"Oh, right." I locked on the flickering generator light pouring brightness into the room. Of course. He returned because of his powers. I was a walking, talking lockbox holding his prize possession.

We stayed quiet as he cleaned my wounds.

"I knew a regular bullet wouldn't kill you, but I didn't think fae survived their necks being snapped." I swallowed. "I thought you were dead."

He huffed, picking out the gravel embedded in my cuts. "Believe me, I am almost impossible to kill. Better men and fae have tried before, and they didn't succeed." His eyes rolled under in a slight frown. "It did take me longer than I thought to heal and swim back. I should have been here sooner. I apologize."

He'd been shot a dozen times, his neck broken, and was dumped in the middle of the Pacific, but he was apologizing because he didn't get back fast enough?

His arm dropped from my mouth and went to the cut near my temple. "Close your eyes."

I gratefully did what he asked, his chest being far too close for comfort.

"Well, I'm glad you came back," I blurted without thought.

Silence.

Finally he spoke, a slight teasing in his voice. "The Avenging Angel, huh? You told me you were a street fighter, but I didn't realize you were infamous."

I peeked at him through my lashes. "My return kind of sent it into overdrive. But yeah. I was pretty well known. I started at fifteen, and I was good."

"I think you forgot to emphasize how good you were. Some of those people had tops with your nickname on it."

"Because you're so forthcoming with me," I responded.

A scowl creased his forehead, and his mouth thinned.

Humming from the outside generators and voices from the dispersing crowd seeped into the dark room. "Thank you again for coming for me. I mean, I'm glad you were there to stop Marcello from killing me... or me killing her." Admitting aloud I was going to murder her struck me.

Frantic realization shot through my chest to my head. I jerked from Ryker's touch, my eyes wide with awareness. "G.o.d." I squirmed in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable in my skin. "I was going to do it. I really wanted to kill her." My lungs surged in and out in sporadic gulps, triggering my chest to ache more. I had done a lot of bad s.h.i.t in my day, but murder was not one of them. Fighting was something I enjoyed, but I had never wanted to finish off any of my opponents so literally.

My hand slammed into Ryker, pushing him away from me as I hopped from the ledge. I gritted my teeth in agony, but my mind moved my wobbly legs in frenzied steps across the tiles. My one hand went to a loose piece of hair, stroking it between my fingers, trying to soothe the hysteria spreading through by body. The other arm wrapped around my stomach, trying to press away the pain pounding in my torso.

"What is wrong with me? I was going to beat her to death!" I could hear the wail in my voice.

"Zoey." Ryker took a stride to me.

"No," I shouted. "Seriously, tell me what is wrong with me." He pressed his lips together, watching me. "I didn't even think about it. I was simply going to do it." Liquid filled under my lids. My one arm stayed locked around my middle while my other hand rubbed at my face and hair. "Something is very wrong with me. I've denied it for so long, but it's always been there. It's why the little old lady got rid of me. She saw it. She knew I was not right." I rubbed at my chest, pulling at Ryker's shirt. "Daniel Senior hinted about DMG doing something to me. What if I'm not natural..." I let my sentence trail off. Tears clouded my vision, a few escaping and falling down my face. "No one normal wants to feel someone's bones crunching under a fist or to taste their opponent's blood."

The tears now plummeted from my cheeks. "What did DMG do to me? Did they make me evil, or is it simply me?" I pleaded, knowing fully well he couldn't answer my question. Logic didn't matter; I needed someone to help me, to carry some of my burden. Everything came rushing back to me: the years of keeping everyone else together; trying to be responsible and in control; never asking for help even when I felt myself drowning. A choked cry tore from my lungs, my legs giving out, and I went to my knees.

Sobs I had held back since I was a child came gasping to the surface, denied too long. I had only cried in front of two people my entire life. Really cried. Once was when I was five, and a foster "grandma" slapped me hard across the face and told me to suck it up and get thicker skin. The other person stood beside me now. Even if those tears were well deserved, I didn't like showing my vulnerability. Daniel hadn't even seen me cry, and already this fae had seen it a couple of times.

The Wanderer bent, his large hands grasping my shoulders. It was what I wanted, someone to touch me, to hold me. But the need for not only someone-but specifically him-sent my fury into overdrive. A crazed wail clogged my windpipe, my arms striking out, hitting anything they could. I no longer felt the pain in my body. Everything in me turned off.

"Maria injected me with something..." Whatever she gave me did something to me. I clung to the thought, grasping at straws, but this excuse wouldn't stick. It was me. I had wanted to kill the girl.

"Zoey," he said firmly, his voice calm.

"Don't touch me." Abhorrence and fear blasted over me, and a dry heave rose from my abdomen. I tried so hard to be the woman Daniel would love and be proud of. Now look at me. In collaboration with a fae, the very thing he trained me to capture and despise. The girl he cared about was a lie. She never existed. The truth hit me deeper than anything else. I actually believed I had changed and I could rise above the foul life I was born into. But I hadn't. I played the part, but the only person I deceived was myself.

Ryker held me tighter against him. "Stop."

I spit at him, my nails clawing for his arm and face.

"Zoey..."

"f.u.c.k off, fae!" He had called me human for so long. I should have done the same and kept him in his rightful place. Far away from me. I hated him and everything he represented. "You left me!" The words flew from my mouth. "You left me alone. I was better off without you. I wish you never came into my life."

With a growl, he latched on to my biceps and lifted me. His jaw was locked; his eyes glowed in the dark room. "Enough!" He slammed me into the wall. My head bobbed off the tile, creating a vehement hiss. My dangling legs kicked wildly to hit any part of him I could. "STOP!" he bellowed and threw me back onto the counter. He thrust himself between my legs, pressing my arms back into the gla.s.s. My ribs suddenly came back to life, protesting the harsh movement.

I took a gulp of air, squeezing my lids together. The throbbing made my head spin. I took another choppy inhale through my nose. He slid my arms down the mirror but didn't let go. He moved them closer to my chest so I wasn't overextended. The hurt was still there but lessened a bit.

"Are you calm now?" His gruff voice forced my lashes to lift.

His lips were only inches from mine. His face was tight, but his eyes glowed intensely. Air pumped at his bare chest, highlighting his toned muscles. Desire unexpectedly consumed me-the primal yearning to forget myself in someone. To let go and feel pleasure.

He adjusted his grip, pressing closer. The friction brushed against my inner thighs. My mouth opened, breath sucking through my teeth. The overpowering need to pull down his jeans and feel him slide deep into me wrapped around my lungs, limiting their motion. As if he could sense my thoughts, he tensed. The tattoo on his neck flickered. His lids drifted half closed, and his attention was drawn to my lips. The heat from his mouth reverberated off mine. Our deep breaths bounced off the four walls, pounding in my ears. Neither of us moved. Ryker stayed pressed against me, and I felt every inch of him. A drop of blood from my sliced lip seeped along my neck, trailing between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His eyes followed it.

My head suddenly spun. l.u.s.t and need kindled hot, inciting my nerves. My muscles trembled. I could hear his breath falter in my ear, becoming sporadic.

Holy s.h.i.t, Zoey. What are you thinking? He is fae. A voice came thundering into my head. I'd heard in heightened situations you felt emotions you normally wouldn't. This had to be the reason. Besides, he had a girlfriend, and I was still in love with Daniel. And bottom line: I hated fae, and he despised humans.

Ryker's hand clenched mine. Then he was gone. He retreated across the room, his back hitting the toilet stalls. My arms slowly fell back to my sides. It was a long time before either of us spoke. Finally, his deep voice broke the uncomfortable silence. "You are not evil or wrong."

My tongue dampened my lips, wiping the blood away. I wanted to speak, but my voice couldn't find its way out.

"You act and pretend, only showing certain aspects of yourself to please others. There is no good and bad. Only you. And you have to accept all parts of yourself. The more you push away or deny who you are, the more intense the various sides will be when you let them slip."

I sat taller, looking at my dangling legs. Protectively, my arm wrapped around my middle again. "But what if I don't want to?"

"Then you will never truly be happy." His gaze finally met mine. Steady but distant. "You are a survivor. You do what you need to stay alive. Don't be ashamed of all the different aspects of yourself."

"I was going to kill her."

"Yes."

"I was going to beat her to death, Ryker."

"Do you think I feel sympathy for that human?"

I scoffed. "No. You're fae. We're nothing to you. You care nothing about human lives."

He stood straight, his shoulders ramming back. "I care about one."

Breath caught in my chest. Blood rushed to my cheeks. Stupid, Zoey. Of course he cares. He cares about what you carry inside.

I pushed myself off the counter, needing to change the direction of the conversation and emotion in the restroom. "We should go. We need to get Sprig. Marcello still has him imprisoned at the warehouse. Oh my G.o.d. My bag. Daniel's book and..." I freaked.

Ryker peered at the ceiling, taking a huge breath. He grabbed an object under the cloak on the floor. "I got it. I went back to the warehouse before finding you here." Of course, Ryker had to go there to get his axe. Last I saw, it was on Marcello's desk. "Sprig was gone."

"What? Gone?"

"The cage was sitting on a desk in one of the rooms, but the lid was open." He curved slightly forward and pushed himself off the stall. "He wasn't there."

A dagger stabbed my heart. I might not particularly like fae in general, but the little b.u.g.g.e.r had grown on me. He showed me all fae weren't bad. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Ryker tilted his head, annoyance rippling over his features. "If he is free, he will find you."

I hoped with all my heart Sprig escaped and was on his way to us now.

"We have to keep moving forward. I know what bank your key belongs to."

With everything going on, I had forgotten about the reason Ryker and I had separated. Daniel's key. "What? Where?" I exclaimed. "Do you still have the key?"

"Bellevue." Ryker pulled at a black cord around his neck; the key dangled from it. It had slipped around and lay on his back when he took off his shirt, hiding the object from my notice.

"Bellevue?" The excitement deflated. It was not far if you had a car or could take a bus. By foot, it would take at least half a day, and walking left us vulnerable.

"We'll find somewhere safe to spend the night and start out in the morning." Ryker bent and lifted the cloak he had been wearing earlier. "Put this on until we find new clothes for you. Your pants are still covered in blood, and Marcello's men will be looking for you." He threw the scratchy cover at me.

"And a shirtless Viking with white eyes won't stand out?" I circled the cape about me, pulling the hood over my head. I grabbed my bag, already missing the weight Sprig produced.

"I am still fae. I can be invisible a lot easier than you," he retorted. When Ryker was satisfied the blanket covered me head to toe, he turned for the door. Unlatching the lock, his hand paused on the k.n.o.b. "With or without the powers, I would have come back for you." He yanked open the squeaky door and slid out into the dark night, leaving me gaping at his exit line.

TWENTY-SIX.

"We'll stay here tonight." I think my limping finally got to Ryker, but I had to admit I experienced a lot less pain the more I walked. Exhaustion was tiring me more than movement.

We made it a little past Sam Smith Park before he had enough. We would cross over the Murrow Bridge in the morning, leading us to Bellevue. It took Ryker longer to find us a place. Less damage had been done out this far, so more people stayed locked in their homes. We finally found a studio across from a little Italian restaurant off Interstate 90. Once I broke into the spot, he secured all the doors and windows. There was a musky, foul smell coming from the refrigerator. Whatever was in there would stay enclosed. Everything would be rotten by now, and it would only let out the rank odor.

Ryker lit the last of the candles in my bag, giving the five-hundred-square-foot apartment a glow. I wandered around the s.p.a.ce. It had windows on the street side. The bed was on the opposite wall with a small sofa at the foot it, facing the TV. The bathroom and small kitchen were on the far side. The style was clean with a touch of eclectic. Un-frilly, but clearly a girl lived here: fashion magazines on the table; pictures of friends decorated the walls; heels lined her closet; and funky outfits mixed with sleek office-style suits. The place was tiny but cute and functional. I was envious of whomever lived here. This was what I imagined my first place to be like. Minuscule-but all mine. The dream of owning my own apartment seemed hopeless now.

In the kitchen, a calendar was pinned to the wall. I ran my fingers over it, touching the day when my entire universe changed. The woman had written "Leave for Hawaii" two days before Seattle exploded in flames. At least I knew she was alive and in a warm, secure place. Far away from this mess.

"Do you know what day it is?" I asked.

Ryker was lowering the shades in the living s.p.a.ce. "No." He paused, peering at the ceiling in thought. "Wait. I think it's Thursday, April 18. It's what the fliers for the fight on Marcello's desk stated."

I touched the date and let out a sad chuckle.

"What?"

"Today's my birthday," I said quietly. A few weeks ago the date held so much hope. Daniel was going to take me out. I felt in my bones things would have changed in our relationship. They were slowly beginning to-before he was taken from me. I think he knew it, too. It's why he asked my plans for the day. My birthday was the pivotal night, and he would have finally let his guard down.

I can't say my birthday had ever been a happy event. Most of the time, it was ignored. But between Lexie getting old enough to really understand other people's birthdays and Daniel coming into my life, things were changing. I looked forward to them. It brought me one year older in Daniel's eyes to be more a "suitable" age.

"Happy birthday," Ryker said awkwardly.

"Don't they celebrate birthdays in the Otherworld?"

"I'm sure they do, but I never lived in the Otherworld. And I've never celebrated my birthday."

"Why not?" I turned to look at him through the kitchen pa.s.s-through.

"Do I look like the type to have birthday parties?"

"No." I smirked. The visual of him with a party hat on, blowing out candles was almost too much.

"I also don't know what day it is." He shrugged, finishing securing the blinds.

"You don't know when you were born?"

"No. I went to the Tamang family when I was three. I don't remember much before."

"Much? At three, most wouldn't remember a thing."

"It's more impressions. I can't see anyone's face, but I remember my mother was tall and beautiful. Her hair was the color of sunlight."

"And your father?"

"All I remember is in contrast to my mother, he was dark, and I feared him." Ryker rubbed his temples, turning his back on me. He didn't want to talk anymore about his first family.

Silence grew between us.

"Thank you." I cleared my throat.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "For what?"

"For telling me." I motioned to him. "For saving me today. I would be dead right now or a murderer or forced to be Marcello's next s.e.x slave." I shivered at the thought. What he would have done to me after the fight would have me wishing to have died in it.

"I should have made sure I killed him. Slowly." Ryker's eyes flared bright. "Did he do anything to you?"

There were a lot of close calls, and he did enough, but I didn't feel like telling Ryker any details. He couldn't do anything about it now anyway.

"No." I shook my head, leaning against the sink and bringing the subject back to safer ground. "It's funny because at one time, all I wanted to do on my birthday was fight. I can't say there isn't a part of me that still doesn't enjoy it in some way, but it didn't feel the same. I finally realized how much my past was controlling me the night I told you what happened to me. I was letting it run my life. It consumed me, eating slowly at my soul."

Ryker stared at me, not moving or speaking.

"Well, anyway, thank you again. I can honestly say you've been the only thing to make this a pretty good birthday." I chuckled. "It's the simple things, right? I lived without being killed or raped. It's a good day."