My gaze cast around the room again. Kit and Austin still hadn’t returned from the bathrooms, and they’d been gone an uncomfortably long time so far. Not for the first time, I wished I’d let her heal my arm. Maybe then I would have that emotional link with her and I would know if she was in trouble or not.

“Wesley, I need you to check on Kit and Austin,” I murmured quietly as I pretended to gather up empty champagne flutes from a table. “They left for the bathroom ages ago and haven’t come back.”

Impatiently, I tapped my finger against an empty flute while I waited for Wesley’s response. None came.

“Wes?” I tried again, but still no response came.

Turning to face the corner, I surreptitiously pulled the receiver from my ear to check the little white LED marker that would indicate it was working. Dead. How the fuck had that happened?

Some minutes ago, I’d seen Cole head out in the direction Kit and Austin had gone, so I could only hope he was checking on them. Caleb was nowhere to be seen, nor was Vali. The absence of any of my team, including my comms backup, was giving me a seriously uneasy feeling in my gut.

The dark, caged beast inside my mind reared up, thrashing and testing its mental bonds, but I wasn’t stupid. I had that shit locked down tight. Tighter than I had ever needed to previously because I knew without a doubt that Kit’s magic would set it free. And then God fucking help us all.

Leaving the main ballroom, I slipped my phone from my pocket and dialed Wesley. It was pointless trying the rest of my team as we didn’t carry phones on missions. Not even me, usually. But for some reason, today I had grabbed it.

“River, hey,” Wesley answered. “What’s going on down there? I’ve lost comms with everyone.”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” I pondered, scratching at the short stubble on my chin. I never could go fully fresh-faced; it made me look too damn young. “Something’s giving me a seriously bad feeling, Wes.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. “I’m still new to this whole bond thing, but I’m pretty sure Kit used her magic to heal someone not long ago, too.”

“Shit,” I swore. “Okay, I’m going to find them. Call back if you manage to get the comms back up.”

Panic clawed at my gut, and I clamped down hard on it. This was no place for emotions that only served to cloud my judgement. If Kit was in trouble—which, if I knew my Kitten, she would be—then I needed all my wits about me. Unlike the rest of my team, I was now the only human left. Thank fuck for small mercies, though; my arm was healed, so I wasn’t totally useless.

The past weeks had been such a rush of planning for this mission that Kit and I had barely managed to steal more than a few moments alone together. Certainly no time to discuss that fucking word that had slipped from my mouth while we were in the shower.

Love.

What the hell had I been bloody thinking? Not that I wasn’t—falling in love with her, that is—but I simply should have known better than to tell her so soon.

Gritting my teeth against my own self-flagellation, I made my way back into the main ballroom just as the distinctive red of Kit’s gown caught my eye across the room. She was coming down a corridor looking wrecked, and I knew instantly that she’d just healed someone. Fuck.

The overwhelming worry for her that flooded through me blinded me to my surroundings, so much so that I paid no attention when someone bumped into my shoulder.

“Sorry, pal,” the guy apologized, grabbing onto my arm and spinning me to face him.

“No worries,” I snapped, turning away from him, desperate to get to my girl.

“Have a good evening then,” the man replied, clapping me on the shoulder heavily, and I felt the sharp sting of something pierce my skin. “Have a really good evening.” The stranger’s face leered down at me as my knees turned to jelly and I crumpled to the floor.

The last thing I saw before blacking out was from between people’s legs as the party guests crowded around to see what all the fuss was about: Kit, in her beautiful red gown, being hauled away by a huge man in a suit.