She fell asleep on the flight back. She didn’t even wake up when Dragos changed, which he did with extreme control and dexterity. He held both front feet underneath her as the shift began. As he compacted, his forelegs shifted to human arms underneath her knees and shoulders, until he was standing as a man on the roof of the Tower, holding her sleeping form close to his chest.

The gryphons had already changed. They gathered around, staring at her along with Dragos. She was still shining.

Rune stood hipshot, his thumbs hooked into the belt holes of his jeans. He said in a quiet voice, “You realize, don’t you, that if this gets out she’s going to be hunted for the rest of her life.”

“She’s already aware of that, and so am I.” Dragos’s face was grim. “So it doesn’t get out. Nobody hears about it. Understand?”

“What about Aryal, Grym and Tiago?”

“Not even the other sentinels, not right now. This stays between us.” He looked down at her sleeping face resting against his shoulder. “She’s had a hell of a week for a lot of reasons. I want to give her a break and let her just be for a while. Then she can decide who gets to know and who doesn’t.”

She came half awake as Dragos eased her clothes off and tucked her into bed, only to roll over and bury her face in a pillow, one leg bent. He stripped, slid under the covers beside her and molded his body to hers, hooking his leg under hers, one arm tucked around her. She laced her fingers with his. He buried his face in her hair.

She slept hard and then dreamed of running. She woke with a start when she realized she was running on four legs, and the memory of what had happened sent a glow of happiness through her. The morning sun had brightened the room.

She looked at Dragos, who lay on his side facing her, one heavy arm draped around her. The hard lines of his face were quiet in sleep. The bedcovers had slipped to their waists, and the muscles of his chest and arms were relaxed. His eyelashes were twin curls of black against his bronze, lean cheeks, his inky hair tousled. His morning erection pressed against her hip.

He would never be a soft man. The capacity for violence lived and breathed under his skin. But he had shown her moments of extraordinary gentleness, and she suspected seeing him so relaxed in unguarded sleep was a rare gift of trust.

I love you, she almost said. But he had already confessed he didn’t know what love was. Her hands fisted.

Maybe he never would. Maybe this was as close as she could ever get if she accepted him as a mate. If she had to choose between being alone with him and being alone without him, she would far rather have what she could of him. She would have to learn to adapt to whatever relationship he was capable of having. It would have to be enough.

She curled her fingers around his thick penis and pressed her lips to his. He made a sound deep in his chest and kissed her back as he pushed his hips at her caressing hand. Then he nudged her legs apart, rolled on top of her and eased his erection inside. They both sighed when he was full in.

“That’s it,” he murmured. He nuzzled her ear. “That’s right.”

“Right where you belong,” she whispered. She hooked a leg around him and rubbed his broad back.

He rocked in her, flexing his big body over her, in her. It was so good, so good. He brought her slow and easy to a climax that was so rich it brought tears to her eyes. He was kissing her, hands framing her face, when he came.

She felt him begin to pulse inside as he leaned on his elbows and hunched over her, gasping, and his face was so transformed, so beautiful, she had to whisper it. “You’re mine.”

He opened his eyes and looked deep into hers, still shuddering.

“I’m yours,” he said.

They both fell asleep again with him inside her, basking in the morning sun. Sometime later she stirred and murmured a protest as he withdrew and lifted his weight off of her.

“I have things I need to do,” he said in a soft voice. “You stay in bed and rest.”

She gave him a sleepy pout. He kissed her forehead. She curled into his warm spot, hugged his pillow and dozed.

Such a funny little white dragon. His head was too big for his body. He focused on her, pure, determined love in his beautiful eyes as he wobbled toward her. He couldn’t get his hind legs coordinated with his front. He tumbled to the floor.

She couldn’t laugh. It would hurt his feelings. She clasped her hands tight together to avoid helping him. She said, Hey sweet baby.

Mommy, he said, crawling fast toward her. Mommy.

She lunged up in bed, heart knocking like a crazy thing. What the—

The bed spun. Nausea surged, this time uncontrollable. She jumped out of bed. She couldn’t get to the toilet in time but at least made it to the bathroom sink before she vomited until she couldn’t vomit anymore. Several times when she thought she was done, her stomach would lurch again until tears ran down her face and she was dry heaving in painful spasms.

Oh no. Oh no, no. This couldn’t be happening, not on top of everything else.

One of the advantages to being Wyr, for either male or female, was the ability for natural contraception. She had never been quite sure how it worked. It had something to do with fixing in one’s mind a barrier to pregnancy, and somehow that was connected to the ability for shape shifting. It was all part of control over one’s body.

Being half human, she had never had the ability, so she had to rely on human contraceptive techniques. She’d had a copper IUD implant for over a year now. It should be good for up to twelve years.

Except now Dragos was in her life, pouring everything into her, flooding her with his Power and se**n over and over again.

Claiming her any way he could.

Reeling from shock, she barely remembered to check if the transparent strings from the IUD were still in place. They were. But—she stretched her newly expanded senses down into her body. There. A tiny new life spark nestled deep inside.

Betrayal filleted her. That bastard.

She showered and dressed. T-shirt, knee-length khaki cargo shorts, running shoes. Thirty-five dollars borrowed from Rune, left over from buying the shoes. She walked out of the room.

This time it was Bayne and Aryal who lounged in the hall. Pia drew up short at the sight of the tall, powerful, leather-clad woman with tangled black hair, a strange gaunt beauty and stormy gray, judgment-filled eyes.

Bayne greeted her with a wide smile. Aryal did not. The harpy gave her a level look, her angular face cold.

“Where’s Con?” Pia asked.

“He had other business to take care of,” Bayne told her. “Aryal’s filling in for the afternoon.”

“Got a problem with that?” Aryal asked, one eyebrow angling up insolently.

Pia’s mouth pinched. What the f**k ever. She was just grateful she didn’t have to look Graydon in the face. She ignored the harpy’s question and jerked her thumb at the open doorway. “Go on in and see what’s on TV. Could you make some coffee, please? Better make it a pot if you want some. I’m going to grab some breakfast. Be right back.”

“You got it,” Bayne said with a cheerful smile.

Act casual. Go down the hall. Past the kitchen and dining room.

She glanced over her shoulder as she rounded the corner. Bayne and Aryal had disappeared into the suite. She ran for the elevator and the stairwell that opened into the huge living room area. The elevator was key-operated at the penthouse level, a problem she couldn’t solve since she couldn’t pry the doors open. The stairwell door was locked.

No problem there. It would be the work of a moment to push open that door and ease through.

She flattened her shaking hands on the door panel and leaned on it, breathing hard as the feeling of being trapped in a cage came back stronger than ever. The urge to run was overwhelming. She fought to get past panic, pain and betrayal to think things through with some semblance of rationality.

Even if she tried she might not make it out of the Tower. There were a hell of a lot of stairs down to the street level. She might have five minutes to get out of the building, ten at most if she locked the bathroom door and the sentinels thought she was taking her own sweet time doing female things in the bathroom.

And what would she face if she did manage to get out? The danger from Urien and his forces hadn’t gone away just because she was having a bad day and needed to get the hell out of here.

Be smart for once. Don’t add another thing to your stupid list.

Nausea surged again. She closed her eyes, clenched her fists and fought her body for control.

Behind her, Bayne said, “Pia? Is everything all right?”

She took a deep breath, braced her shoulders and turned. She said, “Dragos said I could go anywhere. I need to go out.”

God knew what the expression on her face revealed. It could not have been good, for the gryphon regarded her with a sober face and concerned eyes, quite unlike his earlier cheer. “Can you tell me what you need?” he asked. “I would be more than happy to get you anything you want—”

Her self-control slipped its leash. She went into a meltdown. She whirled and kicked the door, which resonated with a hollow, metallic boom. The sound was kinda like a bomb going off in your face. It was kinda like finding out you’re pregnant when you shouldn’t be. Yeah, kinda like that.

“I need to go out,” she shouted. She pushed against the closed door with her fists. “I am not all right.” Kick. “I need to not talk about it. I need for Dragos to leave me the hell alone.” Kick. “I need for you to stop asking me questions and just take me where I need to go. Will you f**king do that for me or not?”

Suddenly Aryal was there. Both sentinels moved to stand on either side of her, their faces turning still and watchful. They moved like soldiers, athletic bodies light on their feet. Bayne’s easygoing demeanor had vaporized. He blanketed her in protective male energy and put a gentle hand on her back. “Of course we will,” he said. “We will take you anywhere you need to go.”

“Bayne,” Aryal said.

“Standing orders,” he said to her. The harpy’s lip curled but she said nothing.

Pia’s breath shook out of her. She turned blindly to the elevator. Bayne guided her inside. He kept a steadying hand on her shoulder while Aryal shifted to stand between her and the elevator doors. She wrapped her arms around her middle, staring blindly at a point between Aryal’s shoulders as the penthouse elevator plummeted eighty stories to the ground floor.

The doors opened and they strode out. Aryal remained on point while Bayne moved so close beside her his shoulder brushed hers while his sharp gaze roamed over the large, crowded ground floor. Then they pushed out the revolving doors into sunshine and a busy New York street.

She paused, one hand pressed to her abdomen. She could hardly believe it. They had actually kept to their word and taken her outside the Tower.

Silently Bayne urged her forward, toward a black Porsche SUV that had appeared as if by magic and idled at the curb. Aryal glanced around with a sharp gaze, tangled hair blowing across her angular face as she slid into the driver’s seat. Bayne opened the rear door for Pia. She climbed in, twisted around and barred him from sliding into the seat along with her. For a brief moment his gaze met hers, and the kindness and concern in his eyes pierced through her internal upheaval. Then he stepped back, closed her door and moved to the front passenger’s seat.

“Okay, Pia,” said Bayne. Aryal’s frigid gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. “Where to?”

“Brooklyn.” As Bayne’s hand went out to hover over the car’s GPS system, she said, “I’ll give you directions as you need them.”

The two sentinels exchanged a glance. “All right,” Aryal said.

The Porsche pulled into traffic.

Pia huddled in her seat and stared out the window as they passed the Fifty-ninth Street subway station. Dragos said in her head, Pia, what are you doing?

She closed her eyes. It had been too much to hope that the sentinels would keep quiet about their outing. What she wouldn’t give for a little privacy right now.

Don’t talk to me, she said to Dragos.

You left the Tower. His mental voice was so quiet and controlled it sent a chill down her spine. You promised you wouldn’t.

She snarled, I said don’t talk to me, you son of a bitch.

A heartbeat, and then, his calm quite stripped away, he demanded, What’s happened?

Shut up. Get out of my head.

Pia, goddammit. When she didn’t answer he roared, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO NOW?

His telepathic shout reverberated in her skull. She clapped a hand to her forehead. Don’t yell at me like that. I can’t think! Give me a minute.

Her body felt numb, her seat belt the only thing anchoring her in place as Aryal suddenly cut across traffic. How could Dragos even ask her that? How could he not realize that she would know, now that she had made the full change to Wyr?

I’m sorry for shouting at you. He turned coaxing. Bayne and Aryal won’t say anything, just that you’re upset and they’re taking you where you need to go. Gray’s worried about you. We can talk about anything that’s wrong, can’t we? Pia, please. You’re killing me here.

Whatever else anyone might say about him, he had a wily wisdom that could slip inside a person like a stiletto. She wiped her eyes and tried to process. You don’t know . . . anything . . . about what’s going on?

I swear I don’t. His response was strong and immediate. Whatever has happened, we can fix it.

Could they? How?

Tell me where you’re going, he said. We’ll do it together.

Dragos, just give me the afternoon. She held on to a door handle as the Porsche hit an open stretch and gathered speed. I need to calm down and think, and I need to find out some things before I can talk to you.