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“Theories? I have many. Proof? Now, that’s a bit more complicated. Some of my suspicions extend to places even I dare not trod. There are some with fragile egos and too much power that I would offend with the mere suggestion they may be involved. If I am mistaken, the repercussions would be disastrous.”

Victor was rarely wrong on these matters. How far up the food chain did he think this extended? “Perhaps the surviving assassin can provide some answers.”

“Perhaps, with the right motivation.”

“I could supply that motivation,” Jericho offered, his voice a low growl.

Victor clapped his hand down on Jericho’s shoulder and squeezed. “Slade will see to it. You, I believe, are too close to the matter.”

Translation, he worried Jericho may tear the male apart. It was a valid concern.

Victor released him, saying, “Your Chosen, she is a sympath?”

Jericho blinked at the sudden change of subject. It shouldn’t surprise him that Victor had knowledge of her caste without being told. Still, he found it unsettling. “Yes.”

“What do you know of her abilities?”

Far less than Victor, apparently. “Nothing.”

“Has sheaffectedyou?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Although, he’d been oblivious to Sivanah’s manipulations too. After Queen Rayna and her followers were slaughtered, the remaining faeries learned to hide their existence. He didn’t know what Sivanah was until it was too late.

As though he’d read Jericho’s thoughts, Victor said, “With your skills and experience, you would have noticed her prodding your mental shields.”

True. He was no longer the weak, inexperienced male Sivanah had bent to her will. If Alex had tested his boundaries, he would have known. He frowned. Why didn’t she when it would be in her best interest to have him in her thrall?

“Hello?” said a feminine voice.

“Enter,” Victor called out, seeming unsurprised at the visit.

Ivy rounded the corner with Alex following. His Chosen turned a circle as she walked, her head swiveling. “Holy crap, Ivy. Did you see the size of that butterfly?

* * *

Alex scuffedher feet along the flagstone walkway. The scent of Jasmine teased her nose, and the humidity promised to turn her hair into a frizzy mop. Still, she was too fascinated to summon an ounce of feminine outrage. Stepping into the glass-covered conservatory was like stepping back in time—into the days when dinosaurs roamed the earth.

Over her head, a gorgeous crimson and orange butterfly circled. She held out her hand, and it perched on her fingertips. Its tiny bug feet gave her the heebie-jeebies, and yet it was too beautiful to shake off.

“Alexandra, I’ve been expecting you.”

At the sound of her name, she flinched, and the butterfly fluttered away. She frowned, wiping her palm on her slacks, her other hand confined by a sling. An unnecessary annoyance, in her opinion, but Doc insisted she wear it to help minimize movement in her shoulder. Before she could object, Ivy had turned those damned doe eyes on her. And here Alex was the one suspected of being the mind-controlling monster.

It was Doc’s sister who’d help Alex dress. The indigo blouse and charcoal slacks were far different that her usual Howlers shirt and jeans. She felt as if she’d slipped into someone else’s skin.

She turned her attention to the end of the curving path. Jericho and an elegant vampire she assumed was Victor waited for them.

“Thank you, Ivy,” Victor said. “You may leave.”

“Don’t touch anything,” was all the warning Ivy offered before she practically sprinted to the exit. So much for female comradery.

“Come, join us,” Victor commanded.

Before Alex could respond, something grazed her ankle, and she glanced down. “Holy crap cakes.” She shook her foot free of the vine that had slithered in her direction. Victor’s collection put thecreepin Virginia Creeper. She high-stepped it to Jericho’s side.

Jericho performed the rather formal introductions. “Victor Custodis, Clan Chief of the Eastern Realm, this is Alexandra Stevens, my…Chosen.” She noted he hesitated over her title. It sounded strange to her ears as well.

“Please, sit.” Victor urged, guiding her toward a bench.