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  Linking powers required her unquestioned trust.

  Right now, she couldn’t offer trust so easily to these two. Not after a Belador’s telepathic call for help had lured her into the hands of Medb warlocks.

  “I hope you can take on four warlocks alone, because that’s what’s coming for you … right now.”

  The warning in Quinn’s voice spiked chill bumps along her arms.

  “Link with us, Evalle. Now!” Tzader’s tone brooked no argument or questions.

  She had seconds to make up her mind. Tzader and Quinn couldn’t link unless she lowered her mental shields. “How do I know you aren’t lying just to trick me into linking?”

  “You don’t.” Quinn shrugged. “Just like I don’t know what I’m in for when I link with an Alterant, but I’m willing to trust you for a chance to escape.”

  The wall to her left started fading again, wider this time, as though to accommodate more people.

  Grace be to Macha, it was time to decide if she’d live or die.

  As the cave wall disintegrated under Medb majik, Evalle realized she had to answer only one question. Could she let even one Belador die after vowing to protect her tribe?

  The answer was an unfortunate one for her….

  This title is also available as an eBook

  Also by Sherrilyn Kenyon and Dianna Love

  Silent Truth

  Whispered Lies

  Phantom in the Night

  The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed.” Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book.”

  Pocket Books

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents

  either are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead,

  is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2010 by Sherrilyn Kenyon and Dianna Love

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  First Pocket Books paperback edition November 2010

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  ISBN 978-1-4391-5582-0

  ISBN 978-1-4391-9525-3 (ebook)

  We’d like to dedicate this book to

  our mothers, who both left too soon and

  will forever live in our hearts.

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  FROM SHERRILYN

  Thank you to my friends, family, and fans. I love you all and couldn’t do this without you. You guys rock!

  FROM DIANNA

  A big thank-you to Sherrilyn for wanting to team up on a new series. I’m thrilled. Who wouldn’t be ecstatic over the opportunity to collaborate with a paranormal romance publishing legend? I can never thank my amazing husband, Karl, enough for his constant support, and ensuring my world is stable and filled with love so that I can create. Author Mary Buckham helped as an early reader and in wild brainstorming moments, sometimes with a glass of wine involved. Cassondra Murray is the best assistant anyone could ask for, but having the benefit of her sharp eyes and understanding of story—for she is a talented writer as well—is priceless. Plus, her husband, Steve Doyle, is always ready to offer his former Special Forces expertise when needed. I also want to thank Barbara Vey for spending that impromptu day in Atlanta with me researching locations, and for what her informative and positive Beyond Her Book blog brings to the publishing industry. Thank you, as well, to Kim Newman, who once again shared her knowledge of the Spanish language and on short notice. I love hearing from fans and book clubs at [email protected].

  FROM BOTH OF US

  We’d like to thank the entire Pocket team, with a special thanks to our terrific editor, Lauren McKenna, and outstanding publisher, Louise Burke. Everyone, from the marketing department to the art department to the copy editing department, worked hard to give us a wonderful presentation for our first Belador story. We’d also like to thank our amazing agent, Robert Gottlieb, who directed this project from the beginning and continues to show why he is an icon in our industry. Thanks also to the RBLs for always bringing joy like fairy dust when we see them.

  Last, but never least, we want to thank you, the fans, for reading and coming out to share time with us when we tour. You are the reason we write.

  TWO YEARS AGO

  UTAH … BENEATH THE SALT FLATS

  Uphold my vows and die.

  Or break my vows and die?

  Evalle Kincaid had faced death more than once in the past five years, but never with these odds. If she had a one percent chance, it would be a miracle.

  A citric odor burned her lungs, confirming that Medb majik shrouded the rock walls, high ceiling and dirt floor of her underground prison. It was the stench of her worst enemies.

  She still couldn’t believe that one of her own, a Belador, had betrayed her.

  Not just her.

  Anger over the betrayal and being tricked into falling for this chewed at her insides. But she pushed it down, knowing it wouldn’t do anything except weaken her more. And right now, she needed her full sense and bearings.

  Peeking carefully from beneath lowered eyelashes so that no one would know she was awake, she took in the other two captives—male Beladors—also held upright by invisible constraints.

  A human would be blind in this black hol
e, but her vision thrived on total darkness. Natural night vision that allowed her to see in a range of monochromatic blue-grays. One rare perk of being an Alterant, a half-breed Belador, unlike those two pure bloods with their backs against the glistening red-orange stone wall.

  Did those men know each other?

  Did she really care? They were either allies or enemies. And until she knew more about them, they were definitely enemies.

  Similar in height and size, they were different as night and day in skin color and the way they dressed. The one with nothing on but jeans had been conscious when she’d regained her wits twenty minutes ago. Completely still, he hadn’t made a sound since then—like a snake lying low until it saw an opportunity to strike. Arms outstretched and legs spread apart, his gaze now cut sideways at a rustle of movement.

  The fair-haired guy on his left struggled to reach lucidity.

  Being imprisoned with two Beladors would normally fill her with hope for escape because of their ability to link with each other and combine their powers. When that happened, Beladors fighting together were a force only the upper echelon of preternatural creatures could touch. They were damn near invincible.

  But linking required unquestioned trust. And right now, she couldn’t offer trust so easily. Not after a Belador’s telepathic call for help had lured her into this hole—into the hands of Medb warlocks. Her tribe had fought this bunch for two thousand years.

  Burn me once, shame on you. Burn me twice …

  Die with pain.

  Even so, could she refuse to help these two warriors—members of her tribe—if there was a chance to save them? Beladors were a secret race of Celtic people connected by powerful genetics and living in all parts of the world. She’d only met a few.

  Never these two.

  But every member of the tribe had sworn an oath to uphold a code of honor, to protect the innocent and any other Belador who needed help.

  If a warrior broke that vow, every family member faced the same penalty as the warrior, even the penalty of death.

  Evalle had no one who would be affected by her decisions. The only person she’d had was an aunt who’d died that Evalle didn’t mourn. Not after what that woman had done to her.

  But even without having someone to worry about she’d upheld her vows since the day she’d turned eighteen. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. And—until now—she’d always supported her tribe without question.

  If only she knew which side of the lake those two across from her swam on. Hers or the Medb’s?

  She had one chance to answer that question correctly.

  Live or die …

  What else was new?

  “Anyone know who called for this delightful little meeting?” the fair-haired male grumbled in a smooth voice born of enhanced genetics and a hint of British influence. The sound matched the urbane angles of his European face, which could be Slovak or Russian. He straightened his shoulders as if that would smooth the creases in his overpriced suit, obviously tailored to fit that athletically cut body that James Bond would envy. She’d put him in his early thirties and at close to six foot three.

  Bad, black and wicked next to him might be an inch shorter, but he balanced out the difference with a pound or two of extra kick-your-ass muscle.

  “Introductions appear necessary … unless you two know each other.” The blond guy looked in her direction, then at the other male, but she doubted he could see a thing in this blackness.

  Then again, who knew what powers he had as a Belador? That thought sent another chill down her spine.

  Evalle fought a smirk over pretty boy’s dry tone and well-honed nonchalance. She’d never met a Belador male who wasn’t alpha to the core. But she had no intention of jumping in first to answer after deceit had landed her here.

  One of these two could very easily be a Medb surveillance plant.

  Tonight’s betrayal had put a serious damper on her “team” mentality, and it burned raw inside her.

  “I suppose I shall have to open,” pretty boy continued, undeterred by the rude silence. “I’m Quinn.”

  The other prisoner still hadn’t twitched since being hauled into the cave by four Medb warlocks and slammed against the wall. He’d been the last one captured. Blood that had trickled earlier from gashes in his exposed chest had dried … and the gashes were gone. Rumors had surfaced that a few of the more powerful Belador warriors could self-heal some wounds overnight, but she’d never heard of one healing so quickly. Odd.

  His head was completely bald, which added a lethal edge to his face. Ripped muscles curved along his arms. All that body flowed down to the narrow waist of his jeans. He cleared his throat, and even that sounded dangerous. “I’m Tzader.”

  “The Maistir?” Quinn’s gaze walked up and down the other warrior, sizing him up.

  “Yes.”

  Truth or lie? Evalle had never met Tzader Burke, commander of all the North American Beladors. If he was Maistir, that might explain why he was here. He would be a coup in any Medb’s career.

  She slashed a look at the self-appointed cave host, waiting on Quinn to make the next move.

  He shifted his head in Evalle’s direction. “I can see another faint aura glowing across from us. A woman, I presume from the look of it.”

  How come other Beladors could see auras, but not her? What had she done to tick off the aura fairy?

  When she didn’t pick up the conversation thread, Quinn asked, “You would be?”

  “Pissed off.” Evalle opened her eyes all the way.

  He smirked. “Love the name, darling. Should I refer to you as simply Pissed?”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “No offense, I’m going to need a little more information before I’m ready to buddy up to anyone. Especially two who could be lying to me.”

  First again to keep the ball rolling, Quinn nodded. “I had assumed only Beladors answered the call, but your aura is—”

  “—not Belador,” Tzader interjected.

  Quinn’s moment of hesitation spoke louder than his words. “I see.”

  Snubbed again. What else was new? Even though she’d heard the traitor’s call for help telepathically just like this pair of full bloods had and felt the sizzle of their tribe’s connection on her skin, they still didn’t consider her one of them.

  Raw fury roiled through her veins. What would she have to do to be considered one of the group? Too bad their hazing wasn’t as simple as eating a few live goldfish. But then, why was she surprised or even hurt? Her own family had wanted nothing to do with her. Why should anyone else?

  Still, she refused to be discounted so easily. “You two may be able to see auras, but I doubt that either of you see anything else in this pitch dark. Not like I can.”

  “That explains it.” There was no missing the disgust in Tzader’s tone.

  “What precisely does that explain?” Quinn allowed his annoyance to come through that time. Not the happy cave host after all.

  “She’s an Alterant.” Tzader stared her way, studying on something. “The only one not in VIPER protective custody.”

  Evalle released a sharp stream of air from between clenched teeth. “Right. Protective custody sounds so much more civilized than being jailed, which is what really happened to the other four Alterants. I’m not there because I don’t deserve to be there and I refuse to live in a cage—just like you would if you were me. So deal with it.” She’d been there, done that and burned the T-shirt reminder, and it would take more than the entire Belador race to put her back in one.

  And she had no doubt how he’d vote if she shifted into a beast in front of him.

  Thumbs down. Hang the Alterant.

  Yeah, the pendulum was buried on the side of them being her enemies.

  Tzader frowned. “You work for VIPER?”

  VIPER—Vigilante International Protectors Elite Regiment—was a multinational coalition of all types of unusual beings and powerful entities created to protect the world fro
m supernatural predators. Beladors made up the majority of VIPER’s force, and if that really was Tzader Burke across from her, he’d know the only free Alterant worked with VIPER. Might as well cop to it. “I’m in the southwestern region.”

  Quinn cleared his throat. “I’m with VIPER as well and was on my way to investigate a Birrn demon sighting in Salt Lake City when I heard the call. What about you two?”

  “Meeting an informant in Wendover,” Tzader replied, mentioning the small gaming town at the Utah-Nevada border. “What were you doing in this area tonight, Alterant?”

  Following a lead I have no intention of sharing with you … dickhead.

  When she didn’t answer, Tzader chuckled in a humorless way that brushed a ripple of unease across her skin. “Listen, sweetheart. We might have another couple hours, or we might only have a couple minutes. The Medb don’t ransom. They trap, plunder minds, use bodies in hideous ways and toss the carcasses into a fire pit. I could reach Brina even this far below ground, but I can’t get through the spell coating these walls. So there’s not going to be a Belador cavalry charging in to save us. You either join up and help us find a way to escape, or prepare for the worst death you can imagine.”

  As if she didn’t know the stakes….

  And hadn’t already lived through a fate worse than death. They had no idea who and what they were dealing with.

  “I quite agree, love,” Quinn added. “I can understand your resistance to trusting anyone after being caught in this trap. I, too, want that traitorous Belador’s head as a hood ornament on my Bentley, but none of us will have any chance to discover his identity if we don’t survive, and that endangers all our people.”

  Evalle would give him that, but hanging here manacled to a rock wall by majik didn’t exactly instill a sense of camaraderie in her. More like, it brought back memories that made her seethe.

  She held the key to possibly overpowering the Medb—a physical ability to shift into a more powerful form that might afford the three of them the combined energy to fight their way out of here. But using that ability would expose the secret she’d shielded for five years and give the Tribunal, the ruling body of VIPER, all the reason they’d need to lock her up.