The Underground Trilogy Box Set: The Underground Trilogy, #123

PARANORMAL ROMANCE

Wings of Shadow (The Underground Trilogy, Book 1)

Wings of Memory (The Underground Trilogy, Book 2)

Wings of Light (The Underground Trilogy, Book 3)

DYSTOPIA

Cerulean

NEW ADULT ROMANCE

Wander and Roam (Wander Series Book 1)

Rebel and Soul (Wander Series Book 2)

This book is dedicated to all who keep alive the spirit of the Fae.

It is never too late to wish for magic.

With thanks to the following sources:

Darwin, Charles (1859), On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life.

"Killian, please. Do not do this. The twins must not be separated, especially at such a young age," Selena pleaded.

Silence, Mother! The treaty is signed. My first-born is destined to rule in my place. He requires proper training.

The noise of the crowd rose, and Selena looked across the meadow to see the villagers gathering around a table. Her grandsons were seated in front of a tiered cake, eyeing the sugared violets that dotted the rosy frosting. Their tiny heads leaned forward, brown curls and blond locks blending. As the crowd began to count, both brothers took a deep breath.

Three! the villagers yelled, and the boys blew, cheeks puffing with their exertions. The three tiny flames glowing atop hand-dipped candles flickered out. The boys clapped in delight and reached toward the cake.

Selena chuckled to see the twins poke their tiny fingers into the uncut cake to pull away the sugared flowers. Seemingly content with nibbling the sweet violets, the boys rushed away to play. Their hand-carved wooden plates lay abandoned.

Her smile disappeared as her son stepped forward from the edge of the meadow.

Killian’s ebony cape flapped in the wind. It is time.

His wife, Alannah, smoothed her long gown and nodded her assent. I expect you to honor the treaty terms. She gazed at the two boys frolicking in the meadow.

He laughed. So little trust!

Selena stood to the side, stoically listening to their conversation. She pursed her lips together, holding in her protests. They had all been spoken before, countless times, and to no avail.

The two boys danced in the meadow, spinning until they fell down giggling. Imprinting this last memory of the twins in her mind, Selena ignored the tear sliding down her cheek.

Killian marched over and took her dear Kiernan firmly by the hand. Her feisty grandson resisted, but his father yanked his arm until they walked side-by-side. Selena watched as they turned away from the village and headed toward a path leading into the city. The abandoned twin threw himself down to the grass, crying and calling for his brother.

Before father and son passed the village boundary, Selena rushed over to them, stopping her golden-haired grandson. He leapt into her arms for an enormous hug, his fingers, still sticky with frosting, clutching her neck.

Kiernan, remember the Light, she whispered. Remember the Light.

Meghan bounced down the scratched wooden steps of the hostel. Her thoughts were on all the possibilities that tonight held. When she saw Kiernan waiting at the bottom, she forced herself to slow her pace. She didn’t want to seem too eager, even if she felt that inner anticipation brimming. Though he appeared calm, his eyes twinkled with excitement.

I planned something special for tonight, he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the hostel.

Focusing on the tingle radiating between their two hands, she barely noticed as he wove her through the crowded London sidewalks. She tried to quell the excitement that arose every time she was near him. They soon reached the river. The journey had taken place in complete silence, but he seemed just as content as she was. Did he notice the tingling, too? Kiernan guided her further down the street as a gentle drizzle began to fall. They reached the stairs leading down into The Underground, hurrying to avoid the rain.

The Underground? Are we riding the subway somewhere? Meghan asked.

In London, we call it ‘The Tube,’ he said.

The crowd grew thicker as they descended into the tunnel. She clutched Kiernan’s hand when she was jostled by people making their way toward the trains. She would have felt lost on her own. She could barely pay attention to what they passed due to the speed of the crowd. Closing her eyes, she found herself propelled forward. Meghan was unsure if her momentum was due to Kiernan’s strong pull as he continued to hold her hand or the push of the people pulsing around her. Finally, they arrived at the station.

Is it going to be this crowded on the train? she sighed, tucking back wisps of her hair.

Kiernan smiled and squeezed her hand. It will seem like we have these tracks all to ourselves.

As the train roared into the station, the crowd pressed forward, eager to rush aboard. He held her back until the doors closed and the train shot off into the unlit tunnel.

Are we waiting for another train? Meghan asked.

Not responding, Kiernan walked over the visual warning painted on the concrete to Mind the Gap and jumped down into the recess where the tracks ran. He turned and reached for her. If Meghan’s heart had been thumping before, it had begun doing somersaults inside her chest, possibly even Olympic-qualifying somersaults.

Coming? The corners of his mouth creased upward as his eyes bore into her.

Meghan couldn’t deny Kiernan when he looked at her like that. His smile did something to her insides, as if she had taken an instant calming serum. Luckily, the rational side of her kicked into gear. How could she follow him, no matter how much she wanted to do so? Jumping into the area where the train passed was dangerous. Rules were invented for reasons, after all, and she didn’t want to be electrocuted or run over by the next train. Who knew what else could happen? Just thinking about all of the grim possibilities made her breathing quicken. No, jumping into that gap would be just plain foolish.

As she gathered the courage to step back and say goodnight to Kiernan, he smiled at her again. She gazed into his sky-blue eyes and jumped down into the recess as well. His warm hands grabbed her around the waist and eased her safely next to him.

Be careful of the rails, he warned.

After she crept over the metal tracks, Kiernan boosted her up to the opposite side of the recess. The empty station looked abandoned from across that long, wide gap. As Meghan stared at the desolate metal benches that had become unreachable, she wondered how she had strayed so far away. Why had her caution and hesitation disappeared? She had easily stood up to the temptations presented in high school—never taking a drink or trying a cigarette. But the smile of a pretty boy was enough to make her follow? Closing her eyes, Meghan squeezed her fists, nails digging into her skin.

Appearing oblivious to her distress, Kiernan pulled himself up after her, and gracefully balanced on the narrow ledge of concrete. He led her along the edge, toward the same tunnel the Tube had just passed through.

Meghan pulled back. "Kiernan, stop! This isn’t my thing. When you asked me out, I thought we might go out to eat or hit a club. Hopping subway tracks and heading into dark tunnels is not my idea of a fun evening." She was determined to set some firm boundaries with the handsome boy.

Kiernan continued to walk, tugging gently on her arm. I’m taking you sightseeing to a part of London few ever have the chance to see. There’s even a hidden club.

When she hesitated, Kiernan leaned close and murmured, Trust me. His blue eyes held her gaze for a long moment. And then, he held out his hand.

She was confused. She had been determined to leave, but now could think only of spending the evening with him. Setting aside her misgivings, Meghan took his hand and followed him into the tunnel. The light dimmed as they traveled further from the station. She squeezed Kiernan’s hand, trying to balance on the narrow ledge that lined the recess of the tunnel. The curve of the wall further reduced the space to walk, and she huddled against the graffiti-covered concrete, taking careful steps. As she stepped onto something squishy, her foot slipped off the ledge.

Careful now! Watch your step, Kiernan teased, gripping her hand.

She glared at him. Look, I’m not enjoying myself. The nightclub better be amazing because right now, this is the worst date ever.

Where’s your sense of adventure? Kiernan winked.

Meghan wiped a slick layer of sweat off her forehead. Adventure? Interacting with whatever lives down in that black pit is your idea of an adventure?

Ah… you don’t care for the resident rats.

As she quieted her inner squeal, Kiernan pulled her to the left. Meghan stumbled into a smaller tunnel offshoot. Regaining her balance, she looked around. This narrow corridor didn’t have tracks for the Tube or any gaping recess.

Kiernan leaned close and pretended to nibble on her shoulder. So, you don’t like the little rats. What about the big, bad rat leader?

Laughing, she pushed him away. Staying mad at Kiernan was so hard. His charm was irresistible at times.

So, I still have the power to make you smile, even on the worst date ever?

Meghan shrugged. It’s much easier to relax when I’m not worrying about being flattened by a train. Anyway, what is this? A maintenance tunnel? She noticed a light glowing in the distance.

He grinned and shook his head. Impatient, are we?

She sighed. I am walking around dark tunnels underneath London. This was not covered in my ‘travel-abroad rules,’ but I know my mother would flip if she found out.

What is that ‘human’ saying? Ah, yes, ‘rules are made to be broken.’ He walked further down the tunnel, heading toward the light.

But I like to follow rules. Meghan puzzled over the odd phrasing that he had used. Kiernan, did you mean ‘American’ saying?

He froze. His jaw clenched, and he stumbled over his response. Um… yes. Sorry. I meant American.

She stared at him. Kiernan was one of those people who always knew the right thing to say. That was the first time she had heard him at a loss for words.

Soon, they arrived at an antique gas lamp. Underneath the flickering light, a yellowing poster depicted an old-fashioned portrait. In the bottom corner was a quote written in the pristine handwriting of a different era:

It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.

Is that a picture of Charles Darwin? she asked, looking closer at the poster.

He nodded. My father is a huge Darwin fan.

Your father? Why would he hang a poster all the way down here?

My, you are filled with questions tonight.

He hadn’t really answered, though. She wondered why he was being evasive.

A heavy wooden door with a large metal knocker stood at the end of the corridor, illuminated by the yellow glow of the gas lamp. Kiernan banged the knocker three times, then tapped it two additional times.

Is that the secret knock to get into this mysterious club? Meghan joked.

Kiernan winked, and then the door opened. A strange man stood in front of them. Looking as though he stepped out of a story from one hundred years ago, he was dressed in gray trousers, a lavender button-down shirt, and a purple silk vest. On his head sat a gray top hat. Even odder, protruding from his back were thick silver wires that swirled into spiraling wings. The man raised a monocle to his eye and peered through it. Meghan stared. She was crossing that obscure boundary into rudeness, but she wasn’t able to stop herself. The man was one of the oddest people she’d ever seen.

Still looking through his little glass, the man cleared his throat. Yes, yes. Master Kiernan, welcome back. You are bringing one guest tonight, my young lord?

Kiernan grimaced. Yes, Barnaby. The lovely Meghan will be my guest tonight.

Very good, sir. Enjoy the evening. The man turned from them and resumed his post at the door.

Kiernan, who was that man? He was rather odd. And why was he calling you ‘lord’ and ‘master’?

Barnaby is our door man. He’s eccentric, but he’s also loyal and dedicated, which is more than you can say about many employees, right? Kiernan led her through a narrow stone hallway.

It wasn’t lost on Meghan that he had evaded another question. As she attempted to rephrase it, Kiernan brought her to a narrow stone staircase that wound up a stone turret reminiscent of a castle. The top stair opened onto a small, private balcony overlooking a massive stone chamber.

She gasped. Below, hundreds of people filled the chamber, dancing to live band music.

Welcome to the Underground, Kiernan whispered.

This is amazing! Who would have imagined that there would be a club all the way down here? How do people even know about it?

Most people have forgotten these old Tube tunnels and chambers even exist. Entry is by invitation only. We try to keep it rather private. He took her hand. Do you want to go down to the floor? We could dance.

They made their way down the narrow stone steps, and Kiernan led her through a hallway that opened up to the dance chamber. As they entered, Meghan was struck by the immensity of the room. Aside from the unique location, the manner of dress of the dancers was also quite different. In fact, she and Kiernan, in their jeans and t-shirts, stood out among the crowd.

Some people dressed in old-fashioned clothing in a style similar to Barnaby’s. Who would have imagined he was being trendy? Another group dressed entirely in black, with prominent piercings and tattoos. Everyone wore wings, but not the typical angel or butterfly wings that little kids wore on Halloween. No, the wings were creative, made of wire, metal, fabric, leather, and other materials.

Meghan looked around, eyes wide. She felt as though she had just fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole. The anxiety she had experienced in the tunnel was gone, replaced with intrigue and wonder.

Kiernan, we’re out of place here. We forgot to wear our wings, she joked.

He stiffened and didn’t respond. She glanced at him. His normal carefree manner had disappeared.

Leading her through the crowd, Kiernan said, Let’s dance.

The music was fast and unfamiliar. Meghan had never been very graceful or even very coordinated, but the music was haunting and intoxicating, and she danced without remembering to feel self-conscious. She tried to pay attention to the lyrics, but soon realized they were in a different language.

Glancing at Kiernan, she found he was watching her. Meghan matched his gaze for a moment, than shyly looked away. Kiernan danced around her, his blond hair flying in all directions, as he moved his head to the beat of the music. His tattoos—spiral abstracts swirling their way around his upper arms—glistened, despite the dimness of the light. If only she were brave enough to reach out and touch him.

People surrounded her, everyone dancing and swaying to the unusual music. Wings of every shape and size bobbed, and Meghan couldn’t stop staring at them. A tall, dark-haired girl wearing a vintage velvet ball gown danced nearby. She had tiny velvet wings made from the same plum-colored material as her gown.

The girl smiled, a silver lip ring rising with the curve of her mouth. Found yourself a new friend, Kiernan?

This is Meghan, he called, still moving to the beat.

They call me Raine. Have a bloody fun night! the plum-dressed girl yelled back before being swallowed up by the other dancers.

A short man dressed in shredded black clothing stomped to the beat. Meghan suspected the shredding was a deliberate effect, as it formed too neat a pattern to have been accidental. On the man’s back was the most amazing pair of wings she had seen all night, made of gears and the faces of watches. As the gears and cogs turned, the clock faces ticked, each set to a different time. How could he possibly keep track of what time it really was?

Kiernan smiled. Having fun?

I wasn’t sure if this was my scene at first. It seemed a little too weird. But I’m having so much fun! She imagined telling her girlfriends back home in Portland about her adventure of sneaking through the subway to enter an exclusive club with a very good-looking boy. Maybe Kiernan was correct; it was all right to break the rules, at least once in a while.

Kiernan stiffened as he looked toward the balcony. A man sat alone, watching the dancers. Kiernan gave Meghan a little smile. Keep dancing. I need to do something for a minute, but I’ll be right back.

She followed his gaze. Who is that man?

He sighed. That’s my father. I need to greet him.

Your father still goes to clubs? Wait. Does your father own this club? Is that why Barnaby treated you like you were somebody special?

Something like that, Kiernan replied, as he turned to leave.

Why was getting a clear answer from him so difficult? She watched him weave his way through the crowd. Meghan was unsure what to do while she waited. Standing amidst the undulating sea of dancers, she considered her options. Suddenly, a tall, very bare-chested boy began dancing in front of her. He wore tight-fitting leather breeches and an old-style, leather pilot’s hat fitted with an antiquated pair of goggles. His feet were bare. Not content to sway to the music, he held out his long arms and spun.

Meghan stared in wonder at the boy. For such a tall guy, he was amazingly graceful. The feather-like turquoise wings that sprouted from his back waved and moved in rhythm to his dancing. The roots plunged into the flesh of his back, muscles flexing under his skin as he moved. Meghan tried to get a better look, to see how they were attached, but every time she leaned closer, he twirled away.

I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. The winged boy bowed.

This is my first time coming to the club. I’m Meghan. She offered him her hand.

The boy raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Charmed to meet you, Meghan. I am Wish.

Meghan looked up at him, unsure if he was joking. Wish? What kind of name is that?

He grinned. A name that conveys the longing, desire, and hope found within all of our souls. A name that brings a smile to all, whether one is using a four-leaf clover, falling star, or birthday candle. The name of one who truly believes in magic and the power of wishes.

Before Meghan could decide what she thought about the oversized, poetic believer, he grabbed her hands, twirling and spinning her. Her feet struggled to keep up with the rest of her body, but she found herself smiling in delight. As the song ended, Wish bowed and stepped aside. Laughing, she looked up to find Kiernan grinning at her.

Are you having fun?

More fun than I would have guessed.

My father would like to meet you. He has invited us to dine with him on the balcony.

Meghan studied the dance floor. She was just starting to know Kiernan. Surely they were not at the meeting each other’s parents stage already.

He met her eyes. Please. My father is a very insistent man. He is used to getting what he wants.

Well, I am a little hungry. Next time, you need to mention any possible relative meeting before we leave the hostel. Agreed?

Kiernan nodded, and they wove their way toward the balcony. Many of the dancers stopped to greet him, and she wondered if his popularity was due to being the club-owner’s son.

As they walked up the final few stone steps, Kiernan reached for her hand. He stroked it, his thumb leaving warm trails up and down her palm. Was her nervousness that apparent?

Striding onto the balcony, Kiernan approached a small table where a man sat in a high-backed, wrought-iron chair. She wouldn’t have picked them out as father and son. For each of Kiernan’s fair traits, the man sported a darker version: long black hair, braided intricately, against Kiernan’s shoulder-length blond locks, and eyes the same shade of black, contrasting with Kiernan’s light blue.

Kiernan bowed deferentially to the man. Father, I would like to have the pleasure of introducing you to my companion for tonight, Meghan Kelley.

The man rose and held out both hands. Enchanté, my dear. You may call me Lord Killian. He took the hand Meghan offered, brushing it with his lips.

She quelled her inner eww. While his father shared Kiernan’s good looks, something about Lord Killian unsettled her. She tried to focus. Lord? Is that a real title or just how the club-goers refer to you?

Kiernan cringed, and she realized she must have said something offensive. Meghan knew she hadn’t been prepared for the meeting-the-parents ritual.

Lord Killian gestured toward the silver-domed trays on the table. There will be time later for all of your questions. But for now, dinner awaits.

As they sat, a man stepped out of the shadows. Meghan stifled a gasp. His black waistcoat, starched collar, and cravat looked like a turn-of-the-century butler uniform. The man bowed, revealing small paper wings covered with tiny words. Peering closer, Meghan recognized a few words from her French class: "le poisson, le champignon, and les asperges." Were his wings made of restaurant menus? He lifted the domes of the silver platters, served the food without speaking, then retreated into the shadows. The meal was certainly more formal than dinner at her home.

Silence filled the balcony. Kiernan studied his plate. His father stared at her, his hands folded. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to make her uncomfortable or waiting for her to start the conversation.

She took a deep breath. So, Mr. Killian, Kiernan mentioned that you enjoy the writings of Charles Darwin.

Kiernan cringed again at her Mister.

Lord Killian wiped his mouth with a napkin and nodded. Ah, yes, I do appreciate the masterful words of Mr. Darwin. Charles was wise beyond his years and far ahead of his era when he published his findings. Tell me, Meghan, have you studied Mr. Darwin’s work?

"I’ve always liked science. During my senior year, I took an Advance Placement biology class, and we read portions of On the Origin of Species."

And what did you think of your readings?

Well, it was quite interesting. I had never really thought about how we got to this stage of the evolutionary process.

And Mr. Darwin’s thoughts about ‘survival of the fittest’? Are you familiar with those?

Meghan was surprised at the formality. She had gone out with Kiernan expecting to have a fun and carefree night in London, but she ended up being interrogated about evolutionary and Darwinist principles. Kiernan was silent and only picked at his food. She hoped, after dinner, they would be able to return to the dance floor.

Forming her thoughts carefully, she replied, Darwin believed that some species developed a competitive advantage over other species, and that this advantage allowed them to thrive. Over time, the individuals with the advantage would pass on that trait to younger generations, spreading the trait, while individuals without the competitive advantage would slowly diminish. The conversation felt as nerve-wracking as her senior exams.

He looked pleased. My, Meghan, you are an intelligent young woman. I must say that I am impressed.

She perked up. Maybe the dinner hadn’t been a complete disaster.

Lord Killian looked down at her still-full plate and waved his hand toward it. My apologies, Meghan. I have monopolized our dinner with conversation, allowing your food to grow cold. Go ahead and eat, my dear.

She nibbled bites of the different foods arranged on her plate. Many of the foods were unusual, and she couldn’t place their origins. Not the typical English-style meat-and-potatoes pub fare, all of the foods were plant or grain based. The rich and complex flavors surprised her. She ate quickly and heartily, stopping at intervals to display some semblance of table manners. When dinner was done, the menu-winged man stepped from the shadows again and hastily removed the dishes. He paused at Kiernan’s still full plate, looking at Lord Killian for permission to take it. With Lord Killian’s nod, he grabbed the last plate, and scurried back to the shadows.

Lord Killian sat back in his chair. I have so enjoyed getting to know you, my dear. I have some business to conduct with my son, but I would like to extend an invitation for you to stay here tonight.

Meghan startled. There are sleeping chambers here, in the nightclub?

He smiled. We try to make sure the needs of our guests are met. The Underground has all the comforts of a downtown block in London.

Um, I have a room at the hostel. They’ll wonder why I didn’t return. I really should be getting back, she muttered.

Lord Killian shook his head. Unfortunately, I must insist. As I mentioned, I have business with Kiernan that cannot wait. And it is simply not safe for you to wander through the dark Tube tunnels alone. I will have you escorted to one of our chambers, where you will be most comfortable. With a snap of his fingers, two young men approached. Like nearly everyone else, they had unique pairs of wings on their backs. Shade, Chaos, please lead Meghan to the guest chambers.

What kinds of names were Shade and Chaos? She looked incredulously at Kiernan. Was he really going to leave her in the middle of their date?

Kiernan? Will you please take me home?

Staring stoically at the table, he said nothing. Meghan sighed in frustration. She wouldn’t be going out with him again. She remembered the worst date ever conversation from their walk through the Tube tunnels, grimacing at the truth of her words.

You brought me down here when I didn’t even want to come, and now you’re abandoning me? Before she could say more, she was escorted from the balcony by the two men.

Meghan grew angrier as they made their way down the staircase and through mazes of stone hallways. Trying to calm her raging thoughts, she focused on the two sets of wings. Shade’s wings suited his name. They were black as night and made from smooth panels of leather. Metal rivets held leather ties that kept the wings on his body. Chaos had much larger wings that appeared to be metal imprinted with elaborate designs and interesting shapes. The tips of the wings looked razor sharp, almost weapon-like. While the oddities had been enchanting initially, she was more than ready to leave.

Would either of you take me back to the Tube station? I have some money back at the hostel. I’d pay you.

Neither of them replied. Chaos opened a wooden door set in one of the stone walls. Inside, she could see a spacious bedchamber.

If you guys are too busy, I think I remember the way myself. I’m just going to find the doorman—

Chaos and Shade stepped in front of her, blocking her exit. Bile rose in her throat, and she nearly vomited. She really had thought that she would be free to leave. Lord Killian was pushy, and Kiernan was a jerk, but she hadn’t thought they were dangerous.

She considered her options. The doorway to the bedroom was behind her. Chaos’s sharp wing tips almost touched the floor, but there was a gap underneath Shade’s left wing. She darted toward the space.

Shade shoved her into the chamber. The door slammed shut, and Meghan could hear the grating of a deadbolt sliding against wood. She tried to pull the door open, but it would not budge. The anxiety she had felt walking through the dark Tube tunnels returned, her heart pounding, thoughts racing, and body tingling with uneasiness.

Why had Kiernan brought her to the Underground? What were they going to do? All kinds of nightmarish scenarios raced through her mind. Trying to calm herself, she surveyed the room. A large four-poster bed occupied the middle of the room, and a comfortable-looking armchair stood in front of a fireplace. Someone had already started a fire and left a supply of logs to keep it burning.

An hour later, Meghan sat on the armchair, feeling defeated. She had spent the initial thirty minutes of her captivity unsuccessfully attempting to force the lock on the door. For the next twenty minutes, she had yelled for help. Her screams had reverberated off the stone walls of the chamber, but not a soul had come to help her.

Tears filled her eyes as she realized the massive mistakes she had made during her first week in London. She was locked beneath the city, in a place nobody knew existed, and without any idea of her captors’ plans for her.

Meghan blocked out those thoughts. She needed to stay calm. Imagining all the what-could-happens would only distress her. She had fallen for Kiernan’s charm, and he had lured her to the Underground. Feelings of bitter betrayal flooded through her, and tears fell.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear someone enter until the lock slid back into place. Startled, she turned to find Kiernan behind her.

Why did you lure me down here? Why am I locked up? Why me?

He gazed at her sadly and reached for her hands, but Meghan jumped back, putting as much space between them as possible.

Why? she repeated.

He approached. Meghan, I wish I could explain. I want you to understand. But, I just can’t right now.

Looking at his hands, she saw a small, silver knife. Keep away from me! Meghan screamed. She scanned the room, searching for something to use for protection, but saw nothing. Terror bubbled up inside her.

Kiernan stepped closer, raising the knife. He looked at her with those eyes the perfect shade of blue.

And she found herself not resisting. She felt Kiernan take her hands and draw her toward the armchair. He sat down, lowered her onto his lap, and placed the knife against her neck. Meghan had always thought she would be the kind of girl who fought vehemently if attacked. She did not realize that terror could immobilize her.

Kiernan whispered, I am so very sorry.

She felt the sharp edge of the knife cut into her neck and was aware of blood seeping out the edges of the small cut. And then, Kiernan’s mouth descended upon her neck.

The pain was dull as she struggled to understand what was happening. She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, and her body felt frozen in place. After several terrifying seconds, so long they felt like hours, her ability to move finally returned. Meghan squirmed and twisted, trying to free herself, but to no avail. Kiernan’s strong arms gripped her, imprisoning her on his lap, as his mouth moved against her neck.

For Meghan, time stopped until he lifted his head. Fear melted into relief. He wasn’t going to kill her, at least not at that moment. She scrambled out of his lap, backing toward the fire. A drop of blood clung to his upper lip.

Why? she whispered.

Kiernan froze at the groan of the sliding deadlock. He answered with only a slight shake of the head.

Why, indeed? Lord Killian marched into the room. I am very curious as to why you have stopped drinking, my son. My directions were clear: to drain her.

A shiver spread through her body at his icy tone.

Kiernan’s response was equally cold. One doesn’t guzzle a fine vintage of wine; one savors it. By drinking a cup per day, the bottle still empties, but the enjoyment of the drink lasts.

Tears spilled down her cheeks. Was he actually comparing her to a wine, a commodity to be used and later disposed of? Father and son glared at each other, neither breaking the long silence. Meghan blinked back more tears. She crept backward until she felt the cold stone of the wall upon her back.

Just see that the bottle is emptied, son. The problem with fine wine is that some become so attached to a particular vintage, they cannot bear to consume it.

Lord Killian turned toward Meghan. Always charming to see you, my dear. He strode from the room. She barely held in the shudder until he disappeared, slamming the door behind him.

Kiernan approached. Her body trembled as he drew close. She pushed herself further back, but the stone wall wouldn’t give. Sadness and regret poured from his eyes, his stare conveying a thousand apologies. He pulled an ornate blue bottle from his pocket and placed a fragrant-smelling ointment on his thumb. As he tried to touch her neck, she flinched. A single tear welled in his eye, threatening to fall.

This will help with the healing of your wound. He glanced at the door, then dabbed at her neck with the salve. Goosebumps formed along the path where his thumb grazed.

He began to speak, but looked toward the door again. He mouthed, I’m sorry.

He trudged toward the door. His head and shoulders remained slumped as he exited the room. Why did he look even more defeated than she felt? She was still pondering that question when the lock slid back into place.

Her composure crumbling, she dissolved into tears, collapsing on the armchair and curling into a ball. The warm fire did nothing to quell the cold dread that filled her. The mistakes she had made circled in her mind: going out with a stranger, not letting anyone know where she would be, and falling for somebody who hurt her. Eventually, exhaustion overtook her, and she slept.

Her very first evening in London, she sat in the community room of her hostel, waiting and wondering if he would really come. She felt guilty as she imagined what her mother would say about her going out with a Boy. She had made many promises and had vowed to stay safe on her first trip away from home.

And then he walked in the door. With one smile, he wiped all doubts away. Kiernan looked as good as she remembered. His tight black T-shirt and jeans contrasted with his blond hair. Odd tattoos in the forms of knots and swirls glistened on his upper arms. An intricate silver chain holding an unusual cross dangled from his neck. As Kiernan approached, he presented her with an exaggerated bow.

Offering her the crook of his arm, he asked, Shall we?

Meghan tossed away her uncertainties and grasped his arm. Where to, my fine lord? she quipped, joining in his role-play.

Kiernan startled, paused, and then seemed to recover, leading her out of the hostel. She wondered what had caused his unusual reaction.

So, this is your very first trip to London?

This is my first trip outside of the United States. And my first solo trip anywhere.

Brave and adventurous—what a becoming combination. He watched her, staring just long enough to make her avert her eyes. The city is ours, so let me know what is high on your list.

It might be fun to let you choose one of your favorite spots.

Excellent idea! Taking her hand, he led her to the river where towering buildings lined both banks. He flung his arm in the direction of the water, announcing, The majestic Thames, waterway of kings and queens.

She was standing next to one of the world’s most famous rivers, and she became aware of the sloshing water, the briny smell, and the ship horns sounding in the distance. Kiernan led her onto a bridge where she observed several other bridges crossing the Thames. Is that Tower Bridge? It’s amazing from here.

The bridge in the distance was aglow, and the city skyline’s lights brightened the night. She had arrived. She was finally in London.

Kiernan took her hands, singing, London Bridge is falling down…

This is London Bridge? Two amazing sites crossed off of my list. She kept forgetting to pay attention to the sites, though, with those blue eyes gazing at her.

Still swaying their hands back and forth, Kiernan leaned closer. I see an amazing sight as well.

He released her hands, lifting his hand to her cheek. Brushing it softly, he murmured, A very pretty sight.

The knife appeared in his hand, and Meghan screamed…

Meghan awoke to the sound of her scream still echoing in the stone room. The cold reality of her current danger had replaced fond memories of their London Bridge date. As her heart quieted, she looked around the chamber.

The fire had died, leaving only glowing embers. In the windowless room, she was unable to guess the time. She lay on a large, comfortable bed. Someone had tucked in the covers around her, for she had no memory of doing so herself. Who would have done that for her?

Kiernan? She squashed the tiny ray of hope that emerged. He was the reason for her predicament. She rose from the bed. A tray of food sat on the small table next to the armchair. Touching the pot of tea, she found it still warm. Meghan wondered who had bothered. She ran to the door, but it remained locked.

She paced back and forth, reviewing her options. Growing frustrated, she realized how many obstacles she faced: stone walls, no windows, and a solid wood door locked in position with a strong deadbolt.

Her stomach grumbled. She didn’t want to take advantage of her gift, especially since the bestower remained unknown, but she couldn’t resist the scents of berries, vanilla, and peppermint. The hot tea, blueberry scones, and fresh fruit provided a temporary distraction. As she bit into a second warm scone, she hoped poison wasn’t on the menu. The hunger pangs disappeared, leaving her grateful she had something to eat.

Sinking into the armchair, Meghan stared blankly at the fireplace, trying to devise a plan. Stone walls, no windows, solid door, deadbolt, repeated in her mind, but she felt the itch of an idea trying to break free.

A cold breeze blew across the room, and she shuddered as she sipped her tea. The itch became stronger. She urged herself to think. Stone walls, no windows, solid door, deadbolt… fireplace! Another draft engulfed her, as she rushed to the hearth. The last of the embers were fading.

Crouching, Meghan studied the fireplace. Fortunately, the castle-style opening was of an ample size, as opposed to one of those tiny Americanized fireplaces, such as in her home in Oregon. A large man could easily fit in there. She peered into the lengthy chimney, which disappeared into blackness as high as she could see. Would she be brave enough to make the climb, knowing she would be in pitch dark? Her only other choice seemed to be to sit and wait for Kiernan and his father to return. That definitely wasn’t an option.

She poured the remnants of the tea over the dying embers and watched them hiss and steam in protest. There was just enough room for her to stand without burning her feet. She reached one finger up into the opening, barely touching the stone. Warm, but not too hot. She placed her full hand against the stone, which reminded her of a sidewalk on a warm, sunny day.

The first part would be the hardest. She needed to pull herself up, but she lacked upper arm strength. If only she had visited the gym more often. The embers were still hot enough to burn her.

Reaching inside, she found a protruding stone to use for a handhold. She pulled herself up until her feet cleared the embers. One foot pressed against the left side of the chimney, the other pushed into the stones on the right. She felt around until she found another handhold. Slowly, she made her way up the hollow rectangle of stone. The chimney narrowed as she progressed, so that wedging herself securely became easier.

An hour later, she groaned. Without a doubt, she was higher, but her arms ached, her legs throbbed, and her body begged for rest. Just when she was ready to give up, her hand touched empty space. The chimney no longer had four solid walls. A perfectly square opening on one wall formed the entrance of a small tunnel. With her legs about to collapse, she pulled herself into the opening that was so narrow she couldn’t even sit. She wondered about the purpose of the tunnel. It was lined with a thick layer of soot. She finally figured it must be a sort of horizontal flue, leading to another fireplace.

She laid on the warm stone, letting her legs and arms relax. The fiery pain of intense exercise slowly dissipated. Lying flat felt so good she didn’t even mind the soot. Meghan blinked to keep her eyes open, but exhaustion from the intense climbing won, and her lids slid shut.

Aching legs begged her to stop. Throbbing shoulders screamed in resistance. Running down the lengthy corridor, Meghan knew she needed to make the flight. Sweat trickled down her body as she urged her sore legs to run faster. Breathing heavily, she arrived just as the door was closing.

Please, wait! she pleaded, dropping her heavy carry-on.

The gate agent, hair and make-up perfect, scrutinized Meghan’s attempts to smooth her hair and wipe away trickles of sweat. Well, hurry aboard. We don’t want to keep the other passengers waiting.

Holding out her boarding pass, Meghan muttered her thanks before stepping onto the airplane. She tugged her over-sized backpack to her seat and ignored the impatient glares of the other passengers.

Meghan struggled to lift the heavy carry-on into the overhead bin. She rarely wished for her five-foot-three frame to be taller, but a few more inches would have been helpful. A second set of hands pushed her bag into the bin. Looking up, Meghan stared into the face of a beautiful boy.

I was wondering who was holding up the plane, he teased, his blue eyes twinkling.

Meghan’s cheeks grew warm. As she sat in the seat next to him, her leg brushed against his jeans.

You were lucky enough to get an aisle seat. How did I get placed in the middle? he complained, but in a joking way. She noticed he spoke with a British accent.

Are you returning home? she asked.

He nodded. I live in London. My name’s Kiernan. And you are?

Meghan… Meghan Kelly. She really liked his accent.

Running a hand through his long hair, he smiled. A toast to aeroplane rides and intercontinental adventures. He held out two beverages.

Funny, but she hadn’t noticed the sodas when they first sat. She took one, and they clinked the plastic cups. The plane headed down the runway, and a few seconds later, they were airborne.

She looked toward Kiernan to celebrate their departure. He leaned close to her. The knife appeared in his hand, and Meghan screamed…

Meghan jolted awake, banging her head against the stone ceiling inches above her. She grimaced in pain, sucking in the cry she wanted nobody to hear. Her head throbbing, she lay down again. Why did these memories keep tormenting her? They were reminders that the charismatic and likeable person whose company she had enjoyed the past week wasn’t who he seemed to be.

Betrayal so bitter she could almost taste it overwhelmed her. She needed to keep moving. She had the choice of continuing upward or exploring the new horizontal opening. She was concerned about the distance of the upward climb, knowing how far they were underground. The side tunnel seemed more promising, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her muscles giving out.

Crawling was painstakingly slow, but Meghan soon reached the end of the cramped stone passage. A flue led downward, probably into another fireplace. She would still be in the Underground, but hopefully in an unlocked room from which she could flee. She knew the risks, but also the dangers of climbing upward. She could fall, someone might start a fire, or her muscles could fail.

She did not hear anything below, so she began her descent. Finding a secure foothold, she let her body drop a few inches. She would have never imagined descending would be as challenging as the upward climb. Gradually, she lowered herself down the chimney. As she neared the bottom, she became hopeful, and after a few more agonizing minutes, she dropped the rest of the way to the floor.

Collapsing in the ashes, she paused for a moment to allow her breathing to slow and her arms and legs to relax. She cautiously stepped out of the fireplace and froze. It couldn’t be. She hadn’t.

Ah, so nice of you to join us for our late lunch, Lord Killian said. I would have been more than happy to have you escorted through our hallways. The chimney is a filthy way to travel.

Kiernan sat at the table beside his father. He stared at Meghan with an expression of fear. Why was he afraid? Her body trembled. The physical exertion, the hope of escape, and the disappointment of defeat were all too much. What would happen to her now?

Lord Killian stood and pulled out an unoccupied chair next to him. Please join us. You must be famished after your exertions.

Meghan felt her legs moving her to the table. She sat. Lord Killian filled her plate with a variety of delicacies. Kiernan stared down at his plate, as silent as she. The warm, moist towel placed in her hands brought her back to her senses.

You must want to clean the grime off before eating, Lord Killian suggested.

For the first time, Meghan noticed how dirty she was. Her hands and clothing were black with soot. The cloth blackened as she rubbed her hands and face.

"I had wanted to continue our stimulating