As soon as a nightmarish fog of sleep pulled me under, I found myself crawling over a dusty field, blood pouring from my gut.

Pain splintered my body, each movement an agony.

Sand coated my throat, and the thought of water pierced my mind like an arrow. Had I made it away from them?

I looked up at the night sky, hoping to find the answers etched there, hoping to find salvation. I found only the icy, uncaring gleam of the stars. As dizziness overwhelmed me, I searched for Gemini among the constellations. My vision blurred.

I just needed to rest for a moment. I fell back hard on the dusty earth, gasping for breath.

After a moment, the sound of footfalls chilled me to the marrow. Before I could scramble to my feet, he was on top of me, moonlight washing over his beautiful features. He held me down, his grip firm, pain blazing in his arctic, silver-flecked eyes.

Sorrow welled in my chest. I never thought it would be him.

I opened my mouth to plead with him, but already his blade was at my throat. A final, desperate will to live surged through my body.

But it was too late. The blade pierced my throat.

My own scream jolted me awake, and I gripped the covers to my chest, my heart slamming against my ribs. Frantically I searched my surroundings, trying to get my bearings.

It wasn’t until the door slammed open and the Lord of Cambridge strode in that I remembered exactly where I was, and that I was sleeping in nothing but his shirt.

He sat on the edge of the bed, searching my face in the dim light. “What are you screaming for? What’s happened?”

I shook my head. “Just a nightmare. Sorry for waking you.”

“A nightmare about what?” His voice sounded soft, for once, and the question surprised me. I hadn’t expected him to be interested in my dreams.

I shook my head. “A battlefield, I think. Except I was the only one there, and I was crawling over the ground. Near death.” I swallowed hard. “Someone found me. A warrior. He stabbed me in the neck.”

“There you are,” he murmured, looking me over with the most open expression I’d seen on his face since I’d met him. “You’re remembering.”

I blinked. “Remembering what?”

His body stiffened, gaze shuttering. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

And with that, he left me alone in the dark.

* * *

It was late afternoon the next day when the Academy meeting convened. I sat in Balthazar’s living room, dressed in my now-dry white dress. I took a sip of lemonade, awaiting the arrival of the members of the Academy of Light, whoever the heck they were.

What I was not expecting was Raphael Valis to walk into the room—the stunning man from the cemetery. At the sight of the tattoos snaking over his body, which almost seemed to glow with a golden light, my jaw dropped. My face heated at the memory of our first meeting—specifically, Raphael’s encounter with my breasts.

He sat next to me on the sofa, and my eyes trailed over the whorls of starry tattoos on his muscled forearms. Amusement danced in his blue and gold eyes as he looked back at me. Everything about him screamed seduction.

A wicked smile curled his sensual lips. “Dawn. I believe we’ve met before.” His British-accented voice slipped around my body like a caress, luring me into his spell. “How could I forget the Queen of Venom?”

Even that simple sentence had a strangely erotic tinge, and my cheeks flushed. “Right. Yes. Cemetery. Spider.”

He stared at me.

Idiot. Try again. “So, you know Balthazar.” I’d already seen them together; I guess this explained it. But it really didn’t explain anything else. Like what the ‘Academy‘ actually was.

Before Raphael could answer, Balthazar stalked into the room, narrowing his eyes at Raphael and me.

“You two look cozy already.” A hint of steel undercut his tone, like the sight of us together annoyed him.

Ignoring Balthazar’s comment, Raphael reached over the edge of the sofa for a decanter, pouring himself a measure. “Balto. Please tell me this isn’t the cheap stuff.”

“As if I’d buy anything cheap.” He settled into an armchair across from us. “Sebastos is on his way in.”

Raphael put his feet up on Balthazar’s coffee table, leaning back into the sofa, all easy grace. “I’ve missed the comforts of your home.”

Balthazar arched an eyebrow. “It’s a far cry from your East London slums. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable sweeping a chimney somewhere, or stealing an eel pie to fill your stomach?”

Raphael snorted. “I never stole a day in my life. I earned my wages.”

I frowned. “Chimney sweeps? Eel pies? What decade are you both from?”

Balthazar arched an eyebrow, and a heavy silence fell over the room. Raphael flashed a wry smile. “Bit of a sore subject for old Balthazar, now that you mention it.”

I blinked. Raphael looked a little younger than Balthazar—maybe in his twenties—but both looked to be in their prime.

I could feel Raphael’s eyes on me, studying me closely, and a flush spread over my chest. I couldn’t explain the fact that I wanted to move closer to both of these men, even though they unnerved me. “So it’s just you three?”

“We’re missing a few,” said Balthazar. “They’ve gone rogue.”

“And I don’t suppose there are any women among the experts of the Academy?” I asked.

“No,” said Raphael. “An unfortunate oversight.”

The floor creaked, and a long shadow crept into the room, followed by one of the largest men I’d ever seen in my life. ‘Man’ might be too tame a word for what he was, given that his muscled body took up the entire doorframe. I stared at his deep caramel skin. His eyes were a deep hazel, fading to gold at the edges, and the corners of his mouth quirked upward, giving him a contemplative look.

His size, the serious expression on his face—everything about him screamed warrior.

“Sebastos,” said Raphael. “You’re going to miss all the whiskey.”

Sebastos merely grunted in response. With his eyes still on me, the warrior moved into the room. The man looked like he could break any errant predators in half with his fingertips, or possibly his mind. He also looked like he could pull me into his lap and—

Why was I thinking about curling up in his lap? I had no idea. I shook my head, clearing the stray thought.

Sebastos took a seat across from Raphael and me, his large forearms overhanging the armchair.

Raphael poured a finger of whiskey into a tumbler, then shoved it into my hand, plucking out my lemonade with the other. He clinked his tumbler against mine, his blue gaze incendiary. “To the first woman to attend a meeting of the Academy of Light, a formidable goddess with dominion over arachnids.”

I straightened my spine. Wasn’t it a bit strange that they were accepting me so easily? A secretive organization composed entirely of men allowing an errant homeless woman into their midst—one who draped underwear over lighting fixtures?

Balthazar tapped his armrests, the gesture strangely hypnotic. “Now, we all know why we’re here.”

“Not even close to being true,” I said. When the three of them stared at me irritably, I added, “but go on.”

Balthazar’s gaze was on me. “We’re drawn to each other.”