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325 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published September 6, 2011
Permanent mercy has to be earned. A warning to choose the right side. Only in my world the sides weren’t right and wrong. They were my side and everybody else’s.
I’d be choosing me.


I unshadowed completely and lifted the dagger, fingers steady on the hilt as he took one last breath.
But even as the blade descended, the room blazed to light around me and a hand snaked out like a lightning bolt and clamped around my wrist.
“Not so fast,” the man said in a calm tone.
I tried to shadow and my heart leaped to my throat as nothing happened.
"I swore and flung myself forward, swinging my free hand at his face again. But he moved too, fast and sure, and somehow—damn, he was good—I missed, my hand smacking into the wall. I twisted desperately as the impact sent a shock wave up my arm, but the light dazzled me as I looked directly into one of the lamps.
A split second is all it takes to make a fatal mistake.
Before I could blink, he had pulled me forward and round and I sailed through the air to land facedown on the feather mattress, wind half knocked out of me. My free hand was bent up behind my back, and my other—still holding my dagger—was pinned by his to the pillow.
My heart raced in anger and humiliation and fear as I tried to breathe."
A smile spread over his face, revealing he had two dimples, not one. Not just pretty, I decided. He was . . . alluring wasn’t the right word. The Blood and the Fae are alluring—an attraction born of icy beauty and danger. I am immune to that particular charm. No, he was . . . inviting somehow. A fire on a winter’s night, promising warmth and life.
His eyes held genuine curiosity. “You’re really a wraith?”
“Yes.”
He laughed and the sound was sunlight, warm and golden, a smooth caress against the skin.
“Is that so amusing?”
“If the stories are to believed, you’re supposed to be ten feet tall with fangs and claws.”
I tilted my head. “I am not Blood or Beast Kind. No fangs. Or claws.”
He looked over my shoulder, presumably at my dagger. “Just one perhaps? But really . . . no one ever said you were—” He stopped abruptly.
“What?” The question rose from my lips before I could stop myself.
This time his smile was crooked. “Beautiful.”
I snorted. Beautiful? Me? No. I knew that well enough. The Fae are beautiful and even the Blood in their own way. I am only odd with gray eyes—a color no Fae or true demi-Fae ever had—and red hair that stands out like a beacon amongst the silvery hues of the Blood. “That’s because I’m not.”
He looked surprised. “I know the Blood don’t use mirrors, but you must have seen yourself.”
“Maybe the Night World has different standards.”
“Then the Night World needs its eyesight examined,” he said with another crooked smile. “Gods and suns.”
***
I found myself leaning forward as Simon spoke, drawn again against my will, like a moth seeking light.
I straightened whenever I noticed, reminding myself exactly what it was that happened to moths that flew into bright lights. Simon the sunmage could be nothing for me but trouble. And the reverse, even more so. Lucius already wanted him dead. His efforts would redouble if he thought I had developed some sort of fascination for the sunmage.
We came to the front door. I reached for the handle.
His hand caught mine. “Don’t go back there.”
“I have to. Lucius will come looking for me.” I looked at our hands, at his fingers curled around mine, and thought of the world I was returning to. No warmth or pools of sunlight there. No one who saw good where there was no good to be seen. No strong hand holding mine.
Only the familiar ruthless world I knew. But I had to go. Lucius would move heaven and earth to find me if I vanished. I doubted Simon would survive the search, Templar brother or no. “Don’t try to save me, Simon. It’s not worth it.”
His smile went crooked again. “Saving people is what I do.”
“I’m not hurt. I don’t need a healer.”
The smile vanished. “Are you certain about that?”
I tugged my hand free, wanting to ask what he meant. A dangerous impulse. I needed to go. “You should leave being a white knight to your brother.”
“He taught me everything I know.”
“Then you should have paid more attention. I’m sure he taught you not to tangle with the Blood over foolishness. Let me go.”
“You think this is foolishness?” His finger brushed my cheek, and the sting of the sunburn faded under his touch. Another warmth altogether flared in its place.
I stepped back. “I know it is. This is the real world. White knights belong in stories.”
“Yes. Not that it makes any difference to me.” I tightened my grip, increased the pressure ever so slightly. If I were smart, I would do it. Plunge the blade into his neck. Spill his blood all over this room. Complete my mission and redeem myself.
Become the weapon again, not the prey.
My hand clenched tighter. Do it. Do it now!
The words shrieked in my brain. I felt like a chasm had opened beneath my feet, miles deep. If I took this step, if I killed this man whose name came so easily to my tongue, this man who had done nothing to me but offer kindness, offer choice, then I couldn’t return. I would fall. I would be Lucius’ creature completely. Nothing but darkness.
As soulless as the Fae termed me.
But I would be alive.
“If you’re going to do it, make it fast,” he said, voice still completely calm.
I snarled, not liking that he knew what I was thinking. “Tell me why I shouldn’t?”
“Because you’re not who you think you are. You’re not who they think you are,” he said. There was no lightness in his tone now. “You can be more.”
I snarled again. But I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the one who killed him. I had always offered Lucius my obedience for his protection, for survival. But something had shifted between us tonight, perhaps shifted in me as well. And right now the thought of doing his will was unbearable.
“You don’t know me, sunmage. If you did, you wouldn’t want me anywhere near you.”
He shook his head. “You’re wrong about that.”
“What you think doesn’t change anything. Go.”
“No.”
“Come with you and what, warm your bed? Is that what you want?” I didn’t know what else he could seek to gain from me.
He looked away—just for an instant—and I knew I’d scored a hit. He wanted me. Foolish. He should learn to think with his head. If he knew the truth about me, knew my dirty little secret, he wouldn’t want to touch me.
I reached for Shadow’s arm, digging the other hand into my pocket for my knockout powder, determined to take her with us, but I hadn’t quite gripped her before something big and wooden sailed through the air from behind, clipping her in the back of the head. The chair—at least that’s what I thought it had been originally—changed direction slightly after it hit her and missed me by a hairbreadth.
I didn’t waste time as I saw her start to fall, simply swooped forward, caught her, and hoisted her over my shoulder. Problem solved. We had her and we were taking her. I’d deal with the consequences when they came.
“You sure about this?” Guy growled as I adjusted Shadow’s unconscious form on my shoulder.
“Completely.”
Guy nodded once. “So be it.”
We made like hell for the exit.