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  For my friends who keep me sane in the midst of utter insanity, and to all of those intrepid warriors who don't live their lives by the standards of others. Those fearless souls who know the price of independent thought and individuality, and who are willing to pay it. Vive la difference!

  For those who have walked through the fires of hell and rather than fall to its flames, have emerged battered, but victorious. In the immortal words of Ovid: Quin nunc quoque frigidus artus, dum loquor, horror habet, parsque est meminisse doloris--Even now while I tell it, cold horror envelops me and my pains return the minute I think of it. We can never escape the pain of our pasts, or the flashbacks that assault us when we dare to let our thoughts drift unattended, but we can choose to not let it ruin the future we, alone, can build for ourselves.

  And for those who are currently trapped in a bad situation. May you find the resolute strength it takes to free yourself, and to finally see the beauty that lives inside you. You are resplendent, and you deserve respect and love. Don't let the minions of hatred or cruelty define you, or steal away your own humanity. When our compassion and ability to love and appreciate others go, then our bullies and opressors have truly won, for it is not they who are harmed, but rather we who lose our souls and hearts to the same miserable bitterness that caused them to lash out against us. The cycle can be broken--it must be broken, even though the path is never easy or without cost. Yet victory is made sweeter when you know it came from within you, without violent retribution. The best revenge is to leave them mired in their hateful misery while you learn to bask in the warmth of self-esteem and happiness. Never forget that broken wings can and do heal in time, and that those scarred wings can carry the eagle to the top of the highest mountain.

  Most of all, for my wonderful boys who have filled me with more love than I ever imagined possible. You are the greatest gift I have ever known. And for my husband who dared to fight my demons with me and prove to me that there really are people out there who can find the lotus even when it's drowning in mud. Thank you for being the man I only thought existed in fairytales and dreams. I love you all! May the best day in your past be the worst day in your future.

  PROLOGUE

  "You have got to be the biggest manwhore in the entire universe. What are you trying to do? Tie Caillen for the record on how many people you can sleep with in a single month? And just so you know, his is twenty-two."

  Maris Sulle, Darling's oldest and dearest friend, laughed at his dry tone. "You're only jealous you didn't get the waiter's digies."

  Leaning back in his ornately padded chair, Darling snorted in response. He swirled the wine in his crystal glass while they finished eating lunch in one of the most exclusive restaurants in Perona--the capital city of the southern part of the Caronese Empire where Darling's family had ruthlessly ruled for more than three thousand years.

  After the brutal suck-ass morning he'd already had, he really wanted something much stronger than this weak shit to drink, but his public persona kept him from ordering the hard liquor he craved.

  He could only drink that whenever he was alone. Even then, he had to be careful no one found out lest they discover who and what he really was.

  "I thought you were still involved with..." Darling paused as he mentally sorted through the lengthy roll of men his best friend had been with over the last year. "I can't even remember his name now."

  "Gregor?"

  Darling shook his head as he finally recalled the last boyfriend's name, and it wasn't Gregor. He'd fear senility had already set in, but it was more he had a lot of other things on his mind. Besides, no one could keep up with Maris's ever revolving list of boy toys. "I'm behind apparently. The last one I remember was named Destin."

  "Drustan," Maris corrected. "And yes, you are. You really should try to keep up. That was a good two months ago, and I've had three since then." He looked down at the number on his mobile and smiled as he stored it. "Soon to be four."

  "Does Gregor know he's being replaced?"

  "Oh don't get me started on that repulsive ape. I caught him in flagrante delicto with his personal secretary. His secretary... really? If you're going to be such a slut, the least you could do is not be a common, cliched one. Right?"

  Darling laughed, then took a deep drink of wine before he spoke again. "I'll keep that in mind for future reference. The last thing I'd ever want to be accused of is being a cliched slut."

  "Oh please. You're such a monk. I'm not even sure you've lost your virginity." With a deep, horrified expression, Maris looked up from his mobile and slapped his hand over his mouth as he realized what he'd said and the land mine of pain he'd unintentionally exploded all over Darling. "I'm so incredibly sorry, Dar. That was so insensitive of me. I didn't mean it. Gah, I can't believe I said that to you, of all people. I wasn't thinking, sweetie. You know I would never, ever hurt you. Not for anything... You can punch me if it'll make you feel better." He clenched his eyes shut and tensed, waiting to be hit.

  It took Darling several more seconds before he could club the monster from his past back into the closet, slam the door on it, and then speak over the surge of barbed emotions that gutted him.

  "It's all right, Mari," he said finally, his voice deceptively calm as he stroked the crystal decanter on the table. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

  Still, that didn't stop it from cutting all the way to the marrow of his bones.

  Darling set the glass on the table and wished he could rip some of his memories straight out of his brain. Most pathetic part? As horrifying as that had been, it wasn't at the top of the list of things he'd kill to forget.

  Opening his eyes, Maris reached out and covered Darling's hand with his own. "You're the strongest person I've ever known. You know that, right?"

  Strange, he didn't feel that way. Most days he felt even more battered inside than he was outside. And here lately those feelings of rage and resentment, of unrelenting hatred and vengeance, were forcing him into a place of darkness he wasn't sure he could come back from.

  Before Darling could stop himself, he pulled away from Maris's touch and brushed his hand over the latest bruise on his cheek. Luckily the long hair he wore covering the left side of his face concealed it and the deep, rancid scar no amount of plastic surgery could get rid of.

  Another pugnacious memory he could do without, and a perpetual reminder that he really was in this world alone. Friends were friends, but at the end of the day, they all went home. Not even Maris could be with him 24/7. And though he might have tiny slices of freedom for a while, sooner or later, Arturo got nervous and had him hauled back to hell.

  His mobile alarm chimed.

  That's what you get for thinking about the bastard. Nothing like summoning the dybbuk up from his stygian hole.

  Maris scowled. "What's that for?"

  Darling cut the alarm off, then slid his mobile back into his pocket. "My uncle's activated my chip." A lovely nano tracking device that was so microscopic it couldn't be located, removed, or jammed. But the one thing Arturo hadn't counted on was Darling's ingenuity in writing a program that would intercept his uncle's access to the chip. "I set the alarm to notify me whenever he sends his goons out to drag me home." A constant in his life that
always firebombed his temper.

  How the hell could he still be deemed a minor when he was twenty-eight years old?

  Only by something as backward as Caronese law...

  A law originally designed to protect his people from the reign of an immature monarch. Instead, it'd proven to be a prison sentence that had hung around his neck like a perpetual noose.

  And honestly, he was getting really sick of all this shit. Kere, his Sentella alter ego, wanted blood. Any day now, he expected that darkest part of himself to take over, forget all consequences, and lash out against the world. May the gods help whoever was in the line of fire when that happened.

  In the past, he'd been able to quell his outrage with cold rationale, but every day his fury was getting harder and harder to harness. No amount of logic soothed him anymore. If anything, the attempts to rationalize his situation and the injustice of his life only provoked him more.

  He felt like he was starting to go insane from it all.

  Daintily, Maris wiped his mouth with his linen napkin. "We should get going, then. I don't want you in trouble."

  It didn't matter. The fact he breathed got him in to trouble.

  I can't take this much longer...

  But he had to. It wasn't just his life on the line. It was his mother's, brother's, and sister's. And unlike his older brother Ryn, he wasn't about to turn his back on his family. Ever. Even if he hated his mother more than he loved her, he couldn't sacrifice her to his uncle.

  He would never spit on his father's memory that way.

  But he was getting really tired of holding that line. Sixteen years of utter bullshit had taken its toll on him. Not just physically, but mentally.

  C'mon, Dar. Just eighteen more months. You can do it.

  Then he'd inherit his father's empire and finally be in control of his own destiny.

  You don't really think that'll happen, do you?

  He had to. Even though his gut told him that he'd most likely be murdered between then and now, it was all that kept him sane these days. That and the one person he couldn't talk about to anyone.

  Not even Maris.

  That secret was currently the only lifeline he had.

  Darling lifted his hand to signal the waiter that they were ready for the check. If his uncle's men followed their usual routine, he only had about fifteen minutes before he was dragged out of here by royal guards.

  That was the last degredation he needed, especially after this morning's round of Humiliate Darling in Front of the Ruling Gerents.

  Don't think about it. He would be governor soon and then they'd all learn just how not weak he was.

  He pulled his card out and laid it on the table. He didn't need to look at their bill. It didn't matter to him if it was right or wrong. Time meant more to him than money.

  The waiter came by, flashed a dimpled smile at Maris, and took the check and card.

  He was back in record time... with a small container of the cake Maris had started to order, then changed his mind about. There was something to be said for Maris's outrageous flirting. They always received the best service in the United Systems.

  Darling pressed his thumb against the scanner, then signed his name on the electronic ledger. As soon as the payment was accepted, he got up and followed Maris toward the entrance.

  "Where are you heading after this?" Maris asked as he held the door open for him.

  What Maris really meant was where would Darling try to hide to keep from being dragged home like a felon, and beaten because he'd dared to have an afternoon of peace out of his uncle's sight.

  "I'll grab my fighter and head over to Caillen's for a while. I haven't had a chance to see his daughter since she started walking. What about you?"

  Maris glanced back into the restaurant. "I want to grab something, all right. But it's not a fighter... Or maybe he is. With that tight body, it is possible."

  In spite of his disgust at having to leave so abruptly, Darling smiled. It was what he loved most about Maris. No matter how bad he felt, Maris could always amuse him. "Seriously, you want to come with?"

  "Sure. I can always stare at Caillen. That man..." Maris bit his knuckle with lustful glee.

  Darling laughed as they joined the huge crowd on the street and had to push their way through the sea of shuffling bodies. "Better be careful, his wife might get jealous."

  "True. And I'm not dumb enough to upset a woman who knows how to use a blaster and a blade. I like my body parts attached."

  Darling didn't respond. Damn, the crowd was always thick this time of day, but this was ridiculous. He could barely move.

  Then again, he should be grateful. It would slow down his uncle's men and help conceal him from them.

  His alarm buzzed again.

  "Bastard," he snarled under his breath before he looked down and reached to silence it.

  "Dar! Forward front! Point one!"

  With reflexes honed by the best assassins in the business who'd taught him to protect his vital areas, Darling turned at Maris's military command that warned him of an imminent attack. The instant he moved, he felt the sting of a knife sliding into his flesh, just below his shoulder blade.

  A knife that had been aimed at his heart.

  Cursing, he reached around to catch the assassin's wrist. For several seconds, Darling's blue eyes glared into those deadly gray ones that were too stupid to realize their owner had just made a fatal mistake.

  The assassin yanked at the knife.

  Grinding his teeth against the pain that rushed through him, Darling let the assassin pull it free of his flesh. But the moment the blade was out, he tightened his grip on the man's wrist and head-butted him. Wrenching the assassin's arm, he heard the bone snap before the knife fell from his broken hand. The assassin came at him with another knife he'd pulled from a sheath on his leg.

  Bring it...

  Darling jumped back, out of his reach. Stomping his left heel on the pavement, Darling ejected the blade in the toe of his boot and used its sharp point to catapult the fallen knife on the street up so that he could catch it with his hand.

  The people surrounding them realized what was going on and began to scatter, screaming in fear of being accidentally injured or killed in the fight.

  His attacker charged again.

  That cold, repressed demonic part of Darling salivated for retaliatory blood. He gave the assassin an insidious smile as he twirled out of the assassin's reach. He rolled around the man's back, then turned and stabbed him in the shoulder.

  His attacker screamed out and whirled to lunge at Darling. Smiling, Darling motioned at him with both hands, daring him to come closer. The assassin scowled at the knife Darling had cradled in his palm--the way he held it let the bastard know that he was as proficient with a blade as the assassin was.

  Probably more so. Had Darling made a bill-kill attack, his victim would have already been dead and not fighting him.

  For the first time, fear darkened the assassin's gray eyes as he finally realized he was in over his head. He dropped his knife and reached for his blaster.

  His mistake.

  Not wanting to chance an innocent getting shot and killed by a moron's incompetence, Darling grabbed the assassin's arm and twisted until he was at the assassin's back. Before the assassin could recover, Darling grabbed his chin, lifted it up, and made one hard slash across his throat.

  Darling shoved him forward.

  Choking, the assassin fell to his knees on the sidewalk. He clutched at the gaping wound, trying to block the blood that flowed between his fingers.

  His anger boiling, Darling stood back to watch. The decent part of him wanted to finish the assassin off and end his suffering. But the part of him that was slowly devouring his conscience, enjoyed seeing the paid assassin's struggle to live.

  Let him die in utter agony. It was what he deserved.

  Better him than me.

  Darling quickly glanced around to make sure there was no other threat coming for him
. His gaze met Maris's and he saw the horror in his friend's eyes. He thought it was over what he'd done, until Maris stepped forward.

  "You're bleeding really badly on your back. Are you okay?"

  Only then did Darling feel the pain again. "Yeah. It hurts like hell, but I'll live." He'd had far worse wounds than this. And those given to him by people who supposedly loved him.

  The assassin continued to writhe on the ground, begging for mercy in a black jacket that held over three dozen hash marks on its sleeve--a sick accounting that bragged about how many people he'd murdered. And the killer had intended to add another for Darling's life.

  But the marks that truly enraged him were the seven that had dots over them.

  Murdered children.

  Darling curled his lip at the repugnant bastard as his blind fury took him over.

  His handful of friends who ran the Sentella with him had dubbed him "Kere" as a joke. The Caronese god of death and caliginosity who ruled in their version of hell, Kere was said to pull all of his sustenance from the blood of his enemies. The darkest of gods lived to fight and drew vim from those who begged him for clemency. Since Darling was normally even keeled and easygoing, his Sentella partner Hauk had thought it funny to label him that.

  But now...

  There was no pity or compassion as he stared at the killer who was dying from the vicious wound Darling had given him. In fact, he only felt one thing...

  Would you die already, and shut the fuck up while you do it?

  Before he even realized what he was doing, Darling grabbed the man's blaster from his holster and shot him with it.

  A single shot through the back of his head.

  Darling stood there on the street with the blaster smoking and his hand as steady as it could be. Worst of all, he felt nothing about his actions. No regret. No remorse.

  Total emptiness.

  He wasn't sure when it'd happened, but he'd become as callous and numb as any assassin he'd ever known. His emotions were now strangers to him.

  There was only one person who could still reach past it and make him feel something other than his own bitter pain and rage.

  Please God, help me...

  This time, he knew the horror in Maris's dark eyes was definitely over his actions.

  "You're really beginning to scare me, Dar."