“Are you busy, warrior?” Phylicia purred, running a finger just inside the waistband of his pants. Perfume burst around him, like a garden in full summer glory. The famed Ilina mating scent? Intoxicating. And yet . . .

“I was just heading up to take a shower.”

Their laughter enveloped him, sliding over him like soft hands. “We’ll join you.”

Every masculine instinct he possessed urged him to agree. They were absolutely lovely and hungry for sex. But for a reason he didn’t understand, he was not. Now, if one of them had been Melisande . . .

Paenther strolled into the foyer, his gaze slamming into Fox’s as a smile lit the dark warrior’s eyes. “That gut of yours is gold.”

Fox looked at him in surprise.

Paenther nodded with a gleam of excitement. “We’ve got our first good lead. War room in fifteen minutes.”

As Paenther continued through the foyer, Fox gave the lovelies each a brief squeeze, then stepped away from them. “I’m sorry, ladies. Perhaps later.”

Without a backward glance, he turned and took the stairs two at a time, his mood buoyant. As he strode down the hallway toward his bedroom, relief flowed through him warmly, pride straightening his spine. He’d given them their first lead in finding Kara. And a good one. Hot damn.

He stripped as he crossed his bedroom, then stepped into the shower in the adjoining private bathroom before the water switched from cold to warm, not about to be late for that meeting.

As he dunked his head under the cool spray, he let the grin loose. Maybe he and his gut could make a difference after all. But as he reached for the soap, his brain exploded, his vision going black. Feck! He reached out blindly, his palm slapping against the tile wall to keep himself from going down.

And just as suddenly, he could see again. Except . . . what he was seeing wasn’t real. At least it sure as hell wasn’t in his shower. It wasn’t even clear, more like watching an old photograph come to life. A movie in sepia tones. A movie he was part of.

He was chained standing up, the rock rough against his bare back, the steel manacles cold against his wrists and ankles. Inside, he felt a deep, pounding . . . misery. A misery that turned to fury as a man walked into the unfinished, stone room.

The male was dressed in the blood red robe of the Mage elemental. Good goddess, was this the famed Inir? The man hardly looked the part of one of the most dangerous immortals on the planet, not with his unimpressive stature and round face, not until Fox looked into his eyes, eyes of pure copper. Eyes that gleamed with cold, soulless malice.

“The fox shifter,” the Mage said, his voice as cold as his eyes. “We meet at last. I’ve been hunting you for some time, did you know that?” He smiled a smile of pure evil. “Now you’re mine. And soon . . .”

The sound dissipated moments before the vision faded to black. Fox found himself once more staring at the water running in rivulets down the shower tile.

His heart pounded. Holy hell. He’d never experienced anything like that in his life. Never. Then again, he’d been warned that new Ferals often acquired new abilities.

He dunked his head under the now-warm water. A premonition? Was that what that was? Had he just intuited his own captivity? Mage captivity?

Bloody fecking hell.

This was one foresight he had to make damn sure did not come true.

Fox strode downstairs, still shaken from his premonition in the shower, to find a tense, tight little gathering in the foyer.

“It was at least a couple of hours ago,” Delaney said. Tighe stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders, as Jag, Hawke, and Kougar listened close. “Grizz wanted to know where Lyon was, and I told him I’d heard voices in his office.”

Oh feck.

Jag groaned. “If he overheard our plan . . .”

Tighe glanced at Fox as he joined them and filled him in. “Grizz and Lepard are missing, along with the Ford Escape.”

Fox grimaced. “We don’t need those two on the loose with that kind of knowledge.”

“Do we just let them go?” Jag asked.

Kougar nodded. “For now.” He turned to Jag. “Rikkert is in his room. Escort him downstairs and lock him up, then meet us in the war room.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Tighe said. He kissed his mate and started up the stairs after Jag.

Kougar’s gaze moved between the two remaining warriors. “We’ve got another new Feral flying in tonight. Two others are past due. When they arrive, take their phones and escort them downstairs.”

“Not much of a welcome,” Hawke muttered.

Kougar shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

The doorbell rang. Kougar and Fox exchanged a wary look, but Hawke’s face lit up. “That’ll be Zeeland. He called to say he and Julianne would be stopping by.”

“Yeah?” Fox was pleased. One of the nonshifting Therians, Zeeland was a member of the British Therian Guard, of which Fox had been a part for decades.

Hawke opened the door, and Fox’s old friend stepped into the foyer, accompanied by a small, attractive brunette with turquoise eyes almost as bright as an Ilina’s.

Zeeland said hello to Hawke, then spotted Fox. “Kieran!” The two men greeted one another warmly. “Or is it Fox, now?”

“It’s Fox, though it’s hard to change names after three hundred years.”

Pleasure lit Zeeland’s eyes. “I always thought you should have been one of the Ferals. I’m glad the goddess got it right.”

“I’ve always thought the same about you, Zee. Though I have to admit, I’m kind of glad you haven’t been marked. You heard about Ewan?” Ewan had also fought with them.

Zeeland frowned. “I hear the Mage have their claws in him. Has he really gone to the dark side?”

Fox frowned, nodding. “He’s under the thrall of the dark magic that infected all of the seventeen.” Ewan was one of the seventeen who Fox felt utterly certain was the one meant to be marked. But how did you prove something like that? “Unfortunately, we have to catch him before we can cure him.”

“I hope you do it soon.” Zee curved his arm around the woman’s shoulders and pulled her close. “I’d like you to meet my mate, Julianne.”

Fox smiled. He’d heard Zee had taken a mate, a young beauty from one of the Washington, D.C. area enclaves.

Above, Tighe and Jag started down the stairs, Rikkert between them. Since Rikkert was accompanying them calmly, he clearly didn’t have any idea why he was being led to the basement. It was just as well.

As the trio reached the foyer, Tighe clasped Rikkert on the shoulder. “We’ll make introductions later, during the welcome reception. But right now, we have work to do downstairs, and you’re going to help.”

Of course, there wouldn’t be a welcome reception, not for Rikkert. He wouldn’t be coming out of that basement anytime soon. If ever. Fox felt bad for him. How rotten to be marked to be one of the elite Feral Warriors only to discover it meant imprisonment? Maybe even death.

Fox turned his attention back to Zeeland and his bride. “So this is Julianne.” He took the woman’s hand and lifted it to his lips in a gallant, old-world gesture, enjoying the freedom to charm, knowing he’d never turn her head. Mating bonds were solid.

“Did Zeeland mention me?” Julianne’s smile was at once surprised, shy, and delighted, charming him in return.

“Only when he was in his cups, and then he droned on and on about the beauteous Julianne, his sunshine, too young, etc., etc.” He winked at her. “I take it you are no longer too young.”

“I’m not.” She cut Zee a smile laced with exasperation. “I haven’t been for five years.”

“Five years?” Fox’s gaze went from one to the other. “He didn’t tell me that.”

“I was an idiot,” Zeeland said, pulling Julianne closer. “But she’s mine now, and I’m never leaving her again.” The look that passed between the pair was filled with such a depth of tenderness that Fox almost felt compelled to look away. Another fool risking all for love.

“So,” Fox said, breaking the spell. “What brings you here?”

Both Zee’s and Julianne’s expressions changed, rippling with a tension that surprised him.

“Julianne is here to meet Ariana.”

Fox cocked his head, suspicion leaping. “You have the look of an Ilina,” he murmured.

Julianne blanched.

Fox watched her, mortified. “I said the wrong thing.”

Zeeland pulled his mate closer, but he shook his head. “No. It’s the truth and no longer the secret it once was. Julianne is one-quarter Ilina.”

Fox started with surprise. “I didn’t know they . . . had babies.” The legends claimed that the all-female race reproduced through magic, their maidens born fully grown and ready to take their place in Ilina society.

“They don’t, usually. It’s very, very rare for an Ilina to conceive. Rarer still for one to give birth.” Zeeland’s mouth hardened. “When Julianne was nine, her parents were killed in cold blood, leaving her an orphan. A few months ago, the same Ilina tried to drag us into the Crystal Realm to suffer the same fate.”

Fox stared at him, his brows drawing down. “Why?”

“Because everyone still thought them extinct, and we learned the truth. They killed to keep their secret.”

Fox tried to imagine one of those petite, pretty mist warriors taking life in cold blood. The sweet Cressida. The sultry Phylicia. The cold-eyed Melisande . . .

A chill of understanding skated over his scalp. It was Melisande.

Julianne’s mouth compressed. “Kougar says that Ariana didn’t sanction the killing of my parents. She didn’t even know about it until very recently. She’s been asking to meet me.” She frowned prettily. “I need to understand my heritage. I need to know who I am.”

“I’m not sure how much time Ariana will have today,” Hawke said. “We’ve just received our first good lead on Kara. I’m sure we’ll be heading out soon.”

“Then perhaps my arrival is timely,” Zeeland said. “If the Ferals need backup, I’m available.”

Kougar stepped forward. “We could use you, Zeeland.” He greeted Zee with his usual reserve, then surprised Fox by leaning down to give Julianne a kiss on the cheek. “You have nothing to fear, Julianne. Ariana is as nervous about meeting you as you are her. Your introduction to your heritage was a poor one.”

“You could say that,” Zeeland said darkly. “I’m not leaving her side.”

“Ariana would never harm one of her own.” Kougar turned to Julianne. “You’re one of hers, now, whether or not you choose to acknowledge the connection.”

“It’s not Ariana I’m worried about,” Zee muttered.

Kougar nodded toward the other hallway. “We’re meeting in the war room. I’m afraid it’s a closed meeting, but you’re welcome to await Ariana in the dining room. Pink will be happy to serve you refreshments.”

Before Zeeland had a chance to reply, half a dozen Ilinas materialized in the foyer, Ariana among them, along with Phylicia, Cressida, and Melisande.

Fox’s gaze found her in an instant, energy and desire sliding over his skin like the soft caress of feminine fingers, sending his pulse into overdrive and the blood flowing hotly through his veins. Even with that hard warrior’s expression, she was inexpressibly lovely, her features even and pure, her jaw proud, her body lithe and lovely.

Her gaze zeroed in on him, that same mix of anger, confusion, and desire swirling in sapphire eyes. But as she jerked her gaze away from his, turning it to the others, she froze. Her eyes narrowed, her hand flying to the hilt of her sword as her body tensed, as if for battle.

Fox took a step forward, driven by an inexplicable need to protect her. But Hawke put a hand on his arm, holding him back as Kougar placed himself squarely between Melisande and Zeeland.

His old friend had shoved Julianne behind him and was drawing his own knife, a low sound of fury rumbling from his throat.

Bloody hell. He’d been right about Melisande’s being the one responsible for the deaths of Julianne’s parents. And Kougar had clearly anticipated the confrontation.

“Put the knife away, Zeeland,” Kougar said calmly.

“You defend her?” Zeeland demanded.

Melisande stepped to the side, where she could see Zeeland, no remorse in her expression. Instead, she wore a hard look that said, bring it on. But as Fox watched her, something happened. Chaos flared in the cold depths of her eyes, and she swayed ever so slightly, her skin turning pale as new snow. With a hard breath, she seemed to gather her wits, her shields slamming down until nothing showed but that cold warrior’s façade.

It all happened so quickly, he wondered if he’d imagined it. But she was still pale. And if he were to touch her, if she were ever to allow that, he knew he’d feel tremors rippling through her slender form.

As Ariana stepped close to Melisande’s side, Kougar crossed his arms and faced Zeeland fully. “Melisande is no danger to you or your mate, Zeeland. Unless you attack her. And then, if you survive, you’ll answer to me.”

Zeeland’s disappointment in Kougar’s position was patently obvious, but he was a soldier first. He sheathed his knife, but his expression made it clear that Melisande had better keep her distance, or he would happily cut out her heart.

At Ariana’s touch of her arm, Melisande slowly sheathed her own blade and didn’t look any happier about doing so than Zeeland had. As Fox watched her, she glanced at him, and in those glorious, sapphire eyes, for the breadth of a heartbeat, emotion flared once more. Accusation. Disbelief. Fear.