And under it, the fresh golden smell starting to wear through her human camouflage. He should have noticed it first off, but he'd been confused. It was true.

Holy God, it was true.

She screamed and struggled, then he had his bloody right hand clamped over her mouth, glad he'd gotten rid of the knife. “Stay still,” he rasped. “Just fucking stay still, woman, if you know what's good for you.” Because if you don't I'm going to drag you into the bedroom and add another reason for you to fear me.

She went limp, leaning against the wall, and he inhaled the smell of her hair again. It calmed him as nothing else could. Mine. She's mine, and here. Her lips moved slightly against his palm—was she praying? Gasping for air? The sharp chemical smell of fear smashed through her scent, his body tightened one last time, pressing against her. She probably couldn't breathe, he had her pinned. She was alive.

He buried his face in her hair. Calm down. You're scaring her. Calm down, Ryan. Come on. You're better than this. You can calm down, you can calm her down, check to see if she's wounded, find out where the stone took her. And above all, just fucking calm down. A deep breath, all the way down into the bottom of his lungs, a soothing, pleasant burn working into his skin as the wounds started to heal, now that he was relaxing. Now that he was sure she was still alive.

"Are you hurt? Tell me, are you hurt?” I sound just one short step away from murder. What a coincidence. I feel just one short step away from doing something very, very bad. If they hurt her…?

One slow shake of her head, very slow, as if she was afraid to move. No. He didn't smell any blood on her, either. That was good. If she was hurt he might become unmanageable.

Christ, she doesn't have a clue how to manage me, either. Have to teach her, and soon.

"Good,” he murmured. “Very good. Now, were you followed?"

She shook her head, slowly. Then, deliberately, she shrugged. The movement made her breasts move, pressed against his chest, and he swallowed a hot flare of desire. You're frightening her. Stop it. Calm the fuck down. “I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth,” he said softly. “And you're going to be quiet. I'm on a hair-trigger right now, sweetheart. I won't hurt you, but it could get very uncomfortable for both of us if you set me off. I am not thinking clearly right now, I was out of my fucking mind worrying over you; I've become very fond of you in my own little way. You don't mind, do you?"

A hot wetness touched his right hand. Tears? Was she crying?

Christ, if she's crying I've really fucked up. “Forget it. Now, you're going to be quiet, right? No sudden moves, no screaming. All right?"

There was a long pause, she took in a small shuddering breath. She was so soft, he wanted nothing more than to touch her skin again. More of her skin, more of her. Wanted to press forward and press his mouth on hers, wanted to feel her breath against his as her lips opened, wanted all sorts of things. And he was very close to simply taking what he wanted, instead of keeping his self-control.

It's official. I'm a danger to the Order. But she's not just human, is she? That doesn't make it right, won't stop them from trying to put me down before I can explain. If they can catch me.

She nodded slowly, her chin dipping. Yes, the wetness touching his hand was tears. She was weeping.

The discovery broke the shell of rage, introduced something softer, something better, even though it broke his heart. He relaxed a little bit, his hand loosening. “I'm sorry. I didn't want to scare you. It's been a rough night.” He tried to speak softly. He relaxed further, peeled his hand away. She sniffed, a slight hitching movement. “You okay?"

Her voice was so calm he almost missed the trembling of panic underneath. “No, I'm not okay. What the hell happened back there? I woke up underground. And there were more—more of them—"

"Inkani?” His left fist relaxed a little, fell away from the wall, but he still leaned into her. She couldn't wriggle away. “Are you hurt?” She's not hurt. Thank God, she's not hurt.

"N-no. T-t-trolls.” It caught in her throat. “They l-let me go. The t-troll said I was being f-followed, that he would t-take me a safe way, without being f-followed."

"Trolls? Oh, stonekin.” There were Inkani there; they pulled back because of a stonekin counterattack. That makes sense. A stonekin brought you Below.

"Big g-green t-trolls.” Her voice broke. “He said I was f-f-followed."

"Maybe you were.” By who, though? And the stonekin took you Below. Bless them and their worship of the sun. “The Inkani was there at the tavern. My Malik's gone and I haven't reported in. I've been a bad boy."

"H-he said black s-smoke.” She swallowed dryly. He heard it, and he had the sudden incomprehensible desire to bury his face against her throat and taste the salt of the sweat springing up on her skin. The trembling in her and the harsh chemical spill of her fear tore through his control, left him shaking too.

He did, did he? And so he took you down Below. I thought you were already trussed in an Inkani cell, sweetheart. “They don't like Inkani.” He pushed himself back, away from the wall, his body aching with the need to press against hers. “They were hunted in the dark days; the Inkani put them in slave coffles to build the dark castles. There are still places underground where the blood of stonekin can be seen on the walls."

"That's horrible,” she whispered. “The d-d-demons… I thought they'd killed you, I thought you were g-gone—"

I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. “Tell me everything. Everything.” If the Inkani followed her, they're watching this place. But I sense no other demons here, all is as it should be. Did the stonekin cover her tracks and buy me some time? That's most likely. I owe them.

"Can I… can I turn the light on? And get changed?” The fear in her voice hurt him somehow. Did she think he was going to hurt her?

I might without meaning to, if I get clumsy. And I'm covered in blood and guck. “I don't look so good. I ran across some trouble.” I went fucking insane thinking they'd taken you, sweetheart. Relief unloosed his muscles further. She was alive, she was here, and nobody else had touched her. Everything was fine, for right now at least. “I think I've ruined this shirt.” He reached over, flicked the light switch. She flinched, blinking up at him, and the horrified expression on her face was equally gratifying and frustrating. I know I look like hell. You don't have to look like that.

"My God,” she whispered. “What happened to you?"

"Inkani.” He shrugged. “They attacked the tavern. The stone must have dragged you out while I slowed them down, exactly what he was supposed to do. Only I thought an Inkani had taken you. I went crazy.” He was still standing too close to her, could feel the heat from her body brushing his. He was on the fine edge. It wouldn't take much to push him over. “The thought of them hurting you…” Christ, I'm in deep.

She blinked. Her hair was mussed out of its sleek braid, but she was otherwise unharmed. There was dampness on her shoulders and her hair, from the rain that was now beginning to sweep restlessly against the window. The gold flecks in her eyes glowed as her gaze went down his body, taking in the blood and the ripped clothing, the dark stain over his smashed knee that was starting to twitch as it healed. Strangely enough, right now the pain didn't matter as much. He tried to pull himself up straighter under her scrutiny, as if she was a Malik choosing a new Drakul. “Good God,” she whispered, her lips shaping the words, and he stared at her mouth. “You look awful."

"Thanks.” One corner of his mouth tilted up slightly. He stared at her lips. I'm about to do something I shouldn't. But if I'm going to be damned, I might as well earn it.