Chapter 7

Siena walked the length of her throne room slowly, her arms folded across her middle as she paced, her bottom lip between her teeth as she continued to mull over all that had happened to her recently. Any hopes she might have had about maintaining an air of normalcy had flown out the window the moment she had begun to approach the crowded receiving rooms laid out before her throne room. She knew she could never survive under such scrutiny, that she would go mad trying to maintain this sudden secret if forced to face a melee of her subjects. So she had made use of a lesser known and far lesser traveled route to her bedchamber. Since her return was not announced as it always was, no one awaited her there. She was able to dress discreetly and take other steps toward discretion.

The throne room and outer receiving rooms had been emptied at her command, a command that was reinforced with a low growl of annoyance when it was questioned as being unusual. Siena also knew that the garb she wore, a caftan of aquamarine silk, was also met with questioning eyes, the shining garment somewhat conservative for her as it reached her ankles and hooded her head.

But she was Queen, and it was very clear she would brook no questions and no hesitation to any of her orders. She had sent away all of her ladies and companions, all pages and advisors, leaving no one in her sphere save the two females that stood in the darker shadows of the room watching her movements. She was highly aware of their curiosity, and she could feel their stares upon her. Siena indulged in her court and her station quite richly. It was not at all like her to request such utter solitude. Even her guard remained outside of all the doors, rather than inside.

Siena tried to push it all away, even tried to push her thoughts outside of the sealed doors of the throne room she paced so rapidly and fiercely.

Syreena watched her sister pace, her bicolored features plagued with the same puzzled and bemused expression that had beset her since the moment she had caught the Queen in a most compromising embrace with, of all the beings in the world, the Demon Butcher himself. The man who had murdered their father. True, Syreena was more apt to see what the warrior had done as a favor, just as her sister and quite a few others did, but that one good deed of death would never make up for thousands of others over the centuries. There was not a breed amongst them that had not lost someone close beneath the Demon Butcher's sword. Siena had to be completely out of her mind to choose such a man as her mate.

That she had chosen to mate at all was astounding enough on its own. Though there was much Syreena did not know about her sister after living a hundred and thirty years in the Monastery of The Pride, she knew Siena was a woman who prided herself not just on her control of all things, but especially of her control over her monarchy. She had heard Siena preach on the ills and evils of hostile, aggressive males, and her loathing toward her own mother for choosing such a man and allowing him to take them into those three dark centuries of war. She had sworn she would maintain her virgin state until her death, passing the throne to a female heir, rather than mate with a male who would greedily claw at half her monarchy.

There was no mistake in Syreena's mind, however, that Siena had broken all of her own vows, and she had done it with a sweeping glory of irony. Syreena had seen them naked in each other's arms, the stubborn and passion-cold Queen and the merciless, destructive warrior, kissing with remarkable fervor and clearly mutually marked and bruised from what had no doubt been some very passionate lovemaking. Syreena still couldn't reconcile the image with what she knew her sister to be, with what her sister had drilled into her these fourteen years concerning the certain evils of men and monarchies mixing.

Perhaps Anya would have had a better insight into the entire occurrence, but Syreena had been sworn from sharing her knowledge with even the half-breed who knew every secret corner of the Queen's mind and heart. So the Princess was left to her baffled thoughts, trying to reconcile how such things could come to pass, and in such insignificant amounts of time. Of course, Syreena had always ignored her sister's prejudices toward men, being the one sister who actually craved husband, hearth, and heirs. She knew where all this anger came from and that Siena might be forced to reevaluate her opinions as she grew wiser … or more lonely, but the Princess would never have suspected such a tinderbox as this to light Siena's fuses and blow all her theories to hell. Syreena's pity warred with amusement, and she slipped farther back into the shadows so her sister would not sense her thoughts and feelings and grow incensed.

Anya heard Syreena's movement but kept her eyes fixated on the image of the royal female who paced around the room slowly, her arms wrapped around herself as if she were in need of comfort, her unusual silence worrying her and making her edgy and watchful.

"It is not like her to be so … Anya tried to put what she was seeing into words, glancing at Syreena for assistance.

"Withdrawn," Syreena supplied. "We are used to her coming directly to us when something confuses or disturbs her."

"What do you suppose happened?" Anya whispered.

"I cannot begin to guess," Syreena lied easily. "She looks pale. If I am not mistaken, she is sunsick."

"Siena?" Anya made a soft sound of disbelief. "Siena does not feel the sun like the rest of us."

"Nor do I, but that does not make me immune. Even those of us highly resistant to the normal speed of sun sickness will show the signs of it if exposed long enough," the Princess said quietly.

Syreena crossed her arms beneath her breasts, seemingly studying the hand-carved pattern of the stone floor beneath her feet.

"It is strange that she should spend all this time in solitude only to come back looking so disturbed," Anya remarked. "Something has happened to make her thus."

"I would not begin to speculate. She will tell us in her own time, I imagine."

Anya looked at the other woman, her foxy eyes narrowing keenly.

"Did you not see anything when you found her?"

Syreena turned her dual-colored eyes on the half-breed. "Such as?"

"I don't know," the half-vixen murmured. "I just have this feeling like something is off. She doesn't … smell right."

"If you say that too loud, you're going to find yourself on the opposite end of that leash after all," the Princess whispered. It made the other woman laugh. "We can only wait and trust she will come to one of us eventually to discuss whatever the matter is," Syreena added. "For the time being I will not take part in your penchant for gossiping."

"My gossiping has been quite useful to this court on many occasions," Anya rejoined. She then chuckled softly. "But I will tell you this, as far as the Queen seeking confidences goes, I find myself glad I am not the court advisor and the Queen's Counselor. Judging by the way she dismissed the court, whatever is pulling her tail is very likely political, and it clearly has her quite put out. Political aggravation falls into your advice-giving milieu. Mine is limited to her personal problems and her fighting forces. And for once I am quite grateful that she has no personal life outside of bitching about you."

"I will keep that in mind," Syreena said dryly.

Sienna was aware that her two closest attachés were whispering with their heads together, no doubt mulling over her behavior. She knew Syreena would not break the vow of silence she had sworn her to, so she was not worried about that. She was not prepared to discuss the matter with anyone yet. She was hardly prepared to even face it within her own thoughts.

The Queen continued to pace around the enormous room, occasionally rubbing her hands together, trying to warm them from the chill that seemed to go soul deep.

She was in trouble. That much was all too clear.

For beginners, there was the issue of her detached collar.

The collar was a work of legend and magic, stories of which everyone in the entire Lycanthrope society was raised on from infancy. Every member of the royal family wore the mystifying collars, each differing in shape and style by virtue of the wearer's rank and importance, from birth to ascension to death. They were a series of complex puzzles, these intricate pieces of jewelry, designed that way for very specific reasons. They expanded and decreased in size when the wearer altered form, never slipping free, always broadcasting the rank of their owner.

The legendary mysteries went deeper still. Firstly, only a member of The Pride could attach the collars. Only members of The Pride knew the secret to joining the complex links. This was so that the royal insignias could not be replicated or forged, or worn by anyone other than the rightful heirs to the throne. Though made of gold, they were enchanted, making them indestructible, so they could not be cut off by enemies or thieves or the monarchs themselves, for whatever reason. To add to the trick, the collars could not be removed by anyone in The Pride, the puzzles never working in reverse and their secrets impossible to unravel.

Siena had heard all of her life how her collar could only come off one of two ways. Either by the wearer being beheaded …

… or under the destined touch of the ruler's one true mate.

The mysticism claimed that only the touch of a perfect mate for a royal soul could free the collar. The male or female who performed such a task was destined to be wed to the collar's owner, and there was no arguing the point. Who else could unravel the impossible puzzle that wise men had toyed with unsuccessfully for thousands of years? Only one. A perfect one. A soul as royal and complementary as the collar's owner.

The very idea made Siena's stomach churn with nausea and a fear she had never known. Now that it had been removed, the collar could only be returned to the Queen's throat by the hands of a member of The Pride, or, if the legends were true, by the hand of the lover who had originally removed it. The puzzle was out of Siena's scope of knowledge and was purposely kept that way to keep the ruler who wore it from doing exactly what she was trying to do … hide the fact that she had taken a mate.

Her true mate, if legend had its truth.

"This is insane," Siena hissed under her breath as she turned to make yet another circuit around the room.

A Demon the destined mate of a Lycanthrope? What did it matter that they were so … so compatible? Chemistry and sexuality aside, there was more to ruling thousands of people then the ability to have good sex. She slid her hand into the pocket of her caftan, closing it tightly around the links of the collar. She marched up the steps of her throne and sat down, staring really hard at the whispering women across from her for a long minute.

Syreena might know how to return the necklace to its rightful place. She had lived amongst The Pride for over a century. Perhaps she had picked up the secret during her time there. But Siena knew she could not ask Syreena to betray her mentors. It would be like someone asking her to reinitiate the war. And now, more than ever, she had reason to despise the idea of such an abomination.

No! she cried out in her thoughts. There are no more reasons than there were before! That would intimate I have some sort of feelings for … and I do not!

The Queen was back on her feet and pacing a heartbeat later.

She needed a solution to this awful conundrum, and she needed one fast. There was no way she was going to introduce a Demon male of such infamous renown to her court, name him King, and sit him by her side! Such a warrior? The idea revolted against every good intention she had forged for her people in order to lead them into a brighter, more peaceful future. She had intended on ruling by herself until the day she died, and somehow she was going to find a way to continue that plan. She would hang herself before taking part in such an abomination against everything she stood for, and she would be damned before she would take that man back into to her bed!

Siena stopped in her tracks as searing agony clawed through her at the very thought. She could hardly breathe for the pain of it, and she clutched at the place over her womb that ached with the most intensity. She felt so hollow, so bereft of life and reason when she thought about abandoning Elijah for all time. He had promised it would not be the end, and, Goddess help her, she screamed with every molecule of her body for him to keep his promise.

Siena dropped to the floor with a sob, doubling over with the pain and nausea of self-betrayal. She knew she craved him, knew that her cells screamed for the nourishment of his hard, aggressive body around and inside hers. She had been taken to remarkable heights, unimaginable places of pleasure, and, like a fast-addicting drug, the idea of never returning to it was almost impossible to bear.

But she must find a way to bear it. She must break this spell, defy this magic of legend that claimed he was perfect for her. She had far more to consider than just her body. She had thousands of people who were counting on her to make the wisest and most considerate choices for their well-being that she could manage.

She had not been doing that when she had fallen into Elijah's arms. Unfortunately, a few days ago she had made the choice to save a man's life, and, it seemed, she hadn't made a single proper decision since then.

Siena was determined to change that.

It had been almost two days since she and the Demon had parted company. Yet she knew his presence still clung to her. She knew Anya must suspect something, even though she had yet to let her half-breed General close enough to get a good whiff of her. But it was more than that as well. It was as if the Demon warrior still followed her everywhere. Sometimes she imagined she could still feel his touch. In her mind. On her body. It haunted her, half memories and half fantasies, always leaving rivers of heat bleeding throughout her system in its wake. If this obsession was the nature of a mating, then she truly, more than ever, wanted no part of it. It made her mad to think of it, in terms of both sanity and temper.

As soon as she was through healing from her sun sickness, she was going to go to the Demon court and demand that Noah resolve these issues by making his Captain keep his distance from her.

Siena discarded that thought a moment after thinking it. The last thing she needed to do was go anywhere near where Elijah might be. Samhain was mere days away and she knew enough about Demons, thanks to Gideon, to know she would be tying the cat up in the doghouse if she went anywhere near their territory during that volatile time. The last thing she needed was to come up against the power of the Demon warrior's passion and irresistible seduction, magnified by the Hallowed moon to an intensity far beyond anything she had experienced so far.

She did not trust herself to resist him if she did.

Siena gained her feet once more, her hands sliding over her stomach as she paced, rubbing back and forth in a soothing motion that was habitual for her when she was uptight. But something had changed about the sensation, making it more sensual rather than comforting, as it had always been. It was because, she realized suddenly, she could feel his touch on her torso as keenly as if he was still administering it. Her breasts, belly, and hips seemed to burn with the imprint of his hands, to the point where she wondered why they did not glow brightly, the damning fingerprints showing themselves for all to see. She could still smell the masculine musk of his scent on her skin, and wondered if others were aware of it as well. Or was it just the madness of this untenable situation that made her believe in an illusion? She had bathed more than once since they had parted ways, and yet it would not leave her senses.

Truly, she must be going mad.

Siena crossed the room toward her throne once more, but could not sit in it. It was too symbolic of all the things at stake in the moment. She could not have sat still in any event. The Lycanthrope Queen resumed her pacing under the watchful eyes of her companions.

Isabella leaned over Elijah, brushing his damp hair off his forehead, biting her lip with concern. The warrior had been dreaming fitfully on and off since he had finally fallen into a restless sleep. It was an unusual occurrence for someone under Gideon's powerful sleep inducements. Usually the healing sleep was a still one, quiet and calm and allowing for the most healing in the shortest time.

The warrior had not answered any questions from those who were so perplexed by his state of injury and the clues from Bella's visionary trances of his activities during his disappearance. The healing of Elijah's wounds had been simple enough for the Ancient medic. Gideon had spent meticulous time extracting iron, bacteria, and a slew of other detriments to the healing process from the warrior's body. However, he was equally tight-lipped when others questioned him about the nature of the warrior's injuries and any suspicions he might have as to where the Demon had been all this time. All he would say was that they would have to ask Elijah themselves. It was cryptic enough to have more than one male pacing the marble floors down in the Great Hall.

Isabella should not have been there, what with Jacob still raw from the scolding he had received from her. She was perhaps meanly pushing his patience by spending all this time at the warrior's bedside. She had not meant to lose her temper, but was glad she had after all. Jacob was a brilliant man, sophisticated and wise with over six hundred years of life experience behind him. One would think such a man would be above something so petty as jealousy.

She tried to understand that having never known love before, Jacob had also never known jealousy. He had no experience with it and needed to learn just as anyone else would. But with his possessiveness fueled by a nature imbued with the temperaments and skills of all the animals of the earth, it would probably be quite some time before he came to grips with the volatile emotion. In the meantime, it was driving her up the bloody wall.

Since it had been a millennium since the last Druids had lived amongst the Demons, there was no one other than the long-lived Gideon who knew anything about them. Even he had been a fledgling at the time, a youth with only minimum knowledge about the Druids his people had been intent on destroying in the war at the time. A great deal of history had been rewritten since then. The truth was buried deep in the Demon library, and they had not yet begun to unravel the history of the Druids to be found there.

Along with the eradication of the Druids had come the reduction in instances of Imprinting. Demons Imprinting on one another, as Legna and Gideon had just done, was a one-in-a-million occurrence. It was now believed that all along, Destiny had intended the Demons would find their purest mates in the Druids, the very creatures they had systematically destroyed a millennium ago. It was written in a prophecy that had been lost to them for a thousand years.

No Druids, no Imprintings.

So, there was no standard in the current Demon generation for the behaviors and emotions a Demon would have to contend with during Imprinting. That meant, unfortunately, that they were walking around blindly, finding the answers as they went. Bella tried very hard to understand that. Jacob was a strong man, for all his sensitivity when it came to her well-being. He would learn to cope with it just as she would. She had no doubts that he would accept her help and eventually overcome. She should not have lost patience so easily.

Isabella heard the door open behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see a red head peeking into the room. Bella put a finger to her lips and gestured for the visitor to enter.

Corrine, Bella's sister and, amusingly enough, also her sister-in-law, entered the room and silently pulled up a chair beside her. She leaned forward so that they were almost touching foreheads, just as they had done all through their childhood when sharing secrets.

"I knew you'd be here," Corr said, picking out a single coil of her long red hair so she could nibble on it in an old nervous habit. "Jacob is going to throttle you."

"You worry about your husband, I'll worry about mine," Bella responded, her voice extremely hushed but clearly amused. Her violet eyes danced with irreverence. "Besides, my day is not complete without the daily Jacob lecture. I do hope his brother has better tolerance."

"Well, Kane was born over five hundred years after Jacob and wasn't brought up in the Stone Age." Corrine laughed softly. "So my husband tends to be a little more forward thinking than his brother."

Isabella grinned and impulsively reached out to grasp her sister's hand warmly. They had always been close, but after coming so near to losing Corrine a year ago, she had forged an even more powerful bond with her sister.

As mentioned earlier upon Corrine's arrival at the castle, Corrine had transformed from a regular human to a Druid/human hybrid just as her sister had after a brief encounter with her destined Demon mate, Kane. It was contact with a specific genetically appropriate Demon that triggered the birth of power in a Druid. Even a hybrid Druid. However, no one had even known hybrids existed until Isabella began to enter the process shortly after being exposed to Jacob. But Druids needed constant exposure to the triggering Demon from that first moment on, or they would become ill and "starve" to death.

Corrine had been deep into the starvation before they had realized what had happened. It had taken months of exposure to Kane for her to recover. Much in the way the victim of a serious accident had to go through extensive physical therapy, Corrine had been forced to develop far more gradually than the norm, recovering her power slowly over the past year.

This brush with death had been the glue that had reforged their already tight sisterly bond. Plus, they had often turned to each other as both had adapted to the lifestyle of a Nightwalker race as complex in culture as the Demons. They had also helped each other discover new ways to control and use their budding abilities.

"Does Kane know you are here?"

"No." Corrine gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Looks like both of our big, strong men are sleeping. One of the blessings of being half human is that we aren't driven to sleep in daylight as strongly as they are. What an awful feeling that must be, to be so lethargic that you have to sleep whether you want to or not."

"The same thing happens to humans. It's just not limited to daylight hours and we can sometimes push off the inevitable. I hear Gideon is at a point where he can remain awake all day without even a yawn."

"He is extremely powerful," Corr agreed, her awe clear in her voice. "So are you trying to get a premonition, or just playing nursemaid?"

"A little of both." Bella turned her head to frown at Elijah's sleeping form. "I have never seen him so weak. We can't get him to tell us anything. Gideon told Jacob that the wounds were not fresh, that the wound in his chest had obviously been healing for a couple of days before reopening. It looked as though it had been bandaged and that, when Elijah had transformed, he had left the bandage behind without taking it into account, reopening the injury."

"He's lucky he made it here alive. But that's a mistake I wouldn't expect an Elder Demon to make," Corrine remarked.

"I was thinking the same thing," Bella agreed, once more putting her head together with Corrine's. "Something happened to him."

"Yeah, well, that's obvious. I don't need a premonition to tell me someone kicked the shit out of him."

"No," Bella chided quietly. "I mean something else. Something that made him … act rashly. Make mistakes. And I have no idea what it was. I just keep seeing this image of cat's eyes. It's the only thing I get when I try to focus on this."

"I wish I could help, but my powers are limited to seeking Druids out. Maybe I could find his mate for him, but that's about it," her sister chuckled.

"Lord, don't say that out loud or you'll really send him into a coma. Elijah has been hiding from you ever since we figured out what your powers were."

"And Noah," Corrine added, making Bella giggle. "I swear, I have heard of gun-shy single men in my time, but these two take the cake. Then again, since I found the Druids Miranda, for Councilor Simon, and Yuri, for Yoshabel the medic, I have had only two other Demons seek me out for a search. Two out of thousands who know about my abilities by now."

"Some remember their history lessons about the Druidic Wars too well. It will take time, but they will come around." Bella rubbed her hands together as if they were chilled. "I wish I could control when these premonitions come. Right now it's like playing Russian roulette with a half-loaded gun. I've been here for half an hour clicking on empty."

"When you want them, they are nowhere to be found. When you don't, they are all over you. Reminds me of dating," Corrine quipped, making them both laugh.

"Well, something better happen soon. Jacob will wake shortly, and if I am here there will be hell to pay."

"Bell?"

Bella and Corrine both gasped softly and turned to look at the man lying in the bed. They both flushed, realizing they had pretty much forgotten he was there.

But Bella got over it instantly and moved to sit on the edge of Elijah's bed, taking up his hand eagerly as she leaned over him.

"Hey you, what the hell are you doing scaring the crap out of everyone like that?" she demanded.

"Good to see you too," Elijah said dryly, glancing up to see his second guest "Whoa, two gorgeous women. I've had this fantasy before."

"Ha! And probably not just in your imagination, if I know you," Bella teased, making the warrior smile in that roguish, cocky way of his that eased both women's worried hearts. Bella reached out to push back an errant blond curl once more, noting he was still pale in spite of a second blood transfusion. "How are you feeling?"

"Depends. Did you stop the jetliner that ran me over, or let it keep going?"

"Are you kidding? Who would want to upset three hundred underpaid, underappreciated business men on the way to a long, boring conference?"

Elijah laughed, reaching to take her hand from his hair. He briefly kissed her fingers, his fondness and gratitude clearly reflected in his emerald eyes.

"Thank you, by the way."

"Humph. I was just worried my daughter would be out a perfectly good Siddah if I didn't save your sorry ass."

"Then you haven't had the naming ceremony without me?"

"Elijah," Bella scolded. "Really! What do you take me for? We would never do such a thing. Not while you were missing." She reached with her free hand to push back his hair again, but he took that one in hand as well.

"Stop touching me," he said. "The last thing I need is your insanely jealous husband pounding the stuffing out of me.

Elijah pushed her hands into her lap.

Bella fisted her hands and stuck them onto her hips in a familiar gesture of exasperation.

"You know, I used to be a nurturing, affectionate person. My unreasonable, domineering husband has to learn to get a grip, Elijah. When are you all going to learn I will do what I want, when I want, and you all can bite me if you don't like it!"

"I believe biting would also be an unwise action considering your husband's unreasonable, domineering, and jealous behavior."

"Oops," Corrine whispered from behind her sister as all three of them turned to look at the husband in question.

Jacob was leaning in the doorjamb, arms folded over his chest, his dark, serious eyes lit with enough amusement to make Bella sigh in relief.

"Now, since when can you sneak up on me like that?" she demanded, getting up and hopping over to him so she could jump up into his embrace.

Thank you for not being a beast, she murmured into his mind.

Thank you for forgiving me for being such an idiot, he returned softly.

Jacob cuddled his little wife, scooping her up and burying his face in her silky hair and laughing. His dark eyes flicked up to look over her shoulder at Elijah, speaking volumes about how relieved he was to see his old friend awake.

Jacob released his wife and moved to Elijah's bedside, pulling up her abandoned chair to sit in and crossing an ankle over his knee once he was settled. Bella stood behind him, resting loose arms around his shoulders.

"Hello, old friend," Jacob greeted. "It's good to see you awake and alert."

"You have no idea," Elijah sighed, moving to sit up. He rested a hand briefly on his chest, noting the fresh pink skin that had replaced the wound.

"Are you able to tell us what happened to you?" Jacob asked.

Elijah nodded, his momentary hesitation going unnoticed by the trio of guests.

"I was ambushed by Ruth and Mary and about thirty necromancers and hunters. Talk about ‘Hell hath no fury …'" Despite the joke, Elijah's eyes were far too serious for his nature. "They nearly killed me."

"Jacob, ladies …

They all turned their attention back to the door at the summons just in time to see Gideon stepping over the threshold.

"I do not believe I gave leave for visitors," he remarked.

One thing they all knew not to do was gainsay Gideon about the well-being of a patient. They all stood up and immediately took their leave of Elijah. Jacob clasped his friend's hand briefly, and both women leaned to kiss him and tell him how happy they were he was back. They hustled out of the room past Gideon, Jacob shutting the door behind himself.

Gideon remained leaning against the wall opposite Elijah's bed, his silvery head bent slightly as he watched the warrior move to sit up. Elijah was not an idiot. He knew the Ancient Demon was on to something. But he wasn't going to help him out in any fashion. He would let Gideon put down his cards first.

And Gideon was nothing if not direct.

"You were tended for at least two days," Gideon said. "Why did you go into a metamorphosis, risking your life just to get here? You should have stayed where you were until you were much stronger."

"I couldn't," Elijah looked away from the medic just long enough to catch Gideon's sharp attention. It helped confirm something he had already begun to guess at.

Elijah's hand curled into a fist as he felt the Ancient's gaze resting on him with calm patience. Still coming awake after such a long sleep, Elijah might not have been aware of many details about the past few days, but he sure as hell remembered his encounter with Siena. And he realized he carried evidence of that even to this moment in spite of his efforts to conceal it.

"I realize it is not my business, but I am aware of the change in your scent and will not pretend otherwise," Gideon mentioned quietly. "I am also familiar with that scent. As much as I am familiar with the make-up of Lycanthrope blood when I see it in a body it does not belong in."

"Has anyone else…?"

"If they took note, they did not mention it. It is possible they overlooked it, but I would not bet large sums of money on it." Gideon paused long enough to brush a thoughtful hand at some invisible piece of lint on his trouser leg. "The female's scent is Siena's, is it not?"

"Don't play games with me, medic," Elijah said bitterly. "You know exactly who it is and don't need to ask me useless questions."

"I do," Gideon admitted. "As improbable as it seems."

"Believe me, I am as shocked as you are," Elijah admitted with a sigh. "It gets worse, Gideon." Elijah laughed humorlessly. "The beautiful Lycanthrope Queen wants nothing further to do with me. So if you planned on setting the Enforcers on me for breaking the law or giving me some sort of purity lecture, I might take that fact into consideration if I were you."

The silver-haired Ancient did not respond immediately, instead studying the warrior's expression and noting the strain around his attempts to brush off how much he was affected by the situation he found himself in.

"Siena may not have much choice in the matter, Elijah," he informed him quietly.

"I am sorry?" Elijah wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly. He sat forward slightly, meeting the medic's unwavering gaze. "Explain that."

"There are very distinct rules governing Siena's fate."

"Yeah. I know. One mate only. A rule she feels doesn't apply to a lowly Demon male such as myself." Elijah's sarcasm was sharp, but not directed anywhere other than his own bruised ego.

"I do not believe that is her decision to make. Destiny—"

Elijah's sharp laugh cut the Ancient off.

The warrior moved out of bed, shedding the bedding and reaching into the closet for pants and a shirt. At least these would fit him because they were his, left behind for the frequent times he was a guest in Noah's house and in this room. He was shrugging into a white moiré satin shirt when he finally turned back to Gideon.

"Don't talk to me about Destiny, Gideon. If you ask me, it sucks pretty royally at the moment." Elijah jammed the tails of the shirt into his trousers.

"You truly do not know what has happened?" Gideon asked, looking puzzled.

The remark gave Elijah pause. He halted in the middle of buttoning a shirt cuff to look at the other man.

"Do you think you could do me the favor of keeping the cryptic statements to a minimum?" Elijah asked, ignoring the sudden, anticipatory thrum of his heart.

"Elijah, you have to be the first Demon male I have encountered who does not recognize the effects of an Imprinting for what they are."

Now that definitely got the Warrior Captain's attention.

"Imprinting? Are you out of your silver head?" Again, that embittered laugh. "Between a Demon and a Lycanthrope?"

"As improbable as an Imprinting between a Druid and a Demon was a year ago," Gideon mused, "but here we are nonetheless."

Elijah forced himself to fight back the surge of excitement and hope that inexplicably rushed through him.

"Explain why you think … just explain," he demanded.

"You mean other than telling you that I can see it plain as day in your body chemistry? That had Jacob sat there a few minutes more, he would have noticed you carry the scent of a woman all over you despite your attempts to cleanse yourself of it? Or perhaps I might mention the fact that your hair has changed color."

Elijah's eyes widened and he turned back to the closet to look into the mirror hanging on the door.

Sure enough, his hair had changed to a uniformly gold color, identical to that of the Lycanthrope woman he had recently made love to. It shocked him that no one had noticed outside of Gideon. It shocked him, period.

"Your hair was wet when they first saw you. And frankly, they were far more concerned with your health than the color of your hair," Gideon informed him.

"Damn," Elijah whispered, running fingers through the waved strands of gold. Bella had even touched it and hadn't noticed. "But I thought Imprinting changed a woman's eyes. Siena's eyes are as gold as ever, I assure you."

"The Imprinting is marked by three very distinct traits, Elijah. The first is an uncontrollable desire between the male and the female. One that cannot be resisted for long, and absolutely not at all on the Hallowed moons of Beltane and Samhain, sometimes even the Solstices." The Demon raised a silvery brow. "I believe it is safe to say you and Siena have met that criterion?"

"Yes," Elijah admitted quietly.

"For your second sign, though it is true the female of an Imprinting often takes on the eye color of her intended mate, sometimes it is hair color or even their mate's powers. And the change can come to either the male or the female. It is exactly this kind of alteration, I assure you," he said, indicating the warrior's hair. "In my case, Legna gained my eye color. As for the Enforcers, and Kane and Corrine, in their cases, with a Demon/Druid Imprinting, it is the awakening of the Druid's powers that takes place."

"And the third is the telepathy between the couple," Elijah finished for him. "The ability to be in constant mental contact with the other person." Elijah made a sound of frustration, smacking an abusive palm into his forehead. "Now I understand why I feel like I can still hear her voice. Why we always seemed to know what the other was thinking or feeling without saying anything. I don't know why I didn't notice it myself."

"It takes time for it to become strong between Druids and Demons. Perhaps it is the same for any Imprinting across species."

Elijah laughed at that, but the sound was terribly painful and Gideon felt a reflexive response in the back of his mind from his wife. Hard as she tried, she could not cut herself off from him completely, and he felt that she had wanted to leave them in privacy. It was one of her foibles, this notion of privacy, that he would not understand any time soon. Privacy was not a Demon concept. It was a human one. Where she had picked it up was beyond him.

Do not worry, sweet, he assured her softly. He will recover from this shock just as you did when you discovered I was to be your mate.

Who said I recovered? she teased him. But he felt the sadness beneath her humor. It will be so hard for them, for so many reasons.

It always is, he agreed gently.

Gideon turned his full attention back to the warrior. He had moved to a window and was staring down at the manicured grounds outside of it.

"Correct me if I am wrong, but isn't this whole thing against the law?" he asked, a corner of his mouth lifting in a wry smile.

"That did not stop you from taking her to your bed," Gideon remarked.

Elijah swore softly, the sharp term aimed at Gideon's cold attitude. "Is there anything you don't have an answer for?" he bit out.

"Elijah, I am being direct for a reason," Gideon said. "The Hallowed moon of Samhain is not five nights away. You will not be able to keep from her on this night. You do realize this, do you not?"

Elijah's answer was another bluish string of words. His temper got the better of him and he grabbed the nearest object and threw it across the room, where it shattered against the stone wall.

"Damn! Damn it!" Elijah whirled to face the medic, his fists clenched so tightly they were turning white. "She's going to hate me. Do you understand that? You know her better than any of us and you know she is going to hate me for this."

"Only in the beginning," Gideon assured the other man with surprising gentleness. "And it will be resistance and fear, not hatred. Trust me on this."

Elijah understood what the Ancient was telling him. He had been through this very situation himself. He'd had to win his mate over on many levels himself.

Her. Her friends. Her family.

But the difference was, all of Legna's friends and family knew about the permanence of the Imprinting and the futility of fighting it. Siena might know something about it from what she had heard and seen from Gideon and Legna living in her court, but experiencing it firsthand was going to be difficult, and explaining it to a society who didn't believe in such things was going to be nearly impossible.

"I will do what I can to help, Elijah," Gideon offered magnanimously. He had known Siena the longest of them all, a fact Elijah tried not to feel slighted by. But if anyone could make her see light, it would be Gideon.

"I appreciate that. And do it soon, Gideon. I need to see her, to talk to her. Before I end up tearing into her bedroom with nothing but animal lust on my mind. She has to understand this. If she doesn't …" Elijah turned back to his window, sighing as he rested his forehead against the glass. "If she doesn't, to her mind I will be taking her against her will."

Gideon understood that better than Elijah thought he did. Siena was made of proud and stubborn stuff. As long as she resisted the inevitable, any move Elijah made toward her would be seen as hostile. The more that happened, the harder it would be to regain the lost ground and connect them. The worst shortcoming of an Imprinting was that it usually occurred close to those urgent holy days. It was as if nature was giving them a few days to get a grip, but would have her way in the end. And that end would come quickly.

"She found me in the forest, frightened away my attackers before they could finish me off. She carried me to shelter, tended my wounds, fed and cared for me …" Elijah paused to flick a startling emerald gaze up to the medic. "And then she turned my entire existence inside out. What a hell of a way to thank her for her hospitality." He paused, rubbing a finger at a smudge on the window. "And what about Jacob? Noah? The law? Remember? ‘The dog does not lie with the cat. The cat does not lie with the mouse.' And that's only one out of about a dozen purity laws this is breaking. "

"The Imprinting is not something you can resist or avoid, so if it has happened, you can hardly be held to blame," Gideon remarked. "If you recall, there are a great many laws we have needed to rethink over this past year. If we have learned one thing this annum, it is that our ancestors tended to interpret prophecy the way they wanted it to be interpreted. We may not be the dogs to her cats, Elijah. She is a powerful Nightwalker female. She is intelligent and just as prone to her animal instincts as we are. She may have different traditions, but her people celebrate the exact same holy days we do. It may turn out that we were never any more different from one another than we allowed ourselves to be."

"But Jacob …"

"As I recall, there was a night about a year ago where you stopped Jacob from making what, by law, was an enormous mistake. That law has since changed. Elijah, our world as we know it is in flux. None of us who are your friends will beat you with criticism. This is a time of temperament and change. A time of special destinies. You would do well to remember that."

Gideon lowered his head and lifted a corner of his mouth in a smile as his wife's praise for his uncommon tolerance whispered through his thoughts.

"I would, however, make a point of speaking to Noah relatively soon," he added. "It would be better coming from you as soon as possible … before someone else figures it out."

Elijah turned to look at the Ancient. After a moment, he simply nodded.