“Mathias wants that book badly. How does he think it will help? Power-hungry tyrants aren’t usually looking to fulfill their sexual fantasies.”

She blinked up at him, brown eyes sober and open. He noticed that she wore a little white negligee, likely courtesy of Sabelle or Olivia. It dipped off one shoulder to reveal creamy skin dotted with cinnamon freckles. His unruly libido stood at attention, but he tamped it down. Now was hardly the time.

“The book grants wishes, sexual or otherwise. It’s known as the Doomsday Diary because, in the hands of a woman powerful enough, it could bring about doomsday.”

Sydney cocked her head. “Woman, not a man?”

Caden shook his head, preparing to launch into a history lesson. “You were right when you wrote in your article that King Arthur’s half sister, Morganna le Fay, created the book. She used it as a means to curse people. The theory is that if a witch writes in the book, her wish will come true. A powerful witch could work seriously dangerous magic with it. As with all magic, the one casting it must have the power and the passion to back it up.”

Sydney frowned, looking somewhat perturbed. “So it grants wishes only when a witch writes in it?”

“As far as I know. But perhaps any woman can. We don’t know everything about it. The diary disappeared a millennium and a half ago, and just a few weeks past, Bram discovered Marrok had been keeping it all that time.”

“You mean in his family, right? He-he can’t be that old.”

“Incredible, isn’t it? Morganna cursed him with immortality, using the diary. He stole it from her to try to uncurse himself, but nothing worked until he met Olivia. Bram tracked down the book and Marrok when he realized Mathias was returning from exile.”

“What did he do to earn his exile?”

“This is not the first time he’s tried to control magickind by foul means. If someone doesn’t stop him, he’ll oppress everyone and likely go on a killing spree that will make Ted Bundy look like an angel.”

She gasped as the words sunk in. “Wow. You tried to tell me that Mathias was no savior.”

“I couldn’t explain exactly why without giving away magickind’s secrets to a human. I never meant to drag you into this muck.”

“Human? You say that as if you’re another species. Though I suppose you are. Those two days we spent in my bed—”

“I transitioned from man to wizard,” he admitted the inescapable truth.

“I suspected as much after yesterday’s discussion.”

“It’s not something I asked for or wanted. I spent a lot of years praying the gene would pass me by. If I hurt or upset you as I transitioned, I apologize.”

“You were urgent but careful. Tell me the truth.” She turned her profile to him and stared at the wall. “Was I bedding more than one of you during those two days?”

Caden winced. This would be a tough admission, but she deserved it. “You weren’t. I would never abuse your trust by sneaking a copy of myself into your bed.”

“Then why did I see two of you? Did I see your human self and your magical self at once? Can you separate them at will? What happened to your human half?”

“It’s not like that. At the end of any magical being’s transition, the power that is uniquely theirs materializes, whether they want it or not. Mine is the ability to . . . ah, clone myself.”

“Amazing.” Sydney sat back against her pillows and drew her knees to her chest. “Yet you seem less than thrilled. If anyone should be rattled about all this, it’s me.”

“Little firecracker, given where you work and the stories you’ve been developing, you were much more prepared for magic’s emergence in your life than I. Until Sabelle appeared in my living room to tell me that Lucan was ill, I’d been blissfully ignoring it all.”

She frowned. “Until Lucan’s illness, you avoided this war. You weren’t fighting?”

“No.”

Her expression jerked into a frown. “So for weeks— months—the war has been raging, your people dying, and you stayed away?”

Damn, when the woman put it like that, he sounded cowardly. “They aren’t my people.”

“They are now.”

In name only. “I have a life and a job in Texas. I merely stepped into my brother’s shoes in the Doomsday Brethren until we find Anka. He’s in no condition to fight.”

“Any luck finding her last night?”

Regret skittered through him. He didn’t know what else he could have done to locate his brother’s mate, let alone something that would have rescued her before she’d been thrust alone in a dangerous world. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I know you’re concerned.”

“Thank you.” He rose reluctantly from the bed. “I should go. Will you be all right? Sabelle and Olivia should both be about.”

“Perhaps they’ll help me find a shower and a toothbrush?”

He smiled softly. “I’ve no doubt. Then they’ll direct you to breakfast and keep you company for a bit.”

“Hmm. Actually, I think I’d like to work on my next story.”

He froze. “You can’t write about everything I’ve just said.”

“Not until Mathias is vanquished and all is safe,” she assured. “I would never do anything to endanger you or your friends. I want to stay and help them, in fact. But this is amazing material.”

He shook his head. “Bram will fight your printing a word.”

“I’ll be careful, change names and places . . . whatever needed. But a story of oppression and war and heroism is something all humans will relate to, even if it’s about magickind. Besides, getting this story into the open may benefit magickind too.”

Caden raked a hand through his hair, largely to keep from grabbing her and shaking sense into her. “By inciting panic? How do you think humans will react when they know the bloke next door could be a wizard? Twenty-first century witch hunts aren’t that far-fetched.”

“You’re being paranoid. Hysteria like that hasn’t happened in hundreds of years. I’ll make certain it doesn’t happen. I would never let anything happen to these people.”

“You can’t write this story.”

Why the devil didn’t he tell her to work it through Bram, let him be the bad guy? Magickind wasn’t where he belonged. Why was he feeling protective?

“You’d have me bury the biggest story of my career?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “The one incredible story that could make me and show my parents that I’m every bit as successful—”

“And even if Mathias is defeated, magickind’s story will still be dangerous to tell, for everyone. No.”

She sucked in a breath and stood, her small curves outlined in gossamer ivory. “That’s not your decision.”

Caden wanted to refute that. Since transition, his instincts about Sydney had been clawing at him. Seeing her so passionate stirred his libido. Battling her defiance brought out his every instinct to claim her and make it his decision.

Sydney swept past him, and he grabbed her arm, holding her at his side. At the soft feel of her, his cock stiffened. Instantly. She should not affect him so quickly. He’d had enough sex to be content for a few days, surely. But even the hint of her surrender made heat slide over his skin and pool in his groin. Thick desire muddled his mind until he could only think of possessing her—completely. Duke and Bram and the others could wait.

Caden tumbled her to the bed. She gasped as he rolled her beneath him and positioned himself between her thighs. They wore too many clothes, damn it. His jeans, her wispy little nightgown. But he could fix that.

Lifting the hem of her gown, he stared into Sydney’s dark, stormy eyes, down at the parted berry lips luring him like a siren call. They looked sweet and plump and perfect, and could be his so easily.

He lowered his head, then hesitated. He knew, knew, that she was his mate. If he kissed her, the words would tumble out. As much as his instincts were screaming yes!, if he followed through, he’d tie himself irrevocably to her, to magic, and this place forever, stuck with a destiny he didn’t want. And he’d put Sydney in more danger.

With a growled curse, he levered himself up on shaky arms and sat on the edge of the bed, away from her. Bloody hell, if he wasn’t breathing hard. His every muscle and nerve urged him to kiss her, spill the words, complete the deed. His head knew better.

“What was that about?” Sydney sat up and was suddenly at his back, melting him with her nearness and the mixed scent of her arousal and anger.

“I should be training with the others.”

“You order me about.” Her voice hitched. “Tumble me into bed to change the subject, then avoid kissing me, as if I’m diseased.”

He whirled and found her earnest face—and temptation—so close. He put distance between them. “Sydney, the more tangled up in you I get, the more dangerous it is for both of us.”

“That didn’t stop you from spending two days in my bed.”

Caden hesitated, hurt tingeing both her words and her expression. Sydney didn’t often show her vulnerabilities. Now that she was, he had no good answer to right her smile.

“Witches and wizards require sex during transition. Without it, they will die.”

The hurt deepened. “So I could have been anyone? Or was I merely convenient because I happened to have that book you wanted so bloody bad?”

“I wanted you.” He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Only you. Duke insisted he bring in someone else to transition with me, and I refused. It is helpful that you had the book, but even if you hadn’t, I would have insisted on being with you. I’m not a heartless cad. I care about you. But having a relationship now isn’t smart if we want to stay alive.”

“Rubbish! Excuses. Every time we’ve had sex, you’ve more than hinted it was against your better judgment. I propositioned; you refused. The night you beat down my door, you couldn’t run away quickly enough the next morning. The evening you bent me over my kitchen table, I asked you to make love. Then your transition hit, and I happened to be the only woman handy. All along, you wanted to stop my story more than you wanted me.”

Caden’s jaw dropped. “You’re mad. I want you until I can’t breathe, until my thoughts are tangled inside out, until I could nearly die for not touching you. But I don’t want your death on my conscience. I don’t want to hurt you when I leave.”

I don’t want to meet the same end as my brother.

“Leave?” She blinked, her thoughts clearly working as she fought tears.

He wanted to reassure her. But that was pointless.

“Once your brother is well, you’ll go back to Dallas?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

Saying the word would hurt them both, so he merely nodded.

“Which leaves us nowhere.” She tensed, absently plucking at a stray thread on the coverlet.

“It’s for the best.” He willed her to understand. The sooner she could safely leave, the sooner he could resume his normal life and put magic behind him. They could both live, if not happily-ever-after, at least without constantly looking over their shoulder.

“You’re being a coward.”

The slur felt like a flaming torch to Caden’s chest. She didn’t understand how much he feared mating and hated magic. She hadn’t been running happily with her laughing younger brother through the grass one moment, then seen him hit by errant magic and fall the next, never to rise again. She couldn’t fathom the devastation this war would bring, the growing certainty that, if he mated her, she would be targeted for death. All too clearly, he saw that if he didn’t find a way out of this war soon, magic would not only change his life, but ruin it—and hers.

But more explanations would only prolong the inevitable and change nothing.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” Caden straightened his clothes and donned his discarded trainers.

“For the first time in my life, I began to think that I might be falling in love with a man who liked and understood me, didn’t think my theories were crazy. Supported me. Even my own parents haven’t done that.” Her voice was a low thing that throbbed with pain, striking him deep in the chest. “If you’re going to kill my hope, help me understand.”

Love? She might love him? Bloody hell. . . . Surprise washed over him, along with a cold chill in his veins. Yet wasn’t the reverse true? If he really considered the situation, wasn’t he falling for the stubborn, brave, intelligent, loyal reporter as well?

“They’re waiting for me on the training field.” He backed away, toward the door. “You likely won’t believe me, but I never meant to hurt you.”

With that, he cast one last look at Sydney, looking so soft and kissable among the rumpled bedding. Then, before he did something reckless he’d regret, he left, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

NIGHT DESCENDED AND MEALTIME arrived. Bram, Ice, and Duke looked sweaty and haggard after a long day of training and a fruitless evening of searching for Anka. The one responsible for their sore muscles, Marrok, ate energetically, seemingly untaxed by the day’s hard work as he consumed nearly his body weight in food. How any one man could eat that much, Sydney had no idea. That he sneaked heated glances at his mate, Olivia, didn’t escape her notice either.

Everyone else ignored them. Especially Caden.

Seated beside her, he carefully avoided brushing elbows or looking at her. He said absolutely nothing. After Sydney’s day of nursing Aquarius in a desperate attempt to cool her down, fending off a hundred questions during a brief phone call to Holly, scribbling her thoughts about her next magickind story, and trying not to feel her heart shattering into a million pieces—the distance he put between them hurt.

It was possible during all the time they’d worked, touched, and fought off the Anarki together that he’d come to care for her. But not enough to cross the chasm between them. He wanted to abandon the very world she’d been seeking her whole life. He had some disliking for magic, and if he ever discovered that she’d written in that book to bring him to her bed, he’d hate her for it.