Chapter Three
Stryke let his words sink in. Zoey’s complexion had been returning to normal until his announcement. Now, she paled and her mouth dropped.
“You lie.”
“Do I?”
She’d have a better sense than he would. Vampires could sense emotions better than selfish demons could, though Stryke could sense more from her because of their bond.
A flush spread up her neck. “No. Impossible. I agreed to nothing.”
He sighed. “You did, but you didn’t understand at the time what you were agreeing to.” This…this was the part he dreaded. “Because I was in Mitchell.”
Zoey exploded off the bed, her half-empty juice bottle spilling blue liquid over the pink carpet. “You lie.” She prowled around the bed, eyes intense with rage, her fangs bared. “How dare you drag him into this mess. How dare you insinuate he’d host a demon.”
“I said they don’t always have a choice.”
She stopped in front of him. “You aren’t strong enough to possess a prime. Fyra said she can’t. How can you?”
He remained sitting. Zoey wasn’t clawing his eyes out and he didn’t want her any more on the defensive than she already was.
“I’m older,” he explained, “and the energy aspect of my abilities is stronger than hers.”
Zoey’s gaze darted away, then back. Her brow furrowed and she looked away again. He didn’t need vampire senses to know she was thinking what he said made too much sense.
She licked her lips. “Mitchell would’ve known, and he wouldn’t have tolerated it.”
“He didn’t detect me.” Almost had, but Stryke had withdrawn enough to remain under the radar. “The undercover assignment you two were on distracted him enough to allow me to hitch a ride.”
Color leeched from her face again. She was likely ruminating over whether or not he knew all the details of their ill-fated mission.
“Yes, I was there.” Stryke rested his hands on his lap and spoke calmly. “You two were tasked with getting inside Sigma, reporting to Demetrius what was going on, and implicating the Vampire Council in their wrongdoing. Well done, by the way. Your team dismantled a government that ruled for centuries.”
Zoey shook her head, her eyes glistened. “No, impossible. Mitchell was too strong to be possessed.”
Stryke’s lips flattened. Perhaps at one time, but not when Stryke had seized his opportunity. Unlike other demons who needed brokers to prep a host, Stryke used his abilities to sense openings, and he could exit the underworld right into a new host. Zoey’s opinion of her mate was the best one possible and for good reason. Her mate had kept his inner turmoil from her, and it’d eaten at him until it had left an opening for Stryke.
“You are correct, he was strong.” Zoey recoiled at his easy acceptance. “But I am not one of the Circle, who needs a prime vampire to hand themselves over. I can sense energy, how it moves, the path it takes. I sensed an opening and crossed the realm into your mate.”
Zoey twitched like she wanted to cross her arms, but she was still bound. She dropped her hands in front of her. “What kind of opening?”
No, Stryke wouldn’t tell her that. He’d actually agreed with Mitchell’s decision to keep his inner turmoil from her; by then, Stryke had grown overly fond of her himself. “It’s not always identifiable, but you two were carrying out a pretty covert operation. Perhaps it was the stress of betraying his family.”
Partial truth. Very close to the truth, actually. Zoey wouldn’t detect his lie, and neither would she determine the real meaning behind Stryke’s words.
She mulled over his statement. “And one time when you were in Mitchell, we supposedly bonded.”
“All it takes is a bite, Zoey. It’s all about blood.” His words were guttural. She and her mate had copulated many, many times, every chance they had gotten. And he’d been there, too.
A blush stained her cheeks. Yeah, she’d figured that out. Over and over, they’d sworn their loyalty to each other, Mitchell more to justify what he’d been planning. All it took was once for Stryke to insert himself into the equation and bond to her. He didn’t regret it; his unrepentant demon genes wouldn’t allow it.
“You’re like a supernatural voyeur.” She swallowed hard. “Did you kill Mitchell?”
Stryke’s chest squeezed as he remembered the lick of the flames claiming Mitchell’s body. Zoey’s frantic pounding on the other side of the door. The stench of flesh burning as Mitchell succumbed. The male had blamed himself for getting murdered and had mourned what it would do to her. Stryke had stayed until the last minute when the portal opened and sucked him back home, the inferno covering his tracks.
“Losing a host does not benefit me.” Truth. Not complete, but enough for an answer.
She took a step back, then another. “I’m bonded to a demon.” Her wide gaze landed on him, filling with fury. “You asshole. I lost Mitchell and now you threaten my job, my profession, my life?”
“What are you—” Oh, her position on the Synod. No, he couldn’t imagine they’d take news of Zoey’s demon mate lightly. And Hypna had tried to kill her.
She stormed toward him, her face a mask of rage.
She moved so fast, he couldn’t dodge her swing. Balling her hands together, she smacked him over the head. Stryke flew sideways and rolled off the bed with a thunk. By the time he righted himself, she had located the keys and unlocked herself. Damn her speed.
Fear propelled him into motion. He lunged toward her with a roar. She couldn’t get away.
Zoey charged out the door and Stryke skidded into the hallway behind her. Lee rushed to the hallway after hearing the commotion and the stupid kid stepped in her way.
Damn that boy. “Lee, move!”
Lee froze once confronted with a conscious Zoey.
Zoey slammed past Lee, flattening him against the wall without hurting him.
What a female.
Instead of slowing to look for an exit, she kicked up her speed and raced for a window.
Panic flared in Stryke. If she passed the house’s wards, she’d flash away.
He stretched out his arm, almost snagged her coat, but she charged through the glass. The shatter interrupted the silent night and he jumped through the opening after her.
She disappeared as soon as she was clear. He attuned himself to their bond. Please work. He righted himself with a grim smile; he could follow her anywhere.
***
Zoey reappeared outside of the compound. Its stark concrete exterior was the best thing she’d seen in ages. Cold air washed over her, cooling the overheated effects of that demon.
Bonded. She huffed. As if. She started for the exterior door.
The air sizzled behind her and because of that damn bond, she knew Stryke had tracked her.
She spun and snapped a fist out.
He ducked back and caught her hand in his.
“By all that’s evil, I’d forgotten how fast you are.”
She wanted to preen at the pride in his voice. Instead she plowed her knee toward his impressive genitals, but he blocked her. Ripping her hand free of his grip, she dipped and spun to dig an elbow into his abdomen. She couldn’t make a connection. He wrapped her in a bear hug, his arms pinning hers to her sides.
The door crashed open and half of her team poured out with guns raised.
Demetrius, Bishop, and Rourke spread out to form a perimeter. Stryke edged backward with Zoey but kept her cradled in front of him. Even flaccid, his impressive genitals prodded her backside.
Zoey stilled, not knowing why. Her crew was here to help, she could fight and kick, and they’d take head shots at Stryke. But she didn’t want it to come to that.
“It’s a fucking demon,” Rourke said.
“Not just any demon,” Bishop said, lowering his pistol, “that’s Stryke, in the flesh—and a lot of it.”
“We’ve met, then.” Demetrius kept his gun trained on Stryke.
Yes, they had crossed paths with him, but Stryke had always been in a host.
Creed stalked out of the compound, his face a mask of rage. Her stomach plummeted, both at his reaction and hers. Because her first thought was that she’d regret ever having slept with Creed if he hurt Stryke. How shameful was that? Creed was a good male, a worthy one, unlike the demon holding her hostage.
But she couldn’t deny the draw she felt to the big male behind her.
Stryke’s muscles were like granite at her back until he abruptly released her. She stumbled a few steps forward in surprise but angled herself so she could keep an eye on him and her team.
“I didn’t come here to hurt anyone.” His voice still sent delicious shivers up and down her spine. She had to get over the feeling and fast.
“He says we’re bonded,” she announced.
“What?” Creed’s steady aim remained right between Stryke’s eyes. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow him down enough so the guys could capture him—or worse.
Stryke nodded. “It’s true.”
Demetrius made a disgusted noise. “We seem to have a rash of unwanted bonds.”
Stryke showed a hint of a smile, no doubt knowing her friends’ history. Demetrius’s mate had been bonded as a child and D had saved her from her fate. Bishop had been bonded months ago but hadn’t wanted to be saved from it. And his mate, Fyra, was becoming one of Zoey’s best friends.
“He says he possessed Mitchell.”
Silence. The four vampires stared at her in shock. They’d known Mitchell. He’d been a part of their team because of her. Like her, her friends hadn’t suspected anything.
“How could you do that without us knowing?” Demetrius spoke what the rest were thinking, what Zoey had been wondering since Stryke had spilled his guts. “I thought second-tiers weren’t strong enough to possess vampires, and Mitchell was a prime.”
Stryke shrugged. “Most of us aren’t strong enough. Sometimes, it just takes knowing the limits of our strength.”
“That’s a shitty answer,” Rourke said.
Stryke’s gaze slid to Rourke, his expression a mask of calm. Everything about him read like he was taking a Sunday stroll, no stress, unhurried, no big that he was nude. “I’m an energy demon and I’m not young. I’ve had more than enough time to learn my strength and,” he glanced at Zoey, “read other’s weaknesses.”
Had she been Mitchell’s weakness? A lump formed in her throat. He wouldn’t have been undercover with her at Sigma if she hadn’t been so damn dedicated to her mission, to overthrowing the Vampire Council.
“What do you think, Zoey?” Demetrius asked.
She met Stryke’s violet gaze. The black flecks within seemed to move, sometimes slow and mesmerizing, sometimes fast and frantic, like now. He was worried about what she’d say.
She wished she could lie, but it’d do them no good. “I think it’s plausible.”
“He helped Fyra, after he turned her into Rancor,” Bishop growled.
The text. Zoey had puzzled over why she’d been notified that Fyra was in danger from one of the Circle. And there was no denying the feeling of being…pursued wasn’t the right word. Anticipation? Like someone was coming for her, monitoring her activities. Now that Stryke was here, she no longer had the sensation.
Demetrius holstered his firearm, but his movements were far from relaxed. “He’s been feeding us breadcrumbs, but it’s been for his own purposes.”
“My only focus has been Zoey’s safety. Has been since I met her.”
Her brows rose, along with her teams’. Stryke had just admitted she was all he cared about. Hell of a thing.
A tap on the other side of the door interrupted them.
“He-ey,” Fyra called from the other side. “Is this a bad time?”
Without waiting for an answer, she strolled out with an armload of black clothing, her flame-red hair stark against the lack of color.
“I know how weird you all are about nudity in this realm, so I brought my dear, dear fiend some sweats.” Fyra smiled at her play on words. “You boys seem to have these in surplus around here.” She handed her stash to Zoey to give to Stryke.
Humor played over Stryke’s lips, but the look in his eyes was serious. He tossed the sweatshirt back to Fyra and stepped into the pants.
Zoey sucked in a breath. Through his thick, wavy, deep-brown hair, she hadn’t noticed his horns. Tucked into his hair, they sprouted just behind his hairline and curved around his head. Did they straighten? Could he fight with them? What did they feel like?
Hellfire, they should disgust her. They did the very opposite.
Stryke’s hot gaze met hers, as if he knew what she was thinking, or feeling at the very least.
She needed a drink—a shot of schnapps in her Gatorade.
Stryke straightened and crossed his arms, waiting.
Zoey looked to Demetrius. While they both sat on the TriSpecies Synod to rule their people, she deferred to him when it came to their team. He’d led from the beginning, and even after the Synod had requested—demanded—he take an advisory role, he was still their leader. Technically, she, too, had only an advisory role, but she couldn’t advise if she didn’t participate in the mission. At least that was the excuse she often used.
It was the most she’d toed any line. Her place as D’s second and her seat on the Synod had saved her from a slow death of depression and loneliness. She wouldn’t risk her place for anything, even a handsome demon and his supposed bond.
There were only two ways out of a bond. One was to bond to someone else, but her true mate had already come along and perished. The other was to kill Stryke.