"Because, kiri, you can't do what these men can," Jule scolded. "And D doesn't have any other brothers for you to rescue. You know that's the only reason you're not locked in your room for the rest of your life."

"No worries," Damian said with an edge that made her still. "I'll take care of it."

"Glad I'm not you," Dustin said, leveling a look at her.

She huddled closer to Damian, unwilling to look at his face. "What does kiri mean?" she asked.

"Beloved. It's used for sisters, mothers, and mates in our world," Jule answered. "By the way, you're on my list. I hope I'm off yours."

Her throat tightened, understanding the honor despite his nonchalant delivery. She nodded.

"What list?" Dustin asked.

"You're not on hers," Jule assured him. "I imagine only Pierre is on it now."

She laughed.

"I sense a reassignment," Dustin said, gaze going to the fire.

Her gaze fell to Darian. He was struggling. By the blank look in his unseeing eyes, he'd fallen into his thoughts again. She shifted away from Damian and touched Darian's forehead, absorbing the horror of his memories. She drew a sharp breath but forced herself to stay, to take his pain.

"No, kiri, you've done enough," Darian said, taking her hands. "I have much to atone for."

His heavy words broke her heart, but she respected his request and returned to Damian's side. The horrors from his mind fell away as she curled against her mate again.

The men fell into silence, and she sensed the silent communications she couldn't hear. Comfortable against Damian, she drifted into a restful doze until he shifted. She roused herself, surprised to see the other three had disappeared at some point. She sat up, forcing herself to meet his golden gaze. His face was unreadable, his gaze steady.

"Please don't be angry," she said, touching his face. He took her hand in his and leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest against hers. She sighed, delighting in the tender moment.

"Are you going to run from me again?" he asked without moving.

"No, Damian. Never again. I promise," she swore just as quietly.

"Good." He stood and swept her into his arms. "I've got plans for you tonight," he said, desire flaring on his face as he carried her into his bedroom. "And every night from here on out."

Her heart sang as she realized she hadn't lost him after all, her body echoing the desire on his face.

The next morning, the sight of snow falling outside her window drew her gaze as she packed for the evacuation. Damian replaced his necklace around her neck, a small comfort until his work in the European front was finished. She approached the window, amazed at the snow, until her gaze fell to a figure kneeling like a dark gargoyle in the middle of the white lawn. He'd been there long enough that the snow had covered his footprints.

Alarmed, she swung on her robe and snatched one of Damian's trench coats. She flew down the stairs and through the teeming hallways. Pierre trotted after her into the cold morning. The air was cold, brisk, the snowflakes falling faster. Snow crunched under her feet and quickly soaked her flimsy slippers.

"Darian!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed, his body hunched and hands clenched together. He wore nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans. Snow covered his hair, and his skin was cold. "Darian!" She touched his face.

He opened his eyes and stared at her, a tortured look on his face.

"I remember them," he said. "All of them." His memories flashed, and she winced at the sight of the executions he'd committed for Czerno.

"That wasn't you, Darian," she whispered. "You had no control over yourself."

"I'm weak."

"You're not. Damian was crippled by the same thing." She regretted alluding to it the moment the raw look of anguish crossed his face.

"Claire," he said hoarsely. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenched hard enough for the muscles to tick. Tears escaped one eye and trailed down his face. She felt her own tears spill over at the depth of his pain. His was not the kind of pain she could fix.

"You're safe, Darian," she said and draped the trench coat over his shoulders. She placed her hands on his face and pulled him closer, hugging him. "We won't let anything happen to you."

Dustin approached, his gaze as haunted as Darian's. He knelt, ruffling the snow from Darian's hair.

"It's okay, brother," he said quietly. "Let's get you inside." He helped Darian to his feet. "Sofi, get ready. We're evac-ing you and Darian next," he ordered. "Pierre, pack your things. You're going, too."

She didn't miss the look of relief that crossed Pierre's face and suspected he'd been threatened with a reassignment for shooting her. Obviously, Damian had reconsidered. She was happy for it. Pierre tossed her a familiar cell phone as they entered the mansion. An unread text message blinked on the screen.

4got 2 tell you. Luv u 2.

She grinned and typed a response. Man up and tell me in person.

Next time I see you, I'll do better-I'll show you, he promised, his whisper sliding into her mind. A thrill went through her.

"I still hate that," she muttered.

In the words of an Oracle I once knew, get used to it.

"I love you, Damian. Come home soon."

I will, kiri, I will.

Truly thrilled about the start to her new life, she folded the phone and dropped it into her pocket. She followed Dustin and Darian down the hall.

Sofia. The new voice in her mind was the same as the voice she'd heard during the chopper ride with Darian. He was waiting for her. She pushed open the cracked door to the library. Inside was a man she recognized from Czerno's, the small man with dark green eyes and white hair. Her heart slowed, and she froze inside the doorway.

He gave a fatherly smile and approached her, holding his hand out, palm up. She hesitated, torn between screaming for Dustin and staying where she was. She touched her palm to his, driven back by the impact of images that rippled through her. The whole of Damian's history, his forefathers', all the way to the Beginning, when spirits milled without purpose before the Original Beings shaped the universe into something much greater.

She snapped her hand back and stared at him, overwhelmed. The man before her was from before time, before life, before everything. He clasped his hands behind his back. The memories rippled through her then coalesced, locking themselves away in the back of her mind.

"Watcher." Dustin's warning growl was cold. He took her arm, pulling her behind him. Her gaze was riveted to the man before her. His green gaze switched from her to Dustin, never blinking.

"I mean no harm, Guardian," the Watcher said.

"What are you?" she breathed, the images swimming through her thoughts.

"Ikira, I am a Watcher, one of those who guards the Guardians," he said with another of his warm smiles. "My job is to make sure the pendulum never swings too far into the court of the Black God."

"Bullshit," Dusty snapped. "You have no loyalties to either God."

"True, but it's always been in the Watchers' best interest to ensure humanity perpetuates. The Black God doesn't share our view."

"Master." Darian's voice was monotonous. "I obeyed you. Kiri is safe."

She turned to see his gaze on the ground, his body braced as if for a blow. Heartbroken by his return to the slave he was, Sofia was stopped from comforting him by Dustin's grip on her arm.

"I know, Darian," the Watcher said. "You did well. If I may, ikir?"

He looked to Dustin. Dustin gave a tense nod and pushed her behind him, out of the Watcher's path. He was coiled and ready to snap if the Watcher so much as looked at her too long. She wasn't about to contradict the cold executioner when he was in this mood.

The Watcher approached Darian, who knelt in response to a silent command. The Watcher placed both hands on his head. Darian jerked.

"Tomorrow, when you awake, you will no longer be a slave. You will become the Grey God, who you were born to be," the Watcher told him.

"I thought Watchers had a policy of non-interference," Dustin said in a measured tone.

"We do, ikir, unless the balance is so disturbed that we must interfere." His words sent a chill through Sofia. "You will see me again, ikir. "And you, ikira. You will remember the secrets I gave you one day, when you must use them."

She didn't like the ominous words and looked up at Dustin again, seeking to gauge just how serious the situation was. He was pale beneath the golden skin. She crept closer to him. If he was worried, she had a reason to be terrified.

"My dear Darian," the Watcher said in a softer tone, "I cannot take the pain of the memories you will experience in the morning when you remember the whole of your existence. Do not be consumed by them. You have a great fate to fulfill in this life yet."

"Yes, master," was the monotonous response.

"Tell the White God I send him greetings," the Watcher said and moved away from them. In a gentle flicker of light, he was gone. Sofia released the breath she was holding and moved in front of Dustin, gazing up at him. Her hands shook.

"Dustin?" she prompted when he remained staring at the place where the Watcher had been. He looked down at her. Sensing her fear, he touched her arm, the edge of tension dissipating. His look softened, and rare warmth crossed his features.

"There's a lotta shit about our world you'll figure out," he promised her. "Watchers rarely cause us harm, but they rarely involve themselves in our business either." His considering gaze returned to Darian. "Don't worry, kiri. First things first. We need to evac now."

She nodded, sensing there was much he wasn't saying. He shepherded them to the library door, returning to his original purpose. She took Darian's hand and led him down the hall like the lost child he was. She braced herself against the memories running through his head and the confusion as he tried to figure out where he was.

"You're safe, kiri," he said.

"So are you, Darian," she replied.

As they strode into the gardens toward an awaiting helicopter, she couldn't help but think she'd just stepped into something far greater than she could ever imagine.

Damian's Assassin.

Book II.

Chapter One.

Fifteen years ago.

Bianca looked from her pale brother lying too still on the hospital bed to the smiling nurse. The room was dark except for the light above Jonny's bed and the red and green lights dotting the machines keeping him alive.

"Sweetie, you can lay down in the bed next to your daddy's," the nurse said.

Adults would argue with her if she told them she wasn't leaving her brother, Jonny's, side until he was healed. They thought her too young to understand words like coma and deteriorating, and they accused her of lying when she said she could help him.

"Okay," Bianca replied.

The nurse handed her a thin blanket and pointed to the phone. "Call me if you need anything, okay? All you have to do is pick up, and I'll answer."

"Thank you," she said.

Satisfied, the nurse swept up the linens she'd changed and left. Bianca waited until she heard the door click closed and looked across the small bay to make sure her daddy still slept.

Why couldn't she heal her brother? She scooted forward, frustrated and tired, and touched Jonny's arm. She felt death within him, as she had with her cat Snickers after a car ran him over. She'd saved Snickers. She'd kept the flowers around Jonny's bed as fresh as the day they arrived last week. She'd helped her father sleep.

She couldn't help Jonny.

Maybe Daddy was right. Maybe she was too small. But she was nine, and Jonny was even smaller at four. He really wasn't too much bigger than a cat, not when compared to an adult.

She cried again, snuffling and wiping at her nose before she pushed herself off the chair. She concentrated hard on another wilted flower, bringing it back to full bloom.

"Jonny ..." she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Jonny!"

It was her fault he was in the hospital. Her stepmother-Jonny's mother-had said as much. Bianca cringed as she had earlier that day when her mother and Jonny's mother screamed blame at each other until the nursing staff kicked them out of the room.

She hadn't meant to hurt him. He was annoying, and she wanted him to leave her alone. All he ever wanted to do was play with his stupid baseball, and she'd taken it and thrown it into the forest. He went after it, and she played with her toys all day. He didn't come back, even when it got dark and it was time for them to go inside.

"I can help him," a man said. She jumped. No one had come in through the door she faced. She twisted in her chair to see a man near the dark windows whose eyes were the color of her bright purple Easter dress.

"Are you a doctor?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

"I can make it so he doesn't remember that you did this to him," the stranger said. "But you understand that medical treatment isn't free?"

Her chin trembled as guilt flowed over her and she swallowed hard, nodding.

"It will cost you something."

She dug through the pockets in her jeans and pulled out the stash of one dollar bills she'd been given for trips to the candy machine down the hall. She counted them with shaking hands.

"I only have four dollars," she said with some dismay.

"I require more than that." His eyes seemed to swirl, around and around, changing from the color of her mother's tulips to a color almost as dark as the night. He wasn't like the other doctors. His voice wasn't kind. He had no emotions, like a man in a Halloween mask.

"I don't have anything else!"

The man with purple eyes knelt in front of her. His face didn't look rubbery like a Halloween mask, but he didn't look normal. The air around him was cold like it was around an air conditioning vent. She took a step back.