Dreams of a Dark Warrior

was
shirtless.
”
    Regin rolled her eyes. Luckily, Thad was too preoccupied to notice the cougar going into heat right beside him.
    “So does this mean I’m like invincible to bullets or something?”
    “No, you’re still totally vincible,” Regin said. “At least until you stop growing and reach your full immortality.”
    Menacing growls sounded down the corridor as another fight broke out. Thad’s eyes started to go buggy again, so Regin snapped her fingers. “Hey, Thad! Stay with us, kid. Tell us about yourself. What are your parents like?”
Really strong? Probably don’t look much older than you do?
“Anything unusual?”
    “My mom’s a widow. My dad died on the work site when I was four. They’d adopted me not long before that.”
    An orphan. No wonder Thad had no idea what he was.
    “I live with Mom and my grandmother now. Nothing unusual. Mom likes to cook. Gram sews.”
    “So you eat your mom’s cooking?”
    He glowered. “She’s a
great
cook.”
    Talk about ruffled feathers. “I meant,
do you eat
?” Clearly,
nobody
better talk bad about Thaddeus Brayden’s mama.
    “Of course I eat.”
    “When was the last time?” Regin said.
    “I had a burger yesterday.”
    Natalya said, “Not quite so, my boy. You’ve been here for over a week.”
    “A week!” He shot to his feet, towering over them. “I’m not even hungry. How’s that possible?”
    “Some species don’t have to eat a lot. Regin’s doesn’t have to eat at all. There are phantoms, ghosts, succubae, incubi. Maybe half a dozen more.” To Regin, she muttered, “My money—and my hopes—are on incubus.”
    “I can’t believe I’ve been here that long! Oh, man, I missed a game Friday. Coach is gonna kill me.”
    If the mortals don’t kill you first. …
    “Mom and Gram are gonna be worried sick. I’ve never even broken curfew.” Then his voice went low. “Is my family gonna be safe?”
    “We don’t know,” Regin said. “But since you were adopted, they’re probably mortal, which means they’ll likely be left alone.”
    “If anybody touches them …” His eyes flickered.
Black.
    She and Natalya shared a look. Black indicated vampire, or possibly demon.
    Then Natalya’s gaze flittered toward the corridor. “Ah, gods, Valkyrie. Look.”
    Guards were dragging by Uilleam MacRieve. The werewolf’s blue eyes were glazed, his body shuddering, his skin bloodless. Dixon had vivisected him, leaving a line of staples down his broad chest. His ears were bleeding.
    “Wh-who is he?” Thad croaked.
    “One of my allies,” Regin said. The Lykae were now united with the Valkyrie, part of the Vertas army. In fact, Regin was distantly related to Uilleam by marriage. Her halfling niece Emma had wed his cousin, the werewolf king—a king who gazed at Emma with utter adoration and wolven protectiveness.
    And the Lykae’s prince? He was the werewolf in love with Lucia. The one who had better be protecting Luce since Regin couldn’t.
    Before all this had happened, Regin had briefly wondered if maybe she oughtn’t call them
dogs
or crack Cesar Millan jokes in front of them. Then she’d shrugged and said, “Neh.”
    At present, she felt fiercely loyal to Uilleam. She leapt to the glass. “We’re going to get out of here soon. MacRieve, just hang tough!” She watched until he disappeared from view.
    “Allies? We need allies?” Thad’s gaze darted to the wall, as if he yearned to start banging his head again. “Have they done that to you? Are th-they going to do that to me?”
    Regin looked at Natalya. “Not if I can help it.”
    I couldn’t break the vampire.
    As Declan stormed down the winding corridor, guards gave him a wide berth and researchers skittered out of his way. He heard their whispers. …
    “It was grisly, even by the Blademan’s standards.”
    “I almost felt sorry for a leech.”
    By the time Declan left him, Lothaire’s skin had beenseared away to the bone, his body more ash than flesh. Those UV lights burned vampires the way frostbite attacked a mortal—first the extremities, then spreading up the limbs like gangrene.
    Declan had been merciless.
    Yet nothing he’d done could make Lothaire talk. Toward the end, all the creature would say was, “She comes, she comes. She’s going to want it back. …”
    Was the “she” even real, or a hallucination?
    More soldiers cleared a path, their expressions wary. Declan knew they feared him, often overheard them talking about him. Recently, he’d