“Do you remember the vampire that was with me?”

He nodded, fingers waving in her direction but not coming any closer. “Darkness that one. All darkness.”

“No, he’s not. Or at least he wasn’t. Not until you stole his emotions.”

The raptor snorted, nostrils flaring again. “My payment.” He pounded his fist against his chest. “My due.”

“Yes, payment was owed to you, but you could have taken something else.” That seemed to calm him, but she wasn’t sure. Without eyes, he was hard to read.

“What else?” he asked.

“If I let you take emotions from me, would you let the vampire’s go?”

The raptor slumped lower and covered his head with his long fingers. Minutes ticked by. Minutes they didn’t have.

“Raptor? Will you do it?”

Lifting his head, he nodded. “Will do. For my love.”

“You may only take my anger.”

He sighed. “Not a fair trade.”

“Please.”

He went very still. “You say please to me?”

“Yes.”

He inhaled, but it sounded like a sob. Then he reached out his hand. “Must touch.”

“You agree to the trade? Anger for love.”

“Yes.” His fingers stretched closer. “My love’s anger for the dark one’s love.”

She stuck her hand out.

His fingers wrapped her wrist. Suddenly, he let go of her, jerking back like he’d been shocked. “No,” he howled. “You are ruined by his blood. His child.” The raptor lurched to his feet, baring his teeth and hissing like a cat. “Ruined.”

She backed up. “We had a deal.”

“Chrysabelle!” Panic rang in Fi’s voice.

“No deal, vampire whore.” The raptor swiped at her.

She ducked, but he caught the side of her head. Blood trickled into her eye. She was vaguely aware of the surrounding noise level rising. He came at her again. This time she was ready. She dodged his punch and kicked his side, spinning him against the bars. He crashed into the stone wall and ricocheted off, falling forward. She jumped onto his back, both hands clenching the hilt of her sacre. Thrusting down with all her strength, she buried the blade in his back.

His long head jerked back, his mouth open to scream, but nothing came out but a gasp. Blood spurted up around her sword, and then he went limp. The raptor seemed to deflate, shrinking in size as she jumped to the ground.

The rest of the Claustrum began to wail. That had better mean the emotions he’d stolen were free again. They had to get back to Augustine now. She put her foot on the raptor’s back and yanked her sacre out. “No one calls me a whore.”

A quick tug and the knob of the French door came off in Mal’s hand. He pushed the door open, hoping he’d get lucky and find Chrysabelle in bed. He didn’t. But the scent of comarré blood was strong downstairs. Blood blood blood.

He went in that direction, the bloodlust in his system pushing him harder, making him as reckless as the voices urged him to be. He slipped down the stairs and stood in the foyer.

Doc saw him first. “Mal.”

The shadeux fae jumped off the couch. “Velimai, a warning burst.”

The wysper next to him opened her mouth and screamed. Mal tapped one earplug. “Nice try, but I came prepared, although I realize now I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

A blade snapped through the air and bit into Mal’s shoulder, blazing pain through his body like he was on fire. He cursed and yanked it out, burning his hand in the process. He looked up. There was only one place that Golgotha steel could have come from. A comar stood in the kitchen doorway. Mal scowled at Damian. “Just like your sister. Where is the princess? Turn her over and I might let the rest of you live.”

Doc shifted to his half-form, eyes green-gold and fingers tipped with razor-pointed claws. “I never thought it would come to this, but brother, I will take you down.”

Mal opened his mouth as pain ripped through his body again, but it wasn’t from his shoulder. It came from deep inside him, from where his heart had once beaten. He recognized it instantly. It was the throbbing ache of missing Chrysabelle, the agony of being separated from her, the gaping emptiness she’d once sealed away. The taste of her danced across his tongue, the silk of her skin slipped through his fingers, and her honey-sweet perfume filled his senses as though she’d never left his memory.

Longing followed, hard waves of it that stomped the howling voices down and shoved the beast into place. He went rigid as the balance returned and he realized what had happened. How he’d spoken to her, shunned her, hunted her. He closed his eyes, trying to quell the tide of sensation ripping through him.

Love came last and in such abundance that tears burned his eyes and he gasped for breath he didn’t require. His need for her swallowed him in a flash of brilliance. The room and its occupants disappeared until all he saw was her.

Every emotion he’d ever felt for Chrysabelle returned. The weight of it drowned him, beating him into the ground like a hammer. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Unable to bear the onslaught any longer, he dropped to his knees and collapsed.

Chapter Twenty-five

Lola rose as Luciano entered her office and moved out from behind her desk. “What a pleasant surprise. So nice to see you.”

“And you.” He kissed her cheek in greeting. “How are you? How are you adjusting to your new life?”