“I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Let’s hurry.” He picked up the pace, and I followed.

  We didn’t get far before ephemeral blue forms drifted out of the hedges. They looked like people, except for the fact that they were semi-transparent, and an aura of misery hovered around them.

  Phantoms.

  Ice filled my soul. Phantoms were possibly the worst of all supernatural creatures. Not quite ghosts but not quite humans, they hovered in cursed spots, looking for humans to torment. Their touch brought back memories of your worst fears and greatest failures. For some people, it was so bad that insanity followed.

  “Shit.” Drakon reached back and tugged me along. “Hurry. They won’t be able to follow.”

  That was the only good thing about phantoms: they were generally trapped in one spot, unable to pursue you once you left their territory.

  As we passed, they reached out with pale blue hands, their fingertips grasping. Unnatural pain shot through me, hot and cold all at once. Every miserable thing that had ever happened to me flashed through my mind, making my throat tighten and my eyes prick with tears. But then the oddest thing occurred: something that I didn’t remember flashed into my mind.

  A dark room with a cold floor. Howling wind outside. And the most horrible, gnawing loneliness inside my soul. A sense of betrayal so thick I couldn’t fight my way past it.

  I’d never lived that memory. Somehow, though, it filled my mind and dragged me into such a deep despair that movement became nearly impossible. I gasped and staggered forward, my steps so small and shaky that I barely made any ground.

  All I could see was the phantoms, their shimmery forms surrounding me on both sides, reaching out with clawed hands that tore at my soul

  Then he appeared.

  Drakon.

  He wrapped an arm around my waist and dragged me forward. His steps weren’t much quicker than my own, and his skin felt cold as ice when his hand brushed mine.

  I looked up at him, trying to focus on him instead of the terrible memories. His eyes were sunken with dark pain, and his jaw was tight. He looked like a tortured warrior staring down the shadows of his memory.

  What was he reliving?

  Finally, we staggered out of their reach and turned the corner. The horrid cold faded, as did with the memory that didn’t feel like my own. Drakon released me, and I staggered away, propping my hands on my knees and gasping. My vision was blurry, and I could barely get my breath. The feeling made panic rise inside me.

  A tiny black and white form darted out from the bush and pressed a paw to my leg. Warmth flowed into me, but before my vision could clear, the creature disappeared.

  What the hell had that been about?

  And those phantoms…

  It had made no sense, and the memory drove away my curiosity over the little creature.

  “The memories that the phantoms conjured...” I looked up at Drakon, still trying to catch my breath. “What were they? Were they yours?”

  He turned to me, his eyes cold. “Of course they were mine. Those were phantoms.”

  “I know they were phantoms. But the strongest memory they made me relive wasn’t my own.”

  “That’s not possible.” He turned from me, inspecting the intersection within which we stood. The green corridors split off in three directions, but I didn’t care which way we went. I was still obsessed with the phantoms.

  How had they made me relive something that wasn’t mine?

  Unless I didn’t remember…

  No. That wasn’t possible. I remembered all of my past—the big stuff, at least. A nice childhood with Mom and Dad out in the suburbs of London. Moving to Newcastle to tend bar, and then finding my way to Guild City. Plenty of adventures and hardship in between, but nothing like that room.

  “What did you remember?” I asked him, desperate to distract myself from the confusion ricocheting through my head.

  He turned back to me, incredulous. “You dare?”

  “Um…”

  “You gave me my worst memories.”

  Of course—buried alive. I grimaced. No wonder he’d looked like a warrior facing down the nightmares of his worst battle.

  “It wasn’t me,” I insisted, but my words were weak. I’d already tried telling him that, and he hadn’t believed me.

  Worse, I was starting to not believe me.

  Drakon said nothing and turned, choosing the path that led to the left. We saw no one else in the maze, and by the time a blast of blue sparks filled the air overhead, I was ready to be out of there.

  “It’s over,” Drakon said.

  “Thank fates.”

  He arched a brow. “We didn’t find what we came for.”

  “We will.” I had no idea if that was true, but it didn’t matter. I was surviving minute by minute here, buying time for Eve to make the potion that would force Drakon to forget me. If that’s what I needed to say to get to the next part of this, I would.

  A moment later, a glowing portal appeared, and Valerie stepped out. The master of ceremonies smiled and gestured to the portal. “If you will.”

  Drakon nodded and stepped through. I followed, letting the ether suck me in and spin me through space, then deposit me in the garden where we’d had our breakfast. The other contestants stood nearby, along with the current members of the society.

  Laid in front of us were two bodies, both beaten and broken.

  Horror flashed, and my stomach pitched as I stared at them: Sebastian Waverly and another man that I recognized from dinner. They must have died in the maze.

  Valerie strode around them. “As you can see, not everyone survived the challenge. Two were culled by present members.” She nudged Sebastian with her toe, and the disdain in her voice was repellent. “Not worthy.”

  Drakon leaned close and murmured near my ear. “Still believe he had an in with the current members?”

  Shit.

  I had said that, hadn’t I?

  “He could have been betrayed,” I whispered back, wishing I’d picked a different person to lie about.

  “Hmm.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  He totally didn’t believe me.

  10

  Drakon

  * * *

  That evening, after a brief respite to freshen up, we met on the deck of a boat that had pulled up to the base of the cliffs under the house. I disliked the idea of spending the evening on the boat—Dorian wouldn’t be held captive here. Perhaps, I mused, I could sneak away. This would be the perfect opportunity to search the house.

  But then I saw Mac.

  She’d agreed to meet me on the deck, and she’d just climbed on board. The sun set behind her, lighting her hair in brilliant golden tones. The sight of her shocked the breath from me.

  Fates, she was beautiful. Just looking at her felt like a god was squeezing my heart in their fist. The memory of her from earlier today crept into my mind. She’d been spectacular, a whirlwind with her blade as she’d sliced down the vines. I’d never seen anyone move quite like she had, and it had shocked the hell out of me.

  And my reaction…

  I couldn’t stop thinking of her.

  True, I hadn’t stopped thinking of her since the moment she’d locked me in the tomb, but these thoughts weren’t quite as murderous. In fact, I felt ill whenever I thought of killing her.

  It was the damned Bride bond.

  For so long I’d felt nothing except the simplest of things. Pleasure at a willing victim when I was hungry, annoyance when a plan didn’t go accordingly. But now that I was around her…

  Frustration seethed through me. I couldn’t afford a weakness like this—not as long as the Bride Prophecy haunted me. With her, there were only two fates that awaited me: becoming entombed in granite if she lived and I couldn’t be with her, or choosing her and losing my immortality. Neither was acceptable.

  I rubbed my chest and turned away to look out over the sea. During the time that I’d been staring at Mac, the vessel had pulled away from the small dock. It powered out onto the calm water, which blazed brilliant orange from the sunset. Sea air whipped past me, and I sought out the bar, retrieving a double whiskey and turning back to the crowd.

  The yacht was large enough to accommodate the roughly thirty people aboard—ten society members, ten still-living prospective members, and a large contingent of staff carrying trays of champagne and canapés. The crowd was dressed in their finest eveningwear, but Mac made the rest look like ridiculous peacocks. Her sleek black dress highlighted the red rose tattoo on her shoulder. I hadn’t seen it when I’d first met her, and the sight of it riveted me now.

  The breeze picked up, and the scent of her skin rolled toward me. I tilted my head back and inhaled, unable to help myself.

  Ambrosia.

  She was perfection.

  Fates.

  My head snapped up, and I tossed back the whiskey. What the hell was I thinking? I knew what I had to do when it came to her, and thoughts like this weren’t going to get me there.

  Instead of focusing on her, I looked at the crowd. One of these people had kidnapped Dorian, mostly as a trap to lure me. But why? I still didn’t know, and curiosity ate at me.

  We hadn’t made it far in our hunt, and I was beginning to doubt the information that Mac was giving me. She wasn’t being entirely honest.

  But then, neither was I.

  She stood on the far side of the boat, speaking to a slender, dark-haired man that I hadn’t met, but I could already tell he wasn’t the one.

  When I felt the surge of magical power, I stiffened.

  That was interesting.

  I turned, spotting a door leading into the interior of the yacht. An older man emerged, his suit impeccably tailored and his white hair trimmed with military precision. From the strength of his magical signature, he was clearly the most powerful person here—besides myself, of course.

  This was the person we needed to talk to. I searched for Mac and found that she’d moved on and was speaking with another woman. Catching her gaze, I nodded toward the white-haired man. Her gaze drifted toward him, and understanding gleamed in her eyes. She said her goodbyes to the woman and met me in the middle of the deck. A waiter passed, and she snagged a champagne flute off the tray and raised a brow at me. “Interested in the silver fox?”

  “Silver fox?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re ancient.”

  “I am.”

  “It means he’s hot, for an older bloke.”

  The faintest tinge of jealousy fizzed at my nerve endings, and I stiffened.

  What the hell? That wasn’t like me. I was never jealous, and certainly not of an old man.

  Fates, I was losing control of my thoughts due to Mac. Just the idea sent a shiver down my spine.

  “We need to see what he knows,” I said. “He’s the most powerful one here by far. And I’ve no idea why we haven’t seen him until now.”

  “He’s got to be the big dog.”

  I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Together, we strode toward the man. I could feel the stares of some of the crowd on us as we passed, and I wondered which of us they were interested in. Mac, for her beauty? Or me, for my power?

  Likely both.

  The man turned as we approached, his jet-black eyes gleaming with interest. He clutched a crystal glass of amber liquor and wore his suit like it had been made specifically for him. I was sure it had. His brows rose as his gaze moved over Mac and me, and when he spoke, his voice vibrated with subtle power. “Drakon of Dracul. I was delighted to hear that you would be joining us. A man of your skill would be quite the asset to the organization.”

  “I expect the organization would be an asset to me.” I nodded to Mac. “This is my companion, Macbe—”

  “Mac.” She smiled brilliantly as she cut me off, sticking out her hand to shake his. “My friends call me Mac.”

  Of course she didn’t want this man to know her full name. Clever. But the warmth in her gaze made the familiar spurt of jealousy rise again, bringing with it increased annoyance at myself. It was a ridiculous emotion, and the idea that I’d felt it twice within an hour was pure insanity.

  Mac and the man shook hands, and the faintest gleam of concentration entered her eyes. No doubt she was using her magic to try to get a feel for her opponent. I hoped it worked because it was possible we’d just met the one responsible for Dorian’s disappearance.

  When they broke contact, the man regarded her with interest. Too much interest, and it wasn’t my jealousy talking. This wasn’t physical—he hadn’t looked past her eyes. No, it was something else.

  But what?

  “I am Ludovic Arnaud.” He inclined his head. “Tell me, Mac, where are you from?”

  “London.”

  “Hmm. And your family?”

  I watched him keenly, searching for the source of his curiosity. Where did it come from?

  “The same,” Mac said.

  “It’s just that there is something so familiar about you,” Ludovic said. “I’ve never met you, and therefore I assume it is your parents I have encountered before.”

  Mac stiffened so slightly that I almost didn’t notice it. She definitely did not like this line of questioning.

  “You wouldn’t know them,” she said. “Just ordinary people. Not the type to mingle with this crowd.”

  “Hmm.” Ludovic turned to me, something cunning in his gaze. “Your Bride is cagey.”

  “Oh, we’re not married,” Mac interjected.

  Ludovic looked at her, his smile widening “Not that kind of Bride, dear.”

  “But—”

  “I see someone I must speak to.” Ludovic turned and left.

  I swore I could see the satisfaction radiating around him. How the hell had he known what she was to me? And what game was he playing?

  “What was that about?” Mac demanded.

  My gaze snagged hers, finding curiosity and annoyance in her eyes. “You know very well what he’s talking about,” I said. “Did you get anything off him?”

  She scowled. “Don’t try to change the subject. And of course I don’t know what he’s talking about. What the hell is this Bride business?”

  I frowned. She really seemed to believe what she was saying, but how could she not remember?

  “Is it like a fated mates thing?” The dread in her voice dealt a blow to my ego, but annoyance followed it.

  “Stop playing dumb.”

  “I’m not,” she hissed, fire in her eyes. “Tell me what the hell this is about.”

  She looked like she was going to chuck the last of her wine at me. Her behavior was inexplicable.

  Unless…

  She really didn't remember.

  No, not possible. She’d known who I was five years ago.

  But her irritation was rising, and Mac was the type to blow things up when she got angry.

  Fortunately, the boat was nearly back to the dock. “We’ll finish this conversation on shore,” I said.

  “We’ll finish it here.” She poked me hard in the stomach. “I swear to fate, I will use your balls for bowling if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

  I raised my brows. “That’s quite the threat.”

  “It is. And trust me, you don’t want me to deliver.”

  “I’m sure you’d enjoy it.”

  “Oh, I would.”

  I nodded toward the land. “We’re nearly there. Let’s finish this privately. People are watching.”

  Her eyes flickered left and right, and she pinched her lips together. “Fine. We’ll wait, but only because we’re surrounded by a group of freaking sociopath murderers.”

  She wasn’t wrong about that. This crowd was dangerous.

  I could feel her gaze drilling holes into me as the boat pulled alongside the dock. We were the first off, and I strode quickly across the lawn. Dark had fallen, and the moon provided enough light to illuminate the path.

  Mac marched alongside me like a warrior heading into battle. Hell, she was a warrior heading into battle. Last time I’d met her, I’d ended up on the wrong side of her warrior instincts.

  As we walked, I noticed her tug at the ends of her hair, a seemingly unconscious gesture that she didn’t seem to notice. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen her do it. Nerves, most like.

  We reached our rooms a few minutes later. I unlocked mine, and she pushed me aside as she charged in. When she reached the middle of the room, she whirled on me, her eyes gleaming with deadly fire, but her voice was cold as ice when she spoke. “So? What the hell is this Bride thing?”

  “You know what it is.”

  “I don’t. But I can guess. A Bride has to be some creepy vampire version of fated mates, right?” She pursed her lips and nodded, clearly satisfied that she’d answered the question for herself. “You’re the First, so it must be some fancy version of that.”

  I just grunted.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She began to pace, then stopped and looked at me. “Maybe you’ve got the wrong girl. You think I killed you, but I didn’t. You’re wrong about me being your Bride, too. Clearly, I’ve got an evil twin out there that you need to be searching for.”

  “I wish that were the case.” Even as the words left my lips, I knew they were a lie. I hated her, and yet, I wouldn’t want any other.

  She scoffed and spun around to stare into the dead hearth. “Tell me more about this burying alive in a tomb thing.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I want to prove it wasn’t me.”

  “It was.” If she was going to keep playing this stupid game, I needed a drink. The bar cart underneath the window called to me, and I strode over to pour myself a whiskey.

  The liquid burned pleasurably as I tossed it back. Normally, I sipped such things, but Mac made that kind of restraint impossible. When I lowered the glass, I met her gaze over the rim. “Care for one?”

  She nodded shortly. “Wine cooler.”

  I arched a brow. “It’s not the 1980s.”

  She shrugged. “I like what I like.”

  I turned back to the cart and checked the tiny cabinet beneath it. No wine coolers, as expected, and I glanced at her over my shoulder. “No luck.”

 

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