Shadow's End (Elder Races #9)

Love and commitment. She would die before she let go of fighting for her son.

While his father had viewed him as a possession, she had been his only touchstone.

Hers had been the hands that small towheaded toddler had reached for when he had taken his first steps.

Her lap was where the young boy had buried his head when he had sobbed out his hurts and disappointments.

She was the one the proud young man had looked to when he had achieved an accomplishment.

She had been the one to tell him with fierce, passionate pride, “Well done.”

The only thing that could make her turn on Ferion would be to find out that he had become unsalvageable, as corrupt as Malphas, and a danger to others.

Because, the simple fact was, she was not built to do anything else.

You did not walk away from those you loved. You fought for them, always, with everything you had, even if it meant fighting the long fight, and staying on the hardest, quietest, most difficult course.

No matter how long it took, no matter what needed to be done.

Her lips parted on a soundless intake of breath. That couldn’t possibly be what Graydon meant by asking.

Could it?

It was a hell of a logical leap for her to make, from what he had actually said, which was let’s see where we might take this to love.

And now wasn’t the time to ask what he had meant. Not with ten other people with super sharp hearing and an abundance of curiosity overcrowding the room, not to mention an impending war with a Djinn.

Words fell out of her mouth anyway. She, who was respected for her sense of diplomacy and discretion, had no control over herself. The last twenty-four hours had obliterated any filters she might otherwise have had.

“What are you saying?” she demanded, yanking his hands.

At her vehemence, he looked quietly astonished. Then his expression shifted to something very male, and so intense it rocked her foundation.

He yanked her hands in return, only his grip was so strong, he pulled her forward until she collided with his chest.

She had to tilt her head back to keep staring at him. The front of her torso, everywhere they touched, felt seared by his hard body. Oh gods, she had never forgotten how hungry she had been for him, back in England, but this felt entirely new, deeper and more raw than anything she could remember or imagine.

“Intense though your conversation may be,” Soren snapped, “you will have to set it aside for later.”

The Djinn’s acid tone splintered the bubble that surrounded Bel. Flinching, she realized Soren had moved across the room and stood right beside them. The Djinn looked furious.

Moving so fast he blurred, Graydon snatched at Bel, clamping her against his side, away from the Djinn. At the same time, he snarled at Soren wordlessly.

Oh, dear gods.

Graydon’s normal features, that had become so beautiful and dear to her, had vanished.

In his place stood a huge monster, with a feral, distorted face, fangs and claws. In an instant, he had gone from gentle, even sensual, to barbaric and half animal.

Bel’s mouth fell open, and she goggled at him.

“Whoa, okay,” Constantine said sharply. “Back up, Soren. Back up, now. How the hell do you get a Djinn to back the fuck up? Like right now!”

“I told you he was close to flipping his shit,” Luis said.

Rune ordered, “Everybody else, leave the suite! Go out into the hall!”

Carling’s calm, telepathic voice flowed into Bel’s mind. Bel, you need to talk to Graydon and get him to calm down. Do it now.

I don’t understand, Bel stammered. Funny, she didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. Simply astonished and confused. She hadn’t sensed any threat in the room, yet Graydon was clearly primed for battle.

Soren backed away, looking astonished and thoughtful.

I’ve seen this behavior before, and I know what it is, Carling said. We’ll talk about it later. Don’t be afraid, honey.

I’m not afraid. Bel switched to verbal speech. She said as calmly as she could, “Graydon, my love. All is well. There’s nothing dangerous here at all. Can you look at me?”

The monster had not stopped glaring at Soren. His long fangs were exposed in warning. The massive muscles in the arm that held her clamped to his side were hard as iron.

Where had her gentle giant gone? This was the same monster who had faced down Malphas in the Djinn’s country manor house in Wembley.

Something about Soren’s antagonistic attitude had triggered Graydon’s fight instinct.

The monster didn’t appear to pay any attention to her, but she noticed the sound of his growling subsided.

Hoping he quieted so he could hear the sound of her voice, she continued softly. “I need for you to pay attention, Gray. Are you listening to me? I need for you to pay attention to me right now.”

She injected all the urgency she could into her voice.

The monster’s gaze snapped to her.