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T he message from Stella instructed him to meet in her room at two. Raphael planned to hunt her down sooner, especially after the conversation he just left.

He'd made a grievous error in underestimating Kat. He ignored her movements while Gabriel slashed his way across the playing board like a fool. Now? Her power was greater than his own. Worse was that she knew Layla was a weakness of his, and in endangering her, she forced him to split his focus from his task.

It was a brilliant move and he hated her for it.

If she finds out about Stella...

Raphael swallowed thickly as he picked up his pace, his body riddled with anxiety. He couldn't even begin to think of all the wretched ways Kat would use such intelligence against him. He needed a new plan—yesternight. Raphael's jaw worked, molars clenching together as he tried to determine the best step forward.

Nix turning Stella . He couldn't risk the chance that she wouldn't survive. It would only make him more vulnerable and leave Layla more defenseless. Raphael sucked in a breath and held it tight in his chest. He had worked too hard to lose it all now, and yet he couldn't shake the feeling that was exactly where he was headed.

And he had no idea how to stop it.

The voices of courtiers milling about buzzed in his ears. Raphael felt their eyes on him as he struggled to right his breathing. Before he knew what he was doing, he took refuge in the nearest unlocked room. His hand groped for a light switch until, with a flicker from above, light illuminated the room. Raphael grimaced at the supply closet, its air damp and heavy with the scent of cleaning supplies.

It was the second night in a row he found himself in one and in a state of panic. Raphael didn't take it as a good sign. He rubbed his face with both hands and released a frustrated roar.

"Get it under control, mate," he seethed at himself and began to pace. "Focus on the big picture. Staying alive. To do that, you need to succeed, and when you do, you'll get what you've always wanted and—" Raphael cut off his rant, but the words he almost said still populated his mind.

Become a full demon.

His gut clenched. Gods, why did it clench? Raphael pushed up his sleeves, trying to alleviate a fraction of the tension running through him. Even still, his breath sawed out of him. His reaction infuriated him. Becoming a full demon was what he wanted; it meant safety for him and Layla. It meant respect. It meant after five years of being the dog everyone kicked, he would finally prove his worth.

It was more than he could say he'd ever done in his human life.

"Fuck," Raphael uttered the oath to the ceiling, staring at the dingy lightbulb until his eyes burned.

He looked away with dark spots filtering through his vision. There was a way out of this mess. Raphael knew there had to be one; he just hadn't thought of it yet. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

The easiest way to ensure Layla's safety for the time being was to remain in the Demon Quarter far away from the Medici and Veles' throats. When it came time for her to make her delivery, he would be there to escort and protect her. It was all he could do for now.

As for Stella...

Raphael sighed roughly and let his hand drop and eyes open. His fate was tied to hers, which meant he needed her alive. Thinking otherwise was another grievous error to add to his list.

Yet, the unwanted truth of the matter was also the key to his predicament.

Keeping her alive meant he would need to convince Irial of that as well. He would need to make him see that keeping Stella alive would be beneficial to their Lord's plans.

Raphael barked out a bitter laugh and dragged a hand through his hair then over a horn. It would never work…

It might be with the right leverage. His pulse began to race. It was a wild idea, but he might just be able to pull it off. The only question that remained was what leverage could hold enough weight to entice Irial? The hairs on the back of his neck lifted as a moment of clarity washed over him.

He was the leverage. Or rather, his newfound power.

A flash of irritation, hot and stinging reverberated through his bloodstream. Raphael hissed, but his mind was awhirl as it latched onto the idea. If he couldn't persuade Irial that Stella was more useful alive, he would offer up himself as the demon's hybrid. They could use his magic however they wished for their Lord's cause and—

"Gods damnit," Raphael yelped as a flash of heat ignited at his sides.

Raphael's eyes widened in shock. His hands were on fire. Literally.

"What the…" He shook both hands, but the flames remained. I should have read that damn book. "Get off! Stop!"

His mysterious magic ignored his command and whipped the flames into a higher frenzy. In seconds, his leather gloves disintegrated and fell to the floor in small twin burning heaps. He stomped out the fire, panicked gaze flicking from his gloves to his hands.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! "

Raphael flapped his hands in earnest, keeping them far away from his body as the building heat of the flames left him in a sweat. Fear and wonder struck him as his wrists and hands turned to charcoal and rivulets of embers cracked his skin without a hint of pain. His mouth fell open. The strange, magnificent power in him pulsed in the heart of his palms.

As his fear ceded to wonder, Raphael failed to notice the glowing ash that flaked from his fire-dressed hands onto the cleaning supplies. The blistering scent of danger hit the inside of his nose first then stung his eyes. He coughed reflexively. He squinted as smoke from something other than his hands rapidly filled the small space.

Raphael began to sputter and brought a fist to his mouth, as he did, his newfound magic fizzled out.

Instinct left him fleeing the supply closet. He continued to hack and wheeze into the hall, drawing the attention of passersby. Raphael met the gaze of one such attention-drawn courtier. Their expression was one of confusion and astonishment. They wavered between looking at Raphael and behind—

BOOM!

Startled cries and demands for sorcerers to contain the fire spilled out throughout the hall. Raphael fought to compose himself as he strode away from the scene. His lungs and eyes wouldn't easily forget the noxious fumes, but they calmed the more distance he put between himself and the eruption.

Raphael allowed his feet to take him where they saw fit. Someone would surely come to interrogate him about what happened later, but for the moment he would be saved from such formalities.

His pace increased as the last remnants of the abrasive chemicals left his system. Raphael rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck, his stride turning into a prowl as he began to search the crowded halls in earnest for a familiar head of white hair. As if fate decided to play a hand in his favor, he spotted her around the next corner.

Raphael came to a stop.

A courtier knelt before her on both knees. Tears streamed freely down their face as they held out their hands beseechingly toward her. Stella regarded them with a sympathetic frown. She crouched to meet them at their level and placed a hand on their shoulder as they continued to weep. Raphael watched her lips move with rapt attention.

They were painted black like they had been the night of the Lunar Court's ball, only without the glitter.

His throat bobbed as she straightened, and the sympathy ebbed from her features to cool indifference. Stella's head cocked to the side as the courtier continued to ramble, but her expression didn't waiver. Raphael couldn't take his eyes off her. She wore an all-black ensemble, some corseted top with tight pants eaten up by knee-high boots, making her look like the part of Death's most loyal emissary.

Then she was turning away from the courtier and walking in his direction.

Stella's shoulders rolled back as she weaved between courtiers, either ignorant to the stares that followed her fluid exit or masterfully playing aloof. He wondered if she knew how much subtle power and confidence she exuded in that moment. Several eyed her in appreciation. Others were in pleasant surprise as the courtiers' wailing redoubled and she walked on unphased. The rest paid her no mind, too busy in their own worlds to appreciate what Stella was becoming.

A contender.

After a consistent track record of falling to pieces alongside every death she pronounced, the woman treading the hall was someone new altogether. Raphael's mouth dried as their eyes met and held. Stella slowed to a stop, her eyes never leaving his. For a beat, they only stared at one another. A tingle ran over Raphael's soulmark and then he closed the distance between them like they were magnets.

Her eyes ran up and down him. "What happened to you?" There was a roughened quality to her voice like her words were being dragged over gravel.

Raphael glanced down at his hands. They were still covered in soot halfway up his forearms. "Would you believe me if I said I got into a fight with a supply closet?"

"If you told me it won, I would." A spark of mischief lit up her eyes, an easy smile ghosting over her lips.

This Stella was even more different up close. Maybe she did know of her power and her subtle confidence wasn't some show. The longer he stared the more he believed it to be true.

How did she go from timid mouse to woman in the span of a couple of nights? Raphael's mind couldn't fathom it, but it made no difference to his body. It instantly craved to know the difference more intimately and see what kind of noises this Stella would make underneath his touch—

No . Raphael shut down the fantasy quick to rise in his head. It's the soulmark manipulating you. Get a grip.

"You summoned me," Raphael found himself saying in a low-pitched voice.

Stella wore a bemused expression. "I did… but not for a couple more hours." She angled to move past him, but Raphael stepped into her path.

"I'm busy later."

Trading her bemusement for chagrin, Stella sighed softly. "Okay. Follow me."

Eyes traced their journey the entire way to Stella's room, a fact that he was sure they were both aware of. Yet only Raphael was agitated by it. He had his hands clasped behind his back to keep their fidgeting at bay while Stella walked on unbothered.

"I assume from your message that you have the grimoire for me," Raphael said once they were safe inside her room.

Stella meandered to the other side of the room before facing him and responding. "Not exactly." Irritation set his teeth grinding. "I have a bargain for you. The grimoire in exchange—"

"You attaining the grimoire and bringing it to me was already the deal."

"No, it was what you demanded. There was no deal. No discussion."

Raphael took a step forward, eyeing her with disbelief. "Because there was no discussion to be had over the matter. If we can't find some spell in there to protect us, we're both dead."

Stella's jaw worked as she struggled to maintain her cool composure before him. "That's not quite true."

"Oh? Last we talked, it was you who said that if one of us goes, the other is soon to follow."

"The other person would go insane. It's the insanity that leads to their death in some form or another later," Stella corrected him.

He blinked in astonishment. "I'm sorry, but are you saying you're willing to go insane if I die?"

Stella shrugged, her chin tilting up a fraction. "It won't be a new experience for me." Raphael's astonishment nose-dived. He didn't know where to begin unpacking that statement or the way it made his heart contract. "As far as being protected from whoever wants me dead, I'm more than capable of handling myself with my set of powers. I also have the Vranas." Stella took a deep breath before continuing, holding eye contact with him as she stood her ground. "The way I see it, with your limited abilities you're the one who needs the extra protection from the grimoire. Not me."

Comprehension evaded Raphael for several seconds that seemed to ebb for an eternity. What the hell is happening?

Stella barreled on, "You do have Jax. He could offer you protection like the Vranas will me. Unless you're not as close as you say you are?"

"Of course, we're close. He's like a brother to me," Raphael replied sharply. "But the grimoire—"

"Isn't necessary. We have options."

"Which are all shit and of which you conveniently have more of."

Stella didn't waiver. "They're not ideal, but I'm willing to live with them."

"Clearly," he muttered in anger as he found himself backed into a neat little corner. Raphael crossed his arms. He didn't have a choice but to yield. "What's this bargain you have prepared then?"

A flash of victory flashed over Stella's face before she could contain it. The sight relieved Raphael to know she wasn't the epitome of cool composure she presented.

"I'll get you the grimoire if we complete the marking here and now."

He glowered his focus solely on the first part of her bargain. "You don't have it?" The question came out more menacing than he intended but there was nothing to be done about it. He was furious. This wasn't how the night was meant to play out.

"No," she replied simply. "But I will. I'm good for my word."

They stared each other down in blistering silence. "Why the marking?"

Stella's mouth opened but quickly shut. A suggestion of deeper thought tickled her brow before she replied. "I have my reasons."

Silence followed her short answer. One that Raphael allowed his growing anger to fill. Without thought, he began to close the distance between them. Stella's body drew taut, and her eyes narrowed in preparation for a fight. Raphael could feel the beginnings of a fire brewing between them.

"That's my price. Take it or leave it."

Raphael stopped before the dilapidated hunk of cushion she called a couch. He felt the layers of tension grow between them and string his body up tight.

"You're playing a dangerous game, love."

She hummed. The sound was an all-knowing lash that lit a different kind of fire in him. "Oh, I'm well aware, but it's a game where I make the rules." A dainty shoulder rose and fell. "So, I like my odds."

Fuck.

He didn't know whether to stay furious or be aroused. Both . "Alright, I'll agree to your little bargain." He began to unbutton his shirt, watching in satisfaction as Stella's eyes snapped open wide. "Where would you like to take a bite out of me?"

She harrumphed and swiftly moved past him to the kitchenette, but she wasn't fast enough to hide the flush that stole onto her cheeks. Raphael stalked after her, hovering close behind her back as she rummaged through a drawer.

"Clever girl," Raphael whispered in her ear, eyeing the item she was after. He gave her just enough space to turn and face him, before cornering her. The drawer she'd opened closed with a tight little snap. Stella gulped, but her grip on the knife between them remained steadfast. "Do you know how to use that, love?"

Indignation flared in her eyes as she brought the kitchen knife to his chest—to his heart—and made a slow, horizontal slash.

He hissed but made no move to back away. Raphael didn't know what point he was trying to prove, but he leaned into the stinging kiss of the blade and let his hands rest on either side of her on the counter. Stella sucked in a breath, her eyes darting from his eyes down to the blade and the blood covering it.

Flush rising, she pulled the blade back and tossed it behind her. It clattered against the counter, no doubt leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Raphael couldn't care less about the mess they made. By the inferno rising in Stella's eyes, neither did she.

She planted a hand above his belly button, inching it upward with deftness as her face neared the cut she gave him. Sinew and muscles twitched beneath her featherlike touch.

The little devil. Raphael bit back a moan.

"And now I lay my mark for all to see." Her breath conjured goosebumps across his chest before fingertips were pressing against his soulmark. He gasped as ecstasy struck him like a lightning bolt that blocked out the rest of her words.

The moan he'd been holding back ripped free as her hot, wet tongue laved the wound in one fell swoop. Gods above and below. Raphael's awareness of her was borderline obscene. The bond between them saturated itself with a want so treacherously deep he thought he might drown.

Her touch slipped from his soulmark, and identical gasps escaped them. Stella's eyes rose to meet his, her pupils fathomless and completely blown out by lust. She took in breath after breath as if each were the last she might take.

"I think we're done here," she whispered in her husky voice.

Raphael growled like some kind of animal. In a heartbeat his hands were in command of her hips, hoisting her up onto the countertop to press himself snug between her legs.

"Not bloody likely."

A savage note of approval left his mouth as Stella's mouth parted under his eagerly. The primal part of him was sated momentarily before pressing its advantage. He cupped her face with both hands, tipping it back to plunder the sweet expanse her mouth offered. Stella's hands roamed his pectorals, smearing blood as easily as he painted her skin black with the remnants of his magical outburst.

Their teeth gnashed against one another in their desperation to soothe the storm writhing so temptingly between them. His hips dragged themselves up and down the cradle of her thighs. Raphael could feel the warmth of her desire between their clothes. It sang to him like a siren.

Raphael pulled back to suck in a breath of much-needed air. Stella didn't waste it. Her mouth moved to his neck, nose bumping across the bottom of his jaw in a silent command to allow her more access. He obeyed.

Fuck, at that moment he wasn't sure what he wouldn't do if she asked.

His hands moved to the laces of her corset without thought, tugging and pulling until substantial skin was exposed. He had every intention of exploring and teasing the soft flesh, but her lips and teeth disarmed him. She'd latched onto his erratic pulse and felt the need he had for her right at its source.

The sensation leveled him as she suckled and nibbled at the point. His eyes rolled back. Raphael steadied himself with a palm laid flat against the cabinet behind her head.

It was heaven to touch her. To lose himself in her and their connection when all the rest required his strictest control.

Raphael inhaled sharply as her devilish tongue flicked out to taste the length of his neck. Then his eyes snapped open in alarm. Another inhale, this time fully through his nose, proved his fear right. His gaze locked onto the hand planted above her head. Watched the embers rise from his veins and the smoke emit from beneath his palm.

He jerked away, pushing Stella back as he did.

She cried out as her head rebounded off the cabinetry. "What the hell, Raphael?" Her hands shot around to the back of her head as Raphael backpedaled.

Why was his magic flaring now? Was it some form of punishment?

Did it matter?

He couldn't let Stella discover the power awakening within him. It would only lead to disaster.

"I have to go."

" What? "

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't meet her eyes. His attention was fixed on the handprint he left on the kitchen cabinet door. The handprint smoldered mockingly at him before evaporating from sight in a plume of smoke. His jaw dropped open, and all the while, Stella glared at him and held her corset close to her chest.

She looked poised to say something but stopped herself. Her nose crinkled. A preternatural stillness came over Raphael as Stella's gaze whipped over her shoulder. There was no trace of his magical outburst for her to find, but it still chilled him to know that she almost had.

The same chill that turned glacial as she pinned him with a glare. "Get out."

"Stella, I can explain."

He made to move back toward her, but she held out a hand. It shook in the air with everything she seemed to be holding back from saying.

"There's nothing to explain. You completed your end of the deal. Now you can go, and I'll make good on mine."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't." Her whiplash response was resolute. The ice collecting in his veins vanished leaving Raphael at a loss for words. "Leave. Now."

Not knowing what else to do or say, he nodded dumbly and retrieved his shirt. As he straightened and turned back to face her, something in his chest tightened further when he found only apathy in her regard. He ground his teeth against the foreign pain that transformed into a dull but quiet ache in his chest. He longed to say something that would put things right between them.

Longed to get things back to a place he had some measure of control over.

He cleared his throat. "I'll leave you to it then."

Stella made no response other than to raise both eyebrows at him. The walk to the door felt like the longest in his life, and it wasn't until it closed behind him that he released a leaden sigh.

He was fucked.