The air around Mychael flared with power. It was magic, definitely lethal, and its target was that purple demon. Then in a blink of an eye, the aura was gone, clamped down tight by the sheer force of Mychael’s will, only to be replaced by something more primitive, more male.

“Are you all right?” he demanded.

“Shaken up, but he didn’t lay a claw on me.”

The power still flowing from him swept over my skin, and I forced back a shiver of pure sensation.

Mychael realized what he was doing and resisted touching me, even though not touching me seemed to take as much effort as not going after that demon. “Raine, I want you to come back to the citadel with me. You’re not safe on Phaelan’s ship.”

I’d stayed in the citadel since arriving on Mid a few weeks ago, but the past few days I’d been on the Fortune. The accommodations Mychael had provided for me had been luxurious, but with guards posted outside my door, a gilded cage was still a cage. My family doesn’t do cages very well.

“Mychael, I’m not safe anywhere, and you know it. Vegard never leaves my side, but if it makes you feel better, post a couple more Guardians, though with literally all hell about to break loose, I doubt if you can spare them. I may not be any safer on the Fortune, but I’m happier. If I can’t be safe, I’ll take happy.”

Mychael sat back and raked his hand through his hair. I knew I’d been one exasperation right after another since the day we’d met.

“I won’t allow myself to be locked up,” I told him.

“I would never lock you up. You know that.”

“If I went back, you wouldn’t let me leave, so what’s the difference?”

“You’d be alive.”

“Possibly.”

“No, definitely.” Mychael said it as if he dared Death to defy him.