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to save herself. Not that he thought whoring for bastards like Bernard Franco made her any better. Still, she’d traded herself instead of someone she claimed to love. He couldn’t forget, either, that she’d been just a kid when the Rackmore curse initiated. She’d had to rely on her mother and then on her mother’s lover for survival. She’d never had to take care of herself. She knew only how to be taken care of . . . so how could she resist the slimy charms of a wealthy and powerful wizard like Franco?
    Kerren, on the other hand, had been an adult—married to someone powerful, to someone who’d loved her. To him , damn it. He would’ve moved heaven and earth to help her, but she didn’t ask. She’d already put plans into motion to save all that she valued—and he had not been among those.
    He’d completely misunderstood his wife’s true nature. All those quirks he thought so adorable were just manifestations of selfishness. Oh, she’d been good at pouting. Very good at using sex to soften him, or to thwart him. He’d been enamored by her beauty and her luscious body, but she was also a keenly intelligent woman, quick-witted and forward-thinking. He’d believed that he had found his match. Not even the night she’d killed him brought him such pain as the knowledge that she had not loved him. She had chosen him, and manipulated her way into his life, so that she would have the heart of a Dragon to give her demon lover.
    Bitterness rose, tasting metallic and vile. Ten years. He should be over what happened. It wasn’t that he had any feelings left for Kerren. She could go to hell, or rather, she could stay there. What she had wrought by the ritual had exacted a price neither had expected. He still had nightmares, though they were few and far between.
    Damn it.
    He rubbed a hand over his face.
    Having his past walk up to him and beg for help was the last thing he’d expected. And he’d had enough of surprises, especially surprises from the Rackmores. While he spent years trying to figure out what had happened to him, and how to control whatever had come out with him, the magicals dealt with the Rackmore fallout. The Houses revoked Rackmore memberships—and refused new members with Rackmore bloodlines. Lawsuits were filed. New laws were proposed, rejected, proposed again. Many Rackmores left the Houses of their own accord, and others held on to their positions tooth and nail while fighting for their rights.
    Hundreds committed suicide.
    Lucinda’s father had been among those casualties. Her mother, Wilmette, had soldiered on, taking on a wealthy lover to ensure the security of her youngest daughter. She had publicly disowned Kerren, going so far as to complete magical ritual and mundane paperwork to remove the woman from the Rackmore rolls.
    It took two years for the Grand Court to issue its edict. Rackmores had colluded with demons and performed death magic; therefore, they no longer had the rights and privileges of any Houses. It didn’t matter that current Rackmores hadn’t made the deals and that they were suffering enough already—the rules for magicals were different, and oftentimes far more harsh, from those for mundanes. Magicals had a bigger responsibility to the world, and therefore paid a higher penalty when guilty of abusing power.
    The House of Ravens suffered the most membership loss, since so many of their witches and wizards were Rackmores. Those who were left felt betrayed and resentful. After two thousand years of being one of the strongest Houses in the world, they became the smallest and the weakest. It was unpardonable. The Ravens soon became the Rackmores’ greatest enemies.
    Despite the inconvenience of his escape, Kerren had left him alone. Why would she bother him? She’d gotten the blood price she needed to save herself. He’d spent a lot of time trying to heal from what she’d done to him, not only physically, but emotionally and mentally. He knew everyone believed he’d