“Holy fuck,” I whispered.
Slate's coming back! Put that thing away! RS screeched.
I jolted out of my shock and folded the paper before shoving it back into my bra. Slate emerged seconds later, a leather bag in his hand and a strained expression on his face. He climbed into the driver's seat, tossed the bag at me, and started the engine. I peered inside the satchel as he pulled out of the compound.
“Slate,” I whispered, another shock adding to the previous.
Inside the bag was a collar; one of the metal bands the Gargoyles put around the necks of arena prisoners when they're brought in. The collars control Beneather magic, suppressing it until the corresponding receiver triggers its release. The remote that controlled this collar was in the bag too, along with a key that would open it.
“I don't feel right, sweetheart,” Slate announced without looking at me. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I know you sense it too. If I'm still being affected by Gargo's blood, I have to rein in my power before it's used against us. I told Aaro that he's temporarily in control of the Zone.”
“Slate, no.”
“What else can I do?” He asked helplessly. “Lock myself in a jail cell?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I'll put myself under house arrest,” he went on. “I need you to watch me.”
“And then what?”
Slate glanced at me again and his dark look spoke volumes.
“Slate!”
“Then we get more of Darc's blood in me.”
“And if that doesn't work?”
“We find another solution.”
I went silent. I didn't want to tell Slate how relieved I was. Not that he was still infected but that there was enough of him left to fight it. The collar wouldn't fix him but it would limit his ability to harm people. And, to be completely honest, I was glad this wasn't him; that the man I loved hadn't buckled under the strain and turned into a violent dictator.
Slate parked before the palace then rushed me up the stairs and inside. He locked the doors behind us; first the front and then the bedroom doors. When we were safely ensconced in our suite, he pulled out the collar and held it before him. His hands trembled. I had wondered why he hadn't put the collar on immediately and here was my answer. He couldn't do it. I went to Slate and reached for the collar.
“Let me.”
“No.” He held on and met my stare. “I need to do this myself. It's about time I got a taste of my own medicine, eh?” He attempted a grin and failed. “Just stand beside me, sweetheart. That's all I need.”
“Slate,” I whispered and laid my hand on his cheek. “You don't have to do this. We can contact Darc and he'll be here in seconds.”
“We can't risk even that.” He visibly swallowed and tossed the bag with the remote on the bed nearby. “Don't release me, El. Not unless you're sure that I'm completely me.”
“Okay.”
Slate lifted the open collar to his throat. His body jerked. His eyes shivered. A moan escaped his lips as he met my worried gaze. Then a terrible comprehension filled his eyes.
“It's not Gargo's blood,” Slate whispered in horror. “El, it's—” Slate flailed and his arms moved up swiftly.
It happened so fast. I barely registered it. Slate was on me before I could blink. An ominous click echoed. My eyes widened and Slate's narrowed.
With a gasp, my hands went to the cold, steel band around my throat.
“There,” Slate said with satisfaction, his voice sounding strange. “Now, you're completely mine, Spellsinger. And I have such wonderful plans for you.”
“Who are you?” I demanded.
Slate smiled, but it looked odd. Twisted. More teeth than lips. I'd never seen him smile like that before. He slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me forward against himself. He had an erection.
“I'm vengeance; here to see justice served,” he declared.
His mouth covered mine, and I struggled wildly. One powerful hand lifted to grab my face, fingers pressing into the joints of my jaw and forcing my mouth open. His tongue shoved inside my mouth, filling me to choking, and I fought harder, going as far as kneeing him in the groin. But he simply shifted out of the way and laughed into the kiss. If you could even call that a kiss.
Kyanite and RS were lost to me, but I could practically hear them urging me to use my charm to escape. I knew what they'd say, how they'd argue with each other; one telling the other that I couldn't travel now, not while this stranger held me. I'd only take him with me and I didn't want whoever this was in Kyanite. No, I had to bide my time and wait until he let me go to make my move. And I had to grab that bag with the collar's key in it when I did.
As the interloper forced his kiss upon me, my mind raced. If this wasn't Gargo, who was it? Who would call themselves vengeance? Who could inhabit another person's body? Who could overcome a man as powerful as Slate?
I trembled when the answer arrived.
It was so obvious that I wanted to kick myself for not thinking of him sooner. Your first conclusion will be wrong, Daha had written. Of course, it was; we'd been so focused on Gargo because of his blood affecting the Zone. It never occurred to us that there could be two, completely separate forces at work. We hadn't even
