And she arose from her deathbed in a gossamer gown, with eyes the color of starlight and hair as black as the night. And those who were her captors trembled, for the scent of death and madness emanated from her soul, and yet she was not dead. She moved like the spiders that creep in the treetops, and none could look away. Taking her first captor in hand, she fed deep and ravenous. And so it was that Myst, Queen of the Indigo Court, was born from the blood of the dead.

He leaned in close, his mouth near her ear. __ance with me.

How different her life would be if Orrin hadn__ contacted her in July. She wouldn__ be embroiled in kidnapping, espionage, and murder.

Look at me, Nat. I won__ bite._ There was a long pause before he said, __ard.

Nat,_ he whispered and lowered his head. Her heart missed a beat as his soft mouth brushed against hers. Then his lips were atop hers, firmly, his tongue sliding against them.

I want more than last night. I want you.