Page 4

Archer cocked one brow up as he crossed his arms over his chest, his expression one of amused disbelief. "This is Sierra we're talking about. She would do the exact opposite of what you told her. You say 'stay away from the border,' she builds a fucking house there."

Fuck. He was right. She would do everything in her power to contradict whatever I said or asked her to do. It was one ofthe things I loved about her—her defiance, her fire. And now it might get her killed.

"Foolish fucking girl." My blood boiled, heart pumping liquid fire through my veins as I thought of anything happening to my precious Sierra. The mere idea of her in danger made the darkness inside me swell, threatening to consume everything in its path.

I may have abandoned her. Left her in the human realm, but I had my reasons. She would discover them eventually. Some secrets were too dangerous to share, even with her.

"Let's stop lamenting about it and get to it." Archer's eyes flashed red, telling me he was just about at the end of his patience with me. The momentary crimson glow illuminated the ancient scars that curved beneath his jawline—remnants of his own troubled past.

"Who is the ruler of the underworld here?" I snorted as I pulled on my pants and threw a shirt over my head, not bothering to fasten all the buttons. Time was precious now.

"One would think it was you, but what is a ruler without his hand?" Archer's lips twisted up in a devious grin at the double entendre he was implying. His daggers disappeared into hidden sheaths as he readied himself for our hunt.

I wrapped an arm around his neck and brought him close against my body. I had several inches on him, as well as about fifty pounds. Archer might be swifter with his lean frame, but I could overpower him easily with my muscle mass. The familiar dance of dominance between us—as old as time itself.

"Once we find Sierra, I'm going to bend you over the nearest surface and take your ass raw." My lips brushed over his ear and I felt him shudder against me, his pulse jumping beneath my touch. "She's going to love watching it."

Despite his teasing, Archer loved my brand of pleasure. The kind that was laced with pain and blurred the lines between thetwo. The same pleasure I knew Sierra craved, though she'd never admitted it. Soon, very soon, neither of them would be able to deny what they wanted—what they needed—from me.

“I think she’d like that,” Archer rasped, pushing his ass back against my groin.

My fangs elongated with a sharp sting, reminding me of my other hungers—the primal ones that lurked just beneath my carefully constructed veneer of control. The taste of Archer's impending submission lingered on my tongue like a promise. But I had to resist them.

For now.

I pulled away with reluctance burning through my veins, straightening my half-buttoned shirt and running a hand through my thick hair, feeling the strands tangle around my fingers. "Who has her?" I asked, deliberately redirecting the molten heat of my thoughts to where they needed to be. Rescuing Sierra—my Sierra.

The reunion had been a long time coming. Three years, four months, and seventeen days, to be precise. She wasn't going to want to listen to me—she'd spit fire and curses, maybe even try to stab me again like that time in Vancouver—but I'd force her to.

I'd be damned if I let her get away from me again. The universe wasn't generous enough to give second chances, let alone thirds.

"I know that look." Archer narrowed his eyes at me, his stance shifting subtly to one of challenge. The air between us crackled with a familiar tension.

"What look?" I pinned him with a glare just as scathing as his, daring him to voice what we both knew.

"You're the one who left her." His eyebrows rose into his hairline, the scars beneath his jaw stretching with the movement. "But you don't care and you're going to grab her andbring her here after? Aren't you? Classic Rowen—decide what's best for everyone else without asking."

"Fuck you," I grumbled, the words lacking their usual heat. The truth always stung worse than any lie. "Who has her and where is she?"

Archer lets out a sharp exhale and shakes his head, those ice-blue eyes flashing with judgment. "She's still in Arizona, but further outside of Sedona, in the woods. Near that canyon where you two first?—"

My patience was beginning to wear thin at my second in command. "And who has her?" I repeat the second half of my question through clenched teeth, cutting him off before he could resurrect memories I couldn't afford to indulge in. If I were a dragon shifter, smoke would be wafting from my nostrils, scorching everything in sight.

"Flunkies for your brother."

The roar that burst forth from my chest wasn't human—wasn't even demonic. It was something ancient and terrible, something from the darkest part of my soul. It rattled the walls around us like an earthquake. Artwork fell from the wall, frames shattering on impact. The objects on my desk crashed to the floor—parchments, ancient scrolls, a crystal paperweight Sierra had given me that I'd kept hidden in my drawer. When I finished, my breathing still ragged and raw, I surveyed the damage, not caring one bit that I'd trashed another room.

"Callum will have a lot to answer for." I stalked off, my steps leaving scorch marks on the obsidian floor. I yanked open the vault with more force than necessary, grabbing my silver weapons and strapping them to my body—thigh holsters, sheaths at my back, blessed blades that could cut through Fae glamour like it was nothing. I tossed a set of throwing knives at Archer, who caught them with practiced ease. "Let's go before Idestroy this whole realm because of my shithead half brother. If he's harmed even a single silver strand on her head..."

3

Sierra

“Let me go you piece of shit!” I screamed as I rubbed my wrists together, frantically trying to loosen the binds tying them together. It was no use. They had spelled the ties and used some sort of dampening field to dull my magic. Or maybe it was that shit they injected me with.

“Shut up, bitch.” The guy who kidnapped me from my shop reached his arm back, poising to backhand me.

Before his arm could snap forward, a large shadowy figure emerged from the tree line. “We do not strike our guests.” I was not going to think about how his slightly accented voice was deep and rich. And I was not going to mention how it made goosebumps erupt along my arms.