Sydney laughed. "That's harsh."

"The truth often is."

Some of the uncertainty left her eyes, and he saw that flash of the Sydney he knew. "That's not personal.

You've never spoken of your parents, while you know all about mine."

"As I said, my parents are elderly and frail. They live outside of York."

"Are they able to come visit Lucan?"

"They don't know about his condition." That was another thing that made him feel like s.h.i.t. "I don't dare tell them. I fear them knowing their elder son is . . . unwell would be too much to bear at their age." She nodded sympathetically. "What will you do if the worst happens?"

"Lucan is receiving good care from experts. He's strong, and I'm by his side. I must believe he will pull through."

"Thank you for sharing that. I'm sorry about your brother. What can you tell me about his condition?" Nothing. Some part of him wanted to open up to Sydney, share his burden with her. The urge was nearly as compelling as his need to make love to her last night. d.a.m.n, that was a dangerous sign, especially since that sort of sharing would only lead to heartbreak-on both sides.

Finally, Caden said, "His disorder is mental. He's a danger to himself and others now."

"Oh my G.o.d." Empathy softened her dark eyes.

"Certainly you see why I didn't want to admit something like that the day we met."

"I'm sorry. I have a nasty habit of prying. The curse of being a reporter."

"I understand."

"While I'm prying, I wonder if you'd answer another question for me." He stiffened. Already he'd said more than he should. With Sydney, he was walking a tightrope. He had to seem engaged, but not invest so much that he couldn't leave later. It was already going to hurt like h.e.l.l.

Using her left a bad taste in his mouth, but staying by her side until he got the information needed to get his brother's life back was critical. Adoring her as he wanted would only mean a broken promise later.

"I'll try."

Sydney seemed to sense the change in his tone and bit her lip. "Why move to the States? Why leave for so long if your parents are elderly? Why join the U.S. Marines? Why-"

"One at a time." He held up a hand to stay her with an indulgent glance. "I moved away at eighteen.

Went to school for a bit, met some Marines and decided I wanted to join them. I obtained a green card, quit school, went to basic." He shrugged. "My parents and I . . . didn't see eye-to-eye about my future, and a decade ago, putting distance between us seemed like a good idea." A huge understatement. Caden's mother, once a gifted seer like many women in her line, kept insisting that Caden would someday embrace his considerable magic and distinguish himself as a champion.

Rubbish!

By the time she'd started making such predictions, Westin was dead, and Caden wanted nothing to do with magic, especially not hers. After leaving home, he'd judiciously avoided magickind, lurking in the States and lived among humans, seen life through their eyes-and he'd never wanted life another way since.

"So you moved to another country?"

Put like that, it sounded extreme. "They had Lucan to carry on the family traditions. I wasn't interested."

"A family business?"

"Ah, something like that," he hedged. "Anyway, I joined the Marines because it was far, far from home, and I wanted to fight-something my parents had always been against." At least in the human sense. "I made some great friends."

With the Marines, he'd fit in for the first time in his life. Sure, his platoon had ribbed him about being British and having a teacup up his a.s.s and the like. He missed them like h.e.l.l.

But no one in his platoon had known about his magical family or had expectations of him becoming any sort of wand-waving Superman. He was great with automatic weapons, could wipe the floor with most in hand-to-hand, and was without peer in explosives. He'd been happy to help Bram and the Doomsday Brethren learn some of those skills. But lending his magic . . . h.e.l.l, he didn't have any. Nor did he want to.

"Are you still friends today?"

Caden sucked a fresh breath of pain. "Most all are gone. Many died in Iraq. Some committed suicide after coming home. Another went to prison. One is missing. I'm one of the few left standing." She was the first person he'd told. No one else had asked or cared. Sharing his sorrow with her was dangerous, but felt good. Sydney threw her arms around him, as if she knew exactly how much pain it had cost him to lose friends like Walt, who everyone called T-Rex because he'd been huge and his footsteps lumbering. Or Brian, the prankster with the weird tattoos. d.a.m.n hard to believe that Brian went missing under mysterious circ.u.mstances two months ago and was presumed dead.

"I'm sorry," Sydney murmured. "I never meant to bring up something painful." Gently, Caden pulled away-though he desperately wanted to stay. For a brief moment in her arms, the hurt of the past and the worries about tomorrow had been absent. He'd simply lived in the peaceful moment. But now it was time for reality.

"I won't ask if that satisfies your curiosity, since I know better. But I should get going," he said, unable to resist filtering his fingers through her soft hair one last time. His fingers trailed away with regret.

Sydney grabbed his wrist. "Kiss me. We never got to that last night." So tempting. He craved her taste, but the increasing sweats, s.e.x drive, and tingles told him that he'd soon be a wizard. Like any wizard, he'd have the ability to sense his mate by taste-if he didn't already have that "gift." Unless he wanted to tie himself to Sydney forever, kissing her was forbidden. And mating aside, if he kissed her when he had no intention of staying, it would be more cruel, not less.

He put a hand over his mouth. "Not before I find a toothbrush. You'll thank me later." A frown wrinkled her brow. "You say the right things, but why do I get the feeling that once you walk out the door, you'll never be like this with me again?" Caden tried like h.e.l.l to keep his expression neutral, but when she stared back in distress, he guessed he'd failed Subterfuge 101. How the h.e.l.l could he answer her?

"It's . . . um, a complicated time in my life now, with my brother, my parents, and there's more. If it weren't for all that, everything between us would be different. I would choose to be with you and never let you go."

He forcibly pressed his mouth shut. Stop. There. Now. The canned response he should have given her about being interested and taking it one day at a time? Not in his vocabulary at that moment. What had possessed him to be so honest?

Despite not lying-or perhaps because of it-she looked ready to cry. She clutched the sheet tight against her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Are you turning away because I won't give up my source? Did you hope to s.h.a.g it out of me?"

Regret sliced him to the bone. "No, but mixing business and pleasure wasn't wise."

"Then go. We'll forget last night ever happened."

Impossible.

Her expression was a kick to the heart. He was heartily sick of playing this wretched game with her.

"Sydney, later, if my life becomes less complicated . . ." Sydney shut her eyes and shook her head. "Just go." Reluctantly, he turned and left her bedroom with a last glance over his shoulder at her pale curves barely concealed in the white sheet, surrounded by a halo of that fiery hair. He nearly couldn't find the fort.i.tude to leave, knowing his chances of ever holding her again were slim.

But he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and disappear down her hall.

Halfway to the door, he heard her murmur, "We both know there's no 'later' for us." The truth was like an upper cut to his abdomen. Caden braced himself against the wall and, fists clenched, fought the urge to return to her.

d.a.m.n it! Leaving was for the best. Still, if he'd wanted to escape with his heart intact, he was about twelve hours too late.

Sydney sat behind her desk that morning, struggling to focus. At the moment, weak sunlight barely leaked through her office windows, and it was an unG.o.dly seven in the morning. But it wouldn't be long before Caden arrived, and she had to look at him. Work with him. Not touch him.

Last night had been, in a word, incredible. Pa.s.sionate, giving her one jolt of pleasure after another, keeping her trembling and needy, Caden had been the lover she'd always wanted and never had. Well, except for the fact he hadn't kissed her. Odd, that. Then again, they'd been so busy doing other amazingly luscious things.

But they were done now, she feared. And the sense of rightness that had sparked last night was gone.

Whatever was going on with his brother, in his life, he was letting it come between them.

Then again, maybe it wasn't him. Maybe last night had only happened because she'd wished it into reality, a byproduct of the fact she'd written her fantasy about him in that d.a.m.ned red book. Right down to the connection that had made her heart leap. If that was true, how ridiculous and pathetic. She deserved her heartache.

Penning her wish in the book and having it come true seemed fantastic, but then, she wrote of such things all day. And believed more than a few. She'd never imagined something amazing would happen to her, but maybe this had.

Sydney covered her face and tried to fight tears. d.a.m.n it, even knowing he had some hidden agenda, she had still written of her desire for him, then succ.u.mbed to his touch completely. Stupid! And no matter what he said, her refusal to give up the name of her source played a role in his abrupt departure. Every part of their conversation this morning- except the brief moments he'd discussed his brother and his platoon-had felt off somehow.

Work. She had to focus on that. Her fling with Caden had been brief, perhaps even manufactured. Just because they'd clicked surprisingly well didn't mean it was some spectacular affair of the heart. They'd s.h.a.gged. She'd never allowed any man to break her heart, and he wouldn't earn that distinction after a single night.

Launching her e-mail, Sydney vowed to focus. She perked up right away when she received an e-mail from her informant at the Coroner's Office, a friend from her uni days. The woman finally had news regarding the bodies of the partially decomposed soldiers in the tunnel discovered just over two weeks ago. The e-mail simply read Call me before nine.

Heart pounding, palms sweating, Sydney rang Chloe's mobile phone.

" 'lo," answered a groggy man.

"Is Chloe there? Sorry to ring so early."

After a moment of shuffling and a giggle, Chloe answered, "Syd?" Chloe had been happily married for nearly four years to a handsome devil named Blake. Sydney would be jealous if she hadn't always regarded Blake as the big brother she'd never had.

"What's your news?" Sydney asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

"Good morning to you, too." Chloe laughed. "Very unofficially, here's what I know about the bodies discovered in the tunnel."

"Following the November fourteenth skirmish I've been writing about? The magic thing?"

"Exactly," Chloe confirmed. "Tests have identified all the bodies. Are you sitting?"

"Yes. On with it, you tease!"

"You know me too well." Chloe shot back, then sobered. "All the bodies were of servicemen-from all over the world, including seven of the eight American soldiers who mysteriously disappeared on September nineteenth from a training exercise at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. They were all part of the Marines Special Operations Command."

Sydney's jaw dropped. As the surreal words sunk in, she muttered, "b.u.g.g.e.r! Special Forces . . . I remember hearing about the disappearance of those soldiers!"

"The higher-ups at the office are all being very hush-hush. But that in itself says something. Next of kin are being notified now, but their ident.i.ties aren't being released to the media yet, so I can't give you that or my boss would be suspicious."

Chloe had already delivered more than expected. She owed her old friend a pint or two at least. "Of course. Anything else you can give me?"

"You know from our previous conversation that the bodies were decomposed weeks beyond what their battle wounds suggested. Your grainy photos showed that several were decapitated, a few others shot or stabbed. But they bled as profusely as if they were alive. And they bled black."

"Black?"

"Indeed. It's a complete mystery. There's no blood type. Everyone was identified by fingerprints, distinguishing marks, or dental records."

Sydney paused. What would cause such a thing? New disease? Black blood sounded crazy, but working at Out of This Realm, she'd quickly learned that nothing was impossible. "Odd."

"Very," Chloe agreed. "a.s.suming your story is real, do you have any theories about which side the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.ds fought for?"

"No. I've heard little about the other side, this Doomsday Brethren. My source says they're good, but they're fighting Mathias, who claims to be battling for equality. Yet he raped a woman until she was little more than a broken sh.e.l.l. But does his evil automatically make the Doomsday Brethren good? If I had to guess, I'd say the soldiers were Mathias's. If he cares so little as to repeatedly rape a woman, I doubt he's above kidnapping a few well-trained soldiers and using them in his army." Chloe hesitated. "Do you really think this is all true, not merely this terrorized woman's hallucinations?"

"It's possible, I suppose. But there's enough fact here to make me pause. Call me if you hear any more." They rang off, and Sydney jotted down a few notes- which quickly grew frustrating. She had another story to crank out this week on the magical war, and she wanted it to be about Chloe's information, slanted accurately, but she had so many questions. How did these soldiers fit into the grand scheme of the war? Had they been used for magical purposes? How were they persuaded or forced to fight and give their lives for this cause? Perhaps she could run with the facts as they were, but the pieces of the puzzle didn't fit. She needed to talk to her source again and see what else the witch might know.

Sydney placed a quick call to Aquarius. When her a.s.sistant didn't answer, she left a voicemail, apologizing for the interruption of her holiday and asking for a ring back indicating whether Aquarius's guest would talk again.

Not long after she placed the phone back in the cradle, she felt a presence in the doorway.

Caden.

"Good morning," she said, forcing a businesslike tone. "Did you need something? I'm off to a busy start, so spit it out."

He stepped in and shut the door behind him, planting his fists on her desk and leaning closer. "Sydney, I'm-"

"Stop." She put up a hand, refusing to reveal that the sight of him had her blood pumping and her heart aching. If they talked about last night, she'd risk tears. "I just have one question: Why did you come over last night? What made you leave your flat in the middle of the night and come all the way crosstown to mine? Was it the s.e.x or something else?"

He paused, scrubbing a hand over his face. A weariness she'd never seen dragged down his eyes, mouth, shoulders. For a moment, Sydney's heart went out to him, until she reminded herself that she couldn't feel for him and keep her heart unscathed. Something about Caden called to her, and she wasn't certain he suffered the same affliction. He'd risen from her bed, dressed, left, and as far as she could see, suffered no side effects other than lack of sleep. It wasn't as if she was looking for a down-on-one-knee proposal, just the truth.

"Pure impulse. I was attracted to you from the first. I tried to keep to myself because we work together, my life is complicated now, and I can't give you a tomorrow. But I came over last night because I could no longer stay away. I tried to talk myself out of going to your flat, but every moment I was away from you, I became more obsessed with making love to you." Had that been the magical diary compelling him to come to my door? Sydney swallowed. No. It was just an old red book, right? This had to be about her story. She believed in magic, yes. But not involving her.

"Did you come because you wanted to persuade me to divulge my magical source?"

"No, but if you'd like to make me a full partner in this story, I'd love that."

"And what, you thought being my partner in the bedroom would help you get there faster?"

"d.a.m.n it! I dreamed of you, literally, in the precise lingerie you wore for me last night. I dreamed of tearing it off, of the sweet taste of your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, of your body clutching my c.o.c.k, of the groans you made when you came for me. How the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l was I supposed to stay away from you after that?" Oh G.o.d. Sydney sat back with a gulp. "Would you . . . um, say you felt compelled?"

"Yes. But I take responsibility for mucking up everything." Caden stopped, leaned closer, peering at her as if trying to unravel a puzzle. "Wait. Did you write about me in that b.l.o.o.d.y book Aquarius gave you?" She wanted to crawl under the desk and stay for a decade. "Don't be absurd." How had he guessed so quickly? Had her words really brought him to her door? G.o.d, she felt like an idiot!

"Forget I asked about last night. Let's focus on work." His eyes narrowed. "What made you open the door and let me in?"

"It's no secret I wanted you. But as you said earlier, itch scratched. Moving on."

"I said no such thing," he growled.

Hadn't he, just hours ago? Hadn't he said repeatedly they had no future? Of course. He hadn't been there of his own free will in the first place. "Don't play games."

"Which is exactly what you've done by cheapening last night." He was right; she had cheapened last night, most likely. In a way she hoped he never discovered.

"Sorry."

She couldn't expect an emotional response from Caden when she'd used a magical diary to break his natural reticence. He'd come to her flat and s.h.a.gged her because that had been her wish, not because he felt any eternal devotion.

"Forget I mentioned it. Work is piling up this morning, and I'm stressed." Caden gnashed his teeth and looked away. "Is it going to start another fight if I ask if there's anything I can do to help?"

"No." Because if he stayed with her in this small office, she was in grave danger of wrapping her arms around him and pleading for his affection.

Before he could respond, Sydney's phone rang. The caller ID had her sighing in relief. Aquarius.

Sydney picked it up and answered, "Thank G.o.d you've called. Can you meet me?" Caden wasn't certain who Sydney was talking to and, at the moment, didn't much care. Frustration ate at him. Everything about this situation was wrong, and he had no idea how to fix it. And now Sydney was on the b.l.o.o.d.y phone with G.o.d knew who, discussing G.o.d knew what. For all he knew, she was making a date.

On second thought, he did care who she talked to; he needed to know who to kill.

Quickly, Sydney covered her earpiece, "Can you give me a moment?" With an angry jerk, he turned to leave. But he couldn't make himself walk away. If Sydney was in the process of replacing him in her bed mere hours later . . . well, he wasn't a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t by nature, but something in him needed to know. He couldn't keep her, but he couldn't stand the thought of losing her.