Trying to have a vision when you don’t know how to control your own abilities is like trying to make yourself sneeze.

In other words, damn near impossible.

Sol seemed to know more about the gift of Sight than his brothers, but everything he knew was theoretical. He couldn’t teach me how to control it; he could only give me vague suggestions of things that might help. And despite their wide network of supernatural connections in the city, none of their friends or acquaintances had this ability either.

It’d been three days since our trek through the subway lines. If I couldn’t get something to happen soon, there was talk of taking me to a dark magician and seeing if he could unlock the power I wasn’t able to access.

Fear was an excellent motivator, and I was definitely afraid of letting some magic user poke around in my psyche. But even that prospect hadn’t been enough to unlock my gift.

My hands lashed out, striking the heavy bag with a quick whap-whap. I blew out a breath and punched again, dancing around the bag like I’d seen boxers do in movies.

This was the first time I’d dared to return to the training room since Malcolm and I had our encounter down here. He hadn’t ever spoken of it to me, and I hadn’t said anything to him either—but I knew he thought about it. I felt his heated gaze lingering on me often.

Had he told Jerrett and Sol what happened? God, I hoped not.

Malcolm didn’t seem like the type of guy to boast of his conquests, but he was obviously close with his brothers.

Maybe, like Jerrett had said, they shared.

A confusing mix of emotions burned through me. How had these men rampaged into my life and transformed it—transformed me—so completely? And it wasn’t just the mutation from human to vampire. In fact, that was starting to feel like the least of the changes in me.

There was something bigger underneath that. A fundamental, seismic shift in the essence of who I was.

Was this really me?

This woman who acted on impulse, who followed her instincts—who took what she wanted without apology, for no other reason than that she wanted it?

My hands working the heavy bag slowed. I straightened, breathing deeply.

And if it is me… is that really a such a bad thing?

I’d been married for nine years and had spent eight of them trying to convince myself I wasn’t miserable. That everything was okay. That asking for more than the meager life I had was selfish and unreasonable.

It’d taken me so long to tell Kyle I wanted a divorce because I’d been afraid of starting over on my own. And, stupidly, I’d been afraid of hurting Kyle. I had put his happiness over my own every day for nine years, even though he’d never done the same for me.

I punched the bag again, harder this time. I hit the same spot over and over, finally letting out years worth of frustration and anger.

And I was angry. I’d never really been able to admit it until now, but I was angry at Kyle for relegating me to the back burner for so long—for making me feel worthless. Not because he’d hit me or abused me in any way, but because he’d simply never treated me like I had any worth.

Hell, even the divorce, the thing I’d avoided for so long to spare his feelings, had barely seemed to affect him in any way.

I would never live like that again.

My knuckles split on the bag, and a sharp breath behind me drew my attention. I whirled around as the heavy bag shook and quivered on its chain.

Sol stood in the doorway.

Jesus. You’d think with super hearing, I wouldn’t get snuck up on so often.

Then again, I was living with three deadly hunters. No wonder I never heard them coming.

“How long were you watching me?” I asked, then slapped a hand over my mouth. “I mean, not watching. I didn’t…”

My voice was muffled by my fingers, and I trailed off, unsure what to say.

Nice, Willow. Very socially awkward.

But Sol smiled, his expression warm.

“You can call it watching, but I don’t do it with my eyes. I’ve gotten very good at observing with my other senses. When Fate granted me immortal life, she didn’t see fit to return my eyesight. But she did grant me a sixth sense that helps me function just as well.”

Curiosity burned through me. It was probably rude to ask, but I’d wondered about this ability of his ever since I’d met him. “So, how does it work? Can you sense what color my hair is?”

The blond vampire stepped into the room, walking toward me unerringly. He chuckled. “No. Color is a purely visual construct, so I can’t tell what color it is. However, I can tell that it’s soft, smells of cherry and a hint of spice, and that it’s slipping out of the ponytail you pulled it into.”

My eyes widened. I touched the loose strand of hair that had indeed fallen from my ponytail, tugging it between my fingers before I tucked it behind my ear. “How?”

“It’s hard to describe. It’s a combination of so many senses working in concert that it’s difficult to break down how the perceptions form in my head. But my sixth sense allows me to ‘see’ auras of a sort. I can feel energy. It’s stronger from living beings and supernaturals, but even inanimate objects give off some energy.”

“Holy shit.”

Sol’s lips quirked up, his light green eyes dancing with humor. “That’s one way to put it, yes.”

He stopped in front of me and caught my hand in his.

Blood was still smeared across my knuckles, and I didn’t miss the way his nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent. For a breathless second, I was convinced he was going to lick the droplets from the back of my hand, and my skin tingled at the thought.

But instead, he led me across the room. I followed willingly, too busy staring at him in amazement to put up any resistance. A small chest of drawers stood by the weapons rack, and he pulled open the top drawer and removed a clean, white cloth.

There was a long silence as Sol gently wiped the blood from my knuckles. I wondered if he could tell I was staring at him. Actually, I was positive he could, but for some reason, that knowledge wasn’t enough to stop me.

He was so strikingly handsome it was impossible not to stare. His wavy blond hair formed a widow’s peak on his forehead, and not even the florescent lights overhead could dim the glow of his golden skin. His body looked incredible in his well tailored shirt and pants, and he had a fresh scent, spicy and warm.

“There. Good as new.”

As Sol finished cleaning my knuckles, I looked down to see that the skin had already healed over.

“I still can’t get used to that. The healing thing.” I didn’t pull my hand from his grasp, and he made no move to release me.

“You will. You have time.”

I huffed a laugh. “Good point. As long as those shades don’t kill me first.”

“They won’t. We’ll keep you safe. You know that, don’t you, Willow tree?”

His grip on my hand tightened until I nodded. He relaxed slightly, finally moving away from me and crossing back toward the door.

“This is a stupid question, I know,” he shot back over his shoulder. “But have you had any more visions?”

I sighed, feeling like a dismal failure. “No.”

“It’s all right. You will.”

An unladylike snort burst from my lips as I followed him out the door. I didn’t want to linger in the training room. If Malcolm happened to come down here again, I honestly wasn’t sure what would happen. Better to avoid the temptation altogether.

“How are you so sure? I might never have a vision again. It could have been a freak thing. A one-off, a total fluke.”

“No.” Sol preceded me up the stairs to the first floor. “I don’t believe that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Fate led us to you for a reason. She knew you would help us. She knew we needed you.”

His voice softened as he said the last bit, and a thrill ran through me. Trying to shove the butterflies in my stomach back into their cocoons, I snorted. “Yeah, well, Fate might need to kick it up a notch if she’s serious about me helping you find those shades. Maybe she can send me a vision or something.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Sol said, slowing so I could walk beside him along the narrow hall.

I wasn’t sure if he was leading me or I was leading him at this point. Not that I had anywhere important to go.

Except into a vision. Hopefully soon.

“I know.” I ran a finger down the smooth cream-colored wall as we passed. “I just need help. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.”

Sol’s sightless eyes flicked my way. “I’m sorry we can’t be of more assistance. Your gift is beyond our abilities.” His brows furrowed. “What were you doing when you had the first vision?”

I was sure every one of his senses could pick up the wildfire blazing under my skin as I dropped my eyes to the dark hardwood floor. “You… um, you really don’t know? Malcolm didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what? All I know is he brought you upstairs to your room before coming to get us. You were out cold, your aura dimmed. Completely unresponsive.”

Sol hadn’t mentioned anything about my shredded bra or exposed breasts, so I assumed Malcolm had dressed me before he went to get his brothers. I felt a swell of gratitude for the strong, stoic, tortured man. He may have had his own reasons for keeping our encounter from his brothers, but I appreciated that he’d left me with a little bit of my dignity intact.

Of course, that was all about to go out the window now.

Because Sol still had his head cocked toward me, waiting for an answer to his question.

Hoo boy.

“I was… kissing.”

“Kissing?” His eyebrows shot up toward his perfect hairline, and I wanted to sink into the floor.

“Yes. Malcolm and I were training, and then… things got a little heated. We were on the floor of the training room, and we were”—doing so much more than—“kissing, and all of a sudden my soul sort of slipped out of my body. The next thing I knew, I woke up in bed with you sitting next to me.”

I finished speaking in a rush, hoping he wouldn’t have any probing follow-up questions.

But Sol didn’t say anything.

Instead, he stopped in his tracks, holding out a hand to stop me too. I looked over at him hopefully. As embarrassing as it was, maybe my confession had actually triggered something—given him some idea of what it was that had brought on the vision, and how to replicate it.

Before I could ask him, he turned toward me, grabbing my upper arms firmly in his strong hands and pressing my back to the wall.

My pulse spiked at his sudden smooth movement, at the commanding way he controlled my body.

“What… what are you doing?” I whispered.

Sol cupped my cheeks, his palms warm and soft. He tilted my face up gently, gazing down at me with eyes that, though blind, saw more of me than almost any person I’d ever known.

“I’m helping you find your Sight, little Willow tree.”

Holding my face perfectly still, he dipped his head and brought his lips to mine.

It wasn’t like Malcolm’s kiss at all.

That had been desperate and out of control, full of shame and confusion.

This was careful and deliberate, intentional and unapologetic. Sol knew exactly what he was doing. He knew what he wanted. And he wasn’t sorry about it.

His lips moved against mine as he took his time tasting me, teasing me. I tried to hold still, to allow this to be a simple experiment, an attempt to bring on the vision and nothing more.

Just like having sex when you’re pregnant to bring on labor, I thought wildly. It’s clinical. That’s all.

A sudden image flashed through my head.

Me. Naked. Riding Sol. My hands resting on his chest as I rocked up and down, chasing my pleasure. His sightless gaze locked on me, a look of such worship and lust on his face as he stroked my fevered skin—

My knees buckled.

That hadn’t been a real vision—at least, I didn’t think so—but the image had been so powerful my clit throbbed and my entire body ached with longing.

Sol’s firm grip had kept me from falling, and now I used it to pull him closer to me. I tugged his hands away from my face, guiding them down my body as I wrapped my legs around him.

Without ever breaking the contact of our lips, Sol gave me what I needed. His hands slid around behind me, cupping my ass and lifting me against him in one smooth movement. I felt weightless in his arms, and when he finally broke away from my lips to trail hot kisses down the side of my neck, my head tilted back in ecstasy.

Then I kept tilting.

Just like it had that first time with Malcolm, my soul suddenly seemed to weigh twice as much as my body. My physical form was wrapped in Sol’s protective embrace, head tilted up, wide eyes staring at the ceiling. But my soul fell backward, sliding through the wall, through the floor, through layers of rock and sediment into nothing.

For the second time, blackness swallowed me up.

The panic was no less acute, even having been here once before. I had the terrifying feeling that I might get stuck here, trapped in nothingness, trapped as nothingness. Floating forever.

Then, slowly, the world coalesced around me.

I hovered in the air, just like I had last time. Below me, the same abandoned structure I’d seen before crouched like a gargoyle in the large field. There were fewer shades than there had been last time, but several still floated around in the dim moonlight outside.

My mind raced. At least we knew they were out of New York. And this place must be their hideout if they’d returned here again. But where was here? I needed to find something new, to see something I hadn’t before, or this entire trip would be wasted.

Gathering my focus, I fought to move my consciousness through space. It was like trying to swim with no arms, and for a moment, nothing happened.

I stopped, frustration rising in me.

Damn it. Maybe the problem is that I’m still trying to move as if I have limbs. I don’t. So flailing won’t make a bit of difference.

But how did creatures with no limbs move?

Feeling a little ridiculous, I imagined my consciousness as a snake wending its way through the grass. An effortless, undulating glide forward.

Elation filled me when the old building in the distance seemed to grow. It was getting closer! Or rather, I was getting closer to it. I kept up the careful glide, watching the shades to make sure they truly couldn’t see me.

But no heads turned my way, even as I slipped through a large broken window and into the abandoned building.

It was a church.

Only about half the pews remained intact; the rest had rotted away or lay amongst small piles of debris scattered about the room. A large cross hung on a wall at the back of the church. On the dais beneath it sat an altar stained with something thick, dark, and matte. Dried blood.

Then a faint sound reached me.

Crying.

A child was crying.

I searched the rest of the large space. On the choir risers off to the side of the dais, a cluster of small bodies huddled together. The brownish-gray color of their skin confirmed they were goblins.

Fear lanced through me. How many of them were there? How many had died already?

I tried to move forward again, but in my panic, I lost the easy glide I’d found before. I struggled against empty space, but it was no good. Instead of moving forward, my consciousness was tugged back, out through the window where I’d come in.

No! No, no, no!

Scrabbling for some kind of purchase in the ether, I tried to slow my movement. I couldn’t go yet. I needed to find something. Some kind of landmark or clue. Something!

But I was flying backward, gliding away so fast the thick, dense forest below me was almost a blur.

Then I saw it. Heard it.

The roar of rushing rapids.

The white spray as thousands of gallons of water hurtled over a sheer cliff face.

Niagara Falls.

Well, that’ll do for a landmark.