It was your fault for scaring me,she proclaimed.

Beneath them moss-covered cypress trees stood in the water. Dense reeds rose out of the marsh. The bayou was teeming with life, with sounds of insects and birds and frogs. Turtles shared the fallen, rotting logs with young alligators, and snakes slithered or wound themselves, sated and drowsy, along branches. The male bird prodded the female, and they soared above the beauty of the night for a time, watching the ever-changing scene below them.

Gregori sent a call into the night, seeking the one who would fulfill Savannah’s wish. She wanted a guide, one who had been born and raised in the area and who could answer all her questions. A boat moved up through the waters in answer to his summons. He had been particularly strong in his command, urging the man to answer immediately. Land on the rock below, Savannah, and shape-shift as you do so. I will hold the image with you.

For a moment she was afraid. The rock was not particularly large, and the marsh was treacherous. Trust in me, mapetite. I would never allow anything to happen to you,Gregori reassured her gently. She could feel the comfort of his strong arms surrounding her, even in the form of a bird.

The extent of Gregori’s powers always astonished Savannah. He certainly was legendary. All Carpathians spoke of him in whispers. She had believed he was powerful, but she had not conceived of the things of which he was capable. She felt unexpected pride in him and an astonishment that he would want someone so inexperienced in Carpathian ways, in the essentials of their training, as she was.

I will teach you all you need to know,chérie, and I will enjoy the teaching,he whispered softly in her head. She could feel the fire instantly moving through her blood at the whisper of his voice.

The small bird’s talons aimed down and sought purchase on the boulder even while her slender form shimmered in the humid air. As hers solidified, the male bird of prey found a small patch of stable ground nearby to land on. He glided in smoothly on two feet, his muscular frame dwarfing Savannah’s. They could hear the steady drone of the boat’s engine as it chugged toward them. Laughing, Savannah jumped from her precarious perch on the boulder into the safety of Gregori’s arms.

He caught her, crushing her against his chest, sheer elation, exhilaration, rushing through his veins. To feel again was beyond his comprehension, to feel like this, to have such joy in him, was totally unbelievable. He whispered to her in the ancient language, words of love and commitment that he could not find a way to express in any other language. She was more than she could ever know to him; she was his life, the very air he breathed. You worry about the most ridiculous things,he said gruffly, burying his face for just a moment against her neck, inhaling her scent.

“Do I?” she asked aloud, her eyes dancing at him. “You’re the one always concerned I’m going to do something wild.”

“You do wild things,” he answered complacently. “I never know what you are going to do next. It is a good thing I reside in your mind, ma petite,or I would have to be locked up in the nearest asylum.”

Her lips brushed his chin, feathered along his jaw, then nibbled enticingly at the edge of his mouth. “I think you should be locked up. You’re positively lethal to women.”

“Not to women, only to you.” Gregori stopped her teasing mouth with his own, taking possession despite the fact that the boat was almost alongside them. He was helpless in the web of her spell. She was magic, beauty, fascination.

Her laughter was bubbling up again, her fists curling in his shirt. “We have company, lifemate. I presume you sent for him.”

“You and your ideas,” he growled, gliding across the spongy surface to the boat.

The captain of the vessel didn’t appear to notice that Gregori’s feet never quite touched the swamp. His eyes were on Savannah in genuine awe. “You’re the magician, Savannah Dubrinsky. I’ve been to three of your shows. I flew all the way to New York City to see you last year, Denver a few months ago, and San Francisco this month. I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“What a compliment.” Savannah flashed her famous smile, the one that brought those curious silver stars to the centers of her eyes. “You traveled all that way just to see me? I’m flattered.”

“How do you do that? Disappear like you do into mist? I got as close to the stage as I could, and I still couldn’t figure it out,” he said, leaning forward, extending his hand. “I’m Beau LaRue. I was born and raised right here in the bayou. It’s a privilege to meet you, Ms. Dubrinsky.”

Savannah slipped her hand into the captain’s, a brief touch only as Gregori put her feet firmly on the boat’s floor. He was already pulling her back into his arms as he did so, successfully removing her from the captain’s grip. “I am Gregori,” he said in his soft, gentle way, the voice that enthralled, that captivated. The one that purred with menace. “I am Savannah’s husband.”

Beau LaRue had met only one other man as dangerous as this in his lifetime. By coincidence it had also been at night in the bayou. Power and danger clung to Gregori like a second skin. His unusual pale eyes were mesmerizing, his voice hypnotic. Beau smiled. He had spent most of his life in these waters, had encountered everything from alligators to smugglers. Life was always good in the bayou, unpredictable and exhilarating.

“You picked an interesting night for your tour,” he said happily. The actual storm had passed, but the mood of the water was dangerous tonight. On the banks around them, the alligators, usually so calm and quiet, sunning them selves in the light of day, were bellowing in challenge or sliding silently into the waters to hunt prey.

Gregori’s white teeth flashed in answer. He was part of the night, the creatures known to him, the restless, untamed land matching his hungry soul. Beau watched him, observing the utter stillness marking the dangerous predator, the merciless eyes moving constantly, missing nothing. The powerful, well-muscled body was deceptively relaxed but ready for anything. The face, harshly sensual, beautifully cruel, was etched with hardship and knowledge, risk and peril. Gregori stayed in the shadows, but the silver menace of his gaze glowed with a strange iridescent light in the dark of the night Beau took the opportunity to study Savannah. She was everything up close that she had been on the stage, even more. Ethereal, mysterious, sexy. The very stuff of men’s fantasies. Her face was flawless, lit up with joy, her eyes clear, like beautiful blue star sapphires. Her laughter was musical and infectious. She was small and innocent beside the predator in his boat. She would touch Gregori’s arm, point to something on the embankment, her body brushing his lightly, and each time it happened, those pale eyes would warm to molten mercury and caress her face intimately, hungrily.

Beau began to answer her questions, explaining all about his youth, his father trapping for food and fur, how he and his brother collected moss from the trees for his mother and sisters to dry and stuff in their mattresses. He found himself telling her all kinds of childhood memories, things he didn’t know he’d even remembered. She hung on his every word, making him feel as though he was the only man on the planet—until Gregori stirred, a mere suggestion of rippling muscle but enough to remind Beau that she was well protected.

He took them to all his favorite spots, to the most beautiful, exotic places he knew. Gregori asked questions then, about herbs and natural healing arts on the bayou.

Beau found the voice impossible to resist, like velvet, a black-magic power he could listen to forever.

“I heard a few men in a restaurant talking about a bayou legend,” Savannah said suddenly. She leaned on the side of the boat, presenting him with an intriguing view of her tight jeans. They clung lovingly to every curve.