I wore all of my weapons—showing and hidden—as I stepped outside the empty bedchamber and took my time to make sure the door was locked properly. I wiggled the door handle twice, double-checking that it wouldn’t budge. The solid wooden door didn’t even jiggle in its frame, perfectly fitted.

Eeeeee-eee.

I jerked in place and slowly turned my head to the side. I peered behind me, carefully searching for the violence of that high-pitched scream. The only thing in view was a table with a vase of blooming lilies perched on top of it. There were no hearts beating close by.

Eeeeee-eee.

I flinched and swung around with my right hand on the handle of my knife that was holstered against my right thigh. I demanded, “Who’s there?”

Were they blocking my hearing?

Was it possible a druid could hide their heartbeat?

No answer came. Time ticked by in the silence.

With more firmness, I ordered, “Show yourself!”

A thumping started.

Bang, bang, bang.

My eyes lowered to the table before me—to what might lay hidden behind the cabinet doors on it. I stared for a long time, not moving. The thumps only increased in harshness, shaking the frame of the stand. I muttered under my breath, “What the ever-lovin’ fuck is that?” And did I really want to open those two innocent, tiny doors to find out?

I was thinking it was a definite ‘no.’

One of the doors broke open. Choice gone.

I took a step back and lifted my blade from its sheath, ready for anything. It was either another parlor trick, or it was something truly nasty.

A porcelain female face peeked out from behind the remaining closed door. Old-fashioned glass eyes blinked, her plastic lashes fluttering. Half her face drooped from a thick crack down the center of her face, her head only held together by the back of a solid skull. Dirt and grime and green crayon smeared the rest of her face. And her filthy brown hair was missing large chunks at the scalp here or there all over her head, showing the tiny black holes where the locks used to be fitted inside the porcelain.

I didn’t lower my knife.

She blinked again, and her mouth opened.

Eeeeee-eee.

I flinched at the god-awful screech.

The foot-tall demonized doll squeezed out of her hiding spot, jumping on two stiff legs to the ground in front of me. The dolly swayed back and forth. She wore a dark maroon dress that appeared to be in the 1950’s style of a homemaker, and her dirt crusted feet were bare. Her black, glass eyes simply stared up at me from her cracked face while she occasionally blinked with her plastic lashes.

Another damn way to spy.

I glared. “You are not coming with me.”

Eeeeee-eee.

I flinched again and wanted to cover my ears.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ, stop doing that!” I shoved my knife back into its sheath and pointed a sharp finger at that hellish face. “Master Niallan, this is completely unacceptable—and creepy as hell. Stop the parlor tricks.”

The broken toy didn’t move. It stared.

A shiver worked up my spine. “You are one twisted motherfucker.” I ground my teeth together. “This shit is done.”

I lunged at the doll. My left shoulder rammed into the table and the vase tipped over, crashing to the floor in a shatter of glass. I twisted to keep from landing on my face, but my hands were empty. Fucking hell!

With vampire speed, I pulled my gun out and fired off two quick shots in rapid succession. Right and left. I followed the doll’s blurring movements and fired off two more rounds.

My finger hovered over the trigger.

The hellish doll squatted right in front of me.

I blinked in confusion. “What are you doing?”

A thin stream of water splattered the tile underneath her. Her black eyes blinked and watched me.

Eeeeee-eee.

“Oh my god. You’re one of those potty dolls.” My face crinkled in horror. “Is that really piss?”

She straightened.

Yellow pee pooled around her feet.

“Master Niallan, this is a new low.” I aimed point blank at the doll. “Say good-bye, asshole.”

I wasted an entire clip on it. An entire clip.

I lowered my weapon and bared my fangs. The bitch was powered by Master Niallan’s power—including his vampire power which was much older than mine.

And it was even worse than that.

I’d been bested by a children’s toy.

I swiftly glanced down the empty hallway, looking both ways, and hurried to put my weapon away.

I was never going to tell anyone about this.

I side-stepped the shattered vase and spilled white flowers, and my feet moved at a fast charge away from the scene of the “crime.” The demented doll followed after me on stiff legs, teetering back and forth like she had a large stick up her ass. I hissed over my shoulder, “Master Niallan, if you make her piss on my boots, I will piss on your favorite shoes. Don’t mess with my footwear.”

Eeeeee-eee.

My shoulders hunched. I tugged at my ringing right ear and then my other smarting ear. I growled, “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

Eeeeee-eee.

I gritted my teeth.

Perhaps it was best to ignore it.

I traveled down multiple hallways, attempting to keep in sight of the druids walking by—from servants to guards to the upper-class. They rubbernecked all around—that was for damn sure—but I was making myself known to them. I wanted their eyes on me. I wanted witnesses in case Devin or Ysander tried underhanded tactics to take me out.

All while I opened all my senses.

I searched for power.

It led me to a courtyard in the center of the castle, all four golden surrounding walls towering and rising high into the sky, shielding the open outdoor area from the outside village.

Guards filled the private space. Their feet trampled over the dead winter grass while their swords clashed against the swords of the others. White, glowing druid power sizzled over the steel blades and glistened under the sun, creating white sparkling tracers in the air with their efficient strikes. The guards weren’t in full battle gear, simply dressed in golden practice attire.

And there was a shit ton of them.

All with weapons.

Cracked-and-Nosy waddled up beside me.

She squatted and took another piss.

While staring up at me.

Hint received. This was not a safe place for me.

But fuck. I turned my attention back to the druids.

This was where the most power was.

My brows puckered. I backed away slowly.

I ducked back into the castle and took a survey of my surroundings while I continued to think this through.

I hadn’t been able to feel any power from the Original vampire amulet. It was quite possible I wouldn’t be able to feel the Original druid amulet either. If that were true, I was searching this way blindly. I needed to think of a different angle, one more personal in nature. I needed to delve deeper into Master Niallan’s psyche.

Shit.

I might actually fail at this. I may be of no help.

Because the man truly confused me at times.

I started walking again and kept to the main hallways. I turned my thoughts around and around in my head while I strolled and evaluated everything in view. And I mean everything. I kept track of the flowers. I counted the women working here. I stopped and examined every piece of art. I looked for patterns in the tiling or in the carved white ceilings full of angels. I paused at every window to look at the view. I listened for which hallways were quieter than others, compared to how worn the tiles were under my feet. I even studied the designs and colors of the drapes hanging from the open windows.

In the end, as the sun started to set, I slammed my bedchamber’s door on Cracked-and-Nosy’s face and moved to stand in front of the lone portrait inside the room. Master Niallan’s mother blinked down on me. This painting was truly exquisite if you studied the care with which each brush stroke covered the canvas. I lifted my eyes to hers, and asked calmly, “You loved her very much, didn’t you, Master Niallan?”

The lilies gave it away.

There were fucking lilies everywhere all over this castle, including in the painting behind his mother.

She blinked rapidly.

I sighed and started removing my weapons. I placed each one on the desk with care, watching my hands work. “I don’t know the whole story, but I am sorry you lost someone you cared that deeply for.” His mother may have been a criminal or a peasant, but to Master Niallan, it didn’t matter. She had been his mother. I cracked my neck and peered up with tired eyes, exhausted from my long day, and the fact I hadn’t found what I was truly searching for—not even a hint of it. I asked, “Did you pass your first Challenge?”

His mother blinked swiftly.

I high-fived the air in front of her portrait with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “Way to go. Make sure you get rest tonight. They won’t go easy on you. You know that.”

Her lavender eyes lifted over my head. Stared.

I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. “Yes, I heard them come in a few seconds ago.” I waved my fingers through the air and still stared up into her eyes. The Overlords stayed mute, had been silent since they’d slipped into the room, while zips unleashed and shirts dropped to the ground behind me. “By the way, I’m beat. Have your people send food to our room. We’ll eat in here tonight.”

Her eyes didn’t blink.

I rolled my own eyes. “I’m serious. I’m tired.” I waggled a finger at the painting. “Do not start right now. Or I will steal every tub of ice cream I can find and chuck it out the window out of spite. Every meal should not be an issue like this. The lords said they didn’t treat you this way. You shouldn’t treat us like this.”

Finally, she blinked fast.

“Thank you.” I turned around and walked to my own bag. I waved a hand over my shoulder. “Good night, asshole.”

I stared down at my bag and placed my hands on my hips. I yawned wide, and grumbled, “How much of a fucking lunatic did I look like when you gentlemen first came in?”

Lord Belshazzar grunted next to me while he changed into a short-sleeved cotton shirt and loose fitting gray pajama pants—and refrained from commenting.

Lord Pippin chuckled under his breath. “If you had been anywhere else, you would have been dethroned.”

“That’s what I thought,” I replied. I bent at the waist and unzipped my bags. I grabbed a clean set of pajamas and tromped to the bathroom with the soft material in my hands. I halted right before I entered, asking over my shoulder, “Did any of you receive…a little present…when you left the room earlier?”

“Go open the front door.” Lord Otto snorted. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

Lord Cato asked casually, “Before you do that, your majesty, is there a reason why there are bullet holes all along our hallway now?”

I lifted a stopping hand in his direction. “Don’t go there.” I hurried and changed in the bathroom, and then I quickly went to the front door and threw it open—morbid curiosity getting the better of me.

My lips twitched.

I held the door open with my left hand and pointed with my right to the rubber snake that lifted his head off the ground. “That one is for Lord Cato.”

Lord Otto walked to stand beside me and crossed his arms. His eyes peered at where I was pointing. “Correct.”

I skipped over Cracked-and-Nosy to the next one. I snapped my finger at it with my brows scrunched. “It looks like one of those super popular male dolls that are always perfect.” Except this one had a cigarette burn hole through the side of his blond head, and its left leg was missing. Its right hand was also twisted at an unnatural angle—and his body was naked. I would have said Lord Otto, but the male-doll hovered over mine. “That one’s Lord Belshazzar’s.”

Lord Otto chuckled softly. “Correct.”

I pointed at the brand new brown teddy bear, a price tag still hanging from his rounded right ear. “That one’s Lord Xenon’s.”

“Yep.” The lord leaned against the doorframe and smirked. “Two more to go. You have a fifty-fifty shot.”

I cast my gaze back and forth between the gnawed-on blue helicopter and the squished yellow rubber ducky. I turned to the Overlord and grinned. “You’re the helicopter, and Lord Pippin is the duck.”

He nodded his head. “Nicely done, your majesty.”

“How the hell does the ducky even move?”

The lord shuddered. “It rolls and it squeaks this heinous sound. All the time. Between Lord Pippin’s feet. Around his feet. I stopped counting how many times he tripped and almost landed on his face.”

I shut the door and locked it. “Mine pisses and screams. You can’t beat that.”

Lord Otto pointed at his hair—his extremely screwed up blond hair. “Helicopter. That’s all I should have to say.”

I snickered and held my hands up in the air. I backed away from him and his ire before dropping my hands. “You’re right, my lord. You win.”

“Fuck yes, I do. I lost hair, dammit!”

A gentle hand wrapped around my wrist and stopped my backward movement. I looked down at the man sitting comfortably in a chair with his bare feet kicked up on a footstool. Ice blue eyes stared up into my gaze. I lifted a black brow, asking tersely, “Yes, my lord?”

Lord Belshazzar mirrored me, lifting a black eyebrow, and then tugged me down onto his lap. I landed in a graceless heap on top of him. The Overlord’s chin trembled at my shocked features, but he didn’t make fun of my inelegance. He silently helped me resituate myself on his lap, though he couldn’t have missed my rigid frame. The lord even yanked a soft and thin blanket off the chair next to ours—before Lord Xenon sat on that seat—and tossed it over my body, draping it over my legs.

The lord’s eyes darted back and forth over my narrowed gaze—I was still upset with him. He tucked a piece of air behind my ear and played with my earlobe. Quietly, he asked, “How was your day?”

“I walked around the entire time.” I huffed and squinted down my nose at him. My voice was clipped. “Master Niallan’s castle is as large as ours. There’s a lot to look at.”

Lord Belshazzar hummed and stared at my ear that he continued to rub softly. “Have any trouble?”

“Other than the doll from hell? No.”

His eyes flicked to mine, then back to his playing. “How many bullets did you waste on the toy?”

My lips pinched. I wasn’t saying.

The Overlord smirked—just a little. He never took his eyes off me, his attention now wandering over my features. His tone was still quiet. “Lord Pippin emptied both of his guns before he wised up.”

“Fuck off.” Lord Pippin sighed and dropped into a reclining chair across from us. “I almost had it once.”

I rolled my eyes. That was a lie.

I hadn’t even come close to shooting my doll.

And I was almost positive I was faster than him.

Lord Belshazzar ran the pad of his right pointer finger over the curve of my eyebrow, watching the action with a hooded gaze. “Do you want to ask me anything about my day?”

I sniffed. “Not particularly.”

The Overlord sighed and pressed his forehead against mine—and left it there. His thick, dangling hair hid us from everyone else. He rubbed the tip of his nose against mine in private affection, and our blue eyes didn’t stray elsewhere, holding each other’s gazes.

He whispered softly, “How long do you typically stay mad at someone?”

Lord Pippin choked but swiftly quieted.

I ignored that lord. My attention was captured by my favorite one. I wrinkled my nose, and muttered, “There’s no time limit. Not really.”

Lord Belshazzar touched the tip of his nose against mine again. His blue eyes fell, casting his expression in a rare moment of uncertainty. On the barest breath, he breathed, “I don’t like it.”

My entire body melted against his, just like that. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cuddled closer to him, practically purring when he pulled the blanket up higher over my body to cover my shoulders too. I curled my feet around his legs and rested them on the edge of his chair.

With our foreheads still pressed together, I managed to capture his fallen gaze with mine. I whispered too quietly for anyone else to hear, “You were quite the beast earlier.”

His lashes lowered over his eyes and shuttered his gaze from me. The Overlord waited for me to carry on, not contradicting my statement.

Still too quietly for anyone else to hear, I murmured, “Why don’t you kiss me? I’ll accept that as your apology—this time.”

The lord blinked. Then his lips were on mine.

Lord Belshazzar pressed my head back, leaning over me, and he kissed me—fast. Our heartbeats linked and pounded like crazy inside our chests. His mouth caressed and coerced and petted until I opened for his onslaught of want—his request for forgiveness. The lord’s minty scent surrounded me, and his tongue dipped inside my mouth, teasing and curling against mine again and again.

Lord Belshazzar showed me how sorry he was, even if he didn’t speak the words, as he made gentle and powerful love to my mouth. He ran his hands up my neck and curled his fingers into my hair at the base of my head, holding me steady as he tipped his head for a better angle. His muscles bulged in his arms around me, not letting me go.

He embraced me like I was precious to him.

He kissed me like it was the last kiss he’d ever have.

He protected me in his arms like I was his world.

A soft moan escaped my lips.

This man was delicious. Fucking perfect.

I tightened my arms and held him closer.

His deep and soft groan curled my toes.

The Overlord possessed me at that moment.

I was his. He was mine.

We were at peace. In our own realm of rightness.

Lord Belshazzar tapered his caresses off in slow increments. He kissed the tip of my nose and pressed his forehead against mine again, his thick hair continuing to shade us in a dark cloud. Our lungs pumped just as hard as our one heartbeat and our breaths puffed against each other’s damp lips. His blink was languid and sexually satisfied as he stared into my eyes.

He whispered, “Forgiven?”

I nodded, rubbing my forehead against his.

The Overlord kept his arms around me, just holding my gaze until he eventually rested us more comfortably against the back of his chair. Our faces separated as I ducked my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I wiggled even closer against him, burrowing against his warmth. I couldn’t see his expression, but suddenly, he barked, “I swear to the sun and the stars and my blood, if you jackasses don’t find someplace else to park your intrusive interloping, I will ruin you.” Not even a second later, he grumbled, “About fucking time.”

I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to deal with the other Overlords and hummed in approval when Lord Belshazzar fixed the blanket around me that had slipped down off my shoulder with sharp jerks of his hands—very irritated at having the other lords around to witness anything personal between us.

“I’d like for the record to show that I did not—in any way, shape, or form—watch that display,” Lord Cato sputtered from far off to the side. It sounded like he was hiding underneath his blanket on his bed, his voice muffled. “Sex doesn’t bother me in the slightest…but that fucking did. Try not to do that around me again. Please.”

My lips trembled. “Forgot about him.”

“Obviously,” my father hissed.

“How about this then, Lord Cato? The next time you want to have sex at a Blood Rite, you don’t do it where I can walk by at any time.” I paused, listening to his instant groan. “Yes? I thought you might agree.”

Lord Belshazzar’s chest abruptly shook against me as he chuckled quietly. He tilted his face toward mine, his growing black whiskers tickling my forehead. The Overlord kissed the top of my head, mumbling against my hair, “Do you want to go to bed now or wait for dinner to arrive?”

I yawned and snuggled against him, tightening my arms around his neck. “I don’t care. Whatever you want. As long as you think he’ll actually feed us in the morning.”

“He will. I spoke with him about it.” He kissed the top of my head again. “The prick won’t starve us.”

The Overlord held me more snugly and stood to his feet, supporting me against his muscular body. I didn’t even move or open my eyes. My feet and blanket dangled over his arm while he walked to our bed. He laid me down gently and crawled in next to me.

Lord Belshazzar piled the blankets around us. “Try to sleep on your side of the bed tonight.”

I snorted. “Not going to happen.”

I rolled and plastered myself against him.

He held still for a long moment, and then pulled one of my legs over his. His warm palm gripped my thigh in a pleasant show of possessiveness. “Good night, Gwen.”

“Night, Bel.” I grinned.