The track ended, then came back to life. She laughed when she realized it was on repeat, completely giving herself over to what she loved. Not thinking about her kid, or Lilah’s face. About Meister or the fucked-up hell she’d come from.

Her gaze locked on mine as she danced in my direction. She lifted her leg and straddled my lap. Her arms looped around my neck, and she tipped her head back, exposing her long pale neck. Her shoulders kept the beat, and her hips ground against me. I hardened in an instant. She felt it, I could tell, because when her eyes lowered, they were leaden. Reaching down, I pulled my cock from my jeans and lifted up her hips. I placed my tip at her pussy and guided her back down. Phebe’s moans were drowned by the music. But she kept moving to the beat, my hands running all over her body. I watched her as she danced, as she took me.

She danced and she danced until she came, taking me over the edge with her. Her head fell forward on my shoulder, and she laughed. I tipped my head back, catching my breath. “I like this song,” Phebe said breathlessly.

I nodded and smirked. “I always did. Like it even more now.”

She giggled. “I like these lyrics. The talk of being heroes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She smiled and laid her head on my shoulder. Her head kept time to the beat as Bowie sang about heroes seven more times. “Phebe?” She lifted her head. Her eyes were tired, but they were so fucking alive. “You’re moving in with me when we get back. You ain’t going back to Li’s. You belong with me.”

Red eyebrows rose in shock, but then a fucking melting smile came on her lips. “I belong with you,” she said and lay back on me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

Making love, she’d called our fucking. I thought about that, running over the words in my head.

And fuck, bitch was right.

She’d hooked me in, I’d taken the bait, but unlike the other unlucky bastards, she was never leaving me . . . because I’d hooked her in too.

For good.

Chapter Seventeen

Phebe

One week later . . .

“Sapphira?” My feet ran over the hard ground, propelled by the racing of my heart. The man pulled her into a big building. I ran, breath stolen as I followed them inside.

I choked on the smell. Then saw the man touching her leg as he pinned her down on a bed and pushed potion into her arm. Sapphira’s head fell to the side, and her brown eyes stared lifelessly at me. Her big brown eyes, with that notable freckle to the side of the left.

“Sapphira!” I ran forward and took her hand. All I felt was bones and coldness. I pushed it against my cheek, trying to wake her from her stupor, but her eyes just stared.

“Sapphira?” I cried, feeling my heart rip on seeing her in such a state of disarray. Her legs were bruised. Her face was bloodied. My beautiful baby was in pain. Forced into this hell too.

Her head turned, and I stilled. “Save me,” she said, her voice broken and sorrowful, devoid of life. “Save me, Mother . . . remember . . .”

“Remember what?” I asked, squeezing her hand, but her head lolled to the side once more and her eyes closed. I leaped forward and shook her too-thin shoulders. “Sapphira! Remember what?”

But there was nothing, nothing but the echo of her whispered words . . . “Save me, Mother . . . remember . . .”

My eyes flew open, but my body was paralyzed on the bed. “Phebe?” AK’s panicked voice reached my ears. I concentrated on breathing, but all I could hear was the residual echo of Sapphira’s dream voice begging me to help her. To remember.

“Remember what?” I croaked in confusion, my dry throat capturing my words.

AK’s face came over mine, his eyebrows pulled down. “Phebe, you were having a nightmare.”

I blinked his face into focus and concentrated on his words. A nightmare. It was a nightmare? It felt so real. My heart reacted as though my daughter were speaking to me in real life. Sometimes my dreams felt like memories. Sometimes my memories felt like dreams. It was impossible to know which was real and which was false.

I lifted my hand and stared at the palm, at the fingers. I clenched it into a fist. Because I could feel Sapphira’s small, bony hand in my own. Feel her cold, dry skin as if it were still clutched in mine.

“Phebe?” AK said again, then pressed his lips against mine. My eyes closed the minute I felt his comforting warmth seep into my mouth. His kiss was gentle, coaxing, and eventually my body relaxed and I slipped my arms around his neck.

It was a nightmare. It was only a nightmare.

AK ran his finger down my face. “You okay?”

I inhaled deeply, then nodded. “I . . .” I swallowed. “I dreamed of Sapphira. She was in trouble.” My eyes shimmered as I recalled her pleading words. “She called me ‘Mother,’” I whispered, my throat catching with emotion.

AK’s worried expression softened. “We’ll find her,” he said. I looked at him in confusion. He shrugged. “I already got someone looking.”

“You do?” I asked, barely able to believe he was speaking the truth.

“Yeah.” He glanced away, then said, “We’ll find her. Wherever she is, we’ll get her back for you.”

I studied this man, this man with the kindest eyes there ever were, and launched myself up and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you.” I held him as tightly as I could. When I pulled back, I looked about the room. For a moment I was confused as to where we were, but then I remembered we had driven home from the lodge last night.

As if reading my mind, AK said, “You fell asleep. I brought you in and put you to bed.” He paused. “It was an intense couple of weeks.”

I smiled, remembering the blissful time we had spent at the lodge. The waterfall, the music, the fire . . . the lovemaking. Then it hit me that we had returned. “I must visit Lilah,” I said.

AK nodded. “She knows you’re back. She wanted to come see you this morning, but I told her to wait until you were ready.”

“I am ready.” I got out of bed. “I . . .” I steadied myself. “I will tell her why I was drinking.” I straightened my back. “I will tell her it all. She deserves to know.” I kissed AK’s cheek and made my way to the shower. After I had cleaned and dressed, I went through to the kitchen.