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“T hat’s the great mystery you want to solve about OneWorld?” Dom raised a wineglass to his lips. When he should be pondering how Praevus had kidnapped a human, his attention bullseyed on Madeline.

Could bringing the female to his home get any more fucky? Mora had dropped by for their weekly hook-up. She had been pissed about Madeline. Unless they could do a threesome. Hard no. The human seemed equally peeved about Mora. He’d had to use tact to shoo off the Scourge while not issuing a permanent goodbye since he looked forward to her topping him off on Fridays. Disaster averted. Physical conflict was okay. Even exciting. But Dom hated personal conflict.

Madeline picked up the conversation again. “It’s a starting point. Well? How do wings work with your shirts?” she persisted.

“Wings are not concerned with clothes.” He studied her, puzzled by his fascination with the human. When he saw her showered, his breath had caught in his throat as if he’d slammed into a brick wall at high velocity. And his heart stuttered each time her sky blues peeked at him through thick lashes.

“Not very informative,” she said.

Dom struggled to maintain the thread of conversation. “It is what it is.”

“Let’s back up for a sec. What’s OneWorld?”

“Angor...”

“Where we are.”

He nodded, growling low because he hated to be interrupted. “Vast and Null.”

“Vast I’ve heard of. What’s Null?”

“A boring dimension. No plants. Desert terrain. No weather to speak of unless you count sandstorms. Aren’t you curious about how I can make clothes for you with a snap of my fingers? I don’t even need the hand action. A thought works.”

She shrugged. “That’s pretty great.”

He almost smiled. “Happy to impress you.”

Damn. He was screwed up.

Madeline sniffed the mulled wine before taking a sip. “So, Anger...”

“Angor. With an or .”

Cradling her glass, she swirled the liquid, creating sheets of undulating crimson.

On a physical level, he understood his fascination with the human. She was pretty and had an interesting face showcased by chin-length, choppy blonde hair. The cut made her look tussled after a bout of wild sex but still innocent. His cock stirred, necessitating a shift in his position on the pillow.

Finished studying her wine, she said, “On Earth, I watched news stories about Scath, Darque, and Aeternals. Are they part of this OneWorld? What’s the difference between Immortals and Aeternals?” She tilted her glass to sip. With each swallow, her long neck muscles bobbled.

Dom sighed. “So many questions. First, Aeternals, those beings created by the Immortal goddess Gahya, do not live for an eternity, despite their name. Though once they did, their violence eventually led the OneCreator to infect them with an aging virus. They die from it. And to answer your second question, no. Their realms are on your planet, hidden from your senses, while the Siblings created OneWorld elsewhere.”

“The Siblings? I don’t know about them.” She inched forward on her pillow, attentive.

Dom wasn’t into prolonged conversations with enticing females. They had other uses that didn’t involve so much talking. And yet, with Madeline, he’d been downright chatty. But he had reached his limit. “Too many questions.”

Madeline frowned. “Excuse me. I’m not used to being kidnapped, tortured, and cut loose in a place I know nothing about.”

Damn . He actually saw her point.

“Fair enough.” Not an expert at empathy, he shrugged and tried to imagine what the human had faced, her first encounter with their kind being Praevus. The fear of not knowing where she was. Wandering the streets of Stupool with Scourges. Likely traumatized. Actually, she was handling things well. No crying. No screaming. A tight jaw but not much more on the surface.

He decided to answer her. “The Siblings are the OneCreator, his brother Chaos, and their sisters. Only the OC exists now. The five helped to form the galaxy shared by your planet and the dimensions of OneWorld.”

“Interesting.” After a taste of her wine, she licked her lips, wiggling and settling comfortably in her pillow again. “Praevus said he was a Scourge, but he’d been an Immortal. You’re an Immortal?”

Dom nodded. Overhead, the clouds turned an ominous black. He snapped his fingers, shrouding his home in an invisible shield. When the rain poured from the sky, they were protected.

Madeline cast her gaze upward, smiling. “Handy.” She returned her attention to him. “Go on.”

“A Scourge is...” How to explain? “...my kind gone bad.” Dom followed the path of her tongue across her kissable mouth.

“Does Immortal mean you never die? Unlike Aeternals who do?”

“Yes. Though six of us can extinct others.”

“Extinct?”

Dom chuffed. So much talk. “Send them into non-existence.” It sounded better than kill .

“You kill them?”

Fuck.

She saw through his euphemism. Smart. “In a way, but I also give them peace.”

Madeline squinted, her gaze penetrating. “Otherwise, your kind can’t be killed.”

He nodded, though it wasn’t a question.

“What if you’re chopped into tiny pieces?”

Dom canted his neck, speaking matter-of-factly. “The parts rejoin.”

“Hmm. What if you’re blown to smithereens?”

“From a surviving particle, we will regenerate, but it could take millennia and be quite painful. Unfortunately, sentience regenerates first. If recovery will be too long or too unbearable, the OneCreator gives the Immortal the choice of extinction.”

Dom sank further into his cushion, relaxing. This talking shit wasn’t as hard as he’d thought.

“Do you all have wings?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Parents?”

“Not as you think of them. The OneCreator gives us life. Afterward, we hang out in a haven until we are mature. Then we go forth.” Talk of havens always brought unwanted memories of Gareth. He shoved them aside.

“What’s a haven?”

“A nursery. A group home. A nurturing environment until maturity. Don’t you want to rest quietly for a while?”

“Not really. The news said the man who saved Earth, Ohngel, was an Immortal.”

Ohngel again. “He is. He’s like me. A winged assassin of the OneCreator. We’re also called the Feard.” They had been five, but after Gareth, they were now four.

“And you extinct bad guys like Praevus?”

“Yes.”

“He isn’t dead. Did you screw up?”

“The OC deems some Scourges can get back onto the straight and narrow.”

“Big mistake in Praevus’s case. When are you taking me home?”

Dom scrubbed a fist across his jaw. “If you keep asking so many questions, never. I’ll be too tired.”

“Funny.”

He grinned. “I’m rarely accused of having a sense of humor.”

She studied him, tilting her head to the side as if trying to understand what made him tick. “Perhaps your friends can’t see behind your frown. Will you return me to St. Louis soon?”

“When I’m certain you’re okay.”

“How will you know?”

“I’ll observe and ask certain questions.”

“Start quizzing. Let’s get this over with.” She held out her glass for a refill.

Dom rose to fetch the bottle. He tipped it, poured from it, and set it on the table. After kicking off his boots, he stripped his socks from his feet. Flopping into a cushion, he twisted onto his side and rested his cheek in his palm, elbows deep in the pillow. “What do you remember about how you got here?”

She fluffed the pillow at her back. “I’m a librarian in St. Louis, where I specialize in research.” She paused. “I help find answers to questions.”

Dom grinned, getting more comfortable with his lips curling. “Fitting labor. You’re good at asking them.”

“Occupational hazard. Anyway, it was quitting time. I exchanged my heels for winter boots and grabbed my purse. My purse.” She glanced around as if it would pop up beside her. “Somebody probably picked it up. My credit cards and driver’s license are in it. A thief could be charging stuff right now.”

She waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Oh, well. After I closed up, I walked home. Since it was freezing cold, I wore a long, heavy coat. Because I scrunched into it to stay warm, I didn’t see where I was going. A man bumped into me when I crossed the street. He grabbed me.” She swallowed a large gulp of wine. “Then nothing until I woke up in the warehouse tied to a wall. No. That’s not true. I think I was somewhere else first. I remember a woman.” She pressed a palm to her head. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

Dom leaned toward the human, his nostrils quivering with her scent. “Describe the female.”

“I can’t. I’m not even sure it happened.”

“Okay. We’ll skip that for now. What did Praevus do to you?”

“I recall little about the first warehouse where I woke up other than it smelled bad. Later, Praevus cut the ropes and flew me to another place. Then things got weird.” She snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth before continuing. “I mean, weirder.”

“How so?”

“He sat close to me, touching my cheek or forehead. When he did, I’d get these horrible headaches. They lasted until he stopped. Afterward, he seemed tired, but he kept coming back.”

“How many times?”

“Maybe four. I know this is crazy, but I could swear he was fiddling inside my mind.”

Dom studied Madeline. Other than clenching her jaw, she looked normal. What was normal for a human, though? The little experience he had with the species was millennia ago. “He’s a Mind Rat. He can get into your head.”

Madeline pressed a hand to her heart, her breaths short, choppy. “Why would he want to?”

“It’s his sickness. He gets perverse pleasure from rummaging around in your brain.”

Her shoulders sagged. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“You aren’t showing symptoms, though.”

“Symptoms of what?”

Dom shrugged. “Of any permanent damage.”

Madeline set her empty glass on the table. “Silver lining.”

“How did you escape?” Dom threw back his wine.

“The last time I woke, I was untied. Once I talked myself into doing something other than sitting on my ass or bawling in the corner, I risked going outside.”

“Brave.”

“What choice did I have? If I’d stayed, Praevus could have returned. Why did he want me? Was I a random victim on National Grab-a-human Day?”

“I don’t know. How he got you is also puzzling.” Dom swiped a hand across his chin. “Scourges can’t leave Angor. Means he had a partner. Maybe the female you kinda remember. Someone capable of traveling to Earth and back here.”

“Can just any Immortal fly to Earth and then here?”

“Most. Is there anything else you recall?”

When she shook her head, her stomach growled.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good. Maybe you won’t talk so much when your mouth’s full.”

“Rude.”

“Truthful.” Even though he was getting the hang of chatting, talking was not how he wanted to pass the time with the female. He’d never heard of an Immortal fucking a human. Could the experience kill them? Was he willing to take a chance? Probably. He’d sent Mora on her way, but he needed a fix. Sex would settle his mind. It always did. Dom didn’t like to overthink situations. Yet here he was.

Trying to erase thoughts of the alluring female, he ignored her to reach out to the OC. Again. His reply? Busy, adding, Shut the fuck up for a while. Ohngel, Remi, and Ely had nothing valuable to report.

“The kitchen,” Dom snapped to Madeline. Damn . First Angor tour guide. Now chef. The human was disquieting. Immortals didn’t fuck Gabriel’s Homo sapiens . Yet, he had a troubling desire to strip off Madeline’s t-shirt and trap her under his body.

Not happening.

She followed him, her footfalls soft on the stone flooring.

With his head in the fridge, he grabbed a Bolognese from the other day. After slamming two pans onto the stovetop, he poured the sauce into one. In the other, he put water on to boil for pasta. Television cooking shows were popular with Immortals. They were Dom’s favorite, along with crime dramas.

Lucky for Madeline, this dish was his specialty. Since comforting words weren’t his thing, he hoped a typical home-cooked meal would soothe her. Opening the bread drawer, he chose a baguette bought from a boulangerie in Vast. Sliced it. Buttered it. Sprinkled on garlic salt. Sprinkled on extra. Maybe bad breath would keep him from ravaging the human temptation.

He shoved the bread in the oven and opened a package of fresh spaghetti. Under her watchful eyes, he set out plates. Wine . He grabbed another red. Uncorking it, he filled glasses. For some reason, he was nervous. He never felt this way when his Feard brothers dropped by for dinner, which they did since he was the best cook of the lot. Why was he on edge with the human female?

Seeing a clean Madeline perched on a stool did nothing to temper his desires or deflate his dick. She continued to pose while he served the pasta on plates, placing one in front of her. Finally, he opened the oven to remove the garlic bread.

She stared at her food. “You cook? Can’t you just ... I don’t know ... snap up some dinner?”

He nodded, taking the stool beside her and picking up his fork. “I can, but the experience lacks joy.”

When he saw her hesitate, he said, “The food’s safe.” He twirled his utensil in the spaghetti and shoved it into his mouth. “See? No poison. No drugs. No foaming.”

She rearranged her silverware—knife and spoon on the right, fork on the left—before sampling a bite. Then, apparently convinced he was truthful, Madeline shoveled spaghetti through her open lips. Fast, her utensil whipping back and forth while she studied him.

Dom held her gaze. Finally, she set her fork on an empty plate. “Sorry. I was hungry. I didn’t eat much of what Praevus gave me. I didn’t trust it.”

“How long do you think you were alone before you woke up and escaped?”

“It’s all foggy. Maybe a day. Maybe more.” She fiddled with the napkin on her lap.

They fell into a companionable silence as he continued to eat. She watched each bite he took. Dom finished off his spaghetti and dragged large chunks of garlic bread through the sauce.

She eyed the empty bread plate.

“I can make more,” he said.

Madeline pressed a hand to her stomach. “Thanks, but no. I’ve had too much.”

“Let’s go back to the salon. We’ll finish off the wine there.” Dom pushed off his stool.

Madeline’s gaze swung around the kitchen. “The dishes.”

“Later.”

She wrinkled her nose. “We should do them now.”

“You almost face-planted in your dinner. Would have if you hadn’t been giving your fork so much action. You need to rest. The dishes will wait.”

She glanced back at the messy kitchen.

“Okay.” He snapped his fingers. Dishes clean. Stacked in the cabinet. Utensils, the same. Pots and pans done.

She smiled. “Now, don’t you feel better?”

He didn’t care but nodded to make her happy as they returned to the salon. Dom flopped onto several pillows, lazing, one knee bent as he sipped his wine, enjoying the hissing, sparking fire. From here, he could see the first light of dawn creeping over the horizon. Maybe it would be sunnier and warmer today, the weather less changeable. Probably not.

Madeline angled forward, blurting, “I’ve decided to trust you.”

Dom faced her, a slight smile curling his lips. “I’m ecstatic. Can’t tell you how relieved that makes me.”

“I’ve also decided you’re a bit of an ass.”

“Good judge of character.”

He stared into the fire for some time until he heard soft snuffling sounds from Madeline, a very female-like snore. She was sprawled across two plush pillows, one leg collapsed to the side and her shirt riding up her abdomen. His breath hitched. Her skin was pale and smooth. Leaning toward her, he stretched out an arm to touch her but pulled back. No . He wouldn’t do that.

Distance .

The human lacked the artifice of females in Vast or the overt sexuality of those in Angor. Dom enjoyed the gender. Hence, Mora. They scratched an itch, but he didn’t allow their claws to sink into his flesh. He didn’t even spend the night, and neither did they. No kissing. No cuddling. No talking about the future. No getting to know each other. Get serviced. Get the hell away.

Lost in the blazing light of the fire, he thought through everything Madeline had told him. Who wanted a human librarian in this dimension? Who was capable of traveling to Earth and returning to Angor? Who was the female in cahoots with Praevus?

Using telepathy, he reached out to Ely. Got anything on our Mind Rat?

Rumor says he’s been excused from the Ordeals.

Dom propped his feet on a pillow, still eying Madeline. Do ya know why that would be?

Not at all.

After a mental hang-up, he contacted Remi. Any news on Praevus?

Just a source saying he was exempt from Ordeals.

Heard that from Ely. The OC is not taking my calls. I’m gonna visit in the flesh.

After touching all the bases, he rose from the floor and scooped Madeline off the pillows, cradling her in his arms.

She mumbled something incoherent as her head rolled onto his chest, where her small hand stroked him.

He strode into his bedroom, pulling back the covers on his bed. He could have taken her to the guest room but didn’t. Instead, he gentled her onto his silky sheets and spread a light blanket over her legs.

Despite his caution, she awoke. She jerked upright, her eyes wide with fear. “Dom, what are you doing?”

“Nothing. I have a task, but I won’t be long. You can walk around the house, though I advise sleep. If you do wake up, stay inside. You’re safe here because my home is warded against intruders. No one will get in. Do I have your word?”

“You’re certain nobody can enter?”

He nodded.

“Not even Mora?”

“Correct. Will you stay inside?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Now, sleep. If you wake, the house or anything in it is yours.”

She grinned. “Including you?”

His heart beat faster. “Why would you want a hardened asshole like me?”

Madeline blushed. “Ignore me. I must be exhausted. When I’m sleepy, my mouth crosses the finish line before my good sense. My sisters always said I was smart but needed to slow my words until my brain caught up.”

Dom ignored her explanation. “I won’t be long.”

She yawned. “I’ll probably still be snoozing by the time you return.”

He almost threaded his fingers through her silky hair.

What the fuck am I doing?

Instead of leaving the room, he leaned against the bedroom door jamb to stare at Madeline. She had rolled over and curled into a ball, nodding off to sleep once more. Emotions bubbled up inside him. He didn’t like them. He’d suppressed feelings for so long. Detachment was his comfort zone.

While he watched, his dispassionate self retreated. That’s how he thought of it. His alter ego. The him-but-not-him.

He’d allowed this indifferent alter ego to run his life after Gareth. It refused to make new friends, even keeping his brother Feard at arms’ length. He figured the farther away they were, the less likely he would suffer if they turned Scourge and he had to extinct them. The him-but-not-him was the better killer. It wasn’t the prankster. It didn’t laugh much, and it followed orders without question.

Now, this human female threatened his detachment. She was a light in his dark world, but he craved the stormy night skies, the shadows, and the dim corridors. They protected his heart. Never again would he leave it unguarded.

Dom turned from the doorway to trudge into the salon, where he jammed on his boots and shrugged into the him-but-not-him persona. Snapping his fingers, he extinguished the flames in the fireplace. Then, fully dressed, his sword in its sheath, two knives strapped to hip holsters, his alter ego in control, he soared out the roof and sped toward his destination. Best to keep things real.