I walked a little bowlegged and my pink bits ached more than a little—I officially worshipped shower sex—but I was very, very mellow when I climbed from my car. Which Sam, of course, drove. He’d put it back together so he forever claimed the driver’s seat.

Men.

Then again, I didn’t care too much because, man, I felt so good in a well-fucked, thoroughly exhausted way. Still buzzing from a good half-dozen orgasms, decided hunting down Dead Nettle was better than trying to get him on the phone. It was obvious the brownie was avoiding me. If I was standing in front of the smaller man, deadly blades in hand, I couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Sam wanted me to leave the swords at home. were just going to talk to Dead Nettle.

I told him I wanted world peace and getting that was just as likely as me leaving my swords behind.

In the end, I got my way and I ignored Sam’s frowns of disapproval. My swords were a comfortable, heavy weight on my back, the handles within easy reach and my hands itched to palm them. Something was… weird. Some tension in the air pricked at my nerves and my skin hummed with unease.

The house approached was nice enough. Old and partially restored, it resembled a mansion more than simply a large house. It once belonged to Momma R’s great-great-great-cousin four times removed, but the woman wasn’t part of Momma R’s direct line. So, when she died, she died, and ownership then moved on to the next person in line.

Apparently, a long lost something or other recently took possession of not just the home, but my brownies as well.

The urge to murder that person was strong and I clenched my fists. Stealing another person’s brownies! Unheard of.

It wasn’t until Sam’s fingers wrapped around my wrist that I realized I was already reaching for a blade.

“Caith?”

I frowned. “Sorry. Just pissy.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound like he believed me. Well, I didn’t believe me either, so were even. “Let’s just knock before you draw blood. Compromise, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled. I really hated that word. I wondered how hard it’d be for Uncle Luc to simply make it… disappear.

Then it didn’t matter as Sam pounded on the front door, fist colliding with the wood and making it rattle in its frame. It wasn’t like it was gonna be a surprise to the owner to discover she had brownies working for her. They were kinda hard to miss.

When no one answered, he pounded again and I heard the telltale crack that told me he’d knocked a teensy bit too hard.

“Who’s pissy, now?” I murmured and ignored his glare. He could spank me for being snarky later. If I was lucky.

The soft click-clack of high-heels on tile reached us a brief moment before the door swung open on silent hinges. The woman revealed was perfection from head to toe. Hair in a perfect twist, earnings that matched her dazzling necklace, a suit that had to be custom tailored and delicious shoes that had me drooling with envy.

I. Needed. Those. Shoes.

They looked like they might be my size. I could just kill the woman and be done with things. That sounded like a wonderful plan. This time, I consciously reached for a blade and Sam stopped me. Again.

Dammit.

“…speak with him. Now.”

I really needed to pay attention, but it sounded like Sam had things under control. I could go back to drooling.

“And who are you to demand anything?” The chick had that haughty tone thing down pat.

Too bad for her it’d get her killed.

“Can I do it now?” I ignored the fact I whined. This whole compromise thing sucked.

“No, you can’t.” He glared and turned his attention back to the woman—the woman who looked Sam up and down as if he were a steak.

Oh, hell no.

I stepped forward and planted myself between the woman and Sam. Facing off against the bitch, I didn’t hide my true nature. I let the fangs pop out, the fur slide free, the nails grow and curve into claws. And the best part… I was on fire. All of me just flaming red, blue, and white. I had some patriotism going on.

“So,” I gave the woman a wide smile. “He’s not gonna let me send you to my uncle, but he didn’t say I couldn’t burn you to a crisp and then ship you to the hospital.” Real fear filled the woman’s face and my smile widened.

“Wh-who’s your uncle?”

Really? Really. My flaming furriness wasn’t enough for the bitch? She had to ask?

“I call him Uncle Luc, you call him Satan. Now,” I covered my mouth and cleared my throat. The quick exhale sent a tendril of fire shooting toward the woman and Sam growled.

“Caith.”

I turned and gave him the sweetest, most innocent stare I could. “What? I had something caught in my throat.”

I even fluttered my lashes for good measure.

His expression told me he wasn’t buying it. Yeah, I didn’t really expect him to.

I refocused on the woman. “Look, I’m the one who can end you and get away with it, so let’s stop with the posturing and pouting and get to the reason for my visit. I would like to talk to Dead Nettle.”

“I don’t know who you’re talk—”

I shoved my hellfire away with a single thought and rushed the chick, pressing my forearm against her throat while slamming her body against the wall in the entryway. “Lemme rephrase that. You will bring me Dead Nettle.”

The chick gasped and focused on Sam. “Are you going to—”

I pressed harder. No one let me do anything.

“Well, it’s me or her.”

“But you’re— a—” she wheezed.

“Oh,” I growled. “You didn’t know me but you know him?” I bared my wolf’s fangs.

“Everyone—”

I pressed harder, annoyed by the chick’s voice.

“She can’t speak if you choke her,” Sam drawled.

I was not seeing the downside to this.

I stared into the woman’s eyes, allowing mine to flash and flare with hellfire while my wolf inched forward. The bitch might not have known me when she opened the door, but she’d remember me now.

I remained focused on my captive, letting menace gather and swirl around me. It was that intent stare, the minute concentration that allowed me to see.

Swirling brown flashed to green. Only for a moment, a split-second of change, but the chick’s dark brown eyes flared bright green just long enough for me to catch the shift.

And that changed things. That had my suppressed grief and heartache destroying its mental bindings. The pain encircled me, blinded me with the agony and choking me with the anguish.

Without removing my arm, I reached behind me and snared the small blade I’d concealed within the strap that crisscrossed my back. Before Sam could stop me, I whipped it around and slammed the metal into the wall, catching some of the woman’s hair with the stab.

My captive’s attention flicked to the knife, gaze remaining on the blackened metal.

“I forged that myself with my own hands. I held the metal and shaped it with my fingers, allowing my hellfire heat to melt it for me.” I leaned forward and lowered my voice to a whisper. “I will do the same to your poor excuse of a body if you don’t tell me how you did it. I will keep you alive as I slice flesh from bone and create the most beautiful painting you’ve ever seen. You will watch as I bathe in your blood and then I’ll send you to my uncle. Alive.”

The woman’s panicked eyes left mine and focused on Sam.

A Sam who surprised the hell out of me. “Don’t look at me for help. I saw that flicker too and right now I’d happily gut you, but we need information first. So… I’m sure you have a dungeon here. We’ll need it.” Sam looked to me. “At least I assume there’s one.”

“Of course. A place this old…” I pondered old architecture. “Beneath the ballroom.”

I lifted my pressure slightly—still keeping her captive—and the woman sputtered, “We don’t have a ballroom.”

“Oh, you do, you just don’t know it. Come along. Fighting will just make it hurt more.” That had me pausing. “Actually, do me a favor and fight.” Tears filled the woman’s eyes and I rolled mine. “That’s not gonna help your cause.” The chick jerked against my hold and I paused. “Look,” I forced the woman to look at me. “I saw it myself. That little green flicker? You somehow managed to control a few dozen zombies and sent them after me. I could have forgiven that because when I wasn’t close to dying, I enjoyed myself. And you know what? The vamps annoyed me, but I was really pissed because they were trying to kill my mate.” The woman whimpered but remained silent. “What I won’t stand for is going after Georges.” I yanked her closer. “For that, you’re gonna die.”

Another whimper and she shook her head. “I didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear. Zombies? Vamps? I can’t do anything to them even if I’d tried. I’m as good as neutral. I swear.”

Sam sighed which meant I did as well. “I actually believe her.”

I groaned. “Can’t I have this freebie? She has the green-eye thing.”

He shook his head. Bastard.

“No freebies,” Sam reached for the stranger and I released a rolling, rumbling growl that had him freezing in place. “I just need to get a sense of her. The others had this taint clinging to them. I need to…” Sam didn’t touch the woman, which is what saved the chick’s life. Instead, his gently glowing hand hovered above her skin, almost making the sign of the cross as he did whatever angels did. “It coats her, but she’s not the source. I imagine it’s enough to keep her compliant and oblivious.”

That had the chick nodding. Well, nodding as much as she could with my forearm nearly choking her. I wanted the nearly to be totally, but it looked like Sam wasn’t gonna let me. Stupid mate.

“Why keep her compliant?” I murmured and tilted my head, staring at the woman who had the answers, even if I didn’t realize it. “So, tell me, made any new friends lately?”

I knew the answer to that question but wanted to hear the words. I couldn’t believe it, mind shying from the truth, but I knew the reply was inevitable.

“I-I-I—” The chick’s eyes flickered that eerie green once again, dancing between brown and neon in a desperate battle for control.

“C’mon,” I crooned, leaning close. “You can whisper it in my ear. I won’t tell.”

No, I’d only kill.

“I-I-I- He—”

“He…” I coaxed and I was thankful Sam remained a silent, fearsome presence at my side without interfering.

“Dea—” Flicker. Green. Brown. Green. Brown.

I needed to catch the woman when the magic was in the backseat. When… the woman was damn near dead. I kept my grip firm and met Sam’s gaze. “I’m gonna need you to trust me and not interfere.”

Sam’s nod was immediate.

My body slam shook the house, the thump of the woman’s back on the tile vibrating the foundation. She gasped, pain filling her brown eyes, and part of me winced at the agony I caused.

“Who?”

“Dea—” Brown then green.

I kneeled on the woman’s arm, giving the bones more and more of my weight. I didn’t want to snap the chick’s forearm, not really. “Who?”

“Dead—” Brown then green.

“I won’t let anyone kill you. I’ll protect you, but you have to tell me who.” I shoved the words past gritted teeth. My conscience pricked me, poking me with unease, but that didn’t banish the grief that still rode me hard. This bitch knew something and I was gonna have it.

I squeezed the woman’s throat, tightening more and more, watching my captive’s face slide from red to purple as she battled for air. At the same time, I increased my pressure on her arm and reached for a finger. Maybe I’d break a tiny bone.

The wheezing was almost at an end. Any second now she’d lose consciousness and I still needed answers. A pop reached my ears and the woman screamed. Well, wheezed. At least I hadn’t broken the finger, just dislocated it a little bit.

I released the digit and brought my face closer to the dying woman’s. “Who?” The stranger had three seconds left. Maybe five on the outside. “Who?”

“Dead Nettle…” Brown… still brown… And lifeless. Well, lifeless-ish. She’d regain consciousness, now that she could breathe again.

I lifted my weight from the woman’s arm and focused on her hand. It took seconds to pop the finger back into place and even less to heal the hurt I’d caused. That accomplished, I pushed to my feet and faced off against Sam. What would he say? How would he react to my violence? Knowing his mate was Satan’s niece and seeing evidence of my cruelty were two very different things.

“And?” He raised a single brow.

“Dead Nettle.”

He nodded. “Where do we find him?”

I furrowed my brow. “That’s it? Where do we find him? No, what the fuck was that, Caith?’”

Sam shook his head. “No, you asked me to trust you and I do. You didn’t kill her. You actually healed the damage you caused, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“And you’ll probably have Manon stop by to clear her memory. I’d do it now, but we’re hunting.”

“Yeah,” I cleared my throat. “That was my plan.”

Sam reached for me, snagging my hand. “I trust you, Caith. You’re not as evil as you think.”

“I’m very evil.” I glared.

“Uh-huh,” he drawled. “Let’s be evil with Dead Nettle. Where do you think he is?”

“Close.” I let my gaze scan the entryway, hunting for evidence that’d direct me to my prey. I padded to the formal living area, noting the gleaming surfaces and stain-free white carpet.

“Caith?”

I held up a hand, still searching for evidence of the Nettles. I took a step into the room, ignoring the fact that my boots would leave grimy spots behind. I’d have my new brownies pop by to… I dropped my attention to the plush carpet. To the carpet that wasn’t marred in the least by my dirt-caked boots.

“They’re here.” I focused on Sam. “Here.”

“How do you know that?”

I grinned. “The Nettles were with me for a couple hundred years and Dead Nettle got tired of scrubbing blood from the carpets. He eventually found a little spell that causes objects to repel dirt.” I waved my hand at the pristine flooring. “This is his work. He’s here.”

“Okay, but where?”

I closed my eyes, rolling facts through my mind, pulling at my memories of these old houses. “The dungeon is as good a place as any to live and cast spells.”

“She didn’t even know there was a dungeon. What makes you think…” Sam’s voice trailed off and I knew he came to the same conclusion as me.

“The dungeon. They made her forget.” I reached behind me, hand itching for a blade, but Sam held out a hand to stop me.

“What are we gonna do with the woman.”

I groaned. “It’s too much to ask that we just leave her here, huh?”

“Yes.” He narrowed his eyes.

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Drag her into the living room. I’ll seal her in. No one in or out until we’re done.”

“And how are you gonna do that? Last I knew you handled fire, not magic, and brownies—”

“Brownies have doors all over the house and all houses have locks and knobs on those doors, don’t they? Brownies can’t go past a locked door. It’s a… thing. Even more, this house is connected, however distantly, to Momma R.” I jerked my head toward the woman. “Grab her and drag her over here.” Sam did as asked and I stepped into the center of the space. “Momma R would’ve made the doors metal, just like the locks.” I grinned at Sam. “The family employed loyal brownies, but there was a bit of pixie in ’em. When the Renards wanted quiet, they wanted quiet, and metal holds a spell better than wood.”

I padded around the room, plush carpet not giving way beneath me. Dead Nettle put a lot into keeping this place clean. Probably so he could keep the owner happy without rousing suspicion.

You didn’t want to get kicked out of this place, did you Nettle? Why?

“Lay her on the couch and then close the door. When you’re done, make sure you stand next to her. Don’t leave her side. I can keep one spot cool, not two.”

“Did you even think of having me stand outside?”

My snarling objection was fast and fierce. “Mine.”

Sam’s smile was blinding. “Noted.”

Bastard.

“Shaddup and stand still,” I growled and then focused, reached into myself. Hellfire was quick to respond and jump to my fingertips, aching to be of some use. Its rage roiled and boiled inside me, that part of me knowing Dead Nettle was responsible for Georges. The fire didn’t understand my preoccupation with the gator, but it did understand my unending rage.

It slid over my skin, caressing me with the warm blanket of flames. It continued to rise and consume me, twining around me like vines on a tree and I welcomed each addition, each rising degree.

It stretched, aching for things to destroy, to find an outlet for my rage and hate. It hunted for flammable items, for things that could be turned to ash and bent beneath its power.

It licked at Sam and the woman, but I called it back with a soft murmur. “Not them.”

Closing my eyes, I let the flames continue to wander, sliding through the living room and it flicked from surface to surface. I allowed it to collide with the easy stuff, pillows and upholstery, but I gently eased toward the tougher materials.

“Metal, sweet flame. Find the metal…” I murmured low and then it vibrated with happiness, the flames dancing and trembling in air. “Seal it.”

It joyfully went to work, bending and melting and converting hinged panels into large, thick sheets. By the time I was done, I’d sealed three doors and four air vents as well as a peephole hidden behind a painting.

The heat swirled around my, brushing my hair, kissing my skin, and fluttering my clothing. It wanted to stay, wanted to hunt with me, but I needed my prey to speak before I turned her to ash.

Mainly, I wanted to know how Dead Nettle managed it all.

The hellfire pouted, whining with a rapid whip, but I wasn’t going to relent.

“Go back to Uncle Luc or I’ll ground you for a month.” I kept my voice low.

The hellfire had one snippet of retaliation before it vanished. The bastard flicked my ass, sending a burning spear of agony up my spine and I gritted my teeth against the pain.

The second cool air wafted over my skin, I sighed in relief and took a stumbling step forward. Sam’s hands were there, strong arms keeping me upright when I would have fallen.

“You okay?” Concern laced his tone and I clung to him as I fought for breath.

I dragged air into my lungs. “Yeah, it was being a little bitch, but I’m good.”

“Caith, should we call someone else…”

I snorted. There wasn’t anyone in town to call. It was Orlando tween business. If it happened near the mouse’s house, I had to deal with it. Not anyone else. Besides, the brownie would bleed for Georges.

“No, I’m fine.” I pushed away from Sam and reached for my swords, intent on my destination. “C’mon.”

Sam immediately released me and stepped back, following in my wake. At least for now. I knew when blood started flying he’d be in the thick of things and protecting my back. I approached the double doors and growled at the hellfire still lurking inside my body.

“You sealed us in here.” Sam’s patronizing drawl hit me and I didn’t bother to answer him.

I approached the double doors that the led to the entryway and without slowing, I lifted my leg and planted my boot over the handle. I kicked hard, sending the panels flinging open so they could return to where we’d started.

“If it’s that easy to leave the room maybe this isn’t the best place for the…” His words trailed off when I turned to face him.

Fire filled my veins, turning me into molten flesh, and my eyes were filled with the flicker flames. The heat wasn’t too keen on being called easy. “Oh, it wasn’t easy.” I gestured for him to leave the living room. “Now, c’mon.”

It definitely wasn’t. No one else would get through a hellfire sealed door but me and Uncle Luc. Not even Mom could break the seal since she was too concerned with enjoying her demonic life rather than destroying everyone who threatened that happiness.

When the panels ricocheted toward me, I nudged first one door and then the other closed. Rubbing my fingers together, I brought a wavering spark to the tips and then let them flick my lips as I whispered to them. “No one enters. No one leaves.”

I flung those sparks at the closed doors and knew my order would be followed. The handles glowed red before settling into a deep, charred black and my name was engraved on the panels. Whoever drew near would know who they were dealing with. And if they were smart, they’d run.

“C’mon, Dead Nettle knows we’re here. He’s waiting and I don’t want to be rude.” The blades sang as they slid free of their scabbards.

Sam’s did the same, the angel of destruction taking up arms against a tweener. I knew what mating me cost him. I wondered how much more he’d lose by helping me.

Too much, Caith. You know that, dumbass.

Save for the tick-tock of an ageless clock, the house was silent, and we didn’t destroy that quiet with our presence. I carefully padded through the house, my boots silent on the tile. My swords were ready, already craving the blood of my enemies.

I bypassed the stairs and headed toward the left, ignoring door after door as made our way down the narrow corridor. Sam followed, movements just as quiet. He didn’t question my direction which was a good thing since I’d hate to bludgeon my mate during our first official battle.

Eventually came abreast of a single, ornately carved door. I knew what lay on the other side, what we’d face once I kicked it in and gave ourselves access to the ballroom. Just on the other side of the decorated panel was the catalyst for my rage and I’d do everything I could to end the life of each and every being that helped Dead Nettle.

Compassion was not on the day’s menu.

I shared a look with Sam, one that said I was about to bust open the gates of Hell. I wasn’t being symbolic or anything either. Once that door vanished, my hellfire, my wolf’s rage, my soul’s fury… I was rocking out with my fur out and nothing would stop me.

My mate jerked his head in a quick nod.

Okay then.

I didn’t hesitate any longer. I slammed a boot heel into the lock and the door flew open so hard the chunk of wood spiraled into the room, sliding across the floor to be stopped by…

The heavy boot of a dark elf.

“Aw, fuck me,” I groaned.

The elf in question smiled widely, exposing his pointed teeth with their white tips and midnight base. The male was as I remembered—tall and muscular with angled cheekbones and a strong jaw. His skin was still smooth as cream, pale and gleaming in the light. His midnight clothes, leather, encased his large body.

Not just a dark elf. The dark elf. And the label didn’t come from the color of his clothes. No, it slid like a wisp of smoke from his soul.

An elf that’d made a deal with the devil and had his ass spat back out by Uncle Luc.

“Caith,” he smiled wider. “Interesting to see you here. Anxious to revisit our relationship?”

Sam growled and I echoed the sound. How had I ever found this asshole attractive? Oh. Right. I’d been barely a hundred when I’d come across Glaener.

“Nice to see you, Glaen. How long’s it been?” I tightened my grip on the sword.

“Too long, sweet wolf. Miss me?” That smile turned sensual.

“No.” I let my gaze wander over the room, taking in the immaculate condition of the flooring and decorations. Another dozen dark elves littered the space, their glittering, delicious looks doing nothing to hide the evil in their souls. “It seems Nettle has been keeping up appearances at least. It looks lovely.” My attention finally returned to their band’s leader. “So, why are you here, Glaen? Muscle? Because I sure as hell know it’s not brains.” Another elf snorted and Glaen shot the male a glare but didn’t verbally respond. “Nothing to say?” I shrugged. “That’s okay. I know you’re the muscle. Even when we were together you didn’t have this kind of dedication, this kind of foresight. You’re very hack and slash,” I smirked. “Might be why you enjoy video games so much. Fairly mindless while this… was delicate in its own way.”

There wasn’t a single flutter of fabric, no rustle to tell me whether my quarry listened.

Glaen silently glared.

“So, we’ve established you’re the protector for this band of fuckholes. The question becomes, will you die for them?” I lowered the tip of one sword to the marble tile and dragged it across the surface, the point leaving a deep furrow in its wake.

I kept my metal honed to a razor’s edge and nothing was stronger than a weapon formed by my own hands from the fires of Hell. I may get my ass knocked down, but the moment the blade struck flesh, my opponent was gone. It sang when blood stroked its length and the sword practically vibrated in anticipation.

“I think you’re overestimating your abilities, sweet wolf.” Glaen pushed away from the wall, taking a step toward me.

As he moved nearer, Sam took up a spot at my side, his large arms crossed over his chest. A dark shimmer rippled in the air around him, throwing off glimmers of dark light, and the elf paused and focused on Sam.

“Oh, I know your pussy is good, Caith, but I don’t think it’s worth falling for.” Glaen smirked. “Do you enjoy the way she whimpers? Her wolf likes that little spot just beneath—”

Sam didn’t tense further or even twitch in displeasure at hearing of my past. No, the asshole smiled. What was up with that? He should at least be jealous. Lips spread to reveal pure white teeth, the gel took a step toward Glaen, a swagger in his movements.

Cocky.

Sure of himself.

Arrogant.

“That area just beneath her left breast? A nice little mark that begs for a kiss?” Sam chuckled and I began counting the number of ways I could kick my mate’s ass.

One, cut off his left ball.

Two, cut off his right ball.

Glaen chuckled. “That’s the one. Maybe she is worth falling for. The way she mewls—”

Glaen didn’t have a chance to say much more. Sam was a blur of deadly movement. He dove through the air, slicing into the distance between him and Glaen. The gel didn’t just attack the dark elf, he destroyed him. A single strike sent the male slamming into the wall and cracking the drywall, sending a shower of white dancing through the air. From there, Sam’s bulk blocked his actions from my view, but the screams… Well, the screams made me smile. And then the seductive scent of elven blood reached my nose and my wolf practically purred.

It remembered those flavors. It remembered the male who’d first shared them with her. It also remembered how badly I wanted to rip off his balls with my teeth when he’d dumped me.

I had a bit of an anger management issue.

The remaining elves jumped into motion, the group heading toward Sam with deadly intent in their gazes. No way that was gonna happen. I still had a use for the gel.

I tumbled through the air, launching myself upward and flipping over the approaching males. The flip had me landing in a crouch at Sam’s back, my sword singing and begging to be coated in blood. Elf blood.

I managed to take out two as my feet met marble, boots thumping on the stone floor, my wicked blade severing heads. Those large bodies collapsed, skulls rolling and tripping up two others as tried to avoid stomping on them. Huh. Dark elves with a conscience. Weird.

A girly scream sounded behind me, telling me Sam was causing a bit of pain of his own. Well, the guy could get things done and help me already. My annoyance, of course, distracted me and allowed one of the males to land a punch to my side. I grunted with the impact and then made a horizontal slice through the air. It laid open his chest, splitting ribs, pouring his heart and lungs onto the once pale surface.

“You shouldn’t hit girls, asshole.”

A glitter of silver caught my eye and I reacted without thought, raising my left sword to block another attack. I returned it with my right, sinking the metal deep into his gut. He fell to his knees, fingers reaching for the shining blade. “You shouldn’t touch—” No one listened when I said they were sharp. He wrapped his hand around the thin metal and… lost his fingers in the process. “That one’s gonna hurt tomorrow.”

I placed my boot on his shoulder and kicked, sending him sliding off my weapon, leaving me free to tackle others. And tackle them, I did. Block, thrust, parry even though parry sounded so damned lame, followed by the occasional kick or two. What good was having kick-ass boots if I didn’t use them?

Now, if only Fluevog made custom soles and I could have “Caith kicked my ass” emblazoned for all to see. That would be awesome.

I didn’t have time to worry about branding my name on anyone’s ass because the elves decided one-on-one wasn’t getting the job done. They all rushed forward, sharpened teeth bared and the fires of Hell burning in their eyes. What was so pretty only moments ago now reeked with the evil that permeated my uncle’s home.

The man had yet to hear of scented candles.

I focused on the battle, on Sam’s presence as he made Glaen whimper and whine. My vision became filled with whipping blood, flashing swords and glimmering knives. Bits and pieces of my opponents tumbled to the ground, my movements smooth and sure as I cut them into tiny bits.

My mind was feverish as I counted the number of disabled and dead dark elves. Was that ten? Or eleven? Dammit, I couldn’t remember. It was just like when I used guns. I never remembered to count the rounds as I shot them off and then being out of bullets was such a surprise…

I didn’t know I was in trouble until the high-pitched whistle of a sword slicing through air pierced my ears. I jerked my head right in enough time to see the end of my life coming near. The largest of the elves, the one I assumed would be slow and dull-witted, was heartbeats from ending my life.

But then Sam was there, hacking at my opponent with his pristine white sword that sparked violet when touched by an evil weapon. The blade now glowed a deep purple with the evil that coated the surface. He battled the last of the dark elves, body moving with fluid grace, and his sword an extension of his arm. Sam’s opponent didn’t have a chance, not against the Angel of Destruction. He should probably lead with his title when went into battle.

I’m Caith and this is the Angel of Destruction. Please place your weapons carefully on the ground…

It seemed like no time passed before Sam was victorious, severing the elf’s head with a single swipe and the massive male collapsed. I paused to look at our destruction. Blood coated every surface. What was once white now glowed an eerie red. Uncle Luc would be recalling his elves at any moment. At least he’d take care of the bodies and once I got the brownies under control, they’d handle the hard scrubbing. I looked down at my clothing. Maybe laundry too. A quick peek at Sam revealed he was just as stained. Okay, laundry for two.

Panting, Sam turned toward me and our gazes locked. The pale blue I enjoyed so much now flared red, proof of On High’s continued disapproval. Which, really, seemed dumb. The gel just took out a whole dozen of Uncle Luc’s minions. That had to count for something.

His lips kicked up in a half smile and he shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“What way?” I furrowed my brow.

“I can practically read your thoughts, and things with On High are… complicated. Killing, in general, is frowned upon no matter the target.”

“But—” A low groan to my right had me spinning and raising my swords, ready to chop up something else. And I found… a very sliced and diced Glaen.

I tilted my head, staring at my ex-lover. One eye was missing and part of a lip and, I bent down, and his tongue, too. “Yeah, I can see how On High would think you’d gone a little murder-ery versus do-gooder protective here.” I glanced at Sam. “Good work, though.” I crouched and leaned forward. “Did you take the whole tongue or just a little?”

“Morbid much, Caith?” Sam chuckled.

“If I give Momma R a dark elf’s tongue for the annual holiday that is not Christmas, I am set for the next hundred years. Plus, this would be fresh.” So, yeah, the answer to Sam’s question would be yes.

“If he’s still here when we’re done, you can take all of the bits and pieces you’d like.” Sam’s words caught my attention.

“I assume you got information from him, then?”

“I didn’t cut him to pieces for the fun of it,” he drawled.

I shrugged. “I would have. He wasn’t very nice when he dumped me.” If there was dirt nearby, I would have kicked it on him. “Why isn’t he moving?”

And would he stay still long enough for me to find dirt, get a priest to bless it and then grind it into his wounds.

I was not one of those “good” ex-girlfriends. If cars had existed all those years ago, I would have carved his like a pumpkin.

“Is he dead? Why didn’t you kill him?”

Yes, I was officially a very bad ex-girlfriend.

“A promise from On High to Hell.” Sam’s murmured words were hardly more than a whisper.

“What—”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Dead Nettle’s entrance to the dungeon is here.”

Sam spun on his heel and headed toward the center of the room. He brushed his hand over the center of the massive mosaic that decorated the floor and two rows separated to expose a stairway below.

I peered into the darkness. “Smart.”

Who would think to look for a dungeon’s entrance in the middle of a sparkling ballroom? Off in a hidden corner, sure. But dead center? Nope.

“What else did you get off Glaener?” I sought to see through the blackness.

“These guys were it in terms of protection though he thinks there might be a few more annoying brownie-based spells drifting around down there.” His voice was low. “Otherwise, it’s clear between us and Dead Nettle.”

“What about the other brownies?” I whispered in return.

I wasn’t sure why we’d adopted quiet after the cacophony of our battle, but I followed Sam’s lead.

“He doesn’t think there are any.”