Chapter Two

Viviana stood there, flustered and flushed. Her whole body was shaking by the time she heard her front door swing shut.

She hurried to check and make sure he hadn’t faked her out and gone roaming her home. She wouldn’t have put it past him to do just that—stomping through her personal, private space as if he owned it.

Through the curtains, she saw the big shadow of his body move smoothly down her steps and out onto the street. She parted the lace panels and watched him go. He had far too much grace for a man his size. It was hard not to stare as he moved, his long limbs loose and strong as he strode away. He almost seemed to glide across the snow. Only his big footprints gave away the fact that he walked like anyone else, one foot in front of the other.

A passing truck obscured her vision, releasing her from whatever spel he’d had on her.

She turned, refusing to look again for fear she’d be sucked back into his gliding stride.

He was bluffing about staying nearby. She was sure of it. It was just a tactic meant to force her to comply with his wishes.

As if she would bend so easily. She might not be some huge, hulking man, but she was no wilting flower, either. She hadn’t yet met the man who could make her back down. That gadget, as he’d cal ed it, was hers and she was keeping it, regardless of any lies he might tel her about his dying friend.

Avid col ectors would say anything to acquire an item they sought. He was just one more.

Viviana locked her door and fetched a towel, broom, and dustpan to clean up the broken glass.

Her hands were stil shaking, and as she picked up a large shard of glass it sliced across her finger. A few drops of blood stained the towel as she finished cleaning up the mess.

Irritation tightened her shoulders. It wasn’t like her to let a man—or anyone, for that matter—

rattle her so deeply. She needed to find her sense of calm and put him out of her mind. She refused to dwel on Mr. Etan for one more moment. She had more important things to worry about, like why a living, breathing man felt the same to her as the artifacts from a long-dead ancient race.

Maybe it was that ring he wore. She’d never seen anything like it before. Maybe it was an artifact that cal ed to her, not the man himself.

That made much more sense and settled her nerves. Her shoulders relaxed as she decided that must be the case. The answer would be somewhere in her books. Al she had to do was find it.

Viviana went to her third-floor study, and had just laid out the first ancient book in her col ection

—the one with a barren tree embossed on the leather cover—when she heard a faint scratching sound.

She peeked out the window, expecting to see animals pawing through the trash cans in the al ey below. Instead, when the noise came again, it was behind her, in the hal way. Inside the house.

She whirled around, her heart pounding in her throat.

She told herself it was just a rat. She’d cal an exterminator and the problem would be solved.

Instincts that were rusty from disuse screamed otherwise. There was someone in the house. Or something.

Her imagination ran wild with the images of horrible beasts she’d seen in her texts. Claws and teeth and horns mingled together into a massive col age of childish nightmares.

Viviana picked up a hefty brass candlestick. The smooth metal slid around inside the white cotton gloves she’d donned to handle her books. She gripped it tighter and stepped to the right to peer into the hal way.

She’d turned the hal way light off in her determination to be more environmental y conscious.

She’d turned the hal way light off in her determination to be more environmental y conscious.

Stupid, stupid move. Now she couldn’t see a thing.

A feral hiss rose up from the darkness, positioned too high to have come from a rat on the floor.

She kicked the door open wider with the toe of her shoe, hoping to shed some light into the hal .

A faint glow reached halfway across the space. Beyond that light, she saw glowing eyes at about waist height. They were a bright, sickly green. That green glow flared brighter and the hissing noise got louder.

The scratching sound came again, closer, and this time she heard it for what it was: claws on her hardwood flooring.

The thing stepped forward, landing one foot in the rectangle of light. The paw was huge. Furry.

Easily as big as her hand, tipped with oily black claws.

Whatever it was, it was definitely no rat.

Walking away from Viviana Rowan had been one of the harder things Neal had done in a long time, but it was necessary. He didn’t think she’d be the kind of woman who would fold under a little pressure. Better to ease off and rethink his strategy, figure out what she wanted.

Not that he was thinking too clearly right now. The woman had rattled him.

He’d heard the rumors about Drake and Helen and how they’d met. She’d taken away his pain when they touched. Was it possible he’d found another one of their women? A female Theronai?

A bubble of hope swel ed inside him, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t seem to make it stop. He knew that when it burst, he’d suffer, but he couldn’t seem to stop that fragile feeling from gaining momentum.

Neal slid behind the wheel of his truck and dialed Drake. If anyone could help Neal figure al this out, it would be his buddy and fel ow Theronai.

“Hey, Neal,” answered Drake. He was out of breath, but the sun had been down for only a few minutes. It hadn’t been dark long enough for the couple to be out fighting yet. Which left one other reason for al the panting.

“I interrupted you and Helen, didn’t I?”

There was a smug smile in Drake’s tone. “A couple of minutes earlier and you would have.

What do you need?”

“I met this woman tonight. When I touched her, the pain . . .” He didn’t know how to describe it. “It faded. But then it came back so fast and hard I thought I’d lose my mind.”

Drake’s tone was sharp and clear, al business. “When you stopped touching her?”

“Yeah. Sound familiar?”

“Absolutely. Who is she?”

“Her name is Viviana Rowan. She col ects antiques.”

Hope rang pure and clear in Drake’s voice. “Tel me about what you felt.”

Neal didn’t much like talking about his feelings, but for Viviana, he’d make an exception. “It’s like I said. I shook her hand and the pain just . . . fel away. When she pul ed her hand back, I thought I was going to be crushed under the pressure. It happened twice. I wasn’t sure I’d survive a third round.”

“Did your luceria react?”

Neal glanced at his ring. There might have been more movement of color in the iridescent band, but it was hard to tel in the dim confines of his truck. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about it at the time. I was too busy trying not to puke up my guts on her floor.”

“Does she bear the mark of a female Theronai?” asked Drake.

The ring-shaped birthmark. Neal had nearly forgotten about that. No women of their kind had been born for so long, their men had al but stopped looking for the signs. “I don’t know. She was clothed from her neck down, al prim and proper. I didn’t ask about any birthmarks, and if I had, she probably would have kicked me out sooner.”

“You’re not with her?”

“I’m in front of her home. Outside on the street.”

“Where are you? Has the sun set there yet?”

“About five minutes ago.”

“Get the hel back in there and don’t you dare leave her side,” ordered Drake. The note of fear in his voice was contagious.

Neal was already out of his truck when he asked, “Why?”

“Because if she is one of ours and you touched her, you might have destroyed any natural defenses she had. The Synestryn might be able to find her now, especial y if she bleeds.”

The broken glass.

Stark, ragged fear sliced through him as he slammed out of his truck. He ran across the street, cursing at the passing cars in his way. “Thanks, Drake. I won’t leave her again until I know for sure if she’s ours.”

“I’l send Logan to you. He might be able to verify her bloodlines.”

Neal didn’t like the idea of one of those bloodsuckers anywhere near her. Her neck was far too pretty, her blood far too precious. “No. I’l find out myself, even if I have to strip-search her.”

“Helen and I can come. Where are you?”

Neal didn’t answer. If Drake came, he might bring some of the other men—men who might be compatible with Viviana. Neal didn’t want to take that risk. He’d already gotten off on the wrong foot with her. If she was one of their own, the last thing he needed was competition. He’d found her, and as barbaric as it might be, that meant she was his. At least for now.

“I’ve got it covered,” he told Drake. “I’l check in later.”

Neal hung up, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a shadow dart down the al ey beside Viviana’s home. It could have been a large dog looking for scraps in the garbage, but the hair standing up on the back of his neck told him that was wishful thinking.

He didn’t bother knocking on the door, doubting she’d answer. Instead he ran through the al ey to the back of her house and dialed the number he’d cal ed to set up the appointment. He hoped it was her cel phone and not some office line.

It rang once before he heard her frightened voice. “Mr. Etan? Please tel me that’s your dog in my house.”

Relief at the sound of her voice was quickly washed away by the implications of what she’d said. “Dog? What did it look like?”

“Big. Furry. Black claws. Glowing green eyes.”

That was no dog. It was a sgath. A Synestryn demon.

Neal’s limbs iced over. If that thing so much as scratched her, she’d be poisoned, and that was the best-case scenario of what could happen if he didn’t get in there and stop it.

“I’m coming. Where are you?” he demanded.

“Upstairs. Third floor. It’s in the hal . I closed the door, but I don’t know how long that wil keep it out.”

Not long.

Neal reached the back door of her home. It was hanging wide-open. The doorknob lay on the back step, crumpled and torn from its mooring. Paw prints were easily visible in the snow. More than one set.

One sgath had already found her. He didn’t stop to study the tracks to find out how many more were inside. He’d find a way to deal with as many as it took to get her out safe.

He drew his sword. It became visible as it left the sheath mounted to his belt.

He heard a heavy thud from upstairs, fol owed by a frightened shriek coming through the phone.

Neal sprinted for the stairs. “Hang on, sweetheart. I’m coming.”

The heavy wooden door shuddered against another attack by the giant dog.

Viviana yelped and clutched her cel phone in one hand, her candlestick in the other. There were no weapons in here—only a store of books and trinkets so old they’d crumble if she held them too hard.

Mr. Etan had said he was coming, but she had no way of knowing how long that might take. By the way the door was rattling, she guessed it wasn’t going to be fast enough.

She wriggled between the side of a low bookshelf and the corner of the room and shoved hard, hoping to use the shelf as a barricade to keep the door shut. The shelf was laden with books and seriously heavy, but it scooted a couple of inches.

The dog slammed into the door again, only this time one of its claws punctured the wood, shooting shards of splinters into the room.

Viviana clamped her lips shut over a scream of fear and pushed harder. She stil had five feet to cover before the shelf was going to do anything to impede the dog’s progress.

If it was a dog. She was beginning to wonder if it wasn’t something . . . else.

Her books were ful of images of horrible, writhing beasts and monsters so terrifying there was no way they were real. And whatever was outside her door was definitely real.

She pushed that train of thought from her mind. If she survived this, she’d dedicate as many hours to the question as necessary, but for now, she had to focus on staying alive until help arrived.

The shelf moved another few inches, giving her enough room to use her legs to better advantage.

Another loud, hammering blow to the door sent more wood flying into the room. This time, the opening was big enough for an entire paw to reach through, searching blindly for her.

That was most definitely not a dog. Its claws were way too long, its paw too wide, and its arm was at least as long as her own, thick as a man’s leg. Maybe it was a bear or some kind of large, black jungle cat escaped from the zoo.

Whatever it was, it was closer to those terrible images in her books than to anything that belonged on a leash.

The thing let out a vicious snarl, lashing the air with its searching paw. A second later, it yelped in pain and two feet of severed, furry leg dropped through the opening onto her floor. Black blood oozed from the severed end, somehow burning the floor, sending plumes of thick, oily smoke up into the air.

Viviana froze in terror, unable to make sense of what she saw.

The door flew open, batting the furry limb across the floor toward her. She shrieked and jerked away, only to find she was trapped in the corner, unable to move any farther. Her elbow jabbed the wal behind her, sending zings of sensation out to her fingertips.

“Viviana?” came Mr. Etan’s deep, worried voice a second before his head appeared around the doorframe.

She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. Her mouth was too dry, her throat too constricted for any words to pass.

In one hand he held a sword covered in the same oily black fluid that was burning her floor. The other hand—the one with the ring she’d noticed earlier—was held out to her.

He took a step toward her. “We have to go. There are more sgath in your house.”

Viviana looked at his wide hand, then down at the paw of the thing he’d cal ed a sgath. He’d kil ed it. With a sword. How was any of this even possible?

His voice was confident, steady. He showed no signs that anything that had happened seemed odd to him. “Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. I know al of this is a lot to take in, but now is not the time for hesitation. We need to go.”

Go. Before the other sgath in her house found them.

She gave herself a hard mental shake, then reached for his hand. She didn’t know this man, but she knew he’d kil ed to save her. For now, that was going to have to be enough.

Her thin cotton gloves were damp with sweat, but she didn’t dare take them off. She remembered how odd she’d felt when they’d touched before, and she real y couldn’t stand any more bizarre stimuli tonight.

The heat of his skin sank through the glove, and along with it came that odd resonance she’d felt before, only this time it was muted. Even so, it was stil enough to make her suck in a startled breath. A shiver wriggled up her back, al owing some of the too-tight muscles there to loosen.

He gave her a tug. “Come on. We need to hurry.”

She didn’t know where they were going, but for now, she was happy to be leaving behind al this strangeness. Once she was away from here, she’d figure things out and make some sense out of it al . For now, leaving sounded like a fantastic idea.

She stepped over the severed paw, and now that she was able to see through the doorway, she saw the remains of the sgath. It was in four pieces, and each one of them was leaking black blood, sending thin tendrils of smoke up from her floor. The head lay against the banister, its sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling. At least they were no longer glowing.

Mr. Etan helped her step over the biggest part of the carcass. She clutched his arm tight, feeling the dense, thick muscles beneath his leather jacket. She’d never been more thankful for a brute than she was in this moment. He may have been misplaced in time, but none of the men she’d dated would have stood a chance against the thing he’d just kil ed. Maybe al those muscles were for more than just vanity’s sake.

“Thank you,” she whispered, final y finding enough of her voice to speak.

“Sure thing, sweetheart, but we’re not out of the woods yet. Stay close.”

The way he was holding her arm in a death grip, she didn’t think any other option was possible.

From the stairwel somewhere below them came a caustic, angry growl.

Mr. Etan stopped. “It’s caught our scent. Is there any other way out?”

“Fire escape down to the al ey.”

A blur of movement caught her eye, but by the time she’d turned her head to see what it was, Mr. Etan was already in motion. He pushed her behind him, letting out an agonized hiss. It looked like he was fighting the need to double over in pain, but in the end, he stood straight and tal , his blade ready for the sgath that leaped up the stairs, gouging deep grooves into the wood. It didn’t even bother to use the treads—just bounded between one railing and the other, hopping up each flight of stairs in two giant leaps.

It lunged at Mr. Etan, but he stepped aside at the last second, pushing her along with him. It bounced against the wal next to her head, ripping the plaster from the wal with its teeth.

Mr. Etan ducked low and spun so fast his blade was a flashing arc of silver. One of the thing’s legs flew away from its body, streaming oily blood as it went. A drop of it landed on her suit jacket and began to sizzle.

Mr. Etan shoved her back with one big hand, forcing her to stumble away from the sgath. “Get out,” he ordered.

Viviana regained her balance and jerked the jacket off her body before that blood could touch her skin. By the time she had, Mr. Etan had landed another solid blow to the sgath’s side.

It roared in pain and its green eyes flared bright. For a moment she was frozen in place, struck by the oddity that the green color reminded her of al those Mr. Yuck stickers her mother had placed on the chemicals in their home when Viviana was in elementary school.

“Go!” he shouted. “Now.”

She gave herself a hard shake to rid herself of the need to stare at that eerie light and turned to run. She’d made it only two steps toward the fire escape when another one of those sgath creatures lifted its head and peered into the window.

The sgath snorted out a heavy breath, making the glass fog up. Before that misty spot had completely cleared, the monster lunged for her, shattering the window.