Carina ripped through the shields, her Ishaan needed the Heart. She’d seen Sorakov spear him, seen him trying to fake being well the entire trip down, had seen the back of his shirt slowly soak with blood as they traveled. She ripped the doorway open and dashed through, cursing her unwieldy form. The house was draped in white, mourning for her, she realized. She pushed her hands against the wall and cried out for the Body, for the Heart, for her child and for her mate.

They ...