When it returned, he was in an empty cell, and being pulled, yanked back deeper into the rocks. He struggled against whoever held him, but the arm was firm and resolute and dragged him another ten feet down a wet, black corridor.

"Save the brawn for another time, Impure," the voice behind him hissed.

Oh, shit. Shit, he knew that voice. Goddamn, he knew that voice! He heard the motherfucking voice in his head every night-and every time his cock headed south into some random female.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded as a strip of light beamed past his head and hit his feet.

"Saving your sorry ass."

"Why?"

"Just keep your mouth shut and hang on."

A few more feet and light completely encompassed them. Then sky, and the scent of earth. With a grunt of supreme force, she hauled him up and out of what appeared to be a hole in the ground, then dropped him on the grass.

She was breathing heavy. So was Gray. He stared up at her, nostrils flaring, and wished he wasn't bare-ass naked. Not that she seemed to care. She wasn't staring at anything but his face.

"I have to go back," Gray said.

"You're welcome, moron."

"D, there are Impures down there."

"No shit. I just saved your bare ass from becoming one of them-truly one of them. Not to mention, saving your cock from forever limping at the side of your leg."

So she had noticed.

Gray stood, a flood of renewed determination filling him. Samuel and Uma and Jacobi, he wasn't leaving them down there to be castrated.

"I know what you're thinking," Dillon growled at him, her breath a living thing in the cool morning air. "But you can't save them. The ones you were with."

His chin dropped, his gaze narrowed. "You can. I'll help you."

Her jaw ticked and she slowly shook her head. "No."

"You refuse to help?"

"Damn right I do. I don't give a shit about any of them."

"Just me," he shot back.

She didn't answer. "Let's go."

"No."

She turned to leave and he reached for her arm. "I told you I'm not leaving them."

She whirled around and had his arm tucked behind his back before he took his next breath. "They're already castrated, motherfucker! It's done. Done!"

She never let him say a word in response. Her other hand wrapped around his cock and they were flashed from the stark morning light and the only known portal leading to both the Impures he would never forget and the truth they held deep within their beating hearts.

Chapter Three

A little midflight hand job sounded exactly like something Gray Donohue would be into-if the circumstances were different. But this wasn't the time, the place, or, he thought almost regrettably, the girl.

And clearly Dillon felt the same.

The moment they hit ground, she released her hold on his naked frame and ushered him across a great expanse of snow-covered lawn like an army drill sergeant.

"You gonna tell me where we are?" Gray said through gritted teeth, the unsympathetic midwinter cold attacking his bare skin.

"My digs," she answered, nodding toward a two-story guesthouse set front and center on a sprawling piece of property.

"And the McMansion behind it?" he asked.

"My boss's digs," she said, pushing him through the back door of the house and into a sunken living area.

"The Senator? We're in Maine?" No wonder it was so freaking cold.

"Wasn't going to take you back home, Impure." She stripped out of her coat. "Wherever that is."

"Surprised you didn't drop my ass at my sister's."

"Sure," she said with a laugh, tossing the coat on the back of the long, plush couch. " 'Cause the Order would never look for you there."

He ground his molars at her nonchalance, her sarcasm. He wanted to shoot back with something equally acerbic, but what would be the point? She was right. Shit, he hated that. Almost as much as he hated standing before her in nothing but a sneer. "Hey, point me toward the shower, D. I need to warm up. I'm fucking freezing."

Her gaze dropped and she snorted. "So I see."

"Shower," he repeated, this time grabbing his cock. "Unless you're going to warm me up. Again."

For a moment, it seemed as though she were contemplating it, or maybe she was just trying to make him nuts as she stared.

Gray felt his cock twitch and swell in his hand, and it wasn't in response to his touch.

Finally Dillon's eyes lifted and her mouth tilted up at the corners. "Up the stairs, Impure, third door on your left."

Gray released himself and walked away from her without another word. She liked games. She liked playing people, playing him-playing his sister. Well, he wasn't in the mood. Not today. Maybe not ever. The Paleo, and everything he'd witnessed there-everything he'd heard-still sat heavily inside his chest and made him feel unworthy to be here, in this house, his manhood intact. Dillon couldn't understand. She was cold and unfeeling with a heart that remained still and silent. And she was Pureblood. She was born and bred to look down her nose at him and everyone who shared his blood.

He felt her eyes on him as he headed up the stairs, but all he could think about was getting in that shower, under the hot water, the steam closeting him as he fought for answers, maybe a blip of inspiration, or a plan to get his father's best friend and his family out of that hole in the ground.