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was a deep rumble from his chest.
    She took a cautious step back, but hesitated at Griffin’s
obvious pain. His arms rippled as if he would shift then and there. “But–”  
    “I’m going to find out who was spying on us. Unless you want
to see me in my skivvies, I suggest you leave.” So saying, Griffin tore his
shirt over his head and dropped it to the ground.
    Raven gulped at the display of muscles. Though she felt no
desire for Griffin, she could appreciate a man built with all lean muscles and
tanned skin. While he still showed effects from his recent imprisonment, it was
the old scars covering every inch of his torso that made her flinch. For a
shifter to retain that much tissue damage after they’d healed, someone had to
have tried to skin him.  
    When he popped open the first button of his fly, she inhaled
involuntarily to catch his scent. The energy around her fluctuating wildly,
slipping down her throat to sit like a warm glow heavy in her chest.
    Not wanting to lose what little control she’d wrestled back,
unwilling to absorb more of the power into her abused body after such a
glorious failure to hold it all, she turned and hightailed it back to the
house. His mocking laugh rang in her ears, but she didn’t think he took any
pleasure in taunting her.
    The house was thankfully silent when she entered, giving a
hum of welcome. The place was a home in the truest sense of the word. Part of
her power had spread to the house, changed it fundamentally with the ability to
store electricity.
    The tug of war between the two sides of her soul left her
exhausted. She inhaled then coughed at her own smell, desperately needing a
shower before she tackled the next mess.
    She plucked out the two chops holding her hair in place and
peeled off her gloves. She headed up the sweeping stairs, the steps curving
along the wall to the second floor to open up to a balcony. The grand open
spaces, large rambling hallways might have been modeled from late Victorian architecture,
but she and the old building suited each other.
    She entered her room. The bed was still partially ruffled
from this morning’s fight with her dreams. The empty couch next to it mocked
her.
    Jackson’s couch.
    At night, alone in the darkness, she’d swear she could still
heard his breathing.
    A cruel trick of her mind.
    She kicked her shoes off and had her shirt half-unbuttoned
when she heard a noise that raised the hair on the back of her neck.
    Instead of calling her animals, she reached for her core. She
needed power she could rely on, not a mindless beast that just wanted to kill. Strands
of energy slithered through her center, the blue cords springing forward at her
call to swarm over her.
    Much too strong.
    “Shit.” Electricity snaked down her arms, enveloping her
hands in a light glow. Ignoring the burning of heat under her skin, she inched along
the edges of the bedroom.
    She cocked her head and listened. Then she heard it again.
    Male voices.
    Inside the house.
    How had they gotten past Griffin...or had Griffin let them
in?
    Following the sound, she cracked opened the bathroom door.
    And stopped stock-still.
    The room was torn apart, only the shower and sink remained
intact. Three men, shifters of some type, young and very fit, stood across from
her. They straightened abruptly at her entrance, acting shocked to see her as
if she’d walked into their bathroom.
    They didn’t look threatening, more curious.
    Their reaction tripped her up, and she had to wonder what
kind of picture she presented with her dark hair swirling around her shoulders,
the prominent streak of silver near her temple, and the gilded tips.
    A freak even amongst the paranormals. 
    She opened her mouth to demand answers when Taggert slammed
into the room behind her. Raven whirled to face the new threat, angling her
body to keep everyone in view. She lifted her hands, her powers amped and ready
to blast anyone who dared follow him.
    He pulled up short when he saw