he was aiming for the rocks in the river outside his studio.
“I think it does.” He was too calm. Rania guessed he had planned a trick.
Well, she had one of her own.
“I don’t have to tell,” she replied.
“Maybe I can encourage you,” he said, his tone daring. He opened his claws, smiled at her, then let her drop.
Rania shifted to her swan form, flailed ineffectively with her cut wing feathers, then shifted back to her human form again. She was falling fast and it was terrifying. Her heart raced, even though she had no intention of crashing into the earth.
She let Hadrian think she was in desperate straits, saw him surge forward to intervene in the last minute like a conquering hero, then played a trick of her own.
She wasn’t going to owe him anything, even if it meant making her abilities clear.
Rania chose to retrieve her knife.
Two
The swan maiden disappeared, right before Hadrian’s eyes.
He blinked but he wasn’t mistaken. She was gone. She’d switched between forms, changing from a swan to a woman then back again. Both were gorgeous. She’d fallen fast and just as he’d been about to snatch her out of the air—and earn her gratitude—then she’d vanished in the blink of an eye.
His plan had failed.
Worse, he had no idea where she’d gone. Hadrian couldn’t see her. He couldn’t smell her. He couldn’t figure out how she could have hidden herself, but she was gone.
And she’d disappeared just when things had been getting interesting.
Maybe that was why she’d fled.
He swooped low over the river, then flew in a slow circle around his lair. There was no sign of his mate—beyond the half dozen white feather tips on the ground. He narrowed his eyes and used all of his senses, but it made no difference. She should have hit the ground hard. She should have been grateful for his last minute rescue. His ploy should have been a game-changer.
But he hadn’t had the chance to save her.
Hadrian was annoyed. He liked plans. He liked executing them flawlessly. He liked using his powers for good, and winning the agreement of his reluctant mate to satisfy the firestorm would definitely be for the good.
But she had a plan of her own.
Why did she want to kill him? It almost sounded as if she was on Maeve’s team, but that made no sense. She was a shifter, too, which meant she was included in the Dark Queen’s inventory of Others to be exterminated. She didn’t seem to be stupid. How could she have overlooked that?
He’d been surprised when she shifted shape the first time, when she’d become a beautiful and delicate swan. She was graceful and lovely, but there was a hard light in her eyes, one that followed her between forms. He’d known that she would finish him off without a heartbeat of remorse.
And then when she’d become a woman, she might have been his every fantasy come true. She was just as delicately made, her skin pale and her hair as fair as sunlight, but she was tall and strong. Her eyes were the glorious blue he recalled from their first encounter and her lips were full. But that fury in her expression had been undiminished.
There was no doubt that she’d happily cut out his liver and roast it for dinner.
How could his destined mate be an assassin determined to end his days?
Hadrian could have killed her in either form in self-defense. He might have done so if not for the combination of the firestorm’s light and the red string on her wrist. She wasn’t just his mate: she was in Maeve’s thrall. He’d learned to respect the Dark Queen’s powers. He knew that she could cast a spell to compel anyone to act against their own will—or arrange the situation so that making a deal was the only choice. He knew from personal experience that being bound to the Dark Queen’s command was horrific and that her bargains never ended in anyone else’s favor.
Killing him was probably what his mate had to do to gain her freedom. Hadrian couldn’t blame her for that.
But he wasn’t prepared to die just yet.
The white flame diminished to a glow, but it was still burning.
She hadn’t gone far.
Of course not. Her quest wasn’t completed.
Hadrian scanned his surroundings for a glimpse of her.
Nothing.
Well, nothing beyond what felt like a cold rock in his cheek. The place where she’d kissed him when they’d first met had become heavier and colder, like it had