Page 2

Rowen

I gazed up from the two women pleasuring each other in front of me as a strange sensation built in my chest, like an invisible hand reaching inside and squeezing. The show that had moments ago captured my attention now seemed meaningless, distant.

The fire burned within me—not desire, but something primal and urgent—as the three words I hope never to hear rang in my ears, clear as crystal despite not being spoken aloud.

Rowen help me

I sprang to my feet, my fists clenching so tightly at my sides that my knuckles turned white.

The two women tumbled across the floor with startled cries, but I paid them no heed.

Their bodies, which had been meant to distract me from my thoughts, meant nothing.

I didn't even give a shit about them to begin with—just pawns in my endless game of self-deception.

My demon rose to the surface without my permission, horns flickering to life on my head like dark flames materializing from nothing.

Wings sprouted from my back with a painful snap, unfurling in a display of power I couldn't control.

Black claw-tipped nails dug into my flesh as I curled my fists, drawing pinpricks of blood that I couldn't feel through the panic.

"Archer," I screamed, the name tearing from my throat. The hall rang with my one-word demand, the sound bouncing off the stone walls like a physical force.

Murmured whispers echoed around me as confusion swarmed the room. The revelers—demons and their playthings—stared with wide eyes and slack jaws. My party goers had no idea why I had made this outburst. Some cowered, thinking they'd somehow earned my wrath.

And I wouldn't tell them because they didn't need to know. They were nothing but distractions, temporary amusements in my eternal existence. They didn't need to know my weakness. No one could know.

Sierra. My Sierra. My omega witch. Just thinking her name made something inside me ache with a longing I'd tried to bury beneath flesh and indulgence.

The room started to clear as my second in command made his way inside, his presence commanding even among demons. "Everybody out!" The rest of the demons scattered like roaches exposed to light. Most in various stages of undress, grabbing at discarded clothing and dignity alike.

But again I didn't care. Let them run naked through my domain. It meant nothing.

Archer approached me with measured steps, wary but unafraid.

His black cloak swirled around him like living shadow as he twirled the sharp silver daggers between his fingers—an elegant, deadly dance.

A nervous habit. One he did frequently when he was annoyed with me.

Not that he would ever tell me he was annoyed with me.

Our relationship didn't allow for such simple honesty.

Dark hair the color of a Raven's wing fell in soft waves to brush his collar, framing a face that had witnessed centuries of my worst behavior.

Ice blue eyes stared at me, piercing and knowing, as an expression of practiced boredom crossed over his features.

Until he saw the frantic look in my eyes, the barely contained panic I couldn't mask.

"Rowen, what is it?" His brow furrowed and the daggers in his hands stilled, all pretense dropped in an instant.

"She called me."

It was all I had to say—three words that carried the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. Archer knew exactly who I was talking about and what it meant to me to say those words. The only one who knew my secret obsession, my greatest vulnerability in a world where vulnerabilities get you killed.

"I'll see if I can find her." Archer's eyes fluttered shut as he called forth his powers. The demon was the most powerful tracker in all of the realms. He was able to find someone with a simple thought—a gift I'd both relied on and envied countless times throughout our centuries together.

I only hoped Sierra wasn't able to block his powers. It would be the one time where I didn't want Sierra's powers to overcome ours. The very thought made my jaw clench, my fangs pressing against the inside of my lip until I tasted copper.

Emotions flickered over Archer's face—frustration, concentration, then something like amusement. Even with his eyes closed, I could tell he was struggling to find her. The muscles in his forehead tensed, a vein pulsing at his temple.

"Gods damn it." I slammed my fist into the nearest wall, cracking the ancient stone. I'd taught my girl too well. All those lessons in concealment magic—meant to protect her—now being used against me.

"Hold your horses, Rowen," Archer snapped, not breaking his concentration. "It just takes me a little bit of time to find her. She's... slippery. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands."

"Well then where the fuck is she?" I bit out through clenched teeth.

My patience—never my strong suit—was a frayed thread about to snap.

Every second we wasted was another second Sierra was in danger.

Another second where I couldn't see her, couldn't protect her, couldn't breathe in that intoxicating scent that haunted my dreams.

Those icy blue eyes snapped open and he pinned me with his gaze. Archer was the only one that would ever challenge my authority. There were many reasons for that, but that would take entirely too long to go into right now. Ancient history and blood debts that bound us closer than brothers.

"She's in the one place where we always thought she would go." Archer smiled wickedly, the daggers twirling through his fingers once again, silver blurring into streams of light. "Our little witch is nothing if not predictable in her unpredictability."

Archer was the one person who shared my obsession with the tiny Omega. He'd been with me the first time I saw her—that rainy night in Boston when she'd stood over a fresh grave, communing with spirits only she could see, silver hair plastered to her skin like liquid moonlight.

And he was with me the last time I saw her as well. When I'd walked away, pretending her tears meant nothing to me.

"She wouldn't," I growled, running my fingers through my thick black hair, tugging at the roots until pain bloomed across my scalp. I paced along the length of the dais, agitation making my form continue to flicker between human and demon. My wings threatened to burst forth again with every step.

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 of the 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 the two. 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 and bring 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 I destroy this whole realm because of my shithead half brother.

If he's harmed even a single silver strand on her head. .."