They paid Grace no heed. One of the guards headed toward the entryway, where other guards were pouring inside to escape the beast, but he didn’t make it outside the room. Not alive. There was a blur of movement, then blood was squirting, a headless body falling. From the corner of her eye, Grace spotted James. He was a mess, covered in blood, limping, his arms hanging at his sides. His fangs were bared in a fearsome, crimson scowl, and she knew. He was the animal. Thank God. Some of the tension drained from Grace. Somehow, some way, he’d managed to escape. His plan to destroy the people who lived inside this palace was well under way. Before, she’d thought there would be survivors. Now, not so much. James barreled into another guard, his shoulder slamming into the man’s middle and knocking him backward. The guard propelled into another, the one with the whip. The two fell to the floor. James slashed into the whipper’s neck and shook, a demon with his first meal in months. Screams…

Such a strong reaction, when she’d had no cause to worry. And yet, that worry pleased him. James liked her concern. Liked what it meant. Already Grace cared. This mortal cared. “I’ve been thinking,” she said, nibbling on her bottom lip. James stomach clenched at the sight of her teeth, doing what he wanted to do. “Something you enjoy.” He placed his throbbing hands over hers, preventing her from drawing away. “Yes, well.” Grace tongue emerged, swiping where she’d bitten. “We’ve been going in circles, which means Levy her mother told the truth. You are cursed to remain in Nork.” The sight of her tongue did far more damage to his control than the sight of her teeth. How easy it would be to lean down, lick, sample, savor. Not until she heals. Another reminder. Also, not until she begs. You promised. “I know,” he said more harshly than he’d intended. “Oh.” Her nose scrunched adorably, easing the sting of his self-directed anger. “Well, you could have told me. I’ve worried, expecting

That occurrence was never far from Grace’s mind. After viewing herself in the bedroom unconscious on the video surveillance captured by James’ men, Grace had dissolved in one of the apartment’s many corridors. She was in shock and denial. It had been James who’d found her unconscious in the bed, not minding his wound and bloodied self. She was wet, muddy, and almost lifeless. Incredibly, it had been James who had rescued her from the clutches of death, biting his wrist and giving her his own blood. He had been on her side day and night. He never left her side. She had embarrassed herself with tears that wouldn’t end, but he’d let her spill them all. James had let her weep when the news of her grandmother’s death reached her, and even more astonishingly, he’d let her crumble against him, holding her through her grief in silence. With his strong arms wrapped around her, he held Grace together when she felt like she was being torn into pieces by her anguish. Her grandmother was attacked

Marlon, the Hunter’s commander and the most trusted man of the Master, was waiting on information—vital information—and his patience was thin even in the best of situations. It didn’t bode well that his spy was late. The man he’d recruited for this particular job was volatile and arrogant, but he was also reliable. All human spies were. Drained to within a bare inch of life, the human mind slaves were under the complete control of the sorcerer who made them. Only the most powerful among the magical race could create a human spy to do their bidding, and supernatural law had long prohibited the practice as barbaric. But who cared? The Master must wake up soon, and he needed his bloodline’s magic to do that, but now that Flora, the master’s wife, was found dead, Marlon was on edge. He didn't want to start all over. Marlon scoffed with contempt at the self-imposed, bureaucratic castration of his kind. Just one more example of why they were overdue for change. They needed strong new lead

James came out of a brief, light doze, fully recharged, as footsteps approached the apartment door from outside. He knew the sound of Grace’s soft but determined gait even before a key slid into the lock, announcing her arrival. She’d been gone for almost two hours. Another two and the sun would finally be gone, and he’d be free to get the hell out of there, back to his business as usual. Seated on the floor with his elbows resting on his knees, his back against the foam-padded wall, he watched as the door opened cautiously and Grace slipped inside. She didn’t seem as eager to singe him with the waning light from the hall; now she was focused on her own movements as if it took most of her concentration just to remove the key and carefully close the door behind her. A lumpy plastic grocery bag swung from her tightly fisted left hand. "Find what you need?" James asked her as she rested for a moment with her forehead pressed against the door. Her weak nod was her only reply. "Another h