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bunched in her pink tulle skirt as she stalked across the landing toward her front door. She needed to change, too. She couldn’t run around looking like an escapee from Swan Lake . Reaching the door, she started to put the key in the lock.
    And froze as her heart suddenly began to pound. What if the dream man was in her apartment, waiting to attack her? Licking suddenly dry lips, she placed her free hand against the door, closed her eyes, and listened with senses other than human.
    Nothing. Not even the faintest hum of magic.
    Which didn’t mean he wasn’t inside, heavily wrapped in magical shielding and ready to blast her into next week. Then again, maybe there isn’t anything to sense. Maybe I was wrong about him being the dream man. Maybe he was just some random human.
    Some big, sexy, random human.
    Nineva bit her lip, staring at the door, wishing she could look through it. Wishing she dared.
    Or you could just stand out here dithering until Ansgar’s men show up to kill you. Idiot. Impatient with herself, she took a deep breath, shoved the key in the lock, and turned it. Lifting one hand in preparation to shield or blast, she threw open the door. It banged against the wall.
    Nobody was inside.
    The apartment stood empty. No towering dream man, no detachment of armored Sidhe warriors, just her own barren, depressing little apartment. Blowing out a breath in relief, she hurried across the living room and down the short hallway to the bedroom she didn’t use. The duffel was in the closet, stuffed with money and a few changes of clothes. She should have just enough time to pack her lone suitcase, too.
    Nineva flung the closet door open and reached for the battered dark green bag lying on the floor.
    A male voice spoke from behind her. “You know, I’m not going to hurt you.”
    With a strangled shriek, she whirled, both hands instinctively lifted as she conjured a pair of spell blasts. The twin globes surrounded her fingers with a hot blue glow, ready to annihilate her foe at the first wrong move.
    The dream man threw his hands up in an I’m unarmed gesture she didn’t buy for a minute. “Hey, hold up. I’m not your enemy.”
    â€œYeah, right,” Nineva snarled, and hurled one of the blasts at his head.
    The burning ball of energy splashed harmlessly off the magical shield that surrounded him like an invisible globe. As it hit, his glamour vanished, revealing a swirl of cobalt blue hair falling around those ridiculously broad shoulders. His eyes were the deep, dark red of rubies in his harshly handsome face. She couldn’t see his ears, but she knew they must be pointed.
    Just the sight of him brought back the dream agony of burning skin, the smell of her own flesh crisping. Fear clawed at her.
    Nineva flung another fireball at his handsome face, gritting her teeth in frustration as it splashed harmlessly off his shields. The Goddess Mark on her right breast began to burn. She conjured another pair of blasts, bouncing on her toes, looking for an opening.
    â€œDammit, Nineva, Cachamwri sent me!” He moved toward her, blocking each and every one of her force spells as she threw them. Wary as a cornered cat, she backed away. “He asked me to protect you.”
    Nineva retreated into the hallway, drawing more and more power from the Mageverse as she went, flinging each blast the moment it filled her fingers. “Oh, give me a break,” she snapped. “Why the hell would the Dragon God be interested in me?” Though, come to think of it, the Cachamwri Sidhe worshipped the Dragon God. Their king, Llyr Galatyn, was Cachamwri’s Avatar, just as she was Semira’s. “Is Llyr after me, too?”
    â€œLlyr?” The warrior was beginning to look frustrated now. “No, I’m one of Arthur’s men. Cachamwri…”
    â€œArthur who?” She frowned. Her father had never mentioned an Arthur. Besides, that was a human