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He shook his head emphatically, yellow eyes darkening to a deep shade of amber. “Oh gods, no wonder you got so pissed when I told you about Da taking Dre on and me taking over the Shadowhounds.

You thought I was choosing them over you.”

My nails dug into my palms as memories of that last day swept through my mind. I’d tried too hard not to think about what happened, what he’d done and what I’d said. Tried and failed and kept right on failing for two hellishly long years. “How could I think otherwise? When you told me you were kissing off all our plans for the future to help your father protect Dre’s ignorant ass. . . You never even told me about Amaya, for gods’ sake.”

“Shit, Riss, I couldn’t. Dre made us submit to a loyalty spell that prevented us from going into details with anyone outside the family. But we planned all along to have a family member spying on Dre twenty-four/seven. We figured someday he’d drop his guard, and we could break Nessa’s case wide open.”

I threw my hands in the air when he reminded me of another thing that drove me insane. Men (like my father and brother) who thought they could wrap their “little women” up in lace, ribbons, and bubble wrap, when a Fury was about as likely to put up with that as to go to a Harpy slumber party. “Did you forget that it was my job to do that? My job to find the truth, to break the case, to spy on Andre Carrington day in and day out if need be.”

“You’re very good at your job, Riss. I’ve never doubted that. But not even you are completely infallible. He got to one Fury—or so we all thought; he could have gotten to you, too. Maybe better, since you were so consumed with bringing her killer to justice back then, you might have done something—”

My eyes narrowed. “Stupid?”

“No, never that. Reckless.”

“Well, it would have been my right to be reckless.”

“Yes, but don’t you see? I could have lost you just as easily as you lost Nessa. And I couldn’t bear that.

Couldn’t stand the thought of waking up one day and you not being there and me never knowing what happened to you or why. Just suspecting, day in and day out, and never being able to do anything. I wanted—no, I needed—to protect you.”

My breath hitched and my pulse picked up speed. “And why’s that, Scott?”

“Because I—I cared about you so damned much.”

“You cared about me, past tense,” I stated flatly. “Right now all you give a damn about is the Sisterhood’s money. Isn’t that the only reason you agreed to help me?”

He ground his teeth together for several seconds, a large vein in his forehead throbbing in visible anger.

“I’ll help you out of this shithole you’ve dug us both in for old times’ sake. And somebody with a shred of self-control has to make sure my sister gets rescued. But once she’s safe, we’re done. The past is the past.”

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more, puppy dog.” I was the one with no self-control? Who had been the one to shove his tongue down my throat? It took a few seconds for my words to penetrate his brain. By then, I was most of the way to his bedroom door.

“Have fun dreaming about what could have been with
my
assets, lover boy. ‘Cause that’s sure as hell the closest you’re ever going to get to them again!” His bedroom door made a satisfyingly loud thump as it s’ammed behind me. The only sweeter sounds were the muffled curse Scott ground out seconds later followed by the sound of the bathroom shower cranking on—for his sake, I hoped what they said about ice-cold showers was actually true.

DESPITE THE FACT THAT I’D BEEN AVERAG
ing only four hours of sleep a night lately, not to mention all the grief and emotional stress I’d gone through the day before, my internal clock woke me up before dawn the next morning. No use fighting it. Once my eyes opened, I was up for the day. I mumbled under my breath and shifted on the silken sheets, sighing at the way they caressed my skin ever so softly.

Scott’s sheets, and Scott’s bed. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sharp, masculine tang clinging to the fabric and considered rolling all around until that heavenly scent clung to me as well.

Not that I’d need to with all the Hounds and their superhuman powers of smell crawling all over the building. That thought led me back to the reason I was here, deep in the heart of Murphy territory. Nessa.

I only had to think her name for the Mandate to make itself felt. Pressure nudged at my head, threatening to burgeon to full-blown pain if I didn’t get my rear in gear.

Guilt crept into my heart, and I slipped out of the bed to focus on tracking down Vanessa and her captors. First things first, though—washing off Scott’s scent. In the living room, Scott sprawled uncomfortably across his sofa and I couldn’t hold back a smirk. His body was
way
too long for that thing, but after last night’s little spat, I didn’t feel particularly guilty. I
did
make the concession of padding quietly to the apartment’s single bathroom down the hall, doing my best not to wake him. Scott had always been pure night owl.

The marble tiles of the bathroom floor were cold against my feet. I cranked up the hot water in the shower, hopped in once the mirror above the sink started steaming, and closed my eyes. Scalding water beat against my back in a soothing staccato. I arched my back, sighing in pleasure. Nothing like a white-hot shower for a red-hot Fur—

The sound of the shower door banging open was the only warning. My airway cut off as someone wrapped a viselike grip around my neck. I snapped my eyes open but couldn’t see my attacker. They jerked me back against their body, increasing the pressure against my throat. Panic flared, but I fought it back, hands scrabbling at my attacker’s hands. The steely grip only tightened. My lungs burned with the need for air. Confusion set in. Why couldn’t I break my attacker’s grip? I should be stronger than whoever it was. And then the stink of sulfur hit my nostrils, and my heart sank.

No way I could take out a Harpy without being fully Fury. I used the last of my strength to shift into full Fury form. Nemesis and Nike burst into life. The moment they sensed our enemy, they struck. Her arms dropped as she grappled with the serpents seeking a weak spot. Not that there were many on her kind.

I spun, nearly slipping on the wet tiles, seeing my suspicions confirmed. The Harpy hissed, talons flashing as she swiped at Nemesis and Nike. Straggly, dirty white hair surrounded an ugly pale face straight from mortal nightmares. Her body was athletic but whipcord thin, birdlike, especially when coupled with the talons and her unfurled wings. No wonder the ancient Greeks had likened Harpies to bird-women.

She managed to get her hands around my serpents, shaking them in the air several times before throwing them against the hard tile walls of the shower. Eerie yellow-green eyes that mockingly echoed

‘a Fury’s pupil-less orbs lit in triumph, and she cackled.

That pissed me off. “Big mistake.”

I pounced, passing through the shower doorway and taking her to the floor. The impact jarred us both, but we brushed it off and wrestled for the upper position. We must have made enough noise to disturb Scott, because I heard him stirring in the other room.

Pain flared when the Harpy got a good swipe in. I winced as blood welled. No telling how much filth the bitch had under her talons. My momentary daze was enough for her to flip me onto my back and bash my head against the tiled floor. Stars flashed and I forgot all about the wound on my arm. She cracked my head again, and I screamed.

The bathroom door flung open, and a very naked Scott barreled inside. He took in the sight of the Harpy knocking me senseless. A concussion of magic beat the air. Scott’s mortal form slipped away, to be replaced by pure War-hound, Purely pissed-off Warhound.

Mottled gray fur bristled along his Hound’s body that now rivaled a small pony in size. His wolflike face bared wicked sharp canines that would rend as effectively as the Harpy’s talons—and he had a lot more of those than she did of hers. Glowing amber eyes met mine, and he nodded.

I kept my body plastered as closely to the floor as possible, and he leapt. He knocked the Harpy back into the shower stall. She shrieked, head smacking against the wall with even more force than she’d hit me with. Nemesis and Nike took advantage of the situation, striking her unprotected arms and legs as they flailed uselessly. Scott, not to be outdone, tore into her throat, making a bloody mess of flesh, gristle, and bone.

Magic concussed again, and Scott crouched over me in mortal form. In very naked, very appealing mortal form. I giggled.

He frowned. “You all right, Riss?” His hands probed my body for broken bones. When they neared my head, I winced, and he paused. “Just how hard did she crack your head?”

I giggled again, unable to help myself. “Pretty hard.” The laughter only increased the pain, but the whole situation struck me as incredibly funny. My laughter worried Scott. I could see that even through my chortles and chuckles. I wanted to tell him not to worry, but I couldn’t. Fiery warmth stabbed through my veins, spreading from my arm all along my body. Spreading from my
wounded
arm.

Fear, stirred but was drowned out by the laughter racking my body. Scott’s eyes zeroed in on the narrow cut on my arm, and he cursed. “Fucking poison.”

Now
that
wasn’t funny at all, but I laughed anyway. He reached into the shower, grabbing Nemesis and Nike, who tolerated his touch because they could sense something horribly wrong. He settled them against my skin, and they zoomed straight for the wound on my arm, then hissed in sudden fury.

Magical poison, then,
my remaining sane neurons diagnosed.

Magic stirred the air again as my girls began working, crippled by the fact that I was in no condition to aid them. They were much stronger acting as magical catalyst for me than on their own. Still, they had to try, or all three of us would soon be dead.

“Hang on. I’m gonna get Kiara.”

Scott ran into the bedroom, returning a moment later with his cell phone and barking orders into it. When finished, he dropped the phone and leaned down next to me. His fingers threaded through those on my unwounded arm. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. That warmed my heart for some reason.

Oh yeah. Means he does still care. Guess Mommie Dearest was right, then.

Laughter burbled past my lips, but much more weakly this time. The fiery warmth didn’t seem so warm anymore. Frozen numbness spread where heat had once stabbed. Nemesis and Nike hissed, sending magical energy pouring into me, counteracting the freezing pain just barely enough to keep me from going completely under. I didn’t think I could hold on much longer.

“You have to, baby. Don’t die on me, dammit!”

I’d spoken aloud without thinking again. That had a grin spreading across my lips, but no laughter escaped. Guess I’d laughed myself out. Now, all that was left was dying.

“Stupid bitch’ I managed to mumble.

“Now, now, there’s no call for that. I’m here to help.” Kiara’s voice drawled from the open doorway.

Despite the attempt at humor, I could hear her concern. That should have worried me, seeing as how she was still so pissed over what I’d done to. . . Hadn’t I done something bad to her brother?

My eyes fluttered, and I didn’t have the energy to open them again. A hand snapped against my cheeks, hard. A tiny surge of adrenaline flared, and I managed to blink open uncooperative eyes. They widened when I realized Scott had been the one to strike me. Not Kiara.

“B’sstrd,” I slurred.

Other voices stirred in the bedroom, signaling the arrival of more Murphys. Damned Murphys. Never there when you needed them, always in the way when you didn’t...

Oh fuck, Riss. You need them bad. You’re dying.

I scowled, not liking the sane part of my subconscious one little bit. Voices murmured above me, but they sounded distant and unintelligible. Nemesis and Nike, gods bless their little hearts, had done their best, but the slow freeze outdid their efforts to warm me. My eyes fluttered closed again. This time, I knew they wouldn’t reopen.

Hands brushed against my knee. I didn’t have the energy to wonder why. I was too damned busy dying.

But then white-hot agony stabbed, and it was more than enough to break through my lassitude. When my furious gaze turned onto my knee, I realized why blinding pain now flashed through my leg. They’d removed the magical bandage.

“Stupid bitch,” I mumbled again, this time drawing relieved grins from both Scott and his sister.

Kiara prodded at the wound on my arm, poking several foul-smelling powders and creams inside.

Agony burned through my veins, ripping straight through the freezing cold and bringing my blood to a boil. That, coupled with the lightning blazing through my knee, finally did me in. I sank into blissful darkness, no longer caring whether I lived or died...

SOMETHING SOFT TICKLED MY NOSE, ELICIT
ing a sneeze that rocked me from head to toe. I stirred but kept my eyes screwed tightly shut.
Just a little more sleep.
A large, warm body pressed against mine, and fur caressed my bare right arm.
Fur?
I drew a deep breath and smelled hound. Warhound.

My eyes snapped open and met a soulful, amber-eyed gaze. Scott, in Hound form. But why?

Images flooded my mind in quick succession. The Harpy slashing my arm with poisoned talons. Scott bursting into the room, shifting to the form he now inhabited and ripping out the Harpy’s throat. Dying on the cold marble floor, only to be brought back by the stubborn ministrations of Kiara and Scott.

He whined, breath snuffling against my face. Fortunately, Hound breath didn’t smell nearly as bad as that of normal doggies. I patted him absently, but my gaze sharpened when I realized the tiny wound that had nearly killed me had vanished without a trace. Furies healed surface wounds wicked fast naturally.

Complex internal injuries like my knee, not to mention magical poison, were another story entirely.

“Damn, Kiara’s potions rock. I’ve
got
to get her recipes.”