Shifting Sands. We’re on the island of Shifting Sands.

Ash had never been here before himself, but Chase’s cut-off sentence combined with the unmistakably tropical climate had allowed him to work out their location. Chase had once won a vacation at the all-shifter resort here, as a finalist in some ridiculous ‘Mr. Shifter’ pageant. The pegasus shifter had waxed eloquent—even more so than usual—about the many delights of the island for months afterward.

He’d even mentioned that there was a disused villa on the far side of the island, well away from the main resort. It had once been the private residence of the island’s previous owner, a man who had kept a secret zoo of imprisoned shifters. Justice had caught up with the collector; the captives had been liberated, and no one had used the place since.

Ash was fairly certain that Corbin was using it now. He also suspected that Corbin had known the previous owner—he certainly sounded like a man whose interests would have aligned with those of the High Magus, even if he hadn’t been a warlock himself. Corbin seemed just a little too familiar with the layout of the dusty, abandoned mansion.

And Ash had a growing, terrible certainty that he knew why Corbin was here.

The warlock had been using his power to portal in dozens more warlocks throughout the day. But these warlocks had all come alone, without familiars. The runes around their left wrists had just been flat black ink, the tattoos not yet shimmering with power. They’d all had hungry, eager expressions. Ash had seen people like that before.

Acolytes. Trained in binding shifters, but not yet with familiars of their own.

And across the island, there was a whole resort full of shifters, unguarded and unaware…

“More,” Corbin demanded.

Ash clenched his teeth, feeling the warlock’s will probing at him like a dagger between his ribs. He kept his own mental walls high and tight, as blank as his face.

He had years of experience in hiding his soul. He’d sat night after night in Rose’s pub, watching her from the corner, and never revealed his feelings.

He used all that hard-earned discipline now. The binding cut into his arm like red-hot wire. He couldn’t stop the warlock from drawing power from him, but he could at least slow the torrent.

The warlock held up one hand, studying the orange light jumping fitfully over his runes. “This childish defiance is pointless, Blaze. You are only hurting yourself.”

Despite Ash’s resistance, Corbin’s fingertips still burned with flickering flames. They glowed bright in the dim, shuttered room, reflecting in the glassy eyes of the stuffed animal heads on the walls.

Corbin rubbed his hands over each other, as though smoothing lotion into his skin. As the fire faded, so did the age spots and wrinkles lining his old flesh. His swollen knuckles straightened and strengthened.

Corbin let out a long, pleased sigh. He opened and closed his hands experimentally, his fingers moving more smoothly now.

“Twenty years will take some time to undo,” he said, admiring his own rejuvenated flesh. “It was the one spell I could not perform with any lesser shifter. Even I can only be reborn in Phoenix fire.”

He’d never wondered, before, why Corbin had never seemed to change. When Ash had been a child, Corbin had just been a towering, god-like figure. Even as he’d grown, he hadn’t really noticed that Corbin didn’t age. When you were in your twenties, everyone over the age of forty just fell into the vague category of old.

But now that he was in his forties, it was painfully obvious in retrospect that Corbin had never aged naturally. Ash cursed himself for not realizing exactly why Corbin had been so fixated the Phoenix. No wonder the warlock had pursued him across twenty years and two continents.

If he’d known, he would never have allowed himself to grow so complacent. He would never have assumed that the warlock had given up or died.

He would never have gone back to Rose…

Even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. He’d known, at some deep, dark level, that he was putting her in danger just with his presence. He simply hadn’t been able to stay away from her. He never would be able to.

His only hope now was that the same was true for her.

Corbin settled himself on a moth-eaten velvet sofa, crossing one foot over his knee. The warlock tilted his head to one side, regarding him with an inscrutable expression.

“A break, I think,” Corbin said. “To refuel the fire.”

The agony faded as the warlock closed the connection between them once more. Ash sucked in a gasping breath, sweating despite the cold still deep in his bones. He fell to one knee, bracing himself on the dusty floorboards with a splayed hand.

Corbin’s newly agile fingers tapped thoughtfully against the arm of the sofa. “You did not use to fight me this hard, Blaze.”

“Release my men,” Ash said hoarsely, “and I’ll stop.”

“A noble offer.” Ash bit back a grunt as Corbin flexed his will, the binding digging deeper for a second. “But I think not. No matter how you resist, I can still take what I need, albeit a little more slowly than I might like. And as for your men…I have use for them.”

Ash knew exactly what that use was. Corbin needed the power of Alpha Team to capture more shifters. Ash could see the shape of the warlock’s plan as clearly as if he’d could read Corbin’s mind.

Chase’s powers to locate and identify all the potential familiars. Griff’s to spot and close off any avenue of escape. John’s to summon a monsoon, providing cover for the attack. Dai’s fire to panic shifters out of the resort. Hugh’s power, inverted, used to paralyze rather than heal.

And his own fire, the unstoppable force of the Phoenix, to eliminate any shifters still able to resist.

Then Corbin would have even more warlocks serving him. Warlocks bound to powerful familiars, mythic shifters, alpha predators. Nothing would stop him from sweeping on to another hidden shifter community. And another, and another, and another…

All Ash could do was try to delay him. Rose was clever and fierce and she’d escaped. No doubt she was already in the company of the other women. Virginia, Connie, Hayley, Neridia, Ivy—none of them would rest for a second while their mates were in danger.

The women would find them. Ash didn’t know how, but he knew, bone-deep, that they would.

He had to give them time.

“The more you tighten your grasp, the sooner I’ll escape you.” With an effort, Ash lifted his head, meeting Corbin’s narrowed eyes. “You can’t afford to drive me too hard, Corbin. You know what will happen.”

He’d seen it himself, time after time, during those long years in the base. It went against everything in a shifter’s wild, primal nature to be leashed to a warlock. The older and more powerful the shifter, the sooner the binding drove them insane. And then, it was a quick, short spiral into death.

He’d been the only one to ever last more than a few short years. He’d been brainwashed, his own will bent and warped to support Corbin’s instead of fighting it. That has been the only thing that had allowed him to endure.

Now, though…now, he knew better.

“I can already feel the madness rising,” he said, which wasn’t actually a lie. The Phoenix was mad, mad with rage, its seething flames gnawing at his control. “Drain me too far, and my beast will consume my human mind, and my body shortly after that. You had to wait twenty years to claim your prize. At this rate, you risk losing it again in a matter of days.”

“Yes,” Corbin said slowly, drawing out the word. “That is a pity. I had hoped that you would settle tamely back into harness. It will be aggravating to have to track down and capture the next Phoenix.”

He stared at the warlock.

Corbin raised his eyebrows. “Did you think that you were my first, Blaze? I have been doing this for a very, very long time. You are correct, most of you don’t last long. But you…oh, you were perfect. Orphaned and abandoned, so pathetically eager to be wanted. So starved of love that you took my hand without question.”

A very, very distant memory flickered in his mind. Not so much a recollection as an impression—bars across an uncurtained window, moonlight, a hard, lonely cot. A shadow, a hand, a voice: Come. You belong to me now.

“Rare, very rare, for the Phoenix to choose so young and malleable a host,” Corbin mused, as Ash crouched in frozen shock. “Small chance of it ever happening again. That was all that stopped me from simply having you killed, these past few years. I was on the verge of doing so anyway, and accepting the risk that the next Phoenix might prove even more difficult to capture, when you very kindly revealed your weakness to me.”

The warlock leaned forward, gray eyes glittering. “Since you are so keen on self-sacrifice, Blaze, you might care to consider that you are all that is standing between me and the next unfortunate soul to host the Phoenix. I would not be so eager to go mad, if I were you.”

Corbin sat back again. “I know what you are doing,” he said conversationally. “You are trying to delay me. You pin your hope on the thought of rescue. Who is it that you think will come? How do you think they will find you?”

“You took the mate of the Pearl Empress. You cannot begin to imagine the powers she has at her command.”

“Oh, but I can,” Corbin breathed, an avaricious light gleaming in his pale eyes. “Beasts of the deep, legends from out of time, power to delight any warlock. Let her send her armies. My acolytes shall bind her warriors, and her forces will become my own. Abandon your futile thoughts of rescue, Blaze. I have won. I was always going to win. Accept that, and submit to my will.”

“So confident.” Ash met the warlock’s eyes. “Just as you were twenty years ago.”

The barb hit home. Corbin’s nostrils flared in anger, his mouth pinching.

“And you still have the same weakness.” Painfully, Ash straightened, drawing himself up to his full height. He looked down his nose at the warlock. “It is you who should surrender, Corbin. There is a flaw in your plan, and it is not one that can be covered. You know that. I know that. And there is another who knows it too.”

“Bluff,” Corbin snarled. “A good attempt, Blaze. But I have studied the Phoenix for hundreds of years. I know how your powers work, even better than you do yourself. When you burned the mate bond, you burned yourself from her mind. She does not—cannot—remember.”

“She does not need to. She is my mate. I told her everything.”

Corbin laughed scornfully. “More lies. I have spied on you for a decade, Blaze. You didn’t tell her anything. You let her eat her heart out pining for you, to the point where even I was fooled. Oh, you cracked in the end—driven by jealousy, no doubt—but you cannot persuade me that you spilled all your sordid secrets in a single night. She doesn’t know. I am quite certain of that.”

The punch of the warlock’s will took him by surprise. His head snapped back, spine arching as cold, intangible claws raked through his soul.

“And by holding your tongue you have sealed your fate, and that of all your friends.” Corbin’s taunting voice sounded distant, muffled by the agony roaring in his ears. “Just think, Blaze. If you had been honest with her, she would have known how to defeat me. How does it feel, to be the architect of your own doom?”

He bit his tongue, the iron taste of blood filling his mouth. With every ounce of will, he fought, holding his fire just out of the warlock’s reach.

And as he fought, he prayed.

Remember, Rose. Remember.