They weren’t your average catalog style poses, oh no, not my favorite vampire. The best way to describe these pictures was that they mimicked something out of Rolling Stone. Case in point: the black-and-white 10 x 12 of him standing naked while he strummed the guitar resting over his unmentionables. The jerk didn’t even play guitar, although I doubted anyone else would care about his lack of musical talent.

I tipped the frame so it faced down, only to roll my eyes at a profile shot of him on the mantel. And was this one ever a doozie. Misha stood shirtless in black leather pants and black boots, holding a giant bow and arrow aimed at a naked blonde. She knelt on a bar stool with her hands cupping her breasts and an apple in her mouth. I wasn’t qualified to interpret art, but by the way her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back, I had the strange feeling the apple and the arrow depicted more than Misha’s ability to shoot arrows. That one got flipped, too.

The third was another black and white, with Misha portrayed as “The Thinker.” It appeared to have been taken outside in the garden. He sat on a large stone surrounded by a multitude of flowers. From the flowers emerged hands…lots and lots of hands from women tempting and begging him to choose them. If I knew Misha, they had all gotten their wish.

They reminded me in a way of Shah’s makeshift limbs poking from the ground. I laughed when the hands in the pictures applauded, mimicking Shah’s in that field. I glanced around, realizing I had company. “Where are you?”

When I returned my attention to the photo, Shah lay beside it. I lifted him. “You like to have your fun, don’t you, kid?”

I carried him with me when I entered the bedroom suite to shower. Not only did I find my cellphone, but some clothing in my size. Misha was an overly sexed and usually inappropriate being, but he did have a heart and a way of being kind that was unmatched.

After showering I called Aric. He answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”

I placed Shah on top of a throw pillow beside me. “Not really. This whole situation is so messed up.” I didn’t bother telling him how even bathing was becoming taxing. My arms felt weak just lifting them to shampoo my hair. It would have made him feel worse and more stressed about finding Tura.

“I promise you I’m going to make Tura pay for what he’s done.”

There was an underlying bite to his tone. “Did something happen when I left?” His silence answered for me. A horrible feeling swept through me. “Aric, are my sisters okay?”

“Tura made Emme and Shayna attack each other. The Elders and I fought to separate them, but he kept jumping back and forth between us as if playing a game.”

“Oh my God. Are they okay?”

“They’re fine, and safe, and that’s how they’ll be. I promise.”

I tried to erase the image of Shayna and Emme going after each other. They were so close. “How did you stop him?”

“He jumped into Bren while Koda was seeing to Shayna’s injuries. Tura tried to send him after Emme before she could finish healing, but Bren was able to fight his hold and keep from hurting her.”

Holy shit.

Aric continued to speak, seemingly unaware of the significance of Bren’s response. Something was definitely different between Bren and Emme. “Genevieve is trying to throw something together to help them. But anything she can conjure will only give us a slight delay…and Taran is resisting any help from her.”

“Fabulous.” My head fell against the pillow. Shah appeared on my belly. I stroked him and tried to calm myself. “Doesn’t she understand Tura gained all his initial power by making hundreds, if not thousands, of blood sacrifices? He was deadly to begin with and now that he’s drawn from your strength, I have no clue how we’re going to stop him.” I let out a frustrated breath. “Taran has to let this thing with Genevieve go. At least for the time being.”

“But she won’t. Hell, as pissed as Taran is, I’m waiting for her to take a swing. She flat-out refused Genevieve’s help, called her an opportunistic twit, and told her she didn’t trust her or her coven.”

I slapped my hand against my forehead. “She called her a twit?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, sweetness. She called her something close to it, but you’re my mate and I won’t use that word around you.”

I groaned, realizing what he meant. “How did Genevieve take that?”

Aric paused. “She told Taran she’s sorry she feels that way, and only means to help.”

Once more Genevieve took the high road thereby making Taran look like the psycho jealous ex. I couldn’t be sure if Genevieve was really that refined or that cunning. Either way, my loyalty remained with my sister. “Okay, vulgar name calling aside, I can’t really blame Taran for being angry. That said, for now, the witches are the only ones who can help us. I’ll talk to her. Hopefully, I can reason with her.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” We spoke a little longer but neither of us were ever ones for small talk. “Try to rest,” he finally said. “You’ll need your strength to fight Tura when the time comes.”

“Okay,” I said quietly. I wouldn’t admit that I was scared to close my eyes and dream.

“Goodbye, sweetness,” he said.

“Goodbye, wolf. Call me tonight if you can.”

“I will, I promise.”

I disconnected and headed into the kitchen where Agnes sat cross-legged on the counter licking a lollipop. On the table was a tray full of homemade fried chicken, along with biscuits, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, coleslaw, and a gravy boat filled to the rim with hot brown goodness. Misha’s chef knew a way to a girl’s heart.

“What’s the rock doing with you?” she asked, motioning to Shah.

“He just appeared,” I explained, feeling defensive.

“You didn’t call it—him.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

I tucked him into the pocket of my sweatpants. “No. And my favorite color is blue. Anything else you want to know?”

Agnes frowned when the bulge in my pocket vanished. Shah was gone again. “What does the rock want from you, Celia?”

I shook my head. “He doesn’t want anything. I think he’s lonely.”

Her frown deepened. “Just when I think you couldn’t be more of a freak you surprise me.”