Malin wanted Surah to stay home in the evenings. Geza's anger, the increasingly murky politics.…

“I don’t like it,” the Prince said. “And you refuse a guard.”

“I have my own when I need them, Malin.”

The gargoyle's lip curled. “Humans.”

Surah refused to give in. “This work is important. How much time do you really think we have left?”

Leveling a hard glare at her, Malin replied, “Will it matter if someone gets it in their head to kill you in order to hurt me?”

They compromised. Surah–baffled and bedazzled at the speed with which her mate could work–walked into a newly appointed basement laboratory the next morning. Stopped. Stared.

Turned back to Malin, incredulous.

“When did you get all this done? Wait–where did you get the supplies? Oh my God–who touched my stuff?” Surah rushed into the lab, rapidly going through items familiar and new.

“Calm down. Cole coordinated most of the move. And you still have a lab at the campus, all the supplies we took will be replenished shortly.” Malin crossed his arms. Surah turned and looked at him, recognizing the stubborn expression. “So you have everything you need here–there's no need for you to leave the house for a while.”

“Are you kidding me, Malin? I mean, do you really expect me to stay on the grounds for the next...however long until this stuff blows over?”

Malin paused. “Not necessarily the grounds. More like the house. My love.”

“You’re insane.”

The Prince lowered his arms, moving forward. “I prefer the term practical. Protective.”

“I’m a scientist. A doctor. I prefer to use factual terms.” Surah sighed, blowing air into her tousled bangs. “Jeeze, this is going to take some getting used to. The basement. Like a bat cave.”

“There's a direct entrance to the back of the house with a small loading dock. I thought it would be convenient.”

“Well.” Surah closed the distance between them, placing her hands on Malin's shoulders and pressing a kiss to the male's mouth. “Go away, Malin. Evidently, I have homework to do.”

Surah didn’t quite believe Malin had pulled off the set up of an entire working lab overnight. But she'd let the Prince get away with that fiction if it amused him. Soon she was deep into her research, realizing after a while that she did actually need to go back to her lab on the campus. There was equipment and documents there she could bring over herself and set up. Probably Cole had just delayed the transfer because replacements hadn’t come yet–it wasn’t like the stuff could be ordered on Amazon.

She messaged Malin and snuck out of the house, taking one of the ground transports just as a reply–which she ignored–came through the cell. Surah figured she had maybe a good two hours to ignore Malin before her lover's temper boiled over. If there was one thing the Prince hated–it was being ignored.

Surah gave Cole a list of supplies and equipment to load into the car, and closeted herself in her area to get some work done while her assistant took care of the grunt work.

“Yo, boss lady,” Cole said, poking his head into the lab.

Surah blinked, glancing at her watch to see that an hour had already gone by. “Taking off for the night?”

“Yeah, me and my girl have a date. I've got everything on your list loaded and added a few things I thought you might need. Tracking says the replacements will be here tomorrow–your dude must have deep pockets, yo.”

“Deep something, anyway. Have fun.” Her wrist unit pinged a few minutes later. “Here.”

“Surah, you need to leave now.”

“What? Malin, look, I understand you’re worried, but—”

“Damn you, listen to me!” Surah shut up, sitting up straight on her stool. “I’m on my way, but you need to leave now. Kausar is with me.”

She didn’t need to hear anything else. “I’m leaving.”

Shedding the lab coat, Surah grabbed keys and hightailed it out, on high alert. Her ears strained for sound as she paused right outside the door of the building, eyes sweeping the orange lit parking lot for movement. They'd tried during daylight the last time; maybe because they figured if he had gargoyle allies, they'd be at rest for the day. At night her enemies would be at the height of their strength.

“Lady Surah.”

Surah whirled around. She should have been carrying a blade. Something. Though the gargoyle who landed gracefully onto pavement with a swish of silk skirts was elegant, lovely–she was also dangerous. Sarah scanned the skies for her guards, keeping an eye on Lavinia at the same time.

“What do you want, Lavinia?”

She moved closer, wings folding against her back. The rain scented evening breeze didn’t stir a single hair from her tight braid. “Now that is an interesting question,” she said. “I believe I told you what I wanted weeks ago–you refused.”

“And if you’re here to ask me again, don’t waste my time.”

Lavinia laughed. “Or mine. No, Surah. I’m not here to ask you again. I’m here to warn you.”

“About what?”

She smiled. “The Prince will not let go of power so easily–he knows of Malin’s intentions to wrest the throne from his control.”

“Malin has no such plans,” Surah snapped. “That’s a rumor spread by you.”

The Councilor ignored her. “I’ve heard talk the young Prince is moved to make a strike before his brother can offer the first blow.”

Surah closed the space between them, anger heating her words. “You know what I’ve heard, Mogren? I’ve heard that your ambition and idealism has led you to do the one thing our kind abhor–betray the Prince.”

“You are not one of us, girl. The happy–for you–fact that that whore Adagia pushed you out from between her legs doesn’t change what you are.”

Surah returned Lavinia’s smile with one of her own, a baring of teeth. “What? Pale, wingless? A weak child of day. You can’t say anything I haven’t heard my entire life.” She stepped back, reining in her temper before her clenched fist rose of its own volition to connect with Lavinia’s jaw. “Fly away, Mogren. I have nothing left to say to you.”

“I have something to say to you, Surah Adar, half-sister to the Prince. Fair warning, girl. I’m done playing games. I’ve admired you–you aren’t mentally weak and for a female with some of our blood, you aren’t an embarrassment. But my indulgence only goes so far. Either you halt your research, or accept the consequences. ”

“I’ll take the consequences.”

Lavinia laughed coldly. “Well, I’ve warned you–and we will have to make a small demonstration of our abilities.”

Surah turned just as Lavinia launched into the sky, watching her fly away with a frown. Malin would be furious. She strode to the plain, black sedan she'd taken, unlocking it as she approached. The click just barely covered the scuff of a foot on the pavement.

Damn.

She had just enough time to think of turning before feeling a sharp sting at her neck. Hard fingers pressing on her artery. Then nothing.

* * *

Pain flooded her body, muscles twisting in spasms like an all over charley horse. Her throat burned, eyes dry as sandpaper. Surah inhaled; even breathing hurt.

“Surah?”

Malin’s voice pierced through the muddled nerve endings. Surah turned on her side, aware of the brushed cotton sheets against her bare skin. Knowing that if she was conscious and Malin’s voice was this calm, then whatever had happened in the parking lot couldn’t have been that bad.

She attempted to sit up. Well…bad enough.

“Easy,” Malin said. Surah pried open her lids as Malin’s arm settled around her back, supporting her.

“What the hell?” she croaked.

“Indeed.” The Prince’s grim amusement gave Surah the courage to move her limbs. Her mother had once described childbirth, telling Surah the pain was so terrible, it hurt to even move a toe. She made a mental note to go visit her mother soon, maybe with a dozen roses and some homemade fudge in three different varieties. “We found you in the parking lot.”

Surah licked her cracked lips, carefully turning her head to meet Malin’s eyes. Carefully shuttered eyes.

“Surah, there’s a needle mark on your neck. There was an empty medicine bottle next to you.”

Well, that was obvious. Malin reached behind him, picking something up off the side table. He placed it in Surah's palm.

“I can’t read it,” the gargoyle said, body tensing with a struggle to hold in anger. “It’s obviously written in bloody Doctor.”

Surah only had to glance at it. “This is going to be interesting. Good news is, they might not have been trying to kill me. Bad news is–they might have been trying to kill me.”

“What is it?”

Surah grimaced. “Help me up. I need to move, burn this stuff out of my system. It’s your serum, Malin. The concentrated version. About a half-dozen doses. The experimental one.”

“Experimental?”

“The one I haven’t tried on you yet–so I have no idea what the side effects are. I usually take a small dose myself before giving it to you, but not in this—”

“You do what?”

Surah grabbed Malin’s rock hard shoulder for balance, pushing to her feet. Glancing at her lover, she frowned. “Well, what did you expect? I can’t just develop a drug without going through some kind of human trial first. We’re already treading hot water as it is. These things take years, dozens of trials…all kinds of steps we’re kinda flying through, singing la lala lala along the way.”

“I should murder you myself. You said you were trying to get pregnant.”

Surah opened her mouth, closed it, chagrined. How the hell had that not occurred to her? “Oh. Well. I kind of forgot about that.…” her voice trailed off in the face of Malin’s rage.

“If I didn’t love you, I would murder you.”

Surah closed her eyes for a minute. She felt lightheaded, struggling just to form another coherent thought. “That would solve quite a few problems. Not ours, obviously, but other peoples’ problems.”

She led a fuming Malin to the basement gym, going through a brisk sixty-minute cardio workout. There were a few times she had to stop, waiting out the horrible cramps, but slowly equilibrium seemed to return. They both took advantage of the sauna, the steam helping Surah sweat more of the drug out of her system.

“As soon as you’re well,” Malin said, each word precise, “we go to war.”

Surah opened her eyes, exhausted, forcing herself to focus. “Who are you going to war against, Malin?”

Stony silence told Surah everything she needed to know. The doctor sat up straight. If she stretched out her legs, she could just touch the tips of Malin’s toes. They stared at each other.

“We can’t go to war against our own brother, Malin. Have you considered that this is exactly what the Mogrens want? For us to destroy each other?”

“Kausar pursued your assailants. They were Geza’s personal guard.”

Surah rolled her eyes. “Oh ye of little faith. Come on, Malin. You’re having a ‘Too Stupid to Live’ moment here. Did you call Geza? No? Okay, so all we know is that either Mogren’s men in the uniform of Geza’s guard attacked me–or Geza’s guard, some of them, are traitors. We don’t know that Geza actually ordered an attack. You know, a simple phone call would clear that misunderstanding right up.”

Malin's eyes flared, lip pulling over an exposed fang in a snarl. “Don’t take that tone of voice with me. I’ll speak to him–but face to face, where I can watch his eyes as he lies to me.”

“I didn’t tell you about the talk I had with Lavinia before I was attacked?”

The Prince stared at her. When he spoke, his voice was completely neutral. “You didn’t mention that.”

“Well, my bet is she orchestrated the whole thing.”

“I swore that if she came after you again, I would kill her.”

“You can’t kill Geza’s Councilor without his permission.”

Malin bared teeth. “Then let’s go get it.”

Surah let out a breath. “Come on, Malin. No time like the present.”

The gargoyle grimaced as Surah pushed to her feet, swaying just a bit before she locked her knees.

“Are you insane?” Malin asked, rising to catch her as her knees buckled. “In this shape, you’re asking for someone to be done with you.”

“That’s why it’s perfect,” Surah argued. “My weakness just might draw our enemies out in such a way Geza will stop waffling and do something. Right now he doesn’t want to fight us–he’s waiting on you to make a move because he’s been half convinced you’re a traitor. But he knows better.”

Malin lifted her into his arms. “It’s amazing, all this conjecture–like you can read minds.”

“I know my brother.”

“And I know my brother. And you. I raised both of you garlings.”

“Yeah?” Surah slung an arm around Malin’s sweat slicked shoulders. “Well, come on then, Pa. We’ve got work to do.”