Shae froze, knife poised against the potato in her hand.

Damn his mind games. She glowered at Dagan as he killed his half-smoked cigar on his heel. “Lie all you want, you’re still not getting the blade back.”

But his words rattled inside her skull: It now belongs to you. When he continued to simply stare at her, uneasiness took hold. “You’re crazy.”

Mate? As if.

He rose to his feet, pushed his cigar into his pocket, and crossed to her. Removing the dagger from her hand, he tossed it onto the table, grasped her wrist, and hauled her along with him like she’d forgotten how to walk. “Damn it, Dagan,” she snapped, a little unsettled. “You could just ask instead of dragging me all over the place.”

“Would you have come?”

“No.”

“Then my way works.” He stopped in the middle of the lounge and faced her, those yellow eyes searing her like a flame. “Summon the dagger. Use your mind.”

“Why?”

“Because only my mate can do so.”

“You’re crazy. I’m not playing these games with you.” She headed for the kitchen. But recalling how the thing had appeared in her hand earlier, a chill slid through her.

“Scared?”

At his softly uttered taunt, she spun back and met his challenging stare. “You’re making up this drivel to drive me mad.”

“Then let’s find out. Summon the dagger, Shae.”

Sheesh, he wasn’t going to let this go. Besides, with that soft order, she had no other recourse. Fine, she’d do it, if only to give the lie to his stupid allegations.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the weapon lying on the old, wooden table. Black. Harmless now. She willed it to her. The next instant, something cool took shape in her palm. Shae jumped back, the air vacating her lungs.

No. No way! This isn’t happening.

She inhaled harshly, whispered, “I drew rats to me, it’s the same thing.”

“They probably saw you as one big pile of delectable human cheese.”

Now he found his sense of humor? She cut him an annoyed glare. “Ha, ha—funny. We are not mates. I don’t even like you.”

For a second, his eyes blazed with an intense emotion. Then he shrugged like he didn’t really care what she thought of him, wiping away that illusion.

“Good. Then this should be easy to do. You’ll be fine as long as we don’t mate and soul-join. So, little hellcat, refrain from provoking me, because every time you open your mouth, all I think of is stripping you naked and licking you from lips to toes before fucking you into surrender. But I’m sure you don’t want the ties.”

Her eyes widened. The erotic images so vivid in her mind, she swore she could actually feel his tongue slowly licking a trail down her tummy to between her…she inhaled sharply. Her face on fire, she retorted, “You’re absolutely right, I don’t. But thanks for the heads-up.”

His lips took on a sardonic twist, like he knew something she didn’t, which just irritated her more. She scowled. He smiled, revealing the tips of his…fangs?

What the hell? “What-what are you?”

The smile faded. “You’re a clever girl, figure it out.”

He definitely wasn’t a demon. His irises didn’t have that hint of red like Harvey’s sometimes did…wait! The night outside The Tower, it hadn’t been her imagination; she did see the tinge of red in his eyes.

Her gaze flew to his mouth, but his lengthened incisors were no longer visible. She pressed her hand to her neck. “You’re a-a vamp…”

“…pire?” A dark eyebrow lifted. “If you want a tag, sure.”

“B-but you walk in sunlight?”

“Yeah, I’m remarkable that way.”

Ignoring his cynical retort, Shae glanced around, had no idea what she was looking for. Only knew deep down that she’d been prodding a really dangerous predator, one who could have torn her throat out in a heartbeat. She gulped.

“You’re afraid of me.”

Jesus, yes. But she never liked showing weakness. The thread of wariness dissipated like mist. “I’m not scared of you.”

Amusement lit his eyes as if he could see through her lie. Her gaze lowered back to his sensual mouth. Heck, she wanted to run her tongue along his lips, feel the tips of his fangs—ugh! This was entirely his fault for being so damn sexy that her mind kept sliding into the gutters.

Another image flowed into her mind. Intense yellow eyes locked with hers, a mouth on her neck, impossible desire heating her veins as he kissed…no…sucked her neck. And then she knew.

“You!” she sputtered. “You attacked me in the alley. You bit me and then took away my memories!” Furious, she hurled the dagger at him. His hand shot out and snatched the blade midair.

“I did not attack or bite you. If I had, trust me, you’d know. I had to get you to leave. It was a dangerous time. But you wouldn’t. It seemed the best way.”

That stopped her for a second. She’d been drawn to his pain and only wanted to help. But he hadn’t denied taking her memories. “Don’t ever do that again.”

He ran his thumb carelessly over the sharp edge of the dagger. “I won’t feed from you, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

Then he did consume blood. Jesus. Of course, he did. All her questions vanished. Something inside her shifted and made her belly churn. So who exactly?

“Then who?” the words were out before she could stop them.

His expression closed off. “That’s none of your business.”

Unexplained irritation swept through her at his dismissive answer.

It’s your fault. You told him you didn’t like him.

Yes, she’d said that—a slip of her tongue. Truth was, she did like him—hell, she’d been drawn to him from the moment she saw him in the club. His intensity and raw sexual magnetism wrapped around her like a silken web, tugging her closer and closer every time they were together.

Dagan strolled across to her, stopping only when a mere foot separated them. He smelled so good… sandalwood with a trace of cherry tobacco. His unreadable gaze drifted over her face and down to her collarbone. Frowning, he traced a fingertip gently over the scar running from her cheek to her neck.

“Your laptop accident?” he asked.

She nodded. Usually, the scar didn’t bother her, yet instinctively, she covered it with her hand, her bracelets jangling against each other.

“Don’t hide, Shae—” He grasped her wrist, then angled his head and studied the tattoo she had there. “What’s this?”

She pulled free and stepped back from his disturbing presence. “Decorative ink—a bunch of knots. Got it ‘cause it’s so pretty.”

At her tart response, his eyes narrowed, then he put the obsidian dagger in her palm and headed for the front door.

“Wait, where you are going?”

A hand on the doorjamb, he turned slightly. “To feed, of course. Unless you’re offering? But with that comes fucking. You ready for that, wildcat?”

Her mouth snapped shut.

“Thought not.” He walked out.

Shae stared at the empty doorway, his words ringing in her head, images crowding her mind of his mouth on her neck, his big body sliding over hers as his hardness moved inside her. Desire swept through her in a heat wave. God, she rubbed her face.

Restless, she wandered the length of the cracked corridor and back again. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she stopped at the coffee table and lowered on her knees to the cold floor. She collected the spilled cards and shuffled them, but her lone game of solitaire didn’t take away the churning in her stomach.

He was going to feed, have sex with some nameless, faceless woman.

* * *

Dagan rematerialized in the village as dusk crept into the area. If he remained with Shae, chances were high that he’d end up taking her right where she stood.

His crude words had put distaste on her face. Better he showed her what a barbarian he was, then maybe she would stay away from him, because his resistance had all the strength of fraying cotton. If their paths hadn’t crossed, he could have lived his empty existence.

The warriors all lived dangerous lives. Why the hell would Gaia do this to them?

When he’d first taken his oath to become a Guardian, she’d offered him an array of daggers.

Dagan had thought nothing of it, just picked one, and it had glowed. Hell, he’d been too steeped in a blood haze to care why. But a part of her words stayed with him: Your dagger is the embodiment of your one weakness…and something else, he couldn’t recall.

Now he knew. His weakness would be his downfall.

And Shae is.

Damn, he scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw in frustration then texted Hedori. Send Shae’s things over.

A response came back instantly. On it.

Dagan made his way into Club Samhain and dropped onto a barstool in the slowly filling bar. The bartender nodded and handed him his usual drink. Humans packed the place. Soon, the sounds of their heartbeats, the tempting rush of their blood flowing through their veins crowded his ears.

He drank deeply of his red wine, barely tasting the rich vintage, trying to shut off the sounds. His mind drifted back to his time in Tartarus.

One minute, he’d been fighting off vampiric vultures; the next, a whirlwind of impossible power had sucked him up and tossed him out into darkness—into this world, in the forest of the Tatra Mountains in Eastern Europe…and the horror that followed. Michael had finally found him after another bloody rampage, lying amidst the dead bodies and carnage…

“We will find a way out of this.” A dark-haired male—no, an angel—squatted beside him, his shattered irises glowing an eerie silvery blue.

“No,” Dagan rasped, his voice rusty from lack of use. “End this—end me. I cannot live like this.”

With a wave of his hand, the angel incinerated the bodies instead. Then he went motionless, eyes narrowing. “Trouble.”

The coppery scent of sweet nectar drifted to Dagan. The thirst, which never eased, stirred viciously again. His guilt forgotten, his fangs descended. He leaped up and took off like an arrow. The angel thundered after him.

Dagan faltered to a halt near a settlement, and froze at the massacre taking place.

Hysterical screams drenched the night air, along with guttural laughter. Human bodies were strewn on the blood-splattered ground. Except, he wasn’t responsible this time. Demoniis.

The angel dove into the melee. It barely registered that a few males in tattered clothes were already fighting evil. A demonii spun around, his eyes glowing like neon red orbs in the dark. “More food—immortal, too.”

He grabbed Dagan, his blood-soaked mouth snapping open and revealing an orifice of stained teeth and fangs. Dagan punched the evil in the face and clamped his mouth onto the demonii’s neck, his canines tearing through flesh and sinew. He gulped the thick plasma spilling free, and drank and drank. When the demonii stopped fighting and disintegrated into dust, he went after another...

His bloated stomach roiled. Bile rushed up his throat. Dagan stumbled through the forest, collapsing near a running stream. On his knees, he regurgitated all he’d drunk. Black blood.

He lowered his head to the flowing river and gulped water like an animal.

Vaguely, he recalled, demoniis were essentially dead, living off stolen human souls and blood. Then everything stilled, even the very air.

Dagan glanced to his side at the tall female standing on the riverbank. He blinked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered that she had hair like the sun, skin darker than his, and eyes the color of leaves. But it was the intricate green patterns running from her eyebrow down to her cheeks that held his attention…they looked like crawling green serpents.

She stared at him for a long moment before she spoke. “Arise, fallen warrior from the godly realm.”

There was a command behind those words, pushing through his dizzy mind. Dagan staggered to his feet as if he were inebriated. The angel with the broken eyes appeared at his side.

“I am Gaia. You’ve confronted the evil that has taken to pillaging my realm and, in your almost mortal state, you have vanquished them.” Those glowing green eyes held his. “Become the realm’s Guardian, and I will give you purpose. You will regain all powers. In time, you will find what you seek…”

Dagan stared at the wine warming between his palms. Sure, he’d regained his abilities and found a way to resist humans, but now he had to rely on Kaerys’ generosity to feed and recharge. He drained his liquor.

At the itch bearing down his back, he looked up. A young, tattooed human seated across the counter cast him a sultry stare.

He shoved to his feet and stalked outside. The sun had set. Night cloaked the village.

“There you are…”

At the slurring voice, Dagan cut an impatient look over his shoulder. Lust and liquor wafted off the horny human who’d followed him out. “You sure you want me? You’ll die.”

“As long as your cock’s inside me, I don’t care.”

Damn idiot was wasted, had no idea of the reality. Besides, he didn’t roll that way.

Willing him gone, Dagan headed deeper into the rundown alley, his mood in the crapper.

There was only one person he wanted, longed for. Just thinking of her and his body coiled tight with arousal. He couldn’t have her.

Hell, he was hurtling headlong toward a fatal collision, yet he couldn’t seem to slow down any more than he could stop breathing.

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, after a hunt in the nearby forest to satiate his hunger, Dagan took form in the monastery courtyard. As he made his way into the kitchen, Hedori turned from the fridge and shut the door. “I’m sorry about the delay, sire. I have left Shae’s things at your door since she sleeps. Oh, I’ve two containers of pies and cookies in the fridge, they’re ready to pop into the oven.”

Dagan nodded his thanks grateful at the Empyrean’s thoughtfulness.

“Wait,” he called out as Hedori headed for the door. “I need someone to stay here for the duration Shae resides, to see to things and keep her safe when I’m out on patrol. Not Eron. The old fool spends most of his time in the village chasing after the females. Get Angelus.”

“Certainly.” Hedori hesitated, then asked, “Did you pick up anything else when you went back to The Tower?”

“I found the scourge who shot Shae. Got rid of him.”

“That’s good to hear. I meant about her mother.”

Dagan frowned. “No…and Shae doesn’t speak much about it,” he said, taking the merlot from the shelf. “She only mentioned her mother had taken off a couple of months ago, wanted her own life.”

“She did?” Hedori’s brow creased in confusion. “It doesn’t make sense or tie in with the sadness and despair I felt in the penthouse.”

Dagan leaned against the counter and sipped his drink. “My thoughts, exactly. But I can’t do anything about it until I get back.”

“I can help out there. I’ll make inquiries and watch The Tower, see what turns up.” Hedori opened the outer door.

“Be careful.”

The older Empyrean inclined his head, a hard smile on his face, reminding Dagan that he hadn’t always been the amiable butler they saw daily—he’d been a protector. “Always am. You forget who’s been under my care for millennia. As vast and dangerous as his powers are, he could never evade or kill me—a gift, courtesy of the mage of Empyrea for protecting that intractable Empyrean sovereign. Though I thought it a curse in those earlier days. Burnt clothes, singed hair…” He shook his head wryly.

Dagan found a rare moment of amusement filling him at Hedori’s dry discourse about protecting a young Aethan. His smile faded. “If you find anything, call me. I don’t want you caught in the middle if this turns bad.”

Hedori’s lips thinned briefly. “Very well, sire.”

“And about that, it’s Dagan, D-man, or whatever the hell the others call me these days.”

“Barbarian?”

He scowled at the twinkle in the wiseass’ odd, orange-green eyes. “No.”

Laughing, Hedori walked out into the back courtyard when Dagan recalled something else he wanted to ask. He set the glass on the counter and hurried after him. “Hedori, wait.” He found a twig, and on the dusty ground, he roughly drew the knots with the open end he’d seen on Shae’s wrist. “Do you know what this symbol means?”

The Empyrean studied it. “I’m not sure, but I’ll find out. I’ll be in touch.”

After Hedori had left, Dagan collected Shae’s luggage and made his way to the last room. With a wave of his hand, he lit the taper on a dusty nightstand and set the case aside. The place was hardly habitable and covered with a layer of dust. Too tired to care, he shed his clothes, swiped the sheet off the bed, and dropped onto the mattress. The four tall bedposts loomed over him as if standing guard.

For as long as he could remember, his life had been that of a protector, first his mother and sister after his old man had taken off; then, when his sister became the Goddess of Life. And after being released from Tartarus, as Guardian of the human realm. Now, Shae.

At the thought, he threw his arm over his brow, a rough sigh escaping him. How the hell could he keep her safe from the worst danger she might face? She’d soon start to feel the pull of their mating bond, and it had tragedy written all over it.

A moan drifted to him…followed by clattering.

He lowered his arm. Frowning, Dagan pushed off the bed and, using the connecting door, entered his room. It was like stepping into an icebox. The windows stood open. With a thought, he shut them and crossed to the bed. Shae huddled beneath the thin cover, trembling. He never used anything when he slept, even in this high altitude and with the freezing temperatures at night. But she was human. Her teeth clacked together, forcing him to act.

He glanced down at himself. Naked would be asking for trouble. He got out sweats from his closet, pulled them on, then fed the dying embers in the fireplace more wood before heading to the bed. “Move over.”

She peered out from beneath the covers. “I-I’m okay.”

“Sure, you are.” He lifted the thin sheet. She wore a black t-shirt and sweats…his. Damn, he should have gotten her clothes, some damn warm pajamas at least, and she wouldn’t be freezing now. He got in and drew her close. She shuddered as her icy body slid alongside his. “You should have called me.”

She didn’t say anything, burrowing deeply into him as if searching for every bit of heat he possessed. He willed his warmth into her, stroking her back. As the shivering eased, her body loosened. Soon, a soft sigh caressed his skin as sleep took her over.

Or so he thought.

“Did you…feed?”

A sigh barreled out of him. “Go to sleep.”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

Her entire body went taut. She rolled away and curled up on the other end of the mattress.

“How the hell will you get warm on that side?”

She remained silent. He reached for her.

“Don’t.” She flung out a hand, stopping him.

Dagan glared at the ceiling. He should just go back to the other room, get some sleep. Then it hit him—his taunting her earlier. Hell, she thought he’d fed and fucked another woman, then came to her?

Scowling, he leaped off the bed. Sure, he could be an asshole at times, but he did have a few ethics he abided by. One of which was, he didn’t cheat, never had…unlike his old man.

He stalked around the bed and crouched at her side. A swathe of red hair covered her face. “If it eases your mind, I fed from an animal.”

She appeared so still, he was sure she’d stopped breathing. After a second, maybe several, she said, “You don’t have to explain. It’s none of my business what you do.”

“Then why ask?”

When she didn’t answer, frustrated to his eyeballs, he gritted out, “You’re shivering, and I won’t have you falling ill. It’s been a long damn night, so move over.”

When she stubbornly remained where she was, he picked her up, repositioned her, and lay down again. This time, he kept her locked at his side. She squirmed, trying to put space between them or probably wanting to leave and go find another bed. But her movements were having a serious effect on his body.

“For hellssake,” he snapped. “I swear by every damn star in the sky, you wriggle again, I’ll have you beneath me and my cock inside you in a heartbeat—is that what you want?”

She went utterly still.

Yeah, thought not.

Several minutes later, when she finally relaxed in sleep, her hand slid over his chest as if to keep him there. Yeah, right.

Dagan shut his eyes, his dick a throbbing ache between his thighs. Hell, he’d fucked-up spectacularly keeping her at a distance. He shouldn’t have bothered with an explanation. She didn’t believe him anyway.

Yet, in spite of what his brain theorized—it was safer this way—his heart overruled, wanting her.

The rhythmic thudding of her heart soon filled his ears, the gentle flow of blood in her veins a compelling lure. Fuck! He shut his eyes, trying to shut off the sounds as need wired his body to a razor’s edge.

To stop the endless torture, he untangled himself from her seductive warmth. Since the kind of release he longed for wasn’t going to happen, and he wasn’t interested in a hand job, he’d settle for a brutal workout.

Satisfied that she was warm and the burning logs would last for several hours, he left the room and jogged upstairs to Nik’s chamber. The warrior didn’t sleep. Ever. He lay sprawled on his bed in a freezing room more barren than his own, and still in his patrolling gear. An arm flung over his eyes.

“Nik”—he nudged his shoulder—“let’s go.”

“Fuck, Dag-man,” he grunted. “I just got in. Go annoy Race.”

Race was worse than all of them when it came to his solitude. He completely shunned everyone and rarely stayed at the monastery, preferring his mountainous caves.

Dagan dematerialized to the summit some distance from the monastery, determined to haul him out of his hidey-hole. As he took form, the brisk winds slapping his bare chest barely registered. There, on the plateau, he found Race, still in his patrolling gear, minus a shirt.

Despite the dark sky, the cold, pale moonlight emphasized the warrior’s flowing silver hair, broken only by the strip of black at the front. Brandishing curved twin blades, he moved with a deliberation that was as lethal as the steel of his dragon blades.

From the dying Lemurian pantheon, Eracier—aka Race—was one of the few of his kind left, and every bit as deadly as the black dragon warrior he’d been spawned from. He looked up and smirked. “Wanna play, Sumerian?”

Dagan didn’t respond to the taunt, summoning one of his many swords.

Race’s twin blades vanished, and a broadsword appeared in his left hand. He flew in the air, weapon swinging. Dagan lunged and countered. They spun around each other, slicing, blocking, and attacking.

“You’re in a mood,” Race grinned, revealing his own pointy canines. A deadly reminder that those fangs became a mouthful of deadly chompers when he shifted into his huge motherfucking alter ego.

“So…” An eyebrow cocked. “You found your mate, eh? I smell her on you.”

Dagan said nothing, anger, longing, and frustration roiling through him.

“Human then,” Race murmured. “Sure sucks. But let’s work that fury outta you. I’m in a mood myself.”

Dagan didn’t ask why. There was only one thing that drove Race—drove them all—these centuries since their release from Tartarus.

Revenge.