Feral eased the bruised skin over his wrists as the two guards disappeared down the corridor like ferrets down a rabbit hole. He eyed Talven, accepting his blades from the fae’s outstretched hand. “So, what made you decide to grow a pair?”

Feral leaned against the wall for support as he slid them over his knuckles. His body might be able to heal itself faster than other species, but it came at a price. Energy. He and the other warriors burned through enough of the stuff to power a small city block and needed to feed daily. Trouble was, Feral was going on two days now without blood and it was beginning to show.

The fae shrugged, busying himself with his own sword hilt.

“I can’t bury my head in the sand anymore. You’re right. Someone has to stop her. We have to stop her.” He looked up, the misery in his blue eyes making Feral really feel for the poor bastard.

“You love her, don’t you?”

Talven nodded and then laughed bitterly. “Yes and no. I used to, but she was someone different back then,” he shrugged at the admission. “I guess I never got out of the habit.”

Feral nodded but kept his head down as he rolled his shoulder. Anything to disguise how shitty he felt. He knew all about unrequited love from his semi-obsession with Vixen.

“Hey, you okay? You look sort of pale there,” Talven asked suddenly.

Feral shook his head. He didn’t like to show weakness to anyone, but the fae knight carried on. “You need blood, don’t you?”

Cat out of the bag, Feral sighed and nodded. There was no point in denying it. Talven had released him, so in Feral’s mind that meant he could trust the guy. At least a little.

“Been too busy running from our little pixie friends and I wasn’t going to feed from Tessa. She was already exhausted,” he said. “Let’s just say other donors have been in short supply recently.”

“Can you metabolize fae blood?” the knight demanded as he started to strip off his neck guard.

“I can…but I can’t feed from you, man. You’re going to need all your strength when we go back in there. We can’t wait for backup. I’ll be fine,” Feral insisted, pushing himself upright with the aid of the wall. “We need to move, and move now.”

He turned, intent on heading back up the corridor and storming the hall alone if he had to, but Talven stopped him with a hard hand on his chest.

“We need you at full strength,” the fae argued, his blue eyes direct. “Think about it. Ilia knows every trick I’ve got. She’s watched me train for years. Nothing I do is going to surprise her. But you, you’re the unknown quantity. She’s going to have no idea what moves you’re going to pull next…” he trailed off for a moment, emotions of regret, resignation and despair flitting across his face. “And if we win, I won’t be able to kill her. We need you at full strength. You have to kill her.”

Feral looked at him with admiration. It was a hell of an admission, and it had to have cost the guy a shedload of pride to admit it. There wasn’t much he could say to that. Nodding, he placed his hand on the knight’s shoulder, squeezing slightly—a gesture of understanding and solidarity.

“Cover your neck, man. I can’t take blood from you there.”

Talven paused, confusion on his face.

“Taking from the neck is…” Feral paused, looking for the right words, “…it’s too personal. Part of our courtship rituals,” he explained. “And sorry, mate, I just don’t swing that way. Give me your wrist instead.”

“Oh, thank god! No, I don’t either.” Talven’s pale skin flushed scarlet as he extended his arm, visibly grateful he didn’t have to offer Feral his neck.

Feral grasped the offered wrist in a “no nonsense” grip, his fangs aching to descend as he readied himself for feeding. He ignored the need for a moment. He needed to warn Talven first, and a mouthful of fang tended to make speaking a little difficult.

“This is going to hurt,” he said, knowing there really wasn’t any other way. Well, there was, but he wasn’t going to embarrass either of them by going down that route.

“I thought vampires could null the pain?” the fae asked, quickly adding, “not that a little pain bothers me…just curious.”

Feral’s lips quirked, recognizing the typical male cover-up as he pushed the fabric back from Talven’s wrist, bending the hand back to reveal the tender flesh on the inside. Veins beat strongly, just visible under the skin. Feral’s mouth watered, an instinctive reaction to the source of sustenance so close.

“We can, but back to the neck point, it’s all about sex. I’d explain further but I don’t think either of us needs those visuals,” he commented, his thumb sweeping over the skin as he picked his spot. “I’ll make this as quick as possible,” he said and struck.

His fangs pierced the skin, sinking through the barrier with the ease of a hot knife slicing through butter. Blood—hot, sweet tasting blood—filled his mouth in a rush and he moaned. He swallowed, the powerful muscles of his throat working strongly. Relief filled him as the blood hit his system like a bullet.

Strength surged through him, easing the weariness in his limbs and making him feel as though he’d had about a week’s sleep and several good meals all rolled into one. The power in it, the magic that all fae carried within themselves, headed straight for his head like a shot of good vodka.

Feeling Talven’s arm start to tremble, Feral carefully withdrew his fangs, aware that the fae’s mind wasn’t clouded and he could feel all of this. He paused. A quick pass of his tongue stopped the bleeding and sealed the broken flesh.

Talven sighed in relief, pulling his arm back against his body and rubbing the abused skin.

“Okay,” he laughed shakily, “you were right. That really hurt!”

“Sorry, man,” Feral apologized. “No other way. You’re not human so the weakness should pass in a moment. I didn’t take enough to compromise you.”

As he watched, the color returned to Talven’s face and the shakes in his hand disappeared. Feral blinked in surprise. He knew fae could recover fast, but that was impressive. And handy given what they were about to face.

“You good?” he asked, grinning at Talven’s quick shoulder roll and the look of determination that washed over his face. He might have been Ilia’s lapdog for centuries, but Feral knew a man with a purpose when he saw him.

“I’m good,” Talven nodded, gripping his blade. “Now let’s go and stop this bitch before she triggers the end of the world.”

* * *

Oh god, this can’t be happening. Tessa watched helplessly as Feral was dragged away, held motionless by the cruel grip around her jaw. Belatedly, she remembered she had a voice, yelling and screaming for all she was worth and trying to get someone’s attention. Her rebellion was short-lived as Ilia increased the pressure on her throat until she saw stars.

“Shut. Up,” the corrupt princess hissed in her ear. “The place is spelled. No one can hear you. And you’re giving me a headache.”

Tessa sank to her knees as Ilia released her, gasping for breath while she smoothed her hand over her throat, still able to feel the imprint of Ilia’s grip clamped there.

“Get her on the table with the brat,” the princess ordered, her voice hard as she sauntered toward a cloth-covered table in the middle of the hall. She flicked the fabric off and let it flutter unheeded to the floor. Covered, the table had been innocuous enough, but now, uncovered, the emotions that rose from it were vile enough to turn Tessa’s stomach.

Lust, terror, greed and excitement all rose from it in a cacophony of emotion that was overwhelming, even for a part-fae like Tessa. And if she felt ill, with her human half adding an insensitive shield, she had no clue how the full-blooded fae in the room dealt with it. A quick glance at the nearest one, a male sidhe wearing the armor of one of Ilia’s knights, revealed a clenched jaw and hollow eyes as he looked down at her. Tessa shivered. No help there.

Ilia though, seemed unaffected. Or worse, she seemed to revel in the dark emotions that rose from the table. Her slender hand smoothed across the darkly stained surface in a caress. Stains Tessa didn’t need a vampire’s affinity with blood to work out what they were.

People had died on that table. People would die on that table, her and the baby among them.

“No! No!” she screamed as hard hands reached for her, but it was no use. Several moments later, she was bundled onto the bloodstained surface, all her struggles counting for nothing against the strength of Ilia’s hollow-eyed guards.

“You can’t do this. He’s just a baby! What kind of sick bitch are you?” Tessa demanded, struggling as the straps were tightened over her wrists and thighs. She watched helplessly while they brought the baby boy over, laying him down next to her. His terrified whimpers eased as if he recognized her scent—calming down, she assumed, because he was near someone he trusted.

“Shut up and behave, or it’ll go harder on you.” Ilia’s eyes flashed fire, as she unrolled a scroll.

Tessa laughed, the sound rolling around the cavernous hall.

“Behave or it’ll go harder on me? Oh, that’s a good one,” she laughed again, disdain in her voice. “So… you have to tell me. Just how is this going to get harder on me? You’re going to kill me! It doesn’t get much harder than that, you stupid bitch!”

Ilia’s eyes narrowed as anger flashed in their depths. “You’ll pay for that, really pay for that. No one insults me in my own hall. I’ll make you suffer and your flesh will taste all the sweeter.”

“I hope I give you fucking food poisoning!” Tessa spat and threw her weight against her bonds again. They were so tight she was beginning to lose the feeling in her legs. Which could be a blessing, or a curse, depending on which way she looked at it. She closed her eyes for a moment, really hoping this was just a bad dream. Any moment, she’d wake up on the couch in her sister’s apartment, the movie over and her ice cream melted into a puddle in the tub.

Tears welled in her eyes, one sliding from beneath her lashes to blaze a hot trail down the side of her face. It was hopeless. Despair flooded her. She couldn’t even save herself, much less help anyone else. Feral was probably already dead, and she hadn’t been able to save him.

Pain lanced through her heart, stealing her breath. The idea of the huge kyn dead shattered her in ways she hadn’t imagined, leaving a big, ragged hole where her heart was. He was gone, she’d never see him again, and she hadn’t even had chance to tell him how she felt. Hadn’t had chance to tell him…

That she loved him.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as her breath whispered out over her lips on a soft sigh. There it was, the truth she’d been avoiding thinking about since she’d opened the door to find him on her doorstep. She’d always laughed at her mother’s total belief in love at first sight but hadn’t realized it when it had happened to her.

She loved Feral.

Warmth spread out from her heart through the center of her chest and then through her body. She loved everything about him, from his big, muscled body to the gentle way he handled the baby. A whimper escaped her, her heart breaking even as she recognized the love there. He’d have made a wonderful father.

Now he wouldn’t have the chance. No one would have the chance to do anything. A tear rolled down her face. She wouldn’t get to be with Feral, to grow old loving him, and the baby wouldn’t get to grow up, fall in love and marry either… He’d never fulfill his destiny as the Winter King.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, shifting in her bonds to look at the baby lying next to her. In the background, Ilia began to chant—dark, guttural words that struck fear into Tessa’s heart.

She shut the sound out, concentrating on the little boy next to her, straining so she could touch him. Just one touch, a brush of his fingers. A small comfort to take into the darkness that was coming. Whether it was a comfort for the baby or for her, Tessa wasn’t sure.

Just a little more. Her whole body tensed with the effort as Tessa pushed against the heavy strap around her wrist, fanning her fingers out until her fingertips brushed his leg. The swiftest touch, over almost before Tessa realized she’d managed it. She relaxed, a sense of peace stealing over her as she looked into the baby’s eyes. Eyes that suddenly seemed too old…like something ancient looked out of them.

Unbidden, an image rose in Tessa’s mind. That of a tall man dressed in black, his pink hair cut short and spiky, the color bright in the darkness of an alley. He moved as though hunting something, an edge of danger surrounding him, and then he froze and looked around, frowning. Suddenly, he seemed to become aware of Tessa’s “presence” and turned toward her, his fists snapping up. The light glinted on the blades across his knuckles, the same sort Feral used. He smiled, easy charm in every line of his body. Then, with a wink, he was gone into the darkness in a swirl of a long leather coat.

Tessa gasped as she slammed back to reality, blinking at him. He smiled slowly at her and the old look faded from his eyes. Shock coursed through her. It had to be a glimpse of the future, of the man he would turn out to be. The man he would become, which meant somehow, he would survive this…and she’d been shown to give her hope.

She smiled, mouthing “thank you” and he giggled, wriggling next to her in that cute way babies had. The skin on her wrist itched and she looked down with a frown. Perhaps she’d rubbed it raw on the straps as she’d tried to touch him?

But the skin wasn’t red or broken. Instead, there were marks there, like a tattoo of vines encircling the wrist. She frowned, turning her arm this way and that to study them. Was it something from Ilia’s spell… but it didn’t feel wrong, unlike the words in the air around her. The design on her skin looked and felt right. But where had it come from?

Ilia’s voice rose, triumph filling the unintelligible words as she reached a crescendo. The last words reverberated around the hall in a way Tessa knew. Words of power, they were used to close a spell. An evil smile crossed the princess’ features as she reached for the baby.

Before her hands could close on his small body, the doors behind her crashed open. The two women jumped, their heads jerking around as the wood slammed into the walls and splintered, more kindling now than the elegant doors they had just been.

A tall figure filled the ruined entrance, his massive frame taut with the promise of violence and dark retribution in his eyes.

“Get away from them,” Feral snarled, fangs visible even at this distance, enhancing the sneer on his handsome face. “You want to take pieces out of someone, you come pick on someone your own size, bitch.”

* * *

The look of surprise on Ilia’s face almost made Feral laugh aloud. It was a look that swiftly descended into annoyance as Talven stepped into the hall behind him.

Oh, honey, I’d be a little more than irritated if I were you, Feral thought, as he eyed her intently. I’d be running for my life. But she wasn’t running. She merely hissed—a look of frustration on her face as she dropped the scroll onto the table next to the two forms trussed up there.

Tessa and the baby. Feral’s gaze swept over them to make sure they were breathing. They were and he immediately shifted his focus back to Ilia. He couldn’t allow himself the luxury of anything more, even though all he wanted to do was rush over there and free Tessa, taking her into his arms and never letting her go.

“I shall deal with you later, Talven,” the princess snapped imperiously. “You have overstepped your bounds this time and there will have to be…repercussions.”

“You’ll be dealing with me first, darling,” Feral growled, shifting to a guard position and beckoning her on. He watched her every move like a hawk.

“That is, unless you don’t have the balls for it…” His hard gaze racked her feminine figure, obvious in the flowing dress. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

“Insolent creature!” she hissed. “How dare you speak to me, a fae princess, in that way? You will pay, and pay dearly for this insult.”

Feral lifted an eyebrow and chuckled, the sound rich with amusement.

“Sweetheart, you lost all claim to any kind of respect the instant you made a deal with whatever kind of critter lent you all that power. Because one thing’s for sure, it ain’t fae. So, come on, you going to dance with me…or does it only get your rocks off when your victims are strapped down?” he challenged, an arrogant tilt to his head as he baited her.

It was a dangerous thing to do. Borrowed power or not, she was still a threat and he knew it. But all he had to do was keep Miss High and Mighty here occupied long enough for Talven to get to Tessa and the baby. They’d deal with the rest later.

She snarled at him, revealing her teeth for the first time. Unlike Feral’s fangs, they were crowded haphazardly into her mouth, jagged and darkly stained. Not the dental equipment she’d started life with for sure, but classic for a flesh eater. Feral wrinkled his nose as she circled him, a sword appearing in her hand as if from nowhere.

“I’d consider getting a refund on your dental policy if I were you. That look does nothing for your romantic chances,” he taunted, the glimpse giving him a good idea of just what sort of demon she’d sold her soul to.

She ignored the comment, circling him with intent. The sword in her hand flashed out, checking his defenses, undoubtedly looking for an opening. Feral smiled, countering each attack easily. If she thought it was going to be that simple, she was very much mistaken. He might have been taken down easily before, but that had been against multiple opponents and when he was blood-starved.

Now though, it was one on one, and he had a bellyful of fresh blood. Fae blood. The power hummed through him, making him faster and stronger than he could ever recall. Oh yeah, I could get used to this. He turned another of her attacks, sliding one of his blades down hers with a screech and winking at her as she snatched it back.

“Got to be quicker than that, sweetheart,” he chided her, as though this were a friendly match between colleagues.

Her face flushed with rage. “You’ll sing sweetly for me, vampire,” she hissed, “a sweet song as I carve chunks out of your living flesh.”

Feral shivered dramatically, circling her. “Oh, baby, you’re getting me all hot under the collar. Bring it on…” he taunted, seeing how far he could push her before she snapped and lost her temper.

And when she did that, it was game over. A person couldn’t win a sword fight if emotions ruled. Not unless they were either really good, or really lucky. Usually, they just got really dead.

Dimly aware of the hall filling up, Feral kept his eyes on the woman in front of him. It was between the two of them now. The rest of the world would have to wait to get a piece of him until after he’d taken the bitch down. With her skirts flying around her dramatically, a useless bit of magic that made him smile, and with the look of rage on her face, she looked like a dark goddess of battle. Illusion wouldn’t help her win against him. He dealt in reality and brutal violence every night out on the streets, a place where solid combat skills and stamina beat fancy tricks and ego every time.

“Oh, I will,” she promised, lashing out again and forcing him back with a complex set of moves. Begrudgingly, he had to admire her skill with the weapon, especially when she landed a cut on his upper arm. Her blade just kissed his skin, delicately parting it to allow the blood to well, oozing sluggishly down his arm.

“You can’t beat me!” she told him, arrogance in her voice as her nostrils flared. Her eyes flicked from the blood on his arm to his face and back again, her small pink tongue flicking out to lick her lips. He knew the craving. Oh yeah, she had it bad.

“I mean, how can you?” she carried on. “How can a mere vampire compete with me? I’ve eaten demon flesh, absorbed their power, and soon, I’ll be a goddess!”

Feral didn’t reply, moving like lightning as he spotted the gap he’d been waiting for. His blades crashed into hers in a complicated overhand movement, flicking her blade from her grasp with ease. Not giving her a chance to react, he spun her in his arms. One large hand engulfed her forehead, pulling her head back and exposing her neck.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I was born a demon,” he whispered, his breath kissing the side of her throat.

Then he tore it out.

Silence descended on the hall, all eyes on Feral and the tiny figure in his hold. She drew in a breath, a ragged wheeze that bubbled in the blood gushing from her ruined throat. The red tide flowed down the white gown, staining it scarlet in seconds. He released his hold, letting her drop to his feet like a ragdoll as he spat out the blood and flesh in his mouth and wiped his lips. The ultimate insult from a vampire.

Ignoring her frantic scrambling to try and stop the bleeding, Feral turned on his heel, joining Talven at the table to release Tessa. Dropping his blades on the table next to her, his strong hands made short work of the buckles. As soon as the last strap slithered free, he pulled her into his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured, burying his face into her hair and breathing in her scent as a shudder of relief went through his big body. Pulling back a little, he hooked a finger under her chin to look deep into her eyes, seeking answers to questions he didn’t know how to ask. What he saw there made him smile, his head bending to claim her lips in a searing kiss that said far more than words ever could.

She was his. She always would be, and anyone who said otherwise could go get fucked.

Lifting his head, he looked down at her, memorizing every detail of her beautiful face. Tears ran down her cheeks and he bent his head to kiss them away, not caring about the other people in the room. All that mattered was her.

“Be mine,” he murmured against her lips. “I don’t care about anything else. Just you.”

“Yes. Oh, god, yes.” Her soft whisper and small nod were all he needed and he claimed her lips in triumph, parting them with a hard tongue to drive inside and taste her sweetness. By the time he lifted his head, her cheeks were flushed and she clung to his wrists where he cupped her face.

His gaze dropped to her hands and froze. There were marks around her delicate wrists, ones he’d never thought he’d ever see. Kyn bond marks.

“Tessa…” he began carefully, rubbing his thumb over them as he tried not to let hope expand in his chest. It didn’t work, but he kept his gaze on hers. “When did these appear?”

“When I realized how I felt about you. When I…” Her voice cracked, fresh tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. “When I thought you were dead and I’d never see you again.”

“How you felt about me?” he asked, reaching up to stroke his thumb down her cheek. She was his bond-mate, her words confirmed it, but he wanted more. He wanted confirmation. “How do you feel about me?”

“I love you.” She bit her lip, looking up at him openly and honestly. “I have since the moment I opened the door to find you standing there with a baby. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

“Thank the goddess,” he breathed, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. “Those are bond marks, my love. They mean you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“They do?” she whispered, nestled to his chest, her smaller body sheltered against his. “Does that mean…”

He smiled, kissing the top of her head.

“I love you, Tessa, with all my heart.”