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Inhibition is quickly lost at the strip club.

She didn't care that her beautiful heart would no longer beat.

He'd never hear her laugh again, never see her breathtaking smile. He'd never see the heated gleam in her eyes as she insulted him. With her life, her scent was gone. All that was left was a void; a consuming void that left him numb.

Nadia was dead.

Andraemalek never bothered to go back into their room. He never would. The only proof that she existed rested within the confines of those walls, walls he would never breach again. He was done trying to be human. He was a demon, and demons never let themselves become weak enough to fall in love. She didn't fight to stay.

He wouldn't mourn her.

Suicide was not an option; the High Council had taken that decision from him and the Brethren. If they were to die, it would be in battle or through natural causes. A broken heart wasn't enough to send him to the pits of hell. There wasn't much out there that was. He was left alone to find his own way.

The underworld was his home and it was there he would stay. He was a hired assassin, a ruthless killer paid to make the lives of his clients easier. Emotion was not part of the package. There was only death. Never-ending death.

He wouldn't allow himself to miss her.

The sudden but faint breeze that brushed over him made him clench his jaw in determination; he would not cry for someone who left him. He did not care that the air held a familiar scent; berries with a hint of mint. The smell of her emotion.

The smell of her love.

Andraemalek waited until there were no visible traces of bright blue light. She was gone, never to return to him. He didn't care that the wind smelled of her or that the taste of her kiss lingered on his lips. She was gone and she wasn't coming back this time. He turned to leave and gritted his teeth when the breeze brushed over again. "Goodbye, Nadia." As he shimmered himself away from the manor and away from her, only one thought dominated his mind.

He would not grieve.

* * * * *

He had no idea where he was. It was dark, and it felt as if he was locked in a coffin. There wasn't much room to move around. He was locked in a void space. Nothing he tried was powerful enough to set him free. They knew what they were doing when they banished him.


The voice in the distance startled him. "Sherlaine?"

"The one and only."

"How is it possible?" He'd tried countless times to get a number of his powers to work. Why was it so easy for Sherlaine to communicate with him?

"I don't particularly care."

The humor in Sherlaine's voice pricked at his temper. "Find a way to get me out of here."

"Not possible," Sherlaine replied, "They knew what they were doing when they sent you to... Where the hell are you, anyway?"

"I don't know."

"And how was I supposed to get you out when no one has any idea where you are?"

Zaide counted to ten. Slowly. "There has to be some kind of a loophole. Find it."

"What do I get for my troubles?"

Zaide did not like the humor in his voice. "You get to live when I seek out my revenge. Why did you wait this long to contact me?"

"Never bothered to try before now."

"How did you try?"

"I have information," Sherlaine said instead of answering his question, "Information about a certain soul you've been waiting to return."

If felt as if a building had collapsed on him. Zaide puffed out a surprised breath. He'd been waiting for this moment, anticipating this return, for centuries. How many nights had he paced the length of his rooms trying to sense it? Too many. Much too many.

Realization made him laugh. The soul had been cloaked. For centuries it had been reincarnated, reborn and reused. And he'd never known because the High Council protected it. They'd waited until he'd been banished to let him know that it was free.


Zaide continued to laugh as he replied, "Find the owner of that soul."

"You want a kill?"

"No!" Zaide took a calming breath to keep from revealing too m

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