Mab tossed a length of scarlet hair over her shoulder. “They are as pathetically mundane as any human, Mellanhov.”

“And yet they elude you, Mabella.” Mellan grinned with evil glee when she snarled, baring her little black fangs at him.

“I want every GIM in London cut down until Aodh gives himself up. Slaughter them all, the unnatural creatures.”

Sin ground his back teeth and willed himself to remain frozen. If he moved the slightest muscle, he would be detected.

“The lycan king’s mate is a GIM,” Mellan said idly. “So his subjects stand with the GIM. It would be unwise to make further enemies with the lycans.”

Mab flopped down into a chair. “Their numbers are few.”

“But fierce.”

She shot Mellan a glare. “Are you attempting to irritate me?”

“Merely guiding your wayward thoughts back to solid ground.” Mellan’s thin lips curled. “Irritating you in the process is not without its enjoyment.” His smile fell. “You’ve always been too possessive of the knight. Aodh is a lost cause, pet. He’ll never be yours.”

It seemed the very air stilled, then grew so humid that the walls beaded with condensation. Around Sin, the plants began to grow, leaves coiling and crackling as they wound around his face and slithered over their pots. Mab’s pretty human countenance fell away, her fangs growing long and her eyes flashing purple. Mellan simply looked back at her.

For a moment, Sin thought Mab’s temper would explode. But then she gave Mellan a syrup-sweet smile. “And you believe Eliza will be yours, do you?”

“You think I have a care if she doesn’t want me?” He laughed, dark and slow. “It matters not if she ran off with Aodh. I shall track her down. It is but an eventuality.”

“Mmm…” Mab examined her black fingernails, her mouth in a saucy tilt. “And then what? You claim her as your bride and our kingdom is secure?”

Mellan’s eyes narrowed. “As you well know.” It was clear that Mellan knew she was baiting him. And just as clear that he’d let her. To a point. His utter lack of fear intrigued Sin. Everyone feared Mab.

Mab lifted one red brow. “A rather difficult task,” she said silkily, “given that she and Aodh are now handfasted.”

While Mab’s displeasure had heated the air, Mellan’s had a decidedly different effect. It froze. With the force of a blizzard, icy air swept through the room, cracking mirrors and destroying the plants in an instant. Had Sin not been an elemental capable of frost, he’d have died.

Slowly Mellan stood, his skin pale blue, his hair turning snow white. Ice gathered around Mellan’s temples and over his brow, forming a crown.

Hell, Sin thought, as shock speared through him. Bloody hell.

From her seat, Mab’s eyes went wide, her lips parting as if to take back her words. Sin had never seen her afraid.

“Repeat yourself, Mabella,” Mellan said in a terrible voice, so deep it vibrated throughout the room.

Mab pulled an object from her skirt pocket. It was a rag, bloody and tied in a Celtic love knot. “This was found in Aodh’s cell. It is Aodh’s blood. I can smell it. There can be no doubt that Aodh has handfasted to the girl.”

Mellan’s roar shook the house.

“Who is laughing now, Mellan —” Mab’s words were cut short from the force of Mellan’s blow.

“Stupid cow. You know nothing.”

“It does not matter if the girl joins with Aodh. He has already ceded his powers to me. He’s lost.”

“As it is, I cannot wed her if she’s handfasted to Aodh. Our laws forbid it, as you damn well ought to know.”

Her eyes slid away. And Sin understood at the precise moment that Mellan did. Mellan shouted his rage, shaking Mab as though she were a porcelain doll. “You want to kill her! Foolish chit. Always letting your lust blind you. The girl means everything.”

“He is the one with potential,” Mab shot back. “She is just a balm to his ego. And yours, apparently, oh great Unseelie Prince.”

With the flick of his wrist, Mellan flung Mab across the room. The rosewood secretary exploded as she slammed into it.

“Idiot! If they truly bond, you’ll not be able to kill one without destroying the other. Two millennium I’ve waited to find the means to control death, and thanks to my sister’s base needs and vanity, it is in danger of slipping past me once again.”

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Miss Eliza May exited Michaels’s office, Adam was ready to smash his fist through a wall. It did not help that Eliza merely gave him a pleasant smile and announced that she was ready to depart.

He tromped through the press office and led them outside. For a while, they walked in tense silence. He hated silence between them. Hated it almost as much as being left in the dark where she was concerned. Adam could hold his tongue no longer.

“Tell me what the oracle said.” Adam was reasonably certain the words sounded like a request instead of a plea. He’d be bolloxed if he ever pled for another thing in his life. Especially from her.

Eliza fussed with her wrapper, drawing it farther around her slim shoulders. The rain had stopped, and she’d hooked the handle of her umbrella over her forearm.

“Well?” he snapped out.

She was acting as she’d done when he’d chained her those many months ago, settling back into herself, shoring up those bloody defenses that, once in place, he knew he’d have a snowflake’s chance in hell of breaching. He ground his back teeth, fighting the urge to smash his fist into the side of the brick wall they were walking past.