He focused on the picture, noticing the deadened look in his eyes. Sleepwalking . . .

Before Calliope, he’d been handsome, but empty. Now he was wide awake.

All the better to feel my coming misery.

He punched the mirror, shattering the glass.

FORTY-SEVEN

Where are we going, demon?” Calliope asked him, having to raise her voice over the pounding waves.

Sian and his mate walked along the jade beach, the tumultuous night reflecting his mood. “It’s a surprise.” He was taking her to see a Pandemonian phenomenon that happened only during the full moon.

He could have traced them, but she didn’t seem to mind the blustery weather, and he needed the time to clear his head.

A week had passed since Rune and Josephine had first come to Graven, yet something was keeping Sian’s mate from surrendering to a life here with him.

She still talked with him into the morning hours, still loved exploring the realm, still responded to him just as passionately. But . . . he sensed her distance.

Earlier today, he’d found her on the terrace, gazing out over the sea with that analytical look in her eyes. She was working out some puzzle.

What? What? What? Their days were simple and undemanding. She woke. They ate. They pleasured each other. They explored. Not necessarily in that order. What possible conundrum could she have?

He couldn’t read her thoughts, couldn’t predict her moves. Her mind had always been a mystery, and she continued to hold him separate from her musings. He handled that as well as he had when he’d been sixteen.

In other words, she was making him crazed.

“Did you have visitors this morning?” she asked.

“I did.” Rune and Josephine had stopped by to bring word on Saetth. . . .

“My half brother was indeed in league with the Valkyrie,” Rune said. “The soothsayer must’ve predicted you’d make that vow if they sacrificed Calliope. They set her up, sending bounty hunters after her.”

So she’d been a virgin offering to appease the king of hell and keep the beast out of their lands.

Rune added, “Tomorrow night, Saetth’s hosting a gala—in Sylvan—to select a queen from a different fey realm, strengthening his alliances. Considering how emboldened he’s become, he must know you’ve vowed not to attack.”

Sian gritted his teeth. Something needed to be done, but he had effectively tied the Møriør’s hands. His allies were to meet the following week to discuss what their next move would be. “And what have you learned about Calliope?”

Rune shrugged. “We came up empty. Couldn’t find anything on her.”

Odd. “Should I send my generals?”

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Getting to know your mate is the fun part. Let it happen, brother.”

Sian was surprised a spy like Rune would advise against digging for more background. Matehood must be changing him. . . .

“It was nothing pressing,” Sian told Calliope.

“I see.” She frowned up at him. “Demon, have you slept in the past month?”

Not once. “I’ve been half asleep for far too long already.” He watched over her all night, wanting to be there when she had bad dreams. Plus he suffered his own waking nightmares that he would lose his mate again.

He’d survived before; he would not now. Why is she holding back from me?

Would this distance disappear once he claimed her?

In each of their encounters, he took her with his fingers, teaching her to relax and accept them, preparing her delicate fey body for his hulking demon one. She’d grown to crave penetration, especially when he tongued her at the same time.

Last night, he’d attempted three fingers inside her, but she’d climaxed too quickly. . . .

Why wouldn’t she ask him to claim her? That humming sensation down his spine continued, reminding him that time was running out.

Enamored females could overlook a lot of things. If he earned her love, could he keep it no matter his appearance?

“Are we almost there?” Lila asked Abyssian.

“Soon,” he answered absently, continuing on as if they were enjoying a tranquil evening stroll. The wind whipped his black hair over one lean cheek, his eyes flickering from that vivid green to onyx.

“Why is the weather like this, demon?” Tonight was the full moon, but the clouds were too dense to see it.

He didn’t answer, lost in thought. Today was their one-month anniversary, yet he’d barely spoken to her over dinner.

“You’ve been acting strange all week.” Since the day she’d spied on Rune and Josephine’s visit.

Though Lila had planned for Abyssian to claim her that night, he’d been agitated when he’d finally returned to her. He hadn’t improved much since.

She’d decided to wait for a sign, telling herself she’d know when the time was right. . . .

“Hey, big guy”—she bumped her hip against him—“I thought full moons were supposed to make werewolves get testy.”

No response. Okay, this was more than mere Abyssian moodiness.

She’d grown convinced that he was keeping something big from her as well, and his behavior tonight only reinforced her belief.

She’d gone a little nutty trying to suss out what, until she’d managed to let it go. For now.

Dragging her gaze from his stark face, she surveyed the storm-tossed sea. Off the shoreline, water spouts swirled atop the towering swells. Yellow lightning forked out, illuminating serpent scales. Thunder roared.

Mind-boggling.

Hell would never be orderly. Or meticulous. This realm was harder, wilder, crazier, and more brutal than Sylvan.

Yet for the first time in her life, Lila felt as if she’d found her true home here.

Not that she could ever ignore the problems in Sylvan. Why had her cousin never considered ending the slavery? Or her parents?

Though Lila needed to right these wrongs, she didn’t know how to start. How could she expect to figure out a solution for an entire fey kingdom when she couldn’t even untangle her own life?

She planned to ask Abyssian for his advice—once she’d disclosed all. One obstacle at a time.

He tightened his wing around her, buffering her from the gale. Turmoil rolled off him like those waves. She could relate.

I’m really falling for him.