Xan stormed into her personal chamber. That horrid, arrogant demon.

She’d meant only to determine what tome he was reading and he’d called her stupid. No one but her own mama had insulted her as much.

“Other demons call us fear demons, but in your case, it’s true. That’s all your meager senses can read. I don’t know why I should claim such a stunning disappointment.”

She tried to shake off Mama’s criticisms, but damn. Quution’s dismissive attitude toward her abilities had brought them all rushing back. Though her kind were called fear demons, it was because of the emotion they inspired in their prey. They actually sensed the full spectrum of emotion. All the better to identify a weak point—and then brutally exploit it. Mama had been able to twist even the smallest, most benign thoughts and emotions into stark terror. But thanks to her weak half-breed powers, Xan could only ferret out a being’s weaknesses via fear, terror, or worry—emotions even a newborn fear demon could read.

Xan’s upper lip curled to reveal a fang. The tiny nubs wouldn’t strike fear in any creature in the underworld, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t ripped tracheas out with them. Well, only a few. Okay, one, but that particular demon hadn’t feared anything.

She might’ve been Mama’s biggest disappointment, but Mama had taught her how to fight.

Storming to her cavern, she thought of all the ways she’d love to wipe the smugness off Quution’s face. Grab his horns and swing her heels into his gut. Cover his clothes in centaur drool and light him on fire. Yank his fangs out with toothpicks.

Grab his face and lay a big, wet kiss on those full lips.

She ran a hand over her bare scalp. Her tumultuous thoughts couldn’t be trusted. She needed to sneak into the human realm and pump some iron.

After wiggling her fingers over the entrance to set her wards, she went to the far corner and tapped on a section of the wall that resembled granite. It slid open to reveal a chamber that had nothing but dust and enough air to keep her breathing. She stepped inside and shut the panel behind her. Dots of light snuck in through the uneven edges, enough to prevent suffocation.

She was surprised more demons weren’t killed upon their return from Earth. To get topside in the first place, a demon’s body left the realm and squatted in a human. That was all fine and dandy, except when they returned to the underworld, their body popped back into existence in the exact spot they’d left from. Unless that spot was well protected, the moment they returned the demon was as vulnerable as a candy beetle to anyone lying in wait. But demons weren’t known for their patience, and waiting for their prey to return to the realm—when it wasn’t known where exactly they’d appear—was boring.

She’d tried it a few times.

When she was home, the wards to her chamber alerted her if a demon tried to enter, but if she was gone when it happened, by the time she returned and opened her eyes, she could be shanked already. Or worse. But if they couldn’t find her, they couldn’t get the jump on her. The few years spent carving out the concealed closet had been worth it.

Smart demons hid themselves.

And she hadn’t known then that she’d be coerced into fighting for a position on the Circle. As if she’d ever wanted to herd feral, rabid cats. Now she watched her back more than she’d ever had in her life. No thanks. Isolation was how she preferred things. Except for her sister.

Xera was the exception to everything.

Settling on the floor, she regulated her breathing and concentrated. Her host was resistant, but never enough to block her. He’d willingly recited the incantation to allow her possession. No take backs.

Opening Marcus’s eyes, she gasped. A barbell with three massive weights on each side was primed above her head. She flinched and shoved upward. A guy who lived in Marcus’s building was spotting her, caught the bar and racked it.

“Marcus?” The man—what did Marcus call him?—Digger was coming around to peer at her. But while she was in control, Marcus’s eyes would be ink black.

She groaned at the stiffness in her bent arms. Why’d Marcus insist on killing himself in the gym? She gazed down at the chicken legs that were now hers to command. Would it hurt him to do some calf raises?

As a humanoid demon who lacked spikes, scales, or thorns, she relied on balance and agility to survive. The first time she’d controlled Marcus, she’d nearly tipped face-first into a pyramid of dumbbells. The guy was top-heavy, his biceps busting out of his sleeves. His chest was as round as a barrel and his abs rippled with an eight-pack. But then his thighs started the extreme taper that ended at his size fourteens.

“I’m fine.” Marcus’s rumble was always startling to hear at first instead of her own voice. “I have a headache. Gotta go.”

She left the weight area, ignored the bare asses in the locker room, and snagged Marcus’s keys. Before she left the gym to find his car, she sat on a bench and thumbed his phone on. Using voice commands, she looked up Nebula of the Marvel universe.

She frowned at the picture that came up of a petite, somewhat blue female with unusual markings and black eyes. “I look nothing like her.”

A guy at his locker with a towel slung over his waist turned around, his brow raised.

Xan shot him a glare. Easy to do. Perma-glare was Marcus’s default expression. But she couldn’t hold it or the guy would look too close at her eyes.

His gaze dropped to the phone. “You’re both bald, but she’s hot and you’re not.” He turned back to getting dressed, dropping his towel in the process.

Nice ass.

Argh. Why’d she have to find humanoid forms attractive? Tentacles didn’t do it for her and that was why she’d broken it off with Cremor. Then there was the male who had been supremely offended when she wouldn’t let him use either one of his horns as a sex toy. If her vagina hadn’t been purple before, it would’ve been afterward. What had his name been? And then there had been Zor. Scales just shouldn’t cover some body parts. When they’d parted, she’d told him there was some demoness out there with an armored vag for him.

She scrolled through more pictures. That human thought this creature was hot? What did Quution think?

She bared her teeth, but Marcus didn’t have fangs. Enough of this. She fisted his keys. She might not read, but over the centuries, she’d adapted. The current period was her favorite, and walking around as a big man in this realm meant she wasn’t bothered by anyone. Except for that one time someone had called the cops on her host for breaking into his own car when she’d locked the keys inside.

The drive to Marcus’s apartment was short. She kicked his tennies off and flopped on the couch. Air conditioning with no smell of rot.

A tingle vibrated over her being.

Fuck. Someone was at her wards.

Ugh, what if it was Spaeth? She’d better get back and answer him.

Time for the dreaded report to her boss. Marcus, fuel up. The body is yours now.

Quution tapped his finger against the tabletop. The sizzle of bacon from behind the counter teased his nose.

“Sure you don’t want some?” Stryke asked. His sunglasses were perched on the hat he wore to hide his own horns.

Quution shifted in the booth. He and Stryke were meeting at a diner that served breakfast twenty-four/seven, and Zoey had come along. His brother had ordered the bacon. So had every other patron in the place.

“No, thank you.” Fuck, yes.

He couldn’t eat that type of food in the underworld, and his host shouldn’t be eating it in any realm.

Two plates were slid in front of them. Stryke’s was loaded with sausage and bacon that he and Zoey would share. Quution’s had an egg white omelet with spinach. It looked unappetizing. The bacon smell sank into Quution’s pores until he thought he’d gnaw off his arm, but he only smiled politely as Stryke slid his plate in between him and Zoey.

Quution tracked Stryke as he lifted each piece to his lips, then followed his hand back down. Yes, that slice looked extra fatty. Quution’s mouth watered, and if he wasn’t careful, drool would run down his host’s chin. And it would be no different than when he tried to eat in his chamber.

Stryke tossed a piece in front him. “Just eat it. You look like you’re going to make love to my plate.”

Yes, well, Quution wouldn’t know where to start, would he? He speared the meat with his fork and managed not to moan when he bit off a chunk.

“You’re among family, Q,” Zoey said, her gaze still on her iPad while he caught up his brother. “You can eat it all in one bite and we won’t judge.”

Family. He’d reconnected with his brother, the murder attempt from the first time they’d met forgiven, and were now working together. To the rest of the underworld, Stryke was just Quution’s half-breed flunky, a common arrangement for full-bloods on the Circle, but they were more like partners.

“Thank you for the offer.” Quution finished his delicacy and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “But this host has atrocious cholesterol levels. His heart grunts each time it beats.”

His brother eyed him. They looked so similar, but no one would know it if they stood side by side while Quution was in disguise. Quution’s eyes were a lighter purple, his hair a darker brown. His horns resembled a fading sunset. They were similar in height and build, but with his platform shoes, Quution was taller, even though he purposely walked lopsided and had the backache to prove it.

“What?” Quution asked when Stryke didn’t look away.

“You’ve gotten more…proper.”

Quution dropped his voice. “I’m a demon.” He was in a host. He had to blend.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Stryke went back to his food. He shoved a morsel in his mouth and muttered, “But that atrocious getup you wear in the underworld helps.”

Yes, it did. But “more proper”? So what if he might act more formal lately. The vampires kept looking to him for answers to existential questions. Just the other night, Melody had come to him with worries about being Creed’s one and only. What if he has a true mate?

Creed had Melody for a mate. Why would fate give him another? Fate was logical. Beings were cruel.

Take his father, and how he’d pretended to be a full-blood and fooled the underworld. Until Stryke was born, threatening their sire’s secret.

Family didn’t mean the same thing to Quution. The way Zoey used the word indicated implicit trust, but while Quution trusted Stryke, he was in no hurry to strip down and strut around in his true form in front of anyone. He couldn’t even be in this realm as himself the way Stryke could. The furthest he’d ever gotten was projecting an image of himself, and that had drained his energy nearly dry.

“I think one of the full-bloods is on to me,” Quution said.

Stryke abandoned his food. How could he not finish each crumble of greasy meat? Had the accessibility of food that didn’t thrive in the cesspools of the underworld ruined Stryke? Quution’s stomach threatened to rumble. Zoey had better finish it or he would lick the plate, manners be damned.

“Is someone giving you trouble?” Stryke’s eyes flashed.

“Not trouble. Xan is snooping.”

Stryke frowned. “She’s the purple one, right?”

“Indeed.” Eggplant. The swirls of lighter shades streaking through her were never in the same exact spot. And they tended to shift with her moods. “I have not yet determined what she’s after.” But I will.

“Isn’t she a fear demon?” Stryke asked.

“That’s what they call her kind, yes.” He’d heard rumors they were more like empaths, but regardless, the underworld gave purple demons like her a wide berth. “I keep a tight lid on my feelings when she’s around. Yet she keeps coming around.”

“Maybe she’s into you?” Zoey wasn’t teasing. It was a valid conclusion to rule out. Quution had considered the fact for much longer than he cared to admit.

“She has a type. It’s not me.” His chest constricted at the words. No, Xan’s last few partners had resembled his brother more than Quution’s current appearance.

Not that he’d noticed.

Stryke nodded, as if it was easy to accept amour couldn’t be the reason. “Do you think they suspect you plan to form a ward between our realms?”

“Ward” was a weak word. It was to be an ironclad binding that would forever prevent total full-blood rule of the human realm. Full-bloods would no longer be able to barter and negotiate with human hosts, obliterating any hopes of taking over this realm.

And when it was all said and done and the dust of the underworld had settled, Quution would be up here, with his brother, living with people who weren’t trying to kill him and who he could actually converse with.

No, his plan would not be popular. Both realms would be protected. Humans would no longer be able to call demons to their bidding—usually getting tricked in the process. And demons would only have one realm to terrorize.

Stryke yanked him out of his own mind. “What are you going to do about Xan?”

Quution wondered that every day. “She’s one of the Circle. There’s not much I can do.” Just because they had both attained a spot on the Circle didn’t mean they treated each other as colleagues or equals. The Circle was full of backstabbing power mongers, even the half-breeds he’d maneuvered into place. Sharing power with twelve other demons just wasn’t natural. Demons were always plotting ways to manipulate the power structure, and that usually included killing another member to make room for their buddy, whom they’d also stab in the back for an advantageous outcome at a later date.

So it was a given that Xan was up to something. “But I’ll keep an eye on her.”

But he wouldn’t really watch her, or he’d go insane. He longed to trace the swirls of her long, graceful neck—with his tongue. Was her skin as soft as it looked?

He cleared his throat and turned his lust toward the greasy plate. Seriously, was Stryke not going to eat the crumbs?

Stryke ducked his head to catch Quution’s eye. “Why didn’t you just order the bacon?”

Because he was possessing another being. He didn’t need to contribute to the plaque in the man’s arteries. Quution scowled. “Fill me in while I eat.”

He dug into his bland omelet before it got too cold and lost what flavor there was. It was still better than the scavenger bugs roaming the underworld. Food was as close to heaven as a demon could get and even a blah omelet was better than a putrid beetle.

As Quution ate, Stryke filled him in, his voice pitched low. Eavesdroppers would only hear a murmur. “Demon possessions have skyrocketed. Now that the Synod is at full strength, it’s like the vampires opposing them and their regulations have launched into a last-ditch effort to take over the realm.”

Quution swallowed his mouthful. “That’s impossible.”

The entire circle would need to be in the realm at once. Finding hosts wasn’t easy, and getting thirteen demons to act in unison to recite the incantations that would allow them to take over the earth would be difficult at best.

They’d have to know the work-around, like he did. But even without it, they could disrupt the realm enough to cause problems for the Synod.

Stryke said his fears out loud. “Demetrius is afraid they’re running us ragged on purpose.”

“We’re all out almost every night,” Zoey added. “There’s no such thing as shifts. I think the full-bloods that have vampire hosts and the lower demons working for them are intentionally spreading us thin.”

Quution’s hand clenched his fork. In his own form, he would’ve warped the utensil. That was exactly what the demons were doing. Demetrius and his team were the vampires standing between the underworld and a hostile takeover of the human realm. Absurdly, there were plenty of vampires who despised Demetrius enough to side with demons and aid them. Of course the demons always lied about their true intentions and whether or not the vampires would end up enslaved with the rest or not. It didn’t matter. Those that plotted against Demetrius and the Synod only cared that he be destroyed in the process. Any perceived benefits were a bonus. The only species benefitting from a direct, unfiltered portal to the underworld was the demons.

“Are you close, Q?” Stryke barely mouthed the words. The risk was real. Quution was dangerously close to the top of the underworld’s most wanted list as it was.

“Yes. But it still requires several more hours of research.” He wouldn’t get a second chance to carry out his plans. “And I have three more specimens to obtain.”

His little work-around required a physical piece of each Circle member. Gathering the collection had consumed more time than he’d expected. Each time a changeup happened, it was out with the old, in with the new. Like the death of Spawn. His replacement on the Circle was Spaeth, and the radioactive bastard was hard to get to.

“We’ll give you as much time as we can,” Stryke said.

“But you need to hurry,” Zoey added, going back to catching up on the news. Quution took a good look at her. Fatigue weighed her shoulders down, and her usually steely eyes were more like dull lead. She’d be back to no-nonsense Zoey once she left the diner with Stryke, but for the moment her walls were down. She was scared for her people and working tirelessly to save them.

He needed to gather the information and items for the wards. Only, as he went back to picking at his flavorless breakfast, he couldn’t claim not to care about what happened to all the beings in the underworld once he sealed them in. One demon in particular stood out in his mind. And he couldn’t stop wondering what would happen to her.