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T he hours until midnight passed with agonizing slowness.

Olivier showed Adric to a large, comfortable apartment, but refused to answer any questions before locking him inside.

By then he was lightheaded from the iron poisoning his blood.

He found salt in the kitchen, peeled off his shirt and cleansed the wounds as best as he could.

The burns on his hands and arms had almost healed, but the knife wound on his chest seared like a red-hot brand.

The salt solution burned almost as much as the iron itself, but he grit his teeth and rinsed the cut flesh repeatedly, then pulsed healing energy into it until the wound scabbed over.

He paced into the living room and sank onto a pricey antique couch.

Thrice-damned, fucking fae.

Langdon’s sick bastard of a son had pushed Adric until he had no choice but to fight back—and the prince had the balls to blame him?

Worse, Marjani wasn’t any safer from Langdon than she’d been before this all started, and now Rosana was enmeshed in this fucked-up mess, too.

His mate .

His claws pricked out. With a snarl, he slashed them through the couch’s blue velvet cushions, sending stuffing flying around him.

Kill , hissed the cat.

Destroy.

Protect the mate.

He jumped to his feet and prowled feverishly from room to room, searching for a way out. The apartment was windowless, and the only exit wasn’t just locked, it was warded, because when he tried the door handle, it buzzed warningly in his hand.

He was trapped again. Just in a larger cage.

With a low growl, he took a gilded chair from the dining room and smashed it against the heavy wood door, again and again, until it lay in broken shards at his feet.

He stared down at the pieces, chest heaving, and then resumed his restless pacing, half-cat, half-man.

Burning up from the iron poisoning. Furious at being confined. Terrified for Rosana.

A half hour passed, maybe more, with him only half aware of his surroundings.

When he surfaced again, he was in the opulent black marble bathroom.

He set his hands on the counter. In the large round mirror, his cougar’s fiery blue eyes stared back. His fangs had lengthened, his claws fully extended to their two-inch-plus length. At some point he’d ripped off his shirt, and his pants were unbuttoned as if he’d started to remove them as well.

He hadn’t come this close to losing control of his animal since his dad had been executed by Leron.

He drew a breath and then shrank his fangs, retracted the claws. His eyes changed back to bronze with just a few slivers of blue.

At least he hadn’t reopened the wound on his chest. But his face was flushed with fever, his breath coming in rapid pants.

Sticking his head under the faucet, he took a long drink to flush the iron from his system. Then he got in the shower, scrubbing off the stench of the cell. He ignored the razor on the ledge with the shampoo and soap. Let Langdon see the rough-edged, dangerous animal he was dicking around with.

By the time he got out, his fever had receded. He felt weak but clear-headed again.

He dressed in the clean clothes he found laid out in the master bedroom and began a methodical search for a weapon. But the apartment held nothing that would damage a fae.

Food appeared in the dining room. A fat, juicy hamburger. Thick-sliced fries. Spicy coleslaw and a frosty glass of beer.

His skin creeped. How did they know his favorite meal? But he ate, even though it galled him to accept food from Langdon. He’d need fuel for the coming confrontation.

Belly full, he resumed his restless pacing, increasingly anxious to see Rosana. At least he sensed through the bond that she was healing, growing stronger.

He would break them both out of here. He was damned if he’d submit tamely to whatever Langdon had planned.

But without a weapon, it was up to his cougar.

Yes… hissed the cat.

His claws slid out again. He stared down at the wicked curved nails. Maybe he couldn’t kill Langdon, but he could do some serious damage. That should buy him enough time to grab Rosana and then cloak them both so he could spirit her out of New Moon.

Langdon might be able to sense Adric’s location with those Spidey-senses of his, but Adric would bet his entire collection of quartz that the prince couldn’t actually see him. Get Rosana away from Langdon, and the two of them would have a fighting chance at escape.

If the wards let us out.

Adric had always known he might not get out of New Moon alive, but it had been a chance he was willing to take. Now, though, he had Rosana to consider.

His mate.

His jaw set. Failure was not an option. He would extricate her from this mess, or die trying.

That decided, he curled up onto the undamaged couch to wait for midnight. Not sleeping, but resting in the way of his cat with ears wide open.

The moment he heard footsteps in the hall outside, he was up and springing across the room. He kicked the remains of the chair out of the way and waited impatiently for the lock to disengage before jerking the door open.

Olivier took in the damage with a pained look and then gestured for Adric to follow him. “If you’ll come with me, my lord.”

Adric grabbed his arm. “Where’s Rosana?”

“Right here, my lord.” The butler led him around a corner before opening another door.

Rosana stood there, legs braced apart, claws out. At the sight of Adric, she broke into a smile and retracted the claws.

He shoved past Olivier to pull her into his arms. “You’re okay?” He ran his hands over her. “How do you feel? Should you be out of the water?”

“I’m fine.” She touched his cheek. “What about you?”

“I’m good.” His hands trembled as he cupped her face. “But I was worried. About you. I—” His throat worked.

Worried was too tame a word for how he’d felt, but Rosana seemed to understand. She rose on her toes to brush her lips over his. “I’m okay. Really.”

She was. He could see it, scent it. He breathed a prayer of thanks to the gods and pressed kisses to her eyes, her cheeks, her throat.

He’d almost lost her.

He had to touch her. Taste her. Assure himself she was really okay.

Olivier coughed.

Adric growled without lifting his head.

Oliver cleared his throat. “The prince—”

“Can fucking wait.”

Adric pressed a last kiss to Rosana’s soft mouth and released her. This time, he registered the sassy little purple dress. He swallowed hard. “Damn. You look beautiful.”

The short, sleeveless design showed off her toned arms and legs, and dipped low over her full breasts. Her hair had been braided into a single inky plait, and like him, she was barefoot.

His mouth quirked. That was his Rosana, ready for anything.

Mate , the cat whispered in satisfaction.

“They took my other clothes,” she said with a shrug.

He fingered her amethyst pendant. It was warm, the crystals humming a contented tune. And the sea-green thread was back in his own quartz.

Mate.

This time, he didn’t even try to fight it. No, he welcomed it.

He snaked an arm around her waist. “You’re beautiful—and you’re mine. Don’t forget that for a fucking minute.”

“I think that’s the key,” she whispered in his ear. “You and me, together.” She inclined her head at Olivier like the alpha’s sister she was. “You may take us to the prince now.”

They followed the butler down another corridor and into a hall of ornate black mirrors half-covered by the lush ivy which snaked over the walls.

Rosana glanced at her reflection and jerked.

Adric halted. “What?”

“I see Dion and your sister,” she said in an excited whisper. “And Cleia, and Merry’s uncle, Jace. In the woods.”

His brows shot up. “Together?”

“Yes.” She pointed to a point on the black glass. “And there—I can see night fae lairs through the trees. They must be here—in Virginia.”

Olivier spoke directly behind them. “I believe they’ve been in negotiations with the prince.”

Adric’s stomach dipped. “Marjani, too?”

“So I hear,” the butler replied. “However, I haven’t been privy to the discussions.”

Adric glared at the mirror, but all he saw were their three reflections. “She wasn’t supposed to get anywhere near the prince,” he growled.

“Come,” Olivier said impatiently.

“Think, Adric,” Rosana murmured as they followed the butler. “Your sister and Jace aren’t here alone. She’s with Cleia and my brothers. You’re not alone. You have all of us fighting on your side. This changes everything.”

“It’s too dangerous,” he bit back. “She knows it’s her the prince really wants.”

“Oh, Adric. Do you think that matters to her? How do you think she’d feel if you died because of her?”

He shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Marjani was right outside New Moon. The prince must be rubbing his hands in glee.

But a part of him couldn’t help be warmed that she and Jace had come after him. And probably Fane—the man wouldn’t allow Marjani to get this close to Langdon without him. Hell, there were probably some other Baltimore fada skulking around in the woods, too.

His step hitched. Every hair on his body raised. Even his scalp lifted.

Rosana had been right all along.

Her being here changed everything.

As they followed Olivier up the last flight of stairs to the outside, Rosana took Adric’s hand. The fae-tailored clothes—a deep green button-up shirt and black pants—outlined every muscle on his hard body. His face was stubbled with night-beard, his eyes a flat bronze.

Mated.

Despite the danger they were in, a delicious shiver went up Rosana’s spine. This beautiful, dangerous man was hers .

She took his hand, grateful for once to be a Seer. She’d felt hope surge in him when he’d realized they had a chance of rescue.

Outside, a soft rain was falling over the foggy grounds. A couple of fae lights wafted near, shimmering like opals in the mist.

Adric brought his mouth to her ear. “Be ready to run.”

She squeezed his hand. “Together.”