MacRieve (Immortals After Dark) by Kresley Cole

controlled his strength.”
    Correct and correct. The humans had been clever, forcing each inmate into that mystical collar, a “torque” to neutralize the immortals’ abilities.
    “His beast could no’ overpower this?” Rónan asked.
    My beast could no’ rise. The collar had prevented it for the weeks Will had been imprisoned, the longest he’d ever gone since Ruelle.
    Munro must’ve shaken his head in answer, because Ben said, “There’s more you’re no’ telling us?”
    Munro hesitated. “The prison break . . . left all our allies there at a disadvantage,” he said, hedging. Oh, aye, Munro knows much.
    In the melee that followed the escape, amid the chaos and fighting and explosions, some immortals had been able to remove their torques—the most evil ones.
    Like the succubae.
    Will’s worst nightmare was indeed running through a hellish maze of fire and blood while a pack of ravenous seed-feeders hunted him.
    Only it’d happened. Except for Ruelle’s appearance, it had all happened.
    The bottle of whiskey shook when he turned it up. How hard he’d fought not to be gang-raped in full view of a throng of Loreans. . . .
    Munro finally answered, “Let’s just say that Will has every right to be in his current state. Does no’ mean we’re going to allow it any longer.”
    Allow it? You should no’ even know about this, you nosy, self-righteous prick!
    Ben said, “If he could just get revenge, he could beat this.”
    “The ones responsible are out of our reach,” Munro said.
    Utterly out of reach. Dixon had already been taken care of. Commander Webb—the mortal leading the Order—couldn’t be located, not even by the most powerful witches, wizards, oracles, or Sorceri. Magister Chase, a.k.a. the Blademan, who’d run the prison, had changed sides, now protected by powerful Loreans.
    Nïx was untouchable.
    When Will had gone to call her out over shafting him, she’d nonchalantly remindedhim that he’d vowed not to tell anyone about their meeting. When he’d accused her of working with Webb, she’d coolly replied, “I use every means at my disposal to shape fate. The Order is a powerful shaping tool.”
    And then she’d told him why he couldn’t exact vengeance against the Blademan. A verra disturbing reason why.
    “I’m going to confront him with what I’ve learned,” Munro said. “If we come to blows, do no’ get between us, no matter what occurs.” The lads were still vulnerable to harm. “Why do you no’ go for a run?”
    Just as Will heard Munro at the stairs, Rónan called, “Probably bad timing and all, but I wanted to give you a yo! concerning Head Case. While you were gone, I had some expenses I had to peg to his credit card. I put it right back into his wallet.”
    That little prat came into my room and stole my card. At the thought of Rónan seeing him passed out, the back of Will’s neck heated. Which might’ve been a remnant of . . . shame.
    Munro called, “Could give a shite, Rónan.”
    “Beauty!”
    With each of his brother’s steps, Will grew more enraged. Confront me, Munro? His beast was rising. His claws sank into his palms. If Munro cast him a pitying expression, he’d flay his brother. He’d whip his arse—
    Munro entered. They shared a look between them.
    With an “Oh, you sodding, self-righteous prick!” Will attacked.



FIVE
    S omeone’s in the house with me.
    Chloe’s eyes shot open. She’d just awakened in her bed to the sense that she wasn’t alone.
    Her hearing had leveled off at last—it was still revved up but not insanely so—yet she detected nothing unusual. Just the windstorm outside.
    Paranoia? Was the book getting to her?
    If someone had managed to break in . . . She sighed. After the last few weeks she’d had, she could almost feel sorry for the burglar.
    Her dad hadn’t returned, hadn’t contacted her or answered her numerous calls in more than a month. Yesterday, his number had been disconnected.
    Still, she