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  With one less-than-powerful spell, two warlocks had freed Alexandre, but their actions managed to also give him a new punishment. He destroyed. The act of devastation was in his very nature and had been ever since he began gathering power from conduits. There was no longer anything safe about him. His memories had regaled him with images of priceless architecture crumbling when he’d intended to help it stay upright three hundred years more.

  Clutching the wonderful-smelling bag, he ran for his car with one eye on his phone. The green dot was moving quickly toward I-10. As he drove, breaking more than one speeding law and running a red light whose camera wouldn’t be able to take a picture of his car, he considered calling Raphael. When he realized someone had taken Leila, he’d worry. He would also, rightfully, create a war with the humans who’d nabbed her.

  Mine. My fight.

  As her brother-in-law, Raphael had a claim to her. Alexandre didn’t give a shit. The only reason he’d let her be brought with this man was so he could find who meant her harm and cut off their operation at the roots. Without her, he had no way of knowing the human would lead him to the answers he was looking for.

  The man had hurt her but hadn’t tried to kill her. Yet. That, at least, ensured her safety to a certain degree until the two reached wherever they were going. It didn’t mean Alexandre was comfortable leaving her in danger, even temporarily. The risk to Leila clawed at his skin, painfully trying to get out.

  It wasn’t a coincidence that she’d been killed once, by people who undoubtedly knew what she was, and now they were trying again. This had to be the same group of people. Until they were eliminated she would be in danger, something Alexandre couldn’t allow.

  Leila had warned him of this last November. Then, he’d been able to sense her fear. She’d told both him and Wish they’d come for her again, and she’d been right.

  If they went after Leila, logic meant they would go for Mary as well.

  Damn. He could keep Raphael from interfering with Leila, but he couldn’t let someone take Mary without giving Raphael the chance to defend his mate. That human had taken Leila without much of a fight, and Mary was even less of a fighter than her sister.

  Dreading every moment of the conversation he was about to have, Alexandre dialed Raphael’s cell phone.

  “Who is this?” the Alpha growled after three rings.

  “Watch over Mary. Those who killed her parents and Leila mean her harm.” Alexandre took a breath and wondered if Raphael had broken his phone yet. “No, it’s not warlocks you need to be worried about…in this instance.”

  He disconnected before Raphael could ask any questions.

  They were headed northeast, toward Slidell. Then they drove straight through, the man driving a safe sixty-five miles per hour. If there was anyone else in the SUV with Leila other than the driver, Alexandre wouldn’t have been able to wait until they stopped. Not knowing what they did to her would’ve been more than he could bear.

  As it was, he wasn’t thrilled that Leila had been in the car, alone with this stranger for over half an hour. She’s unconscious, but he’s too busy driving to hurt her. It was a damned good thing he was human; most creatures could maim and drive just fine.

  Under his hand, the steering wheel disintegrated.

  He barely swerved before he pulled another wheel into place, his earth elemental abilities merging with that of his conduit’s power. All werewolves had elemental powers, most of them taking from either earth, fire, water, or air. Fire was the rarest element a werewolf could have, but Alexandre enjoyed being able to manipulate the earth. With the flick of his fingers, he could grow any plant he wanted or render soil fertile after centuries of abuse. In this case, he brought the rubber for the wheel through the crack in his car window before rolling it up completely. With his sensitive hearing, the whistling sound of air against glass hurt his ears.

  Warlocks didn’t inherently control any particular element, but they used conduits to garner what power they could harness. This was used with the witch abilities all warlocks were born with to make it so they could do whatever they pleased…given they had enough power to accomplish it.

  Because the rubber of the steering wheel came from the Earth originally, Alexandre didn’t have to tap into his conduit very much in order to get his car back on track. Not that it mattered—his conduit’s powers derived from a very old, very dead warlock who’d been almost all-powerful before Alexandre killed him.

  In terms of the conduits most warlocks sought out like addicts finding their fix, Alexandre was set for life, something he would never say out loud. To do as much would mean a death sentence, just as it had been for his conduit’s previous holder.

  The warlocks Alexandre knew would not only kill him for that kind of power, but also everyone he’d interacted with for the past few decades, whether Alexandre was fond of them or not.

  Half an hour turned into an hour, and Alexandre was winding through back roads in southern Mississippi. According to his map, they were outside of Biloxi. By his and his GPS’s estimations, he was about six minutes behind them. He’d purposely kept himself more than five minutes behind, in case he got too close and the human realized he was being followed.

  Killing the humans wouldn’t be difficult, but having the element of surprise on his side would make the task easier. That would keep Leila safer, and her safety was paramount. Nothing can happen to her.

  The new steering wheel disappeared again, leaving him holding dust. He cursed as the grit both stuck to his hands and ran through his fingers. When he conjured a new wheel, it felt rough against his dirtied hands.

  Eight minutes later, they stopped at a house that wasn’t on Alexandre’s map. If his map were correct, no one lived within five miles of where the human took Leila. Yet visual proof showed otherwise. Groomed grass unfolded on both sides of the road, with a crystalline lake glittering on the right. Recently painted fences separated the asphalt from private property, which had to lead to the place where they’d taken Leila.

  Alexandre stopped the nondescript beige car he’d bought once he realized the float had trackers in the BMW he usually preferred. He still drove it when he felt like letting other warlocks in on what he was doing, or at times when he wanted them to think he was searching for conduits.

  The vehicle was spelled to show him searching for power at this very moment. It should be driving through the seventh ward, stopping for fifteen-minute intervals before starting the hunt again. Someone could even be seen behind the wheel, scanning the horizon as he slowly drove.

  Glamours on his mind, Alexandre tapped into his store of power and masked his car’s presence before a human saw him. They might hear a car coming, but they’d simply wait for it to arrive; they’d see nothing approach.

  Soon, he could see a massive mansion, ten times the size of the larger ones in New Orleans, where it loomed on top of a rolling hill. It was set half a mile back from the road, close enough for the onlooker to see its giant windows and dark red brick, but far enough away to ensure safety and privacy. As Alexandre expected, a gate complete with a guard stood watch where the driveway met the road.

  The gate opened, and its guard didn’t bat an eye. Alexandre could feel his talisman, an object containing a portion of his conduit’s power, warm against his skin. His was a sheet of paper; he kept his power in books.

  What rose ahead of him couldn’t be considered a house. It was an estate. Every hedge was perfectly trimmed, and each window washed. This wasn’t a place for a single family to live, but for generations to meet. He imagined there were at least twelve bedrooms inside, but judging from the four cars parked side-by-side, they weren’t all filled.

  Keeping maintenance workers into consideration, Alexandre guessed fifteen humans could be within the vicinity at this moment. Fifteen different people who could harm Leila…and just as many that could die within the hour.

  Nails scraped against the stone of the driveway and a cold, wet no
se touched his hand. Not much could surprise Alexandre, but this did. A large dog that looked like a cross between a German shepherd and a collie looked up at him with big green eyes, its tongue lolling in a heat-induced smile.

  This pet didn’t belong to the owners of the estate. Alexandre didn’t look to see the dog’s gender, but a cursory glance revealed the mats in his fur and more than a couple of bugs enjoying life on the animal’s skin. If it weren’t for the heavy layer of fur, he was certain the beast would be skin and bones underneath.

  “What do you want?” Alexandre asked. Dogs didn’t like warlocks, and that hadn’t changed once he became a werewolf. Animals in general didn’t trust him, and for good reason.

  He could kill them with less effort than it took to squish the slowest of bugs.

  The dog merely cocked his head, lifting his ear as if to ascertain that he was listening. Alexandre didn’t have time to waste with the mutt. So he ignored his companion except for a quick glamour to hide the beast, and made for the front door. According to the spelled application on his phone, she was close to five-hundred feet beyond the front entrance.

  They’d had almost ten minutes with her, alone.

  Alexandre wouldn’t let them have another second.

  He opened the solid oak door briskly, as if the wind had caught it. No alarms went off, but he and the mutt had to move quickly before a burly man strode into the foyer, his eyes narrowed. With a suspicious glance outside, the man closed and locked the door behind the three of them before pacing a long hallway.

  “That smell,” he murmured loudly, winkling his nose. He disappeared through the last door on the right.

  Alexandre raised an eyebrow at the dog, who smelled more or less of dirt, which wasn’t offensive in the least to him. His unwelcome companion had the decency to lower his head, and Alexandre couldn’t help but grin.

  If the man hadn’t commented upon the dog’s odor, Alexandre wouldn’t have noticed anything. Human scent permeated the air, lingering from humans who’d come days ago, and fresh smells from men and women alike who walked the halls today. Ten people had been inside today, but Alexandre didn’t think that many remained. If any children had ever been to this place, it was so long ago no trace of them remained. Kids had their own clean, delicate fragrance that Alexandre couldn’t imagine here.

  Unwilling for the humans to hear him and the dog, he moved forward slowly, not yet close enough to approach the door.

  “How hard did you hit her? Has she been out this whole time?” The burly man’s voice was an angry hiss.

  “I tranquilized her as soon as I had her in the car. Didn’t need her falling onto the interstate, getting run over, before we found out where her sister is.” The human who’d kidnapped Leila had a deeper, calmer voice, as if he had less riding on this operation than the other man.

  “Kill her as soon as she gives you what you need to find Mary. Every minute she lives brings greater risk for Rodney.” The first man sounded frantic. Maybe he was going to die whether I came here or not.

  “I know, Scott. Do you want to watch this, or would you like to find somewhere else to be?” Leila’s kidnapper growled.

  Scott didn’t answer, but his footsteps were headed straight for Alexandre, who shed his glamour like a too-heavy jacket. He left it on the dog, though. Why not have a secret weapon?

  “You’re going to tell me exactly what you want with Leila and Mary Newman.” A slice of wood fell from the molding, landing on Scott’s arm and writing a certain four-letter word with an –er tacked onto the end. In case the human wasn’t scared enough, Alexandre created an illusion of hell itself beneath the man’s feet, complete with intense heat and the whiff of sulfur. Currently, Scott believed he stood on a very slim piece of wood, which was the only thing keeping him from falling into the fiery abyss.

  As much pleasure as Alexandre would’ve gotten from making it a reality, he needed information first. He motioned for the dog to get back, in case he burned his paws.

  “They’re the senator’s nieces,” Scott answered without argument. He ripped off his blue-and-red-striped tie and threw it to the floor. “We know they’re banshees. If Senator Murphy was outed as a relation to monsters like them, he’ll never be re-elected.”

  Monsters, as the man so kindly phrased them, would never be shown to the world. Of that, Alexandre was certain. If the senator believed it or not, wise and knowledgeable human that he was, would be his own downfall.

  “Do you want to die?” Alexandre growled.

  “No.” Truth reverberated in the hall, no matter how low Scott’s whisper was.

  “Would you have killed her?”

  “No.” The lie was the last thing the man ever said.

  Alexandre had every intention of killing him, except he wasn’t quick enough. The dog—who was male, as it happened—leapt up and tore out the man’s throat in a move that had Alexandre wondering if the beast wasn’t a typical mutt after all. At the very least, he had extraordinarily sharp teeth.

  Without missing a beat, the dog tossed a bit of bone to the floor, shook his nose of blood, and grinned up at Alexandre.

  Bemused, Alexandre petted his head, his own mind swirling with the insanity American politics had become. This man was willing to murder his own family. Rodney Murphy must have been Leila’s uncle, brother to her mother, as solely women could be banshees. He killed his own sister. It was a level of evil unique to the worst of creatures, humans included.

  The most dangerous creatures, however, were those who had someone to protect. Alexandre had no doubt this man cared for only himself.

  One down.

  In less than a moment, he had Scott and his blood camouflaged so the one way anyone would find him would be when they tripped over the body. Alexandre didn’t care to put the man anywhere else—it would take precious minutes away from Leila. From the sound of it, she was stirring.

  As a warlock, his hearing was on par with a human’s. It was becoming were that gave him extremely sensitive ears, which caught onto decibel levels most canines couldn’t. Another reason werewolves always trumped real wolves—and in most cases, shapeshifters, but that had nothing to do with the five senses.

  For a split second, Alexandre considered changing his appearance. He could look like an entirely different person if he wanted to: a lookalike of that Scottish actor Leila admitted to finding so handsome, or the appearance of a thin, nonthreatening man wearing glasses.

  But he couldn’t lie to her again. She deserved to know the truth. Maybe then she’d be so angry she wouldn’t mourn him anymore. Each time he’d seen her cry, he’d desperately wanted to reveal himself to her. When he’d stopped himself, he’d decided it was safer for her. The closer he was, the more danger she would be in. Even if the float didn’t use her against him, he might accidentally hurt her. With as much power as he wielded, it sometimes acted on its own with disastrous results.

  A few weeks ago he’d accidentally turned an entire car to ash. The reason he knew he hadn’t harmed a human was because a woman arrived a few minutes later, pulled out her cell phone and reported her car missing to the New Orleans Police Department.

  Every time he hadn’t walked up to Leila and explained everything, he’d been lying to himself. While he wanted her safety more than anything else, he also couldn’t bear to see her face when he told her what he was. She’d never look at him the same way again, the woman who used to tell him, You’re just good. Out of all the men in the pack, you have the most honor.

  Then, he’d snorted derisively and given her his best, are-you-crazy look. Him, good? No way. He was a convict, for Pete’s sake.

  You’ve never been unkind to anyone unless they objectively deserved it. She’d thought for a moment and raised her finger. You even ate those kale and sweet potato carob chip brownies Briony brought by when no one else would. Even Sebastian wouldn’t do that, and he’s totally into her! Her eyes had narrowed. You’re not into her, are you?

>   Alexandre had laughed, because they both knew how ridiculous that was. Briony terrified him a little with her abject sweetness and magical air. It was just as well that she did end up mating Sebastian. Leila scared him in a completely different way because she held the power to crush him with a few words. I don’t want you.

  Maybe he should go the disguise route.

  No. He’d never liked the movie Anthony Zimmer, nor its American counterpart, The Tourist, anyway.

  He turned to the dog. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter 3

  LEILA came to, cringing when she realized she could only partially open one eye. It took a moment for her to remember Zach following out outside the dance studio. Where had he taken her?

  At first glance, she seemed to be in someone’s home. Her arms were tied behind the back of the hard chair she’d been placed in, and her purse with her phone was nowhere to be found. Her feet were also tied to the wooden chair legs.

  A fishing pole hung on the wall, but there were no pictures. A desk and another chair also occupied the room, which seemed smaller than it really was because of its dark brown, windowless walls. While it was clean of dust or grime, it resembled a cave.

  It was a struggle to breathe, what with the panicked pounding of heart beating so hard against her chest that she was certain it was visible through her clothes. I might die today. She’d been told she wouldn’t fear death until it came. Whoever said that—Aiyanna, maybe—had been right. She didn’t want to die, and she’d fight to keep herself living for as long as her immortality would take her.