Eleven P.M. The black Spyker glided to the curb of the gallery.

Julian stepped out first. Kitten was a dead weight against Mia's chest, her head lolling like a broken doll.

Julian hauled Kitten into his arms. Her head found the crook of his neck instantly.

"Sorry," Julian muttered toward Mia. "Did she cause a scene?"

Mia leaned against the stone pillar, her eyes shimmering with a glassy mist. "She mistook the martinis for juice. She's been hibernating in the corner for an hour."

Kitten mumbled into Julian's collar, her fingers clutching his shirt. "Julian... big bed... I want the soft bed."

Julian adjusted his grip, a faint smile breaking his professional mask. "I know. We're going home."

Damien leaned against the car door, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. His gaze tracked Julian's retreat with a mocking slant.

"Careful with the porcelain, brother," Damien drawled. "You're going to have a quiet few days while the little rose sleeps it off."

Julian paused at the car door, his jaw tightening. "I hear your entire monthly allowance goes to Greek philosophy first editions now. Negotiating with Aristotle must be a thrill, Damien."

Damien's fingers twitched. He crushed the cigarette under his heel and turned away.

Julian climbed into the driver's seat. "You're a freak."

Damien didn't answer. He turned his focus to the woman on the gallery steps.

Mia was usually a surface without a ripple. Tonight, she waved—a broad, uncoordinated arc of her arm.

"Hi!" she shouted. Her smile was too wide, too bright. "Honey! You're here!"

Damien froze. He closed the distance in three predatory strides.

His hand snapped around her waist, hauling her flush against his chest. He hooked a finger under her jaw, forcing her glassy eyes to find his.

"What did you just call me?"

Mia's arms looped around his neck. Her breath was hot, smelling of gin and juniper.

"Damien," she whispered. Her lips brushed his jawline.

The Sovereign's pupils constricted into pinpricks of black. He scooped her up in one fluid motion, her heels kicking uselessly in the air.

He strode toward the car, his pace heavy and urgent. The heat in his gut was a physical weight, demanding he claim every inch of her territory.

The Gallery Director stood in the shadows of the doorway. He watched the taillights of the Spyker vanish into the midnight fog.

He had seen the ice in Damien's eyes shatter into a lethal softness. He had seen the way the "Beautiful Monster" looked at the girl in his arms.

Every soul has a keyword carved into its center. A secret code that unlocks the mechanism of the heart.

For Damien Lancaster, that word was written in a single, unyielding stroke.

Mia.

----

The Spyker cut through San Francisco's midnight like a scalpel. Inside the cabin, Mia tugged at Damien's silk cuff, her breath thick with the scent of gin. "Eight times nine is seventy-two," she whispered. "Nine times nine... eighty-one."

She leaned back against the leather seat, eyes unfocused, fingertips tracing the faint scars on her own forearm. "Damien... did I get them right?" He didn't look back; his knuckles were bone-white against the steering wheel, his nails leaving deep crescents in the leather.

He stepped on the accelerator, the roar of the engine drowning out her murmurs. He kicked the bedroom door open and his blazer hit the hardwood floor with a heavy, muffled thud. He slammed her into the black silk sheets, his movements sharp and absolute.

The sound of snapping buttons hit the floor like hailstones. He leaned down, his shadow shifting violently over her ivory skin. "Did you... see me before?" she asked, her hand searching the contour of his face.

He let out a short, cold laugh. "No." She stared into his pale gray pupils, her voice a thin wire about to snap. "I feel like I know you... I know all beautiful things."

His expression sank into the darkness. He forced her lips open, his tongue reclaiming his territory. Mia's hand wandered downward, her fingers closing around him with a feverish heat.

"Damien," she whispered, her cheeks crimson, her breath scalding. "You... you've developed so well." His pupils constricted. The last fake layer of civilization in his eyes shattered.

He flipped her body over, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her waist as he pinned her into the pillow. He took possession of her in the dark, every rhythm carrying a predator's violence. Mia's voice broke into pieces as she cried out his name.

He answered with a silence that promised to end the world.