Present Time

I awoke...somewhere that swayed and jolted. Sunlight, not in its purest form, skittered across my face as I pried my sticky eyes open to see a low ceiling.

Beneath me—a ribbing of softness.

A seat.

I was lying across the backseat of a car. The windows were tinted but the height of the sun indicated it still was early. Maybe nine o'clock. Perhaps earlier.

The gentle purr of an engine; a rustling of fabric; and an off-kilter melody filled the car's interior. It was a jazz song that floated in the air. Along with a distinctive smell of cologne that assaulted my nostrils. It was a pleasant scent, yet my stomach clenched in revolt at its familiarity.

Sliding my gaze sideways, I watched someone's legs stretch out, their shoes shifting across the floor—navy dress pants and custom leather shoes. Someone was sitting on a plush seat that ran the length of the interior. My dazed head swam as I angled my head to look.

Danne.

I was in the back of a limousine with Danne Pelan.

He'd stolen me.

Fear shot through my chest, menacing and caustic, tightening every muscle as it crawled over my skin.

We weren't alone, either. There were twin boys, perhaps fourteen years old, sitting side-by-side with rigid postures, their brows furrowed in deep concentration. Fingers twitched where they were spread on their thighs. But it was the boys' eyes that set my heartbeat racing. Their unblinking eyes were completely milky-white. No pupils or irises. Other.

As yet Danne hadn't noticed I'd awoken. He was holding a small vial beneath his nose, inhaling a purplish vapor through a slightly pinched nostril. He tipped his head back and sighed in bliss. A moment later he shook his head, blinking blearily before rubbing a hand across his face and swiping below his nose. Twisting the stopper back into the small vial, he went to slip it into his pocket, stilled, then chose otherwise and held onto it. I watched as he rested his loose fist on top of his thigh, absentmindedly brushing his thumb back and forth over the vial's smooth glass.

I wasn't sure if what he'd inhaled was one of our own illicit drugs infused with magic that was created by House Simonis in the Pelan's laboratory and sold through the crime syndicates. And if it was, what influence he might now be under? How much more dangerous and unpredictable could he be?

My tongue felt heavy and furry. I cleared my throat. "What is that?"

Danne's eyebrows rose as he realized I'd awoken, and he shifted his body to face me. He grinned—a flash of white teeth in a broad smile. "Good, you're awake. It's a long drive and, quite frankly, I'm bored."

Pushing up by my elbows, I sat upright and took my measure. A sour taste coated my mouth and my limbs still felt leaden. Whatever dust Danne had blown into my face, which had been forced into my lungs and bloodstream, was some kind of poison the creature didn't want to touch, at all. It writhed, hissing and yowling, utterly pissed-off at having to hide behind a magical shield to protect itself. I no longer felt its power coiling around my bones.

I was just a girl. No more, no less.

Curiosity drove me to try again as I stared at Danne slowly rotating the vial between his fingers, exactly like my mother liked to do. "What did you just inhale?"

"Oh, this is just a little concoction from House Simonis," he said tapping the glass vial lightly against his thigh.

"One of ours?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Even I'm not stupid enough to take our own drugs. Best leave that to the mortals to get hooked on." Lifting his hand, the dull sunlight spearing through the vehicle's windows struck off the vial pincered between his fingertips. Inside the glass, was a purple vapor that swirled like mist. "No...this settles my nerves. I've been run ragged of late. Rather stressed, I must admit."

Swinging my legs over the seat, I sat up properly. Too sudden, too soon. Light sparked behind my eyelids and my head whirled. Sinking forward, I rested my elbows on my thighs and massaged my throbbing temples with cold, shaky fingers until the spinning stopped.

Danne leaned forward, his gaze brimming with concern. "You okay?"

He sounded so normal and caring, I was confused and wondered if perhaps what had happened earlier—where I was right now—was just something I was dreaming about. However, like a snapping of fingers, the moment was gone when his mouth curled downward in distaste. "I don't want you throwing up in here. We've got a ways to travel yet and I couldn't abide the stench of your vomit the entire way."

I bared my teeth at him and it only drew a startled laugh from him. He reclined in his seat, watching me carefully as he tucked the vial into the front pocket of his tuxedo jacket. "My, my Nelle, you are very much like your wraith-wolf."

A pang of anguish pierced my heart at the reminder of Sage. If only he were here... But perhaps it was safer for my friend to be home on my family estate, rather than here with this foul monster.

My skirt had hitched up with my readjustment on the backseat and I tugged it down, smoothing it over my knees. Danne noticed and he slowly smiled at the gesture like a wolf. He looked so much like Corné, ice flooded my veins.

Nostrils flaring, I narrowed my eyes at him and mustered as much of that Wychthorn authority as I could. "What the hells do you think you're doing Danne?" My father was going to end him.

He returned a rather pleased smile. "Your father has no idea where you are. No one does. Everyone thinks you're dead."

Dead...the word clanged through my mind.

My stomach knotted with dread.

The Changeling in my bedroom returned to my mind's eye. "You exchanged me for a Changeling."

Would my family suspect? Would they know that thing Danne had left in my place wasn't me?

It was a hope to see my father's men rushing to find me that had me twisting around to look through the rear window. We were buried in a convoy of SUVs. There was no doubt in my mind that all of them would be full of soldiers loyal to House Pelan or whoever it was Danne was in league with.

It had to be that man in my bedroom. The man with the kingfisher-blue eyes. As he'd held me in his arms, he'd been the one instructing Danne what to do next. A memory of his voice rang through my head—I can't be near her. He'll corrupt her.

Danne's voice startled me out of my thoughts. "Even if your family should discover you'd been stolen, they'll never be able to track us down." He reached over to a console and picked up a tumbler of rum. The smell of molasses wafted through the small space and mixed with the acrid taste of panic sliding down my throat, smothering my chest and suffocating my courage.

My gaze shot to the two boys. The others.

The words croaked from me. "What are they?"

"Cloakers. They've been tweaked by my family to put a mental shield around the convoy. No one will find us."

And it finally sunk in, my mind twisting around the realization that no one would know that I'd been stolen. No one would be coming to find me.

What am I going to do?

How can I get myself out of this?

I grasped at anything my desperate mind could think of. "Whatever trouble you're in, my father will get you out of it. He'll give you anything you want. Just let me go."

Danne roasted the tumbler around in his hands, staring down at it with eyes filled with self-pity. This time, he spoke honestly. "I can't. I'm caught too deep. I'm in too far."

"Surely—"

"You, sweet Nelle..." and then he burst into laughter. The sound of his laugh, rough and cruel, filled the limousine and drowned out the sound of his beloved jazz music. "Sweet," he chuckled. "More like feral. I don't know what happened between you and my brother, but you've certainly got him pissing his pants." His mirth died as his expression became somber. "You, Nelle, are the key to getting me out of the shit-hole mess I've found myself in."

What kind of mess was he in? What kind of mess would force him to resort to stealing a Wychthorn princess?

Careful. I had to be careful. I softened my voice, and forced sweetness and understanding into my tone just like a friend would do. "Whatever it is, I'm sure we can find a way out of it."

He shook his head as he gave me a sad, pitiful look. "If my father finds out I stole from our family's coffers, from the Horned Gods themselves...he won't disinherit me, he'll kill me. You don't ever get to leave the Horned Gods. Nor disgrace your House." He took a swill of his drink, wiping his moist mouth with the back of his hand. "I was extended a lifeline. At least that's what I thought at the time. Until the cards kept folding. And then I found myself in a different kind of debt with a man who knew about us—the Houses and Horned Gods..."

"Who?" Who out there in the mortal world would know about us?

The man with blue eyes, the pale hair.

"Who is he? Who was that man you were with?"

Danne shifted his body and slung an arm casually over the backrest as if we were simply discussing a trivial business transaction over something inconsequential. Not my life. "Your father really is quite the tyrant. You haven't been off the estate for months, which made my job unnecessarily difficult."

"Which was?" I asked even though I knew the answer.

"Silas Boon wanted me to get hold of you for him." The name meant nothing to me. I hadn't ever heard my father mention or talk to a Mr. Boon whenever I'd loitered in his office, listening into his conversations. "Mr. Boon asked me to entice you off the estate. There was only one proviso—do it gently. Don't frighten you."

Well, I was frightened, but I wasn't going to let him see that. Instead, he received a glacial glare.

Danne took a sip of his drink, staring at me over the lip of the tumbler. Lowering the glass, his gaze slowly slid from my face, down to my chest to linger on my breasts. The hungry feel of his desire set my stomach roiling. In a graceful motion, he moved to sit beside me and I steeled myself not to shirk aside and fall into panic. I needed to keep calm and level-headed and keep him talking, so I could find a way out of this.

My gaze went to the twin others sitting still as death, down the other end of the limousine. No help would come from them. I was on my own.

The bottles of aged wine and spirits rattled gently with the twisting turns the limousine made. We were traveling up a mountain and I could hear a splash of water as if tires had run through puddles.

Were there any weapons I could use?

My adamere bracelet...

But there was no room in the confines of the car to wield it properly.

"Who is this Silas Boon? Does he work for someone else?" I asked.

Danne shrugged, relaxing his legs so his outer thigh pressed against mine, and the touch sent fear running rampant through my body. "If I had to guess, and I've had quite some time wondering about it all. I might conclude that the Children of the Harbinger had risen from the ashes."

I blinked. "They're all dead." Our ancestors hunted them all down and annihilated them.

"Are they?"

What if Danne was right? What if the Children of the Harbinger had survived the purge and they'd arisen once more? But what did I have to do with anything?

I shuffled a little down the seat, creating space between us. "What does this Mr. Boon want with me?"

Danne's gaze became predatory as his gaze slowly traveled down my body, skimming my skin like cloying fat. "I thought you were just an attempt to cut Byron down. An abduction of a princess." He reached over to slide a lock of my hair between his fingers, playing with the end. "You would have met Mr. Boon...if he hadn't made you so tempting, nor given you away..." I batted his hand from my hair before gathering the tresses and slinging them over my opposite shoulder. His chuckle of amusement sent a bolt of anxiety surging down my spine.

And then his words registered in my mind—

What did he mean—'would have'?

My heart skipped a beat.

Danne knew I was other.

"Where am I going then, if not to this Boon?"

He finished the dregs of his drink and placed the empty tumbler back into the console. "I'm taking you home to the Carpellean Mountains. I'm hoping that if I give you over to my father, he'll forgive me for my foolish grip on money." He grinned. "And just think on it, if my House hands you to Master Sirro... Well, someone like you, an other hidden all this time by Byron, it wouldn't surprise me if the Horned Gods elevated my family to Great House." He reached out to glide a finger down my arm, and everything inside me shriveled like a moldy, decomposing leaf when he spoke again. "I can't wait to find out what is lurking beneath your skin."

I quickly shoved myself back, pressing into the back seat's corner, but he advanced, sliding closer. "But...I wonder if perhaps it wouldn't matter if you arrived in less than pristine condition."

"What do you mean?" He placed his hand on my knee and I smacked it away. "Don't touch me!"

"I want to do more than just touch you."

Fear, cold fear, settled in every single part of me, into my very bones.

"It was an interesting choice of word—mate." He gave me a sly look. "It wasn't as if Boon said sex or fuck. He'd chosen mate. As if by mating...there was more to it. Do you think if I fuck you, you'll mark me?" His freckled hand dropped to my leg. Revulsion churned in my stomach as he spread his fingers wide and gently squeezed my thigh. "I think, Nelle, you'll not be able to stop yourself."

Hopelessness sank through me, heavy like wet sand.

My fingernails dug into his flesh as I pried his hand off.

He grinned, shaking the sting from his hand before humming thoughtfully. "I'm more partial to Evelene. I'm sure I'll taste her soon enough. My brother's not greedy...he likes to share."

The creature inside me hissed with bared fangs.

"I want you, Nelle. Now more than ever. Probably solely because you completely ignored me for that fucking asshole you're tied to. He's a prick and yet you can't help yourself, can you? What is it about Graysen Crowther that has women throwing their godsdamn panties at him?"

"This is about Graysen?" It wasn't a question. I now knew this was more about Graysen than me, and it rallied a fierceness in me that was sharply honed.

"More than anything, I'd like to see Graysen Crowther bleed. Thinking he could lay waste to me. Lording above us all. As if his family were an Upper House—"

"House Crowther was once Great House." It spilled from my lips unheeded. I didn't know for sure, but it felt right. And I really wanted to remind Danne Pelan of his place within our world.

Danne blinked, surprised.

"They were the first to hold the mantle when the Horned Gods were born." I scoffed at him. "Danne, you entitled brat. You're one of the youngest Houses amongst us. And the Crowthers are the oldest. The only surviving House from the Final War." I unwound my adamere bracelet, clutching it halfway to shorten the length so I still had room to swing it in the small confines of the limousine.

His eyes gleamed in delight as they lit upon my lips. "Gods, that mouth of yours. I want it wrapped around my cock. I want you writhing beneath me. I want to have your virginal blood spill onto the sheets and stain them red." His laugh cut through the limousine, blending with the sound of jazz. "A limousine will have to do."

I flung my arm out sideways. "Too bad. I've already given myself to Graysen!"

The bracelet clacked as it whipped through the air. I snapped my wrist, driving the adamere beads toward his shocked face—

Danne moved fast, dodging sideways—

To grab hold of the bracelet before it cracked against his cheek—

And tugged.

So easily he disarmed me.

Tossing the bracelet away, it arced through the interior, and hit the lap of one of the twin-others, slithering to the floor beside his foot.

Black, crushing terror suffocated me.

I tried rallying the dark power that resided inside of me, but I couldn't reach it. I felt no trace of its might hidden behind a shield to protect itself from the poison coursing through my blood. I was very much alone. There was nowhere to run to. Those twin boys at the back of the limousine weren't going to help me either.

Move, move, move!—I shrieked at myself.

END HIM!—the creature roared.

I shoved my shoulder into his belly and lunged off the seat, trying for the door. I didn't care how fast the limousine was traveling, I had to flee, even if it meant throwing myself out while it was still moving.

The door handle was in my grasp—

Danne crashed into me from behind—

Thrust forward, my head smacked against the door window. Stars exploded in front of my eyes. Dizzying black spots had me swaying—

Fresh pain burst across my skull as his fingers fisted my hair and he jerked me backward. I fell onto the floor so hard the air was punched from my lungs. A heavy weight settled on my thighs as he straddled my body, wrapping a hand around my wrists and forcing my hands above my head.

Danne's face loomed above me. He panted wildly, not from exertion but from excitement. "Gods, sitting beside you at the table of Wychthorns... You had no idea how hard I was. I wanted to shred that pretty little dress to pieces and bend you over the table. Pin your head so you could see Crowther watching me fuck you. See him shatter and break with every thrust." His free hand wound around my throat, thumb caressing my frantic pulse point. "I'm going to break him, Nelle. If I break you, I break him too." He pushed himself back a little. "Be a good girl. Spread your legs and let me in."

"Never!" I shrieked, flailing uselessly beneath him.

My fight only made that rapacious gleam in his eyes burn brighter.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and settled it into a slot on a thin shelf lining the interior wall of the limousine. Bringing up a video app, the red record button flashed. "How about we make Crowther a little video? A memento for me, too. Something I can watch and remember how I tore apart the Wychthorn princess." His breath, soaked in alcohol, washed over me as he leaned down, laughing at my fight, my struggle. He nudged his nose against my neck, inhaling my scent, drawing his mouth upward to whisper in my ear, "I'm going to fuck you until that pretty face is slick with tears. Until those sweet lips twist in pain and your throat is raw with screaming."

Hot heat burned behind my eyes. "You'll never get away with this." I wanted it to come out strong, but it came out weak and broken.

He straightened, eagerness shining sharply in his eyes. "Oh, but I think I already have." And then with one hand, he pushed my skirt higher. His fingers dug and twisted to get beneath the waistband of my panties, and he tore them clean off.

Pure, unadulterated terror burst through me.

I struggled, trying to push him off and shove those greedy hands away. But I was just a girl, a girl without anything special about her. No strength, no power.

I was just a frail girl pinned beneath someone bigger, stronger...who didn't care if she screamed or cried no or pleaded for him to stop.