Shae disliked it when Dagan flashed with her, but stepping through an eerie opening splitting the air unsettled her more.

As she stumbled into sunshine, exhaling a relieved breath, the crack in the dimension closed with a soft hiss behind her. The icy chill here seeped beneath her jacket. Shae hastily let go of his hand and buttoned up her jacket.

Tall, spindly trees grew sporadically along a shallow riverbank, and the cool, earthy smell of damp soil drenched the air. Boulders covered with varying shades of lichen were clumped about. In the distance, a mountain range meandered into a forest and beyond. Heavy clouds enclosed granite peaks.

She searched the place for signs of habitation, a village, or even a hut. Nothing. “Where are we?”

“Romania.”

It made sense why he’d open a portal. “So where exactly is your house—” She broke off and peered at the mountaintops as the clouds drifted apart for a second. Far, far up, there was something. Shae gaped. “Is that it?”

He grunted.

The Guardians’ abode appeared like a disjointed series of blocks with towers which were stuck to the rock face of the soaring cliffs. Then the clouds merged, hiding the buildings once more.

“Whoa!” Laughter spilled free. She pivoted to him. “Are you competing with the eagles for home space?”

His mouth twitched, and her tummy tripped. She wished he’d stop doing that. She didn’t want to like his smile, too, not when his handsome face was already so damn distracting.

“C’mon.” He slid his hand around her waist and drew her close. Again, her body appeared to dissolve. Crap! Shae grabbed him, eyes shut tight. Moments later, they reformed on the sky-high courtyard. She bit back a moan, so darn grateful that he hadn’t let her go or she would have landed face-first at his feet.

Midday sunlight spilled over the building. From a distance, the place had appeared charming with its mismatched turrets and balconies meandering along the rock face of the mountains.

Up close? The abbey-like building didn’t welcome or captivate.

It loomed. Menaced. Made her want to hotfoot it out of there.

She shivered and rubbed the goosebumps flooding her arms. “This looks like an abandoned…monastery?”

“It was. After a minor tremor destroyed part of the building, we convinced the previous residents, the good monks, to take the dwelling we’d procured at that time, and we moved in here.” He headed for the arched, black, wooden door.

Frowning, Shae followed him. It seemed they hadn’t bothered putting things to rights after the quake either. The courtyard sported spidery cracks in the dusty granite surface that crept into the main building. She entered the cool foyer and warily eyed the spindly fissure on the worn floors. “How long have you lived here?”

A shrug rolled off those broad shoulders. “Since the fourth century.

Whoa! “And you didn’t think to fix this place up in all that time?”

“Why?” He cut her a questioning look. “It’s been stable enough.”

Okaaay. Hopefully, the building wouldn’t slide off the mountain anytime soon. “So, where’s the church?”

“The worship place was on the other side of the monastery and collapsed after the tremor.”

Ugh. That wasn’t very reassuring. But if they still resided here, it probably—hopefully—was safe.

Shae slowed to a stop and simply stared. Soaring walls and a faded, patchy biblical ceiling fresco that had suffered some damage through the passage of time surrounded her. Sunlight streamed through the dome-shaped windows into an enormous split-level living room of sorts.

On a wooden coffee table lay a spilled deck of playing cards as if someone had started a game and left. A couple of recliner armchairs surrounded the table. Two arcade games, along with a foosball and a pool table took up space along on the opposite side. And the most important equipment for men’s survival? No TV. Nada.

“Who else lives here?”

“Two others. The kitchen’s in there.” He waved a hand to his right. “Down the hallway are the bedrooms,” he said, pointing left to the shadowy corridor, “and upstairs. We don’t usually have guests, so most of the unused rooms are uninhabitable. My room is the second to last one down this hallway. Use it until I get something sorted out for you.” He pivoted, then swung right back. “The other Guardians’ rooms are off-limits. I’ll see you later.” Then he shimmered and just sort of faded like a ghost.

Really? That’s it? She scowled at the spot he’d been moments ago. More rules, then he disappeared?

Damn man. But with exhaustion weighing her down, it wasn’t like she could simply leave and go book a room at a hotel. No matter how beautiful this open mausoleum of a living room appeared, or inviting the leather recliner was, two other Guardians lived here. They could walk in anytime.

Resigned, she made her way down the dim corridor, warily avoiding the spidery cracks on the floor, and opened the door to Dagan’s room. Empty. Cautiously, she stepped into his personal space.

Dust motes swirled in the light slanting in from the narrow, arched windows. Opposite, against the faded white wall, stood an enormous bed with a dark headboard. A steel and ebony chest took up space near the small, unlit fireplace. And above the mantel, several swords adorned the wall. Yup, this place appeared austere and rigid, just like him.

Shae got rid of her jacket, kicked off her boots, removed her socks, and flexed her sore feet. The cool stone floor soothed her soles. Fatigue felled her like a tree, and she slumped face-down on the bed.

The open windows let in a brisk breeze, but she was too drained to move and shut them. God, it had been a hellish night…

A splattering noise disturbed the quiet. Shae jerked awake. A little disorientated, it took her a moment to recall her whereabouts. Then everything that had happened crashed through her like a tidal wave.

Jesus, she shut her eyes, wishing the last six months were a really bad dream. Shifting a little, she snagged her jacket from the foot of the bed and retrieved her cell. Three hours had passed? It felt like mere minutes.

Yawning, she dropped her cell on the nightstand and shut her eyes. Sounds of rustling water seeped into her consciousness. She stirred enough to lift her head and look for the source. Her gaze settled on one of the two doors adjacent to the bed. The shower. Dagan?

Instantly, images of his sexy, naked body filled her mind, chasing away sleep. Warmth stirred low in her belly—ugh! Unable to nap now, she slid off the bed and wandered outside onto the rambling balcony. She passed the wooden table and chairs there and leaned her arms on the granite balustrade. Whoa, they were so freakin’ high, the river snaking far below appeared like a silvery thread in the sunshine.

She couldn’t stand enclosed spaces, but heights? She loved them. Enjoyed the freedom because it took her away from the bleakness of her life.

Closing her eyes, she lifted her face to the sun’s warm rays. Something scuttled over her bare feet. A scream tore free. Shae jumped back, her hips hitting the table, her gaze fixed on a swarm of beady, black eyes. She scrambled onto a chair, her heart nearly flying over the balcony.

“Shae!” Dagan shot out through the door, a towel clutched to his man parts, and spun around, searching the place. His long, wet hair whipping around him, water spraying the windows and walls…and her. “What is it?”

“Ra—rats!” She gulped, pointing to several of them on the floor, gawking at her, their noses and whiskers twitching. “Chase them away—chase them away,” she whimpered.

He straightened, then casually moved the towel to wrap it around his lean hips, the image of ripped abs and a semi-erect sex searing her mind. But her fear of the pestilences trapping her on a chair was too great to even admire his manly bits. Damn annoying vermin, spoiling her fun.

“This is their home, too.”

At his droll words, fear morphed into irritation. “No way am I sharing anything with your pets!”

“They won’t hurt you. They’re quite er, tame.” With that parting shot, he headed inside and then threw over his shoulder, “Are you coming?”

“No.” She sulked, lowering to sit cross-legged on the table, and counted the rats. Five of them.

With a long, drawn-out sigh, as if she were wearing on his last thread of patience, he walked back, scattering the rodents, and swept her into his arms. She grabbed onto his neck.

“Make me carry you again, hellcat, and be prepared for the consequences.” His arms banding around her like steel cables, he strode indoors.

Darn, but he smelled really good. He dumped her on the bed, and she bounced a few times. She stared up into his cool features and clashed with his searing eyes.

Did he really not like her?

Something inside her constricted at the knowledge. But then, neither did her mother, or even Ash when it came down to it.

Brutally, she squashed those thoughts and sat up. “It’s not my choice to be in this rat-infested dump—”

“This dump and I are the only things keeping you safe. Let me refresh your cloudy memory, wildcat. Those assholes after you are not human. All they’d need is a hint of your psychic vibration to track you. So get rid of your opinionated thoughts. You are human, fragile, and too damn distracting.”

The apology died in her throat. Is that what he thought?

His jaw rigid, he retrieved a pair of jeans from the closet, tossed the towel aside, and didn’t seem to care that he was naked. He pulled the pants on, buttoned up, and then stalked out of the room barefoot and bare-chested, throwing over his shoulder, “Don’t leave the room at night.”

“Why not?” At night, she tended to raid the kitchen for food when she couldn’t sleep.

He didn’t look back. “Wait until I introduce you to the others, or they’ll think you’re a gift.” With that delightful warning, he vanished.

Shae scowled. Well, she could take care of herself.

But Dagan’s words echoed painfully in her head, too fragile, too distracting, and too opinionated. Was there anything about her he couldn’t find fault with?

Her chest constricted. Feeling as if she’d suffocate if she remained in his room, Shae got off the bed and swayed as she stood. Damn. She reached for her jacket, searched for her Dextrose in the pocket and found just one left. Crap. The rest were still in her suitcase. She popped the candy into her mouth. It would hold her for a while, but she needed food.

Navigating the cracked corridor and the sunken living room, she found the kitchen easily enough. Warmth surrounded her from the wood-burning stove someone had lit. An enormous fridge near the open window appeared to run off a generator, its drone drifting into the kitchen. A rustic table and six mismatched chairs finished off the décor. Two of the six were tucked under the table and appeared fairly new. The others, older ones, had boxes stacked on them and were aligned along the wall.

Shae ransacked the cupboards and found dishes but no food. The fridge, however, revealed loads of energy drinks, grapes, and some lifeless potatoes. She swiped a bunch of green grapes and ate several of them.

Scratching around in the freezer, she found steaks, took several, and dropped them in the sink. Then she hunted through the drawers for a knife, anything to peel the sad-looking spuds.

She didn’t understand how the castle in Long Island appeared like a fairytale, and this one looked as if it belonged to a poor relative. But being men, they probably didn’t care.

Dammit, where did they keep the knives? Did they even have any of those?

“I wish I had a blade. Heck, even the black one I fought with—” Something heavy appeared in her palm, glowing eerily. A muffled shriek caught in her throat, Shae jumped back, the obsidian dagger dropping onto the table with a loud clatter.

Holy shit! Where had that come from? It looked a lot like the one she’d found in Dagan’s truck and threw away after the demon attack. Uneasily, she glanced up at the ceiling, but there was no porthole that it could have fallen through. A slack feeling in her gut, her gaze dropped to the dagger once more. Gingerly, she picked up the blade, but it didn’t light up again.

Oh, man… She glanced at the door, hoping someone would miraculously appear—like the dagger had—and explain all this. But she remained alone.

Okay, Shae, in the past twenty-four hours, you’ve met people who hunt evil demons, you’ve teleported…heck, you even stepped through a portal! And the man whose room you now use is immortal, so why not a magical dagger appearing?

Ugh. She was going to give herself a headache. Right now, she needed to eat. She started peeling the potatoes. And what do you know? The dagger did a great job in the kitchen, too.

An hour later, the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat permeated the place. She scooped out the freshly fried chips and drained them on a rack over a plate, then popped one into her mouth. As she chewed, she frowned at the small fried heap. Nope, those wouldn’t be enough for a man Dagan’s size or if the others turned up. Fetching several more potatoes, she pared again.

The sound of booted footsteps drew closer. The door opened, and Dagan entered. He’d put on a gray t-shirt, the fabric stretching over his wide chest. He crossed to the shelf opposite her.

Damn. His hair, like a sheet of black satin, did brush his sexy, jean-clad backside.

She looked up, and heat crawled across her face when she found him watching her. No point in pretending she wasn’t eyeballing him. With her pale coloring, it was like a glowing bulb declaring her guilt. She cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

He didn’t comment, merely uncorked the bottle of red wine he’d procured and poured some into a crystal goblet. Still silent, he leaned against the cupboard and took a sip. With his long, dark hair, ridiculously handsome face, and frightening charisma wrapping around her like a noose, her breath caught at just how easily he drew her.

Yep, just like her, to want what she couldn’t have.

She lowered her gaze and started peeling again.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

At his sudden roar, Shae jumped. The dagger slipped from her hand onto the table. Scowling, she snapped, “The pantry. I’m hungry. There’s no food.”

He stalked closer, his eyes like molten fire, the orange sparks visible. “The blade, Shae, where did you get it? Did you go to the other warriors’ rooms?” he demanded, suddenly looking like he’d swallowed a handful of broken glass.

“So what if I did? You have nothing in this place, no cutlery at all. I can’t use my fingers to peel these.”

“Where did you get the dagger?” he repeated. His tone held an edge now.

Sheesh, so much drama over a stupid blade. “If you must know, I couldn’t find a paring knife, and I sort of wished I had something, even a dagger, and this thing just appeared in my hand. Ugh, I know, it’s an implausible story, but it damn well happened,” she ended defensively.

“Where did you first take it?” He sounded strangled as he set his goblet on the table.

What was with all the interrogation, as if she’d stolen the damn thing? “I didn’t steal it, okay? The night those demons attacked us, I saw one just like this in your truck and used it, only I dropped it in the alley afterwards.”

His color drained. Dagan lowered his head, his fists planted on the table, his hair cascading down to spill onto the wooden surface. She had to clench her fists to stop from reaching out and sliding her fingers through the black silk. Instead, she scooped the peelings onto a plate.

“What is that enticing smell?”

At the strange new voice, Shae glanced at the man sauntering into the kitchen wearing faded jeans. Tall, like all the other Guardians, he sported a buzz cut that left a brown shadow over his skull. An array of ink peeked out from beneath the neckline of his t-shirt, and more ran down his muscular arms. He sniffed appreciatively, his cool gaze settling on her. “Well, now, D-man, you didn’t say we had a guest?”

Dagan didn’t move, didn’t answer the man, who then shrugged and said, “I go by Nik.”

“Shae Ion. I’m grilling steaks. It’s all you had here. Those and some sorry-looking potatoes.”

He grinned, revealing a single sexy dimple on his left cheek, yet the smile didn’t reach his pale green eyes, a startling contrast to his olive skin. While Dagan was a loner, appeared cold, and annoyed her like no one ever had, there was heat in him regardless. This guy, outside of his air of indifference, seemed to possess an innate coldness—a darkness—as if it seeped from his very soul.

“Right.” Nik ran a hand over his buzz cut. “We have things here. Not so good in the cooking department. We usually throw meat on the burner. But there is food. I’ll show you.”

He strolled past her, the air suddenly so frosty it hurt to breathe. Her teeth clattered, and she rubbed the goosebumps on her arms.

“Cut the shit, Nik,” Dagan muttered.

Instantly, the temperature rose, became bearable once more. More baffled than ever, Shae followed Nik. Obviously, he was another Guardian, because, amidst the myriad of inkwork, he too sported that familiar sword tattoo on his biceps.

Nik walked out through a side door into a back courtyard and over to a small building attached to the main one. A huge fridge and freezer took up space, along with shelves of unopened spices.

“I need vegetables.”

Cold, green eyes looked up from the fridge he’d opened, his arm resting on the door top. “Yeah, we don’t eat those, but you can get them in the village. There’s more meat in here.”

He snagged a soda, popped the tab, and took a swallow, revealing his tongue piercing. But that wasn’t what caught her attention. He sported a snakehead tattoo right on his neck.

Uh, why would anyone want a creepy reptile inked on them?

“Fine.” She stomped back to the kitchen. Dagan lifted his head, watching her with a strange glitter in his citrine eyes.

“I need to go to the village. Besides the veggies, I need my glucose.”

Slowly, he straightened, like a panther unwinding after a long winter’s sleep, his gaze never leaving hers. “Nik, save food for her. We’ll be back.”

“You could just take her out, you know, and leave all this for us,” Nik retorted, munching a chip.

Dagan cut him a hard look. Nik lifted his hands in surrender. “Fine. Shae, maybe you can sweeten that mood of his? Three and a half thousand years is a mite too long to brood.”

Dagan grasped her hand and tugged her through the living room and out onto the courtyard. “Wait.” She stopped him. “Maybe I should try and teleport again?”

“You won’t. Not if you don’t want those scourges tracking you.”

“But how would they know? Even I had no idea what I was capable of until the demon attack.”

His eyes narrowed. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to remind him of that.

“They know your scent—your power will always carry a hint of it. If they get a trace of your psychic vibe, they’ll find you. You are not to use that ability until the threat to you is gone.” When she said nothing, his grip tightened on her hand. “I need your promise.”

“Fine, all right.” Unless we’re in danger, then all bets are off.

With a terse nod, he dematerialized them and reformed in a copse of trees moments later. When her heart settled into its regular rhythm, they walked out into a picturesque world. The afternoon sun cast a soft glow over the little village.

She squinted, examining the quaint stores with flower-filled windowsills lining the cobblestone streets that had actual streetlamps—dark, wrought-iron pillars with glass encasing the bulbs. “Oh, so pretty…”

She spun back to Dagan and found him slipping on dark sunshades. Her breath caught. Damn man was too irresistible for his own good. But she didn’t like his eyes concealed because then she couldn’t read him…well, when he let her see his emotions—which mostly appeared to be irritation at her.

Shutting away that thought, she asked, “Will you bring me back to look around?”

“We’re not here on a sightseeing trip,” he said, tone curt. “You forget, your life’s in danger. If those after you do happen to trace you to this place, anyone who lives here could relay that they’d seen a new face around. This is a small village.”

All she wanted was to forget her shitty life for a short while. Was that too much to ask? Still, she glanced warily around her. “There are demoniis here, too?”

“Occasionally, but in the city, yes. The poor slum areas are rife with them. But there are demons who dwell here.”

The village was really charming, and it possessed a peace about it that she sorely needed. Since she couldn’t explore, she stood there for a second, absorbing the tranquility.

“So, where exactly are we?” she asked. “I know you said Romania.”

“At the foot of the Apuseni Mountains.”

At his terse tone, she glanced back. Jesus, but the man appeared like a coiled spring about to snap. She couldn’t resist. “So you brought me to Dracula’s country—vamp territory?”

His mouth tightened. “Vampire’s don’t exist. Not on this realm anyway. Count Vlad Dracul was human and named The Impaler for his bloodthirsty habit of impaling his enemies on stakes in the ground and leaving them to die. Now, are you going to question me on the damn history of this place or go get your glucose?”