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Gwyn moaned. Her head was killing her. Silence greeted her as she strained her ears to determine if anyone was nearby. Cracking her eyelids, the darkness was complete, so nothing stood out to help her figure out where she was.

She attempted to pull herself up, but it took her sluggish mind a few seconds to realize her arms had been tied overhead, and her hands had gone numb. She clenched and unclenched her fingers, hoping to restore the blood circulation, but only managed to create excruciating pain as her nerve endings mimicked hot pokers underneath her skin.

Her shoulder muscles screamed for relief. This time, she used her legs. Slowly, she scooted around until her legs curled beneath her. Inch by inch, she pushed her body up just enough to relieve some pressure.

So, you're finally awake.

A male voice buzzed like angry bees in her ears. She shook her head, willing whoever was screaming at her to stop.

I punished the stupid beast who hit you. I killed him, of course—imbeciles, all of them, which is why I need you, my dear.

"You should work on your sweet talking because it's lacking."

You wound me.

"Who are you?"

Open your eyes and find out.

The feeling of foreboding was oppressive. She didn’t want to do what he said, so before chickening out, she forced her eyelids apart.

Hovering in front of her was an undulating black cloud. Something even darker moved in the shadowy depths, and a face almost formed then disappeared, turning back into a thick, soupy mist. What creeped her out was the phantom eyes where the head should have been. They glowed orange. It had the most depraved aura she had ever felt, chilling her soul.

"I hope this isn't your best look." She held her breath, waiting for the entity's backlash. He laughed instead. The sound grated on every nerve ending, and she winced.

You have courage and spirit. It’s good for me, bad for you. Now, all we need is your sister.”

"Leave Morgan alone!" She lunged forward, forgetting her bonds, and was painfully reminded as she was jerked backward. "You don't need her when you have me."

I'm sorry, my dear, but I most definitely do. You see, for me to release my body from the Unseelie Court, two descendants of Morrigan are required. I could use the goddess’s sisters, but Nemain and Macha have been monumental disappointments in providing heirs, so you're it.

"You're disgusting," she growled, thankful he didn't know about the babies. If he needed two to escape, what would four deaths give him? His confidence scared her. He didn't seem worried about Torin or his clan. Why? "Torin will find me," she goaded.

Then he will die. I have something he and his pathetic clan want. I managed to get my hands on Kilian. I doubt they find us, but if they do, all I need to do is threaten to give Kilian the last injection, and they will back down, trying to save their precious friend. What they don’t realize is he already will be mine.

"What are you talking about?"

The Dark Fae's laughter made her stomach turn, and she fought to keep the bile down by swallowing several times. You've met my warriors—pets, of sort. Centuries of nothing to do gave me ample time to perfect my formula. I had no idea just how close I was the first time. I had all the right ingredients but needed time to make a few tweaks in the amounts. I’ll admit, nothing would have worked until I found the spell. That is what perfected it. I was on the right track, using Fae spawn. Our blood is strong and absorbs magic slower than a human's. Weak race, really. The humans died too quickly.

"So that's why they can't return to their human forms? You got the spell wrong?”

I was NOT wrong! I am NEVER wrong! No, my dear, that was something I made happen. What good would they be if they thought for themselves? Changing back would only hurt my cause, not help it. This final formula ensures Kilian will do as I say, and if I tell him to act as he usually would, no one will be the wiser until his orders are changed to attack them when they least expect it.

She cringed, moving away from the billowing cloud, knowing the others would be so grateful to have him back, they probably wouldn’t notice any differences. If they did, they would simply chalk it up to being under the influence of Fer-Diorich and the trauma of reliving the past all over again.

The Dark Fae's ego was massive, even in his current unsubstantial state, and she couldn’t help but wonder how that flaw could be used against him. What, however, would he be like with a substantial body and at full power outside the Unseelie Court? She suppressed a shiver. She didn't want to find out.

Do not provoke me again. I may not have a corporeal form in your world, but I am still powerful. I would rest if I were you. You won’t get another chance. The cloud undulated from the room like a caterpillar.

How was she going to get out of this mess? Glancing at the iron cuffs around her wrists, escape seemed impossible, but she had to try. She closed her eyes and slowed her heartbeat by taking deep, calming breaths. In a silent whisper, she chanted every spell she could remember from her mother's book, but nothing worked. The locked chains remained secure.

She slumped against the cuffs, the painful pull on her shoulders a constant reminder of how stupid she was. Fáelán warned them, and they hadn't listened. She hadn't listened. It was all her fault—and now Kilian's life was threatened.

A tiny spark of hope for her was that the Dark Fae needed her alive for the ceremony. That was something, at least. She opened her mind, searching for Torin or her sister and screaming a warning to anyone close who could help.

It is useless to scream—no one will hear you. A tired voice said.

She almost missed his whisper and strained to hear him again. Who's there? Silence greeted her. This voice was nothing like Fer-Diorich's. It reminded her of a deep well of fine chocolate, rich and cultured. Answer me! Who are you? Where are you? How in the hell are you talking to me mentally?

Demanding little thing, aren't you? Torin's hands will be full with you—and a daughter...no, not one but two... Do not let Fer-Diorich learn of your pregnancy! His voice grew a bit stronger. If he finds out there are two more descendants, he will achieve enough power to destroy our kind.

Our kind? I don't even know who you are, so why should I trust you? And how do you know about the babies?

He chuckled. As if there is a better option? I am Kilian, Fáelán's brother. We've met before, and I swore to Torin then that I would protect you with my life...what little remains. I swear the same oath to your children.

Why am I able to hear you? I can only talk this way with Morgan and Torin.

I'm sure the others told you I tend to keep to myself and spend most of my time with the wolves?

She nodded, forgetting he probably couldn’t see her. “Yes,” she whispered.

Before the experiments, I had a mild ability to read people's thoughts—only a word here or there. My father was a powerful druid, and my brother and I inherited a few of his abilities. After Fer-Diorich injected me with his concoction, I saw into their minds, as if I was reading a book. Awkward, to say the least, so I stay away from people as much as possible.

Ewww, I totally agree. Do blocks work?

I have no idea. I've never told anyone to find out. His voice faded.

A noble but stupid sacrifice, if you ask me.

I didn't.

Why are all men so pigheaded and stubborn? She put up the mental obstructions like her mother taught her when she was first learning how to use her telepathy, covering those memories or thoughts she wanted to keep hidden. Okay, try to read my mind now.

After several minutes of complete silence, she was beginning to wonder if he had fallen asleep. A few seconds later, she heard a strangled gasp.

How did you do that? All I see are large blanks where, a moment ago, were graphic images that will, unfortunately, be burned into my mind forever.

I created mental blocks, like a blanket covering whatever I wanted to keep hidden. My mother taught my sister and me this trick when we were little. Morgan loved tormenting me. She’d eavesdrop and then tattle.

Sounds like something my brother used to do to me. Gwyn almost saw the smile on his face through his tone but didn't like how weak his voice sounded.

Do you know where we are?

When I was captured, I had just begun searching the ruins of an old 13th-century castle. The Alpha pair and I followed a strange blackness into the forest when at least two Ironclaws attacked us. The male died protecting his mate, who was injured. Do you know if she made it back to the caverns?

The rest of the pack is safe. Makari and Rafael will take good care of them until you return. If they found her or the Alpha's body before I was taken, they never said anything. There's still hope she's alive.

Or she's here and is being tortured.

Kilian, you can't think like that.

She is pregnant too. For all I know, that damned Fae figured out how to convert wolves as well.

Gwyn closed her eyes. She wanted to cry for the Alpha female. Like humans, animals feared for their young. The mother wolf had to be scared. Can you read the Fae? Do you know what he plans to do with us?

Sometimes, you are better off not knowing.

Well, that's comforting. Can you contact your brother or Torin?

If they're close enough, maybe, but since we're in the dungeon, probably not. The castle's walls are at least a foot thick.

She frowned, staring at the spot where the Fae had disappeared. The inky blackness didn't seem as opaque in that area, and every few seconds, she thought she imagined a doorway. Kilian?

I'm here.

I'm scared.

I am too, little sister. I am too.

* * *

"You are lucky we heal so fast," Fáelán said and swiped the gash on Torin's forehead with antiseptic. In another five minutes, the skin would be closed as if the wound had never been.

Torin followed his friend's slow movements as he methodically put everything away. "Maybe I deserve the pain of infection as punishment for letting them take her."

Fáelán met his gaze with a slight shake of his head. "You love her so much—you would risk a near-death experience? You had no idea they would attack in broad daylight when that has never been possible. They are night creatures, which proves our old enemy is truly back and continues his quest for dominance."

Torin shoved his fingers through his unruly hair, welcoming the sharp pain as he pressed against the tender skin on his forehead. "I love her that much. She carries my children, Fáelán. How could I have put them in such danger? What kind of man am I?" He closed his eyes. I'm going to be a terrible husband and father... If I ever get that chance.

"You are the same as any other who walks this earth. Everyone has problems that need fixing and makes mistakes they feel guilty for. You are no different. This changes our plan a bit, but we will get her back—and the babes."

Torin shook his head as he fought to control his constant fury. "You cannot make such a promise when Fer-Diorich is involved. You know that. Look what he did to our families! He will throw everything in his arsenal at us to escape the Unseelie Court. He's halfway out already!"

Fáelán placed his heavy paw on Torin's shoulder. "Yes, he is. We aren't without our own tricks, now, are we? We also have a few allies who give us an advantage." He released Torin's shoulder. "When Rhona arrives, meet us in the front room."

After Fáelán left, Torin stared at the floor, his thoughts replaying the fight and what he could have done differently. With a deep breath, he slid off the table. Not wanting to face Morgan, he walked toward the wolves' cavern, searching for Makari, and stopped outside the den. The sad whine coming from within broke his heart.

He closed his eyes at the guilt riding him for not checking on them sooner. They, too, lost their family. He whispered a quick prayer that both the male and female would return unharmed. Without the Alpha pair—and Kilian—they seemed as lost as he was.

Stepping inside the small grotto, he found the three wolf pups lying together in the back of the room. From the ripe smell of rotting meat, their food remained untouched. A glance at the water hole showed their water was also untouched.

Kneeling in front of them, he reached out and gently stroked each pup, scratching behind their ears, and poured as much love as possible into each caress. "My heart aches too, guys. Fáelán says we shouldn't lose hope, but it's hard, isn't it?"

He lifted the head of the smallest female, her black-rimmed, blue eyes flat and lifeless. "I know our enemy, and I won't give you hope where there is none, but I can promise you I will do everything I can to bring back your parents.”

"That's still giving them hope."

That he let Makari sneak up on him told him just how out of kilter he was. "Maybe I needed to hear it too?"

The soft pads of his friend's paws made no sound on the hard rock, but Torin sensed when he stopped beside him. A quick gleam caught his eye, and he saw a wicked-looking blade in Makari's tight grip, which he held out to him.

Torin stood and took the knife, turning it over and noticing the ancient Ogham slashes written on both sides of the serpentine blade. The silver handle was ornate, with small pieces of obsidian embedded within the metal.

He glanced up at the black wolf, one brow raised in a silent question.

"It is my own design with a little magic I picked up during my time in the Dark Fae's prison." He reached around his back and pulled another knife from behind the leather belt at his waist. "This one is almost identical, but for the length of the handle. Each weapon is formed for a specific hand, giving only that person the power to use it. One slice of the skin or a stab will inject the victim with liquid silver."

Torin inspected the runes running down the blade, then flipped it over, carefully holding it in the palm of his hand. "The writing is what?"

"A spell Kilian and I created so the silver within the weapons would kill only the Ironclaws. We thought to prevent our own injuries, and they can still be wielded in battle against humans, but as regular blades.

Torin stood and palmed the knife, slashing the air in front of him a few times. With a small smile of approval, he nodded. "Seems to be a good blade and fits my hand perfectly."

"It is—do you not listen?"

Torin shoved the black wolf's shoulder. "You always have to have the last word." With one more worried glance at the sorrow-filled pups, he followed Makari into the adjoining cave where they stored most of their weapons. He helped him pack four small duffel bags with various weapons. Grabbing two of the four, he headed back down the pathway to the front room where the others already waited.

The minute he stepped inside, Morgan's blue gaze met his. Her glance passed over his shoulder to Makari, who walked in behind him. She continued to stare through the empty doorway, but when no one else entered, she looked back at him.

"Is Gwyn in her room? She should be here too."

He took a deep breath. “Werewolves took her while we were in town." No sugar-coating, his voice harsh and as gentle as a bandage ripped from a wound.

Her eyes widened, and her face flooded with fury as she launched off the sofa, punching his chest with her fists. "You promised! You swore you would protect her and keep her safe!"

It took both Rafael, who ran in from outside when she began screaming, and Makari to pull her off and hold her writhing body as she tried to break free and attack him again.

"Morgan, I'm sorry?—."

"Keep your apologies to yourself!" She stopped trying to jerk away from their grasp, but the two wolves continued to hold her. "You knew better than to take her into town," she said in a controlled but icy voice. "If my sister dies, I will kill you myself."

Torin held his body still. He understood her fear, but to threaten him? The aching in his heart turned to anger at her words, and in two steps, he stood toe-to-toe with her. "I take full responsibility for what happened to Gwyn, and I do NOT need your reprimands. I had no reason to fear an attack. Until yesterday, no Ironclaw walked in sunlight."

He forced the bite from his voice, knowing her threats were out of worry for her sister, but it wasn't easy, especially with his own fear running rampant through his veins. "I will find her and bring her back alive, or I will die trying. That is not a promise but a vow."