her wiping out male Beladors and only allowing future gen­erations to thrive if they upheld an oath of honor. Shiva in turn sent the Kujoo to live beneath Mount Meru because they had spit in his face by swearing allegiance to Ravana, a demon god Shiva believed he'd killed.

Now Trey faced breaking the truce.

"I'll be back by midnight If I don't find him," Trey said, then strode to his Bronco where he traded his glasses for a set of goggles with the same unbreakable lenses. He climbed in and drove away, ready for the confrontation.

The sun had dropped out of sight hours before by the time Trey returned to the house having found no Vyan, no night-stalkers, and no other supernatural entity.

Something was definitely going down tonight.

When Trey stepped back on Sasha's porch, Lucien pushed the front door open. "Any luck?"

"No."

"Why do I get the feeling midnight means something significant to you?"

"It does, but I don't want to discuss it." Thunder pounded the heavens. Cool air filled with a dangerous scent washed across Trey's skin in advance of the storm building. "I won't be here long," he told Lucien, then walked away to find Sasha curled up on the sofa staring at the blaze in the fire­place. The warm room smelled cozy and inviting after rac­ing through the cold downtown streets.

Trey wanted to stay, but time wouldn't let him.

Sasha jumped up when she saw him and dashed into his open arms, hugging him close. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I haven't found him yet." He hoped that came out as encouraging rather than the bad news it was.

She turned her face up to his for the kiss he needed, too. Trey broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers, willing to do whatever it took to keep her safe from harm. Even take on the gods who might interpret his actions as starting a war.

"I've got to go back out. . . for a while."

Lightning crackled outside and flashed against the win­dows. A boom followed close behind.

"I've waited a long time for you to come back." She sounded angry, but he knew it was her way to hide her fear.

"I'm going to do everything within my power to come back tonight," he whispered. "No matter what, please for­give me."

A tear snaked along her cheek. She swatted it away. "I already did. I love you."

He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her, too, but thunder echoed through the still air, making him rethink his words. How could he say he loved her then never return?

"There's been no other woman to equal you," he finally said, his voice rough from the knot in his throat. "Stay here and be safe until. . . this is over." His watch beeped. Mid­night.

Trey kissed her for all the yesterdays they missed out on and all the lost tomorrows. He deepened the embrace, si­lently giving his heart to her. An easy gift since she'd owned it from the day they'd first met.

He set her away from him, wishing things had worked out differently, but his destiny was set a long time ago. Turn­ing, he took a step on the longest journey he'd ever faced, one that would likely lead to his death. He stopped to speak with Lucien.

"If I don't make it back, take Sasha and Rowan to a VI­PER safe house." Trey cringed inside at the thought of his free-spirited Sasha locked away in an underground vault, but she'd be safe until the war ended if he failed tonight.

Lucien gave a terse nod of agreement.

"I'll contact you telepathically . . . if I can't come back." An aching tremor shook through Trey's body, reminding him it was time to go. He strode to his Bronco. When he reached the door, I'm waiting, Belador, whispered past his ear.

Where? Trey asked and stuck the key in the ignition.

Your ride will bring you to me.

The truck engine cranked without Trey touching the key. The gearshift moved into place and the Bronco accelerated.

"Why won't you wake up, Rowan?" Sasha sat on the edge of the bed, holding her sister's hand. She could not lose Trey or Rowan when both had just come back into her life.

Lucien strode into the room and placed the palm of his hand over Rowan's forehead. "Something holds her uncon­scious."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing. In fact, it's probably best that you stay away until we see what state she'll be in when she awakes."

"I'm not leaving her alone." Sasha crossed her arms.

"Go downstairs and rest. I'll stay with her."

Sasha tapped her foot, debating the merits of leaving her sister in the care of a man who Rowan believed hated witches.

"I never said I hated witches," he said with a sexy smile.

"You never said you didn't."

"Point taken, but your sister is safe with me."

His gentle assurance swayed Sasha's decision to relinquish guard over her sister. "Please call me if she needs me."

Downstairs, Sasha paced the house from one end to the other. She stalked off to her bedroom where she dropped to the bed and laid back. Sleep would be impossible tonight, but she'd conserve her strength in case her powers were needed.

Sasha.

She scanned the room. Was that Trey? He sounded far away.

Sasha, I need to tell you something.

She sat up quickly and glanced around. Was he reaching her telepathically? If so, shouldn't she hear it inside her head and not whispering through the room? "Trey, is that you?"

Yes. I'm hurt. I just wanted to say good-bye before I die.

Her heart jumped in her chest. She didn't waste another second debating telepathic properties and ran to her closet to change into nylon pants and a sweatshirt. She yanked her hair into a ponytail and donned boots then paused. Could she trust Rowan to a man Trey clearly did not trust? But Rowan did trust Lucien and Sasha put a lot of stock in her sister's intuitive ability. She prayed she was making the right deci­sion then realized she didn't know where she was going.

"Trey, where are you?" she whispered.

Lying on the steps where we first encountered Vyan.

Piedmont Park. Her throat constricted at the image of Trey dying. She cloaked herself and slipped from the house, then let her Subaru roll down to the street before cranking the engine.

When she reached Piedmont Park fat raindrops pelted the windshield, but she couldn't waste a minute hunting an umbrella.

Sasha raced against sheets of water, sloshing through puddles in the park. She crossed the footbridge over the lake and wrenched to a stop when invisible hands grabbed her arms, lifting her a couple inches off the ground. She began to float forward until she saw Trey facing the Hindu warrior. She opened her mouth to shout but the words vanished from her mind.

Where was that Kujoo warrior hiding? The park was empty. Weariness bled through Trey's soaked body. His muscles ached with the astronomical pull that ruled a Belador's life from controlling a warrior's powers to when the females were fertile.

"I'm waiting for you, Belador."

Trey swiveled around to find Vyan standing at the top of the steps, his long jacket billowing in the wind. A sword the length of Trey's arm hung at Vyan's side.

"Too much blood has been shed in the past by both of our ancestors," Trey started, wishing he had a better argu­ment. "Beladors today are repaying the debt in this lifetime. I have no other way to make up for the sins my ancestors committed."

"Oh, but you do. You have the witch."

"Sasha had nothing to do with the wars between our people."

"A witch is the key to freeing my people." Vyan reached into his pocket and produced the stone. The rock glowed and lightning bolts spiked around them. "Words will not end this conflict. Only one of us will leave victoriously from here."

"Then fight me like a true warrior." Trey opened his arms wide. "I've brought no weapons. Have you no honor?"

Vyan scowled and moved as fast as a flash of light to stand ten feet from Trey. "Do not question my honor. Unlike your people, I never raped and murdered innocent women and children."

"Neither have I. Leave Sasha out of this and I'll give you what you want."

"She will not go with you, Belador." Vyan turned to his left. "Is that not true, witch?"

Trey twisted to his right. Sasha moved toward where they stood, her boots not touching the ground. Her eyes were un­focused as if she didn't recognize him. Water ran down her pasty complexion and plastered her hair to her shoulders and face. Her soaked sweatshirt clung to her trembling body.

No. "Stay back, Sasha."

"Yes," she answered like a zombie before dropping down to stand on the grass. "I will stay with Vyan."

Trey cut his eyes at the Hindu warrior who was obviously using the stone to control her, and going to die painfully if he didn't let her go. He had to get that damn rock.

Vyan turned back to Trey. "You see? I may take her as my own unless Batuk chooses her as his new queen. A witch might better survive the demands of a mighty warrior than the women he's had in the past."

Trey's heartbeat pounded into high gear. Not a smart move when it would only deplete his strength faster, but his control slipped farther away with every poisoned word from Vyan's lips. Trey struggled to hold back in order to prevent a war.

"Watch, Belador. She wants me," Vyan taunted then turned to Sasha who was still twenty feet away. He lifted the rock from his pocket. She began walking toward the Hindu, who raised his sword, pointing it at Sasha's abdomen. "Bet­ter yet, watch as she walks into the sword and dies without me striking her. Then I will take her sister, the stronger witch who Ekkbar controls."

When Sasha continued to move toward the sword, Trey lost the ability to think rationally. He lunged at Vyan who shoved the rock into his pocket and blocked Trey with a swing of his thick forearm. Trey stumbled, caught his balance, and shook his head, relieved to see her stop walking. He'd never wanted Sasha to see him in combat, because of what he turned into. But she wasn't cognizant of anything at the moment and his powers were dwindling with each tick of the clock.

Vyan sprinted forward. When Trey would have hit him with a full body slam, the Hindu flipped up in the air, legs churning as he spun over Trey who swung to see the fighter land surefooted. Cramps hit Trey in his midsection. He grit­ted his teeth against the pain and roared, calling forth his warrior form.

Bones cracked, lengthening. Muscles flexed and pumped, growing his thick body even larger. His hands curved, fin­gers expanding into thick digits as hard as tempered steel, the sharp tips flashing with electricity.

Vyan shouted in his native tongue. Lightning struck around them, bursting craters the size of a sink in the ground. He tossed off his jacket and wielded his sword. Sparks crackled along the razor edge. He came at Trey, who spun, deflecting the sword. But the Hindu was quick and strong. He swung the weapon with blinding speed.

Trey charged forward. Vyan sliced the air with the sword, turning it flat as he brought the blade shoulder high . . . to take off a man's head. Shoving a hand up, Trey caught the brunt of the attack with his steel fingers. The blade skipped off and sliced him across the chest.

The cut was not deep enough to damage muscle, but his increased heart rate pumped blood furiously through the wound.

"Noooo!" He turned at Sasha's scream. Her eyes were clear and terrified. She struggled to move her legs as if her feet had been anchored to the ground.

"Get out of here, Sasha!"

"She can't."

Trey wheeled back around to the grinning warrior and lost any compassion he might have felt at one time for this man's losses.

"Aid him and I will make his death very slow and pain­ful," Vyan warned her then turned to Trey. "And if you make a move toward her, she goes up in flames."

Thunder vibrated the ground beneath Trey's boots. Pain stabbed his thighs and neck. He was running out of time. Trey fisted his hands, the tips digging into his palms. He stretched his neck and rocked his shoulders back and forth, pumping his forearms. A guttural noise clawed up the inside of his chest and burst out, firing the air around him into a hot blast.

Vyan came at him, slicing that wicked blade with deft efficiency. He turned the blade sideways at the last minute and slammed Trey in the head, knocking him ten feet in the air, bouncing his head on the concrete. The goggles flew from his eyes, yanked away by an unseen force. He rolled face-first into a puddle of water. Mud splattered his eyes. Muscles kinked in his arms. His body began shrinking back to his normal size.

Death crooned to him, offering a quick end to the pain racking his muscles. His chest burned from the gash. Every breath became harder to draw.

Sasha screamed, "Don't you dare die!"

Trey shook his head and opened his eyes to the rain that washed his vision clear. He shoved himself up to his knees, wet hair slapping his face when he lifted his eyes to the Hindu warrior.

"Rise, Belador. I will not kill a man on his knees."

Trey clenched his teeth to contain the scream of pain that shot up his legs as he struggled to his feet. His gaze wavered to where Sasha stood with arms wrapped around her middle, shivering, her beautiful face contorted in agony, crying. He could not fail her.

He took a rasping breath and turned toward Vyan, draw­ing on what minimal power he had left to attack. But when he stepped forward, his legs almost buckled.

Vyan reacted swiftly, lifting the sword high in an arc intended to strike Trey in the center of his head and split his upper body in half.

The sword began the long descent with Trey powerless to stop the inevitable. Inches from his skull, Vyan went flying backward, landing against a tree and hitting the ground.

Trey stared in shock. What the hell had happened?

Then he felt the presence of another supernatural, more than one. Out of the black sheets of rain slashing through the park, three images took shape. Two men and a female. The men were Beladors he'd fought beside before—Tzader Burke and Quinn Vladimir. The woman stood an easy six feet tall. . . and was an Alterant, a mix of Belador and some other species.

"What are you three doing here?" he croaked out.

"Helping you," Quinn replied, smoothing the water off the top of his blond hair slicked back into a ponytail. Decked out in a sleek black and silver tuxedo, his lean form belonged on a runway somewhere. But the international stock trader had probably come to the park from some shindig in downtown Atlanta. The spectacles covering his eyes had undoubtedly been crafted somewhere like Switzerland, one of a kind.

"Not tonight, Quinn." Trey gasped for air with each breath, his mind foggy. He wanted to go to Sasha, who stood wide-eyed and unharmed so far, but he wouldn't take the risk of her being burned alive. He shot a look at where the warrior had been tossed. Vyan didn't move, which meant nothing. The guy was probably playing possum to assess the new arrivals.

Trey frowned at the trio. "Don't tell me you forgot what tonight is, Tzader."

"Not likely." Tzader couldn't be more different from Quinn if he tried, with his black hair curling and thick on top, buzz cut on the sides. His coffee-brown skin glistened with energy and menace. Twelve-inch knives clipped to each hip would gut anything, living or otherwise. Close inspec­tion of the serrated edges revealed fanged teeth. Not as tall as Trey or Quinn, Tzader's sleeveless shirt stretched to con­tain a body wrapped in two hundred and twenty-five pounds of badass muscle.

"I'm Evalle Kincaid," the brunette Amazon purred as "ee-val." "Unlike the three of you purebreds, my energy is not bleeding out right now. And unlike you, Trey, these two have conserved their powers and energy since midnight. So we need to get busy before your buddy over there regains con­sciousness." Her designer glasses rested against a pert nose and high cheeks. Her vision must be extremely sensitive for her to shield her eyes behind dark shades at night in a storm.

"No!" Trey argued and paid for the effort with a dagger of pain to his lung. Were they demented? "This isn't a sanc­tioned battle and I'm not risking all of your lives." Linking with Beladors increased their powers exponentially, but if one died in battle while linked, they all did.

"We all took an oath," Quinn interjected. "What kind of honor would we have if we didn't back you up? And Evalle is right. We need to get to it."

"You can't do this. The penalty will be high." He could only hope Macha would penalize him alone and spare the tribe.

"You don't have a say," Evalle said in a tone that indi­cated she was bored with the conversation. "When Brina says it's on, it's on. Like I said, the sooner the . . ." She an­gled her head toward the tree where Vyan had landed and muttered, "Too late, he's rousing. Let's link now."

Brina sent them? Trey couldn't believe it.

Why not, Treyl Brina sounded peeved.

I/ thought you wouldn't back this battle.

I told you, I protect my tribe. Even hardheaded warriors like you. I'll worry about Macha as soon as you kick this fool's butt back to that giant rock he climbed out from under.

The trio spread out, and Trey began to feel their energy flood his feeble body. He drew one breath, then another, standing taller with each infusion from the linking.

Vyan strolled toward him as if he were unconcerned about the new developments. He pointed a finger at his jacket on the ground and it flew to him. When he had the coat on, he lifted the stone from his coat pocket.

Trey cursed at not thinking to grab the stone.

"You would not have held the stone long, for it chooses its master," Vyan said, obviously snagging Trey's thoughts. He lifted the multicolored rock and murmured foreign words. "Your combined power will not match mine, Beladors." He spit out the last word as if the tribe's name seared his tongue.

The trio moved in, but Trey held up his hand. "I'll fight him alone."

"Let's help your odds," Evalle suggested. All the lights in the park and surrounding areas went out. Trey blinked, not believing his sharp vision.

You have my vision, Evalle said in Trey's mind. The Ku­joo can see too, but not with the high-definition optics you now have.

Thanks, Trey sent back, then closed his mind to every­thing but confronting Vyan.

Vyan came at him, his blade sizzling with electricity along the edge. Trey dodged the first strike, spinning away and searching for a weapon. The thought had barely escaped his mind when he held Tzader's two knives.

The blades actually snarled, fangs extended, when Trey lifted them to brace against Vyan's next strike. The warrior fought with one hand wielding his sword and the other hold­ing the stone that radiated spears of multicolored lights. Bolts of lightning sliced the air around them. Trey blocked charge after charge from Vyan with the knives until he saw a chance to knock the stone loose.

Trey threw one knife, aiming for Vyan's wrist, which supported the stone. The knife bounced away before it reached him. Vyan smiled and pointed the stone at Trey's other hand. His second knife flew out of his palm.

Tzader whistled and both weapons returned to his side.

"Take mine," came an order from behind Trey. He turned to find Lucien who produced a sword from thin air and sent it spinning end over end. Trey caught the weapon; that felt too light to be any good. He glanced at Lucien, who stood next to Sasha. Rowan was beside him wearing a yellow slicker, not looking anything like a witch.

Lucien crossed his arms, grinning. "You two go ahead. I just came to watch."

Which goddess of fate had it in for Trey to stick him with Lucien and his twisted sense of humor? And Rowan who could go airborne and out of control at any minute?

"Bring in a legion of warriors, Belador," Vyan said, wav­ing the stone. "Nothing can stop me with this. When I am done with this one," he called out, pointing at Trey, "I will call forth Ravana who will dispense with the rest of you next."

"Bring it on," Tzader shot back.

Sasha couldn't believe what she was witnessing. She swiped a clump of wet hair from her face and turned to Rowan. "Can you do anything to help Trey?"

Rowan shook her head, water flicking from the hood of her slicker. "I could make it worse."

Sasha didn't think that was possible. Her heart raced at every move Trey and Vyan made. She had to help Trey somehow. Vyan had warned her not to, but how could he know who sent Trey help with this group present? And where had all these beings come from?

Metal clanged as Vyan attacked and Trey battled back. Trey fought with both hands on his sword, but Vyan didn't even seem winded . . . because of that stone, Sasha realized. He could be beat without the rock. She felt sure of it.

Trey battled Vyan to the edge of the pond that ran be­neath the footbridge in the south end of the park. Vyan stumbled once, but bounced up on the balls of his feet as if he just hadn't been paying attention. Trey and Vyan's strikes echoed through the air until Trey missed his step and Vyan's blade sliced so close to his neck Sasha felt light-headed with fear.

Trey roared and shoved up, swinging that sword like a major leaguer with an aluminum baseball bat, driving Vyan backward to the pond.

Sasha saw her chance and began to chant, "Earth, wind, and rain, hear me well. . . ."

Vyan's coat lengthened, dragging the ground as he backed toward a quickly forming mud hole. He stepped on the tail of the coat, arms flailing to keep his balance, but his mo­mentum threw him backward. The stone flew from his hand to the pond, boiling the water as it sank. Within seconds the glow from beneath the surface extinguished.

Five bolts of lightning struck the ground between her and Trey, exploding dirt from the hole it created. Howling pre­ceded a wispy form that rose from the earth and hovered until the smoke cleared, leaving a dark man with Middle Eastern facial structure similar to Vyan's. But this male's eyes were a molten gold with red irises. He bared pointed teeth that dripped blood from the tips. His short hair started growing into lengths that thickened and took the form of serpents, hissing and striking the air around his head.

"Ravana, I have lost the stone," Vyan cried out, scram­bling to his feet.

"Do not despair." Ravana pointed his hands at empty spots, and everywhere he directed, a mangle of arms, legs, and battered heads took shape as creatures Sasha had never seen. "They come from Fene and fear nothing since they live in hell's armpit."

Twenty creatures shrieked to life, their heads scabbed and rotting, their skin as dark as roasted meat. Sasha tried not to breathe in the wave of noxious stench clogging the air. Rags hung from the creatures' bodies, but that's where the disparity stopped. Muscles wrapped their torsos and limbs with sinewy tissue that gleamed like bands of woven metals. They crouched, pawing the ground as if waiting to be re­leased.

A beautiful auburn-haired woman appeared next as a hologram with eyes so green they'd compete with an emer­ald struck by the sun. Her translucent skin was covered with a mint-green robe that sparkled when she moved, but she never completely took shape.

"Hi, Brina," Evalle said to the hologram, then muttered, "It's definitely on, now." The gleam in her smile that curved below the dark shades on the Amazon raised the hair on Sasha's arms, which was saying something at this point to­night. She wouldn't want to face this woman in a dark alley. The tall female stomped her boots and silver razor-sharp tips shot from around the soles. She shook her hands once, the water slinging away, and sharp points erupted from the smooth skin of her palm. Spiked cartilage raised along the back of her hands and up her arms to her shoulders.

"Beladors, unite and defend," Brina shouted in a voice so strong Sasha wondered if the woman was truly just an image.

" 'Bout time." Tzader spun the knives in his hands as fast as a fan blade on high.

"I should say so," Quinn drawled, clearly tired of inactiv­ity. He reached both hands inside his jacket and withdrew four triangular discs with daggers at each corner and a wo­ven Celtic design in the center.

Sasha's ears were burning. What witch besides Rowan was present? This burning was hotter than anything she'd experienced before. She glanced at Rowan who rubbed her ear and searched the crowd with narrowed eyes.

"Destroy the Beladors, demons." Ravana waved his hands, which must have been the sign to attack.

"Why aren't you helping Trey?" Sasha demanded of Lu­cien.

"I gave him a sword." Lucien shrugged.

Sasha dismissed him and her burning ear. At this point, what did it matter if another witch was present?

The shrieking demons leaped into action. Tzader dove headfirst into the fray, taking out two with knives he wielded with blinding speed. Sasha never saw the cuts, but arms and heads rolled away, turning her stomach.

Trey and Vyan were back at it, but now it was a fair fight with no help from that blasted stone. Shouts, screams, and unearthly howls carpeted the air. Bodies hitting the ground and each other, splashing blood-soaked mud everywhere. The stench of death permeated each suffocating breath Sasha drew. Her ears felt as though they were on fire.

Her gaze tracked to Trey just as he turned to cover Evalle's back while she fought hand to hand against three demons, slashing off one's head with a kick of her boot. Vyan swung his blade in a wide arc toward Trey's head.

Sasha screamed at the top of her lungs for Trey to watch out. He spun toward her, Vyan's blade barely missing him.

"Behind you!" Sasha yelled.

Trey whirled around fast and knocked Vyan to the ground, pinning Vyan with the sword at his throat.

Ravana bellowed, "Kill him and you will face me, Bela­dor! Demons, cease!"

All fighting slowed. The trio of Belador fighters backed up to one another, weapons ready to continue. The creatures slobbered blood, dropping down to all fours and pawing the ground again.

"You any better a warrior than him, Ravana?" Trey chided.

Ravana took a step forward.

"E-nough!" The booming voice that rocked the park bounced from earth to the heavens and back. A man stepped from thin air and Sasha's jaw dropped at the striking vision. Men shouldn't be beautiful. Shimmering mahogany hair hung to his shoulders. He brushed his hand over his head in an impatient gesture and his hair flew back into a pony-tail, a leather tie holding it in place. Smooth olive-toned skin covered his cut body and the sharp-angled face. The scar slashing his forehead only added to his mystique. Mediterranean-blue eyes were Asian shaped. He had to stand close to six-foot-six and strode into the midst of the war zone as though he owned this planet.

"Hey, Sen. How's it hangin'?" Tzader called to the new arrival.

Sen glowered at him then swept his gaze over the battle­field. "You are all at fault for warring among civilians." His glare dared anyone to challenge him. He wore a leather vest, chain belt with skull engravings, and snug jeans that sug­gested he was hanging just fine to answer Tzader's lewd question. He shoved both hands to the heavens, flexing those rockin' biceps, his face hard and his voice terse when he spoke, yet undecipherable. The rainstorm continued, but the water fell away from where they congregated. He'd thrown an invisible canopy over them.

"Anyone so much as twitches a muscle and I'll dust you," Sen warned and sharpened his gaze at the grumbling de­mons. "You think Fene is bad? Just piss me off any more than I am now."

"The Beladors broke the truce," Ravana charged.

Sasha leaned forward, ready to take on that lying bastard, but Lucien moved an arm to bar, his eyes locked on the field.

"Kill me now, for I have nothing left to live for," Vyan ordered Trey. "I failed my people and deserve to die."

Trey stared down into the tortured eyes of a man who had lost his woman and his family. "No. There's been enough bloodshed." He turned to the man who had just arrived. "Good to see you, Sen, but this is not a VIPER is­sue, yet."

"It is when a war breaks out in this world," Sen an­swered.

"The Beladors broke the truce," Ravana yelled again.

"The Kujoo lured the Beladors into a battle and tricked them," Brina shouted back from her hologram state.

"You will solve this now or I'll call for a tribunal," Sen ordered, clearly in no mood to hear anyone's gripes.

Trey sighed. That would really turn this into a FUBAR situation. If the Celtic and Hindu entities that ruled the Bela­dors and Kujoo respectively did not resolve this issue, a tribu­nal made up of three entities unrelated to the problem would be called upon for a decision. That was the only way all these powerful gods and goddesses had managed not to destroy one another or the planet over the past millenniums.

"Call forth your rulers," Sen ordered.

Brina opened her arms and bowed her head. "Goddess Macha, please grace us with your presence."

A swoosh noise drew everyone's gaze up to where a giant swan glided down from the heavens to land gently at the site. Red hair flowed in waves to the waist of the elegant woman sitting upon the bird's back. Her iridescent gown glowed, illuminating the canopied area when she descended from the kneeling swan.

The Celtic goddess Macha had arrived.

All eyes turned to Ravana, who did nothing.

"Call your ruler, Ravana," Sen said in a tone not to be mistaken as a mere suggestion.

"No. You have no say over me or the Kujoo people," Ra­vana scoffed. "If you want to end this, punish the Beladors by sending them to live beneath Mount Meru and I will en­sure that my people uphold the truce from now on."

Trey shook his head. Ravana obviously didn't know Sen.

Sen snarled and morphed into another form, one ten feet tall with a curved neck and bony face that popped further out of shape when he bared a mouth full of sharp teeth. Hair covered his shoulders and the back of his hands that turned into claws, but the lower half of his body remained human.

Trey had heard of his beast-state, but never witnessed it. He glanced at Sasha. The admiring gaze she'd cast at Sen earlier was gone. She shrank back in horror.

Evalle, on the other hand, smiled and said, "Cool."

And that's exactly why men will never understand women.

"Shiva, please bless us with your presence," Macha called out in a melodic voice.

Ravana stared in horror as a low rumble rolled across the earth and the ground trembled. Light speared through the canopy from different angles, the origins far out in the uni­verse. When all the points met in one spot, a slender man in a white silk tunic, flowing pants, and bronze sandals ap­peared. Gleaming black hair fell neatly to his neck. His eyes were small like black beans, but filled with a thousand years of understanding and no apparent malice.

"Hello, Shiva," Macha greeted him, bowing her head. "It's good to see you again."

Sen relaxed, his body returning to the one Trey had heard women idolized.

"Hello, Macha," Shiva said. "I wish our meeting was un­der different circumstances. A break in the truce saddens me."

"I agree, but what are we to do?"

Shiva turned to Ravana. "I thought you died many years ago? How is it you are here now?"

"The Beladors broke the truce," Ravana repeated, his voice pitching high. "I rule the Kujoo and demand justice."

"You avoid my question, which perplexes me. I would know if a god such as yourself still lived," Shiva pointed out.

"A god? Wait a minute," Sasha called out.

Trey groaned. He couldn't walk away from Vyan, be­cause the bastard might attack. The members of his tribe were still linked with him and would die if he made a mis­take.

"Sasha, please don't interfere," Trey warned quickly be­fore Macha took offense and vaporized her.

"But he's not a god. Trey, my ears were burning. I just realized he has to be a witch, a powerful one."

A collective gasp sucked through the group. Trey raced to think of what to say. Sasha had insulted an entity.

"Goddess, do you think—" Brina started, only to be si­lenced by a lift of Macha's hand.

"All entities, show your true form now," Macha called out, an order no entity could deny.

Ravana shrieked, "Nooo, nooo, noooooo," then wavered and bent double. His clothes spun in a fiery blur of red. When he stood upright again, he was no longer Ravana, but a woman who would be gorgeous if not for the sinister shape of her eyes.

"I should have known this was your dirty work, Moran," Macha said, her voiced no longer sweet. "How could you do this to your own people?"

Moran lifted off the ground, sneering at Macha. "Your tribe still broke the truce. What say ye to that?"

"I would ask that Shiva pass judgment with compassion for a tribe that has upheld the peace for eight hundred years and will continue to do so," Macha answered, her attention on the Hindu god.

Shiva tilted his head, a thoughtful expression on his calm face. "Your warrior spared a Kujoo life when he could have taken it. I am inclined to allow the truce to continue."

"The Beladors must be sanctioned," the witch Moran or­dered.

Shiva and Macha stared at each other; a silent communi­cation flowed between them until Shiva nodded and turned to Moran. "No, the Beladors will not be sanctioned, but you will be for impersonating another entity."

"You wouldn't dare." Moran lifted higher away.

"Oh yes," Macha answered. "We'll call the tribunal if need be. Our only dilemma is just what you deserve."

The crater unearthed by the lightning bolts yawned open and vapor escaped, arching high over their heads and set­tling in the center of the area.

"I should choose," the vapor whispered in an eerie voice.

"So you did die, Ravana," Shiva said, identifying the vapor.

"Yes, I demand the witch as my slave in Fene for one year."

Moran gasped. "You cannot—"

"I accept that decision," Macha interjected.

"As do I," Shiva agreed.

Moran spun around, but her hair yanked toward the va­por. She screamed in pain, clawing to break free, begging for mercy. The vapor grew, drawing her closer until she was wrapped in a swirling cloud of red smoke. In the blink of an eye the entire mass was snatched back into the crater.

Shiva turned to the demons remaining and said, "Go. Now."

The demons scrambled to the hole and disappeared one by one. As soon as the last one vanished, the crater filled with earth, returning to its original state.

"What about him?" Trey asked, indicating Vyan.

"He has suffered enough and came to save his people," Shiva replied. "I will not release the others from Mount Meru, but he may remain if he swears not to attack you again."

Trey backed away and allowed Vyan to stand. What would this warrior do now in a world where he's an outcast and unfamiliar? There was one place Vyan could thrive if he would truly keep the peace. And in spite of all that had transpired, Trey knew he would be just as tortured if Sasha were killed.

When Vyan retrieved his sword and slid it into the sheath at his side, Trey said, "I understand the depth of your pain and feel for your loss, but as I told you to begin with, I'm part of a Belador tribe that is sworn to protect the innocent, not ravage them. If you can put aside your hate, I might be able to get you into a group called VIPER where your abili­ties would be welcomed. A place where you could belong."

Vyan's hard gaze shifted to one of defeat and exhaustion. "I want nothing to do with you, Belador. I will not attack you, but neither am I ready to join you, either."

Trey nodded, understanding Vyan's reluctance. "When you change your mind, find a nightstalker and tell them you're looking for VIPER and me. Someone will find you and bring you to me." That was the best he could do for Vyan at the moment.

Vyan stepped toward the pond and Trey tensed. The war­rior was going for the stone.

"No, Vyan," Shiva said, stopping the warrior. "Now that the Ngak stone has been released from the hold of Mount Meru, it will choose its next master. It has already done so."

Vyan nodded then faced Trey. "Do not place great value on seeing me again, Belador." He turned to Sen. "Release me from this invisible tent. I wish to breathe untainted air."

Sen arched an annoyed eyebrow at the warrior then turned to Shiva and Macha. "I will rescript the minds of all civilians in this area to remember nothing more than a bad thunderstorm and return the park to its original state before leaving if you require nothing further of me."

Shiva and Macha nodded their assent.

The canopy cleared, as did the heavens. Clouds drifted lazily past a full moon. The park lights blinked on. Trey held himself in check when he wanted to go to Sasha and comfort his little kick-butt warrior. She'd saved everyone by exposing the Celtic witch Moran. But first he had to try to fix one more thing.

He approached Macha. "I wish to ask you something."

"You should be on your knees thanking me, Belador, not asking for more," Macha snapped at him. "You're fortunate not to have unleashed a legion of Kujoo soldiers or to have condemned the Belador tribe to a future beneath Mount Meru."

"I'm sorry for the risk I placed us all under, but I did so only with the belief that my actions were honorable." He lowered his head in respect, but he needed to ask about Rowan.

"That is the only reason I am not sanctioning you. As for Rowan, I have no authority over the magician Ekkbar."

"I have removed the magician's hold on the witch," Shiva interjected.

Relieved, Trey turned to Shiva. "Thank you." Shiva nod­ded, then placed his palms together in prayer and vanished.

Macha returned to the swan and settled on its back. She placed her palms flat, fingertips touching, and disappeared.

"Go in peace, Beladors." Brina's hologram disintegrated.

Trey dragged a hand through his wet hair and turned to Sasha, who ran to him. He bundled her into his arms and hugged her, taking a deep breath of joy. She'd survived. His gaze swept the terrain. No Vyan. No Sen.

Lucien and the three Beladors strolled up to him. Trey pulled Sasha to his side, loathe to let her out of his reach.

"I've got to work tonight, so I'm bugging out." Evalle's toned arms were covered in soft skin again. Her boots no more threat than a swift kick to the family jewels of the wrong man.

"Thanks, Evalle," Trey said then turned to the whole group. "I couldn't have done this without all of you."

"True," Tzader agreed. "Remember that next time you step into deep sh—uh, pardon me, Sasha. Deep trouble." He grinned.

"I dare say, you're going to be a hurting pup as soon as we pull apart the link," Quinn added. "I plan to spend the rest of this evening in the lap of luxury, or the lap of a luxu­rious woman willing to soothe the aches I anticipate as soon as we unlink. Shall we?" Quinn said to Tzader and Evalle.

The trio walked away, dispersing into the darkness. Trey groaned with the release of the linking, his body feeling like a Mack truck had run over him—twice. But he'd begin to heal soon and could make it home unassisted.

"Vyan tricked me," Sasha said quickly. "I thought it was you calling me telepathic ally, saying you were dying. But now I realize that couldn't have happened."

Trey cupped her head to his chest. "Don't worry about it, baby. I'm just glad you're safe."

"Thank you, Trey," Rowan said and hugged them both before stepping away.

Trey took in Rowan's skin and eyes that were robust, healthy.

"Thanks for watching over the women," Trey told Luc­ien whose answer was a frown. He chuckled at the touchy

guy-

"I've got things to do." Clearly bored, Lucian walked away before Trey could extend his hand to shake.

Trey wouldn't hold it against him after all that Lucien had done to help with Rowan. He'd find out what Lucien was, but not now.

Rowan ran a couple of steps to catch Lucien's arm. He stopped and glared down at her. She smiled back, saying, "My offer is always open. Come back if you ever need to or want to. You'll be welcomed as a friend."

He studied her for a brief moment, then cupped her chin and kissed her just long enough to draw an earthy sigh from Rowan.

"I'll keep that in mind, witch." Lucien turned and saun­tered away.

Rowan spun around, a smile in place. "I saw Trey's truck earlier. I'll meet you two there." She walked away.

"Where does this leave us?" Sasha asked Trey, stepping in front of him with a look of challenge in her eyes and hands on her hips.

He had to tell her the truth so she would understand why they couldn't be together. And that meant all the truth.

"Sasha, you mean more to me than you'll ever know, but—"

"I understand why you don't trust what you can't hear in someone's mind." Sasha took his hand in hers. "Believe me, in your shoes I'd never trust another living soul. But you're not me and I need you to trust me. I don't know how to make telepathy work, but I believe we can make us work."

He wanted to, more than she could imagine. "That's not the only problem or I would just accept what you said."

"No, I couldn't live with you always wondering," Sasha rushed on. "And I know you're thinking that you'll disap­point me when you question something I say. Shoot, I'll question you sometimes, too, but that doesn't mean I don't trust you. Besides, you can hear me if you listen real close."

"How, Sasha?"

She lifted his hand and placed it over her heart. "You hear love with your heart, not your mind. I can't read your thoughts, either, but I hear your love in every word you speak, every time you touch me, every kiss we share."

Damn. He'd never considered that she couldn't read his mind, either. She was taking as big a risk as him, more so if he could take her as a mate because she didn't know what she would be signing on for if they joined as one for life.

"I love you, Sasha." The words leaped out without thought, but now that he'd said them Trey would not take them back.

"I know you do. I love you, too, so let's stop spending our life apart."

"If I take a mate," he began and cleared his throat, "my mate and any children from the union would be subject to any repercussions I'd suffer from a bad decision."

"I don't understand." Sasha scrunched her forehead.

"Basically, if I break my oath—honor above all else—and take an action Macha considers dishonorable any mate will face the same fate she decrees for me."

"Oh, is that all?" Sasha smiled. "You're the most honor­able man I know. If she sends you away it means I go, too? That seals the deal for me. I trust you completely to make the right choices, so I'm in."

Which was exactly why that condition had been attached to all Belador unions. No warrior, male or female, would risk a mate by making a careless decision.

"The final decision is not in my hands," Trey added. "Be­ladors normally mate with humans, not another supernatu­ral. We carry a gene from our ancestors that could turn into an evil spawn if two Beladors mate. The woman in the holo­gram was Brina, the warrior queen who leads our tribe. She answers only to Macha. We'd have to get her permission and she can be—" Difficult, irritating, impossible to find . . .

I can also send you to live in Antarctica, Brina snapped.

Sorry, Brina.

"She's the leader of the Beladors?" Sasha asked. "Wow, she's so totally awesome and beautiful."

I like this girl, Brina piped up.

Brina, would you approve of Sasha as my mate? Trey asked before he couldn't find her again.

Sasha proved she is honorable and worthy of a Belador. Now you must prove you are worthy of her. I welcome her into our tribe. She'll at least assure you won't start another war. So marry her with my blessing.

Thank you, Brina, and thanks for tonight. I'm going to do my best to not disappoint you for helping me.

You'd better not disappoint me. A spot on his forehead tingled briefly—a Brina touch of affection. Then she was gone.

"Uh, Sasha, we got approval already."

"What? Did you two just talk? I'll have to think on how I feel about that."

Trey's stomach fell through the floor. "So you've changed your mind?"

"About what?"

"Marrying me."

"You haven't asked. Now that I think about it, I may make you wait for my answer as payback for nine years of misery."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed this woman who believed in him without question. Fate had thrown him a curve ball at twenty-one when he accepted his destiny. If he'd known then he would end up with Sasha, he'd have been a lot happier about it.

Trey broke the kiss. "I'm asking you tonight and you're answering me immediately."

"You think?" She grinned, full of mischief.

"I know. Give me five minutes with you in bed and you'll be willing to agree to anything,"

"That would be taking advantage of me, which may fall under the heading of dishonorable."

He turned serious. "There is no dishonor in loving a woman as much as I love you."

Sasha's mirth softened and her eyes glistened. "I believe you." She lifted up on her toes and kissed him, her lips hot­ter than fire. When she slid her hand down to rub an erection that might never go away with her always close, Trey groaned and kinetically turned off the lights near them. Sasha obvi­ously intended to take just as much advantage of him as he wanted her to. He willed her sweatshirt to split open down the middle and fall away, then dipped his head to prepare her for their negotiations.

Batuk's bellow shook the foundation of Mount Meru, his fury beyond all that Ekkbar had ever witnessed. Serving wenches scattered. His soldiers shuffled from the great hall.

The walls glowed fiery red. Flames spewed from crev­ices and loose boulders crashed against each other.

"M-master, please listen. All is not lost." Ekkbar's knees chattered against each other. When his master turned burn­ing eyes on him, the magician shrank away.

"I will not tolerate another lie from your poisonous mouth, knave!" Batuk reared up from his throne, chest ex­panding convulsively with each angry breath he drew. The tips of his fingers sparked, sharpening into claws.

"I do not lie, Master," Ekkbar whispered, his throat too dry to produce a full sound. "P-please hear me out. Hear me, please." He swallowed and rubbed a hand over his head. Sweat streamed into his eyes. Batuk's rant had steamed the nihar, threatening to boil the underworld inhabitants.

"Give me one reason I should not spend the rest of eter­nity in this dung pit slicing a strip off your skinny hide daily and making you fry it for my meal."

"B-because Vyan is still in the other world. Alive."

"I care not that he has survived when the rest of us are still imprisoned."

"Vyan can—" Ekkbar swallowed again, hoping he was not about to seal his grisly fate. "He can search for another to open the portal on his side." At the tiny spark of interest in Batuk's eyes, Ekkbar rushed ahead. " 'Tis true, 'tis true. I can guide him through dreams, just as I did the witch."

Batuk bared his teeth and snapped his fingers. A razor-edged dagger appeared in the palm of his hand.

Ekkbar cringed at his stupid blunder. Don't mention the witch again, ever. "But this time, Vyan will be on the other side to assure success. We can do this, Master."

Batuk growled low in his throat, panting. He stared off into nothing, thinking. The temperature slowly lowered un­til he dropped his gaze to Ekkbar. "You have one more chance."

EPILOGUE

Trey leaned against a giant oak at the side of the wide clearing, arms crossed and impatient as he waited for the strike of midnight. The two months Brina had made him wait to marry wouldn't have been a big deal if he hadn't spent half that time away from Sasha on VIPER missions.

Beladors, VIPER teammates, and the Wiccan side of his new family milled around. A full moon smiled down at its reflection in the lake surrounded by a fortress of Blue Ridge Mountains.

"I'm sorry you couldn't invite your father, Trey, but we'll have a lovely ceremony with him, too." Rowan glided to­ward him so smoothly he had to check to see that her se-quined shoes actually touched the ground beneath the tail of her garnet gown.

"I know." It hurt not to bring his father here, but Trey lived in two worlds sometimes and keeping his father in the normal one protected the only parent who had ever really loved him. And his dad was crazy about Sasha, always had been. He spent almost as much time now with Sasha as Trey did.

"Who all came from VIPER?" Rowan asked casually, but Trey knew who she was looking for.

"I invited Lucien, too, but I never heard a word from him."

"That doesn't surprise you, does it?"

"No. Just thought I'd let you know."

She smiled. "Thanks. I think I'll see him again. I like that Sasha wanted you in all black and everyone else in red."

He smiled, willing to have worn any color Sasha wanted, so long as she spent the rest of her life with him.

"Who sent the fairies?" Rowan asked. "Sasha loves them."

"Lucien " The dog. Trey glanced at the tiny sprites flut­tering around the tall wedding cake, lighting the layers with their blinking glows. "Wish I'd had a resource for them."

"Lucien?" Rowan's eyes melted with adoration.

Trey appreciated anything that made Sasha happy, just not from that guy.

The fairies began to hum, their voices rising into a haunt­ing ly beautiful melody.

"Excuse me, that's my cue." Trey stepped into the center of the opening.

From the shadows of the woods, Sasha appeared in a sprinkle of light where fairies fluttered around her. She wore short black boots with stiletto heels and a strapless dress of sheer material draped in alternating red and black layers. Trey had gifted her with the silver-and-black Belador pen­dant. The triangular icon crafted with their Celtic design hung from a silver choker.

Her lips were painted a deep red, so dark they were al­most black. The silky rush of black hair fanned her shoul­ders.

Trey hadn't thought he could love her any more than he already did, but he'd never forget her walking toward him at this minute. The attendants circled them when Sasha reached him. She held a bouquet of black roses and red baby's breath that Rowan had conjured up for her.

Trey leaned down to kiss his future mate and the love of his life. The roses in the bouquet sighed. When a hologram spun into vision, he turned his left wrist up where the shape of a star glowed beneath his skin; then he took Sasha's right wrist and pressed it to his. By the end of the ceremony, they would be linked for life.

Shooting stars exploded in the cloudless sky, showering the clearing with a dazzling light.

Trey whispered in Sasha's ear, "Those are from me."

Her beaming smile outshined the light display that con­tinued as Brina began the ceremony. No telepathy reached him tonight. His tribe had refrained from doing so as a con­sideration for his future wife, reaffirming for him the value of listening with his heart.

He squeezed her fingers. When Sasha smiled up at him, he accepted his destiny knowing she would always be at his side.