“I knew there were Dragon Kings in the city,” came a voice behind him.

Darius smiled as he faced the three Dark he had seen circling the hospital. “I didna think you idiots would ever find me.”

“What did you want with a doctor?” asked one.

Darius shrugged and widened his stance. “If you best me, I’ll tell you. But you willna best me.”

He lunged forward, ducking a blast of magic and slammed his fist into the abdomen of one of the Dark. The only time he felt … normal … was when he was killing the vermin.

*   *   *

Sophie had her mobile phone in her hand. She was about to call Darcy and see if she had sent Darius, but Sophie hesitated.

It had been Darius’s admission of not being a nice guy that threw her off. Most lied, but he was deliberately honest. And that struck her as … odd.

Much to her dismay, it intrigued her as well. She didn’t want to be intrigued. She had gone out of her way to keep all men at a distance for over seven years.

Sophie was exhausted after a fourteen-hour shift at the hospital, but just as Darcy said, Sophie never refused someone in need.

When the taxi stopped, she quickly looked around the area. With all the murders each night, being careless was no longer an option.

She paid the taxi and stepped out of the car to find a tall man with long dark hair waiting for her. He smiled and held out his hand. On instinct, Sophie took it.

“I’m Thorn. Darius said you agreed to come. Thank you,” the man said. He motioned to the door as he looked behind her. “We best get inside so you can see to Lexi.”

Sophie watched Thorn carefully. He was vigilant, the kind of man who appeared calm and unobservant when he was anything but. He was the kind of man who knew when danger was coming before anyone else.

The same kind of man Darius was.

Sophie wondered if she should turn around and leave. She had the unwavering feeling that she was getting involved in something perilous. But something urged her onward.

“Lead the way,” she told Thorn.

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Thorn watched with his arms crossed over his chest from the end of the bed as Dr. Sophie Martin examined Lexi. After several minutes, Sophie sat back in the chair Thorn had used.

She opened her black bag and pulled out a syringe and a small bottle. “She has the flu. How long has she been ill?”

“About three days. I got her fever down, but that didna seem to help much.”

Sophie glanced at him before she filled the syringe with liquid and then put the needle in Lexi’s arm and drained it. “This will help. It’s an antibiotic.”

Thorn let his arms drop. “She’s going to be all right?”

“Yes,” Sophie said and smiled at him. “You’ve done a good job.”

“She doesna make it easy,” Thorn grumbled.

“Patients rarely do. Make sure she stays hydrated.”

Thorn watched Sophie gather her things and stand. “So … that’s it? Just a shot? That will make her well?”

“It should, yes. I would’ve preferred to talk to her, but I couldn’t get her to wake up. I’d like to return tomorrow and check in on her.”

Thorn readily agreed.

Sophie walked to the door. “Keep her out of the weather.”

“You needn’t worry about that. I doona intend to let her out of the door.”

Sophie’s olive gaze went to the bed once more as her smile faded. “Darius said she was in some danger.”

“In truth, doctor, everyone in the city is if you read the papers.”

She opened the door. “I also see the news.”

“Steer clear of anyone with red eyes.”

“No one has red eyes.”

Thorn bowed his head. “As you say. Be careful out there, doc.”

“And you,” she said before she walked away, the door closing softly behind her.

Thorn sent a quick text to Warrick and Darcy to let them know that Sophie had visited and treated Lexi. All Thorn had to do now was wait for Lexi to wake up.

That he wasn’t looking forward to. The only reason she hadn’t left the flat earlier was because she was ill and weak. After the shot, she might well wake feeling better than before.

Then Thorn would have a hell of a time keeping her inside the flat. He had wanted to avoid telling her all the details of the Dark, but he had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to have a choice.

Ireland

Dark Fae Palace

Ulrik stood next to his uncle, Mikkel, as they waited for the king of the Dark Fae to finish his whispered conversation with Balladyn.

“I’d appreciate more of a heads-up before you have a Dark take me from my shop,” Ulrik said in a low voice.

Mikkel chuckled. “Acting a little childish now, aren’t you?”

“You know the Kings watch me. You’re making things worse.”

“As if I care,” Mikkel stated in a harsh tone, the vocals coming out nasally as he used the British accent he had perfected. “You’re here to get your revenge and ensure that none of the Kings realize I’m the one really pulling the strings.”

Balladyn turned away from Taraeth, his gaze landing on Ulrik. It was clear to one and all that Balladyn was ready to make his attempt at the throne. Ulrik wondered if Taraeth knew.

He imagined that Taraeth thought himself above such things. Just as Mikkel assumed Ulrik would stand there and let him rule the Silvers.

Not. Going. To. Happen.

Ulrik had suffered more than any being on the planet with his Silvers just a few hours from him. Let Mikkel think what he would. The bastard was too self-assured to realize he was underestimating Ulrik.

Just as Con was.

“I would’ve loved to have been there to see Con’s face when you killed the Druid,” Mikkel said with a satisfied smile. “If they were no’ going to kill you, they will now. I understand she was Warrick’s mate.”

At Taraeth’s nod, Mikkel walked to the king of the Dark. Ulrik glared at his uncle’s back. Just as he thought he might have a few minutes to himself, Balladyn came to stand beside him.

“Mikkel is making great headway against the Kings.”

Ulrik clasped his hands behind his back and shifted his shoulders in the jacket of his charcoal gray suit jacket. “Enough of the shite. What do you want?”

“I want you to stay away from Rhi.”

This surprised Ulrik. He turned his head to look at the Dark who was watching Taraeth and Mikkel. “You want to warn me away from her?”

“She’s had enough dealings with the Kings. It’s time she returned to her own.”

“You’re no’ one of her own, or do I need to give you a mirror?”

Balladyn’s nostrils flared as his head swiveled and he glared at Ulrik. “Rhi was always meant to be mine.”

“Perhaps you should tell her that.” At his silence, Ulrik smiled. “You have. Let me guess, Rhi didna take your offer.”

“She just needs time.”

“If you think she’ll turn off her love for her King, then you doona know her at all.”

Balladyn looked him up and down. His Irish accent was thick with anger when he said, “Then you know you don’t stand a chance with her.”

“Oh, I doona know about that,” Ulrik said, agitating Balladyn further.

Balladyn’s red eyes narrowed into slits. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Who do you think carried her out of your fortress after you tortured her? Who do you think she visits when she needs to talk? She has an amazing mouth. If I’d known how delicious she tasted, I’d have kissed her centuries ago.”

Balladyn growled and pulled back his hand. The only thing that stopped him from using magic was Taraeth calling his name.

Ulrik smiled. “Your chain has been yanked. Go to your master.”

“You have one as well.”

But not for long. Ulrik watched as Balladyn turned and walked out of the chamber. The Dark had it bad for Rhi. Balladyn was taking things slow for the moment, but when would he push her to make a decision?

Long, slender fingers slid over Ulrik’s shoulder and then down and across his chest. The female Dark came around to stand in front of him in a dark silver silk chemise. Her black hair hung midway down her back with thick stripes of silver running through it.