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gray soul without the permission of mat soul's owner. Soon no one, not even a man or woman with the purest soul, would be able to deny him, and when that happened, he would be unstoppable.
    Ciro smiled, and the girl stopped struggling. Amazing what a disarming smile would do. He knew he was handsome, and that some females placed high values on his outward attributes. The girl stumbled at Ms smile, as her legs were much shorter than those of his soldiers who moved forward so quickly, but she no longer appeared quite so terrified.
    "What is your name?" Ciro asked.
    Diella huffed once and stalked away, searching the camp for someone else to annoy while Ciro attended to the business at hand.
    The girl before him licked her lips. "My name is Ilda. I... I don't understand. These men killed my husband and my brother." She tried to yank away from the soldiers who held her fast. "Why? What do you ..."
    Ciro raised a silencing hand, and the girl ended her tirade abruptly. "I am Prince Ciro, Ilda, and I require your assistance." He could be done with the girl so quickly she would never know what had happened, but there was no joy in taking what he needed with such speed.
    Hda lifted a callused hand so that it rested between her small breasts. "You have need of me, Prince Ciro?"
    "Yes. I'm afraid no one else will do."
    She shook her head. "But why did these men kill my family? What purpose could that serve?"
    Ciro's powers, the powers of me Isen Demon, grew stronger every day. He realized the emergence of a new power now, capturing the girl's eyes and holding them. He reached not for her soul, but for her weak mind. I am your family now. You are not afraid. You trust me above all others. You will now walk forward and sit on my knee.
    Ilda walked toward him and sat as he had instructed. She weighed almost nothing, it seemed. She was tiny, and he had grown larger and stronger in the past few months. In truth, the girl was no more substantial than a bug he might step upon, or a fly he might swat away.
    She reached out and shyly caressed a long strand of Ciro's fair blond hair. Her eyes were dreamy, soft and unfocused. If he touched her mind and suggested that she have sex with him here and now, in front of an entire army, she would not demur. But Ciro's lust for women had been replaced by a determination to have Rayne, who would soon be his wife, bear a sofl who would be like no other. No, it was not lust he felt as he held this girl in his arms. It was hunger. Deep, undeniable, hunger.
    She stared into his eyes, rapt. Enthralled. Waiting.
    Offer me your throat.
    Ilda tilted her head to one side and brushed back a length of her own dirty-blond hair. Ciro saw the vein pulsing there, just beneath her pale skin. He lowered his head and kissed the flesh lightly, then trailed the tip of his tongue along the vein. He smelled the blood he needed, and felt the soul he craved dancing just out of reach.
    Ilda placed a steadying hand on his shoulder and sighed, as if she desperately wanted what he was about to offer. It was interesting that he could reach into the girl's mind and make her his in all ways, but there was no challenge in taking a soul in this manner, there was no joy without the fear.
    Ciro abruptly disconnected himself from the girl. Her body twitched, and the hand that had been resting on his shoulder began to push and slap ineffectually. "What are you doing to me? Let me go!" She tried to struggle, but could not get away. She was no match for him. No one was.
    "Fight me, Ilda," Ciro commanded as he buried his face against her throat. "Fight this ugly death I offer you, if you can."
    He felt her growing fear as she struggled, tasted it as he bit into the vein that had teased him. Blood and a tainted soul poured into Ciro, nourishing him. Ilda might look innocent enough to the average eye, but she was far from innocent. She'd stolen, lied, and cheated. Why did he worry about not being able to take pure souls when there were so few of