“This wasn’t here a week ago,” Klyn says.

  My gaze snaps back to his. “It’s Tori,” I say quietly. “This curse is affecting her gift for plants. Turning them to poison.”

  He snatches his hand away. “You’re telling me this vine is poisonous?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I advise not touching it.”

  He stares at me for a beat. “Good plan.”

  “What did you find?” I ask.

  He sighs. “Not the information I wanted.”

  I tense, not sure how to feel about that answer. I sent him to the Earth realm in an attempt to uncover anything more about this curse or how to end it. And Klyn’s never returned from a mission empty-handed. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s as you said. There’s no trace of your bloodline anywhere.”

  By bloodline, he means my mother. Neither of us wants to say the word, but she’s the only possible culprit here.

  “Last known whereabouts?”

  “The trail is over a thousand years old, so I can’t say for sure. I hired a tracker to follow it, and we’ll know more in a few days.”

  I bite back the frustration of hitting a dead end even temporarily. Not that I want my mother to be alive, but this curse came from my blood—and I can’t rest until it’s broken. “I need confirmation,” I say.

  “You’ll have it. We won’t stop looking until we find the answers,” Klyn says.

  “And the Crimson Roses?” I ask. “Did you look into them?”

  “From what I can tell, the Crimson Roses make up the city’s organized crime. The gang, which is mostly vamps, is divided into several smaller cells, each with its own hierarchy of leadership. They do it this way to keep the lower members from knowing too much about those at the top. Makes it kind of difficult to uncover the identities of the key players.”

  My brows lift at that. “Are you saying you couldn’t get a name?”

  “Hell no. I’m saying you should appreciate my resourcefulness. The people who are after Tori are the same ones who hired her for her last job.”

  “Klyn, give me a name.”

  “She goes by Em.”

  “Vampire?”

  “Not sure. The members I spoke to all gave differing answers.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  He shrugs. “That’s all I know.”

  “I thought I was supposed to appreciate your resourcefulness.”

  “I’m just keeping some of the mystery alive for you. So you feel like you did some of the work yourself.”

  I shake my head. “Where do I find her?”

  “There’s a club on the outskirts of the Crossroads. Apparently, it’s a hub for the gang. Owned by some vamp named Uziah. She’s been seen there a few times.”

  I frown.

  “What?” Klyn asks.

  “Uziah. Tori mentioned that name back at her house. From the sound of it, she has a history with him.” Jealousy has me tightening my hands into fists.

  Klyn notes my reaction. “You want me to ask around at the club? See if I can set up a meeting?”

  “No, I need you here. Caius sent word that the suspect from the bombing is in custody, but there’s still the debrief, and I’m sure there are a million reports to write.”

  “You’re making me do your reports? Again?”

  “What can I say? You’re the best.”

  He snorts. “I’ll try to suck at it from now on.”

  “Too late. Your secret’s out. Besides, this is my problem to handle.”

  “You do realize her connections would make it easy to set that meeting, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re going to take her out there?”

  I look over at the dark vines. “I have to do something. We can’t go on like this.”

  Klyn snorts. “That’s for damn sure.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I glare at him, but that only makes him grin wider.

  “Your blue balls are making us all grumpy. Go get laid, boss. The world will still be waiting for you to burn it down when you get back.”

  Chapter 22

  Tori

  Ilie awake well past midnight, the memory of Legion’s touch still lingering on my aching body. Instead of sleeping nude like usual, I dress in a thin layer—just in case. Part of me hopes Legion will show up for an encore and touch me like he did in the library. But the other part knows that would be way too dangerous. Alone, I retrace his movements with my own hand. The thin fabric of my panties offers the same delicious friction from earlier, and I send myself over the edge into orgasm quicker than I expect. But it’s not the same. And it’s not nearly enough.

  Legion’s promise from earlier replays in my mind. I can’t deny I want what he’s offering: to break this curse and let him make me come with his bare hands.

  I know I should hate him for what he did to me, and maybe I do. Maybe I’m just tainted by my own poisoned heart, but I want Legion despite knowing he did this to me. And despite knowing what he’s done in his past. Maybe that makes me a monster too.

  When I finally drift off to sleep, my dreams are filled with him. I’m at the primal hunt, being watched by a crowd, though I want him so badly, I don’t care. He chases me down—hunts me—and I let him catch me, my entire body yearning for what comes next. He kisses me, touches me, his hands and his tongue tracing the dark veins on my skin—right up until the moment he succumbs to a slow death. The last thing he whispers in my nightmare is “You win.”

  In the morning, I shove aside the guilt that pricks at me. It’s stupid to feel bad for killing a guy when it was only a dream. But the idea of hurting Legion even if it means saving myself leaves me strangely off-balance today.

  Kendall’s already gone when I check her room. I find her in the kitchen, her hands covered in flour as Chaya and the cook instruct her on forming the dough for bread.

  “Hey,” I say, relieved to see her settling into this place so easily. “Have you seen Legion?”

  “Not since breakfast,” Kendall says.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize I missed it.”

  “By about an hour,” the cook says with pointed disapproval.

  “Sorry. I guess I overslept.”

  The awkward silence leaves me feeling like a fourth wheel, so I excuse myself and snag some fruit for a quick breakfast on my way out.

  Legion isn’t in his study, nor do I run into him in the library. My gaze lingers on the spot where I stood while he touched me last night. My body heats at the memory, and I pull myself away reluctantly before continuing to wander from room to room.

  While I explore, I find myself imagining a life here. In Tartarus. In this house. Wearing gloves and scarves for the rest of my life. Unable to touch another. And while I want nothing more than to be free of this stupid curse, for a fleeting moment, I almost convince myself I could be content like this. I could live out a quiet life, no more need to kill anyone. Or maybe I could go back to growing poisons. I’m certainly better at it than ever. I’d contract myself to the king rather than the outlaws this time. No more looking over my shoulder. Kendall and Chaya could be together. The idea of it feels almost peaceful. Almost enough.

  Until that future vision is shattered by a familiar deep voice that somehow reaches all the way inside me and yanks away the lie that I could ever be happy not touching him.

  “Looking for me?”

  I whirl where I stand inside an empty guest room and find Legion standing in the doorway. The fact that I didn’t hear him arrive is evidence of how distracted I am. But the way my entire body reacts to the sight of him is proof that what happened between us isn’t something I can ignore.

  Whatever we’re doing here, it’s changed.

  “I… this room is beautiful,” I say, trying to find my bearings.

  He doesn’t look away from me as he says, “Chaya chose the furnishings. I’ll tell her you said so.”

  My stomach tightens as jealousy spears through me. Ridiculous. She’s fourteen? Fifteen? There’s nothing between them. Still… she takes care of him. Of this place. I don’t like how it feels to imagine it. A life without me in it.

  “Why?” I can’t help but ask. “Why do you furnish the rooms so beautifully? Why do you stock them with clothing and toiletries?”

  “I found Chaya four years ago. Her parents died when she was six, and her uncle sold her to pay his bar tab when she was eight.”

  My eyes widen as the horror of that punches me in the gut. “That’s horrible.”

  “She’s been through a lot,” he agrees. “When I found her, I brought her here and gave her a room. Clothes. Food. It took her two years to talk to me.” He smiles wistfully, remembering.

  I can only stare at him, struck by this compassionate, caring side. Who knew the death dragon moonlighted as a philanthropist? Embarrassment flushes my cheeks as I realize I’d assumed he forced her to serve him here, and all along she’d been here willingly.

  “So, you keep the rooms stocked for others like her?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “We help anyone we can. None of the others have stayed. Well, besides Brigita. The cook,” he adds at my confusion.

  “She was a rescue?”

  His mouth quirks. “Sure, if we’re calling it that. And I wouldn’t use that term to her face. Anyway, it’s something I can do for those who need it, so I do.”

  The way he says it is so simple, so matter-of-fact. And my heart melts.

  It’s not something I saw coming, and I’m not prepared for the way my walls crumble.

  “How long have you lived at the Keep?” I ask, suddenly interested in filling in more of the backstory for the man I’d assumed was a monster.

  “Four thousand years,” he says.

  I blink, a little overwhelmed at trying to imagine being stuck here for that long. Or anywhere, for that matter.

  “That’s a long time to be imprisoned,” I say.

  “Prison is made in the mind,” he says, frowning. “And I was in prison long before I was cast into Tartarus.”

  “I see.”

  I don’t, really, but he doesn’t elaborate.

  “And the first thousand years,” I say. “What was that like? Where did you live then?”

  “I didn’t live anywhere. Putting down roots would have meant accepting my fate, and I didn’t want to do that for a long time.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Friendship.”

  Whatever I’m expecting him to say, it’s not that. The death dragon being won over by friendship—in a prison world, no less—shatters another layer of judgment and stereotype I’ve been carrying.

  “You’re not what I expected,” I say finally.

  “Neither are you.”

  The way he looks at me reminds me of the way he watched me touch myself. The moon fever clearly wasn’t the only reason for that night. I lick my lips, remembering what it felt like to know how much power I held over him.

  To know how much he wanted me.

  The silence between us stretches, but it’s charged now. Full of a tension that’s less hostile than the other times before.

  Whatever shift happened last night, an even larger one has just happened today. In this moment. I don’t know what to do with that. Or if he senses it too. But I need to find my way back to solid ground. Fast.

  I’m not here to fall for him. I’m here to survive. Except that, the more time I spend with him, the more intertwined those two things become.

  “Can we talk?” I ask, nerves dancing in my belly. “Somewhere more private?”

  “Of course. He steps aside, motioning for me to go first. When I step into the hall, he points and says, “Last door on the left.”

  I follow his directions, almost positive he’s staring at my ass while he follows me. At the end of the hall, I push through the closed door only to stop at the delicious scent of him filling the space so entirely. It’s not just scent either. There’s a presence of him here unlike anywhere else in the house.

  My gaze sweeps the room. A large bed with mahogany posts sits on my right, framed by two windows overlooking the back garden and, beyond that, a gorgeous view of the open sky. The bedspread is a deep crimson color that reminds me of the hellfire he breathed that day in my yard. Velvet curtains done in crimson and black hang on either side.

  Opposite that, a desk and chair sit near a charcoal-colored loveseat that is draped in a soft throw blanket and matching pillows. A stack of books sits on the floor, crooked and ready to topple over.

  I whirl at the sound of him behind me.

  “This is your bedroom,” I say, noting how cozy he’s managed to make the space. It reminds me of Chaya’s words. A safe space.

  “Do you like it?”

  I glance at the bed. “It’s…cozier than I expected,” I admit.

  He smirks. “Bed’s even more comfortable than it looks.”

  Before I can answer, he pushes the door shut with a click, sealing us in together. My heart thuds. My body pulses, and the thrum beneath my skin is full of anticipation. The memory of last night washes over me. The knowledge that he can make me come without being skin-to-skin is a thrill, but it also makes me feel desperate for a world where barriers aren’t needed. Because, somehow, even standing several steps away from him feels incredibly intimate.

  “What would you like to discuss?”

  “Legion,” I say, not even sure how or where to start.

  He waits, giving me time.

  “Last night,” I say finally, and his gaze darkens. The mate bond pulls taut between us, both of us straining toward it.

  “Did you like it, my little poisoned flower?” he asks, his voice low.

  I swallow hard against the urge to tell him I liked it so much that I played an encore alone. “Did you mean what you said?” I ask instead.

  He blinks, but there’s no hesitation when he says, “Yes.”

  He doesn’t even ask what I’m talking about. For some reason, that makes me believe him even more.

  “You said today would be busy. What did you mean?”

  I almost expect him to refuse to answer me. Or to make up some bullshit alphahole story about what he’s going to do while I sit and twiddle my thumbs. Either one would have ruined what we’ve built so far.

  So, I’m shocked when he says, “Tell me about Uziah.”

  “What?”

  “He owns a club where the Crimson Roses do business, right?”

  “Yes, but how do you know about him? Or the club?”

  “I had Klyn look into the people who are after you. He said the client who hired you for your last mission is the one who’s after you now. He couldn’t dig up much else on her, so we need another angle for information.”

  I sigh. “I only know her as Em. But Uziah won’t help us. He’s already done all he can.”

  “And what exactly is that?”

  “He’s the one who made the deal for me. To trade your life for mine.”

  His eyes narrow. “And the one who sold you out to them.”

  “He was a friend of my father’s, but that doesn’t make him one of the good guys,” I say.

  “Yes, that’s clear.”

  “Look, this is how things work in the Crossroads. It’s not like Tartarus.”

  “And how does Tartarus work?”

  “I guess I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it.”

  “Would you like to?”

  The question throws me off. “I don’t know. What do you mean?”

  “Come into town with me. Let me show you around.”

  I stare back at him, not sure where this is coming from. “What happened to a busy day of curse-breaking?”

  “I asked Klyn to help me track down someone who might be able to give us answers, but he hasn’t found them yet.”

  My brow goes up at that. “Another goat woman?”

  “No. Someone in the Earth realm.”

  “Okay.” I draw out the word, hoping he’ll elaborate.

  “We’ll know more in a few days.”

  “And in the meantime, you want to play tourist in your own realm?”

  “I want to show you this world has more to offer than being a prison.”

  “Isn’t that what it’s been for you?”

  “At first,” he admits. “But then it became an escape. And from there, a home. A chance to stop running.”

  “What could you possibly have to run from?”

  His expression darkens, a shadow haunting his eyes so deeply that I know he’s holding something back from me. “So, your father’s former friend specifically offered a deal for the death dragon, huh? What else did Uziah say about me?”

  “That you’re capable of destruction beyond this realm’s comprehension. But everyone in the Crossroads knows that.”

  Legion doesn’t answer.

  The silence leaves me more convinced of a secret hanging between us.

  “What’s this really about?” I ask.

  “My… reputation offers a challenge that is irresistible to the greedy and foolish.”

  His voice is hard now, his expression unyielding, as if I’ve somehow offended him. It makes no sense.

  “What are you talking about? Your reputation is that of a killer. They call you the death dragon. Who would be stupid enough to mess with someone like that?”

  He gives me a pointed look that has me rolling my eyes. My temper is a streak of impatience that has me snapping, “Don’t change the subject. Tell me what this is about.”

  He sighs. “My bloodline is a commodity I can’t afford to expose.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My bloodline. You asked why Klyn and I were talking about it the other night. This is it.”

  I study him warily. “Why can’t you expose it?”

  “Because it would make me even more of a target.”

  “A target?” I think of how valuable and rare dragon parts are in the Crossroads. Scales, tears, blood, even toenails. I know several treasure hunters in the Crossroads who would kill for a score like that. Uziah’s guys, especially.