I'm pathetic. "I...you...never mind. I'm going home."

  His big hands framed her face, keeping her locked in place. Fear crawled up her spine. The kind she'd lived with 24/7 in New York.

  You'll leave your hands where I put them, pretty girl, or I'll break them.

  Her lungs constricted, making it impossible to breathe.

  "All right, poppet. Calm down." William combed his fingers through her hair. "Take a deep breath for me."

  Open your mouth for me.

  Gillian erupted, beating at William. "Let me go. You have to let me go." As her fists bloodied his nose and cut his lip, she had no pride. No ambition but escape. "Don't touch me! You have to stop touching me!"

  "Shh. Shh. I've got you." He yanked her against the hard line of his body and wrapped his arms around her, holding her captive. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, I swear it."

  Still she fought. He only held her tighter.

  Ultimately, her strength drained, and she sagged against him. Sobs racked her.

  "I'll help you overcome this," he said, "but not tonight. With us, sex won't be a bandage meant to hide a wound."

  She stiffened, opened her mouth, snapped it closed. Why couldn't he see? She needed a bandage. Her wound seeped poison. One day soon, it would kill her.

  But he was right about one thing. She wasn't ready for sex.

  Scratch that. She might not ever be ready. Her stephorrors had ruined her. Because, if she couldn't remain calm with William, the man she trusted above all others, she couldn't remain calm with anyone.

  Gillian did the only thing she could, and put sex on her never-never list. Never acknowledge, never consider.

  No hope. A ragged, broken sound left her. The kind injured animals made just before dying.

  "One day, my silly Gilly Gumdrop, we'll look back on this night and laugh," William said, still so gentle, so tender. "You'll see."

  "Maybe you're right." She prayed he was right.

  "I'm the wisest man ever to walk the Earth," he said with a wink. "I know all."

  No, not all. Not the key to breaking his curse.

  "One day isn't now," she croaked. This time, as she fought to disentangle from his embrace, he let her go. "I'd like to go home."

  "Don't be embarrassed," he said. "Not with me. We'll pretend this never happened. In fact, it's already wiped from my memory. We'll continue on as before." He took her hand, the same way he'd taken the other woman's hand, and another piece of Gillian's heart withered. "Let's fire up some video games and do a little zombie slaying."

  "No." She shook her head, locks of hair slapping her cheeks. "Don't worry about me, okay? We're friends. We'll always be friends. I just... I need to be alone right now."

  "Poppet--"

  "Please, Liam."

  The look he gave her broke her already broken heart.

  Tomorrow, they'd go back to business as usual, and she'd go on living half a life, afraid of men and sex and maybe even happiness. Tonight she would cry.

  4

  Three days later

  So. This is the woman William of the Dark will live or die for.

  Puck crouched on the railing of an eighteenth-story balcony, gargoyle-style, and peered into a spacious apartment with only two occupants. William of the Dark and Gillian Shaw.

  Soon she would be Gillian Connacht.

  William. Wed. War.

  Now that Puck had found William, his tasks shifted: wed the girl, cart her to Amaranthia, return for the male. Wed. Cart. Return.

  Perhaps he should stop staring at the female first?

  Impossible.

  While the demon growled with displeasure, Puck drank in Gillian's dark fall of silken waves and eyes the color of whiskey. Seductive eyes filled with kindling. One day, a male would light her match, and she would burn for him, and him alone.

  Flawless golden skin and blood-red lips only added to her appeal, making her the embodiment of a fairy-tale princess.

  My princess.

  Puck bit his tongue--he should have tasted blood, but because of Indifference, he tasted nothing. There was no denying the truth. Being near the female he planned to wed came with an unexpected complication. Indifferent? Hardly. She roused his most possessive instincts.

  Soon she would belong to him. She would be his first and only "mine," without actually being his.

  Must police my thoughts about her, or I'll ruin everything.

  He felt as if he'd been watching Gillian for days, even weeks, as if he knew her, and yet he marveled over every new detail he learned. She was shockingly human, with a gentle spirit and an aura of kindness. Her beguiling smile was infectious, the rare times she revealed it.

  Mostly she studied the people and world around her, somehow both present and detached, all while radiating bone-deep sadness.

  Too many centuries had passed since Puck had experienced such heartfelt emotion. Before his possession, he might have sympathized with her--whatever her troubles happened to be--and sought to make things better. Now? He would use her without hesitation. He must.

  War before a woman.

  "I'm needed elsewhere," William said, and kissed her cheek.

  Puck scrutinized his competition for the female's affections: six-five, solidly built, black hair, blue eyes, handsome if you liked perfection, and soon to be sporting a broken nose if he kissed Puck's future bride again.

  Inner slap. To achieve his goals, Puck needed both Gillian and William to cooperate.

  "Hades requires my expertise to obliterate Lucifer's newest palace," William continued.

  Lucifer. The male's older brother.

  Gillian scowled. Soon she would smile. Around William, her moods tended to change lightning fast, as if she wanted to feel one way, but he made her feel another.

  "No, you're staying here." Her voice, even laced with a thread of anger, had the power to seduce.

  No wonder William had fallen hard for her, and no other.

  Puck had actually found the male hundreds of years ago, not long after the Oracles spoke their prophecy. Back then, William had loved no one but himself, forcing Puck to turn his efforts to obtaining the shears of Ananke.

  She was the goddess of Bonds, and rumors claimed her shears could sever any spiritual, emotional or physical tie without consequence. Of course, rumors also claimed the artifact severed more than the user bargained for.

  What was truth? What was lie?

  At first, Puck had contemplated using the shears to sever his bond with the demon. The creature had become a part of him, another heartbeat he needed to survive. Ditching him without penalty...could anything be better?

  Why else would the Oracles instruct him to find the shears?

  But, if using the shears on Indifference had been the answer to Puck's dilemma, why instruct him to marry Gillian, and recruit William?

  What if the shears severed Puck's connection to Indifference, but also his emotions? He would be in worse shape than before. What if he used the shears and died? The artifact might consider death a blessing rather than a consequence.

  Too many risks.

  In the end, Puck had opted to stick with his original plan, and work with William.

  Help me defeat my brother. In return, I'll divorce your female and give her back to you.

  Puck returned his gaze to the dark-haired Gillian. She had such lush breasts. A flat stomach, and rounded hips. Long legs meant to wrap around a man's waist--my waist.

  His heart beat with renewed determination, as if the organ had come back to life, even though it had never died. As if it said, I've been waiting for her.

  His ears rang as his blood turned to fuel. He sizzled, hungered and craved, and shot as hard as a rock, his erection straining against his fly.

  Want to touch her skin. Would she burn him alive? What a way to go.

  Want to kiss those plump red lips. Would she taste as sweet as sugar, as he suspected? Must know.

  Did she have the power to make him come? Really must kno
w.

  He gnashed his teeth. The answers didn't matter. He needed to utilize his famous control.

  Too late. Indifference already clawed through his mind, making him feel as if he were hemorrhaging internally.

  Time for ice. Puck hesitated...then issued the summons.

  Nowadays he almost always hesitated to use magic to put his thoughts and feelings in a literal deep freeze. Not because using magic outside of Amaranthia required an extra boost of energy--it did--but because he became a savage killer without mercy or regret.

  Like you weren't a savage killer before?

  He wouldn't soften until the ice cracked or thawed, a process he couldn't control. Instead, he had to wait for something or someone to prick an emotion strong enough to shatter--or hot enough to burn.

  If the ice remained, he could lose interest in his goals.

  Worth the risk. He couldn't meet his goals if Indifference weakened him.

  The deep freeze numbed him out, as expected, but not as quickly or densely as usual. The layers were too thin, his emotions too fervent to be denied, all on their own.

  Fervent enough that he experienced an emotional hangover that left him with a headache and churning stomach.

  He summoned more ice. More, still.

  There. Better. Even the hangover vanished.

  He might find the girl fascinating, but so what? She was a means to an end, nothing more.

  Once Sin had been dethroned, Puck would wed someone else and, with his loving queen at his side, he would finally kill his brother, thus fulfilling both prophecies.

  Gillian anchored her hands on her hips, breasts straining against her shirt. With the ice in place, Puck had no reaction. Excellent. "Whatever brand-new, shiny war you're hoping to start can wait," she told William.

  The male offered her a mock growl. "You're not the boss of me."

  "I beg to differ." Head high, she dug a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of her jeans. "I'm redeeming one of my coupons. The right to--what? Boss you around for twenty-four consecutive hours."

  William hunched his shoulders and heaved a defeated sigh. "Give her a coupon book, they said. It's fun and creative, they said."

  She laughed an enchanting laugh, proving Puck's suspicions--and cracking his hard-won ice, just like that.

  She might be human, but she is also an enchantress, and more dangerous than any foe I've ever faced.

  Usually he eschewed distractions, but he needed one now and allowed his mind to wander...

  What would his friends think of Gillian?

  During his search for the shears, he'd met demon-possessed siblings. Cameron, keeper of Obsession, and Winter, keeper of Selfishness. They'd understood his plight and offered to help. Meaning, Cameron had obsessed over Puck's mission, and Winter had decided she could work the situation to her favor.

  Every hardship they'd endured would soon pay off.

  The doorbell rang, drawing Puck back to the present.

  With a heady aura of innocence and wickedness, Gillian batted her long, black lashes at William. "Be a lamb and welcome our guests inside."

  Mumbling under his breath, the Ever Randy strode to the door, opened up. Different immortals poured into the apartment. Among them, Harpies, a Sent One, a goddess and twelve demon-possessed warriors like Puck. Hugs were exchanged and gifts given to Gillian.

  A birthday celebration?

  "No, no, no," a petite blonde said as she breezed into the foyer. "Not yet. This is only a pre-celebration. Or is it post-pre-celebration since William already threw a pre-celebration? Anyway! The real party is tomorrow. Maybe. But probably definitely not."

  "Keeleycael," William said with a nod of greeting. "Can you do me a solid and stow away the crazy today?"

  She blew him a kiss. "But I'm speaking with your competition. Spoiler alert. He wins!"

  "I'd be mad at you for daring to lie to me," William replied with an easy tone, "if I had competition."

  Puck frowned. Keeleycael, the Red Queen? Suspicions danced inside his head, tension tightening each of his muscles--the ice cracking once again.

  As Indifference snarled, Puck ignored his usual reluctance and summoned another layer of cold disinterest. So what if she was the same Keeleycael who'd given the small, bejeweled case to Sin. What did Puck care?

  Keeleycael nipped at a warrior's ear--Torin, the keeper of Disease--before whispering something to William.

  Puck picked up only a handful of words. "Danger...waiting...plan to eliminate..."

  William frowned, his body going rigid. "You're sure?"

  The blonde nodded, adamant. "Your enemies plan to kill her."

  Her--Gillian?

  Fury pulsed from William as he stalked to the girl's side and led her into a private corner. "Something dire has come up. I need to leave for an hour, maybe two. Let me go without protest or demanding details, despite the coupon, and I'll make it up to you. I swear it."

  Disappointment flashed in her dark eyes, but she nodded. "Of course. Do what you need to do."

  "Thank you." He tweaked her nose before flashing away--moving from one location to another with only a thought. Where had he gone?

  Puck stayed put, observing Gillian. The allotted hours passed, but William never showed. Eventually, the others said their goodbyes and trickled out of the apartment, until only Keeleycael remained.

  Should Puck approach? He might not get another chance to speak to Gillian without William nearby. But what would he say?

  Centuries ago, I was told you are the key to dethroning my brother. Marry me?

  "Quick question," Keeleycael said to Gillian.

  "Keeley," the girl replied with a moan. "Must we do this now?"

  Keeley. A nickname.

  "We must," the pale-haired woman said. "What is your greatest wish?"

  "Besides a female-ruled society where men are pets?"

  "Obviously." Thoughtful, the blonde tapped a razor-sharp nail against her chin. "I'm going to save that particular wish for your eight-century birthday."

  Gillian snorted. "Eight centuries? Please. But you know what I really want? To be more like you. So strong. So brave. So...free."

  Puck stored every "wish" in a mental file labeled Wife. Ways to win her? Make her feel strong, brave and free.

  "Ding, ding, ding. Absolute right answer, so go ahead and consider me your fairy godmother." Keeley yanked a small vial of liquid from a leather cord hanging from her neck. "Here. Drink this, and thank me later."

  Gillian's brows knit together. "What is it?"

  "Less talking, more drinking. Bottoms up. And happy eighteenth birthday, little one. This is going to make all your dreams come true...dreams you don't even know you have. You're so welcome." Keeley urged Gillian's hand to her mouth, even helped her tilt the vial, pouring the contents down the girl's throat. "You didn't refuse to drink, so you won't die, driving William to his death. Or did he already die? Wait. I'm confused."

  "William's going to die?" Gillian croaked.

  "Weren't you listening? He's not. Now. I might change my tune in another five hundred years or so."

  Puck sniffed the air and frowned. He scented a powerful potion meant to turn a human into an immortal. A rare potion, thought to be extinct.

  As Keeley continued to babble nonsense, Gillian grew still. The color drained from her cheeks. Sweat beaded on her brow, and she clutched her stomach. "Keeley, what did you give--" Her eyes widened as she gasped.

  Whimpering now, she rushed out of the living room. Puck vaulted to the next window ledge, unwilling to let her out of his sight, even for a second. She stopped in the bathroom, where she vomited.

  Too weak to stand, she collapsed to the floor. Groaning, she closed her eyes and curled into herself.

  Keeley followed her, saying, "I'm one hundred percent certain that I'm ninety-three percent certain that I gave you the correct dose. Hmmm. Your symptoms are...well, I'm not pleased. Maybe we'll have to go with Plan B?"

  The urge to crash through the wi
ndow bombarded Puck. He would gather the girl in his arms and...what? What could he do to help? How did one care for a sick mortal-almost-immortal?

  Soldiers in Amaranthia were forced to tend to their own ailments and injuries with magic. If you weren't strong enough to recover without aid, you didn't deserve to live.

  Never mind. No need to help her. Keeley flashed away just as William burst inside the bathroom.

  Seeing Gillian, his concern was palpable. "What's wrong?"

  Puck ran his tongue over his teeth as his butterfly tattoo moved, like a snake slithering to a new hiding place. From his chest, to his back, to his thigh. Just as he had wandered across Amaranthia, aimless, the demon wandered across the contours of his body anytime Puck experienced some kind of life-changing emotion.

  What life-changing emotion did he experience now?

  A quick peek beneath the surface of the ice revealed...compassion and envy?

  Want nothing, need nothing.

  Besides, William didn't measure up to Puck in any way. Despite Puck's handicap, he was stronger, faster and far more capable.

  Truth was truth.

  "S-sick," Gillian whispered in a broken voice. "Hurt."

  "Don't worry," William said. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything." He stretched out a hand suddenly glowing with power.

  Puck did a double take. William had runes. Golden scrolls twined from his fingertips to his wrist, a conduit for whatever magic he possessed.

  With a single wave, he cut a rift in the air, opening a doorway between two different realms. Through the doorway, Puck saw...a wall of stone?

  "I will fix this, you have my word." Gentle, so gentle, the warrior scooped the dark-haired beauty into his arms and carried her through the doorway.

  Just before it closed, Puck burst through the window, shattering glass, raced through the room and dove.

  5

  Puck rolled to a stop. As he straightened, he studied his new surroundings. A cave heavily guarded by wards--a type of protective magic derived from symbols. These particular wards were set to react to an invader's intentions. Purposely sneak into the realm? Lose your eyes. Have rape on your mind? Lose your shaft. Ready to commit murder? Say goodbye to your head.

  There was also a ward set to alert William of a newcomer's arrival. For the first time, Indifference served Puck well; the wards treated him as they would a wild animal, ignoring him.

  Outside the confines of the cave, he discovered a tropical paradise. Yellow palm trees, heavy with fruit. A white sky. Miles of pink water. Waves lapped at glistening white and purple sand, the scent of salt and coconut coating a gentle breeze.