CHAPTER 1

Elder Vlad stood by the desecrated mausoleum peering down at the charred male corpse. Blue blood slowly blackened beneath the visible pulsing veins in the paper-thin skin of Vlad’s bald head while his black irises completely overtook the whites of his eyes. The Vampires around him were quiet and still under the blue-white wash of moonlight in the cemetery, awaiting his permission to investigate. Fury threaded through his body like dark tendrils of hatred, although the ancient vampire remained stoic.

“Who did this?” His rhetorical question was uttered between his fangs with deadly calm. He already knew the culprits; his angry query was simply a command for external confirmation. Elder Vlad glanced up, holding his top hunter lieutenant’s gaze, and impatiently waited for an answer.

“We believe it had to be Unseelie Fae, Your Excellency. Just like the others.” Caleb dropped to one leather-clad knee, allowing his long spill of platinum hair to flow over his shoulders as he more closely examined the Vampire ash. The black leather coat Caleb wore dusted the ground, billowing out around him from supernatural fury.

“Undoubtedly death by daylight invasion,” Caleb said, suddenly looking up baring fangs as his rage kindled. “I suspect that Monroe Bonaventure went to ground, sleeping here in his mausoleum for fear that since the mansions of so many others had been recently overrun that his might be as well. But they found the poor bastard anyway.”

“He was my sixth and last viceroy in the region.” Elder Vlad paced away with silent footsteps, beginning to levitate from his unspent anger, and then he turned quickly to speak in a burst of rage to the assembled hunters. “We are of the caste Vampyre! We are the eternal night! That we fear anything is sacrilege! We are the definition of fear in the supernatural world! It is our kind that has always been at the top of the food chain for millennia! By all that is unholy, I vow that there will be merciless redress for this offense. Tell me, dear Mara, what clues have you uncovered, before I formally declare war..   Transylvania will want to know why and I shall give them indisputable proof.”

Mara traced the edges of the broken door hinges and locks around the opened crypt with her fingers. Only her long brunette hair moved in the gentle night breeze as she stopped for a second to peer at Elder Vlad, remaining momentarily eerily still.

“This metal was fractured by sudden freezing.   temperatures so cold that a mere tap would have shattered them,” she finally said. Her smoldering dark gaze beheld Caleb’s ice blue stare for a moment before returning to Elder Vlad. “Our local Seelie Fae do not work with such extreme temperatures,” she murmured, her voice sounding like a seductive forensic expert’s. “Nor do the wolves.”

Elder Vlad narrowed his gaze and looked off into the distance. “No, they don’t, do they.”

Mara shook her head. “Sir Rodney is many things, but a fool he is not,” she said with a low hiss between her fangs.

“Your orders, Your Excellency?” Caleb asked, rising to stand with his head bowed before the ancient leader of the North American Vampire Cartel.

“Fix this,” Elder Vlad murmured. “Make sure the Unseelie have a list of names for which we demand blood restitution. And do be sure to let Queen Cerridwen of Hecate know how very displeased I am.”

“Queen Cerridwen of Hecate,” Rupert announced, bowing before Sir Rodney as he entered the war room with Garth and a formidable retinue of palace guards.

“Cerridwen,” Sir Rodney said in an even tone, offering her a slight bow while refreshing his Fae ale. “And to what do I owe the rare pleasure—especially at this hour, unannounced, and well after I have declared war on you via Fae missive for your treason of siding with Vampires against my kingdom?”

“I was set up, Rodney. Purely and simply.” Queen Cerridwen casually shed her mink coat and walked forward, allowing it to pool on the floor behind her. “I received your missive and I suspect that you received mine stating that all is forgiven. We are not at war.   what has been between us has been a bitter disagreement at times—something that occasionally happens amongst evenly matched rivals—but never war. However, we are now under siege.”

“Rivals,” he said flatly, his sapphire gaze holding hers for ransom.

“Among other things,” she said softly. “Is that not sometimes the outgrowth of passion.   for lovers to become rivals?”

“Or enemies.”

Her cool gaze warmed him as it slowly raked him from head to toe.

“You don’t mean that,” she murmured. “I have known you a long time, my summer prince. Your warmth always belies the coldness of your words.”

Sir Rodney glanced over her head at his men who rimmed the room in protection, noting how they bristled at the queen’s blatant attempt to lure him into complacency with feminine charm.

“And your coldness always belied your warmth, Cerridwen. Therein always lay the conundrum.”

“Touché. Evenly matched in words and wit, as I said.” A sad smile overtook her face as she walked closer to stand before him. “We may have fought, but the one thing you never lost was my respect.”

He nodded. “And I never lost respect for how dangerous you can be when crossed, Cerridwen. Forgive my hesitancy to simply allow bygones to be bygones. I have felt your wrath, and men died behind it. We did not fight as a couple; we went to war. So let us not play games tonight. State your cause or leave my castle.”

“Very well,” she said, lifting her chin. “I have traveled long to come here before nightfall, as have my guards. Surely hospitality is not so lacking that you would see us unsheltered against Vampires in the dead of night?”

“Rupert, please bring the lady refreshment and have her men placed in the dungeon under heavy guard—albeit with food and ale.”

“Thank you,” Queen Cerridwen replied in a tight voice, keeping her unblinking gaze on her ex-husband.

“Aye.” Sir Rodney waved his hand before her to motion for her to be seated at his round table. A chair drew itself away from the table, waiting for her to fill it, but she declined.

“There is no need for me to sit here and break bread with you, Rodney, as I am clearly not trusted. Should you cough from swallowing your food too quickly or somehow accidentally choke on a quail bone, your men would have my head thrust in the guillotine. Therefore, as long as my guards are fed, I am fine. But the information I have brought you is vital to our Fae way of life.”

She kept her eyes on her ex-husband’s back as he walked away from her with a cup of ale in one hand and the other clasped in a fist at his spine. Despite the years and all the raging water under the bridge between them, it was hard not to study his regal posture and broad shoulders or the way his dark brown hair spilled over them. That sight was almost as compelling as his deep blue eyes and his strong jawline.

“You make me sound like such a lout, Cerridwen.   and yet trust is hard to come by between us, for good cause.” He turned away from the window and stared at her.

“Yes, it is, Rodney,” she said in a gentle tone that lacked its usual bitter edge. “I thought we would live a long and passionate existence together—you ruling the summer and I ruling the winter—but after the first century you grew bored of me and the nymphs and human conquests were too much of a temptation. I do know about trust becoming a difficult commodity to own.”

“Back to that again,” he said, taking a slow sip of ale and sending his gaze toward the window once more.

“It never left that,” she said more coolly than intended.

“It never does.   but there were other things, too.”

“Yes. Like your weakness for the human condition and my disdain of it.”

He looked at her hard, ale held mid-air. “Have you not learned from what we have recently experienced that there are those of that species that have honor?” He paced to the round table and set down his ale, waving Rupert to set down the silver-domed tray of refreshments he’d brought in for the queen. “They are weak; they own no magic but rush in anyway to do that which is heroic. Some of my men would not be here were it not for the humans that Sasha Trudeau led into battle with us against Elder Vlad and the horror he conjured up from the demon depths.”

“Time improves vision and perspective,” Queen Cerridwen said carefully, and then released a weary sigh.

“Not understanding that, taking such an intractable line against the humans.   allowing your subjects to harm them with foul tricks for sheer amusement is what drove me from your bedchamber, Cerridwen—not my so-called wandering eye. I do not claim sainthood, but I was indeed yours without rival for a very long time.   until my opinion no longer mattered and I began to feel as though I, too, was one of your subjects.”

Both monarchs looked away and crossed the room in opposite directions, oblivious of the uncomfortable guards who stood stone still during the emotional exchange.

“Milord,” Garth finally said, diplomatically trying to restore order. “There is a matter of state business that Queen Cerridwen has brought tonight.   and mayhap we should learn more about this potential Vampire threat?”

Queen Cerridwen lifted her chin as she faced Sir Rodney’s top advisor. “Word has traveled to my castle doors like wildfire that someone has opened Vampire graves to daylight invasion and has made it appear to be me, using permafrost as a signature. I was left a list of names of the sun torched and given twenty-four hours to answer for my actions. The last grave that was opened was that of Monroe Bonaventure, Elder Vlad’s sixth viceroy.”

“Your calculated coldness is legendary, Queen,” Garth said evenly, his sarcasm biting as he thrust his shoulders back. “Permafrost befits your methods. We well remember the dead roses in the outer gardens, not to mention the dead guards. If you have gotten yourself into a dilemma with your previous cohorts in crime, you may well be in too deep for our assistance. You were in bed with the Vampires at one point. We, the Seelie, also have long memories and we fail to see what this has to do with us?”

She spun on Sir Rodney, tears of anger and frustration glittering in her pretty eyes. “All of that nasty business of temporarily siding with the Vampires was a matter of court record, and you learned that in the swamps of this godforsaken land! I was duped by Elder Vlad, coerced into an arrangement with him against you, thinking you had attacked one of my vassals in retribution for what happened with a rogue member of my court. But once I learned of his duplicity, I promised him that the Fae had very long memories and there would indeed be a cold day in Hell for him to pay for ever making me raise arms against you. However, someone beat me to that promise and has now forced my hand, and, therefore, I suspect, his.”

“Aye.   the Fae do have long memories,” Sir Rodney said quietly.

“Can’t you forget the past and understand that we, the Unseelie, are soon to be under attack in the northern country? How long before the Vampires attack the Seelie as well?”

“I cannot forget the past, Cerridwen, any more than you can.”

Her ex-husband’s voice was quiet and sad, like a low rumble of rolling thunder that she felt in her belly. Just the sound of it and the tone of it made her clasp her arms about herself.

“No, I guess we cannot ever forget the past, can we?” she said, swallowing hard. “I should not have come here seeking an ally. My apologies for imposing. Upon first light, my guards and I will be gone.”

“Leave us,” Sir Rodney said, turning away from Cerridwen to stare at his guards.

“What?. ,” she murmured, horrified. “Now? At night with Vampire patrols in the hundreds with a bounty on my head? Do you hate me that much, Rodney, that you would—”

“Not you, Cerridwen..   Garth, Rupert, clear the room so that I may speak to my queen privately. Thank you.”

“Milord?” Garth said, glancing at Rupert and the others in sheer disbelief.

“What about my request was unclear?” Sir Rodney said, growing agitated. His gaze remained steady on his men until Garth conceded.

“As you wish, milord,” Garth said in a tight tone of voice, and then bowed and withdrew from the great room, taking the rest of the men with him.

Stunned silent, she watched Rodney’s men leave, now better understanding the part of the past that Rodney was referring to and clearly couldn’t forget. For a moment, she hadn’t been sure he’d remembered what they’d once shared; it had been so long ago and his initial reception of her was so distant. He’d seemed so angry when she first arrived, his voice and remarks still lingering with old hurts from wounds that had cut bone deep. It was the same part of their past that she could never fully divest herself of, either; the hurt and the passion was all intertwined, and something that neither his old advisors nor hers would ever fully comprehend.

“Have you eaten?” Sir Rodney asked quietly as the large double doors closed, then went to the table to pour her a goblet of wine.

“Not since yesterday,” Queen Cerridwen said in a soft tone as he brought her the chalice. She accepted it from him, allowing her fingers to gently graze his. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.   but that is not good. We must rectify your nutrition before you waste away. My kitchen staff is at your disposal, if what Rupert has brought isn’t satisfactory.”

Only a few inches from him, she looked up and took a slow sip of wine. “You’re right. It isn’t good and I’m sure that what has been brought will suffice. But this inexplicable thing between us has always been the best sustenance for me, Rodney..   It’s the one thing that could always revive me.   and it was always good.”

He nodded and touched her cheek gently with the back of his knuckles. “We may war, but I would never allow Vampires to brutalize you or your Sidhe, Cerridwen. Never.”

She closed her eyes and turned into the warmth of his caress. “I swear to you this is no game or ploy. I have not done that which they hold me liable for. I would not involve you in my mischief, were it thus.”

“I believe that,” he said quietly, allowing his hands to slowly cover her soft, creamy shoulders. “Maybe because I want to believe it as much as I need to believe it.”

She closed the gap between them, letting the chalice dissolve away with a sparkle of magick. “Can we forget the past and start anew just for tonight.   on this beautiful autumn eve—this halfway mark between the end of summer and the beginning of the winter? Shall we meet in the middle and join as one?”

Tracing the edge of her delicate jaw with trembling fingers, he lowered his mouth to hers. “What past, Cerridwen?” he murmured, gently tasting her lips. “When we’ve just truly met for the very first time tonight.”

New Hampshire’s woodlands were in full fall color, their breathtaking splendor made even more glorious by the light of the brilliant moon. Hunter turned quickly and protectively pressed his naked body against Sasha’s as a sparkling multihued Fae missive parted the fall foliage, whizzing through the branches like a heat-seeking missile. It terminated with a loud thunk into a birch tree, narrowly missing them, its silver tip deeply embedded in the ghostly wood under the full moon.

Slowly peeling his skin away from Sasha’s, Hunter reached out and yanked the arrow out of the tree trunk with annoyance.

“Two inches closer and we would have spent the night trying to recover, instead of enjoying the moon or each other,” he said with a growl.

“Something’s gotta be wrong, baby,” she murmured, touching his clasped fist as she gazed up into his amber wolf eyes. “Usually their missives just find us and hover. This one was sent with a lot of extra topspin on it.”

“It had better be a matter of life and death.”

Hunter’s voice filled the glen in a low rumble as he flung the arrow away from them, clearly still peeved that Sir Rodney had sent a missive that interrupted a full-moon wolf run. But she tried not to smile as she gently caressed the five o’clock shadow that graced Hunter’s jaw, tracing the lush contours of his lips while waiting for the kaleidoscope-like missive to open and unfurl the message it contained.

Leaning into his warmth, she could understand his frustration. His massive six-foot-five frame was still burning up from a near shape-shift, and the chase erection he owned was still angrily bobbing up and down with every deep inhalation and exhalation he took. Waiting to be with him required every ounce of discipline she had. Her body was also on fire from the promise of the pleasure his would surely bring as he possessively held her and nuzzled the crown of her head against his cheek.

Her breasts ached with anticipation as she remained pressed against him. Damn, Sir Rodney has lousy timing. Her hand traveled down Hunter’s stone-cut chest to trail over his amber and silver clan medallion, loving the feel of his dark skin beneath her fingertips. She wore the mate to it, and she could feel his body heat almost soaking into the metal and exquisitely etched talisman. For a moment she was driven to near distraction, almost forgetting that there was even a Fae missive hovering mid-air in front of them until it suddenly opened. She’d have to gently remind Sir Rodney one day not to send urgent requests during the full moon; it was just not good form when dealing with Shadow Wolves, or even Werewolves for that matter.

Quickly sensing Hunter and Sasha for authentication, the missive released silver glowing letters into the air before them—a standard protective measure to keep its contents safe from demon or Vampire interception.

There may be foul play at the Sidhe—stop. Queen Cerridwen of Hecate has arrived with news of Vampire graves being daylight invaded—stop. The queen claims no Unseelie involvement, despite her permafrost signature being found at the destruction sites—stop. The last invasion murdered Monroe Bonaventure, Sixth Viceroy of Vlad. Sir Rodney could be compromised by his own emotions and must not know that I have asked you to return to New Orleans to both investigate and support him, should he be lured to ally with the Unseelie—stop. I may have said too much—stop. But this is a matter of Seelie Fae national security—stop. She is with him tonight—stop. Do you understand—stop. In the morning, when cooler heads prevail, he will need to speak to those he respects who can reason with him—stop. This is not our war—stop.

Respectfully requested,

Garth

“Whoa. ,” Sasha murmured as the message disappeared and the arrow flamed. “Garth sent a missive behind Sir Rodney’s back—about his ex-wife the ice queen.   who is at the Sidhe as we speak—on the run from Vampires?” Sasha dragged her fingers through her hair and looked out into the distance, thinking for a moment. “What the hell happened in the coupla months we were gone on vacation?”

Hunter just stared at her for a moment, taking in how her gorgeous gray eyes reflected the moonlight and the way her dark, tousled tresses hung about her shoulders. His gaze swept her full, kiss-punished mouth and he unconsciously wet his lips with the tip of his tongue as his eyes slowly followed the length of her throat, over her fragile collarbone, to linger at her pendulous breasts. His palms ached with the need to touch her there, to feel her lithe torso beneath his and to feel the gentle swell of her hips in his hands.   or the tight lobes of her delicious ass and the way her long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist to anchor him in deep.

“Hunter—what are we going to do?”

“Huh?”

“Did you read the missive? Do you see what’s going on?” She shook her head and paced away from him to get her bearings. “You have to do better than ‘huh?’ Come on.”

He smiled and rubbed his jaw, then flung his long ponytail over his shoulder with a shrug. “Brain blood loss. It is a gender condition. Repeat the question.”

“Are you serious?” Sasha opened her mouth for a moment and then closed it, and suddenly began to laugh. “Oh, my God. We have potential World War Three about to happen and—”

“How long have you known me?” he asked with a sheepish grin.

“Long enough to know that you were serious when you said, ‘Repeat the question,’ ” she said, smiling.

“I read and comprehended that Garth said we should speak to Rodney in the morning, when cooler heads prevail. Yes?”

“True, but.  ”

“Worrying all night serves no purpose and we are too far away to save him from the queen in his bedchamber, if she is there to poison him or to do him harm. Yes?”

“Yeah.   but—”

“And I am in no condition for war.”

Sasha’s smile broadened. “True.”

“Then, may I make one request?” he murmured, slowly stalking her.

“Maybe. ,” she said, beginning to laugh. “Depends on what it is.”

He smiled, now showing wolf canines. “It’s very simple, I promise you.”

She tilted her head and sidestepped his quick lunge, taunting him. “What?”

His smile faded and his voice deepened to a sexy rumble. “Run.”