"I'm so glad you feel that way."

Stephan whirled with shock at the sudden voice at his back. A Vampire, whom he had no sense of, stood there. Suddenly another appeared and another, until half a dozen surrounded him.

The birds, Stephan realized.

Rubio had been but the bait, and the birds the camouflage used to squeeze him between the teeth of the trap.

"So be it," he whispered before the six leapt for him.

Chapter 17.

Syreena was quagmired in the depths of her sleep. She had spent the first century of her life growing up in a monastery, where everyone went to bed late after a hard night of work, and woke early to greet the dusk. She had learned to sleep hard and sleep fast. Damien had often teased her for her ability to remain nearly comatose once she had committed herself to sleep. He had threatened to see if he could actually make love to her while she slept through it. So far, he had been unsuccessful.

So when she suddenly felt herself being pulled toward consciousness, she only partially resisted it. Syreena was confused, of course. Damien had clearly needed a good hunt and was inclined to disengage himself from her insatiable appetite whenever the opening arose. She was completely understanding of that. He wasn't of her species and wasn't drawn so overwhelmingly at these times as she was. Although he had no problems keeping pace, he also enjoyed his respites when the opportunities presented themselves.

Syreena was lying facedown in her bed, the heavy cashmere blanket barely pulled up over the swell of her backside. She was cold, the tower off their suite making drafts as others entered and exited. It destroyed the valiant efforts of the fire Damien liked to keep burning. She wasn't cold enough to bear the icy touch that fell across her back and backside with a bold sweep, however, and it shocked her into wakefulness with a gasp. It was one of the meanest tricks in Damien's arsenal that he used to wake her, the chill of his hands prehunt on her naturally hot Lycanthrope skin.

But even as she jerked awake and rolled over to throw off the offending hand, a small clang of warning went off in the back of her head. She knew Damien's touch. She knew it like she knew how to breathe, and this wasn't right somehow. She cranked open her heavy eyelids only half a second before a weighty hand sank into her hair, wrapping it into a fist so tight the sensitive strands cringed and she cried out in pain. A second hand slid over her mouth and she had the violent sensation of being lashed to the bed, hands and feet, until she couldn't move, could barely breathe, and the hold on her hair was forcing her visual range in a single direction only.

Her heart raced in panic. She was helpless. With her hair bound, her Lycanthropic forms were lost to her. In four-point restraints, her fighting abilities were few, if not nonexistent. The only thing she had at her disposal was her young ability to cast illusions...and Damien, wherever he was. She was able to see down to her hand on the right side, shocked to see that it was lashed with some kind of thick mist. In fact, the entire floor was covered with a pea soup fog. It was a phenomenon she had seen her sister's husband perform. As a Wind Demon, Elijah had control over all forms of weather.

It was unlikely he would pull such a heartless stunt. He knew how she felt about being bound and helpless, ever since the Demon Ruth had used Syreena as a means to revenge herself on Siena and Elijah. As she was trying to formulate a logical supposition, she felt the heat of a fetid-smelling breath rushing up over the web of her neck and her throat. Her heart gave a jerk at the scrape of canines over her skin. She had been bitten by Damien more than once, and it had always been an ecstatic experience, but this was such a foul sensation that it made her skin crawl with terror. In the blink of an eye she understood. She knew why this attacker had come.

They wanted what Damien had had. They wanted the power of her blood.

"Such a smart girl," a voice whispered beneath her ear, spilling more of that vile-smelling breath across her senses. "One of the best parts about how easy this was is that you have no telepathy. You cannot even call out to him, can you?" He laughed halfheartedly. "So unfit a mate for our Prince. But to each his own. It matters not any longer. And as much as I would love to play, Princess, we must be going."

Where were the guards? What of Stephan? How was it possible that this enemy was able to get into the citadel, never mind able to put his hands on her?

"Dead, Princess. All dead. And even alive they would not sense us anymore unless we wished them to. Come. Time to go for a little ride."

A frightening sensation flowed over Syreena's flesh, as if she were coming physically unraveled, becoming a part of the mist that entrapped her. There was an explosion, then another, a force of air being blown out briefly, then sucking back with a pop that sent the fog in the room swirling madly. Suddenly she saw powerful legs standing in front of her eyes, and she looked up the length of the body until she could see the face of the Demon King.

He said nothing, only reassuring her with a brief glance before a ball of fire exploded into his hand, a tidy round projectile that held meteoric chaos in its center.

"You will back away from her instantly," he commanded, his voice as cold as the fire in his hand was hot.

Noah was horrified to see the Vampire who was phased half in and half out of a mist form. Either way, he was a breath away from the Princess's exposed throat. Mist was lashing her into paralysis, the Vampire's hand tightly seizing her hair. The Vampire chose a form, returning to a solid state, knowing that Noah could harm him either way if he chose to, but that he could best harm the Princess in his more easily powered form.

I will rip out her throat if you even blink, Demon King.

The telepathic voice rang through Noah's brain gratingly, and it infuriated him that the Vampire would invade him so easily. This was an Old One. One who held pure Vampire power of great maturity. Now more power than ever flushed his paled body as he had farmed abilities from unfortunate others.

To punctuate his point, the Vampire leaned a millimeter closer to Syreena, his canines puncturing her skin just enough to cause two dark trickles of blood to roll slowly down her neck. Syreena's eyes slid closed, an attempt to hide her agonizing fear, useless as two large tears escaped her lids. Noah could practically taste her impotent fury. It swelled with volcanic proportions as she felt the Vampire's tongue sampling her blood, a gift meant only for her mate, tainted with violation now.

For Noah it was like suddenly dancing on the oldest, deepest question within his pained heart. What would he have done if he had been there, in that room, when his mother had first been seized by her murderer? How would he have delivered retribution if her fragile life had hung in the grip of an unbalanced mind? Here fate had dealt him that wished-for hand, and now all he wanted was to wish it away; anything to erase the anguish written across the Princess's features.

"I will deliver you to justice, or I will deliver you to hell," Noah warned one last time, the hoarseness of his voice telling enough to make the Princess open her eyes and look at him with wide, charcoal-gray pupils. To his unending agony, he saw forgiveness flashing in those eyes. Syreena was forgiving him, in case he should fail.

"You cannot touch me," the Vampire swore.

And like that, he vanished, the Princess with him, the fog suddenly dissipating around the King's ankles. He clenched his fist, breaking up and reabsorbing the fireball as he quickly sought for the trick. His mind and thoughts whirled through information and experience. It was like dealing with a half dozen Nightwalkers at once, a powerful and frustrating puzzle. At least with a single breed there came a single expectation, a specific set of rules by which these games must be played. This Vampire and those like him who had chosen to corrupt themselves were maddening wild cards.

Noah sought for energy, somehow certain that what he did not see was a glamour, that both were still in the room in spite of his inability to see them. He saw the imprint of the Princess's body heat on the abandoned bed. He even saw the shadow of the Vampire's energy as he had leaned over her. But these were ghosts of the past, and there were no shades in the present. He searched for heat, for energy, and nothing in the dark room, not even a light, showed power.

Materializing out of the dust, Jacob finally took form across the room from Noah. They had teleported in from opposite sides, Jacob maintaining a dissipated form so he could have the advantage of surprise should the occasion call for it, and also to minimize discomfiture for popping up in the Vampire Prince's boudoir should the situation be a more embarrassing one, albeit one they had hoped for.

Seeing Noah floundering, he knew he needed to relinquish himself to solidity. Noah nodded to the Enforcer, a silent signal, and the Earth Demon closed his eyes, his spirit settling softly into the center of his body, his focus leaving the confines of all things man-made and reaching for the beauty of the natural. He spread this awareness into the room and into the nature around the citadel tower, slowly expanding in radius and intensity.

He suddenly jerked to look at Noah.

"Quick. Light the room. Bright."

Noah reacted without thought, his entire body bursting into flames so blindingly bright that no corner of the room was left dark, forcing Jacob to throw up a shielding hand and to flinch regardless. There was a scream of pain and Jacob and Noah watched as the protection of the shadows was torn away from the Vampire who had now dragged the captive woman to the very edge of a windowsill, only the deeply colored glass preventing his escape. He had been using his stolen Shadowdweller power to become shadow with the Princess in the darkened room. Unfortunately for the devil, it also made light extraordinarily painful to him. He had absorbed the weakness along with the ability. It was a useful piece of information that was taken note of by both Demons.

Noah lit all the torches in the room, dispersing the flames around his body, robbing the Vampire of any further useful shadow. Rows of needle-sharp teeth were lying fully against the skin of Syreena's throat now, as if the Vampire would feed even at the risk of getting caught or losing leverage. His wide eyes shifted warily from one Demon to the other. Noah heard glass cracking as the Vampire leaned his weight against it.

Threats aside, Noah couldn't burn the vile creature while he held Syreena so near. She would be just as badly burned. Unless he was somehow closer to her, he couldn't protect one from flames and destroy the other with them at the same time. His first instinct was to keep the Vampire from gaining the air, from leaving the room, but if they found their way out over the earth, Jacob's abilities would come into play and could make a great deal of difference. The Earth Demon could manipulate gravity, making Syreena far too heavy to lift, but that would only enrage her captor.

Noah felt himself reaching out for the comforting touch of Kestra's thoughts. She was thinking as hard and fast as he and Jacob were, working on even less information than they had, and she had nothing to offer. She settled for sending him supportive thoughts and her confidence that he would prevail.

Jacob, stuck in the same quandary, was examining the enemy more closely, with totally different senses. The Vampire reeked, a stench that Nightwalkers associated with corrupted souls, vile in odor to those with clean spirits. It was a mark of having gone against the natural order of their species, murdering their prey...murdering Nightwalkers for power. Jacob's kind had always been sensitive to this taint. Jacob knew Noah could smell it, and as a hunter, he knew it would make the Vampire easy to track should he escape the room.

A small pane of colored glass popped out of its leaded frame as the Vampire leaned harder and harder against it. The dark colors were meant to block out all light, but now the pane was missing, and the silver wash of the light of the full moon could be seen. Jacob contemplated demolecularization, of either the enemy or the hostage, and knew that without the benefit of touch, the transformation would take too long to prevent any damage the Vampire could do in that brief interim.

Suddenly the Vampire snarled and clamped vicious teeth into the Princess's throat. She screamed behind the hand that bound her mouth. Then, as if she had been planning it, waiting for the necessary moment, she dragged her weight forward just enough to touch the flats of her feet to the floor...and then launched back with all the strength in her willowy frame.

Syreena pushed just hard enough to send their combined weight back into the window, shattering glass and leaded threading and sending herself and the greedy Vampire over the sill and plummeting down toward the rock outcroppings at the base of the citadel. Noah and Jacob burst out of the room after them, rushing to see the Vampire struggle for a minute to keep his prize before realizing it was folly. In a blink he went from Vampire to bird, shocking the Demons with the transformation.

"Mistral," Jacob shouted to his King, and they both understood there had been a murder they hadn't yet heard about. Only a Mistral could change to a bird in such ways, with such speed, excepting the Vampire Prince himself, who had earned the nimble aspect from the blood of his beloved Lycanthrope wife.

Noah broke from Jacob and gave chase to the dark crow that zipped into the cover of the Romanian mountain forests. Jacob speared toward the tumbling Lycanthrope. She streaked too far and too fast ahead of him to be caught, but even as he reached to alter her relationship with gravity, her now-liberated hair streamed out over her skin, finally free to do its natural calling, and she burst into the form of the falcon almost too fast for the Enforcer to perceive. She swooped, defying a craggy death by mere inches, but Jacob knew instantly that her danger was not over. The bird lofted, tumbled, and hit the ground rolling. By the time the tumbling stopped, the Princess was in human form and lay across the shale ground gasping for breath, blood pumping from the gap in her throat.

Jacob landed next to her with a skid of his boots, kneeling quickly to press his hands to her throat in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.

Kestra had been seated before the fire in the Great Hall, feet drawn up under the seat of her bottom. All of her focus was turned inward, helplessly watching Noah struggle to find advantage in an untenable situation. She felt every moment of his agony, the pulse of pain from his memories of his mother throbbing in her throat and belly. It was the first time she'd ever heard those two words enter his thoughts or his actions.

What if...

And she realized how right he was. It was a road best not taken, because all that would lie down that path were endless twists and bends that led nowhere but back upon themselves. He would rather live with the regret of a hasty choice than live with wondering how to change the unchangeable. He knew this because of experience, she now understood, because he had allowed a single what-if to plague him for over two centuries.

Kestra's heart clenched with a terrible fear. Oh, he was too good a man. Too noble. Too wise. Too intelligent. Too easily able to love anyone he deemed worthy. So much personal pain and loss over so many centuries. Making choices that ended lives. The years of futility in search of peace. And yet he loved. How could he bear it? How did he willingly give away pieces of his heart, knowing they could be wrenched away so violently? This, over six centuries of life?

When she hadn't survived two decades with the ability to love intact.

Kes turned her eyes onto the burning flames in the fireplace, letting the glare burn at her retinas and blind her. Destroying this exterior sense drew her back to the dilemma facing Noah. She gasped aloud when glass shattered and bodies fell; she felt the swell of rage in the King of the Demons as he gave chase.

"It did occur to me that there is more Nightwalker blood than remembered by most. So glad am I to see it so readily available."

The voice came from close by, not from her place in Noah's thoughts. She leapt to her feet, instinctively cutting herself off from Noah when he needed to focus on his quarry. It was no different to her than shutting off a microphone to conceal her location.

She was blinded by huge spots of changing color in the center of her vision, an effect of staring too hard into the fire. But she heard the soft slide of a sole on marble, the whuff of an eager breath of triumph, and even the rustle of clothing.

Kestra suddenly realized that they hadn't followed the logic far enough. They hadn't considered a two-pronged assault. They had not realized that there were multiple targets, and she was one of them. But how had rogue Vampires learned of her existence?

"Actually, my dear, it was just happenstance. I was looking for a random target. But a Druid...now, this truly is a prize."

Kes felt the clutch and throttle of her heart hammering beneath her breast as a familiar sensation of helplessness washed through her. Vampires had telepathy. He had a direct line into her soul.

No! She was no victim any longer! That girl had died over a decade ago! She had paid her dues with lack of love and affection, with no one to touch her and no one who would care if she lived or died. She had perfumed herself in gun oil and lived in backwater barracks filled with the most terrifying men on the planet just to prove she didn't fear them and wouldn't fear any again. She'd sacrificed pompoms and proms, girlfriends and love.

And lovemaking.

Lovemaking. A lesson only begun, under large hands that wielded fire in so many ways, yet expressed more tenderness than she could ever truly bear.

No. Nightwalker or no, she would be no one's victim. It was time to put her money where her mouth was. She'd told Noah she knew her enemy, and she would prove it.

"So you have come to lay siege in the castle of the Demon King?" she asked softly, blinking so that her vision would clear more rapidly. "You're ballsy, I'll give you that."

Her adversary laughed, and like radar she used it to home in on him, place and position. Ten feet across the room, northeast, facing slightly away as he perused his surroundings, his voice echoing tellingly into the higher corners of the ceiling.

"Your mind is unusual. It fades in and out of my perception," he mused, as if it were an amusement to him. "You are young, barely fledged," he accused, and by then Kestra could see his handsome pout.

Boyish, slim, and very beautiful, he was an artful deception of looks. However, she could see the avarice in his eyes and knew great strength was hidden in his lean frame. He had hair like silken chocolate, a forelock falling rakishly over his brow. His eyes arrested her, and she was again struck by the lustful greed within them. She was used to that. She'd felt it many times from men of a different kind of power.

She knew this greed.

She cocked a hip, linking her arms behind her back as if she were bound. It was submissive, and it allowed the fullness of her breasts to push tightly into the girlish gingham dress. She paced with him as he moved to peruse Noah's belongings, keeping the same distance between them as he moved and turned, occasionally looking at her as if she were a fascinating dessert on a tray. Whether it was her blood or her sexuality that tempted him, she didn't care. Still, she allowed her hips to sway softly with every step.

"You are not afraid of me," he noted with surprise. "Why is that?"

"Because of who I am," she said, giving a careless shrug. That time she saw his eyes flick to the rise in the hem of her dress as she made the gesture.

"And who are you? Who leaves you here unprotected on a night as dangerous as Samhain?"

"I can protect myself."

He looked at her again, silent, and she imagined he was trying to rifle through her mind for information. His consternation reflected on his face. "What is your power?"

Good question, she mused. She had no idea what her power was or what it would be.

But she thanked him for reminding her of it.

She blanked her mind from his sporadic insights into her thoughts, moving fluidly around the room until she was at Noah's desk. She casually slid onto it, her bottom gliding into the exact spot where Noah had last begun to make love with her. She leaned back on her hands, letting the memory be the only thing guiding her mind as she leaned back on her hands, her fingertips curling softly against a silver letter opener.

"Ah! You are the King's woman!" Her companion chortled with sudden glee as he popped the plum from her mind.

"Yes. Hence my lack of fear." And the reason she'd replayed the memory of their interlude.

"Mmm, true...you must have great power to be the woman of the Demon King."

Kestra crossed her legs, her skirt riding up along with the corners of her lips. He was coming closer to her, and she was thinking of anything other than what she would do next.

Noah chased the twice-cursed crow as a ball of pure flame, a meteor streaking through the sky, scorching tree braches and anything else that got in his way. He was going to burn the bastard's feathers off one by one. He was going to stick a spit right up the middle of his miserable carcass and light the roasting fire himself. The midday sun would seem balmy compared to the fire of his fury.

Within minutes he was toying with the frantically flying Vampire, literally hot on his tail. There was no escaping him now. He would burn all the woodlands in a heartbeat if need be.

The Vampire seemed to grasp that he was defeated in his stolen Mistral form, and with a clumsy change to his natural form, he crashed to the snow and leaf debris in amongst the ever-present bits of shale broken from the Romanian mountain. The fiend of fire that was the Demon King landed with the utmost speed and grace as a wall of flame caged them both in a perimeter so tight that the Vampire cried out and hurried toward the furious King in a last effort to escape its heat.

"Please! Do not kill me! I have...I have information!"

Noah's flame-coated hands lowered to his sides, burning the entire while, and like any flames they attracted the Vampire's attention.

"I have all the information I need," Noah said carelessly. He raised his immolating hands.

"No! You do not! If you did, you would not be here! You would be protecting your home!"

The panicked remark sent a chill through the Demon King like nothing else could, powerful enough to quench all the incendiary ability in his body and soul.

"Speak," he said hoarsely. Then a violent roar. "Quickly!"

Even as he made the command he sought for Kestra, suddenly realizing she had left him. How could he not have noticed? Had his thirst for vengeance so blinded him to her? Had she called for his help, his volatile need to satisfy his rages suffocating the breath of her cries for him?

"My brother infiltrates your castle even as I infiltrated Damien's. He sought you, great King. A worthy adversary. He did not expect you to come to Damien's aid yourself."

"Fool!" Noah spat the word, unsure who he aimed it at. "It was what was intended all along! You fool!"

The woodland exploded in outraged flame.

Jacob hit the deck, barely in time to cover the Princess as a wave of flame roiled out of the tree line just far enough above their heads to keep his hair mostly unsinged. He had felt that one coming, and after it passed he flung his head up to try to see why such a display had occurred. Sweat flew from his hair as he rose onto his knees, straddling the Princess protectively. His hand still plugged her wounds, though Noah had almost cauterized the bloody thing just a moment ago. The Earth Demon could see nothing, feel nothing except the earth as he absorbed the screams of the natural life all around him. Noah's abuse had caused great damage to flora and fauna alike, and Jacob was impacted enough to feel a fury toward Noah he had never felt before.

He whipped his head around, sending another spray of perspiration arcing out like a liquid halo as he searched amongst the lightly toasted scrub for what he wanted. His black eyes fastened on a promising plant and Jacob called it to himself instantly, forcing it to ride a rippling wave of earth so he did not have to leave his position.

The natural coagulants in the roots of the plant would help save Syreena's life. He shoved several in his mouth, chewing the dirty bulbs until the juice broke free of the roots. He spat the dubious salve into his hand, then spat again to rid his mouth of the foul taste that remained even as he smeared the concoction over the gaping flesh of Syreena's throat. How she would survive such a wound was beyond his comprehension. Even now he was watching her eyes slip closed with increasing frequency.

"Syreena, do not close your eyes. If you succumb, Damien will never survive. Come!" He slapped her face, making her jerk back to consciousness. She tried to speak, but could not, her damaged throat refusing to work. But by the fire in her eyes, he guessed she would have cursed him pretty efficiently had she the voice. Over the centuries of the war between their peoples, some pretty fine epithets had arisen from the lips of Lycanthropes in regard to Demons, and the reverse was also true. "Yes, yes, I know," he sighed, "I am the foul son of a hunchbacked Demon whore."

His self-deprecating humor made her laugh, another step toward consciousness despite being little more than a wheezing breath and a sparkle in her eyes.

"Strange, I was just about to say the same thing," a deep voice mused. "Enforcer, would you mind telling me why you are lying over my naked wife?"