Chapter One

Lord Lyon Satyr prowled the twilight streets of Paris, hunting. He breathed deep, searching the air and finding it rife with the scents of chimney smoke, dank river, and likely feminine prey. The blood of his ancestors pumped in him tonight, priming his body toward a carnal lust that was vital to the survival of his kind.

Because King Feydon had sown his seed where he should not have, Lyon would soon find himself yoked with a bride not of his own choosing. One whose name and face were unknown to him, but whom he nevertheless had journeyed here from Tuscany to find.

According to Feydon, his three FaerieBlend daughters were each in some sort of danger and time was of the essence. Nicholas, his eldest brother, had found the first of the daughters on the outskirts of Rome in a matter of weeks and quickly wed her. Raine had recently located the second daughter in Venice and brought her under his protection.

Now Lyon was left with the task of finding the third daughter here in Paris. But tomorrow would be time enough for duty. Tonight was for something altogether different.

This-his first night in Paris-could well be his last night of freedom. He planned to enjoy it.

A shout drew his attention. There was some sort of revelry commencing ahead, atop the Pont Neuf, the Seine River's most famous bridge. The "new bridge" it was called, though it had seen completion over two centuries earlier.

Lyon veered in its direction, abandoning the row of stately town homes along the Quai de Conti for the opposite sidewalk that edged the river. As the li