Moonlight cast an eerie, pale light over the gloomy alley. In the shadows of a looming building, bodies moved. Shae’s heart pounded hard, seconds from crashing through her ribs, then sun-bright eyes looked up, staring at her, his mouth fastened on a woman’s neck.

Agony surged, a vise squeezing her chest. Dagan, no!

The dream distorted, reformed… “You killed your father, it’s all your fault he’s gone—left me,” her mother cried.

“Mom, please—” Shae reached out for her, but she dissipated into the night. Instead, darkness surrounded her.

There, in the gloomy corner of the empty parking lot, her father lay on the tarmac, amidst melted ice cream. “Daddy!” Shae raced toward him. The dark shadow over him dissipated into the night, the lot lights flickering ominously. “No—nooo!” Blood seeped from several wounds, a dagger stuck out of his chest. Sobbing, she fell to her knees and wrenched the blade free—

Hide, Shae, hide, his frantic voice echoed in her mind. “Never…”

Shae jackknifed up in bed, terror compressing her lungs. Gasping for breath, she sprang up and paced the bedroom, her arms wrapped around her body as more shudders wracked her.

After so many years, now she dreamed about his death? His unfinished sentence bounced in her head. Never… What? Let them find her?

Furiously, she dashed away her tears. Uncle Lem had said it was a robbery. She didn’t believe it, not with her father’s words echoing in her head. Something about his panicked voice resonated deeply within her. Terror…for her?

She stopped near the window. Did her mother’s disappearance have anything to do with his death? Was that why she left? But nine years later?

God! Nothing made sense.

Shae scrubbed her damp cheeks, her fingers touching the scar on her face, wishing she knew what it all meant, and stilled.

There was one way to find out the truth.

Urgency had her moving. She changed, then retrieved the pewter dagger with the intricately carved hilt from her knapsack, one she kept close but never used, and pushed it into her boot. From her suitcase, she took the packet of salt and shoved it into her pocket then paused. She didn’t want to bring Angelus into this, not after the debacle at the club. With Dagan still out on patrol, she didn’t want to bother him either, or worse, fight him over this.

Shae stepped out onto the balcony and tried to recall how she’d teleported the night she killed those demons. Her palms clammy, she closed her eyes and imagined herself at the place where Dagan had briefly trained with her. There was no spot safer than that.

She willed her abilities free. The air shifted around her. Moments later, she took form and landed with a hard thump on a granite surface. Pain jarred up her spine and rattled her teeth. Jesus!

A blast of freezing air stole her breath but did little to soothe her troubled mind. She pushed to her feet, wincing at the ache in her butt, and zipped up her jacket. Clouds hung low and ominous. She took off in a run, stopping some distance away from the spot where the warriors usually trained, and away from the monastery. The moonlight illuminated the stark, lonely stretch of rugged plateau in front of her.

Reclaiming the salt packet from her pocket, she marked a wide circle then placed the piece of paper with the name of the Edge demon and three X’s around it in the center and then stepped out of the ring. “Shaximus, I summon you…”

* * *

His hunger temporarily satiated after feeding, exhaustion sawing through him, Dagan dematerialized back to the monastery. In the courtyard, he checked the wards protecting the place. All appeared intact. He went motionless, an unsettling sensation coasting over his psyche.

Shae! He flashed to his room. Empty. He scanned for her, but she was nowhere in the monastery. Fear clawed at his gut. He sprinted outside and scanned again. At the faint psychic vibration lingering in the air, he cursed a blue streak. What the hell had happened that she left the monastery alone?

Catching her lingering buzz, he dematerialized. Seconds later, he reformed on the mountaintop some distance from the monastery.

An acrid odor burned his nose. His gaze clamped on the swirl of a thick, green, sulfuric cloud. A seven-foot-tall, black-skinned demon with glowing, pale eyes appeared—in front of Shae.

“What do you want, human?” the demon growled, arms folded over his enormous chest.

Shae stepped back. “To…find someone.”

What the hell? A roar thundering in his head, Dagan dove for her, snatching her away from the demon. “There will be no deal brokered!”

“No—” Shae elbowed him, but he held her in a vise-like grip against his chest as the demon grew in stature, the swirling green mist becoming thicker.

“I should demand payment for time wasted, Guardian, but you will be a pain in my arse. Just this once, this is voided.” In a swirl of violent green, the demon vanished.

“Noooo!” She thumped her fists on his chest. “What have you done?”

Still trapped in his fear, Dagan shook her, hard. “You summoned a fucking Edge demon. He would have demanded a payment that would tie you to him for life!”

“You don’t know that.” Her chin wobbled. Anguished, red-rimmed eyes speared him in the heart. “You’ve ruined everything—”

“I saved your damn hide!”

“I have money, I would have paid him.”

“By the heavens—” Cursing in his language, he bit out, “Think, Shae. Think. They aren’t human. They’d want your blood or your damn soul in reimbursement.”

“Then I would have given him my blood,” she yelled. “At least it’s good enough for him!”

At the low blow, his temper flared. “You ever do something this perilous again, so help me, I’ll lock you up in one of those monk cells we have—”

“I don’t care what you do. You destroyed my only chance of finding…” Her voice broke. Tears fell.

Frustration and helplessness tearing at him, he gentled his hold on her upper arms. “Look, when we get back to New York, I’ll help you find your mother.”

“It’s not my mother,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. She pulled out a dagger from her boot that looked a lot like his with the intricate etchings on the guards, except for the color and black stone on the hilt. “I want to know who used this last.”

“You could have asked me,” he snapped, temper rising again.

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know—you didn’t tell me. I thought it was just with people.”

Hell! It wasn’t like he made a point of talking about his abilities. Furious at himself, Dagan took the damn blade, and his breath caught like he’d taken a blow to his belly. The sheer evil of the person who’d wielded the weapon twisted his gut. Images flashed through his mind…

Pain drenched him, the dagger plunging repeatedly into his chest. Blood flowed…a blurry face with dark hair appeared above his, cruel laughter echoed. “I will have what is mine…”

Dagan pushed harder, needing to hear the rest of the assailant’s words…but it was all fuzzy.

“Do you see anything?”

Shae’s voice hauled him out of the darkness in the blade, and the visions faded, but his own frustration escalated. He’d felt the victim’s agony and had gotten a hazy visual of the attacker, but nothing else.

Meeting her hopeful, wet gaze, he hated having to keep this back, but he had to be sure before he said anything. “Vague images only. Where did you get this weapon?”

She wrapped her arms around her waist as if holding herself together. “I pulled it from my father’s chest.”

He frowned. “No one looked for it? The cops?”

“I don’t recall. But I always had it. Uncle Lem said when they found me hiding in a nearby building, I was in a daze. I remembered nothing. The therapist I saw explained that I’d been too traumatized and had blocked my father’s death from my mind. It was the only way I could cope with the trauma… Until now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was asleep…” She took a hiccupping breath. “I dreamt of my mother, then the next thing I knew, I was in a parking lot. Dad had taken me to buy ice cream. When he didn’t return to the car, I went looking for him. He…he was lying there on the asphalt, blood and melted ice cream all around him. I pulled that blade out of his chest. Then I heard his voice in my head. He said I must hide from them. Who’s them, Dagan?” she rasped, pressing a hand to her throat. “There was just a dark shadow surrounding him, and then it vanished, but no one was there. It’s why I have to find out who used this blade to kill him—who would do something so evil. My father was a kind and gentle person. God, I hate that I ran and hid.”

“You were just a child, Shae. You did what he asked.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “Let me keep the blade for a little longer, okay? I want to see if I can pick up anything else.”

“Ok—” She winced.

He reached out and gently stroked her pale throat, and the healing light flowed through his fingers, but the glow flickered a few times and died. His lips thinned. His restorative power wasn’t as strong as it should be, and he knew why. He lowered his hand.

“Thank you—” She swallowed, her voice still husky. But at least she could speak clearer now. He drew her close and dematerialized them back to the monastery.

While she changed into her pajamas, he made a cup of tea, liberally laced it with honey, and headed back. He found her sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Get in.” He pulled the covers back, and she climbed in, looking so beaten. He wanted to go and find the faceless bastard responsible for her anguish, show him the true meaning of pain. Instead, he put all of that on the backburner for now, sat beside her, and held out the tea. “Here.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink it.” He pressed the cup into her hands. “The honey will help.” Google had said so.

A shuddering breath escaping her, she sipped the steamy beverage. Dagan rose to his feet, mind-linking with Michael, wanting to speak to him, but hit a wall. Dammit. He got out his cell and shot off a message.

Once Shae was done, he took the cup from her and set it aside. Her shoulders drooped in fatigue as she lay down. He pulled the covers over her.

“Stay,” she whispered, grasping his hand, her eyes like gray pools of desolation in her pale face. “I don’t want to be alone.”

With a nod, he undressed, pulled on sweats, and slid in beside her. Her eyes closed, her exhaustion sliding over him like a sheet of lead as she settled in the crook of his shoulder, a hand resting on his chest.

His heart surging with tenderness for his mate, he brushed his lips on her brow. She was so damn brave to have borne all this for so long. He’d make sure she got closure for her sire’s death.

* * *

Late afternoon sunlight flooded his workshop. Dagan tossed the gouge he’d been using on the wooden gazelle onto the table and rubbed his jaw. He’d gotten up way before Shae had, deciding she should take it easy after her traumatic night. But she had other ideas once she’d awaken, insisting on keeping up her training.

His mind looped back to the Edge demon she’d summoned. Shit! His stomach still heaved in dread every time he thought of how close she’d come to being tied to one of those beings. It could only be that damn Harvey who had procured a name for her.

Unable to concentrate, he crossed to the window overlooking the backyard where she currently trained with Angelus.

The fae circled her with a broadsword. Instead of watching her counter moves, Dagan’s gaze tracked down her body as she bounced back on her sneakered feet. A white tank top hugged her chest and black, knee-length tights revealed her long, sexy legs. She probably wore the attire for easier movement when training, but his body tightened at the sensual vision she presented.

His hands resting on the windowsill fisted when he recalled her sitting astride his face, his mouth on her—

“Aieeeeee!” Angelus’s battle cry erupted, and he leaped at her. Dagan froze. Instead of using her sword to block, she countered with a solid kick to the fae’s belly, sending him stumbling back.

Dagan growled, feeling as if his heart would escape its cage. Yeah, he would always feel way overprotective when it came to her. And that damn weapon she used was too heavy. He spun around to go and find her something more suitable when the air shimmered.

Michael took form, sporting his usual biker appearance in jeans and a faded black tee. He refastened his inky strands into a ponytail. “You called?”

Dagan snorted at the drawling tone. He picked up the dagger from the table and handed it over. Michael ran his thumb along the etching on the pewter-gray hilt. Tiny vertical lines creased the skin between his eyebrows. “I haven’t seen one of these in ages.” He studied the blade then sniffed the metal. “Where did you get it?”

“Shae. It’s the one that killed her father. She pulled it out of him—doesn’t remember much of the killing…” he told Michael what Shae had disclosed, and what he’d picked up when he touched the weapon.

Piercing, shattered blues met his. “It an angel’s blade.”

“I figured that from the design on the hilt.”

“That’s not what I meant. This dagger belongs to a rogue, and one I’ve been hunting for a while.”

Rogues? Damn! This was worse than pursuing evil Fallens. To escape the gruesome punishment of losing their wings and powers in whitefire—the Celestial Realm’s punishment for leaving the order—rogues went into hiding in this world. Problem was, they were very, very dangerous and a threat to mortals. “Any idea who?”

“A higher-order angel, judging from this blade.” Michael settled against the windowsill. “I’m surprised he hasn’t searched for it yet. Fallen or not, celestial angels treasure their weapons. How long since Shae lost her father?”

Dagan frowned. “Nine years. Why?”

“About a decade ago, I was tracking Samael. I found him, but he escaped. If he’s back in New York, we’re neck-deep in shit. And there’s one other, a throne. Bred for war, they’re damn dangerous. If it’s who I think it is, it’s going to be a definite fuckfest. This dagger has just made finding the rogues top priority.”

“If we come back, it will put Shae in danger.”

“It would. I’ll notify Nik about the change in duty. You and Race remain here for now.” Those fractured irises met his. “Shae’s abilities, any changes?”

“Her powers are growing stronger,” he admitted. “She’s still having trouble keeping her shields in place, but with a little more time, she should be good. Here’s the thing, I still don’t think she’s psionic.”

Michael set the blade on the table. “That can wait until you both get back to New York, unless her powers escalate. One other thing…”

Why did that pause feel like a tanker was about to fall on him?

“Is she your mate?”

Dagan didn’t answer. Why bother when Michael already knew. He missed nothing.

“Make your decision soon. If she’s psi, and no mating occurs, then she goes to the Celestial Realm. If she isn’t, and you go back to New York without mating her, the Fallen after her will claim her—and they can, since the angelic laws no longer bind them. There’ll be nothing you can do.”

Dagan had to force himself to unclench his jaw to speak. “I’ll kill any who dare lay a finger on her.”

Michael shook his head. “Why am I just learning now, after several millennia, what a bunch of stubborn bastards Gaia put me in charge of? Find a way, Dag. I didn’t just send you back here for shits and fun. Nor can you keep her without claiming her. And be prepared for the Absolute Laws if she isn’t psionic.”

After that doozy of a warning, the archangel vanished in a silvery swirl of molecules.

With a savage swipe of his hand, Dagan swept the unfinished sculptures off the table, the wooden pieces and dust flying everywhere. He tunneled both of his hands through his unbound hair, pacing the wood-shaving-covered floor in frustration.

As if his vampire curse weren’t enough, the Absolute Laws, which forbade mating between immortal and human, hung over their heads like a guillotine. It would mean instant death for both of them. And if he didn’t mate Shae, then the asshole Fallen who was stalking her could lay claim to his woman. He was screwed from all sides.

A sudden pained cry shattered the haze in his mind. Shae!