“But, Xelan, I was only trying to break up the fight.”

“I believe you, but learning to fight comes with a certain amount of responsibility.”

Korac was careful to remain downwind of the training grounds as he stalked Rayne and the traitor through their paces. All the Progeny showed tremendous growth in their physical abilities in the years since the traitor first approached them. But not all of it was on him, though.

Celindria’s descendant demonstrated killer instincts, a wildness to her offensives, reminiscent of a certain Icarean King. Korac could see Nox’s influence in how the girl held nothing back, even with her guardian, and the General appreciated her growing defiance in the face of ‘responsibility.’

Rayne dropped the dumbbells she was using for deadlifts to place her hands on her hips. “Don’t you think I know that? All I do is try to live up to this enormous expectation, so forgive me if I needed to blow off some steam.” She turned her back on her guardian and stared out into the woods in Korac’s direction.

He slipped behind a tree as the traitor approached his ward. “You work the hardest, and you’ve made such significant progress. I’m so proud of you, Rayne. I only worry about how you’re handling the stress of it all.”

“Which stress, Xelan?” Celindria’s descendant turned and faced her guardian once more, and from here, Korac could smell the salt of her tears. “Failing my classes because I don’t see the point in homework? My girlfriend breaking up with me for some jerk? Or how the invading King kills me every night in my sleep or worse…”

The traitor went stone still, and the girl shied away from him as if she’d said more than she’d meant to.

“Rayne, what is ‘worse?’ What is he doing now?”

Celindria’s descendant waved a hand in dismissal. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

But her guardian wouldn’t have it. He gently took the girl by the biceps and made her look at him. “You can tell me anything. I’m only worried about how you’re doing.”

Rayne sighed before saying, “Nox held me.”

What?!

In an annoying turn of events, the traitor and Korac shared the same recoil to her confession.

No.

Korac abandoned his post, running through the woods faster than human eyes could detect. Once through the treeline and into an adjacent neighborhood, he hopped into the Porsche 911 he’d parked nearby.

This was not good, but it explained why Nox had asked for three brunette girls with blue eyes the night before. Obviously, Korac had realized the connection, but not the purpose. Feeding on the Cult of Night was essential to the invasion strategy. And so what if the King wanted Pleasers who’d resembled Rayne? Korac had thought nothing of it.

Until Rayne said Nox held her in a dream.

The Enforcer at the gate let Korac drive the convertible into the compound, and he abandoned it to their minions as he rushed to the royal quarters.

The Justice intercepted Korac, much to his irritation. The short woman asked, “Have you seen Melinda?”

There wasn’t time for this. Korac remained composed despite his boiling frustration. “Who is Melinda, and why should I care?”

The Justice tugged on the lapels of her blazer, straightening it with some haughty authority. “Melinda is one of the Pleasers you collected last night. She didn’t turn up for her rotation this afternoon.”

Shit.

Fuck.

Korac said, “Prep your infirmary. I’ll have her with you in a moment.” He didn’t wait for the Justice’s response or any further questions as he rushed the rest of the way to Nox’s quarters. Outside the door, Korac considered what he might find inside and if he even wanted to see it.

After a deep breath to steel himself, Korac knocked.

“Enter, General.”

Inside, Nox stood before the fire, leaning an arm against the mantle. A crimson smear stained his lips as he stared hungrily into the flames. The aroma from the burning wood perfumed the air, but there was another odor beneath it. A darker scent.

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A pitiful whimpering drew Korac deeper into the room. He found the first girl twisted on the floor on this side of the bed. Her blue eyes were swollen shut. The puffy, purple lids looked in Korac’s direction as if she could hear him, and she whimpered again. Still in the bra and panties he’d brought them in, she made no attempt to move.

While Nox kept his eyes on the blaze, Korac knelt and checked the girl’s pulse.

Thready.

She was dehydrated and pale—drained. That’s when Korac noticed all the bloody divots torn out of her body at random, huge chunks taken out by teeth.

Nox’s teeth.

Her limbs looked wrong, and she’d rested them at a strange angle—

Oh.

Nox had dislocated every one of her joints right down to her fingers and toes.

Without a nacre, this damage would take months to heal. All because Nox had held Rayne in a dream.

Korac said nothing—would not say anything to his King. At least the girl was alive. It was imperative to keep relations between the Icari and the Cult of Night civil as long as the invasion relied on their services.

As gently as possible, Korac scooped the girl in his arms. He was halfway out of the room, when he heard another whimper.

With his back to Nox, Korac shut his eyes.

Three girls.

Three trips.

Nox said nothing as Korac carried the first one out. The General brought her to the infirmary.

As he laid the girl on the first gurney, the Justice clicked her tongue and admonished, “How can you shame us this way, Melinda?”

Melinda groaned, but didn’t form a sentence.

Korac glared at the back of the Justice’s head as she continued. “Obviously, you angered the Master after he found you fit to bed. What did you refuse him? I bet you won’t do it again.”

Disgusted, the General went to retrieve the next girl, unwilling to correct the Justice on this issue. Unwilling to speak about it at all.

As Korac lifted the last girl in his arms in the same condition as the other two, Nox finally said something.

“I know you understand.”

The girl weighed nothing in Korac’s arms, her body clammy with so little blood. Should Korac say something? But what could he say? There were so many things hinging on this. If Nox could hold Rayne the night before, which he clearly had, then he was on his way to winning the wager.

Even though Sagan spent the last night awake and not in a dream with Korac, there was no time to waste. Or he risked a similar fate for Sagan.

Korac responded the only way he knew how. “Of course, your majesty.”

As he deposited the last girl in the infirmary, Korac distracted himself from the impending storm. Instead, he thought of Sagan’s bravery two nights ago when she’d faced that teenage piece of shit who’d blackmailed her into a relationship.

Punk.

Tonight, Korac would treat Sagan.

But first…

He knocked on Colita’s quarters. Again, she didn’t answer until the second knock. “Good evening, Korac.”

Why was she always mostly naked?

Contempt clipped Korac’s usually careful cadence. “Colita, you have yet to do your part with the Progeny descendants. What are you waiting for, exactly?”

Her wicked smile must tempt some men, but certainly not Korac. She purred, “Their age.”

Korac raised a brow in question.

Scorned by his rejections and refusal to play her games, Colita sighed and flattened her tone. “I was waiting for men and not boys. Now they’re old enough. I’ll get to work tonight.”

Korac shook his head, incredulous. “You’re opening with the seduction angle? You’re not even trying for a creative ploy?”

Colita smirked, raking a hand down her slender curves, as she assured, “Tried and true.”

“Good night, Colita.” Korac walked away without giving her assignment another thought.

She slammed the door in his wake.

In his own quarters, Korac desired an escape. He thought of violet eyes and fierce courage. A woman who smelled of fresh fruit and summer nights.

Sagan deserved to know the truth, but it wasn’t the right time. She deserved an escape as well, and Korac aimed to give her one.

He fell gracefully into an armchair and popped a subconscious manipulation capsule.

The young woman appeared in the dream wearing more clothes than Korac had yet seen on her. Long pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved top hid most of Sagan’s skin from view. When she turned and faced him, Korac tried not to react.

A black eye.

The light blue swelling and redness in her corneas reminded Korac of the girls from earlier in the night. Not as striking, but no less enraging.

Justin was breathing on borrowed time.

Sagan ducked her eyes, hiding in shame. “Sorry about last night, Korac. I didn’t feel well.”

He cupped her chin and positioned her face gently to better examine the bruising. Korac said, “I suppose you’ll tell me you fell. Or ran into a doorknob?”

Sagan surprised Korac by staring him down. “No. I won’t lie. Not to you.”

Forgetting his composure just this once, Korac put his hand on his hips and stared down at his tapping foot. He was thinking… About everything.

And he decided.

This space was not about anyone but them.

Korac cupped Sagan’s nape and kissed her. It was impulsive and probably a bad idea given her condition, but—

Sagan kissed back, moaning into his lips. She parted hers, and Korac took the invitation. They tasted each other, and he enjoyed her sweetness.

Even when they broke apart, they stared at one another with the same smile on their lips. Sexy, happy, and a little silly.

Korac held up a finger. “One second.”

Sagan peered at him with naked curiosity but waited patiently as Korac went around his bed and held up his surprise.

Matching axes.

He tossed one to Sagan, and she caught it with a gleeful cry. “It’s beautiful.”

Polished to a fine shine, Korac admired the emblem of the Pretiosum Cruor on the axe heads. Double-bladed, they made for quite the pair of death-dealing weapons.

Sagan practiced her stance with her axe. With him pressed along her back, Korac corrected her arms for the best feel. Against her ear, he asked, “How’s that?”

A little breathless in his arms, Sagan said, “It feels right.”

Sure, preparing the Icarean tour of the Cult of Night compounds was a better use of his time, but that could wait.

Sagan was the only thing on Korac’s mind tonight.