Amaya rolled up to the farmhouse as sunlight touched the sky. Eighteen hours ago, the course of her life took a dramatic shift. She went home, quit her job, and had a six pack of beer. As she drowned her sorrows, she checked her bank account. One hundred and fifty-seven dollars. She had a partial check due from her former job, but the first of the month was next week. Along with her rent, light and gas, cable, and cell phone were all due. Plus, she liked to have three meals a day. Michael’s idea of providing for her had better include cash.

She spent the rest of the day brooding and sleeping. As soon as the sun set, she went hunting, and came up with zip. Damn it, she needed to kill something before the night was over, before she had to show up to her new job.

Amaya climbed out of the car and grabbed the bag of groceries she'd purchased from an all-night supermarket. UnHallowed didn’t need to eat, so she bought everything she liked, and she didn’t plan on sharing.

The tall grass would have to go, though she was getting a workout trudging through it. Godzilla could hide in it and they’d never know. There were a few thickets of trees and brush that were probably okay. She wondered if she would have to get approval for any changes from Michael or Bane. She would suggest it to both and let them hash it out.

Her gaze turned to the house. It was June. Fourteen hours of sunlight in a dilapidated house with no air conditioning. Uggh! She pulled out her phone and was thankful to see she had a few bars. At least she could kill some time watching Netflix.

“Enough stalling,” she mumbled and pushed on. It took all night to come up with a game plan and she was gonna stick to it. If Bane was there, in the house, then she’d spend her time outside in the sun where he couldn’t go. Childish? Maybe. But certainly effective.

The porch creaked under her feet, announcing her presence, as if he didn’t already know she was there. A fortifying breath steadied her nerves, then she pushed open the door. The small foyer wasn’t dark, but softly lit from a wall sconce she hadn’t noticed yesterday. A few steps further and she peered into a furnished living room that had been bare fourteen hours ago. The sofa and loveseat were old, something you’d see in a photoshoot from the seventies. Across the hall in the formal dining room was a white Formica dining set from the same period.

None of the furniture was here yesterday. She couldn’t imagine either being doing this so, who went on a shopping spree and picked out this crap?

She moved to the kitchen. She hadn’t made it that far into the house yesterday, so she didn’t know if the green toaster and refrigerator were new, though they looked pre-war. She placed her grocery bag on the counter and noticed a manila folder with her name typed across the front.

An old-fashioned bank deposit book fell out first. It was in her mother’s maiden name. “Holy crap!” If the numbers inside were correct, her mother was loaded. There was another envelope inside the folder. She opened it to find statements from a brokerage firm. And a will. Her mother had purchased ten thousand dollars’ worth of stock from Walmart in 1975. As the only child of Karen Prince, all of it belonged to Amaya.

“Shit.” This had to be Michael’s idea of taking care of her. Her paternal grandparents raised her on a strict budget until she moved out right after she got her GED at seventeen. They couldn’t have known about this money. She wished they had. It would have eased their burden.

Her birth certificate slid out of the envelope next, followed by the deed to the house and surrounding land in her name and—Bane’s. Bane McIntosh.

Damn it! Why? Why do I have to share my home with an UnHallowed? Worry about it later. Now, she had shit to do.

“I have a home and enough money to not have to worry about how to pay for it.” She sat at the oval breakfast table with its scarred surface, wishing she’d splurged on the McDonalds breakfast. Amaya shoved the documents back into the envelope and stuck the lunchmeat, bread, a couple of packets of mayonnaise and mustard, and a half gallon of milk that she brought to last the day into the refrigerator.

The bank had a local branch. That would be her first stop. Everything else could wait, had to wait, because protecting the Cruor had to come first. But right now, she wanted to finish investigating her new home.

Giddy, she climbed the back staircase to the second floor. There were five bedrooms of a decent size, all empty except the master bedroom, where she found a full-sized brass bed. The sheets looked clean along with the room. The others had a thick layer of dust, but this one was dust free, including the tiny bathroom.

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She wasn’t alone.

Amaya spun, to find no one was there.

Yeah. Right.

She went back downstairs, peered into every room and opened every door. She found the hidden staircase in the dark root cellar and followed it down into the cool earth where sunlight couldn’t reach. Wall sconces lined a short tunnel that angled deeper into the ground. She dragged her hand along the surface of the smooth walls, wondering when it had been constructed because it seemed new.

The tunnel opened to a large circular room with another tunnel branching off it, ending in another circular room and one empty bedroom at the end. Her new home wasn’t hers alone. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, about him living beneath her feet in these austere quarters.

Amaya pushed the thought away. They had a job to do, so Bane being here was practical. As long as they stayed out of each other’s way—he in the basement, she in the rooms upstairs—things would be fine. She’d find a way to share the house until the Cruor was safe. She had a home now, and no one, human or otherwise, would keep her from enjoying it.

Amaya left the bedroom and walked down the dim tunnel. “Bane.” His name rushed out of her in a breathy whisper she hated. She almost didn’t see him standing along the wall at the opposite end of the tunnel.

Had he been there all this time? Watching her? He had on a gray button-down shirt, the collar open, the cuffs rolled up, exposing his thick forearms, paired with dark jeans, and the same boots from before. The belt buckle was matted silver. He looked…good. His hair was orderly again, cropped close on the sides with just enough on top to grab. Not that he looked bad when he was dressed all in black and cloaked.

Amaya cleared her throat and forced her thoughts away from the wayward path it had taken. “Are you responsible for buying the house and my mother’s bank account? The stocks also?”

“No. Michael took care of that. I took care of this.”

Figures! She snorted. He placed Bane on the mortgage to tie her hands. She couldn’t evict the man legally or otherwise with his name on the deed. Michael! That sneaky bastard. She stepped closer and pointed a finger above her head. “What about the furniture upstairs? The clean bedroom?”

“I found almost everything in the attic and the barn. Figured you could use a head start on decorating. I’m sure it’s not your style. At least you have something to eat on, sleep on.”

His kindness temporarily rendered her speechless. “Umm, thanks.” She didn’t know what else to say around the sudden anxiety tightening her stomach. She wasn’t afraid, just…nervous.

“Tell me about you and Michael,” he demanded.

His command didn’t surprise her. He had to ask and she was prepared to answer. “None of your business.”

He ignored her and continued. “He doesn’t seem very protective of you. He treats you more like a tool to be used than someone he values.”

The barb struck deep. She folded her arms to keep him from seeing her clenched hands. “He trusts me to get the job done.”

“How did you end up with him? Michael doesn’t interact with humans by accident. In layman’s terms, you two didn’t bump into each other at the local supermarket. Did your UnHallowed father hand you over to the archangel? Do you even know who your father is?”

Amaya seethed. Her fingers curled and released on their own accord. “I never had the pleasure of meeting Richard Prince, my father, because he died on a stretch of road minutes before I was born. My paternal grandparents raised me because my maternal, Caucasian grandparents wanted nothing to do with their biracial granddaughter. They were from the South and hadn’t evolved. Pop and Granny told me all about their son, the first of the family to graduate from college, who had just landed a job with GE as an engineer. He loved football and could’ve moonlighted as a pastry chef. He had a serious sweet tooth that forced him to learn how to bake. Oh, and he was excited about being a father. Any more questions?”

Bane dipped his head. “Sorry. I want to understand how you came into Michael’s possession.”

She bristled and had to refrain from reaching for the dagger at her hip. A few deep breaths and she spat, “No one possesses me. Got it? No one.”

He gave her a clipped nod.

She focused on the wall beside his head until she didn’t feel like stabbing him. “So why are you here at Michael’s beck and call?” A bit of red expanded around his irises and she gave an inner cheer. “I didn’t think you were a follower, the type to take orders. I see I was wrong.”

A half smile she’d become accustomed to, raised the corner of his mouth. Not an ounce of humor reached his semi-red eyes. “The UnHallowed need direction, unity. We need to come out of the shadows and be of use. We need to return to Heaven, as equals, not fallen scum. I’m the one who will deliver all of that to them.”

His anger reached across the distance, caused the fine hairs on her arms to stand at attention. “So, that’s what you want, to return to Heaven?”

“As an archangel with my wings.”

Good to know. “And that’s why you’re here.”

His gaze skimmed down her body and climbed back up. “Among other reasons.”

Goose bumps flashed across her skin. Not from a chill, but from an internal roasting. “The basement is yours. I really don’t care what you do with it. The house is mine. You are not welcome upstairs without my permission.”

With a slow, relaxed stroll, Bane closed the distance between them. Amaya curled her fingers, prepared to battle, and stood her ground.

“Plan on keeping me in the basement like a pet? Plan on throwing me scraps? Petting me on occasion?” The last sentence was drawn out until it was a paragraph. He stepped into her personal space so that he filled her vision. Now, she felt threatened by the heat radiating from his body, the leather and night scent clinging to him, filling her nostrils, and the frantic beating of her heart.

He mumbled something and made a sound close to a purr, then he licked his lips. “I like being stroked. I’ll show you where.”

She darted for the tunnel to the stairs. She couldn’t help it. Either she ran or he’d see the trembling in her limbs.

“Amaya.”

His sharp use of her name halted her on the stairs.

“I’m not your dirty secret. I’m your partner. My name is on the deed to this property, next to yours. That means you can’t keep me out, can’t disinvite me. I created this basement for the daytime, when I can’t be upstairs. As soon as the sun sets, I will go anywhere I please, anywhere in this house, at any time.”

Not if she had anything to say about it, and she did. Although, at the moment, she hadn’t a clue what to say or how to stop him, but that would change, and when it did…Bane would regret it.

Or she would.