"How disappointing," Jelena said, as Malloryn lifted his head from his chest to look at her. "I'd expected... more blood."

Pushing to his feet slowly, he feigned a tremor. "Perhaps you underestimated my strength of loyalty. I will not harm her."

Both Dido and Jelena watched him through the bars of the cell, though Jelena paced like a hungry tiger and Dido merely looked bored.

"We shall see." Jelena snapped her fingers to one of the guards. "Open the cell."

The latch clicked, and the gate swung open.

Ava scrambled to her feet as Jelena strode inside. "Malloryn?"

He edged closer, wrapping the chains around the fist he kept tucked close to his leg.

"Jelena," Dido barked. "Don't be a fool. Wait him out. He cannot last for long."

"I will show you loyalty," Jelena replied. She drew the knife at her hip and strode directly toward Ava. "If I want blood, I'll have to take it myself."

"Wait!" Malloryn threw himself at the end of his chains.

The guards at the door pressed a button and something in the wall began to groan. He was hauled up short, and then yanked backward as the chains retracted into the wall. Hitting the ground, he felt the barely healed skin of his back scrape across the cold stone floors, but none of it mattered.

"Yes, Malloryn?" Jelena purred, grabbing Ava's chin from behind and setting her knife to Ava's throat. The blue blood scientist was no match for a rabid dhampir. "Do you have something to say?"

He saw the merciless gleam in her eye.

She would do it.

Just because it would drive a knife through his heart.

Ava gasped, and stretched up onto her toes. "Please don't hurt me."

No amount of begging could sway this.

"If you leave her unharmed, I will give you what you want," he said, hoarsely.

Jelena dragged the knife down to the bloodied lace of Ava's décolletage and rested the tip against her heart. "You misunderstand. You are giving me what I want. I want you to suffer, Malloryn. I want to cut your bloody heart out of your chest with a rusty knife. I want every single breath you take to hurt. And I think I've finally found the means to hurt you, haven't I?"

He only had one shot at this.

There was no way to stop this, no way to fight, except to surrender. "If you kill her, then yes, it will hurt. But I can give you something Balfour wants more than this."

"I'm listening."

He forced the words through his teeth. "Balfour wants me broken. He wants me shattered. Well, I can give him that. I will kiss his boots if he so wishes it. I will crawl at his feet and beg forgiveness for ever daring to touch what is his. I will let him parade me on a leash around the court and bow to his every whim. All you have to do is let Ava go."

Jelena's eye narrowed. She wanted blood, he could see it, but the idea of seeing him humbled also appealed.

"You will grant him anything he demands?" Jelena finally asked.

Malloryn slumped to his knees. "Only if you don't harm her."

"You see, Dido," she threw over her shoulder to her compatriot. "I told you I could find the right buttons to push."

Dido said nothing, merely watched him with those implacable green eyes. "We shall extend your offer to Lord Balfour. Her fate lies in his hands."

But Malloryn knew he'd won, because there was nothing Balfour desired more in life than his abject humiliation.

However, Jelena wasn’t finished yet. "Prove it," she said. "Prove you are ready to surrender."

His pulse thickened in his throat. "And how would you like me to do that?"

"Open the doors, Dido."

"Jelena," she warned.

"Malloryn wants to prove he is willing to do anything."

The door swung open, though Dido didn’t look happy about it.

"Walk through the door, Malloryn. You’re going to walk up those stairs, and you’re going to open the Iron Maiden, and you’re going to get into it."

A chill burst over his skin.

Not this.

He wasn’t certain if he could do this again.

"Malloryn?" Ava whispered.

He looked at her, with her frightened green eyes and her nervous hands clutching at her skirts.

It was different this time. The Rogues had come for him. He had to trust them. He had to hope. And he wasn't strong enough to defeat both dhampir. Not in this condition.

"As you wish," he said coldly, and forced himself to limp toward the door.

Sunlight drenched the pair of them.

Charlie traced small circles over Lark's bare back as she dozed atop him, her cheek resting on his chest and her hair draped across him. He'd been awake for an hour, but he didn't want to move and wake her.

Last night had been the culmination of all his dreams, and yet there was something to be said for the lazy satisfaction of waking up with her in his arms like this.

Lark shivered as his fingers tiptoed down her spine. Slowly, she lifted her head, eyes blinking sleepily.

"Good morning," he murmured.

"Someone looks pleased with himself," she grumbled, rolling off him and dragging the pillow over her face. "How can you look so cheerful so early in the day?"

She'd never been an early riser.

He burrowed his face under the pillow and pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. "Because some woman ravished the hell out of me last night and I feel utterly fantastic."

Her eyes blinked open. She blushed.

"If I recall correctly, I was the one being ravished. I have the bite marks to prove it."

He tossed the pillow aside, and Lark groaned, dragging the sheet over her head. He hauled her into his arms, letting her stay buried. "Did you know you become quite primal when someone tries to lay hands on me?"

"I do not!"

"No, I quite like it," he said with a laugh. "I thought you were going to punch Lady Kirinov in the face when she grabbed me by the balls." He rolled onto his side. "Thank you for protecting my virtue."

"You were in a difficult position," she growled. "If you shoved her away from you, then you'd have broken our cover. And I could tell you were struggling. You'd never hit a woman, but I could. Your sense of chivalry's going to get you killed one day."

"And how do you feel about what happened afterwards?" He knew she didn't kill lightly. The first time she'd cut down a man from one of the slasher gangs who haunted the East End, she'd shrugged it off, but he'd found her casting up her accounts in the gutter several streets over.

Lark snuggled into his chest. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"You can if you want. You know that, right?"

She nodded, her finger tracing small circles around his nipple.

"It's the thing I like most about being with you," she whispered. "I always felt like I could talk about almost anything with you. You always listened. It was hard...."Charlie trailed his fingers up her spine, waiting for her to continue.

"After what happened to my family, the most difficult thing was not being able to speak about it," she said softly. "It was too dangerous, for you never knew who was listening. Some men were asking questions about Tin Man in Copenhagen, and we had to leave everything behind. I don't even know if they were Sergey's men or not, but we always had to presume they were. Everywhere we went I was looking over my shoulder. The only place that felt safe was the rookeries, but even then.... Even then I had to play a part. I was allowed to be Lark, but I could never be Irina ever again."

"I had a small taste of that when Vickers murdered my father, and Honoria fled with us to Whitechapel. I hated being trapped in that little slum, but I didn't dare leave the house. I've never felt so alone in my life. Honoria was doing everything she could to try and cure the craving, and all I wanted to do was be normal again."

"Exactly." Lark lifted her head, her smoky hazel eyes locking on his. "You don't speak about that part of your life very often."

"Ever," he pointed out with a wry smile. "I never want to even think about those six months ever again."

Lark stroked his lips, tracing the curve of his smile. She knew the story. Everyone in the Warren knew the story. The craving was a dangerous disease. Day by day his body had been weakening, craving blood, and he'd been starving it in his quest to stay human.

The problem was, the blood thirst never weakened. It only got stronger, and he'd had two sisters in the house.

Two hearts beating as they pumped blood around their bodies.

He'd been so fucking frightened he'd lose control, that he'd insisted Lena tie him to the bed.

And Honoria....

She hadn't wanted to believe he was losing this fight.

He hadn't dared tell her how bad it had been, or how often he still woke directly from a nightmare where there was blood on his hands and his sisters’ bodies at his feet.

The only one who knew was Lark, because the one place he'd been able to go when those nightmares haunted him was her bed. They'd never speak of it, and she'd grouse about how much room he took up, but even if they'd been fighting she would never turn him away on those nights.

"Even when I arrived at the Warren, I had to stay locked away until Blade was certain I wasn't a threat to anyone. The loneliness... it eats at you. You were my saving grace, Lark. This annoying, arrogant little girl who thought she was better than me in every way. God, you used to drive me crazy, but your visits were the only thing that got me through. Everyone was so careful around me. They would lower their voices as if the slightest outburst would make me irrational. Honoria was so worried that I didn't want to scare her anymore. I felt like a freak. But you didn't care. You came and visited every day and even when you were bragging about beating me at checkers or cards, you gave me back my sense of normalcy. You gave me back my life. I didn't have to be something I wasn't when I was with you."

"Is that why you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Sometimes I see you smile at your friends to placate them," Lark murmured, pressing her finger into the center of his lower lip. "You're always smiling. Always careful to please. It's as if you think you can hide behind a smile and nobody will look any deeper. You want everyone to think you're fine, even when you're hurting."

He stilled.

Caught.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Charlie. I know all your tells."

"And I know yours." He captured her hand and kissed her fingertips. "You run when you're frightened. You locked me out for nearly three years. If we're going to make something of this—what lies between us—then you can't run anymore. You can't lock me out."

"Are we going to make something of this?"

"If you think you're going to ruin me for one night and then not accept the consequences, then you should think again," he told her, mock sternly. "You took my virginity, Lark. You have to restore my reputation somehow."

"And now you're smiling again, when I know something is bothering you," she pointed out.

He rose up onto his elbows. "And you're avoiding answering the question."

Lark sat up and straddled his hips. "That's annoying."

"I know." He tried to maintain eye contact, fighting not to look down. "If you're intending to distract me, then you're doing an excellent job of it. Is this a new trick to deflect?"

Lark's eyes narrowed. "I haven't thought about it, to be honest. This.... What's happening between us right now seems a significant enough step with everything that is occurring." Her voice roughened. "We might not even make it out of Russia alive."

"If we do, then I'm not letting you go." Curling his arms around her waist, he dragged her forward, grateful the sheet was tucked between them. "I'm never going to let you go again," he promised, brushing some of her long, dark hair away from her bare breasts. "If I asked you to marry me, what would you say?"

He heard the abrupt surge in her heartbeat, felt the tension sliding up her spine.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" she blurted.

"Not now." He eased his grip on her, sliding his hands down her waist so she wouldn't feel so trapped. "But one day I might. So fair warning."

The look on her face....

He'd pushed her far enough for one day.

Charlie kissed her chin. "If we survive Russia, we'll speak more of it then. How about you let me distract you some more?"

"I thought I was distracting you?"

With a devious smile, she tugged the sheet over her head and vanished beneath it. Hot breath whispered over his chest, and he sucked in a sharp breath as he felt the wet dart of her tongue against his nipple.

"Lark?"

"Mmmm?" The vibration echoed through her lips as she licked his stomach.

He cleared his throat. "What precisely do you intend to do under there?'

"You didn't let me finish my practical experiment of Miss Jasmine's lessons last night."

His cock gave an enthusiastic leap as her breath stirred the nest of curls at the base of it.

"What's wrong?" Lark purred, pressing a kiss to the hollow where his hip met his upper thigh. Tendrils of her hair dragged over the sensitive tip of his erection.

"Nothing." He lifted the sheet and met her eyes as she gave him a mischievous grin over the swollen length of his shaft. This was the Lark he hadn't seen in years. Carefree. Glorious. Determined to bring him to his knees. "Carry on."

She scowled. "Oh, I shall."

And then she proceeded to pursue her experiment with a rapt attention that would have brought him to his knees, if he wasn't already flat on his back.

Lark made her way downstairs, her body aching in several unusual places. She could hear voices coming from the dining room, and headed in that direction.

The servant who'd served her ever since Nadezhda had fled from her rooms that first morning caught her attention on the landing, and gestured for her to follow her into the library.

"What is wrong, Sofia?" she signed, as the woman closed the door behind them swiftly.

Sofia seemed agitated, pacing back and forth. "Thank you," she signed, "for helping my sister last night at the House of Swans."

Lark blinked. "Your sister?"

Oh. Nadezhda.

"We of the Silent are all sisters and brothers," Sofia replied. "My brother, Anton, came to the house this morning. He works at the House of Swans and wanted to thank you for getting Nadezhda out of that dreadful auction."

"I hardly did anything," Lark murmured.

"You convinced the Crippled King to take her. We all know he will not harm her. That is more than can be expected."

It still felt like it wasn't enough. There'd been other men and women there. An entire household full of filthy blue blood aristocrats who thought they could do anything to anyone. It made her so furious.

"Anton, he gives me this for you." Sofia pressed a small piece of parchment into her hand. "The Silent, we hear things. The Blood forget we are in the room. They think us deaf and blind because we cannot speak, but we listen to everything. The dawn is rising, and we will have our time again, as you said."

"What is it?" She opened the small scroll of parchment. There was an address listed on it.

"This is where they have taken your friend. The blonde woman."

A chill ran down Lark's spine. "Ava? You know where they've taken Ava?"

"This is a bad house. The Silent avoid it, but we see all." Sofia squeezed her hand. "There is a man there too. Sometimes you can hear him screaming. They have Upyr. A bad house. You would be unwise to enter there, but the blonde woman..., she was kind to me too."

Lark curled the paper in her fist. "Thank you so much, Sofia. You don't know what this means."

"You should be wary of the Crippled King. He knows more than he claims he does."

"I thought you said he wasn't dangerous."

"Very dangerous." Sofia backed toward the door. "Most dangerous of all, I think. But he will not touch Nadezhda. Thank you."

"No, thank you." Lark looked down at the address once more. "You've given me more than you can imagine."

The words echoed in the empty room.

Sofia had vanished, and when Lark strode to the door, there was no sign of her in the hallway.