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tempted.
    “The wall isn’t made of stone, it’s made of magic. Will his fire work if Tutresiel’s sword hardly scratched it?” Tyler asked.
    Alexander whirled on him. “Get Xaphan now, or spirits help you, because if Max does not return, I will take Prime, and I will make you suffer the rest of your despicable and very short lives.”
    “Careful,” Niko warned. “You’re only immortal if someone doesn’t kill you first. The only reason you’re still alive is Max doesn’t want you dead. But if she’s gone—” His face contorted and settled into a cold mask. “A bullet to the back of your head will take care of you.”
    Alexander smiled, his eyes narrowing to slits. He spoke softly, his voice flat. “Do you think I have survived a hundred years without knowing how to take care of myself? Do not think me an easy target. But since you and I both agree that Max needs help, fetch Xaphan. Unless you have a better idea.”
    Niko did not move at first, clearly not liking the idea of taking orders from Alexander. Finally he gave in. “All right. But don’t think this is over. You and I will have a discussion soon. Tyler, go get him.”
    Tyler reacted with pleasing speed and launched himself at the stairs. In that same moment, Alexander’s back prickled as a wash of magic filled the vault. He spun about. The dilapidated door on the wall had returned. Only now it stood ajar, a brilliant wedge of pale blue light pouring through the narrow opening.
    Instantly Alexander moved forward. But before he could touch the handle, the door swung slowly open.

Chapter 3
    MAX STEPPED DOWN INTO THE BOTTOM OF THE vault with Tutresiel hard on her heels. She was surprisingly glad of his company. She winced. It felt like a symptom that she was going soft somehow, and that worried her. She needed her hard edges to survive the world of magic, especially as the Guardians went to war. She couldn’t afford to let herself be distracted by anything. She was Horngate’s Prime, and it was her job to protect its people, not get them killed because she was thinking of friends or—
    Alexander’s sharp-featured face rose in her mind, and she banished it instantly, but not before liquid longing pooled in her stomach. She groaned inwardly. He made her want to do bad, bad things to him and with him. Regularly and often.
    Down, girl, she told herself, even as his image crept back into her mind with his piercing eyes, the smooth touchable planes of his muscular chest, and his lips—oh, holy mother of fuck, that man could kiss. Shit . She drew a breath and let it out slowly, trying to focus on the trouble at hand. Scooter.
    She stopped and eyed the magical curtain cutting the space in half. What was it for? She didn’t think it could keep Scooter out if he wanted in. He’d blow through it like it was wet tissue. Maybe it was there in case he decided to abandon Horngate. This way, their enemies wouldn’t be able to just walk through the back door unannounced.
    “Well?” Tutresiel asked. “Change your mind?”
    She eyed him. He was leaning against the wall like he was settling in to watch a movie and wasn’t sure it was going to be any good.
    “So if you thought there was a decent chance you might disappear forever, would you feel bad not letting your friends say good-bye?” The question surprised her as it left her lips. Soft. She was going so damned soft. But if Scooter kept her, this would be the second time she’d left the people who mattered most to her without any word of good-bye. The first had been when Giselle turned her, and now—
    Her throat went dry. Now, thirty years later, she was going to go drag them to Horngate for safety. What would they say when they saw her? Dread made her go cold. She’d made sure they thought she was dead. Would they be angry? Would they be glad to see her? Would they be afraid of her? Max looked just the same as she did when she vanished out of their lives, but she was nothing like that girl—Anne.