I stared at the text from Taylem and ignored the fluent foreign cursing spilling from Azren’s lips as he paced back and forth across the entrance of the mausoleum. His hands were on his hips, chin tucked in, shoulders heaving. The last couple of days he’d been losing it more often, little bursts of anger that he managed to tamp down on quickly enough, but it went against the cold, controlled fury he usually displayed. My eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight after being underground for so long, and my head was beginning to throb dully. His ranting wasn’t helping.

Azren punched the stone mausoleum and then glared at the unaffected spot on the structure as if it had said something offensive. The wound on his hand healed in a matter of seconds, and he pulled back for another throwdown.

“Will you stop fighting the building? You’re giving me a headache from having to cringe so much.”

He began to pace again. “I was sure we’d find something this time. A route we’d missed, something.”

“Well we didn’t, so let’s just go.” The sun was high. We’d been scrambling about under the earth for hours. “I have a contact that’s looking into procuring us some undercity maps. Sewers, that kind of thing. If there’s any record of what’s down there, then he’ll find it. Until then, this is a waste of time.”

“So what would you rather be doing with our time?” His tone was heavy with sarcasm as he fixed his disgruntled gaze on me.

Gosh, he was a bear with a sore head today. I held up my phone. “Tay’s throwing a party for the regulars. It’s Fergus’s birthday. The neph is going to be a hundred and twenty.”

“You want to go to a party?” His voice dropped an octave, a sure sign he was pissed.

Okay, so now he’d decided to switch back to controlled fury.

I shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “Sure.”

He stalked toward me, and it took everything in my power not to back the fuck up, because he was still vibrating with anger, and yeah, it wasn’t directed at me, but still, it spilled out of him, pouring off him in waves and teasing to life primal instinct. And when he was like this—getting up close and personal—it was impossible to forget he was a monster. That he could end me as easily as snuffing out a candle if he wished. My thoughts must have shown on my face, because he brought himself to a halt a couple of feet away, tucked in his chin, and ran a hand through his tousled locks.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said gruffly. The anger had bled from his tone, and my muscles unknotted.

“Like what? Like you’re fucking insane?”

“Yes, like that.”

“Then control your fucking temper.”

He glanced up. “It’s part of who I am, just like your incessant use of the word fuck is part of you.”

It was more than that, though, and it had taken time for me to notice it, but when I had there was no unseeing it. It sat beneath a tightly controlled facade, a different kind of monster, one sown from incomprehensible fury. The cold control was a mask, and yeah, we didn’t want that slipping.

I blew out a breath, not wanting to agitate him any further, because poking bears was just dumb and a great way to get your face chewed off. So I chose my next words carefully. “I can’t help but notice you’ve been in extra angry-mode recently.”

This time he did approach me, stopping a mere hairbreadth away and forcing me to tilt my chin to look up at him, to stare into his primal, brutal face and trace the scar that ran from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth.

“I hate you for being the reason I had to come here.” His voice vibrated with anger, and a chill shot through my bones. I took a step back, but his hands whipped out to grab hold of my shoulders, fingers biting into my flesh. “But this world, your world, and you, infuriating as you are, have become important to me.” A dark emotion I couldn’t define flitted across his face, and then his words registered and my gaze shot up to meet his furious one. He hated this. He hated that he cared about me. His next words confirmed it. “It would ... pain me to see you hurt.” He bit out the words reluctantly, his mouth twisting.

This hadn’t been the plan, growing closer hadn’t been the plan, for either of us, it seemed. My stomach churned, and my throat was suddenly dry. Pull it together, Bastion, it’s not as if he just declared his undying devotion. Then why was there a dastardly lump in my throat?

He exhaled slowly through his nose and grazed my cheek with his knuckles, leaving tingles in his wake before dropping his hand. “Time is running out, Wila, for the both of us.” His voice was a low rumble.

His lips were so close, so tantalizingly close, and fuck, I didn’t even care about the teeth that lay beyond. The cut and shred would be worth it for just one taste. Oh, God. What was I thinking? What was he doing to me? What the fuck was this? Heat climbed up my body from the tips of my toes to the roots of the hair on my head.

I needed something to break the spell, anything. “I can stop swearing if I want to.” The words came out sounding petulant and sulky rather than the teasing, light essence I’d been going for.

The darkness in his eyes intensified, and his hand was back again, palm bridging my collarbones, fingers wrapped around my throat. He could kill me now, squeeze the life from me, and I’d let him, because at least he’d be touching me. His grip tightened a fraction, sending a lance of heat through me. His thumb stroked the column of my throat as if soothing me into submission. I caught a flash of torment in his eyes, and then his mouth dipped toward mine.

I needed to turn away, pull back, but fuck if I had the willpower to do anything but accept my fate. The brush of his mouth sent fire racing through my veins, and then, feather-light, his tongue swept across my bottom lip, breaking what little willpower I had left. My resolve melted and my mouth parted like a bloom desperate to taste the sun. A sharp pain sliced across my temple, and my lips twisted in pain.

He froze, his body tensing, and then he pulled back. “You’re in pain.” He peeled his fingers from my throat, leaving me suddenly cold and bereft. “I hurt you.” He sounded matter-of-fact, resigned almost.

“No. You didn’t. It’s just my head. I’ll be fine.”

He studied me carefully, as if he could look into my brain and root out the problem and fix it. “You’ve been having a lot of headaches.”

I blinked up at him, surprised he’d noticed, that he’d been paying attention. It gave me the warm fuzzies, and those were dangerous. Sexual attraction was one thing, a quick fling would be fine, but the connection between us was like ivy, stubborn and tenacious. It burrowed in deep, threading its way through my veins and lying dormant, lulling me into a false sense of control that evaporated every time he invaded my personal space, every time his lips lifted in an almost-smile, and every time his obsidian pupils dilated when they fell on me. The fact that my being in pain bothered him, the fact he was affected, tugged at the forbidden strings of my heart. Things could easily get out of my control. If we went that route, there would only be heartache for the both of us, because he belonged to the Westside, he belonged to the queen bitch. The connection growing between us couldn’t be allowed to develop.

I gently extricated myself from his grasp, ignoring the ache at my solar plexus. “Stress can do that to you.” My voice came out strong, belying everything I was feeling. “And if you hadn’t noticed, we’re kinda swimming in stress right now.” But I knew what could help. Matron’s herbal tea. “Come on. I need to make a stop on the way home.”

Forget the moment, forget the almost-kiss.

Just forget it, dammit.

“Wila!” Miss Hamilton pulled me into a hug.

The aroma of lavender soothed the throb in my temples, but the reprieve was momentary.

She released me and cupped my face, her lips pursing in a frown. “You look ill. Are you ill?”

“Headache. I was hoping to grab some of your herbal tea.”

“Of course, I just brewed some actually. You can have a cup while I pack some up for you.” She made to usher me into the house and paused, her gaze cutting to the gate where Azren waited.

“Wila Bastion, you’re not seriously going to leave your friend outside, are you?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Azren, who had his lips pressed together to hide his teeth, and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, he’ll be fine.”

Miss Hamilton arched her brow so high it almost disappeared into her hairline. Oops, I knew that look, it was the one that preceded the lecture on etiquette and manners, and there was no fighting it.

I held up my hands. “Okay, fine. Azren, would you like to come in?”

Matron dropped the brow, a small smile playing on her lips.

Azren looked from me to Matron and then back again. He was probably wondering if this was a trick question since I’d spent the last five minutes telling him how it was imperative that Miss Hamilton didn’t find out what he was, and that he needed to stay outside to avoid scaring the kids with his teeth, blah, blah.

“I’m fine here, thank you,” he said finally.

“Nonsense,” Miss Hamilton exclaimed. “You will come in, and you will have some tea. It’s not often I get to meet Wila’s new friends.” She waved her hand at him in a hurry-along gesture, one that had always had us picking up the pace as kids. Apparently, it worked on adults too. Azren strode up the path and climbed the steps onto the porch. Miss Hamilton beamed at him. He blinked down at her, and then offered her a close-lipped smile.

She patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all right, dear. I know what you are. You can relax now.”

She did?

Matron chuckled. “Don’t look so horrified, Wila. Glamour has never worked too well on me.” She led us into the house. “The kids are in the garden. Go through into the kitchen. There’s a pot of tea on the table. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

She walked briskly down the hallway and through the arch that led to the back of the house. I gripped Azren’s elbow and steered him into the kitchen to our left. It was by far my most favorite room in the house. Homey, warm, and cozy, it caught the most light and was always filled with sunshine.

“She can see through my glamour.” Azren sounded impressed.

“And she hasn’t pissed herself in fright. I always knew that woman was hardcore.”

“You find my countenance frightening?”

“Huh?”

“My unglamoured self. You find it distasteful. Horrific?”

There was an edge to his tone, the kind that warned that the incorrect response could lead to problems. But the truth, the absolute truth, was out of the question, because telling him that my body ached to feel his, and that my lips yearned to touch his, wasn’t going to help either of us.

“Look, you may be Mr. Hot and Trending in the Shedim world, but on this side of the border, your true form would send neph screaming into the night.”

He flinched and then speared me with his compelling gaze. “And you? What about you?” He canted his head. “Would you run screaming into the night?”

I sighed. “The first time I met you, I have to admit, bladder control was a serious concern. But I’ve had the opportunity to get to know you, and your unglamoured form isn’t an issue for me anymore.” I shrugged. “Probably because I’ve seen you inhale pizza and make a whole plate of waffles disappear in a matter of seconds.”

He gave me a level look that said, really? That’s your reason?

“Fine. You saved my life at the risk of your own. Trust me, your grrr face doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re not afraid of me?”

The hesitation in his tone tugged at my heart. “I’m not afraid of you, because I know you. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

His expression hardened. “You’re wrong. I can and will hurt you.” He gripped my shoulders. “If I come at you, if you feel threatened, then you run, because fighting me won’t be an option.”

His words filled my veins with ice. “What do you mean?”

He released me abruptly, picked up the pot of tea, and poured me a cup. “Drink your tea.”

I accepted the cup. “No, explain yourself.”

He pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m not always a master of my own actions. If Elora issues a command, then I must obey.”

“So, if she asks you to hurt me, you’ll have no choice.”

He poured himself a cup of tea. “Yes. If she asks me to hurt you, I won’t be able to refuse her.”

No hesitation, no doubt. He stared at me flatly, impassively.

There was a lump in my throat again, but for altogether different reasons now. “Okay, good to know.”

He graced me with a slow blink. “We’ll find the Shedim base. It won’t come to that.”

His earlier anxiety now made sense. His concern for my welfare, for the pain that would be inflicted on me. He was afraid he’d have to be the one doing the inflicting, and his optimism now was a clever front to soothe me. Why did I have to be so damned perceptive?

I sat on the nearest seat with a thump and took a gulp of the fragrant tea—unsweetened and clean, just the way I liked it—and echoed his words. “It won’t come to that.”

A small figure dashed past the kitchen, leaving the echo of sobs in its wake. The thud of footsteps running up the stairs followed a moment later.

Miss Hamilton entered the room soon after, her lips turned down in disapproval.

I put down my cup. “What happened?”

“Kids being cruel.” She glanced heavenward. “They’ve been teasing little Amber about her resemblance to Noir again. They’ve decided she’s his unwanted spawn.”

“Was that her hurtling upstairs a moment ago?”

Matron pressed her lips together and nodded.

Indignation flared in my chest. “I hate bullies.”

“I know.”

“You mind if I go up and talk to her?”

She shrugged. “Be my guest. I’m sure Azren and I will find something to talk about.” She smiled fondly at the Shedim, which was crazy considering she could see his true form. She shooed me out of the kitchen. “I have lemon cake when you get down.”

Oh, God, love me some lemon cake. “Can I move back in?”

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Get away with you.”

I left her to converse with Azren and headed up the two flights of steps to the second floor, where the kids were housed. There were five rooms in total, and each housed two children, but the sound of heartbroken sobs led me to the tiny room at the far end of the corridor—a single room, my old room. Nostalgia squeezed my heart and stung the back of my nose. It was a strange coincidence that this out-of-place child should take up residence in my old haven.

This room held so many memories, happy and sad, and I’d been lucky it hadn’t ended up being my final resting place. The fever had taken me just after my eighteenth birthday. I’d never seen Matron worried about sickness until that night. Heck, I’d never been sick before. But being sick had felt like dying, and then the angel had come—eyes like cold fire and fingers like ice. His hair had been silver light, and his lips, when they’d brushed against mine, had tasted of cinnamon. The next morning the fever was gone. And two days later, the letter from the law firm had landed on the doorstep. Thank God I’d lived long enough to collect my inheritance from a relative who hadn’t bothered to claim me when he’d been alive. Matron had speculated that maybe I’d been the product of an Arcana and neph union, but with no Arcane ability to speak of, it was unlikely.

Well, with that trip down memory lane over, I focused on the sobs filtering through the door. Poor kid. If there was a way for me to make it better ...

I rapped on the door and the sobs halted abruptly. “Hi, my name’s Wila. I used to live here. In this room, actually. I was wondering if we could chat?”

There was a deep, contemplative silence and then the sound of muffled footsteps. The door opened a crack and a tear-stained face peered out, eyes wide.

“Hi.” I raised a hand in greeting.

“You’re Wila Bastion? The Wila Bastion who catches monsters?”

“The one and only.”

She opened the door a little wider. “Why would you want to talk to me?”

Oh, man. She looked so much like Noir that it took everything I had not to stare. Instead, I gave her my best confident smile and crouched down to her eye level. “I heard the other kids were being a little mean to you.” I winced. “I really don’t have time for bullies, and I just wanted to check that you were okay.”

Her lips tightened. “You were bullied?”

I sighed and nodded. “Yep. In fact, this used to be my room when I lived here.”

Her eyes widened. “It did?”

“Yep. I think some of the others were jealous I got a room to myself, to be honest.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Honestly?”

She nodded.

“I cried. I cried a lot, and then I decided I was done crying, and I punched Garret in the face.”

She blinked at me in horror.

Oops. “Not that I’m saying you should punch anyone, just that ...” I sighed. “Okay, I’m doing this all wrong. What I mean to say is that if you show them that they’re getting to you, then they’ll keep doing it. So ... why don’t you tell me what they’ve been saying?”

She gnawed on her bottom lip for a second. “They say Adam Noir is my dad, and he dumped me here because he doesn’t want me. That he only comes to check on me because he feels guilty, but not enough to take me with him.”

I shook my head. Fucking Noir. How could he be so stupid? Did he not see the resemblance? “What do you think?”

She dropped her gaze and wrung her hands. “Sometimes I want it to be true. Sometimes I wish he was my dad; at least I’d know where I came from. But then the others remind me what that would really mean. It would mean he didn’t want me.”

“You know what I think?”

She looked up, her baby blues, so similar to Noir’s, locking onto me with hope.

“I think they’re jealous. I mean, you do look like Noir, and he is pretty amazing. I bet they wish he was their dad, regardless of whether he put them here or not. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be related to an Arcana?”

She blinked, absorbing this explanation. “You know him?”

“Yes, we’re kinda, sorta friends.”

“So, you’d know for sure, right?”

Oh, God. She looked so hopeful, but what was it she was hoping for. Either way, there was no way the truth could come out, not if she was to survive.

“Yes, I know for sure he doesn’t have any children.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Oh. Good. I mean, that’s really good.” She looked up again. “Can you tell the others that?”

“If that’s what you want, sure I can. But I’ll need a slice of lemon cake first.”

An hour later, Azren and I made our way down the porch steps, a packet of homemade herbal tea in my hand and a tiffin of lemon cake in Azren’s. We were halfway down the path when footfalls clattered after us.

Amber grabbed my hand. “Thank you for making them stop.”

“No problem.”

She ducked her head. “And when you see him ... When you see Adam, can you say hi from me?”

There was a conspiratorial glint in her eye, a half-smile on her lips. She knew. She fucking knew.

“Sure. I’ll pass that on.”

She released my hand and skipped back up the path and into the house.

Noir was going to have to sort this out, and fast.