She met his eyes without flinching. "The first one was in Minneapolis. The tall one, Eddie? He had me cornered in the stairwell at my hotel. Two college kids came through the door, and I guess they thought Eddie was mugging me. One of them called the cops and the other one tried to get in between us."

She could see the scene in her memory even now, could hear the slightly drunken slur in the boy's voice. He couldn't have been older than twenty-one, newly legal and enjoying the h.e.l.l out of the city's nightlife. The memory of what happened next made her voice shake. "Eddie snapped his neck. Like it was no big deal."

Marcus was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. "You must have been mistaken. Eddie wouldn't have killed anyone. That's not what this whole thing is about."

"It happened again in Chicago," she continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "The bouncer at the place I was dancing."

He backed away from her. "Look, maybe Eddie roughed them up, but he didn't kill anyone. That's bulls.h.i.t."

"Steven told me it's been going on for years." Instinct screamed at her, told her not to press him. If he really had no idea what was going on, she risked pushing him into rejecting what she said out of hand. She tried to pull back, but she couldn't stop the flood of words. "What do you think happened to my parents, Marcus? What do you think happened to your parents?"

He paled and took another step, but his eyes went hard. "My parents died in a car accident when I was a child," he said stonily. "Charles Talbot took me in, and he's given me everything. So you might want to watch what you say next."

She'd gone too far. "I'm sorry."

"Sure you are," he scoffed. "Look, if it were up to me, I wouldn't keep you here. But that's d.a.m.n selfish of me. What we're supposed to do is more important than what I want, or what you want. But that doesn't mean Dad would let the things you're describing happen. He wouldn't."

She ignored the guilt and the protests of her empty stomach, and dropped her gaze to the floor. "Should I go upstairs?"

His hands clenched into fists at his sides before relaxing. "No. No, of course not." He nodded down a hallway. "The conservatory is that way. Enjoy your dinner." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off in the opposite direction.

Thanks to her newly sharp senses, Mackenzie heard both voices before she reached the top of the stairs. She recognized the cadence of the first voice as belonging to Marcus, but the second was lower, m.u.f.fled, and she couldn't place it.

As her steps brought her closer, she realized Marcus was talking to Charles, and the conversation had grown heated. "Why didn't you tell me Eddie and Mason might be-"

Charles cut Marcus off in a low voice. "You should have recognized it as a possibility, Marcus. In a perfect world none of this would have been necessary, but you of all people know what we're fighting for."

"It's unacceptable, Dad." Marcus's own voice was low and furious, but rising in volume. "We're trying to save people, not kill innocent ones who just happen to get in our way."

"I've been alive almost eighty years," Charles replied shortly. "I've watched my kind slowly disappear. How many of us do you think are left? Thirty? Forty? Your children could be the last generation. A few human deaths are nothing compared to the extinction of our entire race."

"What about cougar deaths?" The question was quiet but d.a.m.ning. "What really happened to my parents? To Mackenzie's parents?"

Mackenzie froze, afraid to move as silence fell in the study. Her heart pounded so loudly she was terrified Charles and Marcus would be able to hear, but no one came to the door as the silence stretched out.

When Charles finally broke it, it was with a harsh curse. "Steven and his lies. The girl doesn't know better, Marcus, but you should. Steven's had time to fill her head with nonsense. It's your job to make her understand, not to let her confuse you."

"But it makes sense," Marcus protested weakly. "If you'd have Eddie kill people to get to Mackenzie, what else would you do?"

"Nothing is more important to me than the cougars." Charles's voice was icy. "Nothing. Never forget that."

It took Marcus a long time to answer. "Okay. Okay, Dad. I'm sorry."

Mackenzie heard footsteps and scurried back as quietly as possible. When she reached the top of the stairs she cleared her throat and walked-with a good deal more noise-toward her room.

Charles opened the study door, his expression warm and friendly and contrasting starkly with the cold look in his eyes. "Ah, there you are, Mackenzie. I hope you enjoyed your dinner?"

It was the hardest thing in the world to smile at him, and she was sure it looked sickly and terrified. "It was good, thank you. I was just-" She gestured down the hall.

Marcus appeared beside him in the doorway. "I should only be a couple of hours, Dad." He brushed past Mackenzie without even looking at her.

"Drive carefully," Charles called pleasantly. "Mackenzie, please allow me to accompany you to your room."

Fear skittered up Mackenzie's spine, and she turned without thought. "Marcus, where are you-"

He continued as if he hadn't heard her, but Charles spoke just behind her, quiet and cold. "He has some errands to run. I can't go myself, because I can't trust you not to lie to him in an attempt to secure your own interests. But don't worry. He'll return soon."

She spun to face Charles. Fear made her stumble when she saw the furious expression on his face. "I didn't lie." She hated the slight tremble in her voice, but her newly awakened instincts felt nothing but pure, unabated power from Charles, the kind that made her want to find a dim corner and hide.

"Neither did I." Charles's words and manner were matter-of-fact. "There is nothing more important to me than the cougars." At her small start of surprise, he rolled his eyes and leaned closer. "Yes, yes, I could feel you out here, eavesdropping. Tell me. Did you learn anything useful?"

"That you're a very, very good liar," she whispered.

Charles merely shrugged and straightened his sweater before beckoning for her to follow him. "Live as long as I have, and you'll be accomplished at it as well. Tiny fabrications are the cornerstone of our civilization, wouldn't you agree?"

She followed him. There wasn't anything else she could do, not when his power wrapped around her with all the smothering weight of a heavy wool blanket. Her legs felt stiff and unsteady from fear as she fell into step next to him, and she shoved her hands into her pockets to hide their shaking. "Since you're being so honest with me, what's going to happen to me if I don't feel up to making babies?"

His glance was shrewd. "Yes, I suppose you would press the issue, wouldn't you? Very well." He folded his hands behind him as he walked. "I don't need your consent to have your consent. I have several very strong, very competent empaths on retainer. I a.s.sure you I would find the entire process distasteful, but... Well, as I have said, there isn't much I wouldn't do to see our race survive."

Mackenzie swallowed and stared straight ahead. "Will Marcus know that he's raping me, or will you keep that detail from him as well?"

If she'd hoped to shock him, she failed. He didn't miss a step, and his response was nonchalant. "I see no reason to punish him with the truth, not when he's merely doing his duty. I never have."

So Marcus would be Charles's puppet again, hurting people without realizing it. Hurting her without realizing it. "You're going to destroy him. He loves you. He trusts you."

That stopped him, and he pivoted to stare at her, his expression inscrutable. "Perhaps you didn't hear me the first time, Miss Evans. The children you and Marcus create will be the culmination of a lifetime's work, and the continuation of our race." His eyes flashed with something that might have been pain, but the emotion was gone before Mackenzie could place it. "That, my girl, is more important than any fond memories Marcus might have of me when I'm gone."

For the first time since she'd arrived, her determination wavered. "How many children?" she asked quietly. "How many children would I need to have for you before I was free to live my own life?"

"As many as possible would be preferable," he said immediately, "but one would suffice. If nothing went wrong."

"Fine." She struggled to keep her voice even. "Can I have a day or two to think about it?"

"Of course," he said with a paternal smile. "Take three, and let me know what you decide. I believe this is the room Marcus chose for you?"

"Yes." It was impossible to smile at him, but she managed to keep her expression neutral as she walked into the room. Every instinct in her body raged against the idea of turning her back on him, but she struggled to suppress them. Calm. Docile. Subdued. In all likelihood, Charles already knew she planned to escape, but she couldn't sit and wait for him to strip her of her free will.

"Mackenzie?"

She took a deep breath before turning to face him, her expression as blank as she could make it.

His own face was serene. "I'm only as heartless as I have to be. Remember that." He closed the door behind him, and she could hear his quiet footfalls taking him down the hall, away from her.

Mackenzie rested her forehead against the door as she listened to the hushed sounds of the house around her. She was almost positive escape would be impossible. Charles was too smart, too determined, to have failed to cover every eventuality. If she was lucky, he'd find her attempt to leave amusing. If she wasn't...

She had no idea what the extent of an empath's powers were, but she had no doubt Charles could find someone to rewrite her feelings, maybe even her entire personality. If he thought she was going to be too much trouble he'd do it tonight, before Marcus even returned.

So I try. And maybe-just maybe-luck would be with her for once.

Chapter Eighteen.

Jackson watched a small motorboat make its way across the lake and grumbled under his breath. The place was beautiful, the scenery breathtaking...and he was ready to explode.

The three days since they'd arrived in New Hampshire had been filled with activity. He, Mahalia and Mich.e.l.le had been focused on pooling their efforts to create the talismans that would allow them access to Talbot's compound, and the shifters had occupied themselves with planning the more mundane details of the a.s.sault.

And it would be an a.s.sault. That was unavoidable. His body hummed with adrenaline at the thought, and he tamped it down. He was getting restless, edgy, and that would do no one any good.

Least of all Mackenzie.

Jackson closed his eyes and slapped his hand on the cedar picnic table.

Next to him, Alec huffed in annoyance. "Is that helping? Beating up the furniture, I mean. Not sure I'm getting the tactical value."

"Shut up," he snarled, glaring over at him. "I don't recall asking your opinion."

"Too bad. You're getting it anyway."

Jackson laughed, a short, humorless sound. "By all means, wise old sage, impart some wisdom. You're going to whether I like it or not."

His partner leaned back and grinned at him. "d.a.m.n straight I am. I think you should go run laps around the cabin until you're too f.u.c.king tired to sit here and fidget like Kat on a caffeine binge."

He c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Alec. "Is this an army thing? I'm a little nervous, so I have to do laps?"

"A little nervous?" Alec snorted. "Yeah, Jackson. Keep telling yourself that."

Jackson's hands itched. In the last five years, he and Alec had had a normal friendship, with the accompanying ups and downs. They'd laughed together, but they'd also beaten each other's a.s.ses, and it was looking like today was going to be a case of the latter rather than the former. "Keep pickin' at me, Jacobson, and I'll smack you down. I'm not in the mood."

Alec rose with enviable grace, the lazy grin still curling his lips. "Sure, if trying to land a punch on me will help, go right ahead."

The cabin's back door opened, and Mahalia stepped onto the porch with a steaming cup of coffee. She surveyed the scene in the yard. "Oh, Lord. Peyton!" she bellowed into the kitchen.

Nick appeared a moment later, looking a good bit less polished than Mahalia and stifling a yawn. "What-oh. Are they going to throw down?"

Jackson scowled and pointed his finger at her. "Stay out of this, Nicky."

Nick merely laughed and leaned over the porch railing. "Kick his a.s.s, Jackson. You can do it."

Mahalia was less amused. "I was going to say, 'd.a.m.n fool men,' but you're not much better, Nicole. You might even be worse."

Jackson turned his attention back to Alec. "Let's get one thing straight. I won't be trying to hit you. I'll be moppin' the floor with your a.s.s."

"Uh-huh." Alec swung his arms back and forth to loosen up. "What about you, Mahalia? Who are you laying your money on?"

She gave him a dark look. "I'm laying it on myself, Alexander, because when you two are finished acting like babies, I'm going to whoop both of y'all's a.s.ses."

Nick's mug thumped on the railing. "No unfair advantages, Alec."

Jackson shot her a disgusted look. "Nick." His ego was already taking a beating, and they hadn't thrown the first punch.

"What?" she asked innocently. "You're not going to zap him, so he can't get all Dark Warrior of the Night on you."

Alec laughed with infuriating amus.e.m.e.nt. "Fair enough. We can both play nice."

The door opened again. Mich.e.l.le came out, as perfectly put together as Mahalia, and her gaze went from Alec to Jackson before jumping to her sister. "Are they going to-?"

"Fight?" Nick nodded and sipped her coffee. "I've got twenty bucks on Jackson."

Mahalia looked sheepish. "Fifty on Alec. But I believe in fairness above all..." She closed her eyes and whispered something Jackson couldn't hear.

A tingle of magic rushed through him, and he drew in a sharp breath. The world suddenly seemed slower, brighter, more intense. He could hear his own heart, as well as the leisurely beat of Alec's. "May..."

"Now, when Alec pummels you, I'll have won fair and square. You've got all the strength and speed of a shifter for about fifteen minutes, Jack."

Nick hooted with laughter. "You're on. Fifty bucks." She nudged Mich.e.l.le. "You want in on the action?"

"Fifty on Aaron," Mich.e.l.le replied before turning to look back into the house. Her quiet voice should have been too soft for him to understand, but with magic coursing through his veins, her words were clear. "Can I bet on you?"

Jackson heard a low chuckle as the bodyguard stepped through the doorway, his fingers sliding briefly against Mich.e.l.le's arm. The hulking man approached them, his short red hair blowing lightly in the breeze as he grinned. "If you don't let me play, she'll pout for months. You ever seen a Peyton pout? It's horrible."

"I see it all the time, buddy," Jackson commiserated as he rolled up his sleeves. "It ain't pretty."

Nick pouted at Mahalia. "Is it too late for me to put my money on Alec?"

But Mahalia paid her no mind. "How do we want to do this? Flip a coin, third guy fights the winner? Or are y'all just going to brawl?"

Jackson stretched his shoulders and considered the question. "I just want to hit someone. I don't care if it's in a clean, organized fight or a dog pile."

"Well, then." Alec swung a punch at Aaron's head.

"Hey!" Jackson rushed Alec and caught him with a shoulder in the stomach as Aaron recovered and threw a retaliatory punch at Alec. It hit Jackson instead, knocking him dizzy.

The fight soon dissolved into a blur of swinging fists, laughter, grunts, and the occasional muttered curse. Jackson could hear Nick cheering him on and whooping as he landed a hard punch to Alec's midsection and caught another glancing blow from Aaron.

The back door of the cabin opened and closed, and a whistle pierced the air. Jackson elbowed Aaron one last time and looked up, panting.

Steven stood on the porch, looking stern. "Boys."

Even doubled over and breathing hard from the solid punch Aaron had landed in his stomach, Alec managed a c.o.c.ky grin. "Jackson needed to blow off some steam."

The door opened again. John Peyton seemed less surprised by the scene on the back lawn. "Get it out of your system, Holt?"

He straightened before answering. "Yes, sir."