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rampant itch attacking his skin has subsided now he’s answered Kane’s silent summons, but he waits, and only when the door clicks shut and Jade is gone does Rajah shed his cloak and reappear.
    Burning fingers squeeze his throat, crashing him into the wall. Sandstone ridges jam into his spine, pain flaring, and hot demon breath caresses his lips, the ashy taste searing his mouth dry. “Rajahni Seth,” hisses Kane, an inch from Rajah’s face. Sharp fingernails sink into Rajah’s throat, warm blood trickling. “Give me Nino’s soul.”
    Kane’s body is burning hot, unyielding, his fingers crushing Rajah’s neck, immensely strong. Rajah’s thrall bangles burn, but to no avail. Rajah can’t swallow, and saliva spills from his mouth, but dark amusement makes him laugh.
    “Give it to me.” Kane’s teeth sharpen, glinting, and he bangs Rajah’s head into the stone for emphasis.
    Rajah’s vision doubles briefly, dizzy pain sheeting through his skull, but he grins, satisfaction bubbling black inside. “I can’t,” he chokes.
    “What?” Shock flushes Kane’s face red, and his grip loosens.
    “It’s in a very safe place. Safe even from me. Command all you want, it isn’t happening. And soon I’ll have the other three.”
    Kane laughs, and scarlet flames lick his hair, steam hissing. He shoves Rajah away, watching him fall. “Do you really think you can escape me?”
    Rajah stumbles to his knees, choking, ashy residue still harsh on his tongue. He touches his warm bangle, where the engraving still shines clear after nearly four centuries. He doesn’t need to read it to know the words: odium, primordium, terminus, animus.
    Four words, four souls. Drink them down, the bangles will shatter and he’ll be free. Free to go where he pleases, love as he chooses and not at a demon’s behest. Free to live a mortal life.
    For four hundred years, he’s searched, and fate has finally brought him here, to the new world and Melbourne, where the streets and bridges drip with fell magical energy and dark fae auras glow bright and unfettered under fat southern stars. If freedom lurks anywhere, it’s here.
    He struggles up from the floor, but Kane’s hand descends on his shoulder, unyielding. “No. Stay on your knees. You look good there.”
    Hatred radiates off Rajah’s skin like sunburn, and he glares up at Kane, the floorboards hard beneath his knees. Kane traces a finger along Rajah’s jaw, and Rajah has to grit his teeth to stop from snapping.
    Kane laughs. “Do you like the word minion , Rajah? I’ve always preferred slave myself. Tell me what you are.”
    Rajah bites his tongue, blood spurting, but the thrall bangles sear and itch. Compulsion swells the words to bursting in his larynx and he must speak or suffocate. “I am . . . your slave.”
    “Again.” Kane’s fingertips trace Rajah’s lips, hot, tingling arcs of blue static crackling.
    “I am your slave.” Niter stings Rajah’s tongue, and he swallows it along with his humiliation, thick, black, festering.
    “Yes, you are. Defy me, and every grotesque agony I can dream up will become your best friend. And I assure you, when it comes to torment, I have a vast imagination.”
    Rajah swallows again, licking stinging lips. “You can’t stop me.”
    “No.” Kane twists his fingers in Rajah’s dark locks, hungry, and his voice roughens like sandpaper screeching on glass, smoke hissing between his teeth. “But I can make sure you spend the next six hundred years invisible so people won’t run screaming from how hideous you are. I can make you vomit blood every time you smell a woman’s juices. I can make your cock sting with the fire of a thousand scorpions every time you fuck. That’s a tough call when you need to fuck to live. How would you like that?”
    Rajah stares up at him, inches from rubbing his face in Kane’s lap. Kane is breathless and hard, his cock straining against his pants, his fingers clenched in Rajah’s hair, forcing him