Blaéz set his whiskey glass down on the table and rubbed his stubbled jaw, restlessness crawling through him like ants. He glanced at the door Darci had disappeared through again. Even though Aethan was with her, a sense of dread continued to roil through him.

Icy pinpricks suddenly coasted over his psyche. His mystical tattoo stirred, pulsing in warning. Shit, demoniis! —Darci!

Blaéz shot to his feet and sprinted for the door as a commotion started somewhere in the distance— outside. One his heightened hearing easily picked up. Screams followed, then it all went quiet again. As he reached for the door, Echo and Kira hurried inside.

Fear swept through him at not seeing his mate, his words rumbled out in a low growl. “Where is Darci?”

“You came for her a moment ago.” Echo’s eyebrows drew together. “Didn’t you say something about your brother being around and that you wanted to leave?”

No—no! Fuck no! His gut loosened. His lungs threatened to shut down. The bastard! He’d taken her—taken his mate! “No,” he rasped, struggling to breathe, “I didn’t…”

“Oh, no!” Echo’s eyes went wide with shock.

You were right! Aethan telepathed him. A fucking demonii horde near the parking lot. Dagan’s here. You and Týr remain there, keep them safe.

“Celt—” Týr appeared at his side, putting a hand on his back as if to steady him. His tone low, terse. “I heard. We’ll find her. And shit’s flying outside.”

Blaéz didn’t respond—couldn’t with his jaw clenched so hard as terror and rage tore through him. He’ll rip Finnén apart if he so much as touched a hair on Darci’s head!

He scanned outside the restaurant, but only the faint sounds of clanging swords and guttural growls reached him. He picked up nothing of his mate or his damn brother. Desperation gnawing at his gut, he wanted to charge into the night, but with no idea where to find her, he mind-linked with Darci. Speak to me, a leannan.

Only unending silence echoed in his mind.

Finnén must have knocked her out. It was the only way she wouldn’t respond to his telepathy.

Declan appeared in front of him, looking like a thundercloud. Daniel and Grace hurried behind him. Shit! He couldn’t deal with this now. Týr stepped in smoothly. “It’s going to be okay,” he reassured them.

Declan cut Blaéz a cold stare. “This is why I didn’t want her with you. You bring her back, now!”

“Dec, don’t. Blaéz will find her.” Grace tugged at her mate’s arm.

Without a word, Blaéz headed for the door, pulling his rage deep into his gut. Oh, he would find Darci, and that fucker who took her. Blood would flow this night.

“What’s going on—where’s my aunt?” Daniel demanded.

“Why don’t we go and sit down while Blaéz looks for her?” Týr said quietly, a compulsion to obey underscoring his tone as he ushered Darci’s family back to their seats.

From the silent corridor, Blaéz dematerialized, taking form outside, in the back parking lot lined with trees. Icy air enclosed him in a freezing embrace while light snow continued to fall. He barely felt it as he walked the dimly lit lot, scanning the area for a scent, the fallen snow crunching beneath his booted feet. But only the faint reek of garbage drifted to him, the dumpsters hidden behind an old Chevy truck parked off to the side.

Blaéz pivoted and strode back. Immortals usually left behind a hint of their psychic energy, but not his damn kin because of his current job as a fucking law-keeper.

A sudden whiff of sulfuric stench burned his nose. Running footfalls echoed. A lanky figure lumbered around the restaurant corner toward him. Blaéz grabbed the scourge by the neck.

Neon red eyes glowed like lights in his pallid face. If desperation had a true scent, the demonii would positively reek of it. He snarled, revealing stained, pointy canines. “I’m going to drink you dry and take your sssoul.”

Blaéz shoved him against the building wall. “Who sent you?”

The demonii kicked out, catching him in the knee. Blaéz ignored the sharp pain spearing through him and rammed the fucker’s face into the brick wall. Bones crunched. A guttural roar ripped through the air.

His Guardian senses prickled like barbed wire grating him. Another was nearby.

Blaéz glanced back, keeping the one he held pinned to the wall. This asshole grinned as he pilfered the earth of its natural energies. Before he turned them into deadly bolts, Blaéz thrust into the demonii’s head with his mind and let loose his lethal ability. The scourge’s eyes bulged from its sockets. A wet crack resounded and his skull exploded. Blood, bone, and gore flew everywhere, turning into ash before drifting back onto the snow-covered asphalt and disappearing along with the deflating body.

“Noooo,” the trapped demonii moaned. Booted steps pounding the asphalt rang out, and a tall, familiar figure sporting warrior braids rounded the corner. Blaéz turned to his prisoner. “Who sent you here? Lie, and you’ll end up like your friend.”

“I don’t know,” he whimpered, black blood still seeping from his broken nose. “He said lotsssa souls here...” Desperation to live darkened his aura even more. “Lemme go…need a sssoul.”

“Then you should never have stolen the first one!”

Stone-cold fury swamped Blaéz when he realized what this was, a stall tactic to keep the Guardians busy. The damn fucker!

The demonii broke free and took off in a lurching gait.

Blaéz summoned his mystical sword. As the weapon took form in his hand, he leaped with preternatural speed and swung the blade in a deadly arch, decapitating the demonii.

“I guess that takes care of them,” Dagan said from behind him.

Jaw clenched, he dismissed his weapon, and as the obsidian sword dissipated in a mist and settled back on his biceps, he turned to the vampire Guardian.

Dagan stood, hands on hips, his yellow eyes surveying the area. “Týr told us what happened.”

“You won’t find anything here,” Blaéz said, tone detached. “Since Finnén joined the law-keepers, his psychic vibe is muted.”

“Let me try anyway.”

As the warrior shimmered and vanished, Blaéz’s senses arrowed in on the trees at the far side of the property. In a voice so cold that the shrubs nearby froze, he said, “I want her here, now.”

The Morrigan should know he was going to kill Finnén.

A flutter of wings and a raucous caw, a lone crow took off into the night.

Blaéz hunkered down and touched the cold, dirt-encrusted asphalt, hoping for a flash of precognition, something to aid him…

Nothing. His hand fisted.

Týr took form in front of him. “Darci’s family’s gone home. Managed to calm them down. Hedori’s taken Kira. Anything I can do?”

“Can you track a law-keeper’s psychic energy?”

“Hell…” Týr rubbed the back of his nape in helplessness. “Considering they are the pantheons’ hatchet dickheads, and given what their jobs are, I’m sure the powers that be made them untraceable.”

“Indeed, so it’s easy to assassinate couples like my human mate and me. There’s no chance of retaliation.” Blaéz pushed to his feet. “But that’s not why he joined them.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Týr’s eyes narrowed. “Your kin probably sent the demoniis here to distract us so he could make off with Darci.”

Blaéz had already figured that out, and Finnén must have used glamour, disguising himself as Blaéz. It was the only way Darci would go with him…and why Aethan had been fooled into leaving the women with him.

Dagan reappeared and shook his head. “I traced your mate’s energy since it’s a lot like yours, but it fades once out of the parking lot.”

As hard as Blaéz tried to keep his emotions bolted, despair and fear leaked through. He’d never felt this helpless before—no…he had once, when Darci was dying. Christ! Blaéz shoved away the crippling memories before they brought him to his knees.

Hang in there, a leannan, he telepathed her again, not caring that he hit a wall. I’ll find you.

His cell rang. He snatched the device from his pants’ pocket. His heart rate sped like a runaway freight train at the sight of his mate’s name. “Darci—”

Droll laughter. “You want to see her, then find me. I’m closer than you think, and farther than you wish. You have one hour, or I will fuck her and see what all the fuss is about, why you’d mate one from such a weak species…before I kill her. And it’s within my rights because she’s still mortal. If I sense any of your friends with you”—he sneered the word like it was filth in the gutter—“I will end her sooner.”

The call dropped.

Metal crunched. Blaéz loosened his grip on his ruined cell. He slipped the damaged phone into his pocket and lifted his gaze to the night sky.

“He gave you an hour.”

Blaéz glanced at Dagan, his fingers finding and grasping the cross in his pocket like a lifeline. “I’m going to take to the air and see if I can pick up anything.”

The usual tug of the part of his soul he shared with Darci remained quiet now because of the distance. He had to be closer to sense her. Where the hell did he even start?

“Blaéz, wait!” Echo shot out through the side door.

“Dammit, Echo.” Aethan strode after her. “You can’t do anything here. Let me take you back—”

“In a minute,” she panted, stopping near Blaéz. “I want to try and help find her.”

What could she, the Healer of the Veils, do, when a powerful tracker like Dagan, and his own damn precog wouldn’t respond?

Her bi-colored eyes held his. “Hear me out, okay? My abilities are awakening. So…” She glanced at Aethan. “I now have another power along with my healing one.”

“What are you talking about?” Aethan’s brow creased in confusion.

“It’s the angelic runes. I inherited one this evening. Lore calls it The Locator, said it would help me trace rifts in the veils easier. If it can locate rifts, shouldn’t it be able to help me find Darci?”

Hope was all Blaéz had. “Please. She’s with that bastard, thinking it’s me…”

Her eyes bright with empathy, Echo said gently, “I’ll do my best. She’s my friend, too.”

“Do you even know what to do?” Aethan demanded, looking like he’d been punched in the gut.

She shrugged. “No, but I’ve studied about the rune’s capabilities, and I’m damn well gonna try.” Her gaze lowered to Blaéz’s hand. “Give me that. It’s Darci’s, right?”

Frowning, Blaéz realized he’d taken the cross from his pocket. He handed it over.

Echo shut her eyes and concentrated, the pendant concealed in her fist.

Seconds later, she gasped and stumbled back a step. Aethan grabbed her around her waist, steadying her. “Dammit, Echo. What the hell—?”

Her hand started to glow, prisms of light escaped from between her balled fingers. “I think my rune’s making an appearance.”

She pushed away from him, making him scowl. Her eyes wide, she appeared equally dumbstruck as the radiance inside her fist brightened.

“What the hell are you talking about—what the fuck is that?” Aethan demanded, his eyes dark in fear.

Echo didn’t respond. She opened her fingers, revealing a glimmering, complexly inscribed sigil burned on her palm. A handful of golden sparks hovered above her skin, the cross no longer corporeal.

Echo’s brow creased in thought, then she flung out her hand. A quiet hiss sounded, and the night air split into a series of transcendent colors swirling at the edges of an opening portal, revealing more darkness on the other side.

His heart in his throat, Blaéz started forward. The golden sparks suspended in the air darted through the gap like fireflies.

“Hurry!” Echo waved to the portal. “Follow the sparks, I feel they’re from Darci’s cross. I don’t know how long this magic will last. But I pray you find her.”

Blaéz stepped through the gateway and tried to get his bearings.

I’ll find you once I get Echo back to the castle, Aethan telepathed him.

No, you cannot. He will kill her if he senses any of you close.

Damn! Aethan grunted. Call if you need me. Hell, Blaéz, I’m fucking sorry. I really thought the asshole was you when you said there was trouble and to check it out while you took over the females’ protection.

This wasn’t Aethan’s fault; but his for underestimating his damn brother.

The error’s mine, I’ve been at Finnén’s bloody mercy too many times. I should have remembered the way he operates.

The portal hissed shut. Sounds of rushing water reached his ears. Finnén wouldn’t risk being close to New York, probably the Catskills. Christ, he hoped so, and not some far-off place or another continent.

The gleaming fireflies darting between the branches in the thicket of trees snagged his attention. Blaéz dematerialized and followed.

Several minutes later, the golden sparks flickered and died out. But he didn’t let it deter him, he continued moving in the same direction, concentrating on the other part of his soul that always drew him whenever Darci was close…

At a weak stirring inside him, his heart nearly crashed through his ribs. Letting the faint tug draw him, he glided toward it in his molecular state.

Immensely grateful for Echo’s help, he perused the embankment along the river…the Hudson River? Houses sporadically dotted the area.

He coasted closer, scanning the first two buildings…just humans relaxing and watching television. As he approached another, all appeared quiet. But the tug on his soul continued. He took form and jogged around the sprawling manor. Empty. The windows were shut. With just mere minutes left of the godsdamn hour he’d been given, his stomach roiled.

Darci? He reached out through his mind-link again. Nothing. Dammit! He slammed his palm against the building wall in frustration, and a buzz spasmed through his hand like electricity. He yanked back, fingers clenching, and glanced up at the house. An unearthly energy lightly brushed his senses. Some kind of spell shielded this place.

And then he knew.

She was here.

The damn fucker! Keeping his anger shored, so he wouldn’t go on a rampage and destroy everything around him, not with Darci trapped inside, he spun around. A sharp, crackling hiss reverberated. A whip lashed out, coiling around his arms and body. Pain erupted, the immense power in the braided leather almost electrocuting him. Blaéz stumbled, shaking his head to clear it of the dizziness assaulting him as something hard smashed into his skull, flinging him into darkness.

* * *

Blaéz groaned, opening his eyes. His head hurt like he’d smashed it repeatedly against granite, and a vile taste coated his tongue. Cold seeped through his clothes, but the blistering pain from earlier had faded. He cast his fuzzy gaze around.

Dank concrete walls surrounded him, along with a mish-mash of old furniture and cobwebs. Small, high windows with dull panes broke up the drab cellar.

As his unfocused vision cleared, everything that had happened crashed through him like an avalanche. Darci! He shot to his feet and tripped.

“A Guardian? Indeed.” At the derisive tone, Blaéz’s head snapped up to find his twin standing several feet away from him. “So easy to capture you.”

“Where is she?” Blaéz forced out through gritted teeth.

“Safe…for now.”

At the threat, Blaéz leaped for the bastard, except something tightened around his wrists, yanking him back, burning into his flesh. He froze, terror flooding him in a massive wave, dragging him back to a past he’d never wanted to revisit in any way. A time of dank cells and a fiery whip slashing and burning his back, trapped with that sick, sadistic son-of-a-bitch demon, Maloch—memories that still caused him to go a little crazy—nightmares that refused to leave. Blaéz struggled to fight through the darkness threatening to pull him under.

“You are nothing but the weakling spawn Máthair picked up from the gutters.”

The vindictive words reacted like a life preserver, shattering through the red fog of clouding his mind like nothing else could. Blaéz desperately clung to it. Breathing hard, he forced his mind to focus on Finnén’s irate expression. Panic eased, and the past gradually faded. Moments like these had snuck up on him since getting his emotions back, along with sporadic nightmares, but Darci had been there to calm him down.

“Did the cat snatch your tongue, servant?” Finnén’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline. “You’ve gone all silent.”

Grateful for life’s twisted sense of humor that his irrational twin would drag him out of his horrendous memories, and had no idea of his nightmarish past, Blaéz reiterated, “Where is my mate?”

“Quite close, actually.” Finnén smirked. “And anxiously waiting for me.”

Growling, Blaéz shoved into the bastard’s mind, wanting to end him—to explode his skull into smithereens—but his head throbbed like a godsdamn motherfucker of a tanker had fallen on him. He ground his teeth in frustration.

If he couldn’t use his abilities…he summoned his mystical sword. The weapon stirred then fell as silent as a fucking ordinary tattoo.

Finnén chuckled. “You can’t kill me, servant. I took care of that with a spelled potion I poured down your throat to dampen your powers. Demons can be quite useful with blood-promises from a god—the fools! As if I’d ever tie myself to those lowly creatures…” He paced near Blaéz, an inch past the chain’s length and safely out of reach and cut him a sideways glance. “Nor can you escape those restraints. They’re spelled.”

Unable to focus, his mind held in a helpless loop at what could have happened to his precious heart, he snarled, “You’re going to wish for death after I’m done with you—”

“You are the one shackled, not me.” Finnén cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “As much as you pretend to hate us, you still want The Morrigan’s acceptance.”

Perhaps as the naïve, young boy he’d once been who didn’t know better. Now, he didn’t give two fucks that their mother had left him in the gutters as a babe, or more precisely, the servant’s quarters before he’d barely taken his first breath—to alter his destiny of death, which would have followed him into childhood—or so she claimed.

Inhaling deeply, Blaéz shut off his raging emotions. His dear brother had no idea what lengths he’d go to with his mate threatened.

“So, my existence is an issue then?” he drawled, folding his arms and feeling the rips in his sweater where the whip had sliced through. “Her actions made it clear whom she favors these days. After all, it wasn’t me The Morrigan sent off with his tail tucked between his arse back at the castle several months ago—”

A snarl ricocheted off the walls. Finnén flew at him, his fist connecting with Blaéz’s jaw. His head snapped back, pain exploding inside his skull. Blaéz dove for him, but the damn cables hauled him back.

“You’re going to regret that!” Finnén’s eyes burned with malevolence, his pale skin mottled with rage. “I’m nowhere near done with you. I want you to hurt so badly, that before this night is over, you’ll curse the fates for ever putting me in your path. Oh, on the off chance your friends think of coming to your rescue, this entire place is shielded.”

“Indeed.” Blaéz selected his words like poisonous darts. “Stuck in her bad graces and being pitied bites arse, big time. You’ll get used to it, I imagine.”

Instead of foaming at the mouth, Finnén appeared to reel in his temper—shit.

They were alike in some aspects, after all.

Calm now, he clicked his fingers, and a wall-mounted monitor came on, revealing an elegant bedroom and Darci asleep on a bed.

Blaéz’s heart stuttered in dread. “What did you do?”

His twin smiled, a cruel twist of his lips. “Nothing yet. I merely added a little something to her wine while I took care of the business of trapping you. Isn’t it impressive having the added power of being a law-keeper to aid me and get you under my control? And the blue-haired watchdog?” He laughed. “So easy to get him away from the females—throw some demoniis into the parking lot, and my way was clear. He really thought I was you as he took off to protect those feeble mortals.”

A red-hot rage tore through Blaéz. But trapped as he was by this maniac, he forced his anger down. With his mind, he tried to find a chink in the spell coating the cable-like ropes instead, his senses roving every inch of the chain, and then glided over the cuff on his wrist…

“True, I detest you,” Finnén continued as if Blaéz were interested in his fucking discourse. “I could live with tormenting you for eternity. But her”—he nodded to the monitor—“as a part of my kin? That, I will never accept. Renounce her, and I’ll think about letting your death be quick.”

Blaéz stiffened at the decree. “Listen carefully, you fucked-in-the-brains piece of shit—” Finnén growled at the slur. “—I will never renounce my mate, but you, I will take the utmost pleasure in destroying.”

“You make this so easy. Seriously, I have no idea what you see in this weak species.” With a wave of his hand over himself, Finnén’s long, blond hair morphed into short, black strands, and his gray eyes took on a deeper blue hue.

It was like staring in the mirror. He even wore the same black leathers and sweater as Blaéz. His control snapped. A roar punched out from his throat. “You bastard!”

“Enjoy the show. By the way, she tastes really good. I can see why you might want her for a toy—”

“What the hell did you do?” Blaéz snarled, shoving into the arsehole’s head, but his weakened ability just bounced off. Pain churned in his skull, his own brain felt like it might explode from the pressure.

“Nothing much. I had a sample back at the castle, testing out my new appearance—she likes it rough.” Smirking, Finnén sauntered out, shutting the door behind him.

Darci—wake up! Blaéz bellowed through their mind-link, but it got lost in a fog in his head because of whatever he’d been given.

His focus remained pinned on the monitor. The bedroom door opened. Finnén entered and kicked it shut. He strolled to the bed and dropped to his haunches near Darci, his gaze drifting over her slumbering form. He reached out and stroked her hair. “Wake up,” he crooned. He glanced at the camera, straight at Blaéz. “What is it you call her? A leannan?”

Snarling, Blaéz yanked at the cables. His flesh stung, and a sticky wetness coasted down his hands, but it barely registered, his entire being fixed on his sleeping mate.

The enchantment Finnén had her under appeared to fade. Darci stirred awake, and when she saw him, the smile Blaéz loved lit her face. “It’s not me, mo chridhe,” he whispered, his chest squeezing in pain, held helpless in the basement, trapped by the godsforsaken chains. “It’s not me…”

He tried to mind-link with Týr but hit a wall.

Darci sat up and pushed back her heavy fall of hair back. Her movements accentuated her full breasts in the fitted maroon dress with its low neckline, drawing Finnén’s attention. “What happened?”

“You fell asleep on the couch.” His voice lowered huskily, and he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I put you to bed.”

“Oh…I don’t remember.” Her wary gaze darted around the room. She shuddered and rubbed her arms. “What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Not yet. We have to stay a little while longer until I’m sure it’s safe.”

A tiny V formed between her eyebrows. “Did you find your brother?”

Finnén sighed. “Hopefully soon. When I’m done, he’ll beg for death.” He slanted a knowing smile toward the camera again. “Now, no more talk about him.”

Blaéz jerked at the cables, but the steel ropes remained steadfast, cutting deeper into his wrists. More blood dripped from his wounds.

Finnén sat on the bed and angled his mouth to Darci’s. An unmitigated roar of pain and fury tore free from Blaéz. Darci, you know it’s not me. You have to know!

“Wait.” She pulled back from Finnén. Thank, Christ! A smile brightened her face. “So, you’re conceding?”

No, no, no!

“What?” Finnén frowned.

“Our deal. The abstinence?”

“Yes-yes, of course.” He dragged his lips down her jaw to her mouth and put his hand on her thigh where her dress had ridden up. Finnén smirked into the camera.

No! Agony cleaving his chest apart, he yanked hard on the cables, the cuffs cutting deeper into his flesh. Blood flowed. A sharp spike of power shot through him, striking the walls in a crackle of power. A bolt hit the screen, and the transmission lost its signal, then the energy slammed back into Blaéz, sending him crashing into the wall.

Týr—Aethan! he bellowed through their telepathic-links. Where the fuck are you?