“And suddenly Lauren’s presence in your life makes sense.”

“Everything I do, I do for a reason, Risa.” He nodded down at my hand. “You’d better do something about that. I need you fit and able to find the keys later today.”

“So much for being able to read my mind only during sex,” I spat. “Is everything that comes out of your mouth a fabrication?”

“Only when it suits me.” His smile was lazy and arrogant. “That, however, was not a total lie. The only time I can generally read you is during sex—it just doesn’t have to be between you and me.”

My stomach clenched, and I came so close to throwing up that the bitter taste of bile filled the back of my throat. Every time I’d had sex with Azriel, he’d been reading me. God, was there no end to this man’s depravity?

“I’m going to fucking kill you. You know that, don’t you?”

He laughed softly. “Keep believing that if it makes you feel better, Risa. However, you are no more capable of doing that than I am of sprouting wings—and not even the banshee you hold in your hand will alter that one fact.”

Banshee not, Amaya growled. Throw. Will gladly eat.

Not until we find Ilianna. To Lucian, I said, “You always were an arrogant sod. I just didn’t think you were stupid.”

“I guess only time will prove which of us is right.” He shrugged, the movement casual and elegant. “Now, as I suggested before, you’d best heal that hand.”

I glanced down. Blood streamed from what remained of my fingers, and the ever-enlarging pool underneath them shimmered softly in the semilit darkness. And just like that, the anger gave way and the pain hit. My legs started trembling, and my head began spinning so badly, it was all I could do to remain standing.

I wasn’t even sure I could heal a wound this bad, but if I didn’t try soon, then I’d be unconscious and in his power again. If he moves near me, I ordered Amaya, slice him up. Just don’t kill him.

Pleasure.

I closed my eyes and called to the Aedh. It came in a trickle rather than a rush, a sure sign the magic that had prevented me from changing in the bedroom still held some sway out here. Either that or I was simply reaching the limits of my strength. And in the end, the result was pretty much the same.

I grabbed at that trickle fiercely, forced it down into my arm, imagined my fingers and hand fading into energy. I felt the burn of power roll down the muscles, and an instant later, the ever-growing throb of pain was gone as my lower arm and hand became particles rather than flesh.

The trembling in my body grew stronger, and my control began to slip. I bit my lip, called up the Aedh again, and imagined fingers that were healed and whole. But this time, the energy was little more than a weak wash.

Then my knees went out from under me and I hit the concrete. Hard. I bit back a yelp and, with some trepidation, opened my eyes. I had four whole fingers back on my hand, but they were still a bloody—and very painful—mess. But the bleeding had at least slowed to little more than a trickle.

I met Lucian’s gaze again. “Now what?”

His gaze slid insolently down my body and my stomach clenched. He not touch, Amaya warned. Will slice.

Her fierce readiness to defend my honor was infinitely gratifying, but I had no doubt that having sex with him would be the ultimate price for setting Ilianna free. He didn’t want just any offspring, no matter how much he’d loaded the bases with Ilianna and Lauren. He wanted our offspring. Wanted a child that was as close to full Aedh as someone like him was ever likely to get.

And if that was the price of freeing Ilianna, then it was one I would pay, however much I—and my sword—might hate it.

“What do you think is next?”

The desire radiating off him was so fierce and strong, it hit like a summer storm. My body trembled under its force, and my nipples puckered, reactions that only increased the strength of the storm.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.” I continued to meet his gaze steadily, even though my heart was beating a million miles an hour and my throat was dry.

A smile played about his lips. “You lie, Risa Jones.”

I didn’t reply, because there was very little I could say or do at this point. If sex was what he now intended, then it would happen, no matter what. And if I killed him, as I ached to, it would be Ilianna who paid. I was the reason she’d been kidnapped, raped, and impregnated, and that was guilt enough. I couldn’t bear the weight of her death as well.

He took several steps toward me, then stopped. “Get up.”

I rose slowly and somewhat unsteadily. Lust continued to roll off him in waves, and tiny beads of perspiration began to dot my skin. My damn nipples were so hard, they ached and, as much as I hated it, I couldn’t entirely ignore the desire that slithered through me. And while most of it was undoubtedly the spell he’d placed on me, some of it was not.

I might hate him, but I also wanted him.

But I’d be damned if I admitted it.

Our gazes clashed for several more nerve-racking minutes; then he raised a hand, pressed a fingertip between my breasts, and pushed me backward. Amaya’s screams echoed in my head, and I ordered her to shut up and not cut.

My back hit the wall, the wood rough and grimy against my skin. He kept me pinned, not moving, not saying anything, just watching me with that smug, insolent expression I was beginning to hate.

Then he stepped back.

For a moment, hope leapt, but the amusement touching his lips soon killed that.

“Undress me,” he ordered. “Slowly.”

I flexed my fingers, battling anger and the urge to do as Amaya desired, then raised my hands and unbuttoned his shirt. When the last button came undone, I placed my hands on his skin and slid them upward, over the taut muscles of his stomach and chest and then under the shirt. As it slipped to floor, I ran my hands back down his body and played with the waist of his pants.

His warm breath fanned across my skin, its tempo one of expectation. Mine was no better, despite my loathing of the situation. My gaze rose to his. Desire burned in those green depths, but so, too, did warning.

I unfastened his pants. His cock strained against the restriction of his silk boxers, thick and hard and ready for action. I hooked my fingers into the waist of both and slid them down his legs. He stepped out, then pressed a hand against my head, keeping me down.

“Suck me.”

I did as he bid, sucking and licking and teasing until the salty taste of come began to fill my mouth.

Abruptly, he tangled his fingers in my hair and yanked me upright. He spun me around so that I faced the wall, then pulled my head backward, kissing me fiercely as he entered me from behind. What followed was animalistic and hard, and, despite my loathing of both him and the situation, felt good. But I did not give voice to my pleasure. There wasn’t much I could keep to myself given the situation, but I refused to give him that.

He came with a shout that was as fierce as it was triumphant, pumping hard as he emptied himself inside me. I closed my eyes, my body still trembling with unfulfilled desire, his fluids dribbling down my thighs and hate in my heart.

He withdrew, turned me around, and kissed me fiercely again. But just as quickly, he pulled away.

“Respond like you mean it, dear Risa, or I will not make the call that is keeping your friend alive.”

“You can’t keep either of us forever, Lucian,” I said, my voice edged with the anger I was barely keeping leashed. I could almost taste his death, and god, it tasted sweet. “Sooner or later, this will have to end.”

“Oh, it will.” He bent, picked me up in his arms, then spun and walked back to the bedroom. “But the military exhibition does not open until ten, and that gives me five hours to fuck you senseless.”

He threw me onto the bed, but didn’t immediately join me. “By the time you leave here, you will be carrying my child. And that will be the greatest revenge I could ever have on your reaper.”

My flesh-and-blood reaper. If he could bleed, if he could gain human emotions when in flesh too long, why then would he not also be fertile? If the Raziq had taken the chip out, then it was more than possible that I was already pregnant.

God, wouldn’t that be the perfect twist? If I had to be pregnant, then I would much rather the father be someone I actually cared about than someone I intended to kill.

Of course, given fate’s apparent desire to crap all over my life, it was not a likely outcome, but my heart still sang at the thought.

And it was a hope that got me through the hours that ensued.

I woke to the scent of mold, dust, and age. Similar scents, yet different from what I’d woken to before. Disoriented, I rolled onto my back, feeling the rough edges of wood rather than the silk of sheets. My eyes were heavy and my head was booming, and that “drank too much” sensation was well and truly back.

He’d obviously transported me magically rather than just letting me go. I couldn’t remember his doing it, but then, I hadn’t actually been around for the last few hours of our encounter. I might not have done much astral travel, but I’d learned enough to get the hell out of my body. Lucian either hadn’t noticed or hadn’t cared. He might have paid lip service to wanting me to be an eager, vocal participant, but in the end all he’d wanted was a body to impregnate.

And I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d do if I was pregnant, especially since there was just as much chance of it being Azriel’s as Lucian’s.

God, please, let it be Azriel’s.

A desperate plea that in itself suggested the psychic part of me already knew my fate in that regard.

I opened my eyes. Daylight drifted in from the grimy windows to my right, highlighting a mess of upturned tables, broken chairs, and graffiti-littered walls. It had to be Larry’s, and I wondered if Jak had ever been here. Lucian was much more than we’d ever suspected, and maybe magic wasn’t the only thing he’d become adept at. Maybe he could imitate voices, as well. Right now, I wouldn’t put anything past him.

I pushed into a sitting position. The first thing I saw was the ring of black stones that surrounded me. But they weren’t just any old stones; they were wards. I raised a hand and carefully touched one. Color swirled through its dark heart, but it didn’t react in any other way. Their presence, however, might explain why Azriel—or anyone else, for that matter—hadn’t come to my rescue. Warding stones were generally used to keep things either out or in, but I knew they could also be used to confuse. Maybe no one had rescued me simply because they’d been unable to pin down my location.