Skykeepers

himself. If only he’d grown up sooner, like Tomas had wanted him to do. Damn it all.

The winikin nodded. “Thanks. Go on, then. I’ll pull together some food for you and leave it by the path.” He paused and nodded toward the kitchen. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

Sasha, Strike, and Leah were chatting animatedly while wolfing down whatever Jox had put in front of them. Carlos and Sven were going strong on the shots. Nate and Alexis, Brandt and Patience had already decamped to their suites, no doubt to take advantage of the contact high from Sasha’s sex-

magic buzz. For a moment, Michael yearned. Because he did, and because the Other’s darkness stirred beneath the want, he turned away. “I’ll be outside.”

Tomas nodded. “Your call.” But his tone said, You’re an idiot.

When Sasha finally wound down enough that she thought she could sleep, she headed for her suite, feeling as if she were floating on feet that barely touched the floor.

Part of her euphoria came from the barely realized amazement of finding her family, finding that she was royalty—she thought that would become a reality over the next few days, not all at once.

Another part of the bubbling dizziness came from sheer exhaustion; she wasn’t just physically tired—

she was mentally drained, and felt like she’d been sucked dry of both thought and energy. She was dragged down by having seen what Ambrose had become, but energized by the promise that the scroll was somewhere inside the temple. And the magic that had come from Michael’s kiss hadn’t yet faded, though it had been hours.

Body tingling with the sensual awareness brought by sex magic, she jittered around her small apartment as the night deepened and the mansion quieted around her. She checked her herb family for their water status—all good—and straightened things in the kitchen and main room that didn’t need straightening. Her laptop failed to hold her attention, as did the paperbacks stacked beside the couch.

She thought about taking a shower, but it wasn’t until she vetoed the idea because it meant going through the bedroom that she admitted to herself what the problem really was.

She was horny. And not just a little. A lot.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t known what was going on out in the kitchen; she’d caught the looks, and the not- too-subtle jockeying for the mated pairs to get very near her, then slip away, bright-eyed and holding hands. She’d snorted inwardly when Carlos had waylaid Sven with a bottle, and suffered a pang when she saw Jade anesthe tizing herself similarly. The pretty brunette had silently toasted Sasha with her glass, and mouthed, Go get him, across the room, giving her blessing again, though Sasha had long known the coast was clear on that account.

No, the winikin and magi had conspired to make it easy for her and Michael to be together in the hormone burn of the aftermath. What they didn’t get, because they didn’t know, was that it wasn’t going to happen. Their exchange prior to the bloodline ceremony suggested that he wasn’t just pushing her away to be an ass. There was something going on with him, something dark and angry inside him that he didn’t want her to see. She didn’t know whether to give him the space he seemed so desperate for or talk to one of the other magi about it or what. But she knew one thing: She wasn’t signing on for anything long-term with a man who had both commitment and anger issues. She wasn’t Pim, damn it.

But what if it’s not long-term? she asked herself, moving restlessly around the space that was quickly becoming her home. What if it’s just for tonight?

He’d first kissed her to fuel his shield spell, and though he’d later apologized for how far it had gone, she knew the sex had given him a hell of a power boost. What if she went to him now, and asked him to return the favor?

On another day, under other circumstances, she never would’ve considered a booty call. But the Nightkeeper ways were different from those of the outside world, often for logical reasons. Like this one. And once the idea took root, she couldn’t shake it. Didn’t want to. She was hot and bothered, wet and wanting; strange tingles skimmed over her skin, heating her, making her ache with the need for sex. For him.

She’d changed out of the combat clothes into flowing drawstring pants and a tight tank, with a sweatshirt over the top. Figuring that—gods willing—she’d be out of the clothes pretty damn quick, she didn’t bother switching to something else, instead jamming her feet into a pair of slip-on sneakers and heading out of her suite, her pulse already bumping, her body ready for hard, fast sex.

As she skimmed down the hall, she knew her eyes were too bright, her cheeks flushed, and she hoped to hell she didn’t meet anyone coming or going, because they would know exactly what she was up to. Tacit permission was one thing; the walk of shame was another.

Breath backing up in her lungs, she stopped outside Michael’s suite, which was a corner unit with hallways on two sides, one leading to the mansion, the other connecting to the winikin’s residential wing. She knocked quietly. When there was no answer, she knocked a little louder, then risked it and stuck her head through the door, took an interested glance around the slick glass-and-chrome tables and black leather furniture, and called his name. There was no answer. Michael’s suite was empty.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath. “Where the hell are you?”

“If I might make a suggestion?” a familiar voice said from around the corner leading to the winikin’s wing.

Sasha blushed and shuffled around the corner, following the voice to its source. She found Michael’s winikin sitting just down from his door, reading a well-thumbed hardcover. “Were you waiting for me?” she asked, feeling awkward in the extreme.

“Hoping,” he said, with a small, tired smile. “I was hoping.”

“And your suggestion?”

“Try the ball court. These days he goes there almost every night and fights himself into exhaustion.”

“Oh.” She winced at the image that engendered. “Do you . . . Never mind.” She didn’t want Michael to think she’d been sneaking around behind his back, quizzing his winikin.

But Tomas answered. “He has problems managing his temper sometimes. He was an angry kid, got worse in his teens. That was why all the fight training, not just because it’s expected of a mage child, but because it was the only way I could think to keep him in check. I thought the military would be a good choice for him. That didn’t stick, but he found his way into FBI training on his own. I thought it’d be a match. It wasn’t. And since then . . .” The winikin spread his hands. “He’s trying.”

“He’s been much worse since I came, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You might be just the motivation he needs to make him buckle down and fix himself. The process is not uncommon in the bloodline.”

“So that makes it okay?”

“Of course not. But it makes it . . .” Tomas paused, trying to find the right word. “Manageable. The Stones that have the problem eventually figure out how to control it. You met him at an awkward time, that’s all.”

She stared at the winikin, not sure whether he totally believed that himself. “And that’s all it is, right? Nothing, um, magical?” She still wasn’t totally comfortable discussing magic as a reality.

“There’s not a really nasty talent in the bloodline, right?”

He glanced away, shaking his head. “Mostly warriors.” He paused, then met her eyes once more and said softly, “That first night, when he brought you out of Iago’s compound, he handed you off to me and made me promise not to give up on you, no matter what. So I’m asking for the same thing from you. Don’t give up on him. Please.”

“I—” She broke off, unable to make the promise. “I don’t want to.” But at the same time, she had to protect herself.

“I understand.” Tomas closed the book, let it rest on his thin knees for a moment. “The gods brought you to him. I just hope he’ll listen to them better than he ever listened to me.” He stood and inclined his head in a half bow. “Good night, Princess.”

Then he turned away and headed for the winikin’s wing of the mansion, leaving Sasha to stare after him.

When he was gone, she told herself to abort the mission. Maybe she should follow Jade’s example and