‘‘Life, you mean? No, it isn’t, although we do the best we can to compensate for that fact,’’ a male voice answered, causing me to utter a little shriek, shadow, and spin around to face the bathroom from which the voice emerged.

I had a horrible feeling my mouth dropped open a little bit at the sight of the man who stood there. The room was lit by candles on every available surface, casting a lovely warm glow that seemed to caress his body as he leaned against the door frame. He wore a calf-length black silk robe, matching sleeping pants . . . and nothing else but a smile. My eyes flitted from his beautiful eyes to his delectable lips, now curved in a sensual smile, to a bared chest that so fit my idea of male beauty, it left my mouth dry. ‘‘What are you doing here?’’ I finally managed to ask, my voice a hoarse croak.

Gabriel’s dimples deepened as he held up a familiar dusty bottle. ‘‘I brought a little libation.’’

I managed by an intense output of will to drag my eyes off him, adopting what I hoped was a sophisticated expression of nonchalance. ‘‘How is it you can see me when I’m shadowed? The room is dark enough that you shouldn’t be able to see me unless I’m right next to you.’’

‘‘You are my mate,’’ he said, strolling across the room to where a couple of wineglasses sat on a tiny table. ‘‘You cannot remain hidden from my eyes.’’ He lifted his head for a moment as if he was scenting the air. ‘‘Nor from my nose.’’

I let the shadow drop, frowning. ‘‘I apologize if I offend your delicate senses.’’

‘‘On the contrary,’’ he said in that deep, velvet voice that made me shiver, ‘‘your scent is quite intoxicating.’’

Intrigued despite myself, I took a couple of steps into the room. ‘‘Intoxicating how?’’

He poured the dragon’s blood wine into two glasses, offering me one. I shook my head.

‘‘You smell of . . .’’ He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply. ‘‘You smell of the woodlands, but not of the bubbling golden stream as your twin does. You smell as if you were born in the dark, hidden glens, cool and mysterious, but infinitely deep. You smell of smoke and shadows, just like a little glossy-headed bird who flits between the darkness and light. Your essence is an intricate tapestry woven from the scents of the earth itself.’’

He moved toward me slowly as he spoke, his words wrapping themselves around me in a silken cord of sudden need and desire, forbidden to me, but no longer denied.

‘‘You smell like a woman, my woman, and I will be grateful to the end of my time that you have chosen me to be your mate.’’

Who could resist such alluring words? I swayed against him, my body coming to life in a way that I never knew it could. Deep, hidden parts of me that had only been utilized in a most mundane fashion suddenly began to tingle at his nearness. When his breath brushed against me, I didn’t back away, as I knew I should. I lifted my chin to meet his mouth, allowing my lips to caress his, the skin of my arms burning where they touched the bare flesh of his chest.

The sane part of me, the part that knew who I was and what would happen should I forget it, screamed dire warnings, but I seemed to be unable to do anything but focus on the sensations Gabriel brought to life deep within me. ‘‘This isn’t right,’’ I murmured against his mouth.

‘‘It was meant to be,’’ he answered, his hands at his sides as I let more of my body lean against him. I had a feeling he was deliberately holding himself back, allowing me time to get comfortable with him. How he knew I was nervous about my lack of experience with sexual intimacy escaped me, since I had tried to present a mien that, while not worldly, was not one of utter stupefaction where things sexual were concerned.

Nerves be damned, I thought to myself as I let my lips wander along his jawline. Although he had a mustache and goatee, both trimmed short, the rest of his face was clean shaven, leaving a long jawline to nibble along. And nibble I did, enjoying both his scent (deliciously woodsy) and taste (hot and fiery, leaving me wanting more). But headiest still were the soft little groans of pleasure he made, and the way his breath hitched as I bit gently down on his earlobe.

‘‘Mayling, I don’t think I will be able to keep from possessing you if you do that again,’’ he murmured, his chest and arms twitching beneath my questing hands.

My stomach tightened at his use of ‘‘Mayling.’’ Cyrene had called me by the nickname ever since I’d been created, but never had the word stirred such a warm glow of happiness as when Gabriel said it. Perhaps it was as he said—we were meant to be. Who was I to turn my back on fate? Would it be so wrong to give in to temptation just once . . . ?

‘‘Mayling, my sweet one. I have prayed to the gods that one day I would find you. . . .’’

A little chill touched my spine as the air-conditioning found my suddenly bared skin, but it wasn’t that which froze me. Magoth’s image rose in my mind, impossibly handsome, coolly calculating.

‘‘No,’’ I said, almost sobbing as I pushed back from where Gabriel was peeling my clothing off. He’d gotten both the leather bodice and my shirt off without me being aware of it. I snatched up the shirt and hurriedly buttoned it, backing away from him as I did so.

‘‘What is it, sweet May—’’ he started to say.

‘‘Stop,’’ I interrupted. ‘‘Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that. He uses that word. It makes me feel . . . sick.’’

Gabriel watched me for a moment with eyes that seemed to see too much. I turned away, feeling soiled by the association with Magoth. What was I doing giving in to my base urges when I knew the outcome could only end in tragedy?

‘‘Which word is it that upsets you? Sweet?’’

I nodded, telling myself to stop being such a coward and face him. Slowly I turned back around, dreading the expression I knew would greet me.

To my surprise, he wasn’t even looking at me. Instead he frowned at the bottle of wine, wiping off dust with a hand towel from the bathroom. ‘‘Do you object to me calling you by your pet name?’’ he finally asked, glancing up at me with nothing in his face or eyes but interest in the question.

‘‘No, I don’t mind. Cyrene has called me Mayling for as long as I can remember.’’

He nodded. ‘‘Then I will do so as well. Will you sit and have some wine? I will move to the balcony if you do not wish for me to be near you.’’

Oh, gods, how had things come to this? I sagged down onto the edge of the bed and let myself slump into a ball of unhappiness. ‘‘I think we both know that I have no aversion to being near you. I nibbled all over you, if nothing else.’’

‘‘No,’’ he said, sitting beside me, close, but not so close that he touched me. I straightened up and looked at him. He was smiling a bit ruefully. ‘‘You did not nibble all over me, only my face. Which I enjoyed greatly, you understand. But as for all over?’’

He glanced downward. I followed the movement, swallowing hard at the sight of his delicious chest so close to me. He didn’t have a lot of chest hair, whether due to his mixed heritage or just by chance, but what there was looked as soft as silk. An intriguing little trail started below his belly button, leading down into the waistband of the pants, leaving me wanting to follow the trail with both my hands and mouth.

‘‘I have scared you. I apologize for that. I know that this must all seem overwhelming to you, and I will endeavor to move at a pace which will ensure your happiness.’’

My cheeks burned as I realized he had seen me ogling his belly and below. ‘‘Do you mean sex?’’ I asked with bluntness. ‘‘If so, you’re wrong. Oh, it’s true what Cyrene said, not that I am in any way pleased that she felt it necessary to share that fact with everyone. I haven’t had sex with a man before. But I’m not a shy, innocent virgin, either. I’ve seen movies. I’ve read books. I even attended a series of Our Bodies, Ourselves seminars during the 1970s. I’m not a prude or a stranger to sex; I’ve just never engaged in it with another person.’’

‘‘I see.’’ His eyes twinkled at me in a way that made me want to melt into a puddle of goo. He leaned over slightly and nudged me with his shoulder. ‘‘Do you like flavored massage oils? There is a passion fruit oil that I would very much like to try on you.’’

A vision rose in my head of Gabriel doing just that, which made it difficult to swallow. ‘‘The issue I have is not one of sex,’’ I repeated. ‘‘It’s sex with men.’’

‘‘You are not going to try to convince me that you prefer women, are you? Perhaps you enjoy both sexes? I do not share that ability, myself, but I will not condemn you for it. However, I will not share my mate with any other, woman or man . . .’’

‘‘No,’’ I interrupted, inadvertently putting my hand out. It touched his chest. Little flames broke out at the ends of my fingertips where they rested against his flesh.

He looked down. ‘‘You have already gained a control of my fire. That is very good. Aisling could not control Drake’s fire for months. It still gets away from her every now and again. It pleases me greatly that already you are so in tune to me that you can master my fire.’’

I jerked my hand back, jumping up from the bed, pacing to the door and back again before stopping in front of him. ‘‘Please just let me talk. I have something important to explain, and it’s not in any sense of the word going to be easy.’’

‘‘Very well,’’ he said, nodding. He leaned back on the bed, propping himself up on his arms. ‘‘Proceed.’’

I wanted to fling myself on him, rip that robe right off his body and lick every inch of him. I spun around, marching over to the window in order to get a grip on my libido.

‘‘I would be more than happy to acquiesce, not to mention reciprocate, but I doubt if you’d get much explaining done,’’ he said.

‘‘Will you stop reading my mind?’’ I asked, exasperated. ‘‘I didn’t know dragons could do that.’’

‘‘My sept can’t, not normally, but my mother was from Australia.’’

I blinked at him a couple of times, as if that would help me understand.

‘‘She was an Aborigine, her roots firmly in the Dreaming.’’

‘‘I don’t know what . . .’’ I frowned.

‘‘The indigenous peoples of the Australian region believe there are two realities . . . this one, and the Dreaming. Those people who can inhabit both equally often exhibit abilities that mortals consider supernatural.’’

‘‘The ability to read minds is one of them? That must be handy in a wyvern.’’

His lips quirked. ‘‘Thus far, you are the only person other than my parents whose mind I can read.’’

I wasn’t sure I bought that, but it wasn’t something pertinent. ‘‘I don’t want you to use the word ‘sweet’ because the demon lord who is bent on seducing me uses that,’’ I said in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves in my haste to get it all out.

That had him sitting upright. ‘‘A demon lord wishes to seduce you?’’

I nodded.

His eyes narrowed, the silver in them turning glacial. ‘‘Which one?’’

‘‘Magoth. I am bound to him, Gabriel.’’ My stomach balled itself up at the startled look that flitted across his face. ‘‘I am a servant of Magoth. Do you understand now why I can’t be anything to you but a mate in name only?’’

He stood up slowly. ‘‘Why did you bind yourself to him?’’

‘‘I didn’t.’’ I hesitated a moment, not wanting to bare my dirty laundry, but knowing he wouldn’t accept anything but the complete truth. ‘‘Last century Cyrene ran into Magoth. I don’t know where, she never told me, but it really doesn’t matter. He is a very handsome man, and she is prone to falling in love, and . . . well, despite the fact that she was quite happy with a troll from Austria named Hugo, he seduced her.’’

‘‘That is regrettable, but not unknown,’’ he said.

‘‘It wouldn’t be anything but a sign of Cyrene’s weakness for handsome men if Magoth hadn’t decided that she was worth keeping for a bit. He enthralled her. Do you know what that is?’’

He pursed his lips slightly. ‘‘Is it a spell of some sort?’’

‘‘More or less, yes. He placed his thrall on her, and used his will to get her to kill off his competition, her lover, Hugo.’’ I looked down at my hands for a moment. They were balled into fists. I forced myself to relax my fingers. ‘‘Cyrene, in a drunken orgy that I really don’t want to know about, decided that it would be a good idea to have a doppelganger, and since you need to have a demon lord to create one, and she was considering becoming Magoth’s consort, she went ahead and started the ceremony.’’

‘‘It did not go as planned?’’ he asked.

I shook my head. ‘‘Magoth was growing tired of Cyrene. He lifted the thrall and agreed to the creation, on the condition that she bind her doppelganger to him. Since she’d sacrificed her common sense to my creation—why she couldn’t have picked a trait like ticklishness or even irritability is beyond my understanding—but since she sacrificed that, she said yes. Thus I was created, an instant servant of Magoth.’’

‘‘Who uses your ability to shadow walk to his own benefit?’’ Gabriel asked.

I nodded again. ‘‘He seeks to gain a hold on the mortal world, and sends me out to acquire for him those things which might give him power here.’’

‘‘And you thought I wished to use you the same way he does,’’ he said, then checked himself. ‘‘I suppose in your eyes there is little difference. I understand now why you refused to help me.’’

‘‘I never refused to help you,’’ I said wearily, slumping into a chair. ‘‘I just can’t have sex with you. I can’t . . . love you.’’

‘‘Love is not an emotion that is so easily commanded,’’ he said, his fingers wisping across my cheek.

I looked up. His expression was unreadable.

‘‘I would not demand declarations of love from you. I would hope that the emotion would follow, as it does for most mated pairs, but I believe you already feel for me an attraction that would be enough. To start,’’ he added with another brush of his fingers across my cheek.

I resisted the urge to lean into the gesture. ‘‘That point aside, the fact remains that I can’t be the mate that you want. Or deserve. Magoth is bent on seducing me as he did Cyrene, and has even offered me the position of his consort. It is becoming increasingly . . . difficult . . . to resist him,’’ I said carefully, wanting him to know the whole ugly truth. ‘‘He is not someone I would choose to have that sort of a relationship with, but he is very powerful, and I know the day will come when despite my best efforts, he will succeed. And once that happens, it will be child’s play to cast a thrall upon me, and then . . .’’

He looked thoughtful as my words trailed off. ‘‘Then he would order you to kill me.’’

‘‘Yes.’’ I rubbed my fingers. ‘‘I like you, Gabriel. I think you’re probably a very good wyvern, and a good man. I believe that if my situation was other than it is, I would be happy to be your mate—in all meanings of the word. But I will not risk your life for just a few fleeting moments of sexual gratification.’’

His dimples suddenly appeared. ‘‘I assure you, there will be more than just a few fleeting moments.’’

‘‘You know what I mean.’’

‘‘Yes, I do.’’ He suddenly dropped to his knees before me, pulling me from the bed into his arms, my legs straddling one of his silk-clad thighs. ‘‘Mayling, my little bird, so used to carrying the burdens of the world upon your delicate shoulders. Do not speak that reproach I see your lips ready to form.’’ His head dipped and he kissed me quickly, his fire roaring through me for a moment before it withdrew. ‘‘I am wyvern of the silver dragons. I am not so easy to kill.’’

‘‘But—’’

‘‘Do not worry about it, Mayling. You are my mate. I will not give you up to anyone, not even a demon lord.’’

‘‘I’m bound to him,’’ I said, wishing I could just give in to what he offered me. ‘‘It’s not so simple as me having a choice, don’t you understand? He is repugnant, evil personified, the being I most dread on the planet, and yet more than once I have found myself slipping under his seductive spell. To say you won’t give me up is neither here nor there. . . . I’ll give myself up in the end.’’

‘‘You have resisted his attempts upon you for a hundred years,’’ he said, his eyes bright with emotion. ‘‘I will teach you ways to continue to do so.’’

A faint surge of hope blossomed within me. ‘‘You know a way to avoid his spells?’’

‘‘Well . . . not as such. But there are others who do, and we will find them. Do not worry about this, little bird. You are mine, and I do not give up what I hold.’’

I looked deep into his eyes, and for a moment, I believed him. His belief in himself was unshakable, as was his interest in me. But there was something else, something that was even more intriguing, a brief glimpse of a gentler emotion that found an answering chord within me. ‘‘Even if we do find someone who can teach me, we’ve only known each other . . . well, for a few hours. And much as I enjoy kissing you, and touching you—’’

‘‘And wishing to feel me slide into your body, possessing you as only I can—’’ he said, echoing my thoughts.

I clapped a hand over his mouth, glaring as his dimples emerged.

‘‘Even if all that were true, and I’ll thank you very kindly to stop reading my smutty thoughts about you, even so, I am not the sort of a person who is comfortable with the idea of physical intimacy the very day we met. Just because I haven’t slept with a man before doesn’t mean I’m the sort of girl who jumps into bed at the first seductive and incredibly arousing smile a man gives her.’’

To my surprise, the aforementioned smile faded. ‘‘You are a wyvern’s mate.’’

‘‘Yes, I know—’’ I started to say, but he stopped me.

‘‘More to the point, you are my mate, but to ensure that you are not, for lack of a better word, poached by another, I must claim you. Physically. After which, you will accept me and the sept, and only then will you be safe from everything but lusus naturae.’’

‘‘What do you mean, poached?’’ I asked. ‘‘Lusus what?’’

He took a deep breath. I was momentarily distracted by the feeling of his leg pressed so intimately between mine, but managed to wrestle my mind away from that to what he was saying.

‘‘Wyvern’s mates are rare. They are born—or in your case, created—to be the mate of a wyvern.’’

‘‘And?’’ I asked, waiting for the penny to drop.

‘‘Any wyvern,’’ he said.

The penny hit the floor with the impact of an atomic bomb. ‘‘You mean I’m not your mate . . . I’m any wyvern’s mate?’’

‘‘Any wyvern who does not yet possess a mate, yes. There are four wyverns in the weyr . . . two of them are mated, two are not, although we’re not quite certain about whether or not one of the wyverns is still alive.’’

‘‘So there’s another wyvern out there who could zoom along and . . . what? Grab me for his own mate?’’

Gabriel looked vaguely uncomfortable.

‘‘What? The other wyvern isn’t a man?’’

‘‘No, he is, it’s just . . . it’s a long story, one which I really don’t wish to go into right now, but the blue wyvern was challenged and overthrown by another wyvern, the true wyvern, so now you could say there are two blue wyverns.’’

‘‘You dragons are very strange,’’ I said, apropos of nothing.

‘‘And then there’s Kostya,’’ he said, his gaze a thousand miles away.

‘‘That’s the guy you want me to rob?’’

‘‘Yes. He claims to be the wyvern of the black dragons, but as such, they do not exist.’’

‘‘Great. So there are now three other possible guys on the snatch-and-grab list?’’ I asked.

He hesitated. ‘‘Possibly four, if Chuan Ren is not confined to Abaddon after Aisling threw her there.’’

‘‘Pregnant Aisling tossed a wyvern into Hell?’’ I asked, astounded.

‘‘She is a Guardian,’’ he said with a slight smile, his gaze returning to the here and now. ‘‘A very powerful one.’’

‘‘I guess so. But none of that explains why any of those possibly four other wyverns would want to pick me to be their mate. I mean, you and I . . . well, we kind of hit it off.’’

His arms tightened around me, pulling me flush against his upper body. ‘‘You are mine, Mayling. No other wyvern will have you. But until you are properly claimed and accept me as your mate, you are vulnerable. We must mate tonight. You must accept me as your wyvern, and the silver dragons as your sept, or I will be forced to spend all my time keeping you from other wyverns rather than helping you escape your bondage to Magoth.’’

Tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I seldom cried, unlike Cyrene, who wept at the drop of a hat, but the thought that Gabriel would go to the immense trouble of trying to free me from Magoth touched my heart in a way I did not know was possible. ‘‘You’d do that for me?’’ I asked in a breathy voice.

His eyes promised so much. ‘‘I will move the heavens and earth if you so desire.’’

The romantic moment was almost too much to bear, but I would not be Cyrene’s twin if I did not bring forth all the common-sense arguments against an instant relationship. ‘‘Can’t I accept you and your sept without us having sex?’’

A slow smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. ‘‘Yes. But it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.’’