“Unlike you, I’m not one to bury my head in the sand.” Sydney jerked her arm free and turned to stomp away.

He grabbed her arm again. “What does that bloody mean?”

“These people need you. And you plan to turn your back on them because you think it’s not your fight? I never knew Marines were afraid.”

Caden’s blue eyes narrowed. “Is that what you think? I’m not afraid of fighting. If I survived two tours in Iraq, I can survive this, I assure you.”

“Then explain why you won’t fight with your people.”

His grip loosened, and he pulled away. “I left England and everyone magical I knew at eighteen. All this wand waving and the like, it isn’t normal.”

“Normal? You’ve already transitioned. You can’t change that. What magickind can do is so extraordinary . . . amazing. Humans would kill to have your abilities. A gift like yours can help take down a madman. And you want to walk away from it?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, mouth thin with anger. “Why don’t you want to follow your parents and join the academic crowd?”

Sydney hesitated. “I just didn’t. It didn’t fit me.”

“Precisely!” Caden threw his hands wide.

If anyone tried to force her into that tediously dull and pretentious academic scene, they’d have to drag her kicking and screaming. She didn’t fit there. Square peg, round hole. But this wasn’t about a career. This was his heritage! She sensed Caden’s reticence was deep.

He wasn’t being completely honest with her. Given that, how could he possibly claim she was important? He’d demonstrated that he felt responsible for her, but his unwillingness to truly share himself said he didn’t love her. And it hurt.

“They need you,” she said quietly.

He shook his head. “They need someone passionate about their cause. That isn’t me.”

“What’s the real reason?” She should bloody stop trying to make him share himself, but she kept hoping.

Caden recoiled. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

He didn’t trust her, not with his story, not with his secrets. Not with his heart. And he didn’t care for her enough to try. She had no one to blame but herself. Bloody stupid impulse to write in the book.

“I can’t make you. It’s simply . . . Bram and the others won’t survive without able wizards on their side.”

Caden closed his eyes, and Sydney almost regretted her words . . . almost. But she couldn’t skirt the truth. Even if he didn’t want to hear it, he belonged here. He was a wizard. By virtue of his brother’s illness and his sister-in-law’s rape, he had a stake in this fight. Heck, she barely knew Anka and had never seen Lucan, but already her heart went out to them. And for the people who had tried to help Aquarius, she resolved to help however she could.

Caden shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. “More Tynans will appear at Bram’s door as word inevitably spreads.”

She hoped so. “Why doesn’t everyone know about Mathias and the Doomsday Brethren?” Sydney anchored a hand on her hip. “I gather Bram wants to keep the Doomsday Brethren hush-hush from the Council so he can operate without their interference, but Tynan has only heard whispers of Mathias’s return. And people are being attacked. What’s going on?”

Caden pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bram sits on the magical Council that governs magickind. There are seven councilmen in total. Tynan O’Shea’s grandfather is among them. Bram has pushed to advise magickind about Mathias, but the rest of the Council are controlling bastards who prefer to pretend problems don’t exist. Bram wants a transcast. It’s a television-like broadcast using magical mirrors, for lack of a better description. They were established for just such emergencies.”

“And the Council said no?” Sydney’s jaw dropped.

“They don’t see this as an emergency. Some even write off the ‘problem’ as pranksters stirring up trouble for the sport of scaring people.”

“That’s insane! If they had seen Anka’s condition . . . the poor woman could barely speak coherently when I first met her. And this Auropha woman; Mathias killed her. Hardly a prank!”

“Despite the fact Auropha MacKinnett’s father sat on the Council and the girl was murdered by Mathias, the Council won’t budge. Bram says they are a traditional lot. I think they’re afraid.”

“Magickind should know. This is censorship! And very dangerous to people caught unaware. I want to talk to Bram.” The first item on her agenda was the thing she excelled at most. “Everyone must know about Mathias so they can protect themselves.”

He frowned. “Why do you want to talk to Bram?”

“I’ve never done a . . . what did you call it? Transcast. But I am a reporter. In an emergency, I don’t have to be magical or entertaining, just informational.”

He leaned in with a scowl. “You want to transcast to magickind?”

“It’s the only way I can help. I’ll never learn to fight or be able to wave a wand. But by God, I can keep people informed.”

Caden knew his mouth gaped open. Did Sydney have any notion of the target she’d be painting on herself if she transcasted? All of magickind would see her face. Especially Mathias. No one he attacked put up a fight, because they were unprepared. And for breaking that secrecy, he’d want her dead. Caden couldn’t help but admire her courage and willingness but . . .

“No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not your choice, Caden. You’ll be returning to Dallas alone, remember?”

She brushed past him out the dining room and into the hall. She was headed to the back door, where she’d join all the others and embroil herself deeper into this morass. He’d failed Lucan with his inability to return Anka. He’d failed Anka by letting her slip through his fingers. He would not fail Sydney by letting her place herself in mortal danger. Even if he couldn’t mate with her, the thought of her dying . . . it flattened his soul.

Caden stalked into the hall, then grabbed her arm. “You cannot do this. The fact I’m not staying doesn’t bloody mean I don’t care.”

“No, the fact you won’t be honest about your reasons for avoiding magic tells me you don’t.”

Damn, the woman was too bloody smart by half. He grabbed her shoulders and brought her against him. “I won’t see you hurt or worse.”

“You may be comfortable retreating, but I’m not. I can help. There’s nothing I can do for Aquarius, but I can try to make certain no one else suffers her fate. Or Anka’s. Since you and I are through, and you’re unwilling to stay and fight Mathias or fight for us, we have nothing to say.”

A tennis-ball–sized lump of apprehension stuck in his throat. After a few days here, she didn’t have a proper grasp on magickind’s real peril. He had to stop her. If he failed . . . the thought of Mathias hurting her was so painful, he nearly staggered to his knees.

“The hell we don’t!”

She glanced at him over her shoulder, those arrow-sharp eyes of hers piercing him with fire. Her red hair floated around her shoulders, curled halfway down her back. Even in anger, she was a beauty. He couldn’t let her talk Bram into a transcast. It would mean her death.

Pumped full of protective fury, Caden charged after Sydney and scooped her up against him, lifting her off her feet to carry her into the nearest room with a closed door, the library.

Sydney wriggled and grunted in frustration. “Put me down, damn you!”

Lightning tore through him as she moved against him. But despite his hunger for her, they had to talk. She had to see reason, damn it.

He plopped her on Bram’s plush sofa, and she sprawled out beneath him, eyes spitting fury. Desire sparked in his veins. Everything inside him tensed as he tried to ignore it.

“Let me be very clear, Sydney: You are not transcasting.”

She scoffed. “I’m a grown woman who makes her own decisions. Besides, how will you stop me once you’re gone?”

Her challenge hit him like a hammer. She was right. If he found Anka and righted Lucan’s life and departed, Sydney would be left to her own devices.

Not bloody likely.

“Until you realize the folly of your idea, I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’ll be staying very close to you.”

Sydney raised a ginger brow. “Go away.”

Her dismissal riled his mating instinct and urge to protect. The human signs of her arousal exploded across his brain—her peachy-floral scent, peaked nipples, the heat in her eyes.

Caden shook his head. “I’ll remain so close you’ll feel my breath on the back of your neck. Constantly.”

She stilled, her breath turning rougher. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No, you need a keeper, and I’m him.”

With an outraged gasp, she began squirming, trying to worm free. Her arching and bucking inflamed already sizzling nerves.

“Stop it!” He clamped his hands on her hips to still her.

“Make me.”

Her dare went straight to his core. Heat bolted through him, and instinct overruled logic. Mine. Take. Now!

Breathing hard, he fitted his body completely over hers until their lips were inches apart. The temptation of her little red mouth was right under his, and the urge to taste it for the first time nearly consumed him. Just once . . .

One kiss would be the nail in his coffin. Would it be so bad? A needling voice in his head asked the insidious question. What if they mated and she transcasted and he lost her? He would become a carbon copy of his brother. She was so intent on slaying the evil she didn’t understand, it would kill her.

The thought made him grab her tighter, as if he could take every part of her into him and keep her safe. His body pulsed, electric. She was so warm and vital and female, and he needed her with a desperation that bordered insanity.

Trailing kisses across her cheek, he dared to brush the corner of her mouth. The sweet scent of her nearly overcame him. He grabbed the edge of the sofa in one hand, her hip in the other, barely restraining the urge to devour every part of her with his mouth. Determined to distract them both, he kissed his way down her throat, down to the soft skin above her breasts, rising and falling rapidly.

“Caden, this is insane. We should talk.” Smart words, but her voice was breathy.

“We did.”

Shoving her T-shirt aside, he inhaled deeply. Since transition, his sense of smell was keener. Though he knew she’d showered since they’d last made love, he smelled himself on her, and it aroused him out of his mind. Skin. He needed her bare skin—against his hands and his tongue.

“But—”

Caden wrapped his fingers around the clasp of her bra and yanked. It snapped into pieces. When he laved her nipple with his tongue, Sydney moaned, and he smiled in satisfaction. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him. Her breathing, accelerated heartbeat, alluring smell, fingernails in his shoulders—all told him the truth.

“Damn it, how do you reduce me to a puddle in moments?” she panted.

“You do the same to me.”

With a quick yank, he doffed his shirt, then tugged hers over her head. Thank God she was wearing a flowing skirt, which was blessedly easy to flip up. The knickers beneath provided no barrier for his insistent hands. Next thing he knew, he had his fingers buried between her slick folds, counting the seconds until his cock could replace them.

The feel of her enticed him—her little pebbled coral-pink nipples, the way she wrapped her fists in his hair and looked at him as if his touch was her whole world. Wriggling his fingers inside her, he felt her sweet spot, massaged it. She gasped, climbing closer, closer to the edge of pleasure.

Extracting his fingers, he brushed the wet tip of her clit gently, a slow, maddening caress that had her whimpering and calling his name. And he loved it, needing her to need him. As he needed her.

After making quick work of his button and zip, he shoved his jeans past his hips and spread her thighs wider.

“Caden, wait,” she panted. “We haven’t settled the matter.”

“Do you truly want to stop?” If she said yes, it would kill him, but he would get up. Zip up. Walk away.

Time ceased. Sydney hesitated. A dozen seconds or more passed in silence. That answered his question . . . not that he blamed her. Caden caressed her cheek, smoothed his thumb over her brow, then made to rise.

She tightened her arms around him. “I’ll likely regret this later, but stay.”

Caden smiled. Even while his logical mind was screaming that he was playing with fire, the reckless side of him was looking forward to the burn.

Wrapping his arms around Sydney, he gathered her up, lifting her hips to him. He paused to worship one breast with his mouth, then the other. She wrapped her legs around him and tried to urge him higher up her body, inside her. She didn’t have to invite him twice.

“Are you still sore?” When he’d touched her, she’d felt swollen.

“A bit . . . but not enough to stop you.”

Resolving to be gentle, he positioned himself at her entrance and pressed slowly. Beneath him, she tensed by degrees, and he withdrew slightly. When she relaxed, he edged forward, deeper, then back out when her body objected. Back and forth, back and forth. Seconds turned to minutes, and still he wasn’t completely inside her. His eyes were about to cross from the tight, wet friction of her around him—along with the mingling of their scents.

There. Finally, he was as deep as possible. Sydney was heaven, and he intended to enjoy every inch of her now, while she was all his.

She laid a series of kisses on his cheek, his throat, his shoulder, as he buried his face in her fragrant neck and gently thrust. Immediately, he groaned. Something was happening here; something new, more intense. Amazing.

A deep breath in, out, as he pushed deeper, easing inside her again. Another need, a dangerous one, rose up. He bit his tongue, squinting hard against the urge, but once the words scorched his brain, he couldn’t stop.