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A few days later, Madeline watched Dom take to the air, his black wings disappearing against a dark cloud. He’d said he needed flight time, soaring into the sky as fast as possible. Missing him already but acknowledging her obsession with the guy, she reminded herself she was a Syc.

How much of what she felt for this too-serious Immortal was real?

Maddy stroked a finger across her lips. She’d kissed Dom before he left. And he’d responded. She hadn’t imagined his soft lips, his tongue stroking hers when she opened her mouth to let him in. But suddenly he’d jerked away.

Ouch. Burned.

Dom’s friends had defined Sycophancy. Her actions fit the description. Life had not taught her to deny reality. So, what to do?

She struggled with these new impulses. Sometimes she was successful, and sometimes she wasn’t. She and Dom had traded furtive glances, warm touches, and flirtatious comments. Yet, he didn’t act on any of his obvious urges. And she practiced control of her unnatural response to him.

But as she watched the black-winged assassin turn into a dark dot and disappear in the sky, she clasped a hand over her heart. Her attraction to him was more complicated than Praevus’s tangled wires in her head.

None of her relationships with boyfriends in St. Louis had been long-lasting. The guys had never been a perfect fit. They were nice, nerdy types, pencil pushers, well-educated, quiet men. But Dom, who was powerful enough to crush her with a thought, was not human. He possessed an almost cruel masculinity. Oddly, it appealed to her.

Damn . She was way out of her league.

Now, Maddy could almost tell when she slipped into Syc-think. One sure sign was that she would stumble when reciting parts of the Dewey Decimal Classification System. Another was hazy eyes. Dom had told her about that physical characteristic. So, she visited the mirror often.

She’d begun to think of herself as having dual personalities. Syc and Sane. Two women. When Syc, she scrubbed floors, rewashed clothes in Dom’s closet, and cooked or baked. She avoided falling to her knees to worship at his feet. And her brain was fuzzy.

When Sane, she was clear-headed.

At this moment she was un-muddled. Wanting Dom was real. Her attempt to give him a blowjob the other day, even though it was because of Praevus’s machinations, had triggered feelings for the man—strong desires that manifested whether she was Syc or Sane.

With all the thoughts tumbling through her head, a voice from outside made her jump.

At the bottom of the steps leading to an expansive lawn was a dog. No . Too big. A wolf. His thick brown fur was streaked with golden highlights in the fading light. Madeline stared, hoping Dom’s wards kept out feral animals.

The animal cocked his head to the side. “Who are you?” he asked, his ears stiff points.

Maddy’s mouth dropped. Instead of backing away, she inched closer, wrapping an arm around a marble column. “You’re talking. I didn’t imagine it.”

“Of course I am. Do you think I’m stupid?”

She shook her head. Slowly to the left. Right. “No.” Unlike some zoologists who wrote about the behavior of animals, she believed they exhibited thought. But she never believed they could talk. They didn’t have the correct anatomical parts. Yet this wolf was speaking.

“Again. Who are you? I hate repeating myself.” His ears flattened to his head.

“Madeline.”

“Could you be a bit more forthcoming, Madeline? I am hungry.”

As his ears flicked up and down, she said, “Where I come from, wolves don’t talk.”

“Which is where?” He lowered his head, his bright golden eyes fixed on her.

“Earth.”

“That explains your odd behavior.” He loped up the steps and into the salon, his long, fluffy tale twitching. A foot away from her, he lowered onto his haunches. “I’m a wolver. A prototype for your wolves. The OneCreator made my kind but left out the good parts when he sprinkled similar beings across your Earth.”

Madeline drew a deep breath. She had to think about that later. For now, she worried about the wards. “Dom said nothing could get inside the house.”

“Since the black-winged assassin is not too stupid, he likely said ‘no one’ could get inside. I fall outside the ‘no one’ label.

“Uh-huh. He said, ‘no intruders’ also.” Was she arguing with a wolf?

“Not an intruder either. I’m a friend. And do not ever call me a pet.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Why did the OneCreator leave out talking when he put wolves on Earth?”

Ignoring her, the creature paced the room, finally stopping near the kitchen entrance. “Hop to it, Earther. A bowl of water and chow.”

Madeline nodded, racing into the kitchen. Flinging open cabinets, she withdrew two bowls, filling one with water. For the second, she opened the fridge to peek inside. “Do you have a name?”

“Of course I have a name. Freki.”

I don’t believe I’m talking to a wolf ... wolver.

“Do you have a favorite food, Freki?”

The creature paused from lapping up water. “Dom usually keeps a package on the third shelf for me.”

“Got it.” She removed the raw meat, chopping it into what she believed were bite-size pieces. She placed that bowl beside the other on the floor. Pulling out a kitchen chair, she watched him eat. Since he’d avoided her question, she asked again, “Why did the OneCreator omit talking in Earth’s wolves?”

Finished, Freki smacked his mouth, returning to stare at her. “He said we were annoying. I can’t imagine. If so, it’s his problem. Where’s Dom?”

“Do other animals in Angor talk?”

“Very few. The OC claims he saw the error of his ways. He can be a smartass. Dom?”

“He’s out flying around, clearing his head.”

“Ah. When he gets home, ask him what the fuck all those gryphons are doing in my meadow.”

“They could belong to the witch Indigo.” Surreal . She was talking to a wolf. No . To a wolver about a witch. Life had thrown her a curve. She hated curve balls. She wanted her predictable life back. No talking wolvers. No Immortals with wings. No OneCreator. Maddy had worked hard to make her life stable and predictable. She’d purchased a condo. Had a rewarding job. Set routines to keep her mentally healthy. Her situation now was far from healthy.

Her shoulders sagged. Was she lying to herself? Did she really want a life with Dom, messy or not? Maddy drew a deep breath. No. No. She needed conventional, humdrum.

Freki pounced down the steps and loped away. She stared until he pranced out of sight.

Where was she? Yes . Missing Dom. No . Missing her normal life.

Since, for the moment, she was clinging to lucidity, she wanted to read the books on Sycophancy. She was ready to face her problem head on and find a solution so she could go home. Dom said he’d laid out a collection from his study and from Angor’s library.

When she opened the door to his office, she gasped. It was a massive room with floor-to-ceiling shelves on three sides. On the fourth wall was a fireplace with two comfy chairs and a small table in front of it. Perfect for reading.

But a mental alarm sounded when she perused the spines of the beautiful, ancient, leather-bound books in the library. They were arranged on the shelves haphazardly, no thought to any order. Maddy knew her future task. Though she itched to begin the job immediately, she wiped the idea from her mind. But how could she concentrate in such a chaotic environment? Easy . She gathered the books Dom had placed on the gleaming mahogany desk and raced into the salon.

She stacked the research material near floor pillows in front of the fireplace.

After brewing a pot of coffee, she poured a cup, adding one level teaspoon of sugar. Once she settled into the cushions with her mug beside her, she rested the nearest book in her lap and began her research.

Consulting the table of contents, she scanned for information on Sycophants. The first book had only a few pages, which detailed what she already knew. Grabbing another, she found a longer entry. Madeline read, committing the information to memory. Once she had absorbed chapters in five books, she set them aside to review the facts while she sipped her coffee.

Sycophancy brought on by Mind Rats was not good. Their Immortal prey became mindless creatures who lived only for their obsession. They waited on what they called their masters and followed all wishes or commands, even second-guessing to please them. At best, they were sex objects, enforcers, or maids. At worst, they waited mindlessly in corners for their next command, unable to act without an order.

She’d read about skilled Rats who could plant triggers. These unique commands, as the book had called them, varied. Her delayed response to Sycophancy could be one trigger and the transference of her obsession to Dom could be another.

Without the Mind Rat present to maintain the compulsions, most Sycs healed. Most. Not all. While some took weeks or months to overcome the obsessions, others took years, centuries, or longer.

The books documented only Immortals. None mentioned humans, for whom the symptoms would surely be more devastating, taking longer to heal or never healing.

Sinking deeper into the cushions, Madeline closed her eyes to think, hating that her actions were no longer her own. Instead, her damaged brain controlled them. Her situation was worse than her childhood had been. A psychiatrist had once told her the behaviors she’d learned in her youth had served her well. But no longer, he’d said. She had to develop positive behaviors rather than keep the extreme survival ones. So, rather than accept chaos, she had ordered her life, creating new behaviors.

How did Dom figure into this nightmare? Was he only an obsession planted by Praevus, or was he more? With absolute certainty, she knew he was more. Maybe it was Syc-think that had made her try to go down on him, but the desire was genuine. And she knew he wanted her, but since he thought she didn’t have control over her actions, he nobly rejected her.

Madeline shot upright. Having once fought hard to control her actions and surroundings, she’d beaten the odds. She’d do it again. This shit was not going to take her down. And it wouldn’t keep her from having a relationship with Dom.

If she wanted one. If he wanted one.

The silent declaration cleared her head, reinforcing a temporary freedom from Praevus’s wiles.

Madeline refused to give up or give in.

Tired of reading, she set aside the books and scrubbed the kitchen floor, fluffed all the pillows in the salon twice, organized Dom’s closet, polished his boots, and then sat in a corner with her knees bent and her arms clasped around them as she pined for her assassin. She was having a Syc moment. A very long-lasting moment. Her obsession with Dom drove all other thoughts from her head.

Where was he? What did he want her to do? How could she please him?

She was a ping-pong ball at the mercy of the players.

Ping, I’m Syc. Pong, I’m Sane.