When Bree awoke, she found herself staring up at a tiny square window, the glow of the silver moon brightening up the incredible darkness that had consumed her mind. A strong hand encircled hers, holding tight. She twisted her head to the side to see Rafe hunched over her.

He gave her a smile, those bright silver eyes of his lighting a fire in her belly. Even though she hurt all over, there was something about his face that made her feel as though everything would be okay.

“There she is.” He squeezed her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone blasted a rocket at my chest.”

“I am going to assume that means something painful,” he said with a slight smile. Sometimes, Bree forgot just how little the Dark Fae knew about the human realm. There were no rockets or satellites or space stations here.

“Let’s just say I feel like I’ve been shot.” She winced as she tried to move, pain lancing through her entire chest. “How bad is it?”

“Fairly bad.” The smile vanished from Rafe’s face. “If you were not a shapeshifter, I might be concerned this wound would be your last.”

A fancy way of saying she could die from this.

“Do I have some special healing powers I don’t know about?” Bree asked, feeling a little bit more hopeful than she’d felt seconds before. Kael and the other Light Fae had never mentioned a healing ability to her, but maybe Rafferty knew something they didn’t.

He winced as he gave her a smile. “Yes and no. You have a special way of healing yourself, but I am afraid to say it will be just as painful as the original injury.”

“How fun,” Bree said with a grimace.

“And you will have to undergo the pain a few times in order to fully heal. Perhaps six or so based on what I can see of this wound.”

“Six times?” Bree winced as she attempted to move again, pain lancing through her entire body. She felt as though she was about to be split in half, and her left side would just fall off if she attempted to move again. Hell, she probably wouldn’t mind if it did, just as long as it meant this pain would stop. “You know what? Fine. What do I have to do to fix this?”

“Shift into your beastly form. And then shift back. Every time you do this, your body will remake itself, slowly healing the wound until it is fully gone.”

“I have to shift into the beast? Like this?” Bree gazed up at him, desperately hoping she’d heard him wrong. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am afraid so, Bree.” He took her hand in his and squeezed. “If it helps, I have undergone this pain myself. I was attacked by several members of the Wilde Fae. I was good enough for dead, and I thought the last thing I would see was my blood on their teeth.”

Shivers coursed through Bree, a sensation that caused the pain to rip through her once again. “But you healed yourself? By shifting into your raven and back?”

He nodded. “And I had to do it far more than six times. My wounds were numerous. I truly thought my entire body would be split into a million pieces, but I made it out on the other side. I no longer even have any scars. The attack on me is now nothing more than a distant memory, just as yours will be.”

The attack. Two words that snagged in Bree’s mind. In the midst of all the pain, she hadn’t even thought about the reason for the wound in the first place. Someone had shot her with an arrow. Someone wanted her dead.

Or someone wanted her to suffer greatly. That spark of hatred flared to life inside her gut. Had the Prince ordered this? Had he wanted her to endure this horrible amount of pain? Just because she’d kicked him?

“Who shot me?” she asked. “Was that part of my punishment? Did the Prince do this to me?”

Rafe’s eyes widened. “Of course not. You are far too valuable to Taveon, and he is not that kind of fae to cause such suffering in anyone, even his slaves.”

“I find that hard to believe when he ordered me to dance until I collapsed from exhaustion.”

Rafe pressed his lips into a thin line. “His hand was forced. He could not let you get away with it. If you had kicked him behind closed doors, that would have been one thing. But you did it in front of other members of the Court. In front of Lord Dagen.”

Bree closed her eyes, both from the pain of the wound and the pain of his words. She didn’t know why she was upset that Prince Taveon was willing to inflict so much pain on her, but she most certainly was. It was one thing to lock her up in a cell and force her to train with Rafe, but it was another thing entirely to make her hurt.

And he probably delighted in her suffering.

“That’s exactly what I mean, Rafferty,” she said in whispered words, clenching her teeth against the pounding in her chest. “I forced his hand. He was already causing me pain. Maybe he didn’t think it was enough. Maybe he thought an arrow to the chest would really put me in my place.”

Rafe fell silent. He was probably the only fae in the entire Court who actually felt remorse about what she was enduring. She could see it in his eyes. It was written all over the furrowed lines on his face. He wanted to help her. And no matter how much he wanted to think it, Prince Taveon didn’t. Bree had noted his absence.

“Where is he?” she couldn’t help but ask.

And why wasn’t he worried she would die?

“He could not be seen running out after you,” Rafe said grimly. “If the Court thought he cared about the fate of one of his slaves—”

Bree squeezed her eyes tight. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

Rafe let out a heavy sigh. “Very well. We should get started on your healing.”

Bree nodded, swallowing hard. It was time to change into the beast, something she dreaded with every bone in her body. Rafe held her hand and talked her through it, murmuring the same words he’d said before. Bree pictured the beast, letting images of her other form consume her mind.

Fury and pain roared through Bree. Her beast churned within her gut, sharpening her fangs and her claws. A strange, delicious desire tore through her, making her jaws ache with a need she’d tried so hard to throw away.

She wanted blood. No, she needed it. Every fiber of her beastly form craved it in a way that made her mind feel delirious and damned to an eternity full of nothing but suffering.

Suffering that Prince Taveon had demanded she endure.

Another roar split from her throat, and her back arched so that her fists could reach for the sky. Moonlight slashed in through the tiny window overhead, its silvery glow calling to Bree. She wanted to be outside. She wanted to run through the trees. Searching. Hunting. Taking blood straight from the vein.

“Bree.” A soft, melodic voice drifted to her and cut through the fog in her brain.

The beast—and Bree—looked down at the creature below. The male was half her size, though he radiated a kind of power that made him feel ten times taller. A kind of power that the beast ached to consume. Saliva dripped from her fangs and splatted on the stone ground.

“Hear my voice, Bree. The beast is not you, and you are not the beast.”

But he was wrong. The beast was all-consuming. Nothing existed in this body anymore but the wolf who raged for flesh and blood.

“You can control it, Bree,” he said softly, reaching out to place a single hand against her fur.

A shudder went through her, and a soft sigh escaped from her mouth. It was a sound that was strange coming from such a monstrous creature.

“That is it, Bree.” He clutched her fur in his hands, smoothing out the matted edges. He was...petting her.

A soft delicious warmth spread through her, and that strange bloodlust became muted in the back of her mind. Her focus drifted to that hand on her fur. The ache in her jaw eased away, and her claws began to shorten.

“That is it,” Rafe murmured, still stroking her side, even as the monstrous fur gave way to flesh. “You are doing so well.”

Rafe’s arm slid around her back as her human form took hold. He pulled her close and whispered in her ear, keeping her tight against his chest when the sobs shook through her body. She had come so close to losing it. The beast had burned deep within her gut, making her feel things she never wanted to feel.

This was not what Bree wanted to be. She’d tried so hard to escape this monster, and she’d hoped it was gone for good.

But it wasn’t.

“How is your wound?” Rafe asked.

Bree suddenly became all too aware of the fact that his arms were wrapped tight around her and that her face was pressed up against his chest. And that she was very much naked.

Her cheeks flamed, and she swallowed hard, grateful that he couldn’t see the redness in her face.

“It feels fine now,” she said in a small voice.

Should she pull away? Should she try to grab her clothes? Should she look at him?

No, she couldn’t look at him.

“Good,” he said. “Then it is time to get you back to your quarters so you can get some rest.”

His words shot a bolt of clarity through her frazzled thoughts. Here she was, freaking out that Rafe was holding her while she was naked, letting her emotions get the better of her. Again. When he didn’t even react to the fact she had zero clothes on. He probably didn’t even notice. Instead, he was telling her it was time for her to go back to her damn cell.

“Come on.” He stood, but he kept his arms tight around her, helping her to her feet. Her legs were still a bit wobbly underneath her, but Bree had a sneaking suspicion it had nothing to do with her wound and everything to do with the fae who held her close.

Bree wished she could ignore these feelings, but they were like a runaway train that was about to slam right into her.

Rafe was inescapably gorgeous. There was no other word that accurately described this male. Good-looking was a severe understatement. Attractive didn’t cut it either. And handsome was far too standard. Gorgeous, breathtaking, beautiful.

He was beautiful with his silver eyes and that strong jaw that could cut through pure ice.

And he was kind. He’d been nice to her when no one else had. He’d worried about her well-being. Such a simple thing, really, but it meant the world when no other fae in this realm could give a damn if she lived or if she died. He’d gotten her out of that hall to look after her when showing concern for a slave would make him look weak and inconsequential to the rest of the Court.

Her heart charged forward, even as she tried to warn it to stop.

“Bree,” Rafe said, searching her eyes with concern. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said in a tight voice, glancing away.

“Then, let’s get you to bed. Point the way.”

Bree didn’t say another word, instead falling silent as he lifted her from the floor and into his arms. A strange sound exploded from her throat at the shock of it, but she didn’t protest. He slid one arm under her back and another under her legs, and Bree wrapped her hands around his neck, heart raging like a bull.

He kicked open the door and strode into the dungeon hallway. Almost as soon as he’d started walking, he stopped short.

“This cannot be right. Where are your quarters?”

“Around the bend and at the end of the hallway. On the right.”

Rafe’s frown remained, but he continued the short trek down the dimly-lit corridor. When they came to the end of the hallway, Rafe glared into the cell that Bree called home. It held a few books now, a candle, and a bucket of water. She guessed that was all the care that Prince Taveon could rustle up. At least she could have a wash now.

“Taveon is keeping you here?” Rafe asked, his voice tight.

“Yep,” she said with a bitter laugh. “Welcome to my lovely home.”

“This will not do,” he said. “This is not right.”

“Careful, Rafe,” she said, trying to keep the humor in her voice, even if it wasn’t in her heart. “Don’t want anyone hearing you question the Prince.”

He glanced at her then, his eyes softening. “That is the first time you have called me Rafe.”

Heat spread through her cheeks and her neck. “Is that okay? Or is that against some kind of Court rule?”

He shot her a brilliant smile, the one that made his lips look kind of crooked. “Yes, Bree. You can call me Rafe. In fact, I insist upon it.”

Bree grinned back, though her smile faded just as quickly. “Prince Taveon didn’t tell you he was keeping me in the dungeons.”

“No.” His smile vanished, too. “He failed to mention that aspect of your situation. I knew he was keeping you behind locked doors, but I did not know he resorted to keeping you in one of these filthy cells that sees no moonlight and has no access to fresh air.”

“Well, here we are.” Bree spread her arms and let out a bitter laugh. “Home sweet home.”

Rafe gave Bree a funny look. “You humans have a strange definition of sweet if this is what sweet truly is.”

She had to laugh at that. “No, Rafe. I didn’t really mean this is sweet. It was sarcasm. A joke. I called it sweet because it’s the opposite of sweet. Nevermind.”

He was still giving her an odd look, one that made her feel like a specimen in a lab. “I do hate to leave you here like this, Bree, but I do not know where else I can take you.”

“It’s really okay, Rafe.” She shrugged. “It sucks, but I’m getting used to it.”

“You deserve better. So much better.” He reached out and brushed his thumb across her cheek. Bree’s body went taut, and her breath stilled in her lungs. Rafe’s eyes slightly widened, as if he’d only just realized what he’d done. And then he was down the corridor faster than she could blink.

Her feet moved after him, instinctively. He’d left the cell door open. She could follow. Or she could find her way out of here.

But the pain still throbbed in her shoulder, and two guards must have realized what had happened. Because they were outside her cell and locking her inside within moments.

Tonight, she wouldn’t escape, but maybe one day she would.