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MAX FOUGHT the familiar haze of drugs in his system until he could open his eyes.

The room was bright with light, so he hoped he hadn’t lost too much time, but the lack of pain beneath the cottony fog wrapped around his body shattered that hope.

With a groan, he rolled his head to the side, blinking at the unfamiliar nightstand and clock telling him it was late afternoon.

There was a glass of water there, and he immediately fumbled for it.

His fingers wrapped around it, sliding in the condensation.

When he tried to lift it, the glass slipped free, clattering to the nightstand before toppling to the floor.

No. He rolled over, trying to catch it even though he knew it was too late, a sob of frustration threatening to make him hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, whoa.”

Max flinched from the unfamiliar voice, flopping on the bed and nearly following the glass to the floor before hands caught him and eased him back.

“Hey, easy, you’re safe. I’ll get you a fresh glass.”

He squinted blearily at the stranger, at the deep red hair he was sure was dyed and the bright hazel eyes beneath. The grin was strange. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had directed anything more than a leer at him.

Before he could ask where he was, the man was gone, disappearing out a door and thundering down a set of stairs.

Max stared at the door a moment before sitting up, grunting as he collapsed against the headboard to catch his breath.

His body ached, but he was sure he didn’t have a concussion despite the lingering tenderness on the side of his head, and his ribs didn’t feel cracked.

When he looked at his hand, his last two fingers were taped together, but he could move them, and they definitely weren’t broken anymore.

He knew he hadn’t imagined the sharp pain of them breaking beneath a bootheel or three, and he highly doubted any doctor would put him in a medical coma for some broken bones.

The only way he could have healed this quickly was with magic, but that was as unlikely as a coma for the same reason. Mage healers tended to be expensive.

What the hell happened? And where was he?

He’d fully expected his father to kill him.

That’s what the bastard had wanted ever since Max failed the year of conversion therapy he’d been forced through.

Most likely even before then. He knew he should have at least pretended, but he couldn’t give up the sick twist of satisfaction every time he pissed his father off by the simple act of existing.

He knew how fucked-up that was, but he blamed it one-hundred-percent on his family.

Footsteps on the stairs drew his attention back to the door, but instead of the redhead, the man with salt-and-pepper hair he’d glimpsed at his father’s table stepped into the room. And damn, he was even more attractive without the concussion muddling everything.

“Am I your hostage?” he asked, because that was the only sensible conclusion. This man had kidnapped him right from under his father. Or bought him. Honestly, that sounded more likely, all things considered.

The man paused, studying him with a frown before offering a glass of water. “Not exactly.”

“Shame,” he said, blaming the drugs for his absolute lack of a filter.

And the fact he wasn’t freaking out. Maybe he did have a concussion.

Or he’d reached the limit of fucks he could give.

Either way, he took the glass and sipped the cool water, hiding his smug amusement at the perturbed expression on the man’s face.

If there was one thing he’d learned well, it was to make everyone else more uneasy than he was. Especially kidnappers.

The man cleared his throat, retrieved a chair from a desk across the room, placed it beside the bed, and sat. “My name is Caius Ward. I bought you from your father when he was going to kill you.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said, not bothering to tone down the sarcasm. “I’d so much rather be a sex slave than dead.” Nice fantasy, maybe, but not so much something he wanted to actually experience.

“You’re not a sex slave.” Caius eyed him like he wasn’t sure whether Max was joking.

Which was fair; Max wasn’t quite sure himself. His head was a little fuzzy, and his entire body felt hot and tight like he was feverish. “Then why did you bring me here?”

“Why don’t you tell me why you were running? ”

Max returned the narrow-eyed look and sipped more water, wishing it had ice and lemon in it, but he knew how useful wishing was.

Caius didn’t strike him as a mob boss. He’d met plenty of goons and crime lords, and most had a sleazy edge to them.

Maybe it was the jeans and sweater rather than an expensive, ill-fitting suit, but Caius looked like someone respectable.

Not that Max could trust his instincts. He’d trusted Jake, after all. The fact that Jake was one of the few people he’d fooled around with made that lapse of judgment so much worse.

But if Caius had really bought him, and even spent the money on an actual mage healer, he probably wouldn’t kill Max.

He still wasn’t convinced this wasn’t some kind of sex slave thing, but at least he had one advantage here when he finally made his escape: Caius knew absolutely nothing about him or where he’d go when he made a run for it.

“I overheard my father planning an arranged marriage,” he finally said.

He expected some kind of ridicule, but Caius tilted his head and kept silent.

“To Dr. Rena Schurz. She’s the head scientist at Magierseele .

” Magesoul, the largest entity dedicated to all things magical aside from the Order itself.

Despite the fact few mages actually worked there, they offered new products several times a year.

“I looked her up, thinking maybe I could convince her to help me get away from here.” Max slid his thumb through the condensation on his glass.

“All the rumors I found made her sound like some mad scientist from Nazi Germany. Human experiments, genetics and shit. Her grandmother was supposedly doing it too, during the war. Helga something. There’s no proof, but I’m pretty sure she’s on the government payroll. ”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Caius murmured.

Max jerked his head up. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I’m undecided. But the government has always been interested in enhancing humans, even before the forties. There’s rumors the military managed to make their own mages, but all the documents are sealed.”

“And you know this how?”

“Up until a few months ago, I was a colonel in the Marines.”

At least his instincts were right about the respectable thing. Unless Caius had been court-martialed or something. “Uh-huh. And what could a colonel possibly want with a mob boss’ son? ”

Caius tilted his head, tapping his thumb against his knee as if choosing his words. Max was about to tell him to spit it out when Caius said, “You’re a mage.”

Max laughed. “Okay, Hagrid.” When Caius looked at him in confusion, Max rolled his eyes.

“Too old for Harry Potter, got it,” he muttered.

“Look, I don’t know who told you I was a mage, but I’m not.

I certainly never Sparked as a kid.” He would have burned down his father’s house before making his first escape attempt if he had.

“You Sparked after you passed out.”

Max shook his head. No way in hell had he Sparked.

He’d know if he was a mage. He sipped his water again, grimacing at the too warm temperature.

Seriously, would it have killed them to give him some ice?

He set the glass on the nightstand and tossed back part of the blanket, sighing in relief at the cool air.

“Sorry you wasted your money, but I’m not a mage. But you can make the kidnapping up to me by getting me a one-way ticket to Japan.” He paused as he realized he was dressed in only a pair of boxers and a loose T-shirt that wasn’t his. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”

“They were filthy and covered in blood.”

Max looked up in time to see Caius give him a slow once-over, which should have been a red flag, but there was no leer that usually followed.

He started to pull the covers back over himself, but it was too hot for that.

“Why is it a hundred degrees in here?” He threw the covers off completely and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Dizziness swept over him, and the next thing he knew, he was pressed against Caius’ chest and floating through the air, only to land in a bathtub with cold water raining down on him.

He slumped with a soft groan of relief, but it was short-lived.

The scent of smoke caught his attention enough he looked at his hands and froze.

Tiny bright orange flames danced around his fingers, sizzling and hissing as the water hit them before flickering back to life.

“What the fuck.” This wasn’t real. He shook his hands out, but the flames clung to him as if glued there.

No. No, no, nonono. This couldn’t be real. He was twenty-two years old. Mages always Sparked by fifteen at the latest. There was no way in hell he was a mage.

Before Max could start hyperventilating, Caius gripped the back of his neck and shoved him forward until his head was between his knees.

“Fuck,” Max gasped, coughing as he forced a deep breath into his lungs. “ Fuck .”

“Believe it now?”

“No.” If he closed his eyes and pretended really hard, he could wake up from this, right? Because if his father found out he was a mage, even running to Japan wouldn’t save him. “This can’t be happening to me.” As if his life wasn’t enough of a nightmare.

“You need to come to terms with this soon. I can only hide you from the Order for so long.”