An amused laugh greeted Kalen’s terse words, and a dark figure stepped onto the porch from inside. Backlit in the cabin’s doorway, the man—or rather, the Unseelie disguised as a man—was very tall.

“Come inside, young Sorcerer,” Malik said, gesturing him forward. “Let’s have a nightcap to cure our insomnia.”

The other male turned and went inside. Wary, Kalen followed him. Just because the Unseelie exuded a false sense of normalcy didn’t mean Kalen was stupid. His years on the street had taught him that a friendly gesture always came with a catch.

And nothing about this creature was normal.

Mounting the porch steps, he trailed Malik into the cabin and took a surprised look around. Somehow he’d expected stark coldness and “evil” stamped on every surface. But the interior was the epitome of warm, rustic luxury. Dark leather furniture and plush throw rugs dotted the living space. A large stone fireplace graced most of the far wall, and an adjacent wall sported a walk-in wet bar.

“How civilized,” he commented drily as Malik rounded the bar.

“Isn’t it? And here you likely expected a dreary cave full of bats.” The Unseelie reached for an expensive-looking bottle of Cognac and then removed two crystal highball glasses from the shelf. Smiling faintly, he poured them each a couple of inches of the liquor and then brought them both into the living area. He handed Kalen a glass. “Please, sit.”

Kalen remained standing for a few beats longer, studying the creature who could pass for any human man. An exceptionally good-looking one. The form he’d taken as Evan Kerrigan was a few inches taller than Kalen’s six or so feet, and he was well muscled without being ripped. Black hair dusted his shoulders and framed an angular face set with midnight blue eyes and a strong jaw. It was no wonder the creature had managed to seduce everyone who’d crossed his path.

He appeared to be anything but a monster.

There was an innate sexuality that radiated from the male’s very pores. Although, despite the Unseelie’s seductive approach, Kalen could honestly say he knew Malik’s focus was not really directed at him in a sexual way—though he couldn’t say how he knew—the bold scrutiny in the other’s steady gaze unnerved him nonetheless.

“What are you so hot to show me?” Kalen asked, getting to the point.

“First I’d like to talk to you. Sit, please.” Malik took a seat in a large wingback chair near the fireplace, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. Casually sipping his Cognac, he presented the picture of cozy, urbane charm.

It couldn’t last.

Slowly, Kalen lowered himself to the sofa across from the Unseelie and sniffed at the liquor. Reaching out with his magic, he could discern no spell placed on the drink. He took a sip and found it to be safe. But he knew better than to relax.

“This is good stuff,” he said.

“Only the best for you.”

“You sound as though you mean that.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve waited for this moment for what seems like ages.” Those piercing eyes bored into his.

Kalen shifted uneasily. “The way you said that . . . it’s almost as if you know me.”

“As well as I know myself,” the Unseelie replied softly.

Something about that statement, Malik’s tone, made every hair on his body stand on end. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s as possible as the cabin you’re sitting in quite comfortably, where no cabin should be.”

“Is this how it’s going to be? You talking in riddles the whole time? I don’t know what the hell I thought coming here would accomplish.” Self-preservation raised its head. He started to rise, eager to get out of there, but Malik held out a hand.

“Hear me out. Don’t you want your questions answered?”

Yes, he did. Badly. He doubted prying them from the fucker would be as easy as that, but he sat again, reluctantly. “All right. Let’s start with why you want to hurt innocent people.”

Malik affected a solemn expression, like a doctor about to tell someone he had a terminal illness. “Innocence is more of an illusion than anything my magic could possibly create. The sole innocent creatures are newborns, and all are eventually lost to temptation. There are no exceptions to this rule.”

“You’re wrong. My mother was innocent,” he refuted tightly.

A flash of anger lit the Unseelie’s eyes, then was quickly masked. “No. Your mother was weak. She did not protect you from the worm you called ‘Father.’”

He sucked in a breath. “How do you know that?”

“She feared for herself more than she cared to protect her child, and that makes her among the most loathsome of her kind. I saw how she cowered while he beat you senseless, time after time. I saw how she ultimately handed your fate to David Black, allowed him to toss you into the street like a sack of refuse.”

“And why the hell didn’t you intervene, if you cared so much?” He glared at the Unseelie.

“I had to wait. It wasn’t time.”

“Wait for what?”

“For you to take your rightful place as my apprentice. To rule at my side.”

“I was homeless, you fucker,” he hissed. “I had to turn tricks to survive. You couldn’t have contacted me a helluva lot sooner—like, say, when I was a scared teenager with not one person on earth to turn to?”

“I couldn’t get near you, boy,” Malik snapped, scowling. “The old woman made certain of that.”

“Grandma?” The Unseelie waited for him to put it together. “The amulet. She said it would protect me from harm, no matter how great the evil. Hold up. Did she mean you, specifically? Did you know my grandmother?”

Kalen moved to the edge of his seat, gripping the highball glass so hard his knuckles whitened. He tried to push down the panic beginning to seize his lungs. What the fuck did all this mean?

“Yes, I knew Ida. She was a thorn in my ass for many centuries.”

“Wait. What?” Kalen took a generous gulp of his Cognac, trying to get a hold on the conversation. “Centuries? You—you’re lying.”

“Hardly. Ida May Ventura was a four-hundred-twenty-three-year-old Seelie, and a very powerful one. Well, until her final days, anyway.”

Eyes wide, Kalen stared at Malik, speechless. For several long moments he could do nothing but process what the Unseelie was really, truly telling him. Shock held him immobile.

“Are you saying . . . that I’m Fae?”

“Down to your last drop of blood. Sorcerers are not mere humans imbued with the gift of simple witchcraft.”

“Oh, God.” Mind spinning, he tried to assimilate this revelation.

“You’re a rare breed. Very few Fae are powerful enough to become Sorcerers,” Malik said, a slight smile playing about his lips. “Even I am not a Sorcerer.”

“That’s why you want me and why my power is valuable to you.”

“I won’t deny that as two Fae—a king and his second in command—we’ll be unstoppable together and that I can accomplish my goals much more quickly with you than not. But that’s not the only reason I desire your presence.”

“Why else, then?”

Malik shook his head. “You’re not ready to hear it yet. Soon.”

Okay, that missing piece of the puzzle would have to wait. Trying another tack, he asked, “How did you know my grandmother? What’s your connection to my family?”

“The Fae are not a vast people numbering in the millions,” he replied smoothly. “We had met.”

“Yeah, but you said Grandma was Seelie. You’re Unseelie. I seriously doubt she ran in your circles.”

“True. However, we had crossed paths all the same, arguing on opposite sides of issues before our royal courts.”

“All right. I’ll buy that for now. So why did she live her life posing as a human?” That she hadn’t entrusted him with her biggest secret cut deep. It hurt badly. He realized his mistake when Malik immediately used that emotion to his advantage.