I'm not sure what I thought would happen when I made that declaration. It sure as hell wasn't laughter—not after his outburst over my appearance—but that's exactly what Cian did. Threw his head back and laughed, but when he lowered his gaze to meet mine again, there was no humor in his eyes.

"What odd company you keep Laura Kincaid," he said, his hand going to his hip, to the same spot he kept the sword he used to kill Molly. It wasn't visible right now, but it was there. Hidden.

"Do you deny it?"

"Bria," Laura exclaimed, shooting an apologetic look at Cian. "She's human and doesn't know any better."

"You're defending him? The man who killed your mother?"

The vampire narrowed her eyes at me. "I'm sure you're mistaken."

"There's only one of you that's mistaken," Cian said, walking around me, eying me up and down with a smoldering heat that had my fingers curling against my thighs. "This woman is not human, not entirely."

That caught mine and Laura's attention, albeit for different reasons. Her awed, respectful expression morphed into rage, and those fangs appeared once more. I had to remind myself why I was here and who he was before I pounced on him, begging him to tell me what I was. Among other petitions.

"What am I then?"

He blinked. "A ghost."

"You bastard," Laura screeched.

The cracking of bones and splitting hiss of skin filled the room as spines protruded from her arms and neck. Only Born vampires were blessed with them, and I'd never seen them up close—few who did lived long enough to describe them, and those who survived tried to block it out. The spines of females were rumored to be poisoned and from green hue and the noxious, sour odor filling the space, I figured it safe enough to move that rumor into the realm of fact.

I scrambled out of my seat and backed away toward the window. Cian glanced at her and rolled her eyes. "I did not come here to whet my sword with your blood today, vampire. Do not force my hand."

"You killed my mother," she sobbed. "You are a murderer, and the Council will hear about this."

"The Council is the one who sent me after her." He spoke as if he were explaining himself to a child. "And while I had a hand in her death, Molly took her own life."

"Lies."

He was telling the truth—mostly. If Molly had been captured that day, he would have taken her to the Synod, not the Supernatural Council. As far as I knew, no Andariens sat on the Council since they had their own.

"Laura," I said, lifting my gloved hands in what I hoped was a soothing gesture. A weird liquid was oozing from her spikes, and one pulsed with every pump of her heart. Was it also true that she could eject them from her body like darts? "He's telling the truth. Molly impaled herself on the sword."

A bit of the murderous haze faded from her eyes as she focused them on me. "W-what? How do you know that?"

"Yes, how do you know that?"

Ignoring Cian, I said to Laura, "Think about why you hired me."

She shook herself. "It doesn't matter. She was running from something. She was scared. It was you, wasn't it?"

The Anderian took three steps to close the distance between us, and the rough plaster scraped my back through the thin material of my blouse. Gods, he smelled fabulous. Like spearmint and eucalyptus and something earthy. His nostrils flared like he was smelling me too, and it was on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he liked my scent.

"Who are you?" Cian growled before pitching forward with an anguished shout.

He braced himself against the wall with a muscled arm, saving me from being pinned, but my nose was now flush against his pectorals. I tipped my head back, feeling his chin glide through my hair, and when I could look up, I found my lips centimeters from his. An unearthly light blazed in his blue eyes, the feral monster lurking inside him threatening to break free.

"That was a mistake," he declared, his breath hot against my skin as he reached behind him and yanked. Between one heartbeat and the next, he moved away from me, leaving me bereft without his heat, but ice slithered through my veins when I saw what he'd pulled out of his body.

Rich crimson blood coated the six-inch bone spike in his hand, and in the middle of his back, a red stain spread like a blossoming flower. Laura squared off with him. Nothing about her current state resembled the put together lawyer who'd greeted me at the door just an hour earlier. From her left palm, a new spike grew, and she pulled her arm back as if prepared to throw it.

"No," I shouted, shoving Cian out of the way. "You're not a murderer, Laura. Don't do this."

But it was too late. The spike ejected, whizzing through the air at an impossible speed, and spearing me through the right shoulder. I went down hard, ass over head and landed on my knees. When I tried to use my arms to push myself up, I cried out, collapsing onto the plush carpet, my cheek nestled in the soft fibers.

"So, if you'll review the numbers—"

"I think you're mistaken."

"Don—"

"Sh—"

Faint echoes played in my mind, so weak they didn't pull me out of the present. I watched as Cian's body rippled with unrestrained rage, the sword appearing in his hand as if by magic—I giggled. Of course, by magic. And then hot liquid splashed across my cheek, and Laura's head plunked onto the carpet beside me, her eyes frozen in terror.

"Shut up," Cian commanded, rolling me over.

I snapped my mouth closed. Had I been screaming. Was my arm still attached? I didn't feel it anymore.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" He asked, ripping the sleeve of my top off and brushing his thumb over the wound.

Teeth chattering, I replied, "It was for Laura, you asshole. Not you. You really are a murderer."

Shadows flitted through Cian's expression. He shook his head and cupped his hand over my arm. The numbness retreated, chased away by a surge of warmth.

"I have a right to defend myself, and Laura was in the blood rage. If I had not killed her, she would have not stopped until you or I was dead, and strange not human creature that you are, it would have been you that died, not me."

"You don't know that." I pouted. I was pretty kick ass in a fight. When you know, vampires and Anderians weren't involved. "She stabbed you, too."

"Vampire poison has no effect on me. It was an annoyance, nothing else."

His hand lifted, and I sat up with a gasp as feeling buzzed back into my limb. "You healed me."

"I find no joy in death." Cian stared at his hand. My blood mingled with his, and beneath the foul stench of Laura's poison, there was something sweet and floral.

"Why were you going to bring Molly to the Synod?"

I rose slowly, my movements stiff and uncoordinated. Between this morning and now, tomorrow was going to suck balls, and I made a mental note to take a prescription dose of ibuprofen and stay in bed all day. It wasn't like I had a client to report back to anymore, which reminded me we needed to inform someone in the know about Laura's untimely passing. No one on the Council would want humans to get their hands on a vampire corpse, especially a born one, and especially one who'd been beheaded. The press would have a field day.

"Cian?" I pressed, leaning against a chair and attempting to look like it wasn't holding me upright. The Anderian didn't answer me. He was too busy driving a sword through Laura's chest. With one twist of the blade, she turned to ash. I felt faint. "Shit. Guess we just need a vacuum."

"Someone else will take care of it," he said, grabbing me and pulling out of the room. "You and I are going to have a little chat. Starting with how you know so much about Molly's death."

Well, that was damn convenient. My reputation didn't stretch as far as the Anderians—because they didn't give a shit or they were too preoccupied with other things. Like chasing down humans to retrieve something called a shard. Of course, with his lie detecting tongue, he could tell if I lied to him.

Wonder what else his tongue does?

If he hadn't been holding onto me so tightly, I might have slapped myself to snap out of it. No one but Jac had ever distracted me like this, and we had a history. The man was like a drug habit I couldn't kick. One taste and I couldn't say no. Cian had never even touched me with desirous intent, and I was halfway to combustion. Something told me if we ever crossed that line, it would ruin me for anyone else.

"How about we start with you calling me a ghost," I suggested, rubbing my forehead where I'd smacked it against the car when he shoved me into the passenger seat. He cranked the engine and pulled out of the drive, leaving my car sitting sadly in the driveway. It would also point anyone who came looking for Laura in my direction. Fuck me.

"I was mistaken," he muttered. "You reminded me of someone else, that's all."

"You accused me of being glamoured. You also accused Molly of being glamoured, and you called her a human. Is there something I missed? Some Humans Using Fae Magic 101 class?"

"There you go again," he growled, jerking the steering wheel to take an abrupt turn down a country lane. Gravel spit out from beneath the tires, hitting the bushes and trees with sharp pings as we flew down the road. "How do you know any of this?"

"At least you're not denying it."

"I do not lie when it isn't called for."

"Oh, and when is it called for?"

"When you don't have the upper hand."

He had me there. There was no doubt I was at his mercy, and the farther we drove into the woods, the less likely my survival was looking. Then again, why would he heal me just to kill me? It didn't take a genius to know the answer to that. I had information he thought was useful, but besides confessing my abilities to him, nothing I knew was unknown to him.

"Tell me how you know how Molly died."

The urge to spill everything was so strong, I had to clamp my hand over my mouth. "What are you doing to me?" I hissed between my fingers, glaring at him as he stopped the car in front of a small cabin. "Is that why I'm popping off at the mouth?"

Shit. It would be nice if there was some sort of Anderian handbook out there. Lie detectors. Check. Walking truth serum. Check. Wicked, strong and sexy. Check and check. I was so royally fucked right now.

"Get out of the car."

"I'm good—" Cian let loose a low growl, and I unbuckled my seatbelt with trembling fingers. "Fine. Jesus."

I followed him up the stairs of the sagging porch and into the ramshackle home. It was old but clean and there appeared to be only two rooms—a kitchen and a bedroom. He pointed at a chair, and I sat dutifully, not wishing to be forced into it. While he grabbed two beers from the fridge, I did a quick scan of the surroundings, noting possible exits and wishing like hell I could call Jac to get me out of this mess.

"What's a Shard?" I asked when he plunked the beer down in front of me, its bottom leaving a damp ring on the scarred wooden table.

Cian froze with the rim of the bottle on his lips. Taking two deep drags that nearly emptied the beer, he dropped into the chair across from me and rubbed his hand over his eyes. With a curse, he curled his fingers into a fist and pounded it on the table.

"Probably not supposed to know about that either?"

"No, you're not," he said. "Which is why I'm going to have to kill you, and I really didn't want to."