Chapter 1
Chapter
One
Wylder
Present
Wylder stared at Silva silhouetted in the open front door, blood dripping from the end of his sword and looking hotter than anything Wylder had ever seen. Silva didn’t even have a hair out of place.
The same feeling he’d had when he woke to find Silva standing in his bedroom overtook him—a deep warmth blooming in the center of his chest and racing through his body.
It left no room for darkness. No room for doubt.
Somehow—and Wylder still wasn’t sure how, exactly—but somehow he knew Silva was his mate. He was sure of it.
Up until the night before, he’d never considered the possibility of having a mate.
He knew some humans dreamed of a paranormal spotting them and marking them as their own, but that was rare.
But it turned out, Wylder wasn’t entirely human.
A fact he hadn’t known at all until Sigurd told him the truth about his mother and his Fae father.
A father that Sigurd had never even met.
“Couldn’t leave any for the rest of us?” Wylder said, relief and irritation fighting for dominance in his chest. He hadn’t actually wanted to fight fanatics first thing in the morning, but he wasn’t thrilled Silva had slipped out and joined the fight without them.
“Merely an appetizer. I’m sure there’ll be plenty to go around when we get to the entrée.
” Silva smirked, stepping over the half-burnt, groaning vampire at his feet.
He wiped the blood from his sword with a cloth he pulled from a pocket of his leather jacket a moment before the sword vanished into thin air.
“That’s a neat trick,” Wylder said, appreciation bleeding through his voice despite himself.
Silva may be his mate, but he still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Lusting after a man he just met was one thing, but actually accepting that they were somehow fated?
Entirely another. Not to mention, if Silva felt the same pull, he had yet to show it.
“Is everyone whole?” Lenette strode up the stairs, a dark cloak covering her from head to toe.
Older vampires had a varying tolerance for the sun.
For some, it was their gift to be able to walk in direct sunlight.
Lenette’s gift was knowing who was fated for who.
Wylder wondered what she saw when she looked at him and Silva.
“We’re whole,” Sigurd answered, pulling back from the embrace he’d wrapped Jaime up in.
Behind Lenette, Derek snarled. Ansel—the vampire who’d stalked Jamie and attacked them—grabbed onto his leg as Derek moved toward the door.
With his other leg, Derek kicked Ansel in the face, knocking the downed vampire off him and into unconsciousness.
Looking back over his shoulder at whoever else was outside, Derek said, “Get him locked up at the compound.”
Two other Hellhounds came into view at the top of the stairs, picking Ansel up between them and carrying him back down and out of view.
Wylder moved toward where Lenette and Silva were now standing with Sigurd and Jaime. Derek joined them a moment later, a low growl still rumbling out of his throat.
Sigurd nodded at Lenette as she lowered her hood. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.”
“Of course.” She glanced around. “What do we know?”
It was Silva who spoke. “Ansel’s been planning this for a while, and he apparently has a gift similar to yours.
He saw Jaime in Chicago, realized he’s Sigurd’s mate, orchestrated getting him sent here, and planned this attack once Jaime was here so Sigurd would know what it was like to have a mate only to lose them.
” Silva crossed his arms. “Oh, and there’s another group trying to open the door to my home realm. ”
Lenette frowned. “I’ll contact Chicago. Find out who suggested Jaime come here. It didn’t seem suspicious because the leader there is my son, but they or someone connected to them must have been working for Ansel.”
“There was a witch I knew from my job. She spoke to me every time she came into the store. When I told her I was being stalked by my vampire ex, she suggested going to the Council.” Jaime took a small step closer to Sigurd. “If that helps.”
“It does. Thank you, Jaime.” Lenette looked at Silva. “What do you want to do?”
“Call Kerak. We need to have a meeting. Then I’m going after them.”
Silva
“And I’m coming with you.”
Silva’s insides turned to ice at Wylder’s words. Dropping his arms to his sides, he turned to stand face to face with his mate.
Wylder’s chin was up, gorgeous turquoise eyes hard with determination.
“Wyld—” Sigurd started before Wylder held a hand up.
“No. You’ve all hidden this from me for thirty years. My mother died closing that door, and now these people are coming after me, trying to open it again. I’m not going to sit idly by when I could be doing something about it.”
“So you want to play right into their hands instead?” Silva couldn’t let this happen. He needed Wylder safe and hidden away.
“In case you haven’t noticed”—Wylder spread his arms wide, motioning to the overturned table and the black singe marring the concrete outside the open door—“I’m already in it. We don’t even know for sure that they know about me.”
“Wylder.” It was the first time Silva had said his mate’s name. It felt good on his tongue.
“No—” Wylder started, but Sigurd stepped closer, lifting his hand and cutting him off.
“I don’t like it either, Silva”—a surge of gratitude for his friend went through him—“but…it’s as much his fight as anyone’s.
Moreso, perhaps.” Sigurd lowered his voice.
“Only the four of us know how the door works. As long as they don’t know who he is, he’ll be as safe with you as he would be anywhere. ”
The appreciation he’d been ready to express turned to ash in his mouth. Sigurd didn’t realize that not everything was as it had been when Silva arrived that morning. Didn’t know what Silva had discovered when he went to wake Wylder. If he did, he wouldn’t be asking Silva to agree to this.
“Let’s table this for now. I’ll call Kerak so we can get a plan together.” Lenette glanced between them all, meeting Silva’s eyes last with a knowing look.