The sun set earlier in the winter. That was the only small glimmer of hope Ria hung on to. At about half-fourish, the golden fire that kept her prisoner—in an understairs cupboard of all places—would end its journey across the sky and she would be safe again. And she would be free.

Harry Potter may have had a bedroom in his cupboard, but this one wasn't big enough to swing a cat in. She was squashed between the vacuum cleaner, some of her foster father's tools, and half a dozen paint cans. Her bum kept going to sleep and she couldn't straighten her legs properly. She'd never appreciated having the room to stand up before, but her hips and back ached so much, she was sure she'd never want to sit again.

And then there was Ryver. The way he looked at her, that spark of chartreuse in his hazel eyes that made her blush. The feel of his hands on her body.

And that kiss. Holy Mother of God, that kiss.

She ran her fingers over her lips. She could still feel it, still feel the fire he started within her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Try as she might, she couldn't get him out of her mind.

With her eyes having become accustomed to the dark, she even started reading the instructions on the tins of paint. She didn't even know there were instructions on paint, but there they were, telling her that the key to good result was in the preparation. Getting your walls and ceilings in a decent state before painting was, apparently, the trick. Once the prep work was done—oh Jesus H. Christ!

What in the hell was she doing?

She had absolutely no idea, and that was the problem. Maybe she should have stayed with Malandra. Yeah, okay, she’d lied to Ria for a long time, but she did at least seem to know what she was doing. By some complete stroke of luck, Ria had managed to dematerialise and survive relatively unscathed, but that was about it. She'd tried willing herself out of the cupboard, but she hadn't budged an inch. All she got for her efforts was a headache. After a while, she decided to stop trying. Where would she go anyway? And if she did make it out of there, what if she landed in the wrong place? Worse, what if she landed outside?

What a bloody mess!

If only she'd bought her phone with her. But who would she call if she had? What would she say: hi, I'm stuck in a cupboard and I can't leave until it's dark? Yeah, that's perfectly normal.

When she got out of there she was going to... She was going to... What? Her breath hitched. Oh God! I'm in so much trouble!

"RIA!"

His voice rang so loud in her head, she could have sworn he was in the room with her. For a second, she stopped breathing, and the sobs cut off just as quickly as they'd started. She stared into the darkness, but he wasn't there. The grief was overwhelming. Hugging her knees close as the tears started to fall, she admitted she'd never felt so alone.

She came awake with a jolt, snapping her head up, and instantly regretted moving so suddenly. Her neck cracked twice as she rolled her head from side to side. Ow!

Glancing around, she blinked the sleep from her eyes. Everything looked the same: the vacuum was still jabbing her in the ribs, she was still sitting on Phil's old tool box, and the paint cans were still neatly stacked next to the mop bucket. But something had changed. A sense of unease descended on her.

She tried to remember her dreams, wondering whether something she'd seen had woken her from her slumber. Nothing sprang to mind, no nightmare. In fact, she couldn't remember dreaming much at all. Her brow creased as she cast her mind further, looking for the source of her apprehension.

Something was in the house.

She couldn't quite grasp what or who it was, but she wasn't alone.

Ryver? Is that you?

There was no reply.

Her pulse raced as her heart staccatoed in her chest. She gasped as she finally found what she was looking for. The aura was strange, yet there was something oddly familiar about it. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she definitely recognised something...or someone out there. She concentrated hard. The footfall was quiet, almost silent, but it was there. One carefully placed footstep after the other crept closer and closer until someone, or something, stood just outside the door.

Ryver? If that's you, please say something because you’re starting to freak me out.

No answer.

"Victoria?"

She may recognise something in the aura she sensed, but the voice was completely foreign. She held her breath.

"You can come out now. It's safe, I promise."

Safe? The sun had set. Some inner knowledge confirmed it.

"Come on out, child."

She puffed out a slow breath. Getting out of the cupboard sure sounded good. Rolling off the tool box, she reached for the door. Cool, night air filled her lungs as it creaked open. Freedom and safety beckoned and she scrambled out of there as fast as her aching limbs could carry her.

She pulled herself up off the floral carpet runner, joints cracking as she stood at her full height for the first time in nearly ten hours. The air rushed out of her lungs as she finally cast her eyes on the owner of that strange voice. Dark eyes shone out of sunken sockets, cheekbones razoring through tight, pale skin. His unnatural smile pulled cracked lips over blackened gums as he stared back at her.

She stumbled backwards. "Wh-who are you?"

The disgusting smile widened. "I have waited a long time to meet you, Victoria."

"Nobody calls me Victoria," she spat as a horrible realisation crept into her mind. She'd seen him before, or at least someone similar. The memory wasn't hers, but that didn't make it any less real. She'd seen those black eyes before. She'd seen the hollowed cheeks. She'd also seen the evil acts he committed.

He bobbed his head. "I apologise, Ria. My mistake."

She eyed the door as casually as she could. She needed to get out of there.

The stranger moved, blocking her view of the exit. "Not thinking of leaving, are we? And so soon too." He moved again, closing the distance between them. "That's not very polite, is it?"

There was a change in his tone, like darkness had crept into it. Ria shivered. "What do you want?" she whispered.

He cocked his head. "I just want to get to know you, Ria."

Not happening, buddy. She started to back away, her mind already plotting her way to the back door. Adrenaline and fear powered through her in equal measures. Fight or flight, they said. She knew what this man was. And she knew fighting wasn't an option. Malandra had said so herself: the Fallen were a formidable enemy, and they'd bested some of the most skilled warriors in Faedom. No, fighting definitely wasn't an option for her.

She ran.

Flying down the corridor and skirting the kitchen table, she raced for the back door. The door was locked, but she paid it no heed as she all but wrenched it from the frame. She burst out into the overgrown garden, ignoring the twisted weeds and sharp thistles that clawed at her legs. The fence loomed large at the end of the garden, but she didn't even consider stopping; she could hear that Fallen bastard giving chase behind her. Her body seemed to understand what she needed and she vaulted the six-foot fence as if she'd done it a thousand times before. She landed gracefully on the other side and ran—straight into two more Fallen.

She crashed into them with an oomph and wasn't sure who was more surprised—her or them. She didn't stop to check. Her adrenaline propelling her forward, her legs pumping faster than she’d ever thought possible.

She heard a shout of, "After her!" behind her, causing her panic to rise further. She didn't know where she was going; she just knew she needed to get the hell away from them. Hearing them crash through the undergrowth that surrounded the cottage, she glanced over her shoulder, needing to be sure they weren't gaining on her.

That was a mistake.

New-found Fae genes or not, Ria was one of the clumsiest people she knew. As soon as she took her eyes from her path, nature found a way to trip her up. Her foot caught on the root of an ancient rhododendron and she sailed through the air. She landed face first, the tree roots and sharp pine needles scratching her face. Dust flew into her eyes, damn near blinding her.

Shit!

Her face throbbed as she scrambled to her feet and wiped her streaming eyes. Whirling around, she tried to get her bearings, but the fall had left her completely disorientated. Half blind, she turned this way and that.

Where were they?

She couldn't see more than a couple of yards in front of her, and her ears rang as her heart pounded.

She tried to calm her mind—a small kernel of hope lay in dematerialising away. Fear clawed at her despite her efforts to centre herself, and she couldn't concentrate well enough to visualise herself anywhere except in the evil clutches of what she knew to be the Fallen.

She took a deep breath. C'mon, Ria. You have to do this.

She tried visualising her flat. She tried visualising Jess... Malandra's place. Jesus, she even tried visualising herself in the queue outside Diablo. Anywhere but there.

A branch snapped to her left.

She spun around, already knowing she'd left it too late. Her vision cleared as the guy from the house came into focus.

"Now, where might you be going, I wonder?" he said with a cracked smile.

She didn't answer.

"I only wanted to talk, Ria." He gestured to the undergrowth at the start of Friarsfield Forest. "All this running about in the woods just won't do."

"Get away from me, you arsehole," she hissed.

He crossed his skinny arms over his chest as his colleagues failed in hiding their amusement. "Is that really any way to talk to your father?"

She'd misheard. Her mind was playing tricks on her. Maybe she'd hit her head harder than she thought. She'd even accept having somehow fallen into an alternate dimension before she would recognise any sort of truth in his words. She stared back at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

His self-satisfied smile told her he believed every word he said.

She took a step back, shaking her head, denial on the tip of her tongue.

"Haven't you ever wondered why you never fit in? Why you always feel like an outsider?"

His question hit a nerve and the urge to nod her head was hard to ignore, but she still didn't believe him. How could she?

"You know me, Ria. You know you do."

What? No I don’t! Yet, as soon as she thought it, doubt fired within her. Swallowing hard, she let her mind reach out to him. He kept most of himself hidden from her psychic eyes—no surprise there—but there was something familiar. She had recognised something in his aura. She couldn't put a name to it, but it was there. She saw something in him that she also saw in herself. Right there, right at the core of his being. But... "You can't be. "

* * *

"Ryver? Kid, you hear me?" The boss's voice floated through his mind.

Yeah. I hear you.

"Wakey, wakey, rise and shine."

Ryver peeled open his eyes. "I am awake," he replied with a voice like gravel.

"How you doing?" Kaden asked.

Ryver ran his tongue over his lips. Not that it did any good. His mouth felt like the bottom of a bird cage. "Just peachy, ta."

"You sound stunning."

Ryver managed to crack a smile. "Thanks." He pulled himself up on the bed. It took a hell of a lot more effort than it should have. "Tell me you found the girl."

Kaden dropped his gaze. "Not yet, but we're on the case. That Roarke kid is sure we'll find her soon."

Ryver's brow knitted. He felt so tired and disorientated. He couldn't quite get his brain in gear. His limbs felt like they were moving through treacle. Only one thing burned like a beacon of hope in the darkness that had descended on him: Ria. "She's important, Kaden."

"I know."

"I can't quite explain it, but... Wait. What do you mean, ‘you know’?"

Kaden ran a hand through his hair, but didn't answer. Ryver threw his mind wide, listening, looking for the reason behind the boss man's silence. Naturally he came up against fucking quadratic equations, but in amongst the jumble of letters and numbers, right there at the edge of Kaden's defences, Ryver thought he caught something. Just one word. Amocinta.

He felt his eyes widen as his jaw went slack. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Damn it, Ryver, stay out of my head."

"Were you going to tell me? Or was it just going to be another one of your secrets, Keeper of the Watch?" He was surprised at the venom in his voice, but he didn't care.

Kaden took a sharp breath. "Have a care with your tone, Guardian."

"Oh fuck off, Kaden."

The Keeper narrowed his eyes at him. "Fine. Soraya has a theory."

Ryver snorted. "This should be good." He aimed for flippant, but even he heard the edge of fear in his voice.

Until six months ago, words like Amocinta were rarely heard. In fact, there were a number of old language words that had all but disappeared from the modern lexicon. Amocinta, or mate, was one of them. Before Lena and Thorn, there had been no new matings in over half a millennium. Mating lore had been forgotten as their magic waned, and in the continual war against the Fallen, everyone had just let it slip away. There'd been relationships. There'd been sex—none of the Order could exactly call themselves a monk—but there had been no true pairings. There had been no younglings.

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck, his awkwardness tangible.

"Come on then. Out with it."

"Right. Well, remember Soraya telling us that Thorn and Lena had to show us the way?"

"Yes."

"It seems the path to true love is once again open."

"What?"

Kaden shifted awkwardly on his feet.

"You were serious?"

He nodded. "Soraya seems to think Ria is more than important to you, kid."

Ryver's jaw hung open. How?

"Look. I have no fucking clue how any of this works. Soraya said it can take centuries, like Lena and Thorn, or it can happen in the blink of an eye. But you saw her what—twice? She might be wrong."

The Princess was never wrong. She never said anything she wasn't sure of, even in her most unguarded of moments.

Ryver stared up at Kaden. "She's my mate." As soon as the words fell from his lips, he could feel the truth in them.

The Keeper's eyes filled with sympathy. "We'll find her."

Ryver swallowed down the sudden fear he felt. "I need to speak to that Sentinel," he said as he struggled off the bed. "Now."

* * *

"Tell me again," Lena demanded as Ryver and Kaden walked into Thorn's office.

The King leant against his antique partner's desk, long legs crossed at the ankle, weariness painted all over his face as he shook his head. "I'm not sure going over this again is going to help, my love."

"I still want to hear it," Lena growled.

Malandra, who had been pacing the room, spun to face the other woman. "His majesty is right. There's nothing more to say. She works, she goes home. That's it. I've been with her practically every moment since she turned twenty-one. She never goes anywhere, never sees anyone."

"You can't possibly have watched her all the time," Kaden interjected.

The Sentinel's thoughts were very guarded, but Ryver still caught a flicker of something. Malandra did her very best to hide her true self, but for a split second, Ryver saw it. "The advantage of being a half-breed," he muttered.

Malandra snapped her head towards him as Kaden asked what he meant.

Ryver crossed his arms over his chest. "You haven't been totally honest with us, have you, Sentinel?"

The woman's violet eyes flew wide, and he heard her mind reeling at the accusation. For a split second, he considered sparing her the exposure, but Ria was all that mattered. Ryver knew as much as anyone how such "gifts" could feel like a millstone around one's neck, but the Sentinel's peculiar ability would come in handy.

"She's a daywalker."

The shocked silence stretched on. Outwardly, of course. Everyone's internal voices were surely loud enough to hear from the moon. Malandra's anger was by far the loudest, and he winced at the furious diatribe her mind screamed at him. He would not apologise though.

"Tell me I misheard you," Kaden whispered.

Ryver shook his head.

Everyone stared at Malandra, a mixture of awe and horror painted on their faces.

All except the Keeper of the Watch. His thoughts were shielded by damned equations again, but his face told Ryver everything he needed to know. The guy was already planning the best way to utilise Malandra's skill.

"Where would she go?" Ryver asked.

Malandra blinked and tried to collect her thoughts. She was angry with him, but honestly, he didn't care.

"I asked you a question."

The Pixie drew herself up to her full height—all five-foot-three of it. "I don't know how many times I can answer the same question. Nowhere. She has no real friends, no one she would turn to."

Ryver swallowed hard. The thought of Ria being so alone weighed heavily on him.

"Boyfriends?" Lena asked.

Ryver hardly registered the hiss that spilled from Kaden's lips as his vision went monochrome. He was in front of Lena in a heartbeat, his lip curled in a snarl. He vaguely felt her shock as she stepped away, but his anger was so fierce he couldn't help advancing on her. The thought of Ria with anyone, ever, made him sick to his stomach. The idea that anyone would defile her, that anyone would touch her, just the thought of it—

Thorn's burning gold eyes appeared in front of him, surrounded by a face full of fury. "What the fuck are you doing, Guardian?"

He heard the words, but they didn't really sink in.

"Stand down, Guardian." Kaden's voice sliced through the confusion and anger in his mind.

The order reverberated through him, dousing his anger in the frigid reality of what he was doing. He staggered backwards, away from Lena and his furious King.

What the hell was he doing?

Kaden's strong hands came down on his shoulders and guided him to one of the Queen Anne chairs in front of Thorn's desk. He sat his arse down before he fell down.

"You'd better have a bloody good explanation, Guardian," Thorn said, barely containing his anger. His thoughts were well guarded, but his aura was awash with fuming crimson.

Ryver just stared up at him, at a complete loss as to what to say. He understood what was happening to him—on some level, at least—but he never expected to be rocked so hard by a few words, a simple suggestion that Ria would be in the arms of another man.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Lena said from behind Thorn.

"Now, what would make Ryver act like a complete dick for no apparent reason? I'm surprised you don't recognise the signs, Thorn," Kaden said with a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the King asked.

"Uncontrollable rage, loss of reason, unquenchable thirst. You know, that sort of thing."

"What's he talking about?" Malandra asked as she joined them.

It can't be. Thorn's thought was loud and clear. He understood just fine. "Jesus." He sank into the opposite chair.

"Ria isn't just important because she may or may not be Asher's daughter. She's important because she would be our sister," Kaden said.

"What?" Lena asked.

"She's Ryver's mate," Thorn whispered.

The onslaught of disbelief hit him like a tidal wave. The Sentinel seemed to be having the most difficulty with the idea. She'd been alone for centuries; she was already struggling with the idea of brotherhood, and mating was a step too far for her. Especially hard since Ria was her only true friend and the thought of losing her was a devastating blow. In a way, Ryver found it comforting because it meant she was concerned about Ria's whereabouts at that moment, but she also had no doubt in her mind they would find her.

The noise in his mind became deafening. Everything merged and he was in danger of drowning in the cacophony of thoughts. "Stop!" he shouted. "Just please, everyone, keep your damned thoughts to yourself!" It was an impossible request—he knew that—but at least everyone tried to dial it down and put up the strongest defenses they could. "Thank you."

"Ryver, I..." Thorn tried to speak, but the words died on his lips.

Sucking in a deep breath, Ryver pulled himself out of the chair. "Lena, I apologise. It won't happen again."

She stared at him, her midnight-blue eyes wide with confusion, before simply nodding.

He returned the gesture before turning to Malandra. "I'll ask you again. Where would she go?"

The Sentinel pushed her purple hair behind her pointed ear, her brow furrowing. "I really don't know."

Frustration fired in the pit of his stomach. Someone must know something. "Not good enough."

Her jaw dropped before she tried to reply.

Ryver cut her off. "Forget it. I know she doesn't have her phone with her. I also know she was hiding from the sun, somewhere small and cramped. Somewhere she hadn't expected to go."

"How the hell do you know that?" Malandra asked.

Ryver just looked at her.

"Oh. Oh! Wow!"

"You heard her?" Kaden asked.

Ryver just nodded. Explanations weren't important. "What about her family?"

"She doesn't have any family," Malandra replied, sounding exasperated.

"I know she doesn't have family now. She did though. She told me. She said she moved to London from Surrey after her foster parents died."

Understanding dawned in Malandra's eyes as Ryver heard something that sent cold, hard fear through his veins.

"Please tell me you're mistaken." It was barely a whisper.

"What? What is it?" Lena asked, moving closer.

"Friarsfield," Malandra answered. "Her foster parents lived in Friarsfield."

Ryver's mind reeled and he had to sit down again. Of all the places in the country, Friarsfield was not one anyone wanted to think about. The previous year, when they'd been tasked with finding a youngling missing for over two centuries, they had all suspected that the Fallen were involved in her disappearance. Lena had taken it upon herself to recce the Fallen stronghold in a disused military barracks on the edge of the Forest of Friarsfield—alone.

When Kaden had followed, intent on making her stick to the plan and join her brothers in a full-scale assault the next night, he'd been gravely injured. Shot in the chest by a booby-trapped crossbow, he'd nearly bled to death. The bastards had loaded the bolt with some kind of auto-syringe full of an anticoagulant unlike anything they'd ever seen before, and Kaden had needed several transfusions before they could even think about getting the barbed arrow out of him.

Ryver risked a glance at the boss man and wished he hadn't. The guy's face was drawn tight and his normally pale blue eyes burned sapphire. He'd never say it, but Ryver knew that wound still caused him pain, still weakened him unexpectedly. And just like that, the expression on Kaden's face changed, as if he'd pushed whatever he was feeling to one side. Ria was Ryver's mate. The protection and brotherhood the Order offered him extended to her without question or hesitation. It was a matter of honour, and Kaden was the most honourable man Ryver had ever known.

Kaden nodded. "Then that's where we go."