High Voltage (Fever #10)(114)

He’d passed her tests with flying colors, helping her daughter evolve, even as he’d believed he was losing her, giving his love with no guarantee of a return.

Tucking her wings close to her body, Y’rill soared up into the sky above Dublin, watching over the city Dani loved, studying what only the most ancient among Hunters could see—the countless red threads connecting lives that were destined to make history together. There was pattern and purpose to all things.



One day, if she chose, Dani, too, would fly among the stars, studying worlds and tying those fateful threads. Only those with the purest, deepest, most resilient hearts could handle the delicate task. Her daughter certainly fit the bill and would excel at weaving happy endings for others.

But now it was time for her to enjoy her own.





Let my love open the door to your heart

SOMEWHERE IN TIME…

ON A PLANET WITH low gravity and four moons, a black-skinned beast bounded across sandy dunes. He was her best friend and lover.

At the beast’s side ran a Hel-Cat, both her child and mother.

Above them soared a majestic raven-dark Hunter, forged of passion, fire, and a teaspoon of stardust.

Dani O’Malley had a family. She belonged.





THE FOLLOWING SCENES WERE written during Feversong, but for one reason or another I either cut and rewrote them a different way or simply chose not to include them. As my team and I were sorting through my notes, they enjoyed the alternate glimpses so much, I decided to include them here.

DELETED CHRISTIAN MACKELTAR SCENE FROM FEVERSONG:

Barrons said, “Do you remember All Hallow’s Eve when we summoned the old god at the circle stones of Ban Drochaid?”

“How could I forget,” Christian replied with a tight smile. “You screwed me and I got hurled into the Silvers where I turned into this.”

“I was hurled into the Silvers that night, too. Because of you. I merely escaped more quickly.”

“And just how did you do that?” Christian said dryly.



“Do you recall what I told you before we began the ritual?”

“Yes. Not a bloody thing.”

“I told you one thing you needed to remember and you ignored it. I said: ‘When it rises, greet it with warmth and respect.’?”

“The foul thing came exploding out of the earth, gunning for me. It was dark and ancient and smelled of bones and graveyards. And I was supposed to smile and say hello?”



“You are dark and will one day be ancient and you don’t merely smell of death, you’re the most lethal horseman of the apocalypse. Your legend will forever precede you. Yes, I bloody expected you to be courteous, yet you ran as if it was the vilest thing you’d ever encountered. It responded to you in kind. Our plan that night succeeded. You didn’t welcome it. It left.”

“Well, why the hell was the onus on me that night?”

“You attract power.”

Christian went still. He’d often felt that way as a lad, strolling the bens and vales of his Highlands, tethered by a deep bond to all of it, earth to sky, dirt to stars, feeling as if the heavens themselves sometimes shot out a milky tendril to caress him, noticed him, observed him with curiosity. His druid connection to all living things was intense. He’d not even been able to fish as a lad because he couldn’t bear the pain of the pierced worm, life stolen by the hook. The worm had enjoyed its dark, sweet, rich life in the soil, comforted by the rhythms and songs of the earth. And now he was the Great Stealer. “Why do I draw it?”

“You have the potential for great good or evil. The universe notices.”

“Why the bloody hell are you bringing this up now?” Barrons always had a reason. He never talked unless he needed to in order to accomplish an aim.



“You’re about to meet someone. Greet it with warmth and respect. I won’t tell you again.”

Christian stopped in his tracks. “That thing from Samhain is here?”

“Another of the old earth gods. This one, however, will not run, they will decimate you if you fear them. The old ones can be cantankerous.”

“Your pronouns aren’t matching. What the bloody hell is it—one or multiple?” When Barrons said nothing, he snapped irritably, “Where the fuck do you even find old gods? It’s not as if they’re just hanging about on street corners.”

Barrons shot him a look of dark amusement. “You might be surprised. If you were one day summoned by those in need of your services yet greeted with fear and hostility, what would you do to those who’d called you?”

Christian bared his teeth in a twisted smile. If someone dared compel his presence then treated him with horror and rejection…well, in his recent state of mind he might do worse than the old god had done. He’d live up to his fucking legend, every frightening bit of it.

“Be glad the one that came that night wasn’t as bitter and broody as you. All things considered, it was surprisingly well mannered.”

Christian narrowed his eyes. “As you’ve just been. You never explain.” Were they becoming…friendly? Was Barrons capable of friendly?

“Power is gray. It goes where you will it, wrong or right, dark or light. Reviling yourself is the surest way to go dark.”