I heard a cabinet door creak open and Ryker grumble.

"Do they have any honey?" Sprig's voice carried. Ryker mumbled something again. "Jeez, Viking. All I asked for was honey." It probably irritated Ryker that Sprig picked up on my pet name for him.

I took in a breath, held my shoulders and head high, and walked out. Nothing happened. And it was exactly how I willed myself to act.

When I entered the living area, Ryker leaned against the cupboard, already starting on another bottle of bourbon. Sprig had climbed inside the cabinet, tossing stuff on the carpet. "Yuck. Ick. Blah." One by one, more bottles fell to the floor. "Don't they have anything with honey? Is it too much to ask?"

My feet took me to the kitchen, and I rummaged for a few minutes before I found what I was looking for. "Sprig?" I held up the plastic honey-filled teddy bear.

He chattered with excitement, racing to me. He jumped on the counter and tugged it out of my fingers.

"Take it easy. Don't drink yourself into a sugar coma." I knew my warning was worthless as I watched him suck the thick syrup. "You fae and your sweet tooth." I shook my head, strolling into the living room. I stopped as Ryker took another swig of alcohol, his eyes on me.

Ignoring the race in my pulse, I walked to the shirtless man, taking the bottle from him. His side puckered from where I had sewn him up, looking red and angry. The owner's face watched my every move. I took a gulp and handed it back. Our eyes never left the other. He studied, explored me. It was too much, too intense.

"Maybe Grandpa has a shirt you might fit into." My legs were already moving in the direction of the bedrooms. Any reason to get away from him worked for me. I wasn't thinking clearly, the liquor mucking up my rational thoughts. Whatever moment we had in the bathroom was caused by the whiskey. Between the liquor and the day we had, my emotions were all over the map, unsure and nervous, looking in all the wrong places for comfort.

First priority. Getting the well-built man dressed.

The farther I stepped away from the heat of his body, the better I could breathe. It was growing dark, the clouds obscuring the corners. I searched the back bedroom, finally finding a closet with a few things appearing to belong to a son or older grandson. I took the shirt and headed for the front room. The smell of burning lumber and paper curled into my senses. Ryker poked at the flames growing in the fireplace. The warm glow washed across his features, glittering off his eyes.

"Here." I tossed him the white T-shirt. "It's all I could find that might fit you."

He took it and stood. My gaze watched his torso coil and shift as he pulled the shirt on. It curved over every muscle like a second skin. It was tight, but it fit well enough. I shifted my head and went to the kitchen. Sprig pa.s.sed out on his back, drooling. Honey trickled from the side of his mouth. "What'd I tell you?" I sighed and opened a cupboard, examining whatever food they left behind. "Pringles!" I fumbled with the lid, trying to remove it. The sour cream and onion chip lay on my tongue, and my lashes fell. "G.o.d. So good."

I felt heat, his body behind mine. His hand came over my shoulder and grabbed the container. He took a handful, stuffing them into his mouth.

"They're good, huh?" I mumbled through bites, rounding to face him.

"I've had them before, you know."

"Well, I don't know what you fae eat."

"I've been around for a while, mostly on Earth. I've had things you've probably never tried."

"You'll eat anything. Except if they touch. Got it," I jabbed.

He ignored me and jammed another chip into his mouth.

"How long have you been around?"

"A long time."

I rolled my head back. "You won't even tell me how old you are?"

"It was before your great-great-great-grandparents were even a twinkle in their parents' eyes." He tossed another chip into his mouth. "I think we have more important things to discuss than my age. What did you find out from Senior?"

The Pringle canister stayed firmly in my hands while I grabbed a bag of generic corn chips from the cupboard and walked past Ryker, snagging the bourbon from his grasp. I traveled to the sofa and jumped on the cushions, snuggling into the corner. I took a long swallow from the bottle. My eyes watered at the harsh liquid. Ryker followed me, sitting on the loveseat diagonally from me. He slid off the settee onto the carpet and leaned back. I set the bottle on the coffee table and pushed it to him. I also threw the corn chips on the table but kept the Pringles. Sharing was one thing, but there was no reason to get all crazy.

I placed another salty piece of heaven in my mouth before I started talking. I revealed everything Daniel Senior had told me, as scattered and unreliable as it was. "He said he knew me and had named me." I folded my legs, tucking them underneath me. "I don't know. He spouted about DNA and if he only had known what DMG was up to." With every minute away from the old man, his words seemed more and more like talk of a crazy man.

"This guy is in a special home. You're really going to believe what he says?"

I shrugged. "He sounded so sure. I don't know what to believe anymore. Daniel sent me to his father for a reason... and he recognized me. He knew me. It was strange." I dug into my pocket. "And he gave me this key. He seemed really agitated, as if he didn't want anyone to see him give it to me. I think Daniel gave it to him to hold." I showed him the tiny metal object. Ryker swiped it from me, examining it closer. "I have to find what it goes to. I feel in my gut the answers I need might be connected to this key."

"There are numbers on it." Ryker rubbed his thumb across the metal.

"Numbers?"

"I know what they mean."

"What?"

"They are bank numbers. Every bank has its own. Like a code. If this key is lost, it will be returned to the right bank."

"How do you know this?"

Ryker handed it back to me. "You learn things when you steal from enough of them."

I took another drink. "You were a bank thief?" It was more in surprise than judgment.

"Typically, it was to steal from a particular vault, something my client wanted, an object of some sort. Not usually money."

"Like the stone?"

He nodded in response. "We need to find which bank these numbers coincide with. I know of a few people who might know."

"Really?" I regarded the figure before me. He was going to help me again?

Ryker pressed into the sofa and stretched, his arm propped on his knee, the bottle hanging from his fingers. "When we return to the city, I'll try to contact them."

The fire warmed the room. Between the heat of the flames and the alcohol, I felt myself slump heavier into the cushions. I finished the chips and lay on my stomach, elongating myself over the sofa. I tucked the pillow under my head, staring at the dancing flames. "A month ago did you ever think you'd be in cahoots with a human and a narcoleptic monkey-sprite, and you'd be running from dark fae and human scientists through a demolished city?" I couldn't stop the giggle at the ridiculousness of it all.

Ryker twisted his head to peer at me. The liquor was causing his lids to go half-mast. "No. Nor did I believe a fae storm could transfer my powers to another. Or my girl would be kidnapped out from under me." He bowed his head. He never let on, but after the night on the roof, I could see how guilty he felt for letting Amara be taken. There wasn't much he could do, but logic didn't curb you from feeling responsible.

I shifted my head on the pillow. "I never thought I'd lose the man I loved and my sister in a matter of hours." Staring at the fire kept me from making eye contact from Ryker. "I was supposed to go to South America with him, open a place for foster and abused kids. A place they could feel safe. Lexie would help me, especially ones who were disabled or had special needs." My mind filled with the fantasy I had developed during the years, so detailed it felt real. "On nights off, Daniel and I would head to a bar, play pool, and get drunk on cold beer. Have amazing s.e.x."

Ryker was quiet before he asked, "Your sister was disabled?"

"Yes. Her mother was a junkie and didn't stop even though she got pregnant. Lexie would have been sequestered to a wheelchair for the rest of her life," I replied. "She was a huge reason I wanted to join DMG. If there was any way I could help her, take her pain away, I would do it. If it meant testing on fae so my sister could walk again... I didn't even think twice about it."

"And now?" Ryker's stare dug into me. It was not angry or accusing. He seemed generally interested in my response.

"There isn't much I won't do for the people I love, but things are different now. My eyes have been opened."

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he looked at the floor. "Maybe someday you will go to South America, get drunk, and take some hombre back to your place." He took another drink of bourbon, the liquid swishing in the bottle. The light from the fire turned it a deep molten gold. "Open your facility."

"Yeah." No matter if I went, my dream, my plan was forever altered. It would not be the same. The man I took there to have wild, hot s.e.x with was supposed to be Daniel. The dream was now lost, and it broke my heart to dwell on it. I tucked tighter into the pillow, my lids growing heavier. "Right now, tomorrow is all I can focus on."

"We'll head back to the city in the morning, and I'll the track the guys who might know something about your key."

I didn't respond right away, letting the silence build between us. The crackle of the fire and Sprig's snores occupied the room. Finally, I took a deep breath. "Thank you for going with me today... for everything."

His gaze darted to mine. He watched me, the tension jamming in the s.p.a.ce between us. "Go to sleep, Zoey."

It was like my body had been waiting for permission. At his request, my lids dropped closed. The warmth of the fire pulled me under.

"Zoey!" My name rang out. I stood in DMG's training room. The black fighting mat stretched before me. My hair was tied in a ponytail, but instead of wearing training gear, I wore jeans and a top with blood drops sprinkled across the top. "Zoey."

I twisted around to see where my name came from. A man stood across the room, his back to me. "Daniel?" The man didn't respond to my call. "Daniel!" I ran toward the figure I knew better than my own. He turned enough his profile came into full view.

"You disappointed me, Zoey." His pupils shone with disgust and ire. His muscles strained along the ridge of his shoulders.

My legs stopped short. "What?"

"You let me die." His lips. .h.i.tched up. "Your hands are covered in my blood."

I glanced down, bringing my hands up. Thick red liquid coated them, dripping in globs. Horror constricted my throat. "I-I..."

"You let a fae kill me. How could you do that?"

"Daniel, I tried to stop-"

"Don't lie to me. You stood there and did nothing," he snapped.

He was right. It all happened so fast. I did stand there and let it happen. Could I have stopped it? I could have at least tried.

"I am so sorry." I held my arms against my chest. The blood did not leave my hands. It only stayed on them, like they were gloves. "I would have done anything to save you."

"But you didn't." He rounded, facing me fully.

Words caught on my tongue.

"And you claimed to love me."

"I do! I love you so much."

He scoffed. "I never loved you. How could I ever love someone like you? You are trash and will never be anything more." He regarded me with revulsion.

I choked back a sob.

"You've only proved my point by falling in with a fae. I wasted my time on you."

"Daniel... please." My chest ached by the overwhelming pain his words caused, weighing me down. "I'm sorry."

"Save your apologies for her."

"Who?" He pointed over my shoulder. I swung around to see my sister sitting on her bed. We were in the bedroom we shared. The blood was gone from my hands and clothes, replaced by fallen ash and black charcoal smears on my fingers.

"Lexie?" I took a few steps toward her. She sat on her bed, her face contorted in pure hate. "Lexie, what's wrong?"

Her lip twisted up, scrunching her nose. "You let me burn."

Blades ripped at my heart, a lump of shame curling in my stomach. I stood by our shared dresser, a picture of the two of us sat on top. The gla.s.s crackled and popped and burst into flames.

"You let me burn," Lexie growled again.

I turned away from the picture and back to her. "I am so sorry. I tried to get to you. I did..." My feet moved to her but only got halfway before they stuck to the floor, unable to move. I tried to raise my feet, but my muscles wouldn't listen. Panic and fear crawled along my spine.

Her eyes flashed. "You. Let. Me. Burn!" In a flash, flames engulfed her, searing away her flesh. Shrieks of agony broke out in a chorus. They surrounded me, pounding till I was on my knees.

TWENTY-ONE.

"Zoey, wake up." A voice spoke through Lexie's cries. "Wake up." My eyes opened, and I shot into a sitting position. Sweat poured down my face, my chest heaving.

The room seemed dark and unfamiliar. I lay in a full-size bed, smelling of a flowery detergent and rose perfume. It took me a moment to remember where I was and who I was with. I had fallen asleep on the sofa, not in a bedroom. I was also clothed, but now I only wore my underwear and tank top.

The moonless night and lack of streetlights kept the room almost pitch black. The only thing I recognized was the person sitting on the bed next to me. Ryker's shadowy outline dominated the s.p.a.ce. He only wore his boxer-briefs. The black string of his st.i.tches across his stomach caught my eye.

"Another one?" His hand pressed into my leg on top of the bedspread. He must have brought me in here after I fell asleep.

I nodded. My breath still struggled to remain even; the images of my dream hung heavy on me, ready to return the moment I shut my eyes.

Ryker didn't say anything else, but his hand grounded me and bought me back to reality. It was a dream, Zoey, only a dream. Daniel's and Lexie's distorted expressions of hate blistered in my mind. The guilt was all consuming. I understood I was the voice behind the rage-my subconscious blaming me. It wasn't actually them, but it didn't shake the chills out of my soul. My legs pulled up to my chest, and I laid my head on my knees, the tension along my back relaxing. The weight on the bed shifted, the frame creaking as Ryker stood. His silhouette moved for the door. Terror jolted me straighter.

"Wait," I whispered. He stopped and half turned. "Stay." I couldn't be alone. The nightmares were waiting for me to lower my lids, impatient for a chance to attack again. Having someone there felt like a barrier between sleep and terror. Ryker was my shield, keeping them at bay.

He stayed in the doorway, looking like he was debating.

Desperation to not be alone, to have him next to me, rooted deep within me. "Please."

He shifted his weight and finally nodded. He came into the room. I scooted to the far side of the bed. He lifted the covers and crawled in. Fear does funny things to your walls. Tomorrow in the daylight I would probably care, but right then-in some stranger's bedroom in the darkness-I didn't. The moment he laid back, I turned into him, curling into his chest. My head fit perfectly in the crook of his arm. The warmth of him was like taking an Ambien. He hooked his arm tighter around me, pulling me into his side. I carefully skimmed my hand over my needlework, his skin b.u.mpy where the string tightened.

Another impression dented the bottom of the bed, and I lifted my head to see a small figure of a monkey crawl onto the bed. He didn't say anything, but I felt his need not to be alone. He curled by my feet. It discharged any lingering feeling of fear or uneasiness. A smile snuggled over my features, and I tucked into Ryker even more. Drowsiness engulfed me, tugging at my conscious mind. My mouth and mind were no longer connected because I suddenly uttered, "Your sister was right. You keep toes warm."

I could have sworn I heard him utter, "And what about your heart?" But sleep took me under its wing, taking all comprehension between reality and the dreamworld away.

Sunlight streamed into the room, bringing me into consciousness. My head lifted off the pillow. I lay alone in the room. The vagueness of the night before caused me to doubt it happened at all-the whole thing a distant dream.

In the morning light, I could make out the room better. Large palm tree wallpaper covered the wall in a false tropical theme. Wicker chairs and gold fixtures only solidified it as an older couple's home. It was like stepping into a Golden Girls episode. There was so much rain and cloudy days in the Northwest I could see why they wanted to pretend they were somewhere warm and tropical.