"And taking advantage of her heat cycle so we can try to get pregnant," she finished for him with relief. "Damien, I have waited so long to begin a family. If you left during my heat, I don't think I could bear the loneliness and knowing that every day you are gone will be an opportunity wasted. We have talked of nothing else for the past three months, ever since we decided we were ready for it...and that it would be the best thing we could do to bring our disparate backgrounds together. Perhaps, if you have an heir with me, the Vampires will stop all this infighting and will finally begin to accept the choice you made in me."

"Sweetheart, we have talked about this," he scolded her gently, running a broad, graceful hand down the length of her wet hair. "We will do this for us, and for us alone. As with our wedding, it is their duty to adapt to us. Those who do not adapt, those who think to fight me-let them come if they dare."

"Damien," she breathed nervously, sweeping her fingers into his hair and holding him in place for her mouth and its desperate kiss.

He knew her fears too well for words. Even without his telepathy, he had come to know her nearly better than he knew himself. She was more emotional than she normally would be, more fearful as her mating cycle rapidly approached and more of their impending future was put up for scrutiny.

Syreena had two mating cycles every year. Spring and fall, close to the full moon at Beltane and the one at Samhain. These short weeks every year were the only time she could conceive, no matter how frequently they made love at any other time. Last spring had been an experience unlike anything Damien had encountered in his long lifetime of dealing with women. She had been aggressive and insatiable. She had taunted him and teased him and used him to exhaustion almost every minute of the day from the beginning to the end of the cycle.

They hadn't truly decided whether or not they were ready for children before last spring's cycle had struck her, but once it had hit, they hadn't even been able to make an effort at caution or control.

In spite of their recklessness, however, Syreena hadn't conceived.

She had been devastated. It should have been impossible for her to fail to conceive. She'd never heard of a heat cycle not producing a child automatically, in the absence of actions or chemistry to prevent it. So her automatic assumptions began to fall into two categories: first, that something was wrong with her; second, and perhaps the worst of all, that a Vampire and a Lycanthrope couldn't conceive a child. Though there were hints in ancient writings that it was possible, there was no known written or living proof of it. Still, it was illogical for her to blame herself. The Vampire conception rate was notoriously low to begin with.

Regardless, if he was forced to leave her alone for the next cycle in order to take care of business at the Demon court, she would suffer a great deal, and very likely would be impossible to live with. If he thought the atmosphere in his home was hostile now...after three weeks with Syreena on a hormonal bender, in amongst a gathering of Vampires who disapproved of her to start with, there would be a lot of ramifications to deal with.

Neither could they leave together. Stephan and Jasmine could capably protect their holdings, but with the current civil unrest, it would be unwise for both of them to leave the homeland castle unattended. The more he thought on it, the more sending Jasmine seemed like the best solution for everyone. Of course, it would no doubt look like Damien was catering to his bride, an act that many of his species would look on as a weakness.

But Damien didn't care about appearances in this particular situation. He could never leave Syreena to cope with such a painful struggle when his mere presence could prevent it. Apparently she didn't realize that, or else she wouldn't have climbed the tower after hearing him discuss traveling to Noah's court. He would maintain patience, however. She was learning, just as he was, and it did no good for either of them to lose their tolerance for the other's misunderstandings.

For the present, she was catching a good case of the shivers and would be better off inside the citadel walls. He swept her up into his embrace easily just as his feet lifted from the ground. He flew them up to the very same window she had dived from earlier, leading her inside so she could warm up and rest with him as the dawn made its imminent approach.

When the Demon King entered the Council chamber a short time later, a hush fell over the Elders gathered about the triangular table. Noah stood for a moment, assessing the energy of the room. Gossip among Demons, he noted, was one of the fastest-flying creatures in all the world. He had no doubt that everyone around him was at least partially aware of what had so recently transpired.

He didn't hold still long, determined not to be read as reluctant to face his peers. He moved to the large chair at one of the three points of the table that marked its highest-ranking members. The other two points were occupied by his sister's husband, Gideon, who was the only Ancient of their kind, and Jacob, the Enforcer, who reached to cover the small hand of his wife seated next to him.

"I have called this Council meeting with one purpose only," he said directly, his deep voice filling the stone room and ringing back to him from the vaulted ceiling. "It is time we altered Demon law, Councillors, to suit the vast changes our society has undergone since the first Druid was discovered and accepted into our culture." He did not look at Isabella as he referred to her, the act too hard for him in that glaring moment. He would face that reckoning later, when there were not so many witnesses. "I have watched the centuries fall by just as many of you have, and we all know too well the price we pay every Samhain and Beltane because it is stamped on our genes that it be so.

"I have glorified myself in the past as a scholar dedicated to finding a solution to the cruel pressures we endure during those Hallowed moons." Noah paused to lay a hand on the smooth wooden surface of the Council table, leaning forward so he could meet all the attention focused on him. "Many of us have cried out with suffrage, cried foul when the Enforcer put us to the screws, and simply cried because sometimes the agony is just too much for a soul to bear." The Demon King straightened as the slap of his hand on the table resounded in the room.

"I tell you now I feel nothing but shame toward myself, toward us all, for enjoying the role of the victim too well. We have had three years in which to initiate changes and have barely made efforts to do so. If you think it is my recent transgression that makes me say this, you would be right. But even before that incident, the Druid Corrine had begun to open my eyes to our indolence.

"It comes to this: We have the means to put an end to this tragedy, and I am determined to make it the law to do so. As it stands now, the Enforcers are a necessary evil and they are vilified for representing the possibility of what we might become. That begins to end this very moment." Noah heard Isabella make a surprised sound, the squeak catching in her throat, and his mouth turned up at one corner as he looked directly at her. "The law is as I speak it now. Every unmated member of Demon society who is of Elder age will utilize Corrine's skills to find the Druid mate that is to be Imprinted upon them. Only this will cure our culture of its madness, and so it will be done. In the future I will expand the law to include adults. Of course, all are free to do so at any time or age if they wish it. The only reason I do not make it universally mandatory is because I do not wish to overtax our Druid, who will hereby be referred to as our Matchmaker. It takes much effort, I realize now, to be a living divining rod."

He paused to take a slow, calming breath.

"I once said that Isabella would be the first note in the call to save us from ourselves. I realize now that, as she is the note, her sister is the symphony. It is the responsibility of every member of this Council to set an example by being among the first to approach the Matchmaker in this matter."

The silence broke at last, nearly the entire table erupting in protest both large and small.

"Noah, you cannot do this," the Body Demon Peter protested, his chair scraping back loudly as he jumped up. "You have no right to command us to do something that should be a personal freedom for every living creature in the world. No intellectual being should be forced to find a mate!"

"Every being is forced to find a mate," Noah countered sharply, the bite of his retort like a slap in the face. "You have never crossed that maddening line, Peter, so you do not know what I mean. Let me assure you that every creature of the world is stamped with the drive to find perfection in companionship. It is encoded in every fiber of our beings. It is because we have taken the unnatural course of solitude that Demons are being forced by nature, by these Hallowed moons and their madness, to follow our internal compass toward our intended partners no matter what the cost.

"Believe me, Peter, you do not want to pay the price I have paid. I walked this world so desensitized to the needs of my soul and my body that I failed my most perfect Destiny and dispatched my mate to her death. I refuse to see that happen to another of us. I am ruler of this race, and I will force this dictate upon you. And as with any law, those who do not obey will face my Enforcers. I will press the matter with severe ramifications that will far outweigh the penalty that already exists. A punishment I must now suffer that will add to a pain that if I could share it-" He broke off, swallowing visibly but refusing to break contact with the dozen pairs of eyes watching him with bated breath. "I could pardon myself from this if I wished, but what kind of leader would I be if I did not expect myself to follow the laws I set down for all others?"

"Noah, no one here expects you to suffer the humiliation of-"

"Please," the King cut in, his voice hoarse and pained. "Those of you here who call themselves my friends will not tempt me any further on this matter. Jacob and Isabella will see I am justly served for my transgression. To be quite frank, no one deserves the right more than they do. This meeting is adjourned."

There was no more argument and, mercifully, not even a sound of debate or speculation. Noah turned from the table and crossed back to the door. He halted before going through it to turn slightly back to those behind him.

"Bella, Jacob...you will attend me."

The King closed his eyes when, after a moment's pause, he heard the sound of two chairs pushing back across the marble floor. He finally crossed the threshold, refusing himself any urges he had to look back.

"Noah, I beg you to reconsider," Jacob argued quietly after the last Council member had left them alone in the Great Hall of Noah's castle.

As he pressed his monarch, Jacob observed his unusually subdued wife out of the corner of his eye, trying to get a bead on her thoughts and feelings. She was shutting him out with exceptional strength, however, shunting him away from their telepathic connection. It was a level of ability he had not realized she had. Even so, it was completely lost on him why she would decide to use it against him in that sensitive and crucial moment. He could have used her input, support, or feedback. Whichever she was willing to offer up.

He continued watching as his wife moved in one direction while Noah moved in the other to stand closer to the fire.

"Jacob, it is your duty to not only uphold the law, but to hold those who break it accountable. I am not an exception to that rule and, as I have already stated, I will not hear argument otherwise."

"You will hear it," Jacob said sharply, advancing on his sovereign. "I have been your Enforcer for four centuries, and no one knows better than I how and when to enforce the law. The reprimand you are seeking for yourself is intended to sway future weakness from occurring. It is designed to halt the temptation toward innocents who would fall victim to the potential danger of a Demon out of control. This edict was never meant to reprove those who are striving only to seize their one true mate in life. Especially when taking into consideration that once you do become mated to that person, there is no longer any threat of this insanity overtaking you. By our very own laws and traditions, you have the right to claim what you have claimed. Laws that I helped you draw up, I might add."

"No one has the right to do so in a way that endangers the innocents around them," Noah bit back.

"Then consider Kestra if you will not consider yourself," Jacob said grimly, his voice echoing in the stone room. "If you undergo standard procedures, you will be left physically and emotionally devastated. To penalize yourself would mean punishing this innocent. She is becoming a Druid now. You know what that means. She will need to feed off your energy. She needs your full strength if she is to survive such a taxing alteration of her genetic code and physical being. None of us knows what this might do to her, to you both, if you persist on this path."

"No," Noah murmured. "No. I cannot walk away from this without being answerable for my actions. If not standard punishment, then you must devise something in its stead. I demand your compliance in this, Jacob."

"Very well."

Both men looked up when Bella finally spoke, her soft voice-usually so full of her vibrancy and humor-wintry and dead as it fell on them. She had her arms folded tightly around her midriff as she advanced on the Demon King, the bite of her step a warning come too late to her husband.

"I will punish you," she hissed at the Demon King, her hand suddenly flying at Noah's face and striking him so hard that the slap reverberated through Jacob's very bones. He could only imagine how it had felt, knowing how powerful Bella was in spite of her compact appearance. But as Noah recoiled from the surprise of the blow, the male Enforcer knew the psychology behind the strike was what would cut to the quick.

"You are never to go near my child again! Do you understand?" Isabella gritted the dictate through clenched teeth, her full fury and outrage finally, after all these hours, taking aim at their first solid target. It was a brutal, tangible thing. "Never! You will not even look at her! Do you hear me? I trusted you! Trusted you with her life and her safety like I would never have trusted anyone else, and you betrayed me! You betrayed her and used her for a wild experiment that could have-" Bella choked on her emotion, her tears finally spilling as she fought for her voice. "How could you do that? How could you put my baby in such horrific danger? She loves you! I loved you!"

She raised her hand to strike the stunned King again, but her husband caught her by the wrist and halted the forward-flying motion of her body. Noah turned away from them both, reaching out to steady himself against the stone of the fireplace as the Enforcer enfolded his violent wife into the unyielding frame of his body.

"Enough," Jacob whispered into her black satin hair as he pressed his mouth to the ear hidden beneath. "Enough, my love."

"It will never be enough," Bella rasped hoarsely. "I will never forgive you for this, Noah! When I think of all the things that could have gone wrong, it makes me want to scream! I had to stand there and sweet-talk and coddle you while my baby and my sister sat huddled in a corner, beside themselves with terror! You make me sick!"

His mate was screaming so violently by then that it did not surprise Jacob when Gideon's hand appeared out of nowhere and touched Isabella's shoulder. The Ancient medic did not give her any opportunity to fight him, even if she could manage her power enough to attempt to drain his abilities. As hysterical as she was with the emotion that only a mother in defense of her child was capable of, she would never have been able to concentrate.

So Gideon sent the chemistry of her body careening out of balance, tricking it into thinking it was desperate for slumber. The sleep command hit her like a ton of bricks and Isabella collapsed against Jacob mid-accusation. Jacob felt Magdelegna brush past him, hurrying to her brother's side with the ready compassion that was so much a part of her nature.

Noah felt her touch and shrugged her off so hard that she stumbled back several precarious steps.

"Do not comfort me, Legna! Just stay away from me!" he growled savagely. "Leave! All of you. Your duties are finished here."

Noah finalized the order by snapping into a vicious flurry of flame that burned hard and brilliantly, making them all flinch and protect their eyes.

When their vision cleared, the King was gone.

Chapter 7.

Kestra woke the next evening with a sigh.

Her clear blue eyes flickered open halfway, and beneath her she felt soft sheets and the plush down of a feather bed. She made an irresistible sound of pleasure. The pillows and the comforter that spread over her were all made of the same incredible softness that could only be down. It was, she began to realize, the very first night in months that she had slept through. There had been no dreams of a shadowy, arrogant lover tormenting her relentlessly with his teasing and touching, wakening her in a sweat.

She rolled over, looking up at the sheer white fabric that crisscrossed the canopy of the enormous bed, the center of the X anchored into the ceiling that was far above the actual posters of the bed itself. Dim light was streaming in from nearly all sides, but it was all muted, silvery colors, speckling patterns over the ceiling, the bed curtains, and the long canopy. Her eyes flicked through the dark to the source, finding two banks of windows on the connecting corner walls, all of which were stained glass. Most of them were a random collection of shapes and colors seemingly dashed together haphazardly on the window glass. A couple of the others had intricate, more defined designs, beautiful motifs in colored glass of a forest and another of a village of cottages.

Kestra put her hands on the mattress and began to slide herself upright so she could better view her surroundings, trying to shed the haze of sleep enough that she could remember what country she was in and what hotel would have such a fabulous old room.

She froze midmovement, however, when she caught sight of a wing chair drawn up close to the edge of her bed, facing her as if someone had been observing her for long hours. She quickly scanned the room, taking note of every dancing shadow created by the fire roaring in the fireplace nestled in a corner of the room. She was struck by the inescapable feeling that someone was there, watching her, even though she saw nothing at all in the shadows.

The mystery ended abruptly. The person made a distinct movement, making her suddenly aware of his location and imposing, half-lit silhouette. Kestra's knee-jerk reaction was one of hostility and defensiveness and she quickly worked up a threat, the words readily bubbling up to her lips.

And there they froze.

As he turned his head slightly and she felt him assessing her even through the dark and shadows, she was flooded with memory, instinct, and emotion all at once. She opened her mouth but couldn't speak. Information and questions overloaded all the nerve conduits in her brain.

Noah said nothing; the only sound in the enormous room was the snap of the fire and her rapidly pitched breathing. He turned his eyes away from her after a painful moment. He had moved away from her only moments before she had awakened, his abilities warning him about the changes in her wakening energy. Before that cautious removal, however, he had steadily occupied the chair she had noticed.

He'd sat in it, watching her every breath and trying for all he was worth to reconcile all the emotions churning in his heart, as well as the thoughts and memories plaguing his mind. Noah had said nothing to anyone about how he'd experienced his first live meeting with Kestra. Besides himself and his intended mate, only Corrine had witnessed it.

How had Kestra come to be in such a situation? Who was she? Why would a human female, seemingly without power, ever put herself in such danger? She knew how to fight, clearly knew how to use a weapon, and showed a remarkable lack of fear for a mortal being, but...

What was it she had been doing that had apparently been worth dying for? Did she have any idea how close she'd come to death? That if not for him, death would have claimed her a second or two later? He'd seen it, the picture of it flashing violently in his memory, still terrifying him even though it was over and no longer a threat to her safety and her life. She was safe. Within his reach. Here.

At last.

He should say something to her, he knew, but found he couldn't think of a single word that would be appropriate for such an extraordinary situation. If what he'd intruded upon at his arrival was a commonplace occurrence in her life, it was no wonder she'd fought him so frantically in their dreams. How could a woman who lived so dangerous a lifestyle ever trust anyone? He laughed in his own head over the irony. He'd been high-handed and arrogant, always pushing to get his way, and it seemed he was going to be rewarded for that on many bitter levels. He'd wasted time playing games and struggling with her for the power of the dreams they shared. Now she was here, lying in his bed, looking at him with suspicious eyes, and he realized for the first time that he'd squandered a hundred chances to make this so much easier. If only he'd acknowledged the importance of the dreams months ago, perhaps she would not be looking at him in such a hostile manner.

Now that she was there, what did she think of him in reality?

He could easily imagine the answer to that.

The devastating pain of Isabella's wounded hatred had been more than enough karmic justice to glut him with guilt, and the King didn't think he could face any more recriminations from this woman who was supposed to be the most precious gift he'd ever receive.

However, he was also unaccustomed to behavior that reflected a certain level of fear or even cowardice, so he was compelled to move forward if only to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid to meet his fate, whatever it turned out to be. He moved through light and shadow until he reached the back of the chair he'd occupied for the past twelve hours or so, keeping as close to her as he could, feeding her body with his energy as she fed his emaciated soul with her mere presence and closeness.

As he neared her, rounding the chair, he fell within the range of the lone candle sitting on the bedside table. As the light fell over his height and his features for the first time, Kestra made a startled sound. Noah's eyes darted quickly to hers, the wide pools of startling blue ice reflecting her shock and trepidation. Her breathing doubled in speed and he could sense all the energy of her body focusing and coiling into the reflexes of her muscles, readying her to spring away from him should the need arise. Otherwise, she sat perfectly still, her eyes never even blinking as she kept them on him.

Slowly, Noah continued to take his seat. He leaned back, remaining relaxed in appearance somehow, in spite of the surges of emotion twisting within his stomach and psyche.

He'd never expected her to be as breathtakingly beautiful as she was. It had barely crossed his mind, he realized, except when it came to the sight and feel of her hair. Long, sugar-white, pin-straight, and sheeting thickly to the middle of her back, her wispy bangs the only curve it could lay claim to. Braided as it was, it was pulled back high and tight, still as neat as it had been from the start, in spite of her having slept on it for so long.

If possible, her eye color was even more remarkable than her hair. Her pupils were an astonishing light blue, almost like very lightly tinted glass, faceted like diamonds with outstanding luster. White lashes and blond brows lent eerily beautiful accent to her penetrating gaze. She had a truly gorgeous face, with flawless skin, softly defined cheekbones, and a mouth that looked twice as luscious as it had felt when they had kissed in their dreams. Perhaps it was the inviting pink innocence of their color that made him think so.

The longer he sat in silence, making no moves or declarations to satisfy whatever curiosities she must be full of, the more she allowed her muscles to relax. She slid up against the headboard very slowly, until her shoulder was situated securely against it and she was fully facing him. Noah recognized what she was doing. She was guarding her back. Leaning up against the headboard, she could feel a little more comfortable about keeping her focus on him.

He supposed that, to her, he was no more or less dangerous than the men who had succeeded in killing her a week ago.

"I think you better tell me who you are and why you were in Sands's penthouse. Are you some kind of cop?"

"Why would you think that?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know. I didn't hear you come in, so I figure you were already there. Since you didn't seem to like the bad guys, I figured you were working undercover and had to...well, if you're a cop, you couldn't just sit there and let them kill me."

"Excellent logic," he said.

"Ah!"

"But I am not a cop."

"Oh." She squinted at him with apparent confusion. "Do I have to ask twenty questions or are you going to explain this?"

"I see you do not recognize me," he remarked carefully. "I told you I needed to find you."

That gave her pause and she tensed tightly against the headboard. Kestra's eyes moved over him with amazing scrutiny as she tried to figure out why she should know him. She never forgot a face. Considering the multitude of people she encountered in her travels, that was truly saying something. But she was positive she'd never laid eyes on him in all her life. She would remember a face like that: dark and tanned, serious, yet clearly prone to amusement and laughter when the crinkles near the corners of his eyes were taken into account.

All that aside, people of power and confidence always made an impressive mark on her. Even sitting in the soft light of the candle and stray beams of color that broke through the windows, she could see and sense that he was a formidable man. Power. A position of some importance somehow in the world. A leader. Something about all she'd seen so far told her he was capable of conquest. He had certainly shown no hesitation or fear when he'd come to her aid.

Damn if that didn't bite her butt. She wasn't exactly the type of woman who enjoyed playing the helpless blonde while Mr. Savior came to rescue her. It was a bad impression to make at the outset. There was something about him, though. Beyond all the rest, she felt as though he was right on the mark. She did know him from somewhere.

His voice.

More importantly, his accent. Deep, resonant, a careful enunciation of certain consonants, and the tendency of foreigners to avoid contractions. Kestra felt her chest constrict suddenly as all her blood threatened to rush out of her brain.

"Eurotrash."

The breathy identification made him laugh, a rough bark of humor that made her sudden recognition take a leap forward.

"That...this is..." she stammered. "No. No, no, no, no, no! This is bullshit!"

He was a dream. Only a dream! What was worse, he was acting as if he knew all about those dreams! As if he had truly been there all those times when she had...when they had...

Kestra put both hands to her temples, squeezing her head hard as if it would pop her rampant imagination out of her brain. Then she jumped out of the enormous bed, taking to the floor on the opposite side from where he sat, pacing frantically across the slightly chilled floorboards. She saw him rise to his feet out of the corner of her eye and she instinctively stepped two feet farther from him, continuing her short, agitated circuit of steps.

"You're not going to make me believe you're some sort of dream that poofed to life. I'm not a child and I don't believe in fairy stories anymore!"

"You once believed in fairy stories?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Never mind that!" Kestra snapped. "Tell me what's going on here, or I swear I'll...I'll..."