First, try to talk to the witch.

When the door opened, though, it was not Adam. Mallory stood there. She was partially blocked by the doorframe. Kaleb knew by her expression of barely contained anger that she knew what he was, but she didn’t slam the door in his face. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“You aren’t welcome here.”

“Why?” Kaleb prompted quietly. There was no way to stop this conversation, despite the horror he saw in her eyes. She knew a lot more than he’d thought when they’d met—and all of it influenced by witches.

“Because you’re a daimon,” she said.

“I am.” Kaleb debated crossing the threshold, but he thought it wiser to wait. “He raised you to hate us. I understand that. Witches and daimons have a long history of hatred, but we’re not all bad—neither are witches.”

“Your kind killed his family. They . . . you are why we run.” She looked directly at him as she moved her hand from behind the doorframe so that he could see that she held a gun, a matte black thing that he knew had more than enough bullets to kill him. She offered him a smile that was reminiscent of the one Adam had worn when he tortured Kaleb. “Adam and I just want to live in peace. I won’t let you hurt him. It’s bad enough that I let you into our home. Don’t think I’ll let you hurt him.”

“I don’t want to hurt Adam.” Kaleb didn’t back away.

She lifted the gun so it was pointed at his chest. “Have you seen him?”

“No.” Kaleb winced inwardly at the alarm in her voice. The old witch wasn’t there, which, on one hand, was great, but on the other hand could mean trouble. Now that Kaleb had married Mallory, the protection the witch had had from Marchosias himself was gone. Marchosias was a lot of things, but he adhered to law. If the law declared Mallory Adam’s child until she was eighteen, Marchosias wouldn’t come to retrieve her until her eighteenth birthday. He might exploit a loophole—by allowing Kaleb to marry her—but he wouldn’t break the law outright. Now that Mallory had been given into Kaleb’s possession, Adam was just a witch without reason to live. None of which Kaleb wanted to explain to Mallory.

“Did you hurt him?” she prompted.

“No. I’m here because of you, because I care for you.” He stared at her, looking for the flicker of relaxation that would let him take the weapon. He didn’t want to frighten her. He had hopes that she’d never see him the way he was in the fights. “I’m not here to hurt you or Adam. I swear it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Kaleb kept his gaze fastened on her. “I haven’t lied about the important things. I just couldn’t tell you everything.”

“I’m sick of everyone keeping things from me,” Mallory muttered.

The secrets Kaleb had kept from her weren’t any worse than the ones Adam had kept—up until now. The temptation to tell her that they were wed vied with the reality that Mallory was apt to run from him if he told her that detail. Silently, he vowed to them both that once they got past these secrets, he wouldn’t keep anything from her. He simply couldn’t tell her everything all at once, especially when she was already upset. For now, all he said was, “I will answer questions, as many as I can.”

“What was that woman? The one with the birds and the ashes?”

“Watcher,” he said softly. “She’s called a Watcher.”

“They’re a sort of daimon,” she half asked, half stated.

He nodded.

“And she was here because of me?”

“Yes,” he said. “Others will come too. I’m here to protect you; I’ll stay by your side through any threat.”

Her shoulders went back, and she stared at him. “I have spent years training, and there are . . .” Her words faded.

“Wards,” he completed. “Adam is a witch who has warded the house.”

“That means you can’t come in.” Mallory swallowed nervously and lowered the gun a fraction—which was all he needed. He caught her wrist with one hand, forcing her arm upward so that if she did squeeze the trigger, she’d be firing into the air. At the same time, he stepped into her house and wrapped his other arm around her waist. He held her firmly against him and walked forward, using his larger size and momentum to propel her.

He caught the door with his foot and shoved it closed.

The gun was now aimed at her ceiling, and she struggled in his grip, but they weren’t standing exposed to any passerby who could see her weapon aimed at his chest.

“Actually, I can come in,” he said. “It’s better to have this conversation inside, and it’s easier to protect you.”

She wasn’t listening though. Her free hand was hitting and clawing at his face. At the same time, she pulled her knee up as hard as she could. He grunted in pain, but he didn’t release his hold.

“Let go,” she demanded.

“I need you to listen, Mallory.”

“Let me go.” She went limp, using her weight to try to throw him off-balance since he wasn’t responding to her attempts to tug away or to her striking him.

“Stop.” Kaleb growled this time.

At the sound of his very not-human growl, Mallory froze. She stayed completely still in his grasp. “I don’t know where it is, but if you tell me what he took, I might be able to help you get it, and then you can give it to them, and—”

“I know what he took,” Kaleb interrupted. “I’m not going to give— I’m not here to help someone else, Mallory. I’m here for you. I meant it when I said I would stand beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m telling you the truth.” Kaleb kissed her chastely.

Her lips were motionless under his, and he had to remind himself that they had a connection even if she was denying it. She was his wife, and even if she didn’t know yet, she would. A swell of panic filled him at the thought of her fate—and his—if she refused to accept him as her mated partner. Marchosias would kill him and give Mallory to another daimon.

Calmly, Kaleb said, “I came here even after the witch threatened to kill me because I want to be with you. You know he was ready to kill me, but I’m here. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

MALLORY’S INSTINCTIVE—AND FOOLISH—desire to trust Kaleb vied with years of her father’s lessons. Those lessons had never concentrated on daimons manipulating her. In Adam’s myriad lectures, the focus was on the fact that daimons were crude brutes she should kill at first chance. He spoke of their strength, their cruelty, their history of brutality against witches. He didn’t tell her they would kiss her and promise to help her. He didn’t tell me a lot of other things, a guilty voice reminded her. She wanted to believe in him, but he’d kept secrets, spelled her, and, despite his assurances yesterday, he’d not come home to give her the answers he’d promised. She floated between worry that the daimons had found him and the possibility that he was avoiding her.

She wasn’t going to share her doubts with Kaleb though, so she said, “When my father gets here—” Her words were cut off as the window beside the door shattered.

An arm reached through the broken glass toward the dead bolt—and then, in an almost simultaneous moment, went still. The arm drooped, and she heard a thump outside the door.

“Shhhh.” Kaleb held up one finger in a wait gesture.

She nodded.

He released her and mouthed, “Wait.”

Then he walked to the living room window and pulled back the edge of the curtain. He turned to her and said quietly, “Stay inside. I’ll take care of this.”

“What happen—”

“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated. “You stay inside.”

Then he left.

The 9mm still in her hand, she peeked between the blinds—and saw Kaleb carrying someone down the street. At least she thought she did, and then a moment later it was as if she had imagined it. She stared at the street and saw absolutely no one. No Kaleb. No body. Mallory clutched the gun and glanced at the window. The window was intact, as if the wards were still in place. Working wards would stop any entry and repair the entry point. How did Kaleb get in then? She walked over to the window, laid her hand on the perfect pane, and shook her head. She lowered the gun, but still held it loosely in one hand. She stepped backward—directly onto the broken glass all over her floor.