The small wound in her temple stung, but the one that had just been unleashed inside her threatened to crush her flat. As she stood at the edge of the bed, the darkness of night still coating the room and the scent of sea, blood, and climax in the air, she watched her true mate sleep.

This wasn't running.

She was going to get his mother and bring her back to him. She knew Mondrar well. She could take the risks. As a Pureblood, she wouldn't be detected by the Order.

He shifted his weight, one heavily muscled arm reaching for something across the bed. Her skin prickled. Her mind whispered for her to take off her clothes and get back in bed.

But instead she crept out of the cottage and into the deep night.

This wasn't running, she told herself again as she flashed away. This was proving that she understood Gray's purpose and that his fights were now hers.

He was weak, so weak that when Cruen called for him, he came without a second thought.

The ancient paven's favored reality was an endless strip of sun-warmed beach. To the untrained and virginal eye it seemed tranquil, harmless, but to anyone who'd ever been there for any length of time, they knew the ocean, sand, and palms beyond were a never-ending trap.

Cruen's fire-blue eyes moved over Titus piteously. "You appear weary, Brother. Hungry." His mouth tipped up at the corners. "How about you tell me what you need and I will tell you what you will give me for it?"

"I cannot revert back to Breeding Male status, Cruen," Titus rasped, looking for something to catch his weight but finding nothing.

Nothing but Cruen's outstretched arm.

He turned so that his pale wrist was exposed. Titus's fangs extended and his mouth watered.

"I cannot become an animal, a rutting monster that is reviled and feared," he continued desperately.

"You will go to Mondrar," Cruen said flatly. "You will make sure the mutore female..."

My daughter.

"...finds and removes Celestine Donohue from her cage."

Through his haze of blood lust, Titus tried to make sense of such a request, but it was impossible. Hunger clawed at his insides, roused the Breeding Male.

"Yes, Cruen," he cried out. "Yes."

Only when his fangs were an inch deep within Cruen's vein and suckling down his wondrous, magical blood did Titus recall the evil paven's final words.

"Then bring the mutore to me."

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

Gray opened one eye to the sun pouring in from the skylights. His head was pounding jackhammer style. What the hell? Then he remembered taking Dillon's memories-then he remembered those goddamn memories themselves, and a fresh wave of vitriol battered him.

"Dillon." He reached for her.

"She's gone."

Piper's voice. He sat up, his eyes narrow slits through the slamming of his brain and realized it wasn't the sun at all. It was still night and all three Warriors stood at the end of his bed, one of them holding a flashlight.

"Get that thing out of my face, Rio."

His own face a mask of disgust, the military Impure eyed the bed. "Don't need to ask what you've been doing."

Gray turned his gaze to Piper. "Do you know where she is?"

Piper shook her head.

"I can't fucking believe that veana," he grumbled.

"Really?"

Piper jabbed the male in the side with her elbow. "Shut up, Rio."

"So you had one hot night," Rio amended, his tone a little more sympathetic. "It's not like you-"

Gray flattened him with a look. "Love her?"

The male shrugged.

"Love doesn't solve the big problems, G," Vincent said coolly. "Trust me, I know."

Piper sideswiped him with a glare. "No, Gray. Trust me. I know."

Gray wasn't in the mood. For their jokes, their bitching, or their advice. Last night had been one of the greatest fucking nights of his life. He'd made love, straight up and real, to the veana he loved; he'd heard her tell him that she loved him too; and he'd finally been allowed inside her head, her heart, and her past.

How could he have possibly known she'd regret it all, cancel out everything they'd built together in the last several hours, and bolt?

He got out of bed, nude and head pounding, and went into the closet. He flipped on the lights. "Tell me you have something for me, Pip," he called out. "I need to get my mother out of that bullshit hellhole, bring her here, and then we'll get back to work." He pulled on his clothes with far too much venom, then walked back into the bedroom. "I won't be deterred again after this."

"I'll go with you, if you need a second."

About to pull on his shoes, Gray eyed Rio. "You're serious."

His face contorted with irritation. "'Course I'm serious. Fuck you."

"Well, I appreciate that, man. I do. But I'm going to go in quick, quiet, and solo, just like at the Paleo." He nodded at the male. "I'll contact you if I get into trouble."

"You do that," he said. "And, you know, I hope your mom's okay."

"All right. All right," Piper said loudly. "One more word from the penis gallery and I think I'm going to stick something sharp in my eye."

Vincent turned to stare at her. "Penis gallery?"

"Yeah, I said it." She nodded at Gray, pulled out a piece of paper. "Finish up with the shoes there, and I'll show you how you're going to get into Mondrar."

Mondrar was truly hell aboveground, which made Dillon feel oddly at peace there.

She had been inside the six-floored domed structure with its open, forget-about-privacy cells and aniselike scent twice. Both times she'd gone undercover as a guard looking for criminals who'd had political connections to her human senator. She'd paid killer bank to learn about the secret tunnel that had been dug by two former inmates over a fifty-five-year span. Granted, it was blocked up with four feet of moss and a metal container, but the thirty-minute dig to get inside was worth it. She would locate the veana and get her out, bring her back to her son-to Dillon's true mate.

Prove to him that she loved him.

Jesus, she really had become a pussy.

As the sky outside turned a steely gray, Dillon slipped on one of the sets of Mondrar inmate clothing hidden inside a metal box within the floor, grabbed the other and the heavy broom beside it, and began her search.

She moved quickly and quietly, inspecting one floor after another, careful to keep her eyes down. She acted as if she was just another one of the low-risk prisoners assisting in maintenance. But by the fourth floor she started to grow concerned. She'd been inside Mondrar for thirty minutes and she hadn't found Celestine. The longer she stayed, the more dangerous it became.

Just when she was about to change her plan, head up to the top floor and work her way down, a voice called out to her from one of the cells.

"This way," the male voice hissed. "The one you seek is here."

Dillon couldn't see where the voice was coming from, but she followed it, moving down a long row of open cells, her hackles raised. She wasn't about to trust anyone, but information from a fellow prisoner could yield something new.

"She is at the end of the cell block," the male voice uttered, but from where, Dillon could not see. What the hell was this? And who was this?

But then she spotted the veana at the far side of one of the wide hallways, just as the voice had said, and she broke into a relieved grin. She looked around, her eyes darting from cell to cell, searching for the voice, the face. Her jaguar was on edge, claws out, ready to strike. Who was he? And why would he want to help her?

"Go to her," said the voice, strong, older. For a moment she thought she'd heard it somewhere before, but then he uttered more forcefully, "Now, Veana. Before they come for the morning meal."

Damn it. Dillon had a choice to make and fast. Still vigilant, she left the mysterious voice and ran down the hallway, straight to Celestine Donohue's cell. Supplied inside the container, she had the key that opened every cage on this floor and she quickly used it to open the door.

The older veana was alone and curled up on her pallet. Dillon raced inside and gave her a shake. "Wake up and put these on. We need to go. Now!"

The veana looked up, her eyes tired and confused-and startlingly like her son's. "Who are you?"

"A friend of Gray's and Sara's. I've come to take you home."

Cellie's gaze flickered to the open cell door, then the set of work robes Dillon had tossed on her lap. In seconds, she was on her feet, robes on, following Dillon out into the hallway.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said, her gaze flickering every which way.

"Me too." She handed Celestine the broom, and the two of them kept their heads down and slowly made it to the stairwell. Once inside, they took off, racing down the steps. At the bottom, Dillon motioned for her to follow and they headed toward the metal plug and the moss. But just as they rounded the corner, a figure dressed only in a black robe and hood flashed in front of them.

Dillon shoved Celestine behind her, dropped into fighting stance, and hissed.

"I am not here to stop you," the figure said.

Dillon recognized the voice at once. "It's you. You helped me find her, get her out. Why?"

The robed figure shook his head, raised his arm. Dillon braced herself for something-she wasn't sure what. But once his arm was above his head, he froze.

"What is this?" Dillon demanded, ready to rip the hood right off this male. "What are you doing?"

"I am sorry," he said, dropping his arm. And as he did, the metal plug opened to reveal the strange blue light of a nearing dawn. "Go. Just go. Quickly."

Dillon didn't ask anything more, didn't even give him a second thought. She grabbed Celestine's hand and ran through the opening.