Shane relaxed ever so slightly. This wasn’t the man he’d foreseen, then. The chances of him surviving this encounter had just gone up exponentially.

“No. My mother was pregnant with me when the Dark Queen took her, turned her.” Klaussner’s face rippled, his face turning almost elfin. The ginger hair on top of his head was a pale reflection of Robin’s red mane. His eyes turned to pure amber rimmed with Robin’s green light. Even his body changed, elongated, became lean and supple. Goat horns rose from his temples, reminding Shane of why they were often called devils. Vampiric fangs, delicate and deadly, graced his smile, a gift from his mother’s change.

Oh. Oh shit. This might even be worse than the man Shane had feared it would be. “A vampiric pooka?”

Klaussner nodded, looking pleased. “She is. She’s beautiful, so filled with dark power.”

Shane smiled. “My mate is going to rip your head off and shit down your neck.”

Klaussner merely clucked his tongue. “Speaking of your dragon mate, we know what her weakness is.”

“Akane doesn’t have a weakness.” Shane watched as Klaussner picked up something that looked like a quilting tool his mother had. It looked remarkably like a pizza cutter, but with a hood over the blade. He thought it was called a rotary cutter, but he wasn’t sure.

“Oh yes, she does.” Klaussner ran the blade over Shane’s stomach, sighing in pleasure as the blood welled up.

Shane held himself still, barely. He wasn’t giving Klaussner the pleasure of seeing him squirm. “And that would be?”

“You.” Klaussner took the blade and ran it across the dragon tattoo, making sure to cut the wings.

Shane, horrified, scrambled to pull away from the blade. Gods, please don’t let her wings be damaged. “Why are you doing this?”

Klaussner smiled at someone standing above Shane’s head. “For love.”

Constance Malmayne stepped into the light, her blue-gray eyes hard, her sleek golden hair knotted at the base of her skull. She smiled at Klaussner, and suddenly Shane saw what had been missing in his visions recently. Cullen and Kaitlynn, even Charles himself, were but pawns in Constance Malmayne’s bid for power. The vision that danced before his eyes made his blood run cold. “Does Henri know that you’re planning to kill him?”

Constance smiled. “See, Hobart? I told you his visions would be useful.”

Wait. Hobart? “Does He know?” Shane tried not to twitch as the blade came close to his tattoo once more. If he moved the wrong way he was terrified he’d accidentally cripple Akane. He dared not say Robin’s name out loud, though he screamed it in his head. If he did say it aloud the two might outright kill him for fear of attracting the Hob’s attention.

“Does who know?”

“That you’re named after him.”

The blade paused. “No. But He will.” He looked up from the blood seeping from Shane’s flesh, those familiar green eyes strange in Klaussner’s thin, horned face. “I am my father’s son.”

The first black tentacle struck and Shane screamed, but when the poison pumped into his system the agony pushed him beyond even that.

Oh dear gods, this had better be worth it.

Akane streaked through the night sky, her wings beating furiously. Dark blood dripped from a cut across one of them, the pain a distant worry. Her wings worked and could carry her to her mate. That was all she cared about.

Akane could sense where Shane was. His blood scented the air, the sweet smell stronger the closer she got. It wouldn’t be long before the others came, before Jaden made his way to his bondmate’s brother, before Tristan tried to save what was left of his clan. Akane didn’t care.

The Malmaynes were dead. They just didn’t know it yet.

She wasn’t surprised they hadn’t taken Shane to the Malmayne estate. It would be too easy to figure out, too easy to check, and Jaden had proven he could get in and out at will. So taking Shane to another location was the smart thing to do.

Too bad for them they didn’t know how strongly bonded she already was to her hybrid mate. Shane’s scent filled her senses; his essence was etched across her soul. She’d be able to find him now no matter where in the world he went.

How could she have been so stupid? She’d finished the dragon mating yet still believed that somehow they would not wind up together. Shane deserved someone who could give him a normal life, not someone who would constantly put him in danger or be away from him for long periods of time. She’d known that from the start, but the gold flooding her system had ended all her resistance. She’d marked him, made him hers, and there was no taking that back. She should never have left her lover’s side, never left him vulnerable. It was her fault he’d been taken, and if he died she would curl up around him and die with him.

Had he known all along that dragons literally mated for life?

There. She’d found him, found the source of his pain. They’d taken him to an abandoned farm, the dilapidated house and barn ghosts of what the Dunne farm was. She swooped down toward the barn, his scent strongest there. She could hear low, murmuring voices, both familiar, both surprising. It was what she didn’t hear that terrified her.

Two beings breathed. Two. And neither of them was her mate.

Akane blew, fire erupting from her throat, engulfing the dry wood of the barn with her fury. Flames shot into the sky, a beacon to those who followed her.

Two figures ran out of the burning barn. Where was her mate?

Akane swooped down, her rage burning hotter than the fire behind her. On silent wings she glided, claws extended, intent on ripping, on shredding.

One of the running figures glanced back and, shrieking, shoved the other down. Akane got a glimpse of silver eyes and rumpled blonde hair. She chose to ignore the one who’d been shoved down, intent on capturing a Malmayne between her claws. She grabbed the female, making sure her claws dug into the woman’s sides before beginning her ascent.

The Sidhe female screamed and struggled, but it only served to dig Akane’s claws in deeper. Blood dripped down Constance’s sides and legs, the wounds deep. “Let me go!”

Akane laughed. “You took my mate.”

“He’s still alive! He—he’s in the barn!”

Akane looked, listened beneath the roaring of her flames, but no heartbeat could be detected. No breath stirred. “You lie. He’s not in there.” He couldn’t be. If he was inside then… No. She couldn’t think like that.

No heartbeat, no breath meant no life, and that was something Akane couldn’t accept.

“No! Hobart’s poison put him in a coma. We didn’t want him fi—fighting us.”

Akane clenched her hands, ignoring the female’s shrieks. “Why?”

“Transport,” the female gasped. “We needed to take him away.”

“To?”

“I can’t say!” The female gasped as Akane loosened her grip. She grabbed hold of Akane’s arms. “No! Please!”

Akane looked down. She’d taken the female high, high enough that simply letting go would be enough to kill. “Why should I let you live?”

The female was sobbing. “Please don’t.”

“Tell me who you were bringing him to.”

“No! He’ll kill me.”

Akane let go.

The female screamed, barely holding on to Akane’s arms. “I’ll tell, I’ll tell!”

Akane grabbed her again and headed toward the burning barn. “Who?”

The female told her a name that almost had Akane drop her, this time in shock.

Robin followed Leo out of the house in a foul mood. The Sidhe’s odd bond with his land had at least given them a heads’ up, but if Leo was correct then the man waiting for them was not one to be trifled with.

But then again, neither was Robin, and he’d danced with this one before.

“Ho, Bres.” Beside him, Leo jumped. It was rare that the leader of the redcaps came from his shadowy lair. The Fomorian was one of the oldest, and last, of his kind, and ruled the redcaps with an iron fist. He’d once been king of the Tuatha Dé and forced them to act as slaves to the Fomorian rulers. Now he ruled the most brutal thugs in the fae world.