“You haven’t been a part of our world long enough to know just how wrong things can go,” said Logan.

This was not the kind of lovers’ argument Cain wanted to witness. It was a private affair, and he wanted to help keep it that way.

He stood up and left the room with Rory in his arms. He kicked the door shut behind him, muting sounds of their increasingly heated argument.

When he got to the kitchen, he paused long enough to ask, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. You can put me down now.”

Cain grudgingly eased her to the floor, holding her hand and making sure she was steady on her feet. She swayed, and her eyes didn’t seem to focus on any one thing. He wasn’t sure if that was from grogginess, or if her visions had come back despite his touch.

“I’m fine. You can let go.”

Shame burned in his cheeks. “I’m afraid I can’t. Not if you want me in any shape to drive.”

She nodded, her head wobbly, and laced her fingers through his. “I’d kill us right now if I got behind the wheel, but I really want to leave. If I did anything to hurt Hope, I’d never forgive myself.”

Cain knew all too well how horrible hurting another felt. He couldn’t stand the thought of Rory suffering through such guilt. “I won’t let that happen.”

He led her outside to his truck. Rory crawled in, moving over so he could get in behind the wheel. He kept his grip on her fingers tight so they didn’t accidentally slip away. Not that that was any hardship. He liked the feeling of her delicate fingers laced through his, the warmth of her skin, and the trembling streamers of energy vibrating between them. It was all he could do to focus on operating the vehicle safely.

Cain drove out of the city toward Dabyr, pleased that she was on her way to where she belonged. He hadn’t wanted to be the one to take her, but he was counting this as a victory nonetheless.

Until she went stiff beside him and cast him a glare so acidic he could feel it against the side of his face. “You knocked me out,” she said as if just now remembering. “I was going to leave and you knocked me out.”

Cain blew out a breath and accepted his incoming scolding. “I sent you to sleep. You left me no choice.”

“Yeah? Well, you’ve left me no choice. Pull the fuck over.”

“Why?”

“Because in about ten seconds I’m letting go of your hand, and I’d rather not die in a fiery crash and spill my blood everywhere so the monsters find us and eat our corpses.”

* * *

Ronan preferred the role of hunter to prey.

He could smell the fetid stench of demons tracking him, hear their skittering hearts racing. There were more than a dozen of them following along behind him. He couldn’t very well let them follow him to the human couple whose sick, blooded son he needed to heal.

Ronan led them away from his destination and found a quiet, dark loading dock at the back of a vacant warehouse. There were no prying eyes here—no reason for him to waste his precious, dwindling stores of magic on shielding what he was about to do from sight of humans.

The cold air seeped through his leather trench coat, into his bones. The chill slowed his reflexes and made his joints ache with the need for warmth.

He was on his own out here—the way he preferred. Despite the fact that a Theronai’s blade would be handy right about now, his job was simpler when he had to make no explanations to another for his actions.

Project Lullaby needed him, and his dedication to saving his race had to be absolute.

Ronan drew his sword and turned to face the oncoming threat. His gaze cut through the darkness, latching on to the first demon brave enough to show itself.

It was small, but he knew better than to let that make him overconfident. Even the tiniest demon could kill a man just as dead as a giant one could. The only difference was that he had a chance at defeating something so small without exhausting his dwindling power.

The demon’s thick insectoid tail was curved up over its back, with three long barbs gleaming from the tip. It moved fast, low to the ground, its claws making only the faintest sound along the cold asphalt. A pale green glow spilled from its six eyes as it neared Ronan.

In the distance more of the things appeared, their eyes lighting with hunger and excitement. He heard the fluttering of their hearts speed with anticipation as they scrambled to reach him.

Ronan counted twenty before the first one got close enough for him to strike. He speared it with the tip of his sword and flung it against a wall hard enough to make it splatter. By the time he turned back around, another three of the things were at his feet.

He kicked two away and stomped on a third.

More flooded close, and Ronan had no choice but to jump back onto the thin ledge of concrete left outside the closed dock door.

The demons crawled up the wall, not even slowing.

Ronan no longer had the luxury of options. His sword was no good against so many of the things. He was going to have to dip into his reserves.

He gathered power from his cells, feeling it tingle along his limbs as a faint blue light seeped from his skin. His fingertips blazed like blue flame as the energy coalesced into a searing disk.

Ronan slammed that power down on the horde at his feet, ordering the disk to roll over the demons and crush them as it passed.

The small creatures screamed as they died. Only a few escaped, cowering in the shadows nearby.

His flesh felt like it was sagging on his bones. Every breath was labored, every beat of his heart an effort. A deep chill sank into him, shaking him from the inside out, whispering to him that he was never going to be warm again.

He leaned against the door, letting it support his weight while he caught his breath.

Three of the demons remained, inching closer as if sensing his weakness.

Through a sheer effort of will, Ronan lifted his sword just as the first demon charged.

He sliced through it, more by accident than skill, but by the time he’d recovered from the swing, one of the demons had crawled up his leg and shoved its barbs into his thigh. The other one seemed to be going for his groin.

Not in this lifetime.

Ronan plucked it off, and as soon as his skin touched it, he felt a wave of malignant compulsion seeping from the thing. The power of that compulsion was so strong, it shocked Ronan to stillness.

The demon that had stung him jumped off and scurried away. There was no sign of poison in his blood, which was odd, but what was even more important was figuring out who was controlling these things. They weren’t simply demons out looking for food. They were under orders, and whoever had given those orders was the real threat.

Ronan kept a firm hold on the demon’s tail while he reached into its puny mind, searching for answers. There were no real thoughts inside the thing, only instincts and the most basic of emotions.

It was sent to hunt him. It knew his scent as well as that of several others. Its orders were to collect blood and bring it back to the one who’d compelled it to hunt. There was no hint of why the blood was needed, no trace of rational thought beyond its mission.

But there was something there—a whisper of power running through it, controlling it.

Ronan reached for that power. He studied it, memorized it as he would a scent. It was vile and reeked of malignance. Vengeance.

The Synestryn that had sent these demons out was powerful and looking for revenge on very specific targets. And now it had Ronan’s blood.

Chapter 7

Rory’s head was still foggy, but her anger was helping her wake up faster than any double espresso ever could.

Cain’s fingers tightened between hers, and the firmer contact made those warm tingles soak into her even faster.

His voice was low and calm. “I’m not pulling over. You’re being unreasonable.”

“No. Unreasonable would be pulling my hand away before giving you fair warning. I think I’m being a saint under the circumstances.”

He didn’t pull over. The sky was beginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn, and as they sped down the highway, she could see traffic picking up in the opposite direction as it flowed into the city.

“I’m not stopping. Not until I get you to Dabyr.”

“I don’t know who or what that is, but I’m not going anywhere with someone who would rather knock me out than accept my decision to leave.”

“You’ll be safe at Dabyr. It’s well protected, and the walls keep out most hostile magic. There are people there who may be able to help your visions disappear.”

As tempting as that was, it had to be too good to be true. “How?”

“The same way I help you, but more . . . permanent.”

“How permanent?” She wasn’t sure if she could survive having her visions go away only to return again. At least now she had hope to cling to. If the visions came back . . .

“That would be your decision.”

“You make it sound simple,” she said.

“I promise it’s anything but simple.” He didn’t expand on that, and his silence was thick and heavy, telling her that he was done discussing it.

Rory should have pushed the issue of forcing him to pull over, but her fear held her back. She was so close to the city, she knew that as soon as she stopped touching him, her visions would inundate her. Thousands of sights would flood her head, leaving her blind and stumbling along the highway—not a good position to be in. “Are there many people there?”

“About five hundred or so.”

“How big is this neighborhood?”

“It’s not a neighborhood, it’s more of a compound. There are some smaller structures, but most of Dabyr is one big building.”

She groaned at the thought. “Five hundred people under one roof? You’ve just described my version of hell.”

“It’s lovely. You’ll like it.”

“Like it? How would you like to have the things that five hundred people see shoved into your brain all at once, setting your eyeballs on fire? How do you think those people will feel knowing that I can’t help but invade their privacy? Or will you keep that a secret and use me as some kind of spy?”

The truck slowed and he moved into the right lane. “I hadn’t considered that going there would hurt you. My only thought was to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, well, I’m safe at home. Just take me back to my car and we’ll forget we ever met each other.” As soon as she uttered the words, she knew how ridiculous they were. Cain was not a man easily forgotten. Not his size, or his power, or his lethal ability with that invisible sword. Not the way his skin felt as it brushed hers. Even now, after several minutes to get used to his touch, she still felt every strand of electric warmth as it slid into her, wrapping around her spine and making her tingle all the way down to her toes.

“Where is your home?” he asked.

“You really think I’m going to tell you that?”

“If that’s where you want to go, then that’s where I’ll take you. If you tell me where to go, that is.”

She needed her car, but if she could at least get home before the city woke up and bombarded her with visions, that would be better than nothing. She’d find another way to get her car back.