Free When Passion Lies: A Shadow Keepers Novel by J. K. Beck Page A

her. To save her even when she couldn’t be saved. He was the man who was supposed to love her even when she didn’t love herself.
    And yet he stood there and told her that she could destroy the world.
    “Do you know what this room is?” he asked.
    She did, of course. She’d helped supervise the team that had designed it. One of the sad facts of political life in the shadow world was the occasional need to keep a captive. And when captives had the ability to transform to mist, airtight rooms were often required. More than that, rooms sometimes needed extra features. Such as the capability to incinerate. To completely destroy an enemy so no trace was left. Not even dust.
    Giorgio had dragged them into that room and locked them in.
    Now Tiberius stood on the outside with the power to either activate the incinerator or open the door.
    “I know,” she said.
    “I love you,” he said, his voice breaking. “But there are no second chances,” he said. “Not for somethinglike this. You can’t go back. I can’t risk it. I took an oath to protect my people, Caris. You know that.”
    She clenched her hands, her eyes going to the pile of dust as she readied herself for the pain of the fire. The death she deserved. “I know.”
    He pressed his hand to the glass, and she saw her own torment reflected in his eyes. She wanted to hate him for what he was about to do, but she couldn’t. All she could be was numb.
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    She closed her eyes as he punched in the code. But there was no fire. No pain.
    And when she opened her eyes, he was gone.
    She stood cautiously. The door to the chamber was open.
    She understood then that his words hadn’t been a condemnation, but a warning.
Learn control
, he’d been saying.
Or he’d kill her himself
.

    “Caris? Miss Caris?”
    The words pulled her from the unwelcome memories, and Caris peered down at the gray-haired vampire with bulbous eyes and a grandmotherly smile. She was standing beside a door, gesturing at Caris.
    “Tiberius will see you now,” she said, as she pushed open the door.
    Right. Of course.
    Caris lifted her chin and reminded herself that she was in control now. She was strong. Powerful. And she was here because she wanted to be, not because she’d been summoned.
    She was a warrior.
    Hell, she was
Caris
.
    Right
.
    With a quick nod, Caris swept past the receptionist without another word, then stepped over the threshold into another world entirely. Unlike the antechamber’s antique warmth, this room was cold and crisp. Chrome and glass surfaces, gleaming electronics. And the scent of brutal sterility.
    The only hint of the Tiberius she’d known lay on the walls—rich, vibrant Impressionist paintings that gave much-needed color to the austere surroundings.
    He’d been facing the window when she entered, and he hadn’t yet turned around. Which, frankly, ticked her off.
    She cleared her throat, but the sound came out weak rather than annoyed.
    She saw the way his shoulders stiffened before he turned slowly to face her, and she forced herself to look at him. At the midnight-black hair that had once felt so soft beneath her fingers. At the patrician jaw she used to trace with her lips. And at those onyx eyes, his gaze so solid and stoic. Eyes that revealed nothing to anyone else, but had, once upon a time, told her everything she’d ever wanted to know.
    She met those eyes now, cold and inscrutable, and she realized she was standing with her jaw clenched as tightly as her fists. Deliberately, she tried to relax.
    “Thanks for finally opening up the inner sanctum,” she said, painting her words thick with sarcasm. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten that you’d invited me.”
    “Invited? Were you under the impression you could politely decline?”
    She tensed, then bit back her instinctive response, which was a rather colorful curse word and an assault against his parentage. Now really wasn’t the time to get into it with him.