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human, but you have the advantage.” Abbadon kept his sword high. “Use it to make her submit.”
    “You’ve little appreciation for a human’s mindset, especially a human female.”
    Cyrus slammed the heel of his foot into Abbadon’s gut and knocked the sword from his hand. Without giving his opponent time to recover, he seized Abbadon by the throat and brought him to the floor in a monstrous thud. The concrete floor cracked beneath the mat.
    Wrestling to break free, Abbadon grunted. His skin shifted to the cobalt blue color of a Kindred warrior preparing for real combat. He rose, lifting Cyrus. Abbadon snarled as his wings unfurled with an imposing swish. Cyrus railed on the inside. He’d never get his wings until his life force merged fully with his mate’s, activating his dormant power.
    He scrambled to offset his adversary’s new edge. He might not have wings, but he could still mete out a fearsome dose of damage, as long as he didn’t let him take to the air.
    Cyrus sent his elbow crashing into Abbadon’s head.
    Thrown off balance, Abbadon tottered for a second, then ascended from the floor. With a growl, Cyrus snatched the winged warrior’s ankle and yanked him back to the ground.
    Fists hammered flesh, spiking the musky air with the metallic scent of blood. Cyrus embraced the pain to sharpen his focus and determination to win. Wounds could be healed later.
    When Abbadon doubled over, Cyrus knew he had him. A knee to the head and an elbow to the base of the neck, and Abbadon dropped to his knees.
    Cyrus towered over him, chest heaving. “Concede.”
    Abbadon staggered to his feet. Sapphire drained from his complexion as his wings retracted. “Since you’re reluctant to take my advice, what do you intend to do?”
    Tightness knitted through the muscles of Cyrus’s back. He rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. “I’m going to collect her now and bring her home.”
    He had to handle the situation with shrewd delicacy like the politician he was groomed to be and not with the force of the warrior he was born. He didn’t know what he was going to say or how he was going to do it, but he was going to claim his mate. With Evan in London and no opposing House to stand in his way, failure a third time was unacceptable.
    Since he’d disconnected from her pool of energy, a chill lingered in his blood and his stream had slowed to a crawl. The life force of the collective had been sufficient to sustain him for more than two centuries. Now the ripples he felt from the others were barely tangible. He needed the lightning bolt of her energy, needed the heat of her body warming him.
    More than the fulfillment of his desire was at stake. Too many were dying from the dark veil and he was being called upon several times a week to euthanize more brethren lost to blood frenzy. His task to safeguard the Kindred race from exposure, keeping their existence secret from humanity, was growing more difficult.
    Abbadon placed a hand on Cyrus’s shoulder. “You and your kabashem are the greatest hope for redemption in a thousand years. The road ahead of you will not be easy, but you must succeed where the other Blessed unions failed.”
    They hadn’t simply failed. The other three couples over the millennia had been killed.
    There was no telling if he and Serenity would be able to open themselves and trust one another enough for their split souls to fully reunite as one, or how long it could take. And that was the easy part. Only the birth of a child from a Blessed couple, the manifestation of a Fallen one’s soul restored and made whole, would break the curse wiping out Kindred like an epidemic.
    He tamped down the doubt clawing up in his chest. He had to succeed or his species would soon be extinct.
    Talus crept around the periphery of the gym near a rack of weapons. Her stealth had improved. She’d never gotten so close without him noticing.
    “Did you cut flowers from the garden for me?” he asked without looking in