was going to find out every single thing known about Semyaza.
And that might tell her more about one elusive, annoying vampire.
Hadrian whistled under his breath as he worked steadily on the gloves, making good progress. He had to use every possible moment. His phone chimed just as he reached a good point to take a break, and he checked the message.
It was from Quinn, thanking him for the images and notes. It was copied to Erik, the leader of the Pyr, which made Hadrian scroll down.
He caught his breath when he saw the prophecy that Sara had received. His firestorm was definitely real!
He righted his chair and sat down to read it.
The ice dragon summons frost and cold,
His power is a force to behold.
He can thaw the ice of a frozen heart
To offer a lost shifter a new start.
His firestorm burns fierce and white
Its radiance a beacon in the darkest night.
But can it bring hope to that doomed soul?
Or persuade his lost mate to become whole?
If the dragon wins the swan maiden’s trust
It will be Fae not Others who are turned to dust.
The future will be theirs, once allied
If the assassin joins the dragon’s side.
It all made sense. His mate had a red string on her wrist, so she was cursed by Maeve: that would make her a doomed soul. Was her heart frozen? Was that how she made her kills? That might just be a metaphor. She had warmed up a lot since they’d first met.
The big thing was that he’d been trying to convince her to give them a chance, and the prophecy indicated that he was on the right track: if he persuaded her to ally with him, they could change the tide of the battle against the Fae.
That was the best news Hadrian had heard in a while. He wanted to ask Alasdair more about his memories of Hadrian’s father’s firestorm, but had let his cousin sleep all day. It was time to rouse him. He turned down the fire in the forge and headed back into the lair.
It was time to eat something, too. He’d cook for the guys this time, and even the score.
Who knew—a good meal might even coax his mate to return.
Hadrian couldn’t wait to see her again, no matter what she tried to do to him.
Someone had been in her home.
Rania manifested in the kitchen, just as before, but this time, the air smelled different. The door was slightly open and it was colder inside. What kind of intruder left the door open?
A thief! Was he or she still in the house?
It was just sunset and the sky was streaked with orange. The shadows were long inside the house already.
Rania moved silently through the main floor, finding no signs of anyone. The house was still. She knew she wasn’t wrong, though: someone had been there. She finally eased open the door to the stairs leading to what had originally been the cellar, and paused at the light gleaming from the lower floor.
She hadn’t left it on.
Her collection, the only thing of value she possessed, was there.
Fortunately, there was only one way out of the lower level—unless the intruder was Fae or had similar powers to her own. That the kitchen door to the outside had been left ajar hinted otherwise. Rania took a kitchen knife and moved stealthily down the stairs, counting on the element of surprise.
There was a man standing in front of her collection, hands on his hips as he surveyed it. He was so motionless that he could have been a statue, but Rania could detect the faint sound of his breathing. She kept her collection in wall cabinets that she’d had custom-built, and she knew she’d left the doors closed and locked. They were flung open now, the light glinting off dozens of polished blades.
As far as she could see, the only missing weapons were the ones Hadrian had taken from her.
Who was this man? What was he doing in her home?
She took a silent step closer.
“Not the hobby I expected you to have,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling. He’d heard her approach and she couldn’t see that he was armed. He had to guess that she would be. Rania braced herself for a surprise.
He was tall and broad, built like a warrior, and his fair hair was tied back. It hung straight almost to his waist, a lot like her own hair except that Rania couldn’t decide whether his was silver or gold.