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Chapter One
Five months ago
“Tell me something happy.” I nestled up against Desmond’s side and gave him my best approximation of puppy-dog eyes, adding an imploring pout to the mix in the hope he might yield to my wishes.
His bare skin was warm, and I ran my fingers through the trail of dark hair leading from his chest down to his belly button. The trail went lower, but for the time being I was trying to keep things PG-13. Knowing me, it wouldn’t last long.
He was an awfully hard man to resist.
“You want me to make up a story?” His eyes were closed, meaning my cutesy faces had all been for nothing, but a hint of a smile played on his lips.
I rested my chin on his chest and stared up at his face. “It doesn’t have to be made up.”
Outside, a car honked, and the sounds of New York at night filtered down into my basement apartment. Soon I’d need to get out of bed and head to the council headquarters, but for now I wanted to spend the first few minutes of my night with my handsome werewolf boyfriend, and I wanted to think uncomplicated, cheerful thoughts.
“Okay, I have a story for you.” His voice was thick with sleep, and I suspected he’d only gotten into our bed shortly before I awoke. He had a day job, a real one, that kept him from sharing my weird nocturnal schedule. I rarely noticed because I slept the whole day, but his exhaustion was apparent enough right now.
Burying my arms under his back, I turned my face so my cheek lay against his stomach, and I smiled as his body rose and fell with each breath. “Tell me.”
“Once upon a time there was a princess.”
I grimaced at the word but said nothing.
“This princess was beautiful, but also very stubborn.”
“Hey.”
“Shush. This is my story.”
Though it was impossible to see from my current position, I could imagine his self-satisfied smirk with little difficulty.
“Fine, go on.”
“One day the princess met a handsome man in the woods.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Well, the princess isn’t too smart.”
I bit his stomach playfully, and in return he grabbed my hair and gave it a tug.
“So she meets a handsome stranger,” I said.
“Yes. They meet and fall in love. And even though the princess was betrothed to another prince, she figured, fuck that guy, and ran away with the handsome stranger.”
I sucked in a breath. Ah, yes, the other prince. Or more specifically, the king. I had to wonder how long Lucas Rain was going to be an elephant in the room for Desmond and me. But this wasn’t the time to ask.
I kissed him on his abs, and he shifted, propping himself on his elbows so he was looking down at me.
“And they lived happily ever after?” I asked.
He smiled. “I like to think so.”
Now
New York City was burning.
I used to think I was the levelheaded one in a crisis. Usually when things got bad, I knew what to do and could react accordingly.
But standing outside the Lincoln Tunnel, looking up at the hazy orange glow of the city on fire, my mind had gone blank.
Sirens wailed in the distance, and I was vaguely aware of screaming. But there was too much going on for me to focus on any one thing.
“What the hell is happening?” Desmond came up beside me, reminding me I wasn’t alone. He put his phone in his pocket. On our way through the tunnel he’d been calling his mother to make sure she and his sister were safe. Since he didn’t say anything, I had to assume they’d gotten out or found protection.
I glanced back at him and then to Holden. The vampire, my friend and former lover, had placed his arm protectively around my sister, Eugenia. Genie, a witch and werewolf, had seen some pretty wild stuff in her eighteen years, but I was betting none of it could compare to what she was seeing now.
She was staring up at the sky wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
Even Holden, who was over two hundred years old, was gazing at the scene before us with barely restrained awe.
“Secret?” Desmond placed his hand on my shoulder, and I returned my attention to him. It was only then I realized I hadn’t spoken once since we got out of the car.
“We need to find Keaty,” I announced.
There were dozens of places we could have gone, people we could have sought out, and some of them might have been more logical than Francis Keats. But the fact was, there was no one in the world I respected more in a time of crisis than my business partner.
If anyone would know what to do, it would be Keaty.
The next problem we faced would be getting there.
The streets were littered with abandoned cars, some left with their doors wide open and the ping-ping-ping sound of interior warning chimes going off. Driving towards Central Park would be impossible—not that driving in the city was ever the fastest way to get anywhere.
“We’ll have to walk.”
“Secret,” Genie said, her voice quivering. “Don’t you think maybe we should go back?”
On our way into the city we’d seen hundreds of cars crawling their way out. It seemed like everyone was fleeing. Yet we had gone in. Now that we were here, there was no way in hell I was going to put my tail between my legs and run.
“If our friends are still here, we’re going to find them.” My
