There was a long beat of silence before he exhaled, long and low. “I don’t think badly of you. And .
. . I don’t want to turn you down.”
Heat curled in her chest, then moved lower as her body awakened, seeming to suddenly realize what she’d been talking about all along. Sex. With Lucius. Although subsequent events hadn’t allowed her to dwell on the memories, their one spontaneous, somewhat rushed coupling in the archive had lit her up like nothing had done before, not even being with the far more polished Michael when the two of them had both been running hot with transitional hormones and their first taste of sex magic. Where Michael had been skilled and considerate, Lucius had been raw, teetering on the borderline of control.
Where Michael had held a portion of himself apart out of necessity, Lucius had been entirely there with her, making her feel as if there hadn’t ever been anybody else for him, never would be; that he didn’t see her as support staff, a backup, or a fill-in for what he’d really wanted.
Would it feel that way again? Only one way to find out, she told herself, blood humming suddenly in her veins. “Well . . . if I’m offering, and you’re not turning me down, why are we still standing here?”
Clothing rustled again as he closed the distance between them. His body heat caressed her lightly, bringing an answering stir of warmth within her. Touch me like you did that day in the archive , she wanted to say, but was afraid to because he’d told her flat out that his feelings for her had changed.
Tonight wasn’t about them; it was about the Prophet.
“Light a fox fire,” he said. “Just a small one.”
It was one of the few small magics she commanded, and one that had fascinated him, especially when she had sent it dancing from her hand to his and back again. Thinking that was what he wanted, that this was foreplay of a sort, she cupped one hand and used the power of the equinox to call the magic. A tiny light kindled, starting pinpoint-small and then expanding outward to a ball of cool blue flame that lit just her and Lucius. She looked up at him, smiling, expecting to see his remembered joy in the minor spell.
Instead, serious eyes looked at her out of a stranger’s face.
“Gods! ” Jade jerked back, shock hammering through her. “Who . . . ? What the—” She broke off, realizing that he wasn’t a stranger, not really.
The man standing opposite her resembled Lucius, but he wasn’t for an instant the man she’d known.
He was perhaps what Lucius would have been if he’d gotten the big-and-burly genes of his brothers and father along with the tall-and-borderline-willowy set he’d inherited from his mother’s side.
Combined, they had yielded a frame that was only maybe an inch taller than that of the man she’d known, but carried twice the mass in muscle, all of it layered onto bone and sinew as though sculpted there. He was wearing new-looking jeans; she doubted his newly powerful thighs would’ve fit into the old ones. The T-shirt with the bar logo was familiar, but there was nothing familiar about the way the shirt stretched across his chest and arms, and hinted at a ripple of muscle along his flat abs.
And his face . . . gods, his face. Features that had been pleasantly regular before were sharper and broader now; his jaw was aggressively square, his formerly borderline-too-large nose had come into perfect proportion, and high cheekbones and broad eyebrows framed hazel eyes that she knew, yet didn’t. He watched her with an unfamiliar level of intensity as he held out his right hand, palm up, so the fox fire lit the dual marks on his right forearm: the black Nightkeeper slave mark and the red quatrefoil hellmark of the Xibalbans. She’d seen them before, of course, but back then the marks had seemed out of place, magic unwittingly imposed on a mere human. Now, though, they looked . . . right. As though they belonged.
Jade didn’t know why the sight made her want to break and run.
“Well?” he asked her softly.
“You look . . .” She trailed off, not sure he’d be flattered by her first few responses, which involved steroids and testosterone poisoning, clear evidence that her scientific, analytical side was trying to buffer the shock. So she went with, “different.”
In fact, he looked amazing, reminding her of the long lunches she’d spent at the Met on her student pass, wandering through the Greek and Roman art galleries and imagining the carved marble and cast bronze coming to life in a raucous stampede down Fifth Avenue. He was that perfectly imperfect—
human, yet something more now. And that more had her nerves skimming beneath her suddenly too-
sensitive skin.
It’s just Lucius , she told herself. Only it wasn’t. He’d broken the rule that said people didn’t fundamentally change. And—oh, gods—she’d offered herself to him. More, she’d fought the whole damn royal council long distance for the opportunity, and she’d brushed aside Strike’s and Anna’s concerns when they had tried to tell her that he wasn’t himself. In her rush to finally escape from her backup role, she’d thrown herself headlong at . . . what? What was he now? He didn’t command the Prophet’s ability to reach the library, yet there was clearly magic at work, changing him into something more than himself.
“Not exactly what you were expecting when you volunteered for sex-magic duty, was it?” he asked, his eyes dark and inscrutable.
“I . . .” What was wrong with her? Where had her words gone? She was the one with the answers, the cool-blooded scribe who didn’t get rattled. But right now her body was saying one thing, her spinning brain another, and her verbal skills had gotten lost in the cross fire.
His not-quite-familiar mouth curved in a humor-less smile. “That’s about what I figured. I wish they had warned you.”
That, at least, she could respond to. “They tried. I wasn’t listening. But . . . you could’ve called me, or e-mailed.” She’d posted her contact info in the mansion’s kitchen, just in case. “I hate thinking of you going through all this alone.”
“I haven’t been in the mood for company.”
Feeling her magic—or maybe her nerve—fading, she let the fox fire go out, plunging them back into darkness that shouldn’t have been as much of a relief as it was. But it was easier not to look at him as she said, “What are you in the mood for?”
“That, dear Jade, is entirely up to you.”
Praise for the Novels of the Final Prophecy
“Raw passion, dark romance, and seat-of-your-pants suspense all set in an astounding paranormal world—I swear ancient Mayan gods and demons walk the modern earth!”
— New York Times bestselling author J. R. Ward
“Andersen’s got game when it comes to style and voice. I love [this] kick-ass series . . . a mix of humor, suspense, mythology, and fantasy . . . a series that’s sure to be an instant reader favorite, and will put Andersen’s books on keeper shelves around the world.”
—Suzanne Brockmann on WritersareReaders.com
“I deeply enjoyed the story. It really hooked me!”
— New York Times bestselling author Angela Knight
“Part romance, mystery, and fairy tale . . . a captivating book with wide appeal.”
— Booklist
“[A] nonstop, action-intensive plot. . . . Ms. Andersen delivers a story that is . . . [a] solid romance and adventure novel. If you enjoy movies like Lara Croft . . . or just want something truly new, you will definitely want this.”