Darkness Avenged

But how?



“We can’t outrun Styx’s guards, not while my magic is on the fritz,” she finally managed to blurt out.



“Once we’re out of the tunnels your magic will return.”



“Maybe or maybe not.” She shuddered as his hand continued to soothe her tense muscles. “I need you to distract them long enough for me to escape.”



“Without me?” His brows drew together. “Never.”



“Once I’m far enough away I’ll contact you and you can join me.”



“No.”



“Roke,” she protested his stubborn refusal to obey.



Obviously her spell was rapidly losing its grip on him. And worse, she was growing weaker with every passing second.



“I won’t leave you,” he said grimly. “It’s too dangerous.”



“I’ll be fine.”



“Yes, because I’ll be with you.”



Suddenly it was all too much. “Damn,” she groaned, sliding down until her butt hit the dirt floor. “I’m too tired to fight.”



Roke squatted in front of her, his expression concerned. “Rest here. I’ll make sure the path is clear.”



“Roke . . .”



“Close your eyes, little witch,” he murmured, brushing a finger over her chilled cheek. “I’ll keep you safe.”



If only that were true, she thought with a twinge of wistful longing.



If only this man did want to keep her safe.



Not because of some spell, but because he thought she was worth saving.



“You’re so stupid, Sally,” she whispered as he pressed his hands against the floor and with one impressive shove was launching himself up and through the opening above. “Stupid and downright pathetic. You’re going to end up dead in this tunnel and no one is going to give a damn.”



It took Roke less than five minutes to scout through the empty house. It was obviously one of Styx’s numerous safe houses that were used only in emergencies.



As he had told Sally, the Anasso was nothing if not thorough.



Sally.



Roke came to a halt in the middle of the never-used kitchen. What the hell? With a sharp shake of his head he felt the urgent, driving need to rescue the beautiful witch from his brothers slowly fade.



Like a fog was being lifted from his mind.



He clenched his hands at his side, his fangs lengthening.



He vividly remembered going to the dungeons with a dinner tray. He’d entered the cell and tried to convince Sally to confess the truth of Gaius’s strange new talents.



And then . . .



And then he’d been overwhelmed by a potent desire to do whatever was necessary to protect the woman who was his sole reason for living.



Goddammit.



The bitch had hit him with a spell.



There could be no other explanation.



Why else would he have suddenly been filled with an unshakable conviction she was his? Not just a pretty female he desired. But his. On a most primitive level.



Hell, even now he could . . . feel her. As if their very souls were entwined.



And worse, she had forced him to sacrifice everything, even loyalty to his people, to keep her safe.



Of all things, that was the one act he could never, ever forgive or forget.



He’d taken a vow when he became clan chief that he would always put his people first. How could he offer them anything less? The previous chief had nearly destroyed them all by his obsession with a female who’d demanded he pamper her every whim.



Now he’d been forced to follow in the footsteps of the man he’d hated.



She was going to pay for that.



With a roar that shattered the nearby window, he returned to the back bedroom where the trapdoor was hidden in the closet. Dropping into the lower tunnel, he landed lightly on the balls of his feet and stormed toward the female who was deeply asleep, curled on her side on the floor.



He was so angry the walls trembled from the force of his temper and the air was frigid enough to form ice crystals. But, as he squatted down to grab Sally and shake her awake, he hesitated.



Christ, she looked so tiny. And exhausted. The fragile features were more pale than usual, with bruised shadows beneath the thick crescents of her lowered lashes. Her autumn hair was splayed over the dirt, and her lips slightly parted, as if inviting a prince to kiss her awake.



Unfortunately for her, he was no prince, Roke bleakly reminded himself. And he’d returned to discover just what nasty spell she’d cast on him, not because of worry that she had pushed herself too hard.



Dammit.



Her magic had to be screwing with his head.



Not to mention his renegade body, he conceded, abruptly shifting his fingers to her shoulder rather than brushing over her cheek as they started to do.



“Sally.” He gave her a small shake. “Wake up.”



Her brow furrowed as she struggled to lift her lashes, the rich brown eyes dazed as she tried to focus on him.



“Roke?” She blinked in confusion. “I can’t . . . tired . . .”



He leaned down so he could grasp her shoulders, pulling her into a sitting position with far greater care than she deserved. “Wake up,” he commanded, not for the first time irritated that it was impossible to enthrall a witch. It would have saved them all one hell of a lot of trouble.



She groaned, her head tilting back to smack against the wall of the tunnel. “What?” she demanded in thick tones. “What’s happened?”



“That’s what you’re about to explain, little witch,” he snarled. “Just what the hell did you do to me?”



“Do?”



His threatening growl echoed through the tunnel. “Don’t even try to deny you put a spell on me.”



“Oh.” He could hear her heartbeat quicken, her muscles clenching beneath his fingers. “I didn’t.”



He ignored her ridiculous denial. “Is it black magic?”



“No.” Her words remained slurred with exhaustion. “I swear.”



“Like I would take your word.”



“How could I?” She licked her lips and Roke swallowed a choked curse. Was it deliberate? Did she know the small provocation sent a jolt of hunger through his body? “The dungeons are hexed to prevent magic.”



“You obviously found a way to get around Styx’s protection.” His lips twisted. “Unless you expect me to believe I took one look at you and tumbled head over heels in love?”



She flinched at his cruel mockery, but the foolish female didn’t back down. “It wasn’t a spell. It was . . .”



“I’m listening.”



There was a long pause before she heaved a weary sigh. “My natural powers.”



“Natural?” he scoffed. “Humans have no powers.”



Her lashes lowered, hiding her eyes. “Then the logical answer is that I’m not entirely human,” she murmured.



His brows snapped together. It was the logical answer. The hexes would have prevented any spell cast by a witch. Even the most powerful witch.



But how could he have missed the fact that she was a mongrel?



Did the fact she was a witch conceal her demon blood?



“What are you?”



Her eyes remained closed as she shook her head. “I don’t know.”



His fingers dug into her shoulders. “Tell me.”



“I . . . can’t.”



With a tiny sound of distress her head flopped forward and Roke sensed her consciousness slip away.



“Shit.” He glared down at the top of her head. Now what?



The sensible thing to do would be to return her to the dungeons and let Styx deal with her.



Once he revealed that he was susceptible to the female’s powers (yeah, and wouldn’t that be a fun and jolly confession?) the Anasso would be careful to assign a new guard to keep watch on her.



But even as the thought crossed through his mind, he was shoving it aside. Not just because he didn’t want to share his spectacular failure with Styx. But because he could still feel the damned woman lodged deep inside him.



When she woke, she was going to remove whatever curse she’d put on him.



Then...



Then he was returning to Nevada and Styx could shove the prophet’s vague warning up his ass.



Chapter 14



The middle of nowhere, Louisiana



Nefri returned from her search of the countryside to join Santiago at his vehicle.



While the male vampire had been burying the bodies of Melinda’s drinking companions to prevent any lingering infection, Nefri had left Levet keeping watch over the sleeping girl while she’d scouted for any signs of Gaius.



She couldn’t shake the sensation that she was missing something.



Something that might very well be the difference between success and failure.



But no matter how hard she tried to pinpoint her source of unease, it slipped away as swiftly as a mist fairy.



Stepping around the bed of the truck, the nagging sensation was abruptly forgotten at the sight of Santiago leaning against the driver’s side door.



What was it about this vampire that sent a shock of excitement through her just by catching sight of him?



She was an ancient clan chief who’d assumed she had seen and done everything possible.