Mists of Velvet

have stopped him from a fate we both know is awaiting him.”
    “Rhys isn’t suicidal. And he isn’t magical. He won’t be able to open the door to the cave, and he won’t intentionally get himself killed.”
    “Fate is a funny thing,” Suriel said. “You cannot outrun it, or alter it, no matter how hard you try. It is the same even in your world, is it not?”
    Fisting his hands at his sides, Keir strived to keep his emotions under control. But the truth was, he was unraveling. Something was happening to him, and he couldn’t explain it. A piece of him was dying inside, and it had nothing to do with what was happening in Annwyn, or Rhys.
    “What are your motives?” Keir suddenly snarled. He didn’t trust Suriel, and he didn’t believe for one minute the angel was all he appeared to be. This concern for Rhys was some kind of ruse to deflect Keir from Suriel’s true purpose.
    “My motives are my own. What about yours?”
    “Mine?” he choked. “What the hell are you insinuating, Suriel?”
    “Just that we all have parts to play in this prophecy. And those parts are preordained. Like fate, we cannot alter what we are.”
    “What are you, Suriel?”
    “A fallen angel. And what about you, wraith? What are you, really?”
    “You know what I am.”
    Suriel’s slow smile raised the hair on Keir’s nape. “Yes. I do. I do know.”
    “Just stay the hell away from me, and Rhys, too!” Keir thundered. “Stick to your mortals here on Earth, and I’ll worry about Annwyn.”
    “Very well.” Suriel moved to leave, then stopped. “There will come a time—very soon, in fact—when you will humble yourself before me. You will request a favor of me, and I will not be able to grant it.”
    “What a surprise,” Keir mocked.
    “Fate, wraith. Remember, it cannot be altered.”
    “So why bother to tell me?”
    “Because when that time comes, I don’t want you to believe that my refusal to give you what you desire most has anything to do with this petty disagreement today.”
    “I want nothing from you, Suriel.”
    “You will. Now, I have one more visit to make; then I’ll be gone again. Give my regrets to the crow for missing him, and tell him not to bother trying to find me again.”
    Keir watched as Suriel disappeared in a shaft of glimmering crystals. Bastard. He didn’t like him, but more importantly, he didn’t trust him—never had. There was a darkness to Suriel. He had seen it in a divination, as well as with his waking eyes. Suriel was hiding something, and that made him more dangerous than ever.
    Perhaps if he weren’t so damned tired and weak, he might be able to reason it out, to discover what it was that set his nerves on edge whenever Suriel was around. But the truth was, his brain was fried, and his concentration was shit.
    Flopping down into Rhys’ chair, Keir placed his head on the desk and pressed his eyes shut. He felt out of control, angry, insolent. He was worried about Rhys, and he felt guilty as hell for the way he had been leaving him alone the past few weeks, not to mention the way they seemed to be bickering like an old married couple.
    He’d tried to tell himself that Rhys was safe enough within the walls of Velvet Haven, but he knew better than that. The human woman had been taken from the club and sacrificed out in the open. No place—and no one—was safe from the Dark Mage.
    Especially not a mortal like Rhys. He had plenty of Sidhe pride, and fiery Fey blood, but none of the magick.
    Damn it, Keir knew better than to leave. He was Rhys’ Shadow Wraith, created to follow him through life, guarding and guiding. But he’d been doing a shitty job of it.
    But it wouldn’t be forever, he reminded himself. Soon, the reason for his distraction would be gone.
    The pain of that admission cost him. If he had a heart, it would be twisted and squeezed, making him breathless. It was unbelievable to him that he had done the unthinkable. He had fallen in love with a mortal woman. And not just any mortal, he thought with hatred, but one who was dying.
    Rowan. Even the image of her flashing in his mind caused him pain. He couldn’t lose her, but he knew he was going to. There was nothing he could do; it was fate, just as Suriel said. As much as Keir despised the truth, he knew it was so. There was nothing in the mortal realm or in Annwyn that could save her.
    If only his love could.
    Jesus, he was fucked up. He was a Shadow Wraith, his existence tied to Rhys. But his soul was