“At least we’re playing on our home field now,” Simon replied. “The enchanted workout room is a perfect battlefield.”

  “Yeah. There’s no better way to train, and the simulation scenarios made everything more fun. Let’s hope the plan works and more don’t turn up.”

  “I’m sure this’ll keep them at bay for a while. Besides, we had no choice. There were too many of them this time. I counted seven prisoners.”

  I too had counted the posts to which we’d bound the Subterraneans. Two were missing. “One died right before my eyes. He was about to attack me when a Witch ran him through.”

  “Eight Executioners in one night? Not bad. What sons of bitches. The Màsala have decided not to cut us any slack.”

  “Nine, actually,” Devina called out nonchalantly, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

  “You mean you killed another one?!” I shot to my feet and confronted the Witch. I’d assumed one of them had escaped, but instead Devina had killed him, risking ruining our plan.

  “Calm down, Spartan,” she said in a lilting voice. “I understand the rules: only prisoners.”

  “Couldn’t you have understood it before?” Simon reproached her.

  “Don’t you realize what this might mean for us?!” I growled, inches from her face. “We have a plan. Follow it.”

  “Evan is right, Dev,” Anya spoke up, walking through the door with two other Sisters. She was the one who, in panther form, had growled at Devina when she provoked me. I’d recognized her by her emerald eyes. “We can’t kill them any more. For every Subterranean we get rid of, another one will show up. Or maybe more. Who knows?”

  “Imprisoning Desdemona worked,” Simon reassured her. “It’ll work again this time.”

  “I think so too, but we need to be careful and not let our instincts get the better of us.” Anya cast a reproachful glance at her Sister who hadn’t been able to hold back in battle.

  “What a bore! You’re taking all the fun out of it!” Devina complained. Anya rolled her eyes. “I killed a Subterranean, but I wasn’t the only one. Why are you taking it out on me?!” She looked accusingly at Bathsheeva.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault!” Bathsheeva protested. “I saw you, you killed him on purpose. I had to do it. There were three of them and that bastard was making things rough for me. He was armed to the teeth and he wounded my Dakor. He had these strange razor-sharp brass knuckles—I’d never seen anything like them. They got smeared with my Dakor’s poison. While I was capturing the other two he got away. He was about to attack Evan with that weird weapon of his and would have killed him if I hadn’t shown up in time.” The Witch sent me a fleeting glance and I nodded to her in acknowledgement.

  “So what? Sophìa’s orders are to protect Gemma, not her boy toy,” Devina said with a sneer.

  I glowered at her. I couldn’t stand how she jeered at me like she owned me. I knew what she was thinking: if the Subterranean had hit me with his poisoned weapon, I would have ended up back in Hell where she could do with me as she pleased.

  “Forgive her,” Anya said. “She’s a real Witch when—No, she’s like that practically all the time.”

  “It’s nice to know you speak so affectionately about me behind my back, little Sister.”

  “I wasn’t speaking behind your back. You know for yourself you act like a bitch. It’s what you do best.”

  “Touché.” Devina gave a shrug of satisfaction.

  “Do I really have to stay here?” Simon asked.

  The grimace that twisted Devina’s face got a smile out of me. Maybe once in a while it had to get to even her to know her company wasn’t enjoyed.

  “Is Gemma with Gwen?” Anya asked, suddenly worried again. I nodded to reassure her and looked outside. Beyond the hexagonal picture window, darkness shrouded everything.

  “Nerea, Safria, join Gwen upstairs. We should reinforce our surveillance.”

  The two Witches nodded and left us, morphing into panthers before climbing the stairs. I nodded to Anya, grateful for her consideration. Though Gemma hadn’t transformed yet, most of her Sisters were already treating her as one of their own. In recent days I’d been surprised by how loyally the Witches had helped us protect her.

  “We have to keep up our guard,” Anya said. “Bathsheeva killed an Executioner to protect Evan, and Devina slew one because . . .” She looked at her Sister reproachfully. “Well, because otherwise she wouldn’t be Devina.”

  “Blah blah blah,” Devina said, responding to the accusation in a singsong voice.

  “We’ve imprisoned seven, but we know for certain two more will soon be after Gemma. Over the last few nights we’ve had time to study each of them, but we have no idea who they’ll send in now. We don’t know when they’ll attack next. Still, there’s no doubt that—” A sudden hiss sliced through the air, cutting Anya short.

  We spun around in alarm and Devina smiled at us, pleased. “Problem solved.” The Witch filed her nails with the shaft of her whip as we all stared at her, wordless. On the ground, an Executioner who’d appeared from nowhere writhed beneath the iron grip of her heel, while another hung from the wall, unconscious, behind the Witch. “You might consider thanking me at this point.”

  Simon’s relieved laugh filled the room and I shook my head, my tension draining away. He loathed Devina, maybe even more than I did—she was the one who had betrayed Ginevra and made the Sisterhood drive her out of her world, putting both their lives in jeopardy. However, crossing the latest two Subterraneans off our list would make life easier, and for once it was thanks to her.

  “Great job, Dev,” Anya said sincerely. “Now let’s take them down to join the others.”

  “I’m not guarding the Children of Eve if I can’t even kill them,” the redheaded Witch complained, heading toward the workout room.

  “Yes you are, if you want at least to have a little fun with them. I bet you can’t wait.” Anya winked at me. They dragged the two unconscious Subterraneans through the door leading downstairs and closed it behind them. I was infinitely grateful for her gesture: it finally left me free to go to Gemma.

  “The best way to start the day, don’t you think?” Simon slapped me on the shoulder and I grimaced from the pain of the cuts and bruises on my chest. “Nice work with that Carpathian,” he said, grinning.

  “Carpathian?”

  “That’s what Drake would have called him. You see how big that guy was?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure Drake would have had a blast this time.” I missed my brother Drake terribly—we all did—and the awareness that I would never see him again was devastating. Still, I couldn’t blame him for deciding to stay in Hell with the woman he loved. If I were in his shoes I would have done the same thing. “Things aren’t so bad for him down there. He has his Stella. I wish you could’ve met her. She’s a tough one.”

  “Just what Drake needed to get his act together!”

  We both burst out laughing.

  “Anyway, you weren’t bad yourself, though that gash in your side is pretty gruesome,” I said, teasing him. We were both bare-chested, our skin dirty and scratched from the battle.

  “Yeah, those fireballs sure are annoying when they hit you.”

  I laughed. Annoying? I well remembered how blindingly painful it was when a Subterranean struck you with his angel fire. The battle with Drake’s impersonator had really put me to the test. “Want me to give you a hand with that?”

  “Stay away,” he warned me with a little smile. “We both know you can’t wait to run up those stairs. Besides,” he said, waggling his eyebrows, “battle wounds are the world’s most powerful aphrodisiac, didn’t you know? Now get out of here. And while you’re at it send the blond down to me. Go on, leave me alone before this gash heals.” He added in a whisper, “Ginevra goes crazy for little games like this.”

  “You two are completely insane.”

  “What can I do?” Simon shrugged.

  I shook my head, leaving him in the living room. I’d battled Subterraneans all night long, so I should have been exhausted. Instead, the thought of going to Gemma filled me with pure energy. I took the stairs three at a time, electrified at the idea of being with her. I still hadn’t forgotten the feeling of that terrible void deep in my heart when they’d torn her away from me. At times, when the memories of Hell filled my head, that same terrible sensation of loss returned and it felt like I was losing my mind. Now that we were together again, I wanted her beside me every second.

  I stopped outside the door to my room where she was sleeping. Two Drusas—Nerea and Safria—were standing guard in their feline form. They had shiny black fur and sharp yellow and blue eyes that glinted in the half-light. Beneath Nerea’s coat I glimpsed a faint spotted pattern, while Safria’s was as clear as night. They both bowed their heads and moved aside for me. Inside the room, a large black panther with jade-green eyes rose majestically to its feet and a shiver ran through me. I still wasn’t used to seeing Ginevra in her feline manifestation. In animal form, the Witches could better perceive their Subterranean enemies, which was why they often transformed when given the task of acting as Drusas. I studied her, fascinated. Within the walls of the house they looked larger, yet they moved so gracefully. If you stared at them for too long, you were in danger of being bewitched. Ginevra was beautiful and intimidating at the same time. Her threatening green eyes struck fear into the heart. On her forehead, a white droplet-shaped patch stood out against her black fur. She moved forward elegantly and assumed her human appearance.

  Simon had insisted she be the one to watch over Gemma so she would stay out of the battle. I’d immediately backed him up, because with Ginevra guarding her I would feel more secure, more able to focus on the fight. It was surprising to see the bond that had formed between her and Gemma while I was away. Ginevra had been at her side and had protected her like a Sister even before she’d known Gemma was destined to become one. Even Simon had proven to be protective toward her, and for that I would be eternally grateful to them.

  When I’d lost everything, including myself, they’d taken me in and given me a new life. I realized part of Ginevra’s affection toward Gemma was due to the dark nature buried inside her—a nature they shared. Yet I’d known Ginevra for centuries, and seeing her so attached to the person I loved most in the world filled me with pride. It was unique, sensational.

  Ginevra smiled at me, reading in my mind how anxious I was to be alone with Gemma. “Shouldn’t you take a shower first?” she joked, gesturing at my bruised, soot-covered chest.

  “Somebody told me war wounds are really sexy.” I ran a hand up my neck, grinning. “Speaking of which, that somebody is waiting for you downstairs.” I winked at her.

  “Better not keep him waiting, then.” Smiling, she stole out of the room.

  “Hey, Gin,” I said before she shut the door behind her. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll have the Drusas stand guard downstairs. That way you can have a little time to yourselves. Just be sure you don’t make too much noise—you and your war wounds,” she teased with a sly grin. I chuckled and she closed the door softly to avoid waking Gemma.

  A blue book lay on the floor. I picked it up. It was her diary. She must have dozed off while writing in it. I stroked the embossing on the cover and set it on the nightstand, then stared at her in the dim light. Her skin glowed like silver and her ebony-black hair was spread out on the pillow. I clenched my fists to contain the wave of emotion that flooded me.

  Gemma was lying on her side, fast asleep. I moved closer to the bed. The sheet was pulled back, leaving her legs bare. I stroked her knee and thought of covering it so she wouldn’t be cold, but instead my hand slowly rose up her thigh, moving the fabric away. I breathed deeply, forcing myself to get a grip, but just then Gemma parted her lips and desire threatened to overwhelm me.

  I lay down behind her, our bodies nestling together like two perfect halves, and stared at the soft curve of her bosom as it rose and fell to the tranquil rhythm of her heart. Brushing the hair from her face, I touched my nose to her ear and breathed in her scent. I closed my eyes, overcome with love for her. My hand ran down her side and slowly slid to her belly, where a tiny creature was growing inside her—a creature I already loved with all my soul. I sought her hand beneath the covers and squeezed it, impatient to join her in her dream.

  Do not destroy this tacit silence

  but leave me, I beg you,

  to these melancholy shadows.

  Let me perish with the sun.

  Giuseppe Strazzant

  THE COLORS OF THE SOUL

  “Hey.” Gemma opened her eyes and squeezed my hand, turning to face me.

  “Hey,” I whispered back, stroking her palm with my thumb. I raised her hand to my mouth and kissed it, gazing at her the whole time.

  She closed her eyes, turned all the way over and slid her knee between my legs. The gesture set my blood on fire. I drew her to me and was on top of her in a flash, my lips on her neck and my hips pressed against hers. “Jamie . . .” I sought her mouth and she arched her back, yearning for my body. I cupped her bottom with my hand and pulled her against me roughly, responding to her need as our breathing mingled, trembling with desire.

  Gemma clutched my dog tag in her fingers and kept me pulled against her, burning with the same passion that consumed me. She kissed me sweetly on the mouth, quenching my instincts. I prolonged the kiss, moving slowly. Resting my forehead against hers, I tried to regain control of my breathing. “Good morning.” I looked her in the eye and she smiled at me.

  “This is a great way to wake up. Just be careful—I’m going to expect this every morning.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. I’m a pretty busy guy.” I shot her a teasing grin and she punched me on the shoulder.

  “Hey!”

  I laughed, swept her up in my arms, and pulled her on top of me. “I’m yours. Every morning of every day to come.” I fixed my eyes on hers to make sure she knew I meant every word.

  Gemma pretended to think it over and then decided to smile at me. She ran her finger down my chest, looking me in the eye. “Now will you explain why you’re half-naked in my bed? What are your intentions?”

  “To unleash your most deeply buried instincts. Wasn’t it clear?” I raised an eyebrow, still teasing her. Her jaw dropped in pretended shock. “I must say I’m surprised by how easily I managed to do it. Clearly some of your instincts aren’t buried so deeply after all.” I laughed, enjoying the range of reactions Gemma was trying to hide from me, even though I could sense her every emotion. “Besides, have you always slept in only your underwear?”

  She let out a playful gasp, covering herself with the sheet.

  “It’s not my fault you got uncovered in your sleep.”

  “And you didn’t even bother to cover me, I bet!”

  “Uh . . . Yeah, sure. I mean, I was just about to.”

  “You . . . !” She pulled the pillow out from under my head and started to hit me with it.

  Unable to block the blows, I grabbed her wrists and both of us laughed like little kids. When we finally ran out of laughter, she turned on her side, facing me.

  “She was haunting his soul and he vowed to haunt her dreams,” I murmured. I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she watched my every movement, mesmerized. How could love cause such restlessness deep in one’s heart? Immense joy, tumultuous passion . . . the agonizing fear of losing her. Love was a generous thief. It had stolen my heart, taking me prisoner, but never had a prison been so sweet and so necessary. It didn’t matter how long I’d fought it or how hard I’d tried to control it. In the end, it had conquered me, my instincts, my desires. All I had to do was look at Gemma to understand that my world had changed. She was both my Heaven and my Hell.

  There could be no Evan without Gemma.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Gemma raised an eyebrow slyly. “Well? Why are you shirtless? And more importantly, why do you have blood and dirt all over you?”

  My wounds had healed, but maybe I should have taken Ginevra’s advice and washed off all traces of the battle. “Let’s just say last night was a bit lively.”

  “What happened? Did they hurt you? Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked, agitated.

  “We carried out our plan,” I said, point-blank.

  “Last night?!”

  “They tried to attack us all at once again. It was the perfect opportunity. One of them even came in here.”

  “What? How?!”

  “Don’t worry. He didn’t even touch you. Ginevra took care of him. We had to act fast. The Witches relaxed their defense of the house, convincing the Executioners they’d found a way in. At that point we lured them into the workout room.”

  “Did the simulation scenarios work? And the defenses?”

  I nodded. “It was a perfect battlefield. None of them managed to dematerialize and we got them all.”

  “All of them? You mean nine Subterraneans captured in just one night?!”

  “Actually, there was a slight delay with two of them, but Devina handled the problem.”

  “Devina? You mean redheaded Devina the Witch slash Cruella de Vil?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Gemma closed her mouth and I smiled. She was so sweet when she got jealous. I pulled her by the wrist and rubbed my nose against hers to ease the agitation that the memory of Devina and me in Hell caused her. “Hey, weren’t you the one who had the idea of imprisoning the Subterraneans instead of killing them?” She nodded, pride sparkling in her eyes.

  “What was the name of the one who tried to off you when I was gone?”

  “Desdemona. Have I told you I was the one who killed her?” she replied, secretly pleased.

  I feigned surprise and shock. “And how did you do that, pray tell?”

  “I shot her.” She shrugged, as if she’d just told me she’d made scrambled eggs.