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That was absolutely true. But that wasn’t what I was worried about the most.

If something happened to Omaera’s best friend, her sister, her only family until a month ago, it could push her over the edge and on to a path of total realm annihilation and revenge.

It could push her over to the dark side.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Omaera

Drak was quiet in the vehicle with me as I sat there, a bundle of terrified nerves.

My best friend could be in danger—again. And all because of me.

Or she could be dead, and it all happened while I was off in some parallel universe, having a threesome with two of my Fated Mates.

How could I be so stupid? So selfish?

I never should have left Gemma alone. Melissima was sweet, and a talented healer, but she couldn’t protect Gemma. Not the way I could. Not the way my mates could.

I stared out the window at the red neon lights for the Sunset Bar & Grill. The second “S” in sunset was dimmer than the rest of the lights and flickered a little, making it read more likeSunet Bar & Grill.

Today had been such a wonderful day, even if it was in preparation for a meeting that would ultimately end in several deaths. The meadow, having a true heart-to-heart with Drak, and even getting to meet Zandren’s father. Then all those fantastic things fell into the dark shadow of finding out Gemma and Melissima weren’t safe.

And now we had to wait to hear if they were even alive, or where they might be.

If Lerris had Gemma again, I would hunt that demon down and show him absolutely no mercy. I didn’t plan on showing him any mercy anyway, not after the way he tortured Gemma the first time he took her. But now, I took pleasure in the idea of watching him suffer.

If Howar was the one to take her, well, I’d make him suffer too. It didn’t matter if he was highborn, or Drak’s cousin. He was already a traitor. If he was a kidnapper and murderer as well, he’d feel unbearable pain before we ended his life once and for all.

“I’m sorry about Raver,” I said softly to Drak, not bothering to turn around.

“It’s fine,” he replied, barely above a whisper.

“No. It’s not.” I spun around to look him in the eye. “First Howar, and now Raver. You’re allowed to be hurt, Drak. You’re allowed to be hurt, and sad, and angry.”

“And what good would any of those emotions do?”

I blinked at him as he stared stoically into my eyes. “It would allow you to grieve the loss of two people you loved, and move on. Move past it and heal.”

“They’re not dead. Why am I grieving?”

Oh, this man was impossible. I growled deep in my throat; it was almost as rumbly as Zandren’s growl. Then, just to gather some strength at having to deal with such an emotionally stunted individual, I sucked in a fortifying breath through my nose and counted to ten in my head before finally opening my eyes again. “They’re not dead … yet,” I clarified, with the hope of sparking some kind of reaction in him. I had every intention of putting Howar on trial and quite possibly killing him if he was responsible for Gemma no longer being with the healer-mage. “And you’re not grievingthem. You’re grieving the loss of their friendship. The loss of them from your life.” He remained stone-faced, which seriously grated on my nerves. “Haven’t you ever had a friendship go south, and it took you a while to get over it?”

“No.”

Fuck, he was a robot sometimes. “Seriously? Not even as a child?”

“I grew up with Howar and Raver. They were my childhood friends.”

“So the fact that they’ve betrayed you has to hurt. You’ve been friends forhundreds of years.”

Finally, a crack in his marble mask—a twitch of his lip and a flash of something in his eyes. It was tough to see in the dimly lit cab of the Honda. Our only source of light was that obnoxious neon sign.

“People betray each other all the time,” he finally said. “Look at Maxar and his parents.”

“And he is still in pain over it,” I argued. Growling again, I shook my head. “Are you really that much of a robot?”

“Vampires are taught from birth that emotions are for the weak. And as a highborn, we’re taught so even more. Babies and children don’t even cry, as they learn quickly that it won’t get them what they want.”