Training sucked.

Especially when the main aim of that training was to make me something I'd once vowed never to become - a guardian for the Directorate of Other Races.

Becoming a guardian might have been inevitable, and I might have accepted it on some levels, but that didn't mean I had to be happy about the whole process.

Guardians were far more than just the specialized cops most humans thought them to be - they were judge, jury, and executioners. None of this legal crap the human cops were forced to put up with. Of course, the people in front of a guardian's metaphoric bullet were generally out-of-control psychos who totally deserved to die, but stalking the night with the aim of ending their undead lives still wasn't something that had reached my "to-do" list.

Even if my wolf soul sometimes hungered to hunt more than I might wish to acknowledge.

But if there was one thing worse than going through all the training that was involved in becoming a guardian, then it was training with my brother. I couldn't con him. Couldn't flirt or flash a bit of flesh to make him forget his train of thought. Couldn't moan that I'd had enough and that I couldn't go on, because he wasn't just my brother, but my twin.

He knew exactly what I could and couldn't do, because he could feel it. We mightn't share the telepathy of twins, but we knew when the other was hurting or in trouble.

And right now, Rhoan was fully aware of the fact that I was trying to pike. And he knew why.

I had a hot date with an even hotter werewolf.

In precisely one hour.

If I left now, I could get home and clean up before Kellen - the hot date in question - came by to pick me up. Any later, and he'd see me as the beaten-up scruff I usually was these days.

"Isn't Liander cooking you a roast this evening?" I said, casually waving the wooden baton I'd been given but had yet to use. Mainly because I didn't want to hit my brother.

He, however, didn't have the same problem, and the bruises littering my body proved it.

But then, he didn't really want me to be doing this. Didn't want me on the mission drawing inexorably closer.

"Yes." He continued to circle me, his pace as casual as his expression. I wasn't fooled. Couldn't be, when I could feel the tension in his body almost as well as I could feel it in mine. "But he has no intention of putting it on until I phone and tell him I'm on my way to his place."

"It's his birthday. You should be there to celebrate it with him rather than putting me through the wringer."

He shifted suddenly, stepping forward, the baton a pale blur as he lashed out at me. I ignored the step and the blow, holding still as the breeze of the baton's passing caressed the fingers of my left hand. He was only playing, and we both knew it.

I wouldn't even see his real move.

He grinned. "I'll be there as soon as this is over. And he did invite you along, remember."

"And spoil the private party you have planned?" My voice was dry. "I don't think so. Besides, I'd rather party with Kellen."

"Meaning Quinn is still out of the picture?"

"Not entirely." I shifted a little, keeping him in sight as he continued to circle. The padded green mats that covered the Directorate's sublevel training arena squeaked in protest under my bare feet.

"Your sweat is causing that," he commented. "But there's not nearly enough of it."

"Jesus, Rhoan, have a heart. I haven't seen Kellen for nearly a week. I want to play with him, not you."

He raised an eyebrow, a devilish glint in his silver eyes. "You get me on the mat, and I'll let you go."

"It's not you I want on the mat!"

"If you don't fight me, they'll make you fight Gautier. And I don't think either of us wants that."

"And if I do fight you, and do manage to bring you down, they're going to make me fight him, anyway."

Which pretty much sucked. I wasn't overly fond of vampires at the best of times, but some of them - like Quinn, who was in Sydney tending to his airline business, and Jack, my boss, and the man in charge of the whole guardian division - were decent people. Gautier was just a murdering freak. He might be a guardian, and he might not have done anything wrong just yet, but he was one of the bad guys. He was also a clone made for one specific purpose - to take over the Directorate. He hadn't made his move yet, but I had an odd premonition that he would, and soon.

Rhoan made another feint. This time the baton skimmed my knuckles, stinging but not breaking skin. I resisted the urge to shake the pain away and shifted my stance a little, readying for the real attack.

"So, what's happening between you and Quinn?"

Nothing had happened, and that was the whole problem. After making such a song and dance about me upholding my end of the deal we'd made, he'd basically played absent lover for the last few months. I blew out a frustrated breath, lifting the sweaty strands of hair from my forehead. "Can't we have this discussion after I play with Kellen?"

"No," he said, and blurred so fast that he literally disappeared from normal sight. And while I could have tracked his heat signature with the infrared of my vampire vision, I didn't actually need to, because my hearing and nose were wolf-sharp. Not only could I hear his light steps on the vinyl mats as he circled around me, but I could track the breeze of his spicy, leathery scent.

Both were now approaching from behind.

I dove out of the way, twisting around even as I hit the mat, and lashed out with a foot. The blow connected hard and low against the back of his leg, and he grunted, his form reappearing as he stumbled and fought to remain standing.

I scrambled upright, and lunged toward him. I wasn't fast enough by half. He scooted well out of reach and shook his head. "You're not taking this seriously, Riley."

"Yes, I am." Just not as seriously as he'd like me to. Not this evening, anyway.

"Are you that desperate to fight Gautier?"

"No, but I am that desperate to see Kellen." Sexual frustration wasn't a good thing for anyone, but it was particularly bad for a werewolf. Sex was an ingrained part of our culture - we needed it as much as a vampire needed blood. And this goddamn training had been taking up so much of my free time that I hadn't even been able to get down to the Blue Moon for some action.

I blew out another breath, and tried to think calm thoughts. As much as I didn't want to hurt my brother, if that was the only way out of here, then I might have to try.

But if I did succeed in beating him, then Jack might take that as a sign I was ready for the big one. And part of me feared that - feared that no matter what Jack said, my brother was right when he said that I shouldn't be doing this. That I was never going to be ready for it, no matter how much training I got.

That I'd screw it all up, and put everyone's life in danger.

Not that Rhoan had actually said that last one. But as the time to infiltrate Deshon Starr's crime cartel drew nearer, it was in my thoughts more and more.

"It's a stupid rule, and you know it," I said eventually. "Fighting Gautier doesn't prove anything."

"He is the best at what he does. Fighting him makes guardians ready for what they may face out there."

"Difference is, I don't want to become a full-time guardian."

"You have no choice now, Riley."

I knew that, but that didn't mean I still couldn't rail against the prospect, even if my protests were only empty words. Hell, if Jack came up to me today and offered me the chance to walk away from becoming a guardian, I wouldn't, because there was no way in hell I'd walk away from the chance of making Deshon Starr pay. Not only because of what he'd done to me, but what he'd done to Misha, and to Kade's partner, and all those countless men and women still locked in breeding cells somewhere.

Not to mention all the things given life in his labs - abominations nature would never have created, creatures born for two purposes only. To kill as ordered, and to die as ordered.

A chill ran across my skin. I'd only come across a few of those creatures, but I had a bad, bad feeling that before this month was out, I'd see a whole lot more than I ever wanted to.

I licked my lips, and tried to concentrate on Rhoan. If I had to get him down on the mat to get out of here, then I would. I wanted, needed, to grab a little bit more of a normal life before the crap set in again.

Because it was coming. I could feel it.

A shadow flickered across one of the windows lining the wall to the right of Rhoan. Given it was nearly six, it was probably just a guardian getting himself ready for the evening's hunt. This arena was on sublevel 5, right next to the guardian sleeping quarters. Which, amusingly, did contain coffins. Some vamps just loved living up to human expectations, even if they weren't actually necessary.

Not that any humans ever came down here. That would be like leading a lamb into the midst of a hungry den of lions. To say it would get ugly very quickly would be an understatement. Guardians might be paid to protect humans, but they sure as hell weren't above snacking on the occasional one, either.

The shadow slipped past another window, and this time, Rhoan's gaze flickered in that direction. Only briefly, but that half-second gave me an idea.

I twisted, spinning and lashing out with one bare foot. My heel skimmed his stomach, forcing him backward. His baton arced around, his blow barely avoiding my shin, then he followed the impetus of the movement so that he was spinning and kicking in one smooth motion. His heel whistled mere inches from my nose, and probably would have connected if I hadn't leaned back.

He nodded approvingly. "Now, that's a little more like it."

I grunted, shifting my stance and throwing the baton from one hand to the other. The slap of wood against flesh echoed in the silence surrounding us, and tension ran across his shoulders. I held his gaze, then caught the baton left-handed and started to hit out. Only to pull the blow up short and let my gaze go beyond him.

"Hi, Jack."

Rhoan turned around, and, in that moment, I dropped and kicked his legs out from underneath him. He hit the mat with a loud splat, his surprised expression dissolving quickly into a bark of laughter.

"The oldest trick in the book, and I fell for it."

I grinned. "Old tricks sometimes have their uses."

"And I guess this means you're free to go." He held up a hand. "Help me up."

"I'm not that stupid, brother."

Amusement twinkled in his silvery eyes as he climbed to his feet. "Worth a try, I guess."

"So I can go?"

"That was the deal." He rose and walked across to the side of the arena to grab the towel he'd draped over the railing earlier. "But you're back here tomorrow morning at six sharp."

I groaned. "That's just plain mean."

He ran the towel across his spiky red hair, and even though I couldn't see his expression, I knew he was grinning. Sometimes my brother could be a real pain in the ass.

"Maybe next time you'll reconsider the option of cheating."

"It's not cheating if it works."

Though his smile still lingered, little of that amusement reached his eyes. He was worried, truly worried, about my part in the mission we'd soon embark on. He didn't want me to do this any more than I'd wanted him to become a guardian. But as he'd said to me all those years ago, some directions in life just had to be accepted.

"You're here to learn defense and offense," he said. "Inane tricks won't save your life."

"If they only save it once, then they're worth trying."

He shook his head. "I can see I'm not going to talk any sense into you until after the sexfest."

"Glad you finally caught the gist of my whole conversation for the last hour." I grinned. "And hey, look on the bright side: Liander's going to be mighty pleased to see you at a normal hour for a change."

He grunted. "Well, if he wasn't so damn clingy, he might see me early more often."

I raised my eyebrows at the annoyance in his tone. "He gives you free rein to be with who you want. I hardly call that clingy."

"I know, but - " He stopped and shrugged. "I don't know if I can give him what he wants. I don't know if I'll ever be able to."

Which was almost exactly what I'd said to Quinn two months ago. It was amazing how our love lives seemed to be following similar lines - although my reasons for saying those words to Quinn were entirely different than my brother's statement. Rhoan actually loved Liander. I couldn't say the same about Quinn. Hell, we barely even knew each other beyond the realms of sex.

And at least Liander had stuck with Rhoan, through good times and bad. Quinn had done a runner yet again, despite his declared intention of not letting me go until we'd fully explored this thing between us.

How he intended to do that from Sydney was anyone's guess. Maybe he'd simply decided I was just too much trouble and it was better to walk away. Though given we were sharing some mighty erotic dreams, I doubted walking away was a real option for either of us right now.

I touched a hand to my brother's arm, and squeezed lightly. "Liander loves you. And he'll wait for you."

Rhoan's gaze met mine. "I'm not sure I'm worth such devotion."

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm that devoted."

He flicked my cheek lightly. "Yeah, but you're my twin and my pack-mate. You have to be."

"True." I studied him for a moment, then said softly, "Just because our pack didn't love us doesn't mean we're unworthy of love."

How many times had he said that to me over the years? And yet now, when the crunch came for him, he wasn't truly ready to believe it himself.

His smile was sweet, but sort of sad. "The difference between you and me is the fact I don't want to settle down. At all. I want to be free to be with whomever I choose, whenever I chose."

"Whomever?" I interrupted, with more than a little annoyance in my voice. "Don't tell me you're still seeing Davern?"

Rhoan had the good grace to look uncomfortable. "Only when he's in town, and that's not often these days."

"But didn't you tell Liander you two were no longer an item?"

"Well, we aren't. We're more occasional lovers."

"A nitpicky difference Liander will not appreciate."

He shrugged. "Look, maybe my inability to commit is just a part of what I am."

I knew he was referring to his sexuality more than his being a guardian or a half-breed. And that angered me.

"Liander's just like you, and he wants to settle down. Don't start making excuses just because you're scared."

He raised his eyebrows, yet there was a keenness in his silvery eyes that suggested I was right on the mark. "Scared?"

"Yeah. Settling down means making a commitment. And you don't want to commit to anyone because of what you do, not because of what you are. Admit that to yourself - and him - if nothing else."

"He deserves more than just a part-time partner."

"Maybe he does," I agreed, eliciting a startled response from Rhoan. "But neither you or I have the right to decide that for him. It's his choice, his life."

He chuckled softly, then leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "You're pretty clever for a girl. And I hope you take note of that advice in your own life."

"Me? Take advice? It'll snow at Christmas before that ever happens." And given December was the first of the summer months here in Melbourne, something pretty disastrous would have to happen to the climate for that to occur. Though given the weird turns my life had been taking recently, snowing at Christmastime wasn't altogether beyond the realms of possibility.

Nor was me actually taking some of my own advice.

I gave him the baton, then shoved him gently toward the exit. "Go see him, and make sure you talk to him."

"You don't want me to walk you up to the change rooms?"

"Nah, I'll be right." The arena was fully monitored by security whenever anyone was down here training, but I had no doubt Jack would also be around somewhere. He had a vested interest in keeping me safe and whole. Not only because he wanted me on this mission, but because he wanted me as a full-fledged guardian. "I'll see you here tomorrow morning."

He nodded, tossed the towel around his bare shoulders, and headed off whistling. Obviously, I wasn't the only one anticipating a good time tonight.

Grinning slightly, I headed down the other end of the arena where my towel and water bottle waited. I grabbed the towel and wrapped one end around my ponytail, squeezing the sweat from my hair before wiping the back of my neck and face. I might not have been fighting to full capacity tonight, but we'd still been training for a couple of hours and not only did my skin glimmer with heat, but my navy T-shirt was almost black with sweat. It was just as well I could shower here - with the way my luck had been running of late, Kellen would be waiting for me by the time I got home. And as much as most wolves preferred natural scent over synthetic, right now I was just a little too overwhelmingly natural.

I reached out to collect the water bottle, then froze as awareness surged, prickling like fire across my skin. Rhoan had left, but I was no longer alone in the arena.

My earlier intuition had been right - crap had been about to step back into my life.

And it came in the form or Gautier.

Towel still in hand, I casually turned around. He stood at the window end of the arena, a long, mean stick of man and muscle who smelled as bad as he looked.

"Still haven't managed to catch that shower, I see." It probably wasn't the wisest comment I'd ever made, but when it came to Gautier, I couldn't seem to keep my mouth shut.

It was a trait that was going to get me in trouble - if not tonight, then sometime in the future.

He crossed his arms and smiled. There was nothing nice in that smile. Nothing sane in his flat brown eyes. "Still jumping mouth first into situations even the insane would think twice about, I see."

"It's a failing of mine." I idly began twirling the towel and wondered how long it would take security to react. And if Jack would let them react.

"So I've noticed."

He'd be hard-pressed not to when most of my mouth-first offenses of late involved him in some way. "What are you doing here, Gautier? Haven't you got bad guys to kill?"

"I have."

"Then why aren't you outside hunting, like the good little psycho you are?"

His sharklike smile sent a chill running up my spine, and in that moment I realized he was on the hunt.

For me.

Fuck.

Which didn't really fully encompass the shitload of trouble I'd landed in, but right then, it was the only word I could think of. And it was running over and over and over in my mind.

Along with the thought that I'd been set up. That this was what Jack had intended all the time when he'd arranged this training session.

Rhoan wouldn't have known. He would never have agreed to this. Never.

"So, you're here to put me through my paces, huh?"

His amusement rippled around me, as slimy as pond scum. "You catch on quick."

Not quick enough, apparently. I should have known Jack was up to something. He'd been too jovial all day - a sure sign the shit was about to hit the fan where I was concerned.

But why would he put me up against Gautier so soon? Hell, I'd only been training a couple of months. Most would-be guardians had at least a year before they had the pleasure of Gautier pulping them.

Maybe something had happened. Something that had forced a revamp of the timetable.

Despite the situation, excitement trembled through me. I wanted this ended. Wanted to get back to a normal life - though given six months had now passed since I'd first been injected with the experimental fertility drug, normalcy might be a thing of the past. If that drug was changing the very essence of what I was - as it had other half-breeds - then those changes would soon start appearing.

Gautier began to stroll leisurely in my direction. I continued to twirl the towel, and watched him through slightly narrowed eyes. I was never going to beat him, and we both knew it, but I sure as hell was going to go down fighting.

He stopped halfway down the arena. "You ready?"

I raised an eyebrow, feigning a confidence I didn't feel. Which was pretty pointless, because he was a vampire, and would know how accelerated my heart rate was. Would know it was fear, rather than excitement.

But fear and I were old companions. It hadn't stopped me before, and it wouldn't stop me now.

"Do you give all your targets a warning?"

"Yes."

The complete and utter stillness about him reminded me of a snake about to strike. And it made me afraid, as no real snake ever had.

"And why would you do that?"

"Because tasting my prey's fear as I hunt them down is almost as heady as tasting blood." He paused to breath deep. Rapture touched his flat eyes, and the chills running down my spine became a landslide. "I can taste your fear, Riley, and it is exquisite."

"You're sick. You know that, don't you?"

"But I'm very, very good at what I do."

The promise of death was in his eyes. And I knew that he and I would fight it out, for real and to the bitter end, sometime soon. Not here, not at the Directorate, but somewhere on his turf, on his terms.

Goose bumps ran across my skin, but I resisted the urge to rub my arms. Clairvoyance might be a latent skill coming to life, but it sure as hell was one I could do without.

Especially when it told me shit like that.

Gautier's fingers flexed, just the once, then he was gone from sight. His steps were featherlight on the matting, little more than whispers of air. I wished I could say the same about his scent. It was thick with the reek of death, so vile that it snatched my breath and made it hard to concentrate.

And if I didn't concentrate, this could go very, very badly.

Not that it wasn't going to, anyway.

I blinked, switching to the infrared of my vampire sight, and watched the heat of him draw closer. And closer. At the last possible moment, I flicked the towel forward, snapping the end across his stone-cold features, then I ran like hell out of his way.

He didn't give chase, simply stopped and raised a hand to his face. Though I'd been aiming for his eyes, the towel had actually snapped across his cheek, and hard enough to draw blood. It probably wasn't the wisest thing I'd ever done, but damned if the sight of his blood didn't cheer me up a little. I might get beaten senseless, but at least I'd managed to do the one thing no guardian had ever been able to do - draw blood from the great Gautier.

But then, few guardians would be insane enough to face Gautier armed with just a towel.

He ran a finger across the wound. Even from where I stood, I could see the blood sitting on his fingertip. His gaze met mine, and again I saw death.

For all of two seconds, I thought about running. Just getting the hell out of this arena and away from this psychopath. But if I did that, I'd be off the mission. And right now, I wanted that revenge more than I feared Gautier.

Gautier sucked the blood from his fingertip, then said, in a voice that was flat and yet oh so lethal, "For that, you will pay."

"Oh, I'm so scared." Which was nothing more than the truth. Anyone possessing the merest grain of sanity would not want to exchange places with me right now. Except maybe my brother.

I frowned at the thought. Rhoan would know what was happening - at the very least, he'd feel my fear. So why wasn't he here, watching if not intervening?

Gautier gave me the sort of smile a cat might give an amusing mouse just before he ate it, then disappeared from sight again. I tracked him with infrared, waiting until he closed in, then threw the towel at his face even as I dropped and spun and lashed out with one foot, trying to bring him down. He avoided the towel and the kick, then his fist was arcing toward me. I dodged, felt the breeze of it scrape past my cheek, then dove forward, tackling him at knee height and bringing him down. As we both hit the matting, I landed a punch, kidney-high, before rolling to my feet and getting away. Close-in fighting with Gautier was something I was never going to win. I had to hit and run, hit and run, for as long as I could.

The bastard didn't even have the courtesy to grunt at the force of my blow. He climbed to his feet, his movements leisurely, calm. But there was murder in his eyes.

I wiped the sweat from my eyes, then flexed my fingers, trying to remain relaxed. He wouldn't kill me, not here. I had to believe that, if nothing else.

"Very good," Gautier said, his slimy, too-confident tones sending more chills up my spine. "There are very few who have managed what you just did."

I wondered if those few were still alive to speak about the experience. Knowing Gautier, probably not.

"I shall have to try a little harder, it seems," he added.

Oh, fuck.

The thought had barely entered my head when he was coming at me, a whirlwind of power and speed and sheer, bloody force. I weaved and dodged and blocked as best I could, throwing punches and kicks. But I was never going to beat him, and we were both too aware of that point. He might not be faster, but he was stronger and far more experienced.

Eventually, several blows got through my defense, leaving me winded, battered, more than a little bruised but somehow still upright. I kept blocking, kept fighting, then another blow came through, crashing against my chin, snapping my head back and sending me flying. Stars danced in front of my eyes, and the black peace of unconsciousness flirted with me. I shook my head, denying the call, and twisted in the air so that I landed catlike and on all fours. Saw, in a brief flash of awareness, my brother, his knuckles white with the force of his grip on the railing. Saw the four security guards holding him back. Saw Jack watching it all.

Then the air was screaming with the scent and force of Gautier's follow-up leap. If he pinned me, that would be the end of it. I rolled away and slashed sideways with my heel. The blow connected low down, against his ankle, and flesh and bone gave way under the power of it. He grunted, fury flashing across his dead features, then he spun and grabbed my leg even as I tried to scramble away.

A scream ran up my throat as he pulled me toward him, but I managed to push it down enough that it came out only as a slight gasp of fear. I twisted around, ignored the slivers of pain that ran up my leg, and kicked out with my free foot.

He laughed. Laughed.

Never a wise move when it came to dealing with werewolves - even if the odds are on your side. You might as well wave a red rag at a raging bull.

The anger that swept through me momentarily bolstered my reserves of strength. I called to the wolf within, and the power of the change swept around me, through me, tingling through vein and muscle and bone, blurring my vision, blurring the pain, the fury. Limbs shortened, shifted, rearranged, until what was lying on the mat was wolf not human. It wasn't a move Gautier had expected, and just for an instant, he didn't actually react. I ripped my leg free of his grip, then leapt to my feet, launching at him rather than away. Teeth slashed, tearing through the flesh of his arm as easily as scissors through paper.

His blood spurted into my mouth, a foulness worse than even his scent. I coughed, spat out his taste, his flesh. Then his fist was in my side, burrowing deep. Something snapped within, and everything went red as the force of the blow battered me away from him. I shifted shape as I flew through the air, and hit the mat hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. Or maybe there wasn't any to begin with, because my lungs burned and I couldn't seem to get enough air no matter how much I gasped. All I could feel was pain and fear.

All I could hear was the wind of Gautier's approach.

"Stop." Jack's command barked across the arena.

Gautier didn't seem to hear. Or maybe he didn't want to hear, because suddenly he was beside me, his fist filling my vision as it hurtled toward my face. I curled into a ball, protecting myself the best I could, knowing it was never going to be enough.

"I said, stop!"

The blow never landed. After a few seconds, I opened an eye and saw Gautier still above me, his fist still clenched and so very close to my face. His arm quivered, as if he were fighting some restraining force, and not only was there sweat on his forehead, but fear in his eyes.

Jack had stopped the blow. Was holding him still now. Not physically, but through psychic means. Here, in this arena, in a building filled the psychic deadeners.

Which meant Jack was a whole lot more powerful, and a whole lot more deadly, than I'd ever presumed.

"Retreat, Gautier. Go to the mcd center and have those wounds looked at."

"This is not finished," Gautier hissed as he stepped away. "But we will finish it, believe me."

I didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. Just watched him hobble away as I kept on trying to get some air into my lungs.

The scent of spice and leather spun around me, then Rhoan was beside me, touching my face, my neck, his expression stricken.

"I'm okay. Really," I managed.

It came out hoarse, and didn't seem to convince my brother. "I'm going to kill - "

I touched a finger to his lips. "No." The bastard was mine, even if I had to do it from the shadows with a long-range rifle.

He caught my hand, and held it against his heart. Its beat was rapid, fear filled. Just like mine. "He had no right - "

"I'm betting he had every right. I'm betting our dear boss had this planned all along. Help me up."

He did. Pain slithered through my torso, red pokers of agony that seemed to pierce far too many muscles. I hissed, and held on to my brother as the room spun briefly.

"You weren't ready - "

"Is anyone ever ready to fight Gautier?" Pain slithered across my jaw as I spoke. I winced and raised a hand to feel for damage. The whole left side of my face was swollen, and tender enough that even the lightest of touches hurt. I might be a wolf and heal extraordinarily fast, but there wasn't much I could do about bruises. I was going to be black and blue by the time I got home. So much for my fancy night out with Kellen.

Footsteps echoed in the brief silence, and I didn't need to smell his musky scent to know it was Jack approaching. Nor did Rhoan. Tension slithered through his body, and the anger I could almost taste sharpened abruptly. Before I could even open my mouth to warn Jack, Rhoan had turned and punched.

Jack caught the blow in his hand. Caught it and held it. Easily. As if all of Rhoan's strength and power was nothing more than that of a troublesome child.

"I have my reasons," he said, green eyes as intense as his soft voice. "Trust that I know what I'm doing."

Rhoan wrenched his fist free. "Gautier almost killed her!"

"I'm sure he would have loved to, but you're missing the point."

"The fact that you stopped him, despite all of the psychic deadeners in this place?" I rubbed at the ache in my side and wondered if I'd cracked a rib or something. It sure as hell felt like it. Changing shape might have healed any break, but it sure didn't stop the pain or the bruising. And it had totally wrecked my clothing. As I tied the end of my T-shirt together to stop my boobs from falling out, I added, "All that means is you've just warned Gautier how strong you truly are."

Amusement briefly touched the corners of his eyes. "Yes, but that's just a side benefit."

"Then what was the whole point?" Rhoan spat. "To beat her up when she wasn't even ready?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "How many fully trained guardians have lasted ten minutes with Gautier?"

"Not many, but that - "

"One," Jack interrupted. "You. And Riley managed what even you couldn't. She marked Gautier, made him bleed."

"Which only succeeded in pissing him off," I muttered. "From now on, I'm going to have to watch my back."

"Even he won't dare go after you for several nights, and by then it won't matter because you'll be gone." He hesitated, lowering his voice a little as he added, "The time frame for the mission has been stepped forward."

So, I was right. Something trembled through me, something that could have been excitement or fear, but more than likely was simply relief. No matter what direction my life was meant to go, it would be good to finally quit having to look over my shoulder all the time. I raised an eyebrow. "You've had a breakthrough?"

"Several."

"Riley isn't ready for this." Fury still filled Rhoan's soft tones, if not his expression.

"Will I ever be ready, at least in your opinion?" I touched a hand to his face and smiled. "We both know the answer would be no."

"You shouldn't be doing this."

"I have to do this. I may have been forced down this road, but I sure as hell intend to see it through now."

"But - "

"No," I cut in. "I won't change my mind, and I won't back down, no matter what I have to do or who I have to do. These bastards are going to pay for what they did to me."

His gaze searched mine, then he sighed and took my hand from his cheek, squeezing it lightly. "You really are a stubborn bitch."

"Much like my brother," I said dryly.

Rhoan smiled, but his gaze, when it shifted to Jack, was deadly. "If she gets hurt, or killed, I'm coming after you."

"As undoubtedly will she, if you get hurt or killed." Jack hesitated again, looking around. The only other people in the arena were the four guards down near the exit, but Jack wasn't into trusting anyone lately. Especially when we had no idea who else Gautier might be working with in the Directorate. "Report to Genoveve tomorrow at nine."

Genoveve was the lab that had been a major source of clones for several years - though it wasn't the lab that Gautier had come from. It had been purchased by Talon - one of Gautier's clone brothers, and a former mate of mine - some years ago so he could continue his cloning endeavors well away from the Government's prying eyes. We'd stopped that operation, as well as a crossbreeding operation, but we'd yet to find the main lab. That lab was still little more than a name - Libraska.

And the only person who apparently knew the location of that lab was Deshon Starr. Or rather, the shape-shifter who had taken over Starr's body and lite.

"I thought Genoveve was being sold off by the Government?"

"It is, but we're still using it in the meantime."

"Then we're back into the fray as of tomorrow?"

"Yes." Jack glanced at Rhoan. "I've already called Liander. He'll be coming in with his full kit."

Given Liander was one of the top movie effects people in the country, that could only mean we'd be donning our disguises - and moving into our cover lives - from tomorrow. "Which means I'd better make the most of my time tonight." Bruises or no bruises.

"You'd better," Jack warned. "Because from tomorrow, there's to be no contact with anyone you're currently involved with."

I raised my eyebrows. Even that hurt. My sexfest wasn't looking good at all.

"Meaning Quinn's not in on this?"

"No."

Great. It meant I'd probably get harassed even more at night when he realized something was happening he wasn't involved with.

Rhoan lightly squeezed my arm. "You want an escort up to the change rooms this time?"

I nodded. No sense in chancing fate a second time.

We headed up several floors to the change rooms, where I admired the blooming, rainbow-colored range of bruises scattering my body before stepping under the shower to wash away the sweat and blood and the foul smell of Gautier from my skin and hair and mouth.

Luckily, I'd brought some extra clothes to change into after training, because the T-shirt and sweatpants weren't in a fit condition to be worn out in public.

Rhoan dropped me off at home, and I noted with some relief that Kellen's white BMW wasn't in sight. Maybe I had time yet to get myself into some semblance of working order. I climbed the stairs, but after hours of training and then fighting Gautier, the six flights just about did me in. I opened the door with a trembling hand, and discovered fate hadn't finished throwing curveballs my way yet.

Kellen stood at my door.

So did Quinn.

And neither man looked particularly happy to see the other.

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