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  PRAISE FOR #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  CHRISTINE FEEHAN

  "The erotic, gripping series that has defined an entire genre . . . I love everything [Christine Feehan] does."

  --J. R. Ward

  "The queen of paranormal romance."

  --USA Today

  "Gritty, brutal and wonderfully magical . . . Unexpected and mesmerizing perfection."

  --Library Journal

  "Once again, Christine Feehan brings a sizzling story of seduction and sorcery to her readers."

  --Examiner.com

  "Book after book, Feehan gives readers emotionally rich and powerful stories that are hard to forget!"

  --RT Book Reviews

  "She is the master."

  --The Best Reviews

  "Intense, sensual, mesmerizing."

  --Library Journal

  "[An] out-of-the-ordinary romance . . . deeply sensuous . . . exquisitely detailed."

  --Booklist

  "Exciting and full of danger as well as a deeply moving love story."

  --Fresh Fiction

  "Ms. Feehan is at the top of her game with this magical romance."

  --The Romance Readers Connection "Suspenseful, engaging--fraught with magic, action and romance . . . I HAVE to read the next one in the series."

  --Smexy Books

  "Avid readers of Ms. Feehan's work should dive in."

  --Fiction Vixen

  "Stunning, vivid, lushly visual . . . It's the perfect way to escape."

  --Romance Books Forum

  Titles by Christine Feehan

  POWER GAME

  SPIDER GAME

  VIPER GAME

  SAMURAI GAME

  RUTHLESS GAME

  STREET GAME

  MURDER GAME

  PREDATORY GAME

  DEADLY GAME

  CONSPIRACY GAME

  NIGHT GAME

  MIND GAME

  SHADOW GAME

  HIDDEN CURRENTS

  TURBULENT SEA

  SAFE HARBOR

  DANGEROUS TIDES

  OCEANS OF FIRE

  LEOPARD'S FURY

  WILD CAT

  CAT'S LAIR

  LEOPARD'S PREY

  SAVAGE NATURE

  WILD FIRE

  BURNING WILD

  WILD RAIN

  BOUND TOGETHER

  FIRE BOUND

  EARTH BOUND

  AIR BOUND

  SPIRIT BOUND

  WATER BOUND

  SHADOW REAPER

  SHADOW RIDER

  DARK CAROUSEL

  DARK PROMISES

  DARK GHOST

  DARK BLOOD

  DARK WOLF

  DARK LYCAN

  DARK STORM

  DARK PREDATOR

  DARK PERIL

  DARK SLAYER

  DARK CURSE

  DARK HUNGER

  DARK POSSESSION

  DARK CELEBRATION

  DARK DEMON

  DARK SECRET

  DARK DESTINY

  DARK MELODY

  DARK SYMPHONY

  DARK GUARDIAN

  DARK LEGEND

  DARK FIRE

  DARK CHALLENGE

  DARK MAGIC

  DARK GOLD

  DARK DESIRE

  DARK PRINCE

  Anthologies EDGE OF DARKNESS

  (with Maggie Shayne and Lori Herter)

  DARKEST AT DAWN

  (includes Dark Hunger and Dark Secret)

  SEA STORM

  (includes Magic in the Wind and Oceans of Fire)

  FEVER

  (includes The Awakening and Wild Rain)

  FANTASY

  (with Emma Holly, Sabrina Jeffries, and Elda Minger)

  LOVER BEWARE

  (with Fiona Brand, Katherine Sutcliffe, and Eileen Wilks)

  HOT BLOODED

  (with Maggie Shayne, Emma Holly, and Angela Knight)

  Specials

  DARK CRIME

  THE AWAKENING

  DARK HUNGER

  MAGIC IN THE WIND

  A JOVE BOOK

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  Copyright (c) 2017 by Christine Feehan

  Excerpt from Power Game copyright (c) 2017 by Christine Feehan Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  A JOVE BOOK and BERKLEY are registered trademarks and the B colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780399583964

  First Edition: June 2017

  Cover illustration by Danny O'Leary Cover design by Judith Lagerman

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  Contents

  Praise for Christine Feehan

  Titles by Christine Feehan

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  For My Readers

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Excerpt from Power Game

  About the Author

  For Cindy Hwang, who always has my back.

  Thank you for your patience and understanding.

  Thank you for your willingness to allow me to go

  to places most editors wouldn't. Mostly, thank you

  for the incredible friendship over so many years.

  With much love.

  FOR MY READERS

  Be sure to go to christinefeehan.com/members/ to sign up for my PRIVATE book announcement list and download the FREE ebook of Dark Desserts. Join my community and get firsthand news, enter the book discussions, ask your questions and chat with me. Please feel free to email me at Christine@christine feehan.com. I would love to hear from you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, there are people to thank for helping me with this book. First and foremost, Lee Harrington (passionandsoul.com). I studied Shibari in many books, but you took the time to Skype with me and answer all my questions. You went out of your way to help me, and I thank you for that. You gave me an understanding of the culture, the history and the various ways Shibari is used. When I needed additional help, your books were invaluable and you answered even more questions. Any mistakes made are mine alone. Thank you so much for your patience. I appreciate Midori for allowing me to attend one of her classes. Thank you, Marc Kennedy (TinyK.net), for stepping in when we desperately needed a rope master to tie for the trailer. I know you drove through a snowstorm to help us out. Thank you so much! Thanks to Domini Stottsberry for being with me every step of the way to get this book out when disaster after disaster occurred
. And thanks to Brian Feehan for working out the fight scenes with me, brainstorming fight sequences and encouraging me when everything that could go wrong did. Denise Tucker, during the worst times, when my hard drive melted and I thought the book lost, you were the calm in the middle of a terrible storm and you found a way to get it back and kept me from a major meltdown while it was all happening. Thank you!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Ricco Ferraro wanted to punch something. Hard. No, he needed to punch something--or someone, preferably his brother. It would be satisfying to feel the crunch of his knuckles splitting open flesh. Cracking bone. Yeah. He could get behind that if his brother didn't shut the hell up. They were in a hospital with doctors and nurses surrounding them on every floor. If he really went to town and made it real, Stefano wouldn't suffer for too long.

  "Ricco," Stefano hissed again, using his low, annoying, big-brother tone that made Ricco feel crazier than he already was feeling. "Are you even listening to me? This has got to stop. The next time you might not make it."

  Stefano had been lecturing him for the last ten minutes; Ricco figured no one could listen that long, let alone him. He didn't have the patience. He knew damn well how close he'd come to dying. They'd replaced every drop of blood he had in his body not once, but twice. He'd been in the fucking hospital for weeks.

  His car had hit the wall at over two hundred miles an hour, but he knew he hadn't driven into it. Something broke and the suspension went, driving pieces of metal through his body like shrapnel. He'd lived it. He still felt it. Every muscle and bone in his body hurt like hell.

  "I'll listen when you make sense, Stefano," Ricco snapped and finished buttoning up his shirt. It wasn't easy. The pain was excruciating when he made the slightest movement, but he was getting out of this damn hospital whether the doctor signed the release papers or not. He'd had enough of all of them--especially his older brother.

  He turned to face them--his four brothers and one sister with their expressions so concerned. Grim. But there was Francesca, Stefano's wife. He focused on her and the compassion in her eyes. She had nudged Stefano several times to get him to stop. It had worked twice, but only for a moment or two.

  "I'm going to say this one more time and never again. You don't have to believe me." He spoke to Francesca, because surprisingly, it was Francesca who believed him. They all should have--they could hear lies. That gave him pause. He could hear lies. If no one believed him, it was because he had to be lying to them--and to himself.

  He turned his back on them. Just that little motion hurt. His body protested the slightest thing he did. "At least wait until you get the report on the car before you jump to conclusions. I didn't have control. The car's system just shut down." That much he was certain of. He drove at speeds of over two hundred miles per hour and had no trouble; his hand-eye coordination and his reflexes never failed him. The car had failed. He knew that with absolute certainty, so why couldn't he convince his brothers and sister that he hadn't tried to end his life? Why couldn't he convince himself?

  It took everything he had to stand there, trying not to sway when his body broke out in a sweat and he could count his heartbeats through the pain swamping his muscles. What had he done to try to save himself? Nothing. He'd done nothing. He'd let fate decide, closing his eyes and giving himself up to the judgment of the universe. He'd woken up in the hospital with needles in his arm and bags of blood going into him.

  His room was filled with flowers. There were boxes of cards, all from people in Ferraro territory, the blocks of city considered off-limits to any criminal. Their people, all good and decent. He hadn't looked at the cards, but he wanted to keep them. He didn't deserve those cards any more than he deserved the concern on his brothers' and sister's faces, or the compassion Francesca showed. Still, he was alive and he had to continue.

  "Something went wrong with the car, Stefano," he repeated, turning back to look his brother in the eye.

  "We're checking the car," Vittorio assured him. He was always the peacemaker in the family, and Ricco appreciated him. "We towed it immediately to our personal garage and it's been under guard. Only our trusted people are working on it."

  Ricco flicked his brother a quick glance that was meant to serve as a thank-you. He didn't say it aloud, not with Stefano breathing down his neck.

  "You almost died," Stefano said, and this time the anger was gone from his voice and there was strain. Apprehension. Caring.

  That was Ricco's undoing. It was impossible to see or hear the stoic Stefano torn up. He was the acknowledged head of the family for a reason. Ricco didn't deserve the way they cared so much. There were too many secrets, too many omissions. He'd put them all in jeopardy and they had no idea. Worse, he couldn't tell them. He just had to watch over them night and day, a duty he took very seriously.

  He shook his head, sighing. "I know, Stefano. I'm sorry. I lost control of the car." That was true. He had. He remembered very little of the aftermath, but in that moment when he realized the car wasn't an extension of him anymore, that it was a beast roaring for supremacy, separate from him, he had felt relief that it was over. If he had died, it all would have been over and the danger to his family gone.

  "Are you convincing me? Or yourself?" Stefano asked quietly. "We're taking you out of here, but you have to pull yourself together. Enough with the craziness, Ricco, or I'll have no choice but to pull you off rotation even when you're physically fit and have the doctor's okay to work."

  Gasps went up from his brothers and Emmanuelle, his sister. Francesca uttered a soft "no" and shook her head. Ricco's heart nearly seized. He was a rider. A shadow rider. It was who he was. What he was. A rider had no choice but to do what he'd been trained for from the age of two--even before that. It was in his bones, in his blood, he couldn't live without it. He dispensed justice to those the law couldn't touch.

  Stefano stepped directly in front of him, close, so they were eye to eye. "Understand me, Ricco. I won't lose you. I'll do anything to save you. Anything. Give anything, including my life. I'll use every weapon in my arsenal to protect you from yourself and any enemy that comes your way. You do something about this, whatever it takes, and that includes counseling. But there aren't going to be any more accidents. You get me, brother? There will be no more accidents."

  Ricco nodded his head. What else could he do? When Stefano laid down the law he meant every word he said. It wasn't often Stefano spoke like this to them, but no one would ever defy him, including Ricco. He loved his brother. His family. He'd sacrificed most of his life for them gladly, but Stefano was more than a brother. He was mom, dad, big brother, protector, all of it rolled into one.

  It had been Stefano who had always been there for him. His own mother and father hadn't even come to the hospital to visit him after the accident, but Stefano had barely left even to eat. He looked haggard and worn. Every time the pain had awakened Ricco from his semiconscious state, Stefano and his brothers and Emmanuelle had been right there with him. That solidarity only reinforced Ricco's decision to keep them safe. They were everything to him.

  "I get you," he assured softly.

  "It's done then. When the doctor okays it, you resume training, but you don't train any more than the regular hours. You sleep even if you have to take something to get you to sleep. You stop drinking so fucking much, and you talk to me if you are having trouble doing those things."

  Ricco's heart was pounding overtime now. He couldn't promise Stefano that he would stop with his extra training hours. He had to make certain he was in top form at all times, that he didn't--couldn't--ever make a mistake. That was part of him as well. But how did he explain that to his brother when he couldn't explain why? He just nodded, remaining silent so no one could hear his lie.

  He drank sometimes to put himself to sleep, but he could stop with no problem, he just wouldn't be able to sleep. He wasn't about to say anything more to Stefano. It was impossible to lie to him and he didn't want his brother to worry any more than he al
ready did.

  Staring into the mirror as he finished buttoning his dove-gray shirt, he looked at the vicious bruises and the swelling, the side of his head that had nearly been caved in. Beneath the shirt his muscles rippled with every movement, a testimony to his strength--and he was unbelievably strong. It had been his superb physical condition that had saved him from certain death--at least that was what the surgeon said, his strength and a miracle. His frame was deceptive in that his roped muscles weren't so obvious, the way his cousins' were, but they were there beneath the skin of his wide shoulders and powerful arms.

  He reached for his suit jacket. The Ferraro family of riders always wore pin-striped suits. Always. It was their signature. Even Emmanuelle wore the suit, fitted and making her look like a million bucks, but then she could wear anything and look beautiful. He sent his sister a reassuring smile because she looked as if she might cry. He knew he looked rough. He felt worse than rough, but his sister didn't have to know that.

  "I'm fine, Emme," he reassured softly. He wasn't, but then he hadn't been for a long, long time.

  "Of course you are," she said briskly, but she looked strained. "Walking away from a crash like that is easy for a Ferraro."

  He hadn't exactly walked away from it, but he was standing now. He forced himself not to wince as he donned his jacket. Once the material settled over his arms and shoulders, he looked the way his brothers looked, a fit male, intimidating, imposing even.

  There was a rustle at the door. His brothers Giovanni and Taviano moved aside to allow the doctor and nurse to enter. The doctor glared at all of them. The nurse kept her eyes on the floor. He noted her hands were shaking. She didn't want to confront the Ferraros, but had no choice when the surgeon insisted on saying his piece.

  "You shouldn't be up, Mr. Ferraro," Dr. Townsend said.

  "I'm fine," Ricco assured. "And very grateful to you." That had to be said whether it was a lie or not--and he honestly didn't know if it was.

  "I refuse to release you. You could have blood clots, an aneurism, any number of complications," the doctor continued.

  "I won't." Ricco gave them the look every Ferraro had perfected before their tenth birthday. His eyes were cold and flat and hard. Both the doctor and nurse immediately moved back. That, at least, was satisfying. He took another step toward them and they parted to allow him through. He might look like hell, and feel worse, but he was still formidable.

  "I want the boxes of cards, but you can distribute the flowers to other hospital patients," Ricco continued, ignoring Stefano's frown. He knew what that meant. Stefano would want to talk to his doctor. A shadow rider could hear lies and compel truth--even from someone in the medical field. He kept walking, knowing his brother would never let him walk out to face the reporters alone.