Augustus bowed his head. “My apologies, Master Evernight.” He did not look at all contrite. “However I do believe it important that you fully understand with whom you are dealing when you speak to me.”

“Oh, and why is that?” Sin would take great pleasure in making sure this prat knew how capable Sin was in dealing with others.

A thin smile curled the man’s lips. “Because I am going to make you an offer you’ll want to refuse.” Before Sin’s eyes, Augustus’s olive skin leached of color, more and more until the man before Sin appeared to be made entirely of translucent flesh.

The living crystal Augustus grinned at Sin’s stupefied expression. “I’d show you my wings as well, but I fear you aren’t yet ready for that display.”

“I… uh… you…” Sin’s brilliant contribution to the conversation.

“Young St. John, you’ll hear my offer.” Silver eyes bore into him. “And if you have an ounce of sense left in your head, you shall take it. For I am about to give you everything you deserve.”

A twist of fear went through his heart, because he was not so certain what he “deserved” was anything good.

Chapter Twenty

Sin did not quite know what to expect of Augustus’s home, but it was not this. He glanced around at the sedate yet finely appointed study in which he sat alone, a glass of brandy in one hand, the crackling warmth of a fire heating his trouser leg. It felt almost normal, as if he’d been plucked out of a nightmare and set down into another dream. It left him unsettled. His hand shook only a little as he took a deep, burning drink of his brandy.

Augustus strolled into the room in graceful ease. “Apologies for making you wait, Mr. Evernight. Cook was in a state over tonight’s dinner and Layla is off somewhere, unable to provide her assistance.”

Sin shoved up from his slouch, his mouth suddenly dry. “She lives here?” God. He did not want to see her. He couldn’t bear it.

As if Augustus knew Sin’s discomfort perfectly well – which the bastard likely did – the corners of his eyes crinkled, as he took the seat opposite Sin. “Yes. She is my ward at the moment.” He looked down at his hands, the backs of them hatch-marked with fine scars that shone white in the firelight. “However, I shall soon be leaving, and she shall need a new protector.”

The arm of the chair creaked beneath Sin’s grip. “If you dare suggest that I —”

“Come now, young St. John. You know perfectly well that I am suggesting it.” Augustus’s gaze was hard and direct. “Do not deceive yourself in thinking that you do not want the position.”

A flush heated Sin’s cheeks. “Doesn’t matter what I want, only what is right. Even if I were in the position to watch over…” He swallowed past his dry throat. “I’m bound.” To the bitch. The fine taste of brandy turned acid on his tongue.

A log upon the grate snapped, sending sparks up the flue. And Augustus sat back in his leather chair. “Yes. You are.” Black eyes bore into Sin as Augustus’s mellow voice flowed into him. “And what would you do to be free? Anything?”

Sin snorted without humor. “Enter another form of bondage, you mean?” He shook his head. “You can go to bloody hell if you think I’ll do so again.”

“Hell is a state of mind. And you’re already there, are you not?”

Sin lurched out of his seat, his heart pounding. The fire in the hearth flared high. “Fuck you, Mr. Augustus.”

The man bloody laughed. A soft, rolling laugh. A fucking mockery. And then his expression fell to deadly serious. “Sit. Down.”

When Sin did not move, Augustus waved his hand in a lazy fashion. Sin became a puppet on strings, his limbs no longer his own. Down he flopped into the chair, and there he stayed, not able to use his powers or move from his seat.

“Now,” said Augustus. “Give your rage a rest for a moment.” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his bent knees. “The fact is that Mab has never been weaker than at this moment.”

Sin didn’t know what to make of that knowledge. He was blood bound to serve her. It wasn’t as though he could destroy her. No matter how much he yearned to.

Smiling a bit, Augustus continued. “She used up much of her power to hold Aodh’s in check. Yes, I know all about Aodh,” he added. “And for the first time in centuries, several kin of her direct bloodline live.”

“Eliza.”

“Not merely Eliza, but you, Holly, the Ellis sisters.”

“We are of Mab’s blood?” Sweet gods, Sin would be ill.

“The Evernight’s and the Ellis sisters are elementals, born ages ago of Mab’s blood. Now, Eliza is the most direct of Mab’s heirs, which is why Mab is desperate to control her. Because Mab is weakest against those of her blood.” Augustus paused and stared at Sin. “You, however, have the distinction of being of her blood and able to control all the elements. What is more? You were born of Isley, a powerful demigod akin to the angels.” He smiled, this time with a strange sort of anticipation. “An Egyptian-based god at that.”

“Why,” Sin ground out, “does that matter?”

“Tell me,” Augustus asked, “did Archer ever mention how he’d been cursed?”

Sin swallowed, his gaze darting over Augustus’s face. Archer had drunk an elixir, and it had cursed him to a strange living death, locked into immortality while slowing turning into a being of… “Ice,” Sin croaked out. “He described himself as looking as though his flesh had been carved from ice.”