Bound By Darkness (17 page)
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
“You were avoiding the subject.”
“Because I don’t want to discuss it. That should be obvious even to a stubborn, pigheaded Sylvermyst.”
“Too bad.”
Jaelyn hissed in shock as he abruptly scooped her off her feet and carried her across the room to the door leading to a small cellar dug beneath the house.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Lowering her to her feet, Ariyal slammed shut the the door and leaned against it, trapping them in the dark, musty space that was lined with shelves holding hundreds of glass jars coated in dust.
Obviously the previous housewife had been dedicated to canning and juicing and pickling everything that came out of her garden.
Ariyal folded his arms over his chest, his expression brooding.
“One of us is always walking out just when the conversation is getting interesting.”
She snorted. “You and I clearly have different definitions of interesting.”
“You don’t think it’s mildly interesting that I happen to be your mate?”
The cramped space seemed to shrink even further.
Talk about awkward moments.
“You’re not my mate.”
The bronze eyes blazed at her denial. Almost as if he was bothered by her stubborn refusal to admit their growing bond.
“That’s not what you implied a few minutes ago.”
She shrugged. “What I said was ...”
“Yes?”
She glanced toward the shelf of pickled ochre. Yeah, time to split hairs.
“I said I didn’t want to take the risk. You might drive me nuts, but I feel ...” What was the word? “Aware of you. Like we’re connected on some level I don’t even understand.”
“And you think ignoring the connection will make it go away.”
Bingo.
“That’s exactly what I think.”
“And I don’t have any say in the future of our relationship?”
She turned back to meet his scorching gaze, fiercely determined to hold her ground.
It wasn’t like she had a choice in any of this, did she?
“There is no relationship.”
“That’s not how it felt when you were begging me not to stop.”
She shifted, just the memory of being wrapped around this beautiful Sylvermyst sending a heat swirling through her chilled body.
“Sex,” she muttered, ignoring the fact that she would happily beg again given the opportunity.
“No.” He shook his head. “It was more than sex.”
“It can’t be.”
“Why not?”
She hissed in frustration. Weren’t men supposed to want a female who didn’t expect “happily ever after”?
Ariyal acted as if he wanted her to claim him as her mate. As if ...
No. She shook off the mere thought.
What was the point?
“Because I’m a Hunter.”
“And?”
“And we’re not allowed to mate.”
He studied her with a grim expression. “Never?”
“Never.”
“What happens?” He sharply pushed away from the door, moving to tower over her. “You get voted off the island?”
“No.” She tilted back her head, her expression equally grim. “There’s only one way out of the Addonexus.”
The bronzed eyes darkened with swift comprehension. “Death.”
“Death.”
Chapter 13
Santiago shuddered as the King of Weres’ power blasted through the air. The mangy mutt wasn’t pleased that a pack of traitors had managed to waltz through his wine cellars without his knowledge.
Dios.
He’d known Salvatore was the top dog, but he hadn’t realized just what that meant until this moment.
It wasn’t an entirely pleasant revelation.
Barely aware he was moving, Santiago positioned himself between the Were and Nefri. As if the insanely strong vampire needed his protection.
And why the hell would he protect her anyway?
It was a puzzle he easily dismissed as the Were gestured for his overgrown guard to step forward.
“Hess, question the guards,” he commanded. “I want to know if anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary over the past two weeks. I don’t care how meaningless it might have seemed at the time.”
The cur fell to his knees, his bald head pressed to the floor.
“Yes, sire.”
“And bring each of them down here.” A scowl marred the Were’s brow. “It might be that someone will recognize one of the scents.”
“At once.”
Scrambling with surprising haste considering his bulk, the cur was on his feet and darting toward the stairs leading to the mansion above.
“Does he fetch and roll over on command?” Santiago mocked.
Glowing golden eyes turned in his direction. “No, but he does kill unwanted intruders when I whistle. Do you want a demonstration?”
Santiago didn’t need one.
He was absolutely certain the cur killed on command.
Not that he was particularly concerned.
“He’s welcome to try,” he said with a shrug.
With that tiny sound of impatience that all women made when men were having fun, Nefri stepped around him to speak directly with Salvatore.
“Is there any way in or out of this room beyond this entrance?”
“No.” He lifted his hand as they both regarded him with suspicion. “I swear.”
Santiago wasn’t entirely convinced, but he turned his attention to the beautiful vampire, who was busy pacing from one end of the cellar to the other, her movements as graceful as a water sprite.
“What is it?” he at last demanded.
“I can sense the path of the prophet and her Were,” she explained, returning to stand at the entrance of the cell even as she waved a hand toward the hidden doorway where Salvatore and his goon had made their appearance. “They entered the basement through the tunnels. But I can find no indication of where their attackers came from.”
“They couldn’t have appeared out of thin air,” Santiago pointed out.
Salvatore snorted. “You did.”
Abruptly reminded that Nefri had indeed managed to bring them to the cellars out of thin air, Santiago grasped the female vampire’s arm and tugged her toward the center of the wine cellar.
He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could have a private conversation with a pureblood Were standing a few feet away, but he wanted to make clear that this was vampire business, and opinions from the Lassie-section weren’t welcome.
“Nefri?” he prompted as she stood lost in thought.
“Hmmm?”
His jaw clenched. “It’s obvious the mystery vampire has rare abilities.”
She shrugged. “I have no knowledge of a vampire capable of disguising his scent so thoroughly.”
“And what of a vampire capable of arriving in this cellar without leaving a trail?”
She didn’t need him to spell out the fact that curs and witches were incapable of popping from one place to another. Or that the only vampire capable of entering the cellar was one who possessed her own skills.
Her pale, exquisite features smoothed to an unreadable mask.
“It is a possibility I need to explore.”
“Explore?” Santiago tightened his grip on her arm, suddenly sensing he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was going. “Explore where?”
The dark, fathomless eyes gave nothing away.
“I must seek the Council of my Elders.”
Yep. He was right.
He didn’t like it. In fact, the mere thought of this woman disappearing to a place he couldn’t follow pissed him off.
“You’re returning behind the Veil?” he snapped.
“For now.”
“Do you think the vampire was a member of your clan?”
Her slender fingers reached to touch the medallion hung about her neck, her perfect calm only adding to his annoyance.
“It is only one of many possibilities.”
“I thought your precious people had evolved beyond the failings of us mere savages?”
There was a muffled cough before Salvatore was stepping to stand beside Nefri.
“This is beginning to feel like a party for two and I have more important things to do,” he murmured.
Santiago happily shared his annoyance with the Were. There was, after all, plenty to go around.
“What better things?” he demanded in suspicion.
The king’s suffocating power rushed through the room. “Not that I answer to you, bloodsucker, but I intend to take my pregnant mate to a more secure location.”
Santiago grimaced. Whatever his enjoyment in taunting the Were, he was as devoted as his Anasso to the precious babies that Harley carried.
Not only because she was the sister to his queen, but because children were a rare and wonderful gift among all demons, and most especially among the pureblooded Weres.
“She is always welcome with Styx and Darcy,” he offered. “There are few places more secure.”
Salvatore nodded. “That is no doubt where she will demand to be taken. I would prefer to return her to my lair in Italy, but Harley has a mind of her own.”
Santiago slid a covert glance toward the silent vampire at his side. “It used to be a woman knew her place.”
Salvatore gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah, and pigs used to fly,” he mocked, his own gaze shifting to Nefri. “When I’ve settled my mate, I want answers. Understood?”
She dipped her head in agreement despite Santiago’s suspicion that she could rip the Were into tiny pieces with terrifying ease.
With his point made, Salvatore turned to follow the cur’s exit path up the stairs, closing and locking the door above with an audible snap.
“Arrogant dog,” Santiago growled.
“I believe there is a saying about a pot calling a kettle black,” Nefri said in smooth tones, stepping away from his grasp with a determined motion.
She was going to try and escape without him.
Unacceptable.
But why?
Disliking the tiny voice that whispered he didn’t want to dig too deeply into his reasons, Santiago told himself that it was his distrust of those who vanished from this world that made him uneasy at allowing her to escape.
What if the vampire responsible for taking Cassandra was hiding behind the Veil? They would never find him. And they could hardly trust this woman to rat him out.
Everyone knew the Immortal Ones were a closed society that protected each other with fanatical dedication.
Yeah.
Only a fool would allow her to disappear.
“I’m not a dog and we haven’t finished our conversation,” he warned, barely resisting the urge to reach out and yank her into his arms.
“I was not aware we were having a conversation,” she countered, her low voice holding an edge of censure. “As I recall you were venting your disdain for those of us who chose to leave this world and I was ignoring you. A conversation is an exchange of ideas and information between individuals who respect one another.”
Santiago frowned. No one had dared lecture him since he’d been a foundling.
“You can’t just leave.”
“Actually I can.”
“We must share what we’ve discovered with Styx.” He latched on to the convenient excuse. “He has to be warned that there’s at least one vampire who has turned traitor.”
“You can do that without my presence.”
“He’ll have questions for you.”
Her brows lifted at his persistence. “I have no more answers than you do. If I do learn any new information then I will send word.”
“ No.”
Her brows lifted at his persistence. “I beg your pardon?”
Santiago shrugged. “My king commanded that I find Cassandra and right now you’re my best hope. I won’t fail him.”
She paused, studying him with a searching gaze. “He means so much to you?”
He did.
After Santiago had been abandoned by his maker, he had become a slave to those vampires more powerful than himself. There had been days when he truly thought he was living out his personal hell until Styx had found him and trained him to become one of Viper’s guards.
That had changed everything.
Suddenly he was no longer fair game for sex or sport or any other brutal pleasure that might amuse his latest master. He was treated with a dignity that had transformed him into a warrior who was never again at the mercy of another.
Santiago would never forget.
Never.
“Loyalty means that much to me,” he said, unwilling to share his deep connection to his Anasso. He liked his reputation as an unfeeling bastard. It had taken him years to earn. “It’s not something I offer only when it’s convenient.”
“Very noble.” There was a knowing glimmer in her dark eyes, as if she saw far more than he wanted. “I admire your devotion, but I must return to my brethren and ensure that we have not been betrayed.”
“Then I go with you.”
She looked as startled as he felt.
“Beyond the Veil?”
His resolve briefly faltered.
Of all the gin joints in all the world ...
Then his gaze skimmed over her pale, impossibly lovely face and he squared his shoulders.
Once she disappeared there would be no means to trace her.
“You can take me, can’t you?”
The dark eyes narrowed with undisguised suspicion. “I could.”
He forced a smile. “Then let’s do this thing.”
“Why should I?”
He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t you?”
“You have not bothered to hide your contempt for my people.” A hint of ice coated her words. “I will not allow you to disturb their peace.”
“Despite being a barbarian I was taught a few manners.”
“Were you?” She blinked in blatant disbelief. “Astonishing.”
“Do you want me to swear in blood I’ll behave myself ?”
Her gaze never wavered, studying him as if he was a strange specimen that she might or might not keep for further study.
Then a slow smile curved her lips.
“Actually that will not be necessary.”
Santiago felt his instincts stir. There was something about that beautiful smile.
Something dangerous.
“It won’t?”
“No.” The smile widened. “I am perfectly capable of making sure you behave.”
“Are you certain ...”
His words were ripped from his lips as she grasped his arm at the same moment that she squeezed the medallion. This time, however, the world didn’t dissolve with the creepy impression of simply melting away. Instead he felt as if he were being roughly jerked through a curtain of lightning.
Mierda.
Darkness surrounded them, the electricity dancing over his skin and his hair floating despite the lack of a breeze. His teeth snapped together to muffle his scream, his only reality the feel of Nefri’s slender fingers still gripping his arm.
What the hell had he gotten himself into now?
Tearloch knew he should be sleeping.
At the moment his loyal tribesmen were finishing their task of clearing the rubble that blocked the altar they needed to complete the ceremony. And the wizard continued to hold his spell of protection that surrounded the caves.
What better opportunity to give his weary body time to recover?
Instead he stood at the upper level of the caverns, glancing with a heartsick longing at the overgrown fields and the star-spattered sky he could glimpse beyond the opening.
The darkness called to him to run free as his people were meant to do ...
Being locked within the spiderweb of stark, unnaturally smooth passageways was like being buried alive.
There was a faint stir of air as Rafael entered the large cave. Tearloch didn’t bother to glance in his direction. The annoying spirit was no doubt there to remind Tearloch that he dared not venture out of the range of his damned spells.
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