“He’s lying,” Hugh said flatly.

He hadn’t thought he could hate his father any more. He’d been wrong.

To brutally raise Ivy’s hopes like this, all in the hope of tricking her into taking his unicorn…even for his father, it was beyond cruel.

“I don’t think he is, Hugh.” Ivy twisted her gloved hands together, her face pale.

She’d been evasive and on edge all day, but he’d put that down to apprehension about the ball this evening. He knew how much she feared crowds. But now it was clear that something else had been on her mind. Something much worse.

“Your father showed me some documents from your family archives this afternoon, while you were busy working on Hope,” Ivy continued. “Stuff from the time of the third Earl. Private love letters, calling his wife my mate. And one single letter from a friend, thanking him for healing a relative. Written three years after the Earl married. Your father has evidence that supports his theory.”

“He has lies!” His fists clenched, as though he could physically fight the false hope rising, treacherously, in his own mind. “It’s a trick. Forgeries. It isn’t true. It can’t be true. He just wants an heir for his precious estate. He’d say anything to dupe me into providing one.”

“Hugh, he…” Ivy stopped, as if she’d thought better of whatever she’d been about to say. “Never mind. Look, forget about your dad for a minute. What does your unicorn say?”

He didn’t want to turn his attention inward, for fear of what he might find. Taking a deep breath, he made himself do it anyway.

Well? he said to his inner animal.

Its sapphire eyes were as steady as always. She is our mate. We are her mate.

“You bastard beast, that’s not an answer!” He realized that he’d roared the words out loud, and forced himself to moderate his voice. “Are we torturing ourselves for nothing? Is it true that you wouldn’t be destroyed if we mated? That I’d still be able to heal?”

The great head bowed. The light from its horn dimmed a little, like a cloud passing over the moon.

I do not know, his unicorn said softly. All I know is that she is our mate. Nothing else matters.

“It does!” Unable to restrain his frustration, he slammed a fist into the wall, caving a hole into a decorative plasterwork panel. “Damn you!”

“I take it that wasn’t a productive conversation,” Ivy said.

He shook out his hand, his knuckles stinging. “My mother is going to be bloody furious about that molding,” he muttered. “Workmen who can repair eighteenth century plasterwork are rare as unicorns.”

With a sigh, he sat down on the bed next to her, before he damaged any more irreplaceable architecture. “My animal’s no damn use whatsoever. As usual. What does your wyvern say?”

She went still, her green gaze focusing inward. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment.

“That we will never hurt you. Because you’re our mate.” She pulled a face, wrinkling her nose. “But this is the animal who wants to breathe acid over people who cut in front of me at the bus stop, so I wouldn’t count on it for good advice.”

“So we’re right back where we started. We only have my father’s word for it. And I can tell you how much that is worth.” He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his temples, trying to control the turmoil in his mind. “I can’t risk it, Ivy. I just can’t. If he’s wrong—if he’s lying—I’d lose everything. We’d lose everything.”

“I know.” She stared down at her knees. “I wasn’t sure if I should even tell you. But I didn’t want there to be secrets between us. I’m sorry.”

His anger leeched away at the stricken remorse in her expression. He put an arm around her tense, hunched shoulders, drawing her to him.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “You were right to tell me. I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us either. Not ever again.”

She leaned against his side, face turned into the hollow of his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his waist, clinging onto him with desperate ferocity. He buried his own face in her hair. As always, her storm-rain scent spiked longing through his blood.

How easy it would be to pull her into his lap. To feel her sweet heat straddling him, soft thighs wrapped over his hips. To nip and nuzzle lower, following the beckoning curve of her neck. To unbutton her top and lose himself in the intoxicating curves of her lush breasts, pulling wordless sounds of pleasure from her mouth with every lick and suck…

With a sound that was half-sigh, half-sob, Ivy pulled away from him. Her flushed face betrayed that she too had been having much the same line of thought.

“Sorry,” she said, abruptly getting off the bed. “I can’t—it’s not safe for me to be so close to you. I’m not in control tonight. I know you’re right, we can’t risk it, but I can’t help thinking about it.”

He knew what she meant. His own head was a raging maelstrom of emotion. Anger and desire, fear and bitter rage, and winding through it all was still a stupid, stupid thread of hope. Even now, as he looked at her, some treacherous corner of his mind was still whispering what if, what if…

Ivy twitched her shoulders, as if physically shaking herself free of some unwanted thought. “I think I need to get some fresh air and cool off. It’s been a while since I shifted, and that always puts me on edge. Is it okay if I go out for a bit?”

“That’s a good idea.” He attempted a smile. “I might go for a run myself.”

“Um.” Ivy hesitated at the window. “Not to sound paranoid, but would you mind waiting until I get back? My dumb wyvern gets anxious when Hope’s left unguarded, and there’ll be a lot of strangers in the house tonight. I think I need to really stretch my wings to clear my head, and I can’t do that if my beast is constantly trying to tug me back here.”

She looked so small and brave and lonely, silhouetted against the darkening twilight. More than anything, he wanted to go over to her and enfold her in his arms. To show her that she wasn’t alone. That she didn’t need to be brave. That he would take care of her, in every way that she needed.

But he couldn’t.

“Of course I’ll watch over Hope,” he said. “But she really is safe here, you know. The wards around the grounds are like invisible walls. Not even a flying shifter can enter the property without the permission of someone in the family.”

A worried wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Uh, I’ve got your permission to go in and out, right?”

“You don’t need it,” he said. “You are family.”

* * *

Ivy soared on emerald wings over the winter-bare woods. Things always seemed simpler when she was wrapped in scales, alone and free in the sky. The cold wind swept the cobwebs of human thoughts from her mind, leaving only the bright, sharp desires of the wyvern.

She swooped low over the forest, her sharp eyes picking out the faint marks of deer-tracks through the leafless canopy. Her talons flexed, acid saliva flooding her mouth in anticipation. Having lived her entire life in cities, she’d never had the opportunity to indulge her predatory instincts.

No. The small still-human part of her tugged at her awareness, like a rider pulling on reins. Not that way. I’m not going to let you poach the Earl’s deer.

She snarled in irritation, but allowed herself to be pulled off-course. The sweeping lawns in front of their lair offered easier hunting than the tangled woods, after all.

And indeed, there was a whole herd of creatures approaching, foolishly following each other nose-to-tail along the gravel track. Their bright, staring eyes made them easy targets. They didn’t smell of meat, but their roaring was annoying, and they were on her territory. Throat swelling, she gathered herself to swoop and rain death upon the intruders.

NO. Once again, that irritating part of her forced her away. For pity’s sake, those are guests arriving for the ball! You can’t eat them either!

She fought, but her other-self was too strong. She was forced to soar upward, aborting her dive. Hissing in anger, she spiraled above the grounds, watching the honking beasts crawl up to the front of the lair, disgorging small two-legged shapes from their innards.

Humans. Strange humans.

You could not trust humans. Even the ones who were supposed to care for you could turn mean and cold between one breath and another. You had to be always on guard, always ready to defend what was yours.

Every instinct screamed at her to destroy the strangers. They were too close to her treasures.

Hugh’s there, her human part reminded her. He’ll watch over Hope.

Her bristling spines settled a little. Her mate was powerful. Even the beasts with the burning eyes would be no match for his incandescent wrath. Yes, she could trust him to defend the lair in her absence.

Satisfied, she swept her wings down, her sleek form cleaving the air. She would hunt. She would return with plump prey, and feed choice morsels to her mate.

Hugh’s a vegetarian, her other-self muttered at the bottom of her mind. What are you going to do, slay a salad?

But at least her other half wasn’t clipping her wings anymore. She soared onward, enjoying the icy bite of the night air. The winds in this new territory were challenging, made unpredictable by the rolling hills below. They sported with her, tugging playfully at her lean form. Far more interesting than the thick, flat air above human cities.

She caught sight of the high stone wall that marked the boundary of the estate, and angled her wings to follow it. Best to stay within her mate’s territory, until she could learn who controlled the lands beyond.

Though, she mused, not even the strongest dragon could stand against the combined power of herself and her mate. Together they would expand this great territory even further. They would claim enough hunting grounds to support generations of their offspring—

A strange light caught her attention, interrupting her daydream. She hovered on the wind, narrowing her eyes.

She wasn’t the only creature pacing the boundary tonight. A pack of hulking black shapes ran along the outside edge of the wall, occasionally stopping to sniff and paw at it. Though they were four-legged, they were not fat deer or juicy boar.

They were predators.

The flickering light that had caught her attention shone from their open jaws, backlighting vicious fangs. Their red eyes gleamed bright as flames in the dark.

Hellhounds!

Her human half was suddenly alert, once again taking control of their shared body. Her own instincts called her to swoop down and put an end to the much smaller predators, but her other-self kept them high in the sky, invisible against the scattered clouds.

The pack below didn’t seem to have noticed the doom hovering above their heads. They kept following the wall, yelping to each other. They seemed to be testing the boundary, searching for a crack in the defense.

What are they doing here? Her human’s agitation made their tail curve, their deadliest venom gathering in the stinger at its tip. Are they Gaze’s people?

One of the hellhounds hesitated, nose tilting upward. She tensed—but the hound didn’t erupt into full-throated howls of alarm, as it surely would have done had it caught her scent. Instead, it barked, attracting the attention of its pack mates. Breaking off from running the boundary, they milled and yipped for a few moments, as though conferring with each other.

Then, as one, they turned tail. The pack headed away from the territory, disappearing into the woods.

None of them looked up, though. And she could still track the lights of their eyes moving through the leafless canopy.

She started to follow, but her other-self jerked her back like a collar around her neck. She struggled and snapped in mid-air, fighting herself. Part of her wanted to fly back to the lair, to warn her mate what she had seen. The other part wanted to hunt down the intruders and punish them for daring to challenge her territory.

Something half-remembered tickled the back of her mind, like a stray feather. Something her sister, her treasure, had said once about hellhounds. About them only letting themselves be seen if they wanted to be seen…

But the ones below were not invisible. Why would they hide themselves, when they didn’t even know they were being hunted? Perhaps they had simply tired, and were returning to their own lair. Or perhaps they had been summoned back by their red-eyed alpha.

If she followed them now, they might lead her straight to him.

That thought resolved her divided mind. She extended her wings, catching an air current so that she could silently follow the fleeing pack without so much as a flap to betray her presence.

Mate! she called out in her mind, hoping to reach his. Mate, enemies are near! Be wary, be on guard!

She had no sense that he heard. He was too far away, and the bond between them was too weak.

She clamped her jaws shut on a snarl of annoyance. Why hadn’t they mated yet? If they were fully joined, she would have been able to reach him as easily as if he flew at her wingtip.

No time for regrets now. All her cunning and focus was needed for the hunt.

Silent and deadly, she shadowed the pack…and never wondered if she was being lured away.

* * *

The laughter rising from the ballroom stabbed through his head like knives. His unicorn flattened its ears, shying away from the knots of excited, chattering guests cluttering the corridors. Their vital auras were viciously sharp to his sixth sense.

Hugh clenched his teeth, unable to keep even a semblance of a polite smile on his face as he edged through the crowds. Despite his uninviting expression, he was still aware of heads turning to follow him as he passed. The lustful gazes raked across his skin like steel blades.

Normally he would never have subjected himself to the torment of a party. A dense mass of people dressed in revealing finery, inhibitions loosened by alcohol, intent on flirting and dancing…it was his own personal hell.

But he’d promised Ivy that he’d watch over Hope. And under the throbbing agony in his head was a strange, deeper unease. A nagging sense of wrongness, like a splinter in his mind.

Be on guard, his unicorn whispered again. There is danger here.

The whirling energies of the crowd buffeted his animal like a sandstorm, but it set its hooves, enduring the assault. The firefly glimmer of its horn urged him on.

Skirting round a pair of women in low-cut silk ballgowns—and flinching as their appreciative stares stung his shoulders—he finally reached the long gallery that ran along the edge of the ballroom. He peered down over the balcony, scanning the crowds below. The dancing had not yet started, and most people were milling around the edges of the vast room. His eyes skipped from head to head.

Where is she?

His searching gaze snagged on one particular figure. Not a small, thin form seated in a wheelchair, but a broad-shouldered man dressed in a perfectly-tailored tuxedo. His slender white stick and opaque glasses marked him as visually impaired, yet his face turned upward. For a second, Hugh could have sworn that the man’s hidden eyes stared straight at him.

“Hugh?”

He stiffened, turning toward the familiar, unwelcome voice. In the general sea of pain, he’d missed the usual stab of his father’s approach.

His father stopped a careful five feet away, not coming too close. There was something strange in his expression that Hugh couldn’t quite place; a crack in the patrician dignity. If he didn’t know better, he would have said that his father looked hopeful.

“You came,” his father said, a slight hesitancy in his measured tones. “I take it this means Ivy spoke with you.”

“She did,” Hugh growled. “But don’t worry. I’m not going to punch you in the face in front of a crowd of guests. Must keep up family appearances, after all.”

Something flickered across his father’s eyes. Relief? Disappointment? It was gone too fast for Hugh to identify, his father’s face freezing back into its usual icy mask.

“So she kept her word,” his father murmured. “Why are you here then?”

“I’m looking for Hope,” Hugh said curtly. “Have you seen her?”

“The charming young lady in the wheelchair? Only briefly.” His father tilted his head, a small frown curling his mouth. “She seemed happy enough, but broke off our conversation abruptly. She said that she’d thought she’d spotted someone she knew, but she needed to get a closer look to be sure.”

Disquiet prickled down Hugh’s spine. “Was it—wait, where did he go?”

“Who?” his father asked, but Hugh was already pushing past, heading for the staircase down to the ballroom.

There! His unicorn lowered its head, pointing out a door across the room. It should have been firmly closed and locked…yet now it stood fractionally ajar.

Hugh hurried through the crowd, regardless of the white-hot shock as he brushed past people. The door creaked as he pushed through it, into the shadowed corridor beyond. He was just in time to catch a flicker of movement, the edge of a black jacket whisking round the corner ahead.

“Hey!” he shouted, breaking into a run. “You! Stop!”

EYES! His unicorn reared, horn blazing. Beware his eyes!

Swearing under his breath, Hugh squeezed his own tight shut. If the basilisk shifter had brazenly strolled straight through his front door, he couldn’t risk meeting his stare.

He sped up, trusting in scent and hearing and his unicorn’s sense of the man’s vital energies to guide him. Even blind, he was faster than the intruder. He’d grown up in this house. He knew every inch of these corridors—

An unexpected obstacle caught his ankle, sending him sprawling. On pure reflex, his eyes flew open…and the world dissolved into crimson.