It had been a very long time. The In Between, or Chaos Realm to the paranormals who lived among humans, hid a secret not known to everyone. Technically, the Chaos Realm was the borderland between the Fae world—the In Between—and the humans. The violent area where chaos could kill was meant to protect the Fae by keeping humans and other supernaturals from crossing into the In Between. As such, it was a mixture of both, washed over with a monochromatic filter. That filter had grown darker and darker the longer Heath spent time among humans, until it was nothing but violent darkness trying to kill him.
For the first time in a long time, Heath saw a piece of home.
In cool, washed-over shades of gray, white, and black, the In Between spread out before him. Large trees with weeping branches hung with fat leaves of black rimmed in white. Each tree grew from the sharp shards of black grass covering the ground. If he closed his eyes, he could just see the bright pink and green leaves of the Unseelie lands. The way the thin line of green would glow in the darkness throughout the night because there was no day in Unseelie lands—much safer for their pale skin.
He gripped the ground and played with the grass between his fingers. It looked deadly, sharp enough to split through muscle and bone, but for the Fae it was softer than cashmere. A welcoming, grounding substance that tied them to the land. Heath sucked in a pained breath. This was the closest he’d get to seeing home. There were no birds sitting among the branches, no rolling silver clouds heavy in the sky, and no lightning—full of magic and power—sparking and dancing across the sky.
In fact, the In Between was deadly silent.
If he hadn’t heard their breaths, Heath would fear he might be deaf. But it was always like that here, a dampened space between two living lands that could never be one.
Eiravel shifted. “We should get moving. The faster we find our men, the better.”
Heath nodded, getting to his feet. It took a moment before the world stopped spinning beneath him and he sucked in a deep breath.
At least he was in armor. Gleaming black and threaded with silver, it framed his body so he could move swiftly when he danced with his blade. The gear had been designed by his internal magic, along with an infusion of amethyst by Cynes to amplify the gift. Heath reached behind his head and between his shoulder blades to grip the smooth handle of his most trusted companion, Xaerelathimtorhil—Wraith.
Lastly, he closed his eyes, reaching for that internal string his men had pledged to him. Called Heart Tethers, they made an Unseelie the leader of a band. This link allowed them to speak telepathically in short spurts, know general locations of the others, and, if one were to betray the band, it could be used to stop their heart.
To give a Heart Tether to a brother-at-arms was an act of complete trust and love.
Heath was happy he’d been able to gain that with his men—Eiravel, his second, Cynes, Kallan, and Teague. He’d found them in Encantado, hiding in the slums and angered at Silva’s appearance as well. They remembered what she’d done—the pain she’d caused—and it seemed too simple to bond together and fight against her.
Things weren’t what they seemed, and none of them had talked about what had transpired. Eventually, they’d have to.
Heath spun in a slow circle, trying to connect with his other men. “We’ll need to decide on a direction. Nothing is coming through the Tether.”
Eiravel stepped up to his side, his hands hovering over the hilts of his blades on his hips. “Nothing?”
Heath shook his head. “I can feel you two, but even that is muted compared to normal. Maybe it’s the In Between.”
“Then maybe camp would be a better idea. It would give us time to plan what we want to do and then move out,” Cynes offered, checking the tautness of his bowstring against his thumb.
“I don’t want to stay here longer than—”
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
“Kieran!”
“Shadow!”
Heath heard his men call out to him, but he couldn’t say a damn thing as his insides decided they wanted to explode all at the same fucking time. Rooted on his feet, his bones ached under tense muscles as his internal organs rearranged and shifted. Red-hot agony kicked his heart into overdrive as he fought to catch his breath.
“Her. Trapped. Help. She’s here.”
He stumbled a step forward, ripped in that direction. Called again by that voice.
“This way. Must find her. Save her!”
He groaned, his fangs extending until he had to part his lips to keep them from slicing through the bottom one. It was worse than battle rage or feeding. For an Unseelie, the need to consume blood was raw, striking only after serious injury. Their fangs were almost like sensors, coming out when danger was nearby. They picked up extra information and relayed feedback of terrain and powers of the enemy. Very skilled Unseelie could determine more information using their fangs.
This was not one of those times.
He needed blood. Craved it in a way he never had. His cock stiffened painfully beneath his armor, and he had an uncontrollable urge to fuck and drink directly from a vein at the same time.
“Talk to us,” Cynes demanded.
He couldn’t. Oh Norns, he couldn’t. Visions swam in front of him: golden skin sliding over his pale flesh, a tight, wet pussy gripping him so deep inside he’d never get out, and hot blood filling his mouth.
