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Authors: Alexandra Ivy

Bound By Darkness (13 page)

BOOK: Bound By Darkness
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To hell with the treaty.
If Salvatore touched Nefri he was a dead dog.
“Stay back.”
The golden eyes briefly glowed as the wolf sensed a direct challenge; then with a sudden laugh the Were stepped back.
“Feeling a little possessive, are you, Santiago?” he mocked.
Possessive? Of course he wasn't possessive. He adored women. All women. And they adored him. But he was a firm believer in the more the merrier.
It was just ...
Mierda
, he didn't know what it was, but he did know that Salvatore was annoying the crap out of him.
“I doubt your mate would be pleased to know you spend your days sniffing other women.”
Salvatore's smile widened, as if sensing Santiago's strange reaction.
“And you're concerned for my marriage? How thoughtful.”
Nefri smoothly stepped between the two bristling men, giving a small dip of her head.
“I offer my apologies, Your Majesty,” she said. “It was not my intent to trespass upon your territory.”
Salvatore's gaze remained trained on Santiago. “A leech with manners? Isn't that an oxymoron?”
“Such a big word for such a mangy dog,” Santiago said.
With a lethal swiftness, all sense of amusement was wiped from Salvatore's handsome face to reveal the true predator beneath.
“How did you get here?” he demanded.
Seemingly realizing that playtime was over, Nefri reached to brush her fingers over the medallion hung around her neck.
“I have the power to travel between worlds.”
“Like a Jinn?”
“It is similar, although my powers come from the medallion and not my innate abilities.”
Salvatore's eyes narrowed, clearly not comforted by her explanation.
“A nice trick,” he growled. “Perfect for an ambush.”
“I do try not to abuse the skill,” Nefri assured him.
“If you didn't abuse the skill then you wouldn't be in my very private wine cellar, would you?”
“Watch your tone, Salvatore,” Santiago snapped.
Nefri waved her slender hand. “He has a right to answers.”
“More than a right,” Salvatore corrected, his inner beast prowling close to the surface. “In fact, let's pretend your lives depend on your explanation.”
“As you are perhaps aware, Santiago is searching for the seer,” Nefri answered before Santiago could tell the King of Mutts exactly where he could shove his threats. “I have come in search for Cassandra as well.”
“And you think I have her hidden in my wine cellar?”
“Do you?” Santiago asked. “It would certainly explain ...”
“Gentlemen, please,” Nefri gently protested.
“Gentlemen?” Salvatore snorted. “He's a cold-blooded bastard who will kill on a whim.”
“And you're a mangy prick who likes to play Dr. Frankenstein.”
Nefri's power swirled through the air with just enough force to make both men shudder at the promise of pain.
“I am beginning to think the term ‘children' would be more appropriate,” she said in dry tones.
The men grimaced in unison before Salvatore gave a wave of his hand.
“Continue.”
“We entered your clansman's lair... .”
“Clansman?” the Were interrupted with a frown.
“Caine,” Santiago clarified.
Salvatore gave a sound of disgust. The King of Weres still blamed the one-time cur for being a pawn of the demon lord intent on destroying the werewolves. Caine's transformation to a pureblood hadn't dimmed Salvatore's desire to eat him for breakfast.
Literally.
“Did you find any trace of them?” Salvatore demanded.
“No, they had disappeared,” Nefri explained.
“And it didn't occur to you to follow?”
“There was no means to track them.”
“A pity,” Salvatore retorted, “but I'm still not hearing what brings you to my humble abode.”
Nefri shrugged. “If I cannot follow her trail forward, then I must follow it backward.”
“Backward? Is that some sort of vampire logic?”
“If we can retrace their steps then we can speak with those who saw them last.” Without warning, the female vampire drifted toward the nearby shelves, her beautiful face distracted. “It might tell us if they were traveling to a particular destination or if they feared they were being followed. If nothing else they might have mentioned if they were to meet anyone in Chicago.”
Seemingly impressed by Nefri's logic, Salvatore slid a glance in Santiago's direction.
“Intelligent as well as beautiful—you're in trouble,
amico mio.
”
Santiago wisely ignored the taunt, suddenly realizing why Nefri had brought them to these particular cellars.
She had followed Cassandra's scent to this location.
“You failed to mention that Cassandra paid you a visit,” he said in cold accusation.
Salvatore scowled. “That's because she didn't.”
“Are you certain?” Santiago demanded, shifting so he could keep an eye on Nefri as she ran a hand over a wooden shelf.
The golden eyes glowed with an eerie power. “No one calls me a liar and survives.”
“Keep your fur on,” he snarled. “Maybe she visited your mate while you were out.”
Salvatore looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. “Harley has been desperate to be reunited with her sister. If Cassandra had dropped by, then I would have heard every detail, no matter how insignificant, of their reunion.”
“Maybe Cassandra asked her to keep the meeting a secret.”
“Obviously you've never been mated,” Salvatore muttered. “She wasn't here.”
“She was.” Nefri intruded into the argument, giving a sharp shove of the shelves.
There was the sound of creaking wood; then the shelves swung to the side, revealing a cement-lined room the size of a walk-in closet. The perfect size for a prison cell. At the moment it was empty, but clutching the medallion in her hand, Nefri briefly closed her eyes and muttered a low word. The air stirred and Santiago stiffened in shock at the unmistakable scent of a female pureblood.
“Cassandra.”
“Her scent was masked by a spell,” Nefri explained.
For the first time since their entrance, Hess moved, reminding Santiago that he was more than a lump of muscle.
“And Caine the Traitor,” he rasped, his eyes glowing the red of a cur on the point of shifting.
Salvatore sent his lieutenant a warning glare before brushing past Nefri to enter the cement cell. He smoothly crouched down to study the dried blood on the floor.
“Can you tell us how long ago?” he demanded of Nefri.
“Two, maybe three weeks.”
Santiago moved to stand next to the Were, still not entirely certain the mangy beast was as baffled as he pretended to be by the revelation of Cassandra and Caine's presence in the wine cellars.
“Why would they sneak into your lair?”
Salvatore straightened with unnerving speed, standing nose to nose with Santiago.
“Careful, bloodsucker.”
With a click of her tongue Nefri shooed them away from the blood stains, still clutching the medallion in her hand. As she whispered a low word there was another shift in the air, revealing a tangle of scents that had been hidden by illusion.
Santiago muttered a curse, glancing at the stain. “It's Caine's blood. He must have been trying to protect Cassandra.”
“Si.”
Salvatore absently agreed, his head tilted back as he breathed deeply of the stale air. “I smell vamp.” He stabbed Santiago with a suspicious glare. “Do you recognize the scent?”
“ No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“It's ...” Santiago struggled to explain. “Missing. I can sense it was a vampire, but there's a void around him.”
The Were scowled. “An amulet?”
“No.” Santiago shook his head, as confused as the Were. “The vampire isn't hidden, it's more like he, or she, has been stripped of his identity.”
“Impossible.”
“Then you explain what the hell it is.”
The dark eyes glowed a dangerous gold. “At first guess, I would say it's a trick.”
Santiago ran a finger down the edge of his blade. “It's not just a vampire. There was also a cur.”
“Two curs,” Nefri murmured, a troubled expression marring her Madonna calm. “And a witch.”
Salvatore arched his brows in surprise. “The witch would explain the magic to cover their presence here. But what the hell were they doing with Cassandra and Caine?”
Her dark, magnificent eyes skimmed the stark cement cell.
“They lured them here.”
Santiago moved to stand at her side, shivering as her cool energy wrapped around him, licking over his skin and stirring his hair.
Santa madre
, that much power roused him like the finest aphrodisiac.
“Why?”
Her dark eyes held an ancient sadness. “They intended to capture them.”
Santiago grimaced. “Traitors.”
She dipped her head in reluctant agreement. “Traitors.”
Chapter 9
Jaelyn stumbled out of the portal and into the large meadow with the grace of a drunken harpy.
Recovering her balance, she whirled around, fully prepared to punish anyone stupid enough to be laughing at her. Luckily for them, her companions were struggling with their own exits.
Levet landed on his head, his horns stuck in the soft dirt. And right behind him, Ariyal fell to his knees, his long braid falling over his shoulder as he bent forward, struggling to catch his breath.
Obviously the effort of creating a portal to take three demons from England to America, not to mention bending time to make sure they arrived precisely at nightfall to keep Jaelyn from being turned into ash, had taken its toll.
“Bloody hell,” the Sylvermyst panted, casting an evil glare at the gargoyle, who had managed to free himself and was busy knocking the mud from his horns. “That's the last time I haul your stony ass halfway around the world.”
The gargoyle squeaked in horror, his wings flapping as he turned in a circle, attempting to peer over his shoulder.
“Are you implying that I'm fat?” He halted to turn a pleading glance toward Jaelyn. “
Ma enfant
, am I fat?”
“Of course not,” she assured the tiny demon.
“There, you see?” He sent a raspberry toward Ariyal, patting his backside. “I have buns of steel.”
The Sylvermyst growled a harsh obscenity while Jaelyn struggled to hide her smile.
She'd convinced Ariyal they couldn't leave the gargoyle behind. He was too intimately acquainted with their quest to track down the child of the Dark Lord to risk him falling into the hands of their enemies.
How much torture would the tiny creature endure before he was blabbing everything he knew?
Battle tactics demanded they keep him close at hand.
But she couldn't deny the fact that Levet irritated Ariyal on an epic scale was a decided bonus.
“You're a lump of granite who should have been left in the sewers of London,” Ariyal snapped, rising to his feet with a fluid grace that tugged at something deep inside Jaelyn.
She shifted uneasily, her gaze tracing the elegant male profile.
Dammit. This was why she was trained to avoid sexual relationships.
It would be bad enough to take him as her lover if he was still her target, but at least then she could have turned him over to the Commission after the deed was done. Or better yet, killed him.
Now she had no choice but to follow him when he claimed he could use his tribal connection with Tearloch to track him down.
A breeze stirred the air, bringing with it the rich scent of herbs. Ariyal's scent.
Her fangs lengthened, her hunger rising as her gaze instinctively slid to the strong column of his neck. She swallowed a groan, sharply turning away.
She needed to feed.
This brutal urgency had nothing to do with Ariyal's blood in particular.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
“I'll leave you two to your male bonding,” she muttered, heading down the path as she sought to get her bearings.
Although they were currently surrounded by open meadows on one side and cornfields on the other, she easily sensed the press of humanity that marked Chicago. It also included a large clan of vampires she hoped to avoid.
Thankfully closer at hand was a decent-sized town that should offer a meal as well as a much-desired shower.
Intent on her escape, Jaelyn clenched her hands in frustration as Ariyal abruptly appeared before her, his face tight with suspicion.
“Where are you going?”
Her brows snapped together at his possessive tone. “Does it matter?”
His eyes shimmered with a pure bronze in the moonlight. “Yes, it damned well matters.”
“Why?”
“I don't intend to be stuck with that miniature pain in the ass.” He pointed toward Levet, who was busy sniffing a bush. “Besides, how do I know you're not going for reinforcements to force me to the Oracles?”
She snorted. “As if I need reinforcements.”
“Then tell me where you're going.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “My errand has nothing to do with you.”
“Shit, Jaelyn,” he growled. “Does everything have to be a fight?”
Her lips thinned as she squashed the urge to continue with their petty squabbling.
“Fine. I must feed,” she grudgingly confessed. “Satisfied?”
Expecting the aggravating fairy to step aside, Jaelyn wasn't prepared when he instead reached out to grab her upper arms and yanked her hard against his body.
“No, I'm not satisfied.”
She glared at him in astonishment. Had he lost his mind?
Nobody manhandled a vampire.
Not unless they had a death wish.
“Well, that's too bad,” she hissed, telling herself it was only her duty to the Addonexus that kept her from ripping out Ariyal's throat.
Instead she planted her hands against his chest and shoved just hard enough to give her the necessary space to continue down the pathway.
“Wait.” He was once again standing in front of her, his expression set in stubborn lines.
“What?”
“Use me.”
“You?”
“I have blood.” He deliberately angled his head to expose the tempting length of his throat. “Drink.”
A piercing yearning shot through her, the vivid image of her fangs buried deep in his throat as he held her pressed tight against his body searing through her mind.
Oh ... hell.
She was in trouble.
The sort of trouble that could get her killed if she wasn't careful.
“No,” she muttered, wrenching her gaze from his neck to meet the fierce glitter in his eyes. “No.”
“Why not?”
“It's not the kind I need.”
“Liar.” His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb teasing at her lower lip. “Vampires find Sylvermyst blood intoxicating. I've had to kill more than one to keep them off my neck.”
She shuddered, her fangs aching.
“Hunters have a specific nutritional need.”
There was enough truth in her words to make him scowl in frustration.
“And where do you expect to find these nutritional needs?”
“There's a town not far from here.”
“Will you hunt?”
She studied him in confusion. She'd been so shocked by her barbaric reaction to his offer of a vein that she hadn't considered why the arrogant, highly distrustful fey would share his royal blood.
Now she studied him in confusion. “What are you asking?”
“Will you sink your fangs into another man's vein?”
She blinked. Holy shit. Was he jealous?
“That's none of your ...”
“I made it my business when I took you as my lover,” he snapped, his head swooping down like a bird of prey.
She braced herself as his mouth branded her lips in a kiss that she felt to the tips of her toes.
For a crazed minute she simply savored the intoxicating pleasure that threatened to consume her. There was no logical explanation for why this man's touch could overcome decades of brutal training, but the urge to rip off her clothes and beg for him to ease her throbbing desire was undeniable.
And why shouldn't I?
A quickie in the cornfield might take the edge off and allow her to regain the icy control that was annoyingly elusive.
“No.” She shook her head, ruthlessly crushing the wicked temptation. She was in this stupid mess because she'd been weak. It wouldn't happen again. “Last night ... it was ...”
The heat of his fey magic filled the air, as enticing as it was lethal.
“Try to claim that it was a mistake and I'll prove you wrong, regardless of our audience,” he snarled, his expression warning that he wasn't bluffing.
“Barbarian,” she accused, even as a deep, primitive part of her wanted him to make good on his threat.
To simply toss her on the ground and have his evil way with her.
Over and over and over.
“You'd better believe it, poppet,” he agreed without apology.
Appalled by her arousal, which was scenting the air, she yanked free of his arms and pointed a finger in his too-handsome face.
“Don't ever make the mistake of thinking you own me.”
Her warning delivered, she shrouded herself in shadows and moved with lightning speed down the pathway.
There was no way she was going to risk being stopped again. Not when she couldn't be trusted not to take the blood she so desperately craved.
She skirted several farmhouses where the humans were nestled in front of their televisions or finishing up the last of their chores. Not one would ever suspect how closely death had brushed past them.
Maintaining the thick shadows that kept her hidden from even the most perceptive demons, Jaelyn angled through a field of soybeans and then slowed her pace as she reached the outskirts of town.
It was set up in the typical Midwest style.
A few brick, colonial-style homes discreetly hidden behind massive oak trees that eventually gave way to the convenience stores and local hotels. Along the main street was a line of small shops that were shuttered for the night, and farther down a cluster of chain restaurants that glowed with neon invitation to the residents.
The side streets led to tidy, well-manicured neighborhoods where the humans covertly kept track of their neighbors while attempting to hide their own naughty secrets. And of course, on the fringes were a few of the more shabby neighborhoods where the residents were too busy surviving to give a crap what anyone else was doing.
Jaelyn ignored both as she instead crossed the parking lot that was shared between the junior college and the small hospital. She slipped through a side door, choosing the back staircase despite the fact she could have easily moved down the brightly lit hallways without attracting the attention of the medical staff.
Why tempt fate?
Bounding up the steps five at a time, she reached the upper floor in a matter of seconds and was shoving open the door to the closed lab. Just as quickly she was searching the refrigerator units that lined the back wall, pulling out three bags of blood and taking them to the high-powered microscopes that were set on the long table in the center of the room.
She hadn't lied to Ariyal when she told him that Hunters had specific dietary requirements.
Although vampires tried to keep the knowledge a deep, dark secret, their greatest vulnerability was through the blood they had to drink to survive.
With the proper skills and the willingness to risk certain death if they failed, a demon could inject just enough silver into their bloodstream so a vampire could not scent the danger until too late. Of course, they would have to be impervious to silver themselves and then convince a vampire to drink enough of their blood to poison them.
Not as easy as one might think.
And then there was the danger from their primary food source ... humans.
When a vampire consumed the blood of an addict there was a danger they could become addicted themselves. Slowly and inevitably they would be driven insane as their brains rotted from the contaminated blood.
She'd been trained never to put anything in her fangs that hadn't been tested.
A task made considerably easier by technology, she conceded, taking a small drop of blood from each bag and studying it beneath the high-powered microscopes. Her senses were extremely acute, but they could be deceived.
Science was absolute.
Once assured the blood was hygienic, she swiftly emptied the bags, telling herself that it didn't matter that it tasted flat. Food was for sustenance, wasn't it? She fed because it was a necessity. Only idiots combined passion with their dinner.
And if her hunger for a certain herb-scented blood continued to plague her ... well, too bad.
Cursing the day, or rather night, she'd crossed paths with Ariyal, the pain-in-the-ass Prince of Sylvermyst, Jaelyn took time for a thorough shower in the employees' private bathroom before heading out of the hospital and back to the main avenue. Once there she found the nearest clothing store and pulled on a pair of black stretchy workout pants that hugged her from her hips to just below her knees as well as a matching crop top that covered her breasts and not much else.
BOOK: Bound By Darkness
4.89Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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