Outside the door, Alara went still. She gripped the cell phone she still carried after she’d gotten off a call with Penelope, the Moonstruck Pack’s resident go-to White Witch. Blinking to snap out of her shock, Alara had been about to walk back inside the dungeon when she heard the girl blurt out the name that had seized control of Alara’s thoughts.

Mistress Black. What the hell was the girl doing tangled up with that bitch?

Alara blinked and snapped to her senses. If the girl was running from Mistress Black, that meant she’d possibly seen her. Knew where she lived, perhaps.

If the girl had intel on the Order, Alara could use it to her advantage to find out how to destroy them.

So eager she couldn’t wait, she marched into the room. “What do you know?” she demanded.

“Alara!” Nik hissed, but she growled and snapped her teeth, which had sharpened to fangs, at him. A low snarl crept up her throat as she pinned her eyes to the terrified girl. The glow of her gaze shone pale, yellow light onto the doppelgänger’s face.

“Tell me,” Alara insisted, her voice scratchy, somewhere between woman and wolf. That dark desire for revenge burned hotter inside of her. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the girl’s neck, pressing her claws into her flesh. “Or I’ll rip your throat out.”

Nik’s jaw hit the floor, as did about everyone’s in the room. He stared at her a while longer before shaking his head and cautiously approaching her. “Have you lost your mind?” he said quietly. The muscle along his jaw tensed as he cast wary eyes from Alara’s face to the girl’s throat.

“Maybe,” Alara wanted to say. The memory of her sister, her delicate body soiled in her own blood, flashed across Alara’s mind. Her grip tightened. One of her claws pierced the girl’s skin, drawing blood and a cry of alarm from her. “Tell me what you know. Now.”

A strangled gasp slipped from the girl’s mouth as Alara began to squeeze.

Alara! snapped Nik’s voice in her head, loud enough to rattle her brain. And, luckily, enough to return her to her senses.

Alara blinked several times, and her grasp slackened. Her hand dropped to her side, and the girl immediately choked down a breath, grabbing at her throat. The red outline of Alara’s fingers was imprinted on the girl’s skin, bright against the muck, along with a thin red scratch. A dollop of fresh blood beaded on the wound, glistening.

Alara stared at those angry fingerprints and the scratch marks of her anger. She’d never lost her cool before, ever. Panic that she was losing control of herself made her body feel heavy. Order was something she’d craved. Her entire life was built upon structure, but that was one aspect of being royal she never resented. Order meant predictability, which meant safety.

Still reeling inside from what she’d done, she took a few slow steps toward the door, stumbling over the leg of a chair. “I…” Her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry.”

Nik watched her without blinking, brows stooped with concern. She knew she was in for an earful of questions later.

A pale figure caught her attention from the corner of her eye, and Alara looked up to see Penelope standing in the doorway. She hadn’t even heard the witch arrive. Sometimes, it frightened her how stealthy the creatures could be.

Penelope always reminded her of the Snow Queen. With her long white hair and ice-blue dress—her favorite color, it seemed, since that was the only color Alara had ever seen her wear—coupled with her sparkling snow-white complexion and blue eyes, Alara couldn’t help but look at her and shiver. Penelope’s personality, thankfully, was far from that of a snow queen. Warmth radiated from her, in part from how powerful Alara knew the witch to be. In the world of witches, few magical gifts were as powerful as White Magic, the power of life and light.

Nik at last tore his eyes off Alara and nodded at Penelope. “Hello, Pen. You’re looking well.”

Her eyes raked Nik down and back up. “Back at you.”

Alara squelched the growl that started to rise in her throat. She had to get a grip on her anger before she did something she regretted.

Still, the wolf in her kept the White Witch on her radar as she stepped forward.

“Penelope, creepy shape-shifting asshole. Creepy shape-shifting asshole, Penelope,” Nik said, gesturing between the witch and the doppelgänger. “Penelope will determine if you are what you say you are and if you’re telling the truth in general.” Nik crouched in front of the girl so they were eye level. She flinched, pressing her back against the chair as much as she could. “For your sake,” Nik said in a low voice, “I sure as hell hope so. You don’t want me to have to return.”

With a gruff nod to Penelope, who watched the interaction with raised brows, Nik spun on his heel and strolled from the room. He caught Alara’s wrist on the way out, pulling her along with him.

Out in the hallway, he tugged her to a stop and turned her to face him. “Care to explain what that was back there?”

“What what was?” Alara asked lightly, looking anywhere but at him. Her teeth ground together as she strained to keep her blush at bay.

“How you almost ripped a girl’s throat out, for starters,” Nik said in a low voice. He gazed at her intently. The worry was plainly written in the tightness of his expression.

Alara raised her chin and met his eyes. “I’ll explain when you tell me what’s been bothering you. You’ve been tense ever since the bonfire, when you first came back from your meeting with Gage.”

Nik blinked and then smiled. He kissed her forehead. “Sometimes I forget I can’t get anything by you. I’m not used to having people read me like a book.”

She softened at the kiss, pressing a fingertip into his broad, muscular chest. “You’d better get used to it, mister. I mean, Your Highness.”

His eyes narrowed, glittering with mischief. “Careful, love. Wouldn’t want to have to punish you. You know I hate all that formality bullshit.”

Alara stepped closer, pressing her breasts against him. She trailed her finger down his sternum and stomach, circling his navel before slowly proceeding south. He sucked in a gasp as her fingertip discreetly dipped below his waistline to his crotch, where the fabric was starting to tighten. “I’d say it depends on what kind of punishment you have in mind,” she whispered silkily.

He growled a sigh, leaning in.

No matter how many times they touched, the warmth of his mouth always set her on fire. She closed her eyes, leaning into him as his tongue grazed hers, stroking it as his lips worked their magic in slow, savoring movements. She was stunned a little when he at last pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open, a sense of contented bewitchment making her thoughts slow.

He watched her, a slow grin lighting up his face.

Alara suppressed a smile and swatted at his arm. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

She started to walk back toward the dungeon to listen to the interrogation, but Nik caught her hand. She looked at it and then at him, raising a brow.

The cocky glimmer was gone from Nik’s eyes, replaced by the serious look he got when he meant business. “Not just yet, killer,” he said, easing her toward the stairs.

She resisted at first, glancing over her shoulder at the dungeon and wanting so badly to hear what the doppelgänger had to say. “What if we miss something important?” What if I miss something that could help me find the woman who ordered my family’s deaths? she thought to herself.

“If anything of immediate importance comes up, Gage has promised to notify me.”

“You talked to Gage?”

He tapped his temple as they ascended the stairs. “Through the were-bond. It’s especially strong between us since he’s both our High King now and my brother by blood.”

“Oh,” was all she could think of to say. Disappointment settled on her shoulders, but she resisted the biting urge to argue. “Where are we going?”

That wicked, mischievous glint she’d grown to adore flashed across her beloved’s eyes. “To do some investigating.”

Penelope curiously stared at the creature in front of her. While she was a big witch and could handle herself, she couldn’t help but feel more exposed to the creature since Gage, Nik, and Alara had left, Gage to call the DPI and check on his mate, the worrywart, and Alara and Nik, who the hell knew? Danica must have been too freaked out to come inside the dungeon. Penelope had spoken with her in the hall when she’d first arrived, where the were queen was waiting patiently for her mate. Penelope couldn’t blame Danica—the doppelgänger made her whole body rigid with tension.

She’d heard of doppelgängers, of course. Had she seen one? No, even being as old as she was. White Witches often lived extended lives thanks to their regenerative powers. She’d thought she’d encountered every manner of strange creature in the Underworld, but this one downright fascinated her.

The girl stared back at her without blinking, a slight smile on her face. It was unnerving, like a wax doll’s smile. Those damn things had always creeped her out.

Snap out of it. Act like the professional you are.

Summoning a camera from thin air with a pop and a flash of white light, she muttered a levitation spell. The object hovered in the air, suspended in front of the dungeon, its lens aimed at the doppelgänger and Penelope. With a flick of her wrist, Penelope had it recording.

She cleared her throat and walked around the girl, circling her once. “What is your name?”

A grin. “Which one?”

Penelope raised a brow, stopping in front of the girl and crossing her arms. “You think this is a game? That the wolves won’t kill you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can always find a new body.” She looked Penelope over as she said it.

A chill crawled up Penelope’s spine. She had the sense the creature in front of her wasn’t exactly evil, but it wasn’t entirely good, either. It simply… was. It did what it needed to in order to survive.

Even if that meant invading someone else’s body.

“What’s the matter?”

Penelope blinked, startled out of her thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“You look pale,” the girl said in that eerie monotone voice of hers. “Do I unsettle you?”

That’s an understatement. More like scare the shit out of me. The urge to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible took over. Swallowing hard, she said, “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

Penelope pursed her lips. “I need to scan you.”

“You can try.” Another cunning smile.

Oh, so you want to play games, huh?

Penelope looked at the two guards standing watch just inside the room, by the door. “You may wish to step out. I can handle this.”

They looked at each other, not moving.

Penelope growled a sigh. “The extraction spell I’m about to perform may have… unpleasant side effects on anyone else in the room.” When they still didn’t move, she elaborated. “Vomiting, diarrhea, reliving every painful, horrible memory you’ve ever had, for starters. Oh, and let’s not forget there is the slight chance you could get stuck in one of your memories, good or bad. The spell makes no distinction.”

That got their attention. One guard started out the door, but the other paused. “Wait. Our liege said—”

“Nik entrusted me with getting the information he needed. And as I don’t see him or Alara, or the High King or Queen, around, that means I’m in charge. Now, get out. Last warning.” The sooner she could be done with this, the better. The creature made her skin crawl.

With a “hmph,” she turned and raised her arms, palms facing outward toward the bound doppelgänger. She heard a door close and felt the wolves’ presence leave the room as her fingertips began to shine with sparkling white light.

A low, melodic hum filled the room, as if hundreds of sets of fingers were sliding along the rims of half-filled wineglasses. Strings of light slowly glided from her fingers as she chanted in an old language long forgotten. As the threads grew longer, they branched out, their shimmering fingers reaching for the doppelgänger.

The girl stared at the strands, not flinching as they seeped inside her head and into the darkest recesses of her memory.

Now, let’s find out your secrets.

The spell always took a few minutes to settle, for the prongs to find their places. The spell had to move slowly so as not to damage the brain. One wrong move, and someone could be brain dead.

It felt as if an eternity passed. All the while, the doppelgänger remained still, staring back at Penelope with dull eyes. Her whole expression was completely lifeless. Penelope resisted the urge to work faster.

When she came into her powers, she took an oath to never harm anyone without just cause. So far, the girl hadn’t done anything more than freak her out. She couldn’t help what she was, just as Penelope couldn’t help being a witch.

At long last, she felt the magic find its bearings and settle. With all the care of a surgeon, Penelope began to pull back on the strings, to extract whatever information the doppelgänger guarded. But it wouldn’t come. It was as if the memories were snagged on something.

What?

She tugged again, applying a little more pressure. No, she was sure of it. The memories really were stuck.

“What the hell?” she breathed. In all her life, she’d never encountered anything like this. Sure, some people were excellent at guarding their thoughts, making the memories feel as if they were being pulled from mud, but Penelope was always able to wrench them free. She had never failed, and for the first time in her life, she was afraid she might not succeed.

Warning bells went off in her head. Honestly, she was probably freaking out over nothing. Doppelgängers inhabited other people’s bodies—thusly, there shouldn’t be anything odd about their brains. At least, that’s what her spellbooks said.

Knowing she just needed to tug a little harder, Penelope braced herself and gave a stronger pull.

This time, something tugged back.

She gasped, stumbling forward slightly. Her brain reeled as her heart hammered inside her chest. Had she imagined that? She had to have. No one, not even the most iron-willed witch or warlock, was capable of controlling the extraction threads embedded in their brains. Not only would it be incredibly painful, but it could also cause irreparable harm to the patient. Convinced she was only paranoid and had imagined things, Penelope took a deep breath to steady her nerves and tried pulling again.

This time, something yanked her forward so violently that her face nearly slammed into the dungeon’s bars. Spooked, she jerked the threads back, but her magic wouldn’t come. Penelope’s heartbeat kicked up several notches as she bordered on hysteria. “What the…?” she gasped. Her magic thrashed against whatever it was caught on, but that only caused whatever had hold of her to pull harder. She winced, struggling to break free as the magic was leeched from her. All witches’ magic was rooted deep within their souls, the source of their power. It felt as if her veins were lighting on fire. A cry of pain slipped out, and she promptly bit her tongue. Her feet slid along the ground. She dug in her heels, the soles of her shoes squeaking along the floor as she was dragged forward, toward the girl.

A sharp pain started in her chest, and she exhaled violently. It felt as though someone had driven a needle straight into her heart, and it had splintered inside of her. With every pulse, the pinpricks of pain intensified, spreading along her arms and legs. Her veins glowed bright white in her arms. The light gushed from her fingertips in a torrent of magic. Oh God, she could actually see the magic drain from her body.

No, not her magic—her soul.

Futilely, she tried calling it back, but she was so sleepy and weak now. Her eyelids drooped, causing the hot tears gathered in the rims of her eyes to spill onto her cheeks.

A quiet, dark laugh chilled the air.

Penelope’s watery eyes widened.

The doppelgänger’s eyes were black. She smiled. “Finally,” spoke a different voice, this one much older sounding. “Someone useful.”

Penelope’s face paled as she shrank away in fear, at least as far as the threads that bound her to that nightmare would let her. “Who are you?” she rasped.

The doppelgänger’s eyes glowed purple. “I am death.”

The strings of light attached to the doppelgänger’s head slowly began to turn black, as if dipped in ink. Penelope nearly gagged on the stench and raw power of—

She gasped. Black Magic.

She was suffocating. Oh, help! She couldn’t breathe! “What… are… you… doing?” she choked out, but the last of her breath was sucked from her as the ink found the other end of the lines and poured itself into her veins.

It burned. Oh merciful God, it stung. The Black Magic seared her blood, spreading quicker and quicker until it felt as if her whole body was aflame.

Through the blinding pain, she thought she screamed, but she couldn’t be sure. Everything was so, so quiet.

And then, blissfully, mercifully, everything was black.