She was readying Sariel’s release papers when her ink pen hit the desk with a clatter. “Oh my God.”

Sariel. If Kalen was Malik’s son then that meant . . .

Stunned, she sat back in her office chair and debated her next course of action. Talk to the prince? Or wait for Kalen? She decided on the latter. Waiting for him was not the same as keeping the news from the faery. It just wasn’t her place to share what she knew without speaking with her mate first.

“Mac?”

She looked up to see Melina standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“You look a million miles away. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She waved the other woman inside. “I was thinking Sariel is about ready to get sprung. What do you say?”

Her friend took the test results from Mac and looked them over. After a few moments, she nodded. “Looks good. Or as good as it can be, considering we don’t know what’s making him sick. It took him a helluva long time to recover from the witch’s attack, much longer than any of the shifters would have taken to heal. He didn’t need the injury on top of that.”

Mac managed to stifle a smile at her friend’s protective tone. Someone was more than a little sweet on a certain Fae prince. Melina would deck her if she mentioned it, though.

“Shall I give him the good news or would you rather do it?” Mac asked innocently.

“I’ll do it. I need to give him some instructions or he won’t take care of himself,” she muttered. Then she glanced up at Mac. “What?”

“Nothing.”

All too perceptive even on an “off” day, Melina peered at her face. “Have you been crying? Your eyes are puffy.”

“I—maybe.”

“What did that dickweed do now?”

“Don’t call my mate names,” she said in a low voice, bristling. “He’s dealing with a lot of shit right now.”

“Aren’t we all? And if he hurts you, he’s a dickweed. End of story.”

“We had a misunderstanding, and of course it took place in front of my dad.” She grimaced at the memory.

Melina’s eyes widened and she sat in a chair across Mac’s desk. “No way. How did the general take being in the middle of a spat between his daughter and her new mate?”

“About as well as you’d expect—he got royally pissed at both of us.”

“Care to talk about it?”

She hesitated. Actually, it would be nice to have another woman to talk to, and Mac was closer to Melina than to Rowan or Kira, having known the other doctor a lot longer. So she spilled her guts about the nice reunion with her dad that had quickly soured when Kalen learned what she’d been holding back.

Melina listened to the end, her expression softening in sympathy. “Nearly six peaceful years working here at the compound, and then bam. When you fuck up, you really give it the old one-two knockout punch.”

Mac threw the ballpoint pen at her friend, and it bounced harmlessly off her shoulder. “Bitch. I feel so much better now, thanks.”

“What are friends for?” Melina studied her for a moment, then grew serious. “Sweetie, what are you going to do if he loses his fight against Malik?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, a painful knot in her throat.

“Do you think he’d hurt you or the baby?”

Her gaze dropped to her desk and she studied the wood grain on the surface. “I’d like to think he wouldn’t, but honestly? That’s my greatest fear. That one day soon he won’t be able to distinguish between right and wrong, and he’ll do something that will hurt us, even if it’s indirectly.”

“Is that what you really believe?” Kalen’s voice asked breathlessly from the doorway.

Mac froze. Then her eyes lifted and met her mate’s. His breathing was coming harshly, as though he’d been running, and his pupils were too large again. She hoped he hadn’t been where she suspected. “Have you been with Malik?”

“My question first,” he countered. “Is that what you think of me? That I’d hurt you or our child, or that I’d allow anyone else to hurt you?”

“I wish I could say no,” she whispered, agonized. “But it’s impossible to be sure when you’re consorting with the enemy.”

Hurt flashed in his expression and his jaw ticced. “I had to ask him whether it was true that I’m his son.”

“I think it’s sad that you would look to him for the truth about anything.”

“He is telling the truth, at least about this. I have a father and a half brother. I have family.”

“Sariel might be your brother, but that thing is not and never will be any kind of a father,” she said, her voice rising. “A real father wouldn’t have left you starving on the streets while he watched and refused to lift a finger to help you.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he rasped. “You have a great dad who loves you more than anything and I’ll never experience that for myself. Don’t you understand how much that hurts? How hard it is to resist any kindness that comes out of his lying mouth?”

“I do—”

“No. You don’t. He wants me to—” Swaying, Kalen grabbed his head and hissed in pain. Mac stood and would’ve gone to him, but he waved her off with a laugh that sounded slightly crazed. “Don’t touch me!”

“Kalen—”

“Don’t dirty your hands with the likes of me,” he snarled, eyes wild. “Oh, wait—too late for that. Too bad you’re stuck with Malik’s son for a mate.”

Fear gripped her heart. He was losing his struggle with his dark half—if he hadn’t lost already. “Please, I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean—”

“Never mind. The truth is, you’re right. You should be afraid of me. In fact, you need to stay as far from me as you can get.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll do it for you.” His green eyes were blank marbles as he held her gaze for a long moment, then turned and slammed out.

Melina looked shaken. “My God. His eyes . . . That wasn’t Kalen.”

I won’t cry. It’s not over.

“How are we going to help him?” she asked Melina. “Do you think we could try dosing him with the new sedative we’ve been using on Micah? It’s helped him, so why not Kalen?”

“Because we’re fighting dark magic here, my friend. I think being sedated will only lower his defenses all the way, leaving him completely vulnerable to the Unseelie’s influence.” Melina shook her head. “At this point, Kalen is the one who’s going to have to save himself.”

Mac was terribly afraid her friend was right.

Mac thought he was capable of harming her. Possibly their child.

Nothing could have broken his heart more effectively than hearing that from his mate’s lips—except knowing it was entirely possible she was right.

Weary, Kalen paused at the end of the hallway and fought the urge to see Sariel. On the way back to the compound, he’d taken his time. Had fought hard to regain some control over his dark half, and the closer he came to Mackenzie, the more his mind cleared. But not all the way. The need to kill was agonizing. But he had to see the prince, or else he’d be driven out of his mind not knowing if he could resist the compulsion to follow through on Malik’s orders.

Outside Sariel’s room he knocked and then went on inside. Sariel was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a pair of loose-fitting pants and a shirt that was slit on the back to accommodate his wings.

“Hello, Sorcerer. I’m getting out of here today, or I’m supposed to,” the faery told him with a smile.

“Good for you.” The flat tone of his voice was unintentional, but it quickly told the prince that something was off.

“What’s wrong?” The Fae’s brow furrowed.

“I’m supposed to kill you. You get that, right?”

To his surprise, the prince gave a soft laugh. “Am I supposed to be shocked? Afraid? Let me remind you of something, fledgling. I’m more than eleven thousand years old. Can you wrap your brain around that number? Do you actually believe in all that time nobody has ever wanted me dead? I’m a prince of my kind, Kalen. Besides my sire, enemies abound. Been there, done that, got the merit badge in survival, as humans say.”