She stepped out from behind the doors of the dressing cabinet, her lovely face drawn in concern, and he nearly sobbed his relief.

“What is it?” she asked, coming for him just as he strode towards her. He needed to touch her. Hold her.

Their outstretched fingertips brushed together, and then the thunder stuck. It boomed with such force that the room shook, and Eliza screamed. The shockwave hit Adam dead center, sending him to his knees. His breath left him. Dimly he heard Eliza calling his name. A red haze clouded his vision, a buzzing filled his ears.

Power, complete and white-hot, rushed over him, curling him in on himself. He could not breathe, not move. Eliza cried for him.

Eliza.

Another wave of power struck; this one cool as lake water. With a great gasp, he drew a breath, his back arching and his sight returning. For a moment, he hunched upon the bedroom floor, his heart threatening to pound out of his chest, and Eliza kneeling beside him, her soft hands touching his cheeks. Then he blinked, and it was as if the world had been repainted with the saturated colors of a Van Gogh, the edges of objects shimmering with strange light.

Oh, but he knew this world. A shocked laugh left him as he turned towards Eliza, who gazed up at him with worry.

“Eliza.” He whispered it but his voice rang like bells in his ears. Joy and relief surged through his bones. He cupped her cheek with one hand while wrapping his arm about her slim waist to pull her tight against him. She felt so bloody good, just right. Her pink lips opened to question him. He captured those lips, licked away those words with his tongue, and she melted into him. Just so.

He kissed her deeper, his thumb caressing her plump lower lip so that he might feel her mouth even as he tasted it. And she moaned, her breasts pillowed against his chest, the sweet valley between her thighs cradling his cock. Never in all his long years had he felt anything better. But she pressed her hand against his shoulder with enough force and intent that he knew she wanted him to stop.

He didn’t like that, wanted to growl his protest, but he eased back. Lips swollen and her cheeks flushed, she was so enticing he nearly kissed her again.

“What has happened?” she asked, searching his face for answers.

His grip upon her waist tightened. “Eliza” – he swallowed hard as elation went through him again – “my powers are restored. But Mab’s curse is gone. I felt it break.”

Had he not been so close to her, he might have missed the shadow of fear that flickered through her eyes. Slowly she sank to the floor, and he realized they’d been kneeling this whole time. He followed her down, gathering her up and pulling her into his lap. That she didn’t resist but rested her head against his chest made his old heart ache. Adam closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her temple. She was his. His.

“What does it mean?” she whispered, her nimble fingers tracing patterns over his chest.

He might have told her what he suspected, but her shocked gasp had him tensing. Only then did he become aware of the sound of rain. It came in a great downpour, beating against the roof as if trying to break in.

“Adam, look.” With a shaking hand, she pointed to the window.

It was not rain, however, that streaked over the windows. But blood.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sin left Mab’s house on legs that shook. He’d done it. He’d destroyed the bitch. Above him thunderclouds began to gather, the rumble in the sky deep and ominous. The clear morning sun fled in favor of darkness. And yet he’d never felt lighter. He grinned, wanting to laugh. He was free.

The faint rumble of thunder lingered as the tiny hairs on the back of his neck lifted. Slowly he turned. A shadow broke from the garden wall. Sin’s back tensed, a crackle of power dancing over his fingertips. But he hesitated in striking out. Slim and lithe of movement, the figure stalked toward him without pause.

The clouds parted, revealing his guest, and a punch of hot dread hit him hard enough to set his skin to prickling. Miranda, dressed as a boy beneath the billowing cloak she wore, stared right back at him. Her expression was not one of love, but of disgust.

At first her voice was calm, almost regretful. “I’ve been following you. You’ve seemed so… lost.”

Because he was lost. A strangled sound left him, but he could not give voice to his pain.

“I saw you.” She nodded up toward Mab’s window, the curtains open wide as always. “Undressing for… You are her lover?”

No. No. No. He willed the ground to open up before him. But his powers, like him, were frozen with fear.

“St. John.” Her honey-rich voice was curt with displeasure. “Tell me that what I saw is not true.” Closer she came, little flames dancing along the ground in her wake. “Tell me you have not betrayed us all.”

Christ, he wanted to cry. He couldn’t even make his mouth work, but merely looked at her with all the regret and shame in the world. Because it was clear she did not see him slay Mab. Even worse, he’d given a vow never to reveal what he was. It was the price of Judgment. He was a secret slayer. His deeds never to be revealed, or he would die.

She cocked her head, peering at him as though he were an insect she’d soon smash. “The GIM are dying. Daisy and Mary are dying.” The bush beside him burst into flames. And Miranda’s eyes flared with ire. “Yet you are in bed with the very bitch who is causing this.”

“I…”

Miranda took a hard step closer. “Holly is like a sister to you. How…” She took a sharp breath. “How could you? And for what? To… to swive that…” Her teeth ground, and another bush exploded in flames.