PARIS STARED AT THE PADDED white wall, his vision blurry, his mind foggy. He knew he'd been stripped and strapped to another table. He knew he hadn't had sex in days. But he didn't even have the strength to lift his head anymore. He'd been poked and prodded, and the Hunters had even sent in a blonde to arouse him so they could watch how the demon operated, but he hadn't been able to get hard for her.

This had happened only once before.

Long ago, immediately after his possession, he'd reached this point of desperation. He'd reached this point of weakness. Too feral for any mortal woman to approach, he'd been forced to accept the first person willing to fuck him.

He'd vowed never to let such a thing happen again.

He didn't want a male Hunter giving him strength. All he could think about was the brunette with the freckles. Sienna. He'd finally remembered her name and it was now branded into his every cell. If he couldn't have her, he just wanted to die. Somehow, some way, and for reasons he didn't understand - or perhaps didn't want to understand - she'd entranced the demon.

No other would do.

Why? Little Sienna had lied to him and betrayed him, drugged him and locked him up, but still he wanted to fuck her. Wanted her wet for him and only him. Wanted his name roaring past her lips and pleasure consuming her face.

Afterwards, he wanted the demon to enslave her, to make her so mad with lust for him that she would do anything he asked. Follow him wherever he went. Even beg him for another touch. He would deny her, of course, unable to take her again. And so she would suffer with her desires. He would laugh.

He might even fuck another woman in front of her.

Just the thought made him grin. Paris wanted her to suffer as he was suffering. He'd never wanted or hated a woman more, and both were only growing with every moment he spent inside this padded room.

All he had to do to make his dream a reality was convince the Hunters to send her to him. How, though? The answer seemed just out of his reach.

"What should we do with him now?" someone asked.

Paris closed his eyes, the lids so heavy he could no longer hold them up. There had been a parade of doctors in the room, but he was past the point of caring who came and went.

"At this rate, he'll be dead in a few days. Then he's no good to us, and the demon will escape him, terrorizing the world. That mistake was made once already. We can't allow it to happen again. No telling what catastrophes Promiscuity would cause. Rapes, the breakup of every marriage in the world, a rise in STDs and teen pregnancies."

"If nothing more, we have to keep him alive until we figure out how to contain that demon."

A pause. Then a sigh. "Sienna's the only one he's ever even spoken to and the only person he's remotely responded to."

Sienna's image flashed inside his mind. Mousy hair, plain features. Pale, freckled skin. A body so thin she barely had breasts. His cock twitched, though, showing the first sign of life in days. Delicate hands...soft lips...all over his body.

"Did you see that?" one of the men remarked. "Sienna."

His cock moved again.

"Go get her. Now."

"Are you sure? She's - "

"Get her."

Footsteps suddenly reverberated. There was the slide of a door.

Were they going to bring Sienna to him? Have her suck him off or welcome him into her body? Either way...He almost smiled. He hadn't had to say a thing. They were simply giving him what he'd wanted, gift-wrapped with a bow on top. Perhaps he'd used his gift of projection to touch their minds and just didn't know it. Perhaps his desire for her was that strong.

Would she actually do it or would she refuse?

No, she wouldn't refuse, he thought, excitement pushing past his fatigue. He wouldn't let her. Whatever he had to do, whatever he had to say, she would be his.

Afterward, he would escape - and he would take her with him. Until this, he'd never been one for revenge. He loved women. They were his life's blood. For Sienna, however, he was going to make an exception. He would...Darkness shrouded over his mind, cutting off his thoughts.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, warm fingertips were moving over his chest, bringing an electric tingle that jolted through him.

"Hello, Paris," he heard, and the words alone offered more pleasure, more strength, than he'd experienced in days.

How much time had passed, he didn't know. He only knew that when he pried his eyes open, Sienna was hovering over him, hazel eyes unsure. She'd taken off her glasses. The room was dimmed, not bright like it usually was, surrounding her in shadows.

But he could see that she was dressed exactly as she'd been before: baggy, bland clothing and hair pulled into a severe twist. She exuded a vulnerability he wanted to exploit as she jerked her hand away from him.

She wrung her fingers together in apparent nervousness.

"Come to pleasure me, did you?" he sneered before he could stop himself.

Her cheeks pinkened, and she looked away. "If you'd rather have someone else, I can leave."

"You'll do," he said, and breath hitched in her throat. He hoped his words hurt her. He hoped she hurt for a long, long time. "You realize this makes you their whore, right? Screwing a man for your friends, for a cause, for money even, since I'm sure you're on their payroll." Shut up! Don't push her away.

Her lips thinned as she eyed him again and whatever she saw on his face made her already fair skin pale. Once more, she lowered her gaze. This time, however, she began to back away. "I wouldn't have come if I wasn't attracted to you."

"A Hunter attracted to a Lord. How sad for you."

There was a heavy pause.

Just shut the hell up, man. Before you make her leave. You need her body, not her anger - not yet. "I'm sorry," he forced himself to say. "Sienna."

Shock parted her lips and she gasped, gaze flicking to him, staying. "You know my name."

"Of course. Like you, I'm attracted. Despite everything." Sadly, that was not a lie. Stupid demon.

She was shaking as she changed her direction and approached him. There was true desire in her hazel eyes, just as there had been the first time he'd seen her. Paris could feel his dick hardening, rising for her. Still a little vindictive, he tried to stop it. The situation was dangerous, but he wanted to make her work for it.

She reached his bed, stopped and licked her lips.

"Unchain me," he croaked out.

"I was told not to," she replied softly.

"Are they watching?"

She shook her head. "I asked them to turn off the cameras, and they agreed."

So naive she was, he found himself thinking again. He nearly rolled his eyes. No way would Hunters have willingly denied themselves the opportunity to observe the likes of him in action. They were watching. He didn't like the thought of them seeing Sienna pleasure him, but he would deal.

"Unchain me, then. They'll never know."

"I...can't."

Well, it had been worth a try. "So what are you waiting for, Sienna? Let's finish what we started at the caf¨¦."

REYES HADN'T NEEDED AERON'S location e-mailed to him. The bodies left a trail. Death and destruction accompanied Wrath everywhere he traveled and that saddened Reyes, because he knew if Aeron had been in his right mind, he would have been disgusted with himself.

As I am with myself.

For years Reyes had hovered near moral collapse, hating himself for the things he had to do to appease his demon. Killing innocents, torturing, destroying entire cities. This was the worst, though, following his friend, a man he loved like a brother. A man who had once helped him learn to control the monster inside him. Because...Reyes swallowed bile. Because he'd decided to kill the obsessed warrior.

I'm more demon than man, that I could contemplate this act, he thought darkly, but didn't change his mind. He'd known it would come to this, choosing between Aeron and Danika. He'd always thought he'd choose his friend. Now, when the decision was upon him, he knew that for the lie it was.

He couldn't abide the thought of Danika being hurt. She was the only thing in the world that gave him pleasure, though she'd never even touched him. He didn't deserve her; she probably wouldn't want him, anyway, but he was going to save her.

Hurry. Find her, get to her.

How? he almost screamed. Reyes was in the States, New York City to be exact, and Aeron's signal was beeping from his phone as if the warrior were flying overhead. But Reyes didn't see or hear him. No flap of wings, no animalistic roar.

All day, news stations had run somber stories of unexplained and violent deaths, of bodies ravaged by claws and teeth that didn't belong to a human. Now Reyes stood on a crowded street, cars honking behind him, people milling along the sidewalk beside him.

Had Aeron already found her? Was he finally sleeping, relaxed and at ease after a month of constant bloodlust?

Reyes barely resisted the urge to grab a mortal and shake, demand, roar.

A body suddenly fell from the night sky, plopping on the ground in front of him. A man. A human. Bloody. Dead. Several people gasped. Some screamed. Muscles tensing, Reyes lifted his gaze skyward. Finally, he caught sight of Aeron, who was grinning down at him tauntingly, wings flapping furiously toward one particular building.

Reyes locked his eyes on his friend - his target - and leapt into motion.

DO I HAVE WHAT IT TAKES to kill?

Danika Ford stared at herself in the dented and chipped bathroom mirror. She'd once considered herself an artist, a painter of - mostly - beautiful things. Everything she'd looked at had been fodder for her art. People: the turn of a wrist, the elegant slope of a back. Animals: fluidity and grace. Flowers: delicate petals and sensual colors.

Now she considered herself a fighter. A survivor.

A - she gulped - killer.

She had to be.

Just over a month ago, she'd been kidnapped while on vacation in Budapest and held hostage by six hulking giants who'd wanted to kill her. They hadn't, though. They hadn't even hurt her, actually, but she'd never felt so helpless, so out of control and desperate. And she refused to feel that way again.

Ever.

Those giants were after her once more; she knew it. Which was why she changed her location every few days. No matter where she was staying, though, she found someone to train her in hand-to-hand combat. She also trained with knives, with guns, with anything she could get her hands on.

Today her newest instructor had knocked her on her ass and told her she lacked the killer instinct required to survive in a life-or-death situation.

Several hot tears rolled down her cheeks now, and she slammed her fist into the glass. It shook but didn't break. Am I so feeble? Maybe her instructor was right. And he didn't even know the half of it. One of her kidnappers, Reyes, still plagued her dreams. She didn't want to hurt him, dark, sensual man that he was. She wanted to kiss him, to finally know his taste, to finally feel his strong arms around her.

Every night she dreamed of him.

"I'm a sick woman."

She stomped to her tiny rented bedroom, fell onto the mattress and picked up her disposable cell. Once she'd lived in a nice, average middle-class apartment, content, comfortable. Now she moved from shacks to motels to cardboard boxes to cars, poor and terrified, constantly looking over her shoulder.

Needing some reassurance, peace, something, she dialed her mother's own disposable cell number. Her entire family was in hiding - the four women separated to make the men's search more difficult - but they left their new numbers with friends and made sure to talk every day.

Her mom answered on the third ring, a sobbing rasp that instantly raised bile to the top of Danika's throat. "What's wrong?" she rushed out.

"It's your grandmother...she's...she's...oh, God, baby."

She was dead. Her grandmother was dead. "Murdered?" she managed to get out.

"I don't know. I can't find her, haven't heard from her. She seems to have disappeared for good. I've been so worried about you." Her mother sobbed, hiccupped.

Had Danika been standing, she would have collapsed. Rage skittered through her, even shuttered over her eyes. Rage and a strange kind of numbness, like she was standing in the middle of a dream and only needed to wake up. Wake up so that everything would be okay.

"You have to hide, baby. Please. I can't lose you, too."

Glass shattered in another room.

Danika gasped, snapping out of that numbing rage, her heart missing a beat and squeezing painfully.

"What's wrong?" her mom demanded.

"I think they found me," she whispered on a trembling breath. "Hide, Mom. Wherever you are, run and hide. I love you." Fighting terror-induced paralysis, she dropped the phone and stood to stiff legs. Oh, God. Her grandmother was most likely dead, and now she had been found. Weaponless. You knew better. Think, think! Legs shaking, stomach churning, she raced back into the bathroom and reached for the razor she kept on the sink.

Through the open door she could see a tall, muscled man stalk through the hallway, his wings scraping against the walls like fingers over a chalkboard. She nearly collapsed. Aeron. Aeron had found her. She remembered him well. His violent tattoos, his piercing gaze. If Reyes haunted her dreams, Aeron embodied her nightmares. He wasn't human, could fly like the dragons of myth, and was as fierce and deadly as any warrior of legend.

He paused in front of the bathroom doorway, sniffed the air. Blood spattered his face and stained his hands. Her grand-mother's?

Do something! Danika shocked herself by lunging for him, razor swinging for his throat. No killer instinct? She slashed at his jugular. If she failed to kill him, he would be free to attack her mother and sister - and that she wouldn't allow. Contact. Fresh blood instantly poured from the wound.

He didn't go down. He didn't fucking go down!

He turned toward her, grasping his neck and growling. His eyes blazed with red fire, and his teeth were elongated and snapping at her.

She held up the now-dripping razor. "Want some more? Bastard!" she screamed. "Come and get it!"

"Kill," he roared. He grabbed her hair, jerking her forward.

Her nose smacked into his chest. A scream bubbled in her throat, but she quickly cut it off. First rule of combat: stay calm.

She allowed her legs to slacken and he lost his hold on her hair, several strands ripping free. She rolled to her back, curled her body and slammed her feet up and into his stomach. He stumbled backward with a hiss and smacked into the coffee table. Wood and glass shattered. He fell.

Always go for the throat, her instructor said in her mind. Best way to render them helpless. Eyes slitted, Danika climbed to her knees, closed the distance between them and punched him in the throat - right where she'd cut him - opening the wound further.

Rage built inside her to a desperate degree, and she punched him again.

He growled at her with those teeth so sharp they gleamed. "Kill. Kill, kill, kill."

"Fuck you." Punch. Dear God. She could see the outline of something under his face. Something...dangerous, evil. A skeleton, a demon. It snarled at her, a bony mask of hate and darkness.

"Kill."

She tried to punch him again, but he grabbed her hand and squeezed. That was it, just a simple squeeze, yet she felt some of the bones snap. A cry of pain escaped her.

And then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Reyes burst through the front door and rush into the room. He was a blur of dark hair, dark skin and dark, furious eyes. His daggers were raised and he was panting, sweating.

"Reyes!" she shouted as Aeron stood, driving her to her back as he continued to squeeze her hand. Part of her wanted to sag in relief. Part of her wanted to run from him, too.

You can't rely on him. He helped kidnap you.

He saw her and froze. "Danika." He gasped her name with such reverence she was nearly felled.

Think of your mother. Your sister. She arched up and kicked Aeron in the jaw. Finally he released her hand. God, the pain. Her fingers were limp; she couldn't move them, the joints already swollen as though she'd stuffed golf balls under her skin.

Aeron backhanded her, and she flew to the side, entire body vibrating in pain. Her teeth rattled together; her mind blinked in and out of focus. Reyes howled and attacked. The two men grappled to the floor in a tangled heap beside her. Aeron slashed with claws and teeth, Reyes with his daggers. They roared and they cursed and they snarled.

Blinking in an effort to orient herself, Danika pushed to her feet. Swayed, almost vomited.

"Run," Reyes shouted to her.

She stumbled forward, only managing to pick up speed when she reached the outside hallway. Why Reyes was helping her, she didn't know. Would he die in there?

Tears burned her eyes as she ran.

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