“Magnus,” she whimpered. Her fingers were twisted so tightly in his hair it must have hurt, but if it did he took no notice, lavishing her with all his attention, stroking her with his tongue and lips and hands, setting an exquisitely languorous tempo of slide, rock, push, slide back, rock, push again, his entire body controlling hers.

The coil inside her wound tighter and tighter. Heat flashed over her skin and a bloom of sweat followed, her body now slick against his. She tightened her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders, moving faster, desperate for release, for that incredible pinnacle he was driving her toward. Writhing against him, she begged, “Please! Please!”

A growl rumbled through his chest. He was growing harder and harder inside her. He reached up and cupped the back of her neck in his hand, bringing his lips to her ear. “Give yourself to me. Give it all to me, angel. Now.”

It might have been that husky command that drove her over the edge, or the trigger of his own release, that throb and pulse deep inside her as he groaned and shook, but suddenly her nerves honed to a thousand shrieking exclamation points, she stopped breathing, and threw back her head on a scream of ecstasy.

She went off like a firework. Brilliant. Violent. Loud.

And the entire room around them—the bed and floors and walls—exploded into flame.

TWENTY-SEVEN

For the past ten minutes, Honor had been pacing.

Back and forth across Morgan’s living room floor, arms folded across her chest, chewing her lip as if she planned to make a meal of it. It wasn’t as though she could eat anything, even if she tried. Her stomach was squeezed into a horrible angry knot, mimicking what was happening to her heart and most of her other organs. She was so upset she had to keep reminding herself to breathe; there had already been one minor earthquake this morning. The colony didn’t need another.

“You’re sure that’s what she said? A few days?”

Honor whirled around to glare at Beckett. He stood against one wall with his foot propped up against it, looking as effortlessly gorgeous as ever. Although not, at the moment, quite as smug.

“Yes, I’m sure, Beckett! My mother was very clear; they’re going to exterminate her in a few days!”

“But, why, pet? What’s changed? Why now?” Morgan, seated on a sofa opposite the wall where Beckett stood, was white with shock. Xander, standing beside the sofa, looked as if he was about to explode with rage. His amber eyes had turned molten, murderous gold.

“Now,” Honor answered, her voice shaking, “the IF doesn’t need her anymore. They’ve figured out how to make the medicines without our DNA.”

Quiet took the room. “Which also means they don’t need any of the others in the facility they’re holding her in, either,” said Xander. “I wondered how long it would take them.”

Morgan gasped in horror, her hands lifting to cover her mouth. “No,” she whispered, eyes wide.

“Yes. They’re going to kill them all. Soon.” Honor resumed her pacing and lip chewing.

“Magnus and Lumina won’t let that happen. You know that.” Beckett pushed away from the wall, his expression uncharacteristically fierce, his normally clear eyes dark and stormy. He stood in a fighting stance with his legs spread shoulder width apart, chest back, hands curled to fists at his sides. Honor thought she’d never seen him look so . . . hot.

Shit.

“I don’t know anything! And neither do you! So spouting platitudes isn’t going to help the situation!” Honor snapped. Could she be any stupider, admiring that jerkoff at a time like this? She wanted to smack herself. Instead she turned away from the sight of his perfect, stupid face, and said over her shoulder, “Why are you even here, anyway? Don’t you have a few skirts to chase, hound dog?”

“Beckett was here when you came in, and he’s always welcome in my home.” Morgan’s tone was gentle, but scolding. She rose and approached Honor, reaching out to touch her shoulder as she came to stand close. She lowered her voice, looking at Honor with pointed reproof. “You both are. As long as you’re playing nice.”

“I’m nice,” she grumbled, shrugging off Morgan’s hand. “He’s the assho—”

“So what do we do now?” Beckett, loudly, cut her off. It was Xander who answered.

“We have to get word to Magnus. Honor, can you tell Lumina what’s happening? You know, the way you two talk?”

“I haven’t been able to reach her,” admitted Honor reluctantly. “She’s offline, so to speak.”

Honor had been trying like hell to reach out telepathically to her sister ever since she’d awoken from the dream in which their mother told her of Thorne’s plans. The news had been horrible, distressing, but Honor sensed there was something her mother had been holding back. The way she’d looked at her was so strange, both proud and terribly guilty. Honor hadn’t been able to figure it out, and her mother hadn’t explained. Aside from the obvious imminent threat of her death, something else caused her to turn away when Honor asked what could be done to stop Thorne from moving forward with his plans.

It was almost as if . . . as if she knew the answer, but wouldn’t say what it was.

No, that can’t be it. If her mother knew of any way to save herself and everyone else in that prison, she undoubtedly would have told her. The only thing that could save them now was Magnus and Hope.

She still refused to call her sister Lumina. That was like calling a golden egg a turd.

“I’ll try again in a while, but I don’t expect much. When Hope’s being bullheaded, nothing can get through to her.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” muttered Beckett, turning to leave.

“Excuse me?” demanded Honor, halting midpace to stare at his broad, retreating back. He stopped, turned, stared her dead in the eye.

“I’m sorry, were you operating under the mistaken impression that you’re reasonable, Honor? Because news flash: You’re as reasonable as a cyclone.” He smiled, a grim, cheerless specimen that didn’t reach his eyes. “And just as pleasant.”

Her mouth dropped open. The nerve of him! “I’m not reasonable? You’re the one who’s being led around like a dog on a collar by your dick!”

“Will you knock it off with the dog metaphors?” he snapped. He paced forward, angry, a menacing look narrowing his eyes.

“That was a simile, genius. I know it must be hard to think with all the blood drained from your head—”

“Why can’t you ever be nice, like for one minute? Is that too much to ask?” He walked closer, his long stride quickly eating up the space between them.

“Nice? Ha! You mean like how you’re nice, spreading ‘cheer’ throughout the colony with your magical penis?” She made air quotes around the word cheer, and his face reddened.

Morgan stood from the couch, about to intervene, but Xander grasped her hand and pulled her gently to his side. He said something in her ear that made her smile.

“Pets, we’ll be in the Assembly room if you need us,” she said as Xander led her away.

Honor and Beckett barely noticed they’d left. His long stride had brought him face-to-face with her in seconds. She looked up at him, wishing for the first time in her life that she was over six feet tall so she could stand eye to eye with him. She felt at a disadvantage having to tilt her head back, and she hated that feeling.

He moved even closer, invading her personal space. He was big and imposing, radiating heat and a fury she’d never seen in him before. Blinking, she stepped back.