"He kept a woman here?"

"Not a woman, exactly. A female . . . something . . ."

Taking a breath, Kate released it slowly in an attempt to remain calm. She and Nicholas had entered the castle gates fifteen minutes ago-courtesy of his matching blood-and while Nicky had followed his nose to the dungeons, Kate had remained in the foyer, interrogating the guards. Though surprised and wary of them at first, the guards inside Erion's home became willing to talk after they'd heard about Ladd's abduction. But they still carried the fear of their master's punishment, and, it seemed, the female who was with him.

"What do you mean?" Kate asked the guard. The blond Impure had been the most helpful of the four who stood sentry in the dim foyer. "A female something?"

"She wasn't like you or Master Erion."

"Was she a vampire? An Impure? A mutore?"

The guard shook his head. "She was his prisoner. That is all I know."

Prisoner? What the hell was Erion doing? And why hadn't he let his family know about his plans? Kate knew the mutore's actions had to be related to getting Ladd back . . . but how?

A scent glided into Kate's nostrils, and she turned her attention back to the guard. "Why are you so afraid of this female?" she asked. "Did she hurt you? Did she threaten you? Did she hurt your master-"

"She ate one of the guards," the male blurted out.

There was a soft curse behind her, and the sound of shifting feet on the stone floor. But Kate didn't look away from the male in front of her. She truly hoped he wasn't serious, that whatever he believed or thought he'd seen was a mistake.

"She drained one of them?" Kate prompted. "Killed them? Is that what you mean?"

The male's gaze dropped. "No, that's not what I mean."

Kate's patience was wearing thin. "I don't understand. I need you to be clear. This whole thing is beyond strange. I just want to find the balas, and if Erion and this female know anything-"

"They went after the boy."

Kate whirled around. The dark-skinned guard who had been silent as he'd stood sentry beside the front door and who hadn't once glanced at her in all the time she'd been there stared at her intently. His eyes were nearly as dark as his skin, and when he opened his mouth she saw the tips of his snow-white fangs.

"The female Master Erion brought into this house devoured one of our own," he said in a cool, even tone. "She caused the master to kill another whom she believed desired her." He sneered. "She cast her thick scent of arousal into the air to make us all go mad. Finally, the master could take no more and released her."

"Where did she go?" Kate asked him slowly, trying to process his words. This was about Ladd. Had the strange female gone after the balas? Did she know where Cruen's compound was? Is that why Erion took her prisoner?

The male lifted his pointed chin. "Master Erion took her. He didn't tell us where, didn't tell us anything. But he has had several meetings with the one who owns the ancient furnishings shop in town. Perhaps he can help you further."

Nicholas walked into the foyer then, his gaze instantly finding and locking with Kate's. She lifted a brow at him.

"Did you hear?" she asked.

He nodded, his eyes grave. "You will fill me in on the details as we travel to Raine's store."

The risk was a great one, and yet she couldn't stop herself. Not after her moment with the boy.

Hellen moved through the tunnels of her father's compound with the ease of one who had run through them or hidden within them every day of her life. This time, however, she was not alone. She followed Eberny. The six-foot-tall male/female hybrid glided along the floor, white robes kissing the stone, gaze watchful, blade in hand. After seeing Ladd, after the connection he'd seem to have with her, Hellen had felt an irrepressible urge to find Erion. She knew he would be worried about the boy, and though the demon male's feelings shouldn't matter to her, when it came to the subject of his child, they did.

"I will keep the guards away for as long as I am able, but if you are caught . . ." Eberny said, rounding a curve in the tunnel and moving down a gentle slope.

"I know," Hellen said, quickening her pace. "I forced you."

"Yes," Eberny agreed. "But how?"

Hellen searched her mind. It was an important question, one that needed just the right answer to be believable. "I threatened to cut out your tongue and eat it?" she offered.

"Yes. Good. He would be furious if I couldn't speak."

"Yes. How would he manage to order his family around if you weren't available to do it for him?" Hellen uttered dryly.

"Do not speak ill of your father, Hellen," Eberny warned.

"Why not?"

They were very deep within the bowels of the compound now, and Eberny slowed and turned to face Hellen. In the light of the lamp Hellen carried, the hybrid's face was pulled into a mask of condescension.

"He is cruel, unfeeling, vile, and hideous."

"Yes," Hellen agreed.

A soft smile broke on Eberny's face. "He is the Devil. How do you expect him to act?"

As a parent. Maybe just once in a while, she thought, knowing she was reacting like a child. She was a grown demon female now who had made her own decisions based on the choices she had been given. This was the life she'd been dealt. Her gaze shifted to the door a few feet away. But it wasn't the life Erion and Ladd belonged in.

Eberny followed her gaze. "Yes. He is there. But before I open the door, you must give me some evidence to use if your father returns."

Hellen accepted the blade that was shoved into her hand. "Where?"

"My mouth, I believe," said Eberny calmly.

Yes, Hellen mused as she lifted the blade and aimed the tip at her governess's lower lip. A clear message. Take me to the demon male prisoner, or I won't stop at your mouth. And Abbadon would believe it. He knew her to be headstrong, impetuous, and, if she ever decided to act on the vile and hidden inheritance her firstborn status had placed within her, capable of being more ruthless than him.

With deft skill, she made a quick and shallow cut in the center on Eberny's lower lip.

"How's that?" she asked, stepping back, watching the blood rise to the surface.

"Stings, thank you."

Hellen laughed softly as she handed back the blade. "I'm sorry."

"No matter." The hybrid turned and moved swiftly toward the door. In a series of strange hand gestures punctuated with softly uttered incantations, the door made a clicking sound and drew open a few inches.

Before Hellen could get past Eberny, the hybrid laid a hand on her shoulder. Eberny's brown eyes were heavy with magic and with something else Hellen rarely saw in the typically logical, rational demon.

Concern.

"Tell me something," Eberny said softly. "This male is worth your defiance?"

Poised on the tip of Hellen's tongue was the excuse she'd given Eberny earlier when requesting the hybrid's help, and the excuse she'd given herself. She was here to give Erion peace of mind about Ladd, let him know the boy was unharmed and being cared for by her sisters. That was it. That was all. There was nothing more, nothing between them that had caused her to take such a risk. No. She wasn't here to see his face again, scent him. No. She wasn't here to take that scent into her lungs, hear his voice, touch his skin.

That is what she told herself, what she wanted to believe.

Was Erion worth her defiance?

"I don't know," she said. The unsatisfactory and deficient answer made her feel silly, young-but weren't all young, silly demon females risky and foolish when it came to romantic decisions? She was just playing to her demographic. "I need to find out, Eberny."

The hybrid nodded solemnly. "Your father is aboveground. It is not much time to find out anything. But . . ." Eberny's eyes warmed. "You will cut out my tongue if I do not let you pass. Yes?"

Hellen nodded, laughing softly. "You can count on it."

Turning, Eberny grasped the door and opened it wide, allowing Hellen to enter. "You have until the fireflower blooms."

"Got it."

She knew that time of day. It was when everything slowed, the rain ceased in the Fields, the color of their sky lightened to an uncomfortable yellowish hue, and fireflower, whose petals remained locked up tight, suddenly opened and denied the Underworld its luscious scent.

"Demon girl."

Hellen froze just inches past the door. She heard Eberny's retreating footsteps behind her, but what truly stole her breath was the voice that called to her, the low, rough timbre that wrapped around her as she looked about the room.

The room.

Confusion gripped her. How was this possible? What had her father done? And how . . . ?

Hellen turned, rotating slowly like an animal on a spit until she was dizzy from the shock of what was before her and the questions that pinged inside her mind. Stone walls, circular room, three doors, a window . . . Her mouth felt dry, but she swallowed out of reflex. Her father had re-created the very room where she'd been held. Except now . . . Her eyes focused on the male affixed to the wall. He was tall, broad shouldered, and dangerously beautiful, his black hair licking the edges of his hard jawline. It was Erion-Erion, who had his wrists and ankles shackled, who strained against the metal, his gaze feral with rage.

"Look familiar?" he said in a voice that made her insides quiver with fear.

He was more than angry. He sounded betrayed.

She stepped toward him. She didn't give in to fear. "My father did this."

He nodded. "With a little help."

"My father needs no help to torture others." What had Abbadon done to find out this information? Had he gone to Erion's home? Interrogated his guards? Consumed one or more of them whole until they told him everything they knew and had witnessed?

The fireflower doesn't fall far from the fiery ash it grows from, does it? she mused, ashamed.

"The balas?" he said, tightly, darkly. "Have you come to tell me about him?"

Her gaze lifted. It had been hovering somewhere between the many waves of muscle on Erion's abdominals and his rock-hard chest. The query he'd just tossed her way still hung in the air unanswered, but the weight of it, the emotional pain of it, filled the room. Ladd is a lucky child, she thought. It was obvious that Erion loved him, worried for him, would even kill for him. His diamond gaze fairly bled with the desire to nurture and the pain of separation. It was something she'd never seen in the eyes of her own father.

"He is well," she said, coming to stand within a few inches of him.

Erion's eyes shuttered, and he tensed against his bindings. "You have seen him? You know this firsthand?"

She nodded. I have seen him, she thought, and he has definitely seen me.

"If they hurt him . . ." Erion's fangs descended.

"They won't," Hellen assured him. "I will make certain of it."

"You will protect my son?" he said in a mocking tone.

Her brows slammed together. "Of course."

"Why?

"What do you mean?" she returned hotly. She didn't like this, didn't like how he was looking at her.

He laughed bitterly. "Do you really pretend to care what happens to anyone but yourself?"

She stared back at him, her mouth agape. What a horrific accusation, and unfounded as hell. He had no idea how much she cared about his son, about her sisters, about their futures and their happiness. He had no idea the sacrifices she'd made, and not because she felt obligated or guilty, but because it was the right thing.

"After all, demon girl," he continued, watching her intently, "you are the one who took down my guard in one bite."

Hellen's lip curled as she stepped toward him. "Listen to me, because I won't defend myself on this point again, or any of these jabs you're lobbing at me. You, who took me against my will, kept me prisoner. Whatever I've done to protect myself, keep myself alive-I've never hurt your boy. In fact, I'm here right now, risking . . ." She stopped herself, shook her head. "I'm here because of the boy. I only wanted his father to know he was all right."

Erion's lips tightened and he seemed to soften a fraction. "Speaking of fathers. Yours paid me a visit earlier."

She had no doubt. A flash of embarrassment went through her. This male who cared so deeply for his child now knew the truth, knew where and what she had come from.

"Charming, isn't he?" she said.

He sniffed. "He makes an impression."

Regardless of what Erion thought of her, of her father, she'd come here to ease his mind. "He will let the boy go."

"You truly believe he has a grain of decency in him?"

It was a question she couldn't answer. She didn't know what mercy Abbadon possessed or didn't, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know. They were blood, and she, out of her sisters, was the most similar to him, his heir apparent. If he was pure evil, what did that make her?

"If he does not let Ladd go," Erion said in a chilling voice. "If he hurts the balas in any way, he will be destroyed and I will be ruined." He looked away, growled. "I hate not seeing the boy for myself. I hate that he cannot see me, a face he recognizes."

Hellen held her tongue. She wasn't certain what had occurred between her and Ladd earlier, if he'd recognized something in her, but this wasn't the time to discuss it. Right now, if they hurried, she might be able to make Erion's hope a reality.

Maybe even prove to him-and herself-that she wasn't her father's daughter.

She turned, wondering if the room Abbadon had created was truly the mirror image of Erion's dungeon. A bitter laugh escaped her as she caught sight of the treasure she sought. Daddy thought of everything, she mused, walking over to where the keys hung temptingly from the very same hook.

"This is truly deja vu," she said, heading back to Erion and dropping to her haunches at his feet.

"What are you doing?" he demanded just as the familiar click echoed through the fake dungeon's air when the key turned the lock.

She stood, went for one wrist with her ready key. "Freeing you."

"Why?"

With the click of the last lock, she flung the keys at the wall and held out her hand to him.

He just stared at it, his thickly muscled arms slowly lowering to his sides.

"Come with me," she said.

His nostrils flared and he looked as though he'd like to do anything but take her hand. Not because she repelled him, but because she knew he didn't trust her.

"Dammit, Erion," she said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. "I'm trying to do something nice here. I could get in trouble. I could get myself killed, and you too, for that matter."

He grunted and kept his hand in hers, but moved past her. "You, demon girl, are the very definition of trouble."

"And if I wasn't, you'd still be chained to that wall."

"Good point." He flicked his chin toward the door. "What's out there, waiting? Because I know it isn't freedom."

"No. It's not freedom. But it's Ladd."

He growled at her. "It had better be." Then he turned and walked out of the Devil's version of his dungeon.

"I want him out now!"

His breath coming fast, Erion leaned on the glass and pounded his fists like an animal, a madman.

"Stop it, Erion." Hellen sounded panicked as she looked behind her at the two closed doors that led into hallways and tunnels in her father's labyrinth. "It won't break. You can't get to him."

Fuck that! Ladd was inside, on a bed, asleep. Shit. He had better be asleep, Erion thought with a snarl. If they'd drugged him, hurt him-

"He is sleeping," Hellen hissed, as though she'd heard his thoughts. "My sisters read to him, sang to him until he drifted off."

But Erion couldn't be reached. He was way too pissed, too predatory. He kept on slamming his fists into the glass. His mind had shut down and all that was left were his instincts, which screamed louder than the demon girl. They screamed for him to get to his blood, his child.

"Please, Erion," she begged. "Stop." She grabbed his wrist, held him firmly. "You're going to bring my father's henchmen."

He whirled on her, roared. "Let them come! I will slit the throat of each one in turn."

She didn't back down. Instead her grip on him tightened almost painfully. "And you will get your son killed in the process."

He stared at her, his nostrils flaring.

"You don't want that," she said, her gaze grave. "Right?"

The anger inside him slowly began to flow out, while fear oozed into his veins.

"He's fine," she continued. "As long as he remains in there. My sisters adore him. They dote on him. Nothing will happen to him." He tried to look away, back at the boy, but Hellen grabbed his face and turned him to look at her again. "The magic surrounding this room is impenetrable, Erion-even to me. If someone other than my sisters enters the room, if the boy crosses the threshold-" She hesitated.

"What?" he demanded harshly, grabbing the hand that held his face and crushing it against his palm. "What happens?"

"He's dead."

The reality of what she was saying felt impossible, and Erion wanted to fight against it. But the strain of logic that still worked inside his brain warned him that if he did, he would be risking Ladd's life by attempting to free him. He could not do that-would not do that. Instead he must force himself to cool down, play this game out, follow the Devil's rules as much as he despised them and take what he could get. If he were alone, if he were fighting his own battle for life and freedom, he would be taking a different, far riskier tack. But he would never risk Ladd.

The hand that he was gripping so tightly rotated in his grasp. He tried to release it. But she held fast to him. His gaze shifted back to hers.

"He is well," she said, her face tired, anxious. "He will be ready for you to take him home when the time comes. Just focus on that."

Erion glanced to the right, through the glass to the same figure sleeping on the bed. His growl gentled almost to a purr.

Hellen squeezed his hand. "You don't want him to see you like this. You don't want him to see your fear."

Damn woman. "No," he uttered bitterly.

"Come away, then. Come with me."

"I don't think I like following your lead, Hellen." He said the words and meant them, and yet he left the room with her.

They had come this far through a secret passage that Hellen had admitted to knowing as a child. A place she'd used to hide from her father when he was displeased with her. Erion wondered if that happened more often than not. He didn't like the twist of sympathy he felt for her in that moment and shoved it away.

"Perhaps this was a bad idea. I was trying to help you," she was saying as they ducked their heads and entered a low portion of the tunnel. "Ease your mind. You were so worried."

"Are you looking for a thank-you, Hellen?" he spit out.

"No, of course. But maybe an understanding or, I don't know, a momentary belief that I'm not out to hurt anyone, screw anyone." She made a frustrated sound. "I wanted you to see Ladd, see that he was all right."

As much as he wanted to soften at her words, at her impassioned tone, all he could think about was Ladd, caged and scared and without him.

"Is that what you call all right, Hellen?" he asked. "He is held, jailed like a convict. He is just a balas."

"I know. I hate it-hate the monster who . . ."

She broke from her thought, but Erion would not let her get off so easily. "Your lover is that kind of monster."

Hellen whirled on him, her eyes flashing. "Don't call him my lover!"

"Why not?" Erion asked. "Christ! I am to witness that fact firsthand."

"You will not see us wed, Erion. It will be a private ceremony-"

"Private?" he repeated, then broke into bitter laughter. "Not only am I to witness your mating ceremony, demon girl, but I am to watch your lovemaking as well."

"What?" Her face went ashen. "You lie."

"Don't pretend you don't know this," he warned.

She started to back away, her eyes widening with horror. "You lie!"

"I wish I were lying."

Her shoulders hit the stone wall, and she reached back with her palms to steady herself. She looked terrified, and she couldn't seem to stop shaking her head. "I helped you. I risked . . . just to show you that your son was all right, and you say something like this to me."

Erion cooled his verbal attack. His gaze moved over her, his nostrils flared with the scent of fear. There was nothing about her in that moment that even whispered at a deception.

He studied her. Yes, she'd taken a grave risk to show him Ladd and ease his mind. Why? Did she really care? Did she actually have feelings for him that weren't manipulative or false? He fought the strange new layer of hope that moved him and the desire to comfort that went with it as he watched her face crumble with shock and fear.

Her eyes implored him. "Why would you do that? Say something like that? It's disgusting."

"It's true, Hellen. Your father-"

"No." Her voice was hard now, determined. "Even my father in the most vile and cruel and contemptible state of mind wouldn't-"

"Stop, Hellen!" Erion stalked toward her, his shoulders curled, his lip too. "Christ. He is that vile. He is that cruel. Not just to his beautiful daughter, but to me. I am to sit there and watch while that piece of shit mates with you for life, then mounts you, takes you like . . ." He snarled. "Fuck!"

Hellen's eyes suddenly lost their fight, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Truly, Erion? And please don't lie to me. My father told you this was his plan?"

Erion didn't know what else to do but nod. "It is to be my punishment for stealing you." Her whimper, her utterly destroyed expression, had him growling with anger. He took her shoulders and squeezed. "And for tasting you."

"What?" She shook her head. "No. He wouldn't know that. He couldn't . . ."

"You told him."

"Never!"

Damned if he didn't want to believe her. "Then how?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know. But it wasn't me, I swear."

Erion couldn't help himself. He leaned in, pressed his forehead against hers. "Oh, demon girl, I tasted you, the forbidden fruit I couldn't deny myself, and now I will pay with having to watch the one I despise most in the world take the female I . . ." He clamped his mouth closed on the words.

"The female you what?" she asked, her breath fanning his face.

He closed his eyes, so amped up on anger and desire and hate and lust he could barely hold himself back from howling.

"Dammit, Erion," she cried, pressing his face back so she could look him in the eyes again. "The female you what? Say it!" She bit her lip. "Please."

With a ferocious growl, he shoved his thigh between her legs. "The female I want."

"Oh, gods," she whispered. "Oh, Erion . . ."

He lowered his head like he was going to kiss her, then pulled back with a frustrated snarl. "I took you. I stole you away. You belong to me." He ground his hips against her belly. "Do you feel that, Hellen?"

"Yes," she hissed, her chin tipped, her breathing labored. She licked her lips.

"That is the only cock you will ever want, ever need. Mine!"

And to drive his point home, he crashed his mouth against hers and thrust his tongue between her lips in a violent display of unbridled possession.