He took Calla to his personal safe house—its existence unknown to the cognate—and dropped her off. He had several scattered around the world for when he needed to disappear. Either to avoid killing someone who'd annoyed him, to take a vacation from his public persona, or simply to sleep in peace without the weight of his cognate on his shoulders.

"Promise me you won't leave while I'm gone," he said, voice hard.

She looked at him, expression thoughtful. "Now why would I do that?" She settled onto a plush leather couch. "You're giving me what I want. And you will be rewarded, Mateo."

Mateo snorted, and left, returning to the main house, certain no one had seen them leave. He cracked the oak door to his sire's hall with the force of his vampyr powyr. It blazed before him in a cleansing wave, sending the lesser vampyrs to their knees as he approached. He flexed his hands, clenching and unclenching as he struggled to keep the change away from the surface of his face. He was no fledgling.

Estophen was bent over a twitching human, his long fangs sunk deep into the neck while his hands kneaded her breasts. She moaned with every pull of his mouth against her pulse, but her face was pale and her eyes fluttered weakly. Estophen drained her dry.

Mateo couldn't wait for him to finish. His powyr flared wildly around him, uncontrolled and aggressive. The restless, beast-like feeling inside him threw everything off kilter, destroyed his usual smooth control. His face hardened, ridges as hard as bone surfaced above his brow. His nails lengthened into claws, his eyes burned with bright powyr, and his fangs descended.

Estophen used the weak body of his meal as a shield against Mateo's powyr. The woman's clothes burned to ash and her skin tightened and cracked. She didn't bleed. She was already dead. His sire dropped her to the floor like trash.

Estophen's face was tight with fury. "You dare flaunt your powyr in front of me?"

Off to the far left, wisely out of range, Kragen laughed too loudly. "Now who's flashing his milk fangs?"

Mateo snarled. From the moment he'd found Kragen in Calla's bedroom, it had been rising like a monster unleashed. Something had snapped deep inside him and the fury burned and burned and burned. Kragen had dared enter his woman's room, had thought to touch her.

"Calla is mine." He hissed the words. "Why did you send Kragen?"

"I rule here. Your place isn't to question my commands—only to obey."

"Her contract is mine—she is mine." He stared at Estophen, face cold. Resolute. He'd made his choice. "The next vampyr who attempts to interfere with what is mine will fill my cup with his blood." The possession churning in his gut demanded nothing less. Calla was his. He shouldn't even be away from her now.

"You would betray us over a dragon?" Estophen snarled. "A female?"

Estophen's powyr rose, lashing out towards Mateo. Had he truly thought he could break with the cognate and not shed blood? He didn't want to kill Estophen. But Calla must not be harmed. The certainty of it solidified his intentions, hardened his resolve. He didn't understand why. It didn't matter why. It simply was.

He blocked Estophen's feign easily. "I don't want a war with you. But my time here is done."

"You think you can break with the cognate and live? I took you from the squalor you were in, raised you, gave a position at my side, and you think to betray me?" His sire laughed scornfully, but a note underneath sounded like fear.

Estophen must have been afraid. Mateo's powyr was strong, and the fury of his need to protect Calla strengthened it. Neither of them was sure what would happen in a direct confrontation—but Mateo was certain someone would die. Estophen couldn't afford the weakening even a single death among their members would cause.

"I don't seek to betray you." How was following a new path betrayal? The words were ash in his throat. He may have hoped, in the recesses of his mind, that Estophen would release him to be free the way a father might. But his sire wasn't his father.

"Then you will obey—and accept your punishment for your rebellion. I order you to release the First General to your brother."

Mateo laughed, voice hard. "No."

Estophen's flame surrounded him in chilly blue. "Then you will be the first vampyr to break a contract. You will sully the reputation of this cognate and my name. And you will pay with your life."

Mateo's powyr blazed. If this was how Estophen wanted it to end, then he would ensure the entire cognate burned—

"No!" Kragen strode forward, arm outstretched. He lowered himself to his knee in front of Estophen. "Sire, please reconsider. My brother is restless—confused. He has never taken a blood concubine and has never felt the headiness of pure desire. Indulge him in this, for now." Kragen cast a contemptuous scowl at Mateo. "All he needs is a taste of the pussy and he'll know it isn't worth it."

Mateo's eyes narrowed, though he held his powyr at the ready. What game was Kragen playing? Or was he fully aware that if Mateo and Estophen fought, he would be caught in the crossfire?

Estophen's arm slowly lowered. "Perhaps you are right, Kragen. We will give Mateo time to reflect on where his loyalties lie, knowing that when his mind has cleared from the scent of this female's blood, he will repent his rebellion. I don't seek to destroy my youngest son."

Mateo didn't care what either of them thought—didn't care what lies Estophen told to save face and avoid the confrontation. Calla was waiting for him, and if he didn't need to battle his way to her this day, then he wouldn't.

He lowered his head, not feeling an iota of subservience—but the show didn't bother him. "Sire."

The elder vampyr regarded him, expression stony. "The client has given us our orders, My Descent. Calla Andris is to be killed, her head delivered. Prove yourself to me, Mateo."

Mateo stared at his sire. This family, such that it was, had raised him, trained him, taught him everything he knew. He owed them more than his life, they had his undying loyalty.

But Calla…

He turned on his heels and strode out, Kragen's eyes on his back.

* * *

Nothing in the apartment could even scratch the bracers on her wrists. She tried prying them off, burning them, cutting into the joint. She tried blunt force, sharp knives, and almost dislocated one thumb just to slip through them. They were almost molded to her skin.

Calla thumped her head back on the wall and dropped the sledgehammer she'd found in the closet. She heaved to her feet, marched to the balcony, and climbed over the rail. Mateo had locked the front door on his way out but left the windows and sliding door accessible. Maybe he thought she wouldn't risk jumping without being able to shift. Calla scoffed. They were only four floors up and each level had offset balconies. She pushed off, imagining the fall was a powyr flight down towards her prey. She landed evenly, rolling the energy forward to save her knees from damage. Two floors. One floor.

Calla dropped to the sidewalk in front of a startled human who blinked at her, a cell phone in one hand. The human looked up at the balcony, back down to Calla, and seemed stunned. Calla moved on. She marched up the street, took the first left turn she could, and absorbed the massive city before her. Light blinked off walls of glass windows and the level of noise here was quite amazing. She smelled oil and gas, the distinct scent of human waste, and a corner vendor's hot tamales. It was a lot to take in. Her little island home was mostly undeveloped, full of wild places and green. This was… busy.

She walked two blocks before stopping a woman with dark skin and braids who looked friendly. "Excuse me," she said, a little chagrined at how she had to concentrate to speak English. "Where could I find a cheap phone?"

"You mean like a pre-paid?" The woman pointed across the street. The beads in her hair clinked together. "Any corner mart like that has 'em at the checkout."

"Perfect. Thank you!" Calla waved. She navigated the street, made it to the corner mart, and stepped out again with a slim, jointed device loaded with two-hundred minutes. She wasted no time dialing her office. Had no doubt it would be manned, had been manned 24/7 since her disappearance.

A female answered the phone with a growl. "This is a secured line for the First General of the Dragon Court of Patomas. Who the hell—"

"Leana, this is Calla."

"General!" There was some commotion on the other end of the line. "Thank the—" she cleared her voice. "Location, General?"

Calla marched briskly down the street, headed cardinally west. She wasn't sure where she was yet and this city seemed neverending. "I don't have time. Get Takoda on the line."

"Right. Yes, ma'am. Here he is—"

"Calla, are you in a secure location?"

"For now." Her tone was terse. "I haven't been compromised; this appears to be an assassination attempt—though one of the oddest I've ever witnessed."

"Not successful, I take it."

His dry voice would light an ocean on fire. Calla snorted. "No."

Mateo would be pissed when he found she was gone, unless she returned before he did. She paused, considering. What was her goal here? She could disappear now—he would have no choice but to hunt her, though she wasn't entirely worried about that. But she'd made him a promise, and she didn't lightly break her word. He would be a coup. And she continued to tell herself that was the only reason she considered returning into her 'captivity.'

"Do you need an extraction team?"

"No, but there's a complication." She explained the situation, and her braces, briefly.

"I don't like it. What's your location?"

Calla pursed her lips, some instinct warning her. She didn't know if there were spies in court… how had they known where to send Mateo to retrieve her? Paper blew across her path and she stepped on a page. The title drew her attention. "The LA Times?"

"Where?"

"Los Angeles," Calla repeated. "I'm in America."

There was another scuffle on the other end of the line. Then Takoda growled, "You're halfway across the world. We don't have anyone near you. Can you find a place to stay for a few nights?"

"Not a problem." She didn't mention she was going back to her 'captor.'

"Report when you—" Someone thrust Calla against a grimy building and yanked the phone from her ear. A clawed hand crushed it into fragments of plastic and dust.

Mateo leaned in close to her, smelling like fire. He growled, "Tag. You're it."

"Shit." Calla shoved him back, drawing on the inner strength of her dragon even if she couldn't shift, furious over the insult of slapping her phone out of her hand. She broke Mateo's hold and lunged for him, her shoulder down and fury lending her strength. She tackled him to the street and hissed in his face. She wanted to kiss him—one of the stupidest instincts she'd ever had. This whole situation was infuriatingly ridiculous, undignified. That he'd dared kidnap her, almost become complicit in her murder, and she wanted to kiss him.

No. No, she wanted to kick his ass. And when he rolled them over to pin her, she did so, twisting into his grip, grappling him to one side, and breaking free again. She punched him under the ribs, again nearer the kidney; her knuckles bruised with the force of it and unnatural wind whipped around them. Satisfaction soothed her soul. The boy couldn't get away scot free.

Mateo couldn't call on his vampyr unless he wanted to explain to the tabloids he'd been lying about being human. She had the upper hand and the room to take advantage of it. Finally.

A cascade of… something… tingled against her skin. Calla disengaged fast, putting several feet of distance between them. "Whatever spell that was, you can undo it right now."

"No," Mateo said, his voice more gravelly than usual. "I don't think so."

She stilled as the change came over his face, wary. He grew several inches, the fire in his eyes igniting, powyr brushing over her skin with the confident stroke of an old lover. He stopped the shift before his fangs descended and a note of disappointment settled in Calla's gut. She shook herself free of the thought.

Someone brushed into her shoulder as they walked by. No one seemed to care that a vampyr stood on the sidewalk. In fact, their eyes appeared to slide right off Mateo, some force of powyr turning their attention away.

Calla sneered but contained herself with a huff. If Mateo could use all his vampyr powyr in plain sight, there was no use fighting any further. She couldn't take him without her dragon. Much as she hated admitting it.

"You're coming with me."

"If I so choose," she replied coolly. His accent was different in the vampyr form, harder. More sibilant. She liked it. Calla repressed the urge to touch his skin and find out if the fire she smelled left him warm.

His eyes speared her. "There's a price on your head. And on mine. My sire said he would give me time—he's a liar."

Calla sighed. She'd wanted him to turn his back on the cognate. She supposed she was now responsible for the consequences.

"Just come with me for now, Calla. We'll figure this thing out—unless you just feel like a bloodbath."

She ignored the sarcasm, studying him. Mateo stood close to her, towered over her with vampyr-red eyes. Her body yearned for him. She couldn't trust it. Or him for that matter. "You're asking me to trust you."

"The way you asked me to trust you?" he shot back. "Besides, you gave your word."

Point, and game.

"The cognate isn't going to let my defection go without a fight." He offered his hand, relaxed, palm up. The claws of his vampyr were black and pointed. She watched them retract, the ridges on his face softened and smoothed, he became human again, though the fire in his eyes still burned like a comforting hearth. "You owe me, First General."

She did. Calla took his hand, ignoring how perfect it felt. She wanted to know more about Mateo Guerin, rock star and vampyr of the cognate. And he was familiar with this city. She needed a place to stay for now. It would work. "I accept your hospitality," she said. For now.

He smiled, and she tried not to let the expression steal her breath.