“I love a good lie, but this beats a fib by far.” Druan moved closer. “I couldn’t let your brothers get away with killing my sorcerer and ruining my virus. Your mother was quite distraught when I finished.”

Faelan yanked at the chains until his right shoulder began to dislocate. He saw Druan’s satisfaction and stopped.

“If you think it’s a lie, then take a look.” Druan slapped his scarred hand on Faelan’s forehead. He tried to jerk away, but the chains binding his wrists held fast. An image formed, his mother, her body draped over a coffin covered with flowers, her frail shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She looked so small. A low wail pulled from inside her hunched body, and she called a name. Ian. It was his brother’s funeral. There was a young woman, heavily pregnant, and a wee lad barely old enough to walk, clutching at her skirt. The lad’s lip quivered as he let go of his mother and touched a tiny hand to the wood coffin. Ian’s wife… and son?

Druan pulled his hand away, and Faelan’s head fell forward. His surroundings swam into focus, and he saw the demon’s twisted gloat.

“Ian was magnificent. Crying out for his wife and son as he died, a week before she bore him twins.”

Faelan’s blood raged, pumping anger and pain with each surge, like a nail driven inch by inch until it could go no more. “Don’t speak their names,” Faelan roared. “You’re not to speak their names!” He twisted and pulled. If he could reach his talisman. He yanked the chains, and his shoulder popped.

A fist smashed into his face, slamming his head into the wall.

“When you wake, we’ll talk about Bree,” Druan taunted as everything went black.

***

Bree heard a soft noise like the wind. Something brushed her face. She opened her eyes, and a shadow disappeared into the high ceiling above her. Her head ached, and she felt like she’d cleaned the carpet with her tongue. She was in a bed. A huge bed. Jared’s? After she’d told him everything, he insisted on bringing her to his house. Why didn’t she remember getting here? The pills he’d given her for her headache must have been too strong, or she had a serious case of jet lag.

Bree sat up and looked around the room. It was too dark for details, but the bed was king-size, the covers a rich brocade—not what she would’ve expected of Jared. What disturbed her more was the imprint of a head on the pillow next to hers. Had they slept in the same bed? She couldn’t remember anything, other than a dream of Faelan curled at her back. Bree peeked under the covers. She was still dressed, not that she thought Jared would take advantage of her.

She got out of bed and tripped over her shoes. She had to find a phone. She’d slept away precious time. Her tote bag was in a chair that looked like it was made for a king. She slipped on her shoes and checked her watch. Five a.m. They’d left her house around ten last night. She had to find Jared and get out of here. Russell could have followed them. Bree went to the door, turned the knob, and registered three things. A gargoyle, voices, and stone. Everywhere she looked there was stone. She wasn’t at Jared’s.

She was in Druan’s castle.

Where was Jared? She eased back, heart thudding with dread, and peeked through the cracked door. Two men stood talking farther down the hall, except they didn’t look like men. They were tall and thick, with skin like leather. Like orcs. Long daggers were sheathed at their sides and swords hung across their backs.

“I’ll guard her,” the first demon said. “You go to the dungeon and check on the warrior. If he escapes, it’ll be our hides.”

Warrior? Not Faelan. He couldn’t be here.

“You’re hoping Druan’ll give you a taste of her.”

“He’d kill anyone who touches her, and you know it.”

“It’s unnatural, how he watches her,” the second demon agreed. “I’ll go in a minute, after the sedative’s had more time to work. He almost broke my arm when we chained him to the wall.”

It had to be Faelan. Why was he here? It was too soon.

“What about the other one?”

“Probably dead. Throw him on the buzzard,” he said with a nasty laugh.

Bree’s chest constricted. Jared?

“You’d better hurry before he gets back.”

“Where is he?”

“In the tower hiding the key.”

Druan had the disk. There were two prisoners in the dungeon, one almost dead. Faelan and Jared? Russell must have followed them. Why couldn’t she remember anything? Bree eased the door shut, locked it, and examined her prison. Of course there were no phones. She’d have to rescue Faelan and Jared herself. She went to the window and eased the heavy draperies back. The sky was still dark. The best she could figure, she was on the second floor in the middle of the castle. Too high to jump.

The secret passages. If she remembered correctly, they also led to the dungeon. The map should be in her tote, if Russell hadn’t taken it. She found the bag and located her tiny flashlight. Someone had gone through her things. Nothing was where it was supposed to be, except the map. Russell had missed the hidden side pocket.

Bree ran a shaky finger over the faint lines running along several interior walls. According to the map, there was an access in the adjoining room, with a hidden door near the fireplace. Using the mini flashlight she carried after she’d gotten trapped in the tower, she inspected the elaborate fireplace and found the left lion’s head on the mantel was loose. She pushed, and a secret door opened.

Stale air hit her in the face. With a death grip on her flashlight, Bree climbed inside. She had to get to the dungeon before Russell returned or the guards discovered her missing. Something slid across her foot, and she smothered a yelp. All this for a man who’d dumped her. No, not for a man. Bree was doing this for the world. She had to rescue the one who could save it. She’d worry about her heart later.

And she had to free Jared. He didn’t deserve this. One more turn, and she found narrow, curved steps that led to the first floor. Several times she heard muffled voices. Stepping softly, as she’d seen Faelan do, she came to a dead end. She searched the wall and found a notch. A section swung open and she saw steps leading down into a dark hole.

The dungeon.

Dank air coated her lungs as she crept down the stairs. Her flashlight cut a beam through the darkness. At the bottom, she stood still and listened. The lack of moaning was a relief, until she considered what the alternative could be. Moving quickly, she peered in the open doors and saw chains and torture instruments, but there was no sign of Faelan or Jared.

Deep in the dungeon, a dim light shone, no brighter than a night-light. Beyond it, she found two doors, both locked. On the wall between, she saw a glint of metal. She swung her flashlight. Two sets of keys. She grabbed them both and pointed her light at the lock. The first set worked. The lock clicked open. She pushed the heavy door, nerves crawling with every creak. Someone would surely hear.

The sight inside ripped all else from her mind. Faelan was half lying on a crude, stone surface, his hands chained so high on the wall his upper body dangled, his arm twisted awkwardly.

“Faelan?” She ran to him and pressed her ear to his heart. She heard the slow, steady thump. A ragged cry wrenched from inside her. “What are you doing here?” Holding the flashlight in her mouth, she ran her hands over him, checking for broken bones. His talisman was still under his shirt. Russell must not know its power. A huge lump marred one side of Faelan’s head, and his bottom lip was covered in blood where it had split. His cheek was discolored and raw.

Bree dropped a soft kiss on the side of his mouth and tugged in vain at the heavy chains. She tried the second key, but it took several tries to get the rusty lock open. She released his right wrist, gently lowering his arm onto his chest. His shoulder was dislocated. His head rolled to the side, the weight of his body digging the shackle deeper into the flesh of the wrist still trapped. She struggled to support his weight while she freed his left arm. He sagged against her, his shirt gapping open, his battle marks exposed. Tears trickled down her cheeks and dropped onto his chest as she held him.

God grant this warrior’s aim be true as his heart. Bend time and bring forward, his mate beside him, not apart. Bree whipped around, but she was alone. There was no time to figure out where the disembodied voice came from.

“Faelan, wake up. We’ve got to go.” Her efforts to pull him to a sitting position were useless. She wasn’t strong enough to move him. And she still had to find Jared. A noise sounded outside, and she stopped breathing. It came again, the brush of a shoe on stone. Someone was coming, and they didn’t want to be heard. She checked that Faelan was lying secure before moving toward the door. A pile of rags lay in the corner, a boot beside it.

Jared?

“I’ll come back for you, Jared. I promise.” She turned off the light, stuck her head out, and saw a shadow dart into another hallway. Carrying her shoes, she felt her way back toward the secret passage. Her fingers shook as she searched for the notch. The stone wall scraped open. She hurried inside and closed the entrance, agonizing over each lost second.

After a minute of quiet, she slid her finger into the notch. A light tap sounded from outside. Yanking her hand back, she listened to the soft searching sounds on the other side. Easing away, she turned and fled, taking the first turn she saw, and soon found herself lost in a maze of tunnels.

She checked her watch. Fifteen minutes had passed. Too long. Choosing a random direction, she ran into one dead end after another. She opened at least ten secret doors, expecting to be discovered, then she found a small, wooden doorway, surprising in a place made of stone. She eased it open and bumped into a huge tapestry. Pulling back the edge, she saw a room with several men—or creatures—seated at a table. They were discussing something in a language she couldn’t understand, but the emotion translated well. Excitement. She had to hurry. She stepped back and tiptoed the other way. One last turn, and she came to a wall that seemed familiar. She opened the door and stumbled onto the dungeon stairs, welcoming the musty air. Praying whoever was there had gone, she aimed her light and rushed toward the room where she’d left Faelan and Jared. She opened the heavy door. Empty chains dangled from the wall.