Clio held perfectly still, trying not to blush.

Lyre gently held her jaw as he examined her cheek, fingers pressed to the shallow scratch, courtesy of Eryx’s dagger. Heat washed across her skin as he applied faint touches of healing magic.

She sat on the bathroom counter, Lyre standing in front of her. Ash had left hours ago to hunt for Bastian, and the dingy room outside was empty.

She still couldn’t quite believe it. After nearly killing Lyre—and attempting to crack his skull after that—Ash had saved them. Keeping the shadow weave out of Samael’s hands was more important to him than following orders, and now the draconian was risking everything to help.

While she hesitated to trust Ash, Lyre didn’t seem to have any reservations. How he could just forget about the damage Ash had inflicted on him, she didn’t know. She definitely hadn’t forgotten, considering she’d spent hours healing his injuries.

Lyre’s fingers lifted from her face and he straightened. “That’s all I can do for now. I need to charge some lodestones, though that’ll only help so much. I’m no good at healing.”

He grimaced at the last part, but the expression did nothing to diminish the mouthwatering perfection of his face. Like her, he hadn’t returned to his glamour form yet, saving every drop of magic while he recovered.

Exhaustion ached through her body and she felt hollow inside, as though all her innards had been scraped out. She’d never been hit by the shadow weave before, and she never wanted to experience it again. Not even a long shower had relieved the fatigue, so deep and overwhelming she couldn’t think about anything else.

Well, anything except Lyre so close, his spicy cherry scent distracting her from her weariness.

“Thank you,” she said, not sure where to look. He was standing almost on top of her, though it wasn’t on purpose. The bathroom was just that tiny.

His fingers brushed her face again, this time tracing the edge of her jaw. She looked up in surprise, unable to suppress her blush this time.

“Are you okay, Clio?” he asked softly. He must have been waiting until Ash was gone to see how she was holding up—not from her physical injuries, but the wounds that had cut far deeper.

She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine, but instead memories of Bastian rushed through her. First, realizing he had been lying to her for years, then facing him again on Earth where he’d ordered Eryx to slit her throat if Lyre didn’t cooperate.

Her half-brother had nearly killed her, and he hadn’t shown the slightest hint of hesitation or remorse over it. Since her mother’s death, Clio had depended on him for everything, from her livelihood to her sense of self-worth, but that support had been torn away. If she wasn’t Bastian’s loyal half-sister, devoted to helping him and earning her place in his family, then who was she?

She lifted her head. “We’re going to stop him.”

Lyre didn’t have to ask what she meant. “We will.”

Her heart beat faster at the intensity in his amber eyes. Even with almost no magic to fuel his supernatural allure, he was mesmerizing. She wanted to touch his cheek where the dark tattoo revealed his bloodline. She wanted to trace the points of his ears, pierced with tiny gold hoops and a diamond stud. She wanted to run her hands in his short, tousled hair, a fine braid hanging beside his face with a ruby at the end.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice hoarsening with emotion. “For everything, Lyre.”

A crooked smile pulled at his lips. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for. I haven’t been particularly useful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Instead of arguing, could you just accept it?”

“Accept what, exactly?”

“That I would never have made it through any of this without you.”

His teasing smile faded into a serious stare. “You would have found a way. You’re tougher than you think, Clio.”

She twisted her mouth doubtfully—and Lyre’s gaze drifted to her lips.

She had only a moment to realize the shift in his thoughts before his fingers slid across her cheek and sank into her hair. Her heart stuttered as he guided her head back.

His lips brushed softly across hers and she closed her eyes, instantly lost in the rising heat in her center. He melded their mouths together, deepening the kiss. Winding her arms around his neck, she parted her lips in invitation.

A loud trill broke the silence.

Clio jerked back from Lyre and banged her head on the cracked mirror behind her. Clinging to the doorway with wings half-spread was a small dragon, her golden eyes glaring admonishingly. The small creature chattered, the sound stern and disapproving, then she sprang off the doorframe back into the main room.

Clio had first seen the small creature—called a dragonet—in Asphodel. She’d since learned that wherever Ash went, his dragonet was never far away—except in this case. Maybe he’d left the creature behind to supervise his houseguests?

Lyre scowled at the empty threshold, then turned back to her. Before she could guess his intentions, he kissed her again, hands sliding into her hair, still damp from her shower. She pressed against him, warmth spiraling through her.

Another furious burst of trills and chitters erupted from the doorway.

He pulled back again, leaving Clio breathless, and smirked at the growling dragonet. “You aren’t the boss of me, little dragon, and neither is your master.”

Clio sighed. Lyre and Ash working together would either be a dangerously perfect partnership—or a complete disaster.

* * *

Lyre ran his fingers across the chain around his neck, mentally tallying each gemstone and the spell it contained. Thanks to Bastian’s thievery, he was down from three chains to two. At least he hadn’t lost his bow. In his current circumstances, he’d never be able to replace it with a weapon of comparable quality and craftsmanship.

His fingers stopped on a gem containing the weave for his best dome shield—the same one Ash had blasted through when they’d fought on the bridge. That fight had been close. So many times, either of them could have died.

And now they were working together again.

Pulling one leg onto the chair, he propped his chin on his hand and stared out the apartment window. Behind him, Clio was sleeping on the mattress. She’d slept most of the past twenty-four hours, her body exhausted by the shadow weave.

Lyre’s hand drifted from his chain to his pocket, where a pouch of lodestones brimmed with power.

Having suffered the aftereffects of the KLOC before, he hadn’t wasted any time this round. Just before dark, he’d ventured out of the hideaway apartment. It had been a risk when his magic reserves were critically low—and a risk leaving Clio alone—but he hadn’t wanted any company for that mission.

With the sun setting and the bustle of the workday winding down, he had gone on the hunt. Twelve human women, helpless against his power, had provided enough emotional energy to charge most of his lodestones. Within a few hours, he’d recovered his magic entirely, and now all he had to deal with was the lingering physical fatigue. Unfortunately, his lodestones were attuned to him and useless to Clio.

When he’d returned, revitalized and recharged, she hadn’t commented. She must have guessed that charging lodestones at a dance club hadn’t been an option this time, but she didn’t ask how he’d charged them.

He glanced back at her, sleeping peacefully. She probably assumed he’d bedded a bunch of women to charge those stones, but if she’d just ask, he could assure her he’d … he’d what? That he’d been faithful to her?

Seriously? He was worrying about that? He was an incubus. He wasn’t ashamed to seduce or sleep with as many women as he damn well pleased. Incubi didn’t do monogamy. They couldn’t. It was impossible.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, then let his head fall back with a sigh. Before he could sink even further into the confusing quagmire of his thoughts, an icy chill ran down his spine. He stiffened, gaze flashing around the room then back to the window.

A huge black shadow dropped out of nowhere and landed on the windowsill.

Lyre lurched away from the glass, toppling his chair. He hit the floor on his back as the nightmarish shadow on the sill pulled the window open and squeezed through the gap.

In the moment it took his feet to touch the floor, Ash shimmered into glamour, his wings and tail vanishing. He gave Lyre, sprawled on the overturned chair, a disparaging look before closing the window.

“Holy shit,” Lyre groaned as he righted the chair and checked that he hadn’t woken Clio. “I think you scared a few years off my life.”

“Don’t sit in front of the window, then.”

Lyre dropped back into his seat and scanned the draconian. His casual look hadn’t lasted long. He was in full gear again, strapped head to toe in weapons with that huge sword slung across his back—a blade that had tasted quite a bit of Lyre’s blood.

Perched on the kitchen cabinets, the dragonet—her name was Zwi, Ash had revealed—grumbled loudly at her master. Was she tattling on Lyre for earlier? Watching Ash unbuckle his weapons, Lyre waited for the jitters in his limbs to fade. The draconian’s sudden appearance would have startled him no matter what, but that wasn’t the main reason for Lyre’s bout of panic.

“Do you think you could cut back on the fear thing?” he asked, massaging his chest.

“No.”

“Is it really necessary to terrify me every time you have your wings out?”

Ash pulled his large sword off his back and set it down with a thud. “It’s inherent to my magic. I can’t ‘cut back.’”

Lyre opened his mouth, then closed it. The draconian ability to panic everyone in the vicinity was involuntary? Damn. He tried to imagine what life would be like if he had no control over his aphrodesia.

Ash finished unloading his weapons and headed for the kitchen. Heaving off the chair, Lyre followed him. The draconian pulled a can of pork and beans out of the cupboard.

“How did it go tonight?” Lyre asked, reaching over Ash’s shoulder to get a second can. Ash had been gone for over twenty-four hours. Did the guy ever sleep?

“Probably found them.”

Lyre paused with his hand in the cupboard to stare incredulously at the draconian. “You found Bastian? Already?”

“I haven’t seen the nymph prince yet.” Ash pulled a battered knife from the drawer and cut the top of the can open. “Abandoned building about three blocks from the Ra embassy, right by the river. Pairs of blond and redheaded men coming and going.”

Lyre slowly set the second can on the counter. A solid lead, that fast. No wonder Lyre hadn’t been able to evade the draconian. “Coming and going where?”

“Several locations, but mainly scoping out the Ra embassy.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

Ash passed the knife to Lyre. “So far, they’ve only been active at night, and they’re moving carefully. I don’t know how many men the prince has brought in.”

As Lyre cut his can open, Ash fished in a drawer for a spoon. Lyre plucked the can out of his hand and set them both on the hot plate.

“Cold beans are disgusting,” he declared as he turned it on. “We need to know what we’re dealing with before we make our next move.”

“I’ve tracked their scouting patterns. Tomorrow after dark, I’ll capture one for questioning.”

“We’ll capture one,” Lyre corrected. “Clio can identify castes with her asper, so she’ll make sure we don’t nab the wrong daemon. And I’ll do the interrogating. Aphrodesia works a lot faster than torture, plus I can guarantee truthful answers.”

Ash stiffened at the mention of aphrodesia, his eyes darkening. “These daemons are all male.”

“Not surprising. That just means I’ll have to work harder at it, not that I can’t do it.”

Ash’s expression hardened further. Reaching around Lyre, he pulled a can off the hot plate, shoved his spoon into the unappetizing mixture, and started to eat.

Lyre reached for his can and felt the heat a moment before touching the metal. Hissing, he snatched his hand back and gave Ash a flinty look. Exactly how fireproof was the draconian? Wadding up the only dishcloth for insulation, he picked up the can and unenthusiastically stirred its contents.

“So,” he continued, “the three of us will interrogate one of Bastian’s nymphs, find out what we’re dealing with, and figure out how to intercept Bastian. I’d rather avoid another free-for-all brawl.”

Ash grunted in agreement. “Assuming the prince hasn’t amassed an army, this can be over by sunrise tomorrow.”

“I’m not that lucky.” Lyre poked at his beans. “Whatever luck I might’ve had ran out back in Asphodel.”

Ash leaned against the counter beside Lyre. “What do you plan to do about the bounty?”

“What can I do?” Lyre stared at his meager meal, his mouth too dry to even consider eating now. “Destroying the KLOC doesn’t fix anything as far as my death sentence goes. Hades and Chrysalis won’t stop hunting me.”

“Whining about it won’t help.”

Lyre snarled. “There’s nothing I can do except keep running.”

“If you were the type to run away like a beaten dog,” Ash said, “you wouldn’t have fought me to your last breath.”

“What other option do I have?” Lyre’s voice rose before he remembered Clio was sleeping.

Ash set his empty can in the sink. “As long as you’re alive, they’ll keep hunting you.” He stepped out of the kitchen and glanced back, his dark eyes gleaming. “There’s more than one way to disappear.”

Leaving Lyre in the kitchen, Ash crossed to the far corner and sank down, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. His dragonet slunk out of the shadows and climbed into his lap, her golden eyes alert while her master rested.

Lyre stood at the counter, watching the draconian. The sick dread that had taken up residence in his gut quieted and he absently resumed eating, scarcely noticing the taste as he mulled over what Ash had said.

If he wanted to survive long enough to enjoy his new freedom, then he needed a plan. And it was past time he figured one out.