“I’ll need to touch you,” she told the werecougar. “It won’t hurt. But it’ll feel strange, like you’re a piece of clay in the hands of a sculptor. The calmer you are, the faster it will go.”

She waited for him to make eye contact and consciously relax his taut muscles before she slowly leaned over and placed her fingers against the bare human skin. At first there was only a tingle, as if the magic of her gift was gathering information about the nature of her patient. The sensation passed and then she applied her will and her fingertips became like blunt knives sliding into soft clay, only more so.

It was a melding that took her completely, sucked her in and blocked everything else out. She saw the human parts that needed to be pushed back from the surface. She tugged at the fabric of the cougar, expanding it, pulling it forward to conceal anything not matching it.

When she came back to herself, a mountain lion was rising to its feet where the wereman had lain. It shook itself off, gold-colored eyes meeting hers briefly before its attention centered on the wolf.

The cougar went into a crouch, revealing yellowed, deadly fangs as it gave a feral snarl and prepared to leap. Levi’s gun was out before Rebekka could move.

“Leave or die,” he said, and even in a human form, Levi was alpha, the gun replacing the teeth and claws of his lion form.

The cougar slunk away, waiting until he’d gained the sanctuary of the forest before he screamed in protest at being denied the opportunity to attack the werewolf. The werewolf whined and grov eled, crawled over to lick Rebekka’s foot before slipping into the woods where all signs of obsequiousness disappeared.

ARAÑA stopped when she reached the stream. She knelt and splashed cold water on her face before drinking, her eyes searching for and finding the markers Levi had described during the hike to the cemetery.

There was safety upstream, a small concealed lair he’d built with his brother before they were captured and sold to the maze owner. To get there she’d travel in the creek, a risk because water drew prey and predators alike, but an advantage because water also would make it more difficult to track her.

It had been an unconscious decision to head there rather than back to Oakland. Some instinct guiding her, or perhaps it was training—splitting up lessened the odds of being caught.

Separating herself from Levi and Rebekka had also allowed her a chance to think, to make her own plans. After today’s events, she considered her debt to them paid.

Her side throbbed painfully. Of greater concern was the blood soaking her shirt, a scent guaranteed to attract predators. She listened for the sound of Tir and heard only insects and birds.

It was for the best, she told herself. She’d known the moment his footsteps slowed, but she’d kept going despite the cry in her heart.

For a moment she allowed herself to remember his beauty, the heat she’d seen in his eyes when she’d knelt in front of him, and afterward when he’d reached for her. It was better this way, she repeated, turning it into a mantra. Whatever had caused her to touch her life to his in the vision place, it didn’t change the truth of what the demon mark meant.

Staying with him and being unable to touch him or be touched in return would be torture. Coming to care for him would only lead to horror and pain.

Her throat closed up as memories rose, stark and brutal. Once she’d foolishly thought love could make a difference. She’d thought the convictions of her heart and the driving need to act on them would make a difference. She’d believed in whispered words and sweet promises, in a confident tone and a knowing masculine smile.

Araña opened her eyes and found the spider still on her hand. She shivered as she remembered the man she’d thought she was in love with when she was sixteen, how he’d coaxed her into sneaking away to his boat even after Erik and Matthew had warned her against it until they could learn more about him.

As with the guardsman who’d tried to rape her, the demon mark didn’t hesitate to kill. Only unlike that death, she still carried the guilt of the other one with her.

She would never have what other women had. She’d never know what it was like to be held and caressed, to give her body over to a man, to claim and be claimed physically.

Araña forced her thoughts to the present. She stood, her hands settling on the knife hilts. The need for revenge burned like a hot ember in her belly, as did finding a way to reclaim the boat. Without Constellation there was little chance of getting home.

A stab of pain sliced through her with the word. Home was more than a place. Home had always meant Matthew and Erik. She stiffened her spine and found her earlier resolve not to allow grief to swallow her.

The sudden silence of the forest cut through her thoughts and sent her heart racing. She turned, expecting to see guardsmen, or Tir.

Instead there was a flash of gray as a dragon lizard erupted from the growth. It was on her in a burst of speed.

If her hands hadn’t been resting on the hilts of her knives, there would have been no time to draw a weapon. She pulled the blades, and slashed at the deadly reptile even as it knocked her to the ground.

Her forearm against its neck was the only thing keeping it from biting her. Its tail and head thrashed violently as she sliced its underbelly, adrenaline giving her strength though its weight hampered her movements.

Fetid breath struck her face. Claws raked against her chest and sides.

Pain spurred her on and terror turned her into a creature of pure instinct.

Fluids gushed from the lizard’s body and into her wounds. Burning. Stinging. Increasing her fear and making her more savage.

She dragged the knife upward and felt slick entrails emerge from the opening. The dragon lizard rolled away, trailing viscera.

Araña tried to get to her feet but slipped on blood and gore in a wave of nausea. She hit the ground and the lizard’s head snapped around. It lunged, the orange irises marking it as male.

Her blades were there to meet the attack, this time going into the neck, driven deep by the lizard’s momentum. Its blood sprayed across her face, into her eyes, blinding her so she didn’t see the moment the reptile died, though she felt the severing of its spine as one of the knives slid through it.

Araña’s arms trembled as she held the lizard’s upper body away from her and wiped her face against the sleeve of her torn shirt. When she could see, she pushed the reptile to the side but remained crouched rather than trying to get to her feet.

This time the dragon lizard didn’t move. Its orange eyes dulled as she watched.

She stood slowly then. Became aware of the sound of panting intermingled with whimpers and realized it was coming from her.

Her heart thundered, beating so hard that pain reverberated through her, drawing her attention down to her shredded shirt and flesh, to the blood trailing in bright red rivulets to soak into her pants.

The demon mark was on the back of her hand. She didn’t know whether it had sent its poison into the lizard or not. She guessed it had for the fight to end so quickly and without her feeling the lizard’s teeth sink into her skin.

The venom and bacteria from the reptile’s mouth would have turned her into walking death, a corpse waiting only for organs to fail and a final breath.

Adrenaline washed out of her, leaving her trembling, vomiting for long moments. She got into the creek and lay down, letting the cold water wash away the stink of lizard and the fluids coating her clothing and skin.

Her teeth were chattering by the time she rose to her feet. Dizziness made her stagger.

Araña fought it. She forced it away and started up the creek toward the lair and sanctuary.