And even if he had been successful in hiding he would have paid for it in other ways. He would have lost his connection to Jackson and Docia, the only family outside of his mother that he had ever cared for.

He would have died a little if he’d had to turn his back on the Waverlys. And he would have suffered as a person. Jackson had always been his moral compass. Always a fervent boy scout, Jackson’s drive to do the right thing and to demand Leo do the same kept Leo honest and reminded him not to let the dark underworlds he traveled in drag him down with them.

And maybe that was why he was so terrified of what Jackson had metamorphosed into. Maybe he was afraid of navigating the world without his true north.

“You’re right,” he conceded. It was a concept he understood all too well, actually. And then there was another aspect. By keeping all of this hidden, they were protecting the minds and spirits of the mortals around them. Right now they lived in the bliss of ignorance. It would be nothing but terror and stress for them if they were to learn of the darkness slithering around so close to their exposed jugulars. “Though there are some, like me, who could perform well under the pressure of knowing the truth and protect themselves in spite of the extreme difference in capability, most cannot. I am by far an exception.”

“But even then…you weren’t,” she reminded him as gently as possible. And she was right. As cold and hard a truth as it was, she was right. All the skill and strength in the world could not have protected him in the face of beings as powerful as Kamenwati and Chatha.

“I know,” he said softly, searching her eyes for something, anything to secure him as he faced that terrible fact. He saw sympathy swim across her features, the look so soft and gentle, so understanding, it tightened his chest and throat with emotion. He knew she understood what it meant to be weaker than an opponent. He didn’t need to wonder why. The creatures they were about to go up against explained it easily. One touch and she would be dead.

“I don’t want you to come,” he said, his breath coming hard and fast the more he thought about her vulnerability.

“I have to. You need me.”

His fingers reached to touch her forehead, drawing a gentle line from one side to the other, and then falling back onto her cheek. God, the urge to kiss her came out of nowhere. But when it came, it came with raging force. However, before he could accept or reject the command, she surged up onto the tips of her toes, pressing her mouth up against his and reached to plow her fingers through his hair. His breath caught in his throat and he expected revulsion to streak into him, but he had forgotten what the Djynn had shown him. He had forgotten they already knew each other as passionate lovers.

Whether it was true or not, it simply was. He caught her head between his hands and pulled her up into the kiss even more tightly, letting the lushness of her mouth pervade his senses. He did not introduce his tongue to her, did not seek the same. He wanted to know her, without deception or fabrication, for who she really was and how she really felt.

And he had never known such an electric sensation in all of his life. Having kissed a great many women, of all shapes, sizes, personality, and creed, none had evoked that startling sensation. It made him draw back in surprise, made him leave her if for no other reason than to see if the sensation continued on separate and apart from her. To prove to himself its origin.

“What the hell?” he breathed across her mouth.

She smiled. “I guess Grey left that part out,” she mused.

“Fuck right he did.”

“It’s just…my chemistry. Night Angel chemistry. I’m told that the sensation for a human is similar to licking—”

“A nine-volt battery,” he finished for her, “only a hell of a lot more powerful.”

“In a bad way?” she asked, a frisson of anxiety stealing over her features.

“No. No, not in a bad way,” he said before pulling her back to his mouth and letting that sensation wash over him anew. Good god, what a feeling it was! And it didn’t stop at the physical connection of their mouths. It streaked electric awareness through his entire nervous system. It was amazing how quickly addicting it was. How he wanted more and more of it with every passing instant. To that end he dragged her up close and tight, fitting her lean strength to his, reveling in how she was soft and potent all at once. Her fingers bled out of his hair, trailing down the side of his neck, and he started a little when it felt like a static charge had leapt from her skin to his.

“Jesus,” he breathed against her lips. And then he wanted more again. More then just this surface connection. He began an onslaught, opening his mouth over hers, coaxing more of the same from her. He heard her make a small sound of pleasure and it went through him like that static charge. That was the instant he knew he had to have her and he would take her with all due haste. What lengths that desire reached to, he didn’t know right then. All he knew was that he craved every aspect of her that she was willing to give. And she seemed very willing as she opened her mouth for him, inviting the invasion of his tongue and meeting it with an invasion of her own. If he had thought her kisses to be electric before, they now seemed chaste in comparison to the whipcord heat and desire racing through him.

Now they were ribcage to ribcage, her br**sts pressed against him, her belly flush to his. And still he pulled her in tighter. He didn’t understand why it didn’t feel like enough, why it felt as though he were starving for the feel of her still. Maybe because the taste of her was so incredible. Maybe because though she felt like it, she certainly didn’t taste like licking the top of a battery. No, that was a tart, acrid thing, and she was everything sweet and delicious. He had never been one for fine dining, but he could recognize it when he tasted it.

Somehow his hands had found position on her body, one on her upper back and the other sliding down over her backside. He’d always been partial to a girl with a nice ass, and maybe that was why he was more than a little turned on by hers. He used his grip to connect their lower bodies along with their upper and that was when he realized just how hard he was. It should be funny, the idea that he would be unaware of something like that, but it was just another shock to him, just like the way she kissed him shocked him.

Then he found himself remembering things. Remembering the way she had felt beneath him, the way she had felt around him…and just by remembering that hard state became even more so. A thousand thoughts and impulses seemed to race through his mind all at once, but what it all boiled down to was him wanting her, and her acting very much like she wanted him in return. She was like holding on to a live wire, dancing and wriggling in his grip, her body curving up against him, rubbing up against him. She moaned, and he felt it right to the bottom of his being.

Christ. Christ almighty, was it safe to want this powerfully? Was it normal?

No, it wasn’t normal, and that was exactly the reason why it felt so damn good. Even if she wasn’t of his kind, hell…not even of his species, she was very clearly in his blood and it was an intense experience just begging to be had.

But just when he would have pushed even harder, she jerked away from him. She wrenched herself out from between his hands, leaving him feeling shockingly bereft.

“What?” he demanded, surprised to hear the exasperation of the query. He’d never been the type to ignore the signals a woman was giving off, and pulling away was a huge signal. But instead he was feeling cheated, feeling impatient to get back to where they’d just been.

“You don’t even like me! You hate my entire kind!” she blurted out, her breathing just as labored as his was, her fingers pressing against her mouth as if to placate it for what she’d taken away from it.

“I…” He hesitated, trying to think clearly enough to respond. She was right, wasn’t she? At least, as far as she knew. He’d had nothing but ichor oozing out of himself toward her kind from the moment they had met…longer even. “Believe me,” he said with no little bewilderment. “I’m just as shocked as you are.”

“Fine,” she said, her eyes filling with anger. “Let’s chalk it up to momentary insanity on your part and leave it at that.”

She went to turn away, to leave him, and he didn’t know why, but he grabbed her by her arm and turned her back to him.

“I’m not going to do that,” he heard himself saying. Really? So what now, genius? “I don’t hate you,” he said, and the moment he said it he knew it was true…and by the expression on her face he could see that she knew it, too.

“This…all of this,” she said indicating their closeness, “is because of what Grey did to us. It’s not real.”

“Felt pretty damn real to me,” he argued. “Felt better than real, for that matter.”

Now that statement seemed to give her pause, so he took advantage of the opportunity and moved in, taking her mouth with his once more, but this time slower, more gently. Savoring that sparking sensation and the simple warmth of her. When the kiss ended he could see the hesitation in her eyes and he didn’t blame her for not trusting him.

“Put it all aside,” he said quietly. “Forget what Grey showed us. Forget whatever suggestions we might feel is motivating this. Strip it down to the skin and you’ll realize, just like me, that there’s something very intriguing here. Something…” He kissed her lips with aching softness and breath stealing slowness before speaking again. “Something that’s just us.”

She let him kiss her again and he felt victorious for it. He had coaxed another kiss from her and it fed the seething hunger building inside of him. For every moment she let him stay he wanted another two, for every four he wanted eight. It was beyond exponentials. It was beyond anything he’d ever known…or cared to know. Usually something like this…something outside of the norm…was something to be avoided at all costs. The kind of life he led, there was no room for extraordinary things when it came to women. In his experience they simply couldn’t take him in serious measure. No average woman could ever cope with the mercenary way he lived his life and the deadly games he played. So that meant lying. And anyone worth having wouldn’t deserve the stack of lies he’d have to tell just so she would find comfort and peace of mind. It was exactly what she had been saying. They were better off not knowing.

This time he was the one who broke away from her. He backed away, stunned by the turn of his thoughts. It was like a new shoe in the wrong size. It didn’t fit him. And it would be painful to wear besides. It must have shown clearly on his face because she sighed, a deflation of her energy that told him she understood him all too well.

“It will be daylight soon. Perhaps we should take the opportunity to sleep.”

“Okay,” he said, as he tried to cut off this seemingly new urge to examine his motivations.

But it wasn’t okay. Feeling her move away, feeling her growing more distant…it was everything but okay.

Why? he asked himself. Why was this frustration and confusion present like this? This should be a clear-cut understanding that he was better off keeping a fair distance from her. And frankly she was better off keeping a fair distance from him. This physical connection…it was all wrong.

So why couldn’t he just walk away? Why couldn’t he file it under the “get out while you still can” category and feel lucky for the escape? He’d done it before. Dozens of times. Probably more times than was right.

But she was different. Just by virtue of being a Night Angel, she didn’t fit neatly into all the little categories he usually put women into. She was a puzzle and a wild card and he simply didn’t know what to do with her.

“Tell me, what does a Night Angel princess do besides run around saving the world?” he asked as he followed her over to the comfortable grouping of sofas. He watched her sit down, curling her legs beneath herself, her head tilting to the left a little as she quietly took his measure.

“Isn’t saving the world enough?” she asked. But he could hear that light brush of amusement in her voice and it made him shoot her a wry grin.

“It’s a pretty decent occupation I suppose. I’ve done it one or two times myself.”

He took a seat on the other end of the sofa, turning himself toward her so he could continue to study her. And there they sat, side by side, each trying to grasp what made the other tick.

“My father rules the North America Night Angels with a very careful hand. He has expectations of his people. He makes it very clear that there is a code we must live by and he won’t settle for anything less. It’s a code we enjoy fulfilling, otherwise my father would not be ruler to one of the most powerful Nightwalker races on this planet.”