Johnny pointed at the indentation in the paneling. "If you don't answer me, we're gonna find out what it takes to put you all the way through."

She sneered at him. "You wouldn't dare."

He didn't even hesitate.

He grabbed her, lifted her, and the first thrust broke through the paneling and cracked the structure's framing beneath. The second sent Aurelia and various bits of wood, insulation, and siding across the yard.

Johnny exited by the door. As he stepped onto the grass, Aurelia began to laugh. She slowly picked herself up. "The Rege did far worse to me for lesser reasons. It'll take more than throwing me through walls to make me talk." The wind tossed her hair about and she tore off her jacket and threw it down as if ready for a fight. She held her long hair out of her face. "C'mon, John. Put your hands on me again."

The copper-sweet tang of blood filled Johnny's nostrils. A quick scan revealed a gash on her forearm. She seemed unaware of it. Still, his mouth watered. "I'm not the Rege." He'd heard the sadistic bastard had tormented her in many ways; she'd risen through the ranks because she was not only worthy, but she didn't break under the damage he dished out.

"You're not so different. I could always feel his beast. I could feel it rouse, feel it yearning for things. I felt your beast as I got close to the trailer." She laughed softly again. "You're on the edge." She wiped her hand over the wound, covering it with blood. Then she rubbed her hands together and waved them in the air between them. "Lust. Anger. Violence. And now . . . blood."

Fresh and warm, the blood glistened wet on her fingers. The building breeze wrapped the scent around him, swathing him in heaviness that weakened his knees. Penetrating that scent was another: the heady aroma of her arousal. That perfume of her sex reached through the blood-scent cloaking him and, like a silken lining, slid cool and smooth against his flesh.

Its touch was light, but far from subtle. It breached his skin like a sigh passing through a screen. Once underneath, it warmed as it passed over each sinew, each muscle, stroking and saturating his body with a savage craving previously unknown to him.

Aurelia's pouty lips curved as she stepped out of her dress shoes. "Touch me, John. If you can." She turned and ran.

Unable to resist chasing her, wanting that scent, that sensation, to remain, he kicked off his slick-soled shoes and followed.

She ran into the cornfield, avoiding the grove. It wasn't long before her bare feet were bloodied, and he could smell each drop as the air lifted the fragrance to his nostrils.

The transformation stirred within him, fiercer with each step. He'd been outpacing her, but as he threw off his clothing, pausing desperate seconds here and there for the removal of each article, she increased the distance between them. When he was fully naked, he let the change claim him. In fact, he welcomed it-certain that he could cover the ground quicker on four legs.

With a howl that split the night, he was complete and raced into the dark.

His nose was more efficient like this. All the smells that had enticed him mingled into a mesmerizing medley. His pricked ears were also better. The sound of vegetation crunching under Aurelia's hurried steps and her panting breaths thrilled him, urged him on.

His paw touched fabric instead of earth. Her skirt.

Seconds later, something thinner. His nails punctured it. Her blouse.

She's naked.

The animal's yearning redoubled, and with a rumbling growl, so did his speed.

Gaining with each leaping stride, he was soon right behind her, so close that he licked the bloody sole of her foot in the millisecond it was revealed in her step. She gasped and stumbled.

The flavor of her blood rocked him. It hit his tongue and many things happened at once.

He saw her fall and leapt, thinking to catch her.

His transformation began reverting.

And he wondered if Persephone's blood tasted this good to Menessos.

He sprang forward, and when his body was parallel to hers, he reached human arms down and encircled her waist, twisting so it was his back that crashed to the ground and not her front.

The air was knocked from his lungs by the impact, and again when her body collided atop his.

Aurelia sat up, straddling him.

The erotic sensation of touching a female waere ran through him, interfering with his recovery. He reached out, tried to sit up. "No. Stay flat." She took his hands in her own and lowered them to her thighs. "Just breathe. A little deeper with each breath."

Under a starry sky that was slowly being shrouded by the cloud cover steered in by the wind, he struggled to make his lungs work normally. With each inhalation, it seemed, he could bring the oxygen in a little deeper. He found a rhythm in it. The breaths were so shallow it was a quick rhythm, but a rhythm nonetheless.

Aurelia danced seductively to his rhythm. With each of his inhalations, her thighs flexed under his hands and her buttocks lifted off him as she tilted her hips to rub herself along his cock. It made her lean slightly, but the speed made her breasts sway enticingly. As he exhaled she reversed the motion.

As he picked up on the pattern, he reclaimed control of his body. Well, part of it. She-and the tickling arousal-were working in conjunction and having a definite influence he could not resist. He purposely made his next exhale as long and slow as he could manage, reveling in the fantastic feeling of her sex sliding along his growing erection.

Breathing in the melange of fragrances, staring into her wanton eyes, and feeling the strength of her thighs, he tightened his fingers on her slightly. She had timed his deep breath perfectly and positioned herself at the tip of him, ready to take what she wanted as he exhaled.

But the scent of blood again filled his nostrils . . . and his thought of Persephone and Menessos recurred.

So he held his breath.

She giggled, waiting. Her eyes sparkled.

"No," he whispered. Johnny bent his knees, bumping her slightly forward and effectively keeping her off his cock.

"What?" The glint in her eyes darkened.

She pitched forward, hands punching down onto the ground on either side of his head. She arched her back, and let her breasts sway close to his mouth. "Don't fight me anymore." Her hips gyrated as she pleaded.

"How do you know about my son?"

She stilled for an instant, then she shifted her weight and sat up, running her hands-tacky with drying blood-over his chest.

"There's a bug in your key fob."

His thoughts swirled as he thought back over the past few days, over what conversations he'd had concerning Evan. He realized his entire trip as he drove Toni back to upstate New York had been overheard. Then another thought occurred to him. "Who else can hear the feed from it?"

"Only me."

"So who else knows?"

"No one."

He wondered if he believed any of that. "Get off me." When she didn't immediately move, he added, "Don't make me tell you twice."

She unstraddled him and sat on her haunches to the side, but reached to fondle his cock. He rolled away from her and stood. "John."

He started walking back the way they had come.

"John." Her tone was pitiful.

He stopped. Over his shoulder he said, "No, Aurelia. I know you've fought for rank. I know you've groomed yourself to be on the arm of a powerful waere. But it won't be mine." He transformed again and loped swiftly away.

He collected his clothes, reversed the transformation, and returned to the trailer. Ignoring Celia and Mountain, who were nailing a piece of plywood over the hole in the trailer, Johnny wordlessly started dismantling his key fob under the kitchen lights.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Giovanni turned his cell phone over and over in his hand, thinking about what he had heard. The phones he had given to Liyliy were all linked to his own. She might understand the devices of this modern age that she had been suddenly thrust into, but he was counting on her not understanding how they could be manipulated. Or bugged.

He couldn't trust her completely; she had the ability to use magic and he did not. He had knowledge and connections that she needed. He was a tool.

These phones, however, would allow him to hear what she and her sisters discussed and what news they delivered. What Liyliy shared with him would then tell him much about whether or not he should put any trust in her at all.

He had not exactly anticipated that they would call others on these phones. They had read the minds of several people by now and had learned phone numbers.

He had heard Ailo say, "What you seek will be found beside the ley line at Mill Stream Run Reservation, but only if you hurry."

Mill Stream Run Reservation.

With his smartphone he'd checked the whereabouts of this location; it was too far for Adam, his driver, to get them there swiftly. He'd have the man check it out tomorrow during the day. Giovanni had to hope the sisters would call each other and discuss this in more detail. He wondered who they had sent to this place; he had not recognized the woman's voice by her single word: "Hello."

Following the method Menessos had used in binding the sisters, Mero decided he must empower a choker with which to bind Liyliy. As he prepared, he'd demanded that a guard contact any woman in the haven who owned a choker and have her bring the jewelry to him for inspection.

Only one woman had come: Risque.

She dropped a leather bondage-style choker on the altar before him. There was a small lock on the front closure of it, which was presently open. "Don't ask." She put the key into his hand, turned on her heel, and left.

He grinned. It was perfect.

But.

This would be a feat similar to a mouse belling a cat.

He didn't actually want to get close to Liyliy. If she touched him, she could invoke a reading of him. Not only could she immobilize him-or worse, slay him-by such means, but she might learn that his connection to the Excelsior ran deeper than their formal titles. He had many secrets he wished to keep from her, but that one was the most dangerous for Deric.

Liyliy left her sisters in the room and entered the hall, faking the limp she'd had before. There were two guards outside the door and, as she walked away from them, one called, "Allow us to escort you."

She turned and waited for them to join her. When they neared, she grabbed each man's arm and, pulling recent memories from their minds, had them on their knees. The memories were of generic haven-living experiences, but in reading the two of them at once the thoughts and images had melded together. They slammed painfully into her mind as a strange mix of deja vu and double vision. She jerked her hands free and stepped back even as she gripped them by the hair and knocked their skulls together.

Confident they would not be following, she hurried from the hall-remembering to limp at the last. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, she awkwardly climbed up the staircase. Moving was much easier with her sisters' healing, but letting those here think her handicapped gave her the option of surprising them with quick action. Being underestimated might be her only means to rescue.

The hallway on the ground level was empty. She hesitated, holding the banister. In case anyone was watching, she panted as if out of breath.

It's too easy.

With extreme control, she progressed toward the main entry with a shambling gait. When she rounded the old ticket booth and had a clear view ahead, she detected a man's outline against the boards that covered the doors.

"Where is the necklace?"

It was Mero's voice.

She laughed but limped onward, keeping the wariness she felt from showing.

"Liyliy."

"You will never find it," she hissed. Ten feet from him she stopped and put her hands on her hips. "What have you come to try to replace it with?"

"Stay here, Liyliy. Let us work together to heal those scars."

Through gritted teeth she said, "They suit me."

"No, Liyliy. Your beauty suited you. It can be regained." He extended his hand toward her.

Tempted for an instant, she searched his eyes. Not counting all the centuries she had been encased in stone, she had never been able to trust what she saw in anyone's expression. She never trusted their words, only what she saw when she read someone was real, because she knew only that was true.

Even her sisters, who had always been honest with her, she could not believe unless she confirmed it with a reading touch.

But there was pity in Mero's eyes and she knew it was not fraudulent. He eased a step toward her.

Fool! That is what you want to see!

He was your downfall. You wanted to see him, to feel his arms around your body . . . you snuck away, certain that your beauty would win him over.

But your sisters followed you. All three of you were lured to your doom because you wanted him.

And all he felt for you was fear-fear so deep he let his Maker bind you into stone. Your sisters warned you. Everyone saw that truth but you. You hadn't touched him.

You'd forgotten how to read people with your own eyes.

Your sisters hadn't; they knew what was happening. They knew your heart was warming for someone . . . someone oblivious to your fixation on him. They knew it would break your trio apart.

Menessos had mastered the art of reading people. He knew what you were feeling for Mero. He used it against you.

"Did you send your messenger boy to fetch me?"

Mero's hand dropped down. Confusion, distraction marred his features. "What?"

"The night my sisters and I were bound in stone. Your messenger came to me."

He shook his head. "Liyliy. I never had a messenger boy."