GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  Not all her hungers had been satisfied.

  And the violent urge to sink her fangs into his neck was all but irresistible.

  With a hiss, she placed her hands against his chest, yanking her head back to meet his brooding gaze.

  “Don’t,” he warned.

  She scowled at his commanding tone. “Don’t what?” “Try to squirm away from me.”

  “Are you always such a bossy lover?”

  “Yes,” he admitted without apology. Typical. “Are you always so eager to leave your lover’s arms?”

  Jaelyn shivered. Lovers.

  Grimly she forced herself to ignore the possessive glow in his bronze eyes and the delicious sensation of his warm flesh still buried deep inside her.

  She wouldn’t compound her stupidity by wishing that things could be different.

  Even if he weren’t her current assignment, her position as a Hunter meant she couldn’t take a long-term lover. And certainly she could never have a mate....

  She slammed the door before the dangerous thought could fully form. She soooo wasn’t going there.

  “Vampires don’t do cuddling,” she said, coating her voice in ice. “Sorry.”

  Anger tightened his exquisite features, but while he slowly pulled out of her body, his arms remained wrapped around her.

  “It’s more than an allergy to cuddling,” he accused. “You treat me like I carry the plague.” A mocking smile curved his lips. “At least when I’m not making you scream in pleasure.”

  She forced herself to meet his gaze, desperate to divert him.

  “I had an itch and you scratched it.” She shrugged. “What do you want? A trophy?”

  She’d intended her cutting words to bring an end to his questions. Didn’t men want their sexual encounters to be a no muss, no fuss deal? She was offering it to him on a platter.

  But of course, Ariyal refused to behave as he should.

  Aggravating ass.

  “I want the truth,” he growled. “Something that seems a foreign concept to you most of the time.”

  “I just told you... .”

  His hands moved to grasp her face, his expression grim. “Dammit, Jaelyn, enough games.”

  The scent of herbs filled the air as his power seared over her skin, but it wasn’t fear that shivered down her spine.

  She pressed her hands against his chest. “This isn’t a game.”

  “No, it isn’t. So stop jerking me around and give me a straight answer.” He resisted her halfhearted efforts to push him away. “Does it disgust you that I’m an evil Sylvermyst?”

  Disgust?

  Was the man mental?

  She’d just literally begged him to take her on a dusty table in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of freaking nowhere.

  Did that seem like the actions of a woman who was disgusted by him?

  She gave a sharp shake of her head, careful to keep her expression guarded.

  “You aren’t evil.”

  “That wasn’t what you said when I announced my intention to sacrifice the child before it could be used to resurrect the Dark Lord.”

  “I have no intention of allowing you to harm the babe, but wanting to protect your people isn’t evil.” She grimaced. “Believe me, I’ve seen the difference.”

  He scowled down at her. “Then why did you refuse to share your blood when I needed it?”

  Dammit, was he still on that? Why wouldn’t he let it be?

  “We have more important things to discuss,” she muttered.

  His hands tightened on her face as she tried to glance away.

  “No, I’m not going to be distracted,” he warned. “Tell me.”

  They glared at one another in silence. Then with gritted teeth Jaelyn at last lifted her hands to grasp his wrists and pulled his hands away from her face.

  “I was afraid what might happen,” she snapped, accepting that the stubborn Sylvermyst wouldn’t give up until he’d managed to drag the humiliating truth out of her.

  Predictably the annoying man didn’t appear at all pleased with her confession.

  “You didn’t trust me,” he said in flat tones.

  “I didn’t trust me,” she huffed. “Satisfied?”

  “No, I’m damn well not satisfied,” he snapped. “I don’t speak cryptic. What the hell are you talking about?”

  She studied the perfectly chiseled lines of his face, her heart squeezing as if it had been put in a vise.

  The Addonexus had done everything in their power to destroy her emotions. She was supposed to be a weapon, not a woman.

  And she’d assumed they had succeeded.

  Until this man.

  This beautiful, powerful, truly aggravating man.

  She didn’t know how or why, but he’d smashed through her defenses and threatened her in a way she didn’t fully understand but was smart enough to fear.

  “I couldn’t take the risk that the blade would bind us together,” she forced herself to admit.

  He glanced toward the sword that had been tossed on a wooden stool near the refrigerator.

  “The blade merely absorbs your energy, it doesn’t actually steal your soul, regardless of the rumors.”

  “Don’t be dense. I mean ...” She battled against a wave of embarrassment. Dammit. He was making her feel like an idiot. “Bind us. Forever.”

  “Obviously I am dense. How could a few drops of your blood on my blade bind us together?”

  “Because the blade transfers the blood to you.”

  “And?”

  “And it might very well be the same as if you took it directly from my vein.”

  “I’ve never heard that taking the blood of a vampire is binding. Not unless ...” He froze, the bronze eyes narrowing with disbelief. “Not unless they’re mates.”

  Ding, ding. Give the fairy a gold star.

  A vampire needed blood to survive. And it wasn’t unusual to take the vein of a lover during sex.

  But the exchanges were about body functions. Food and pleasure.

  Nothing that a wise vampire couldn’t walk away from without a backward glance.

  But for the rare few who found their true mate, the exchange of blood would entwine their souls.

  They would be irrevocably connected.

  Forever and ever and ever ...

  Unable to bear his piercing scrutiny, she gave him a sharp shove backward, slipping off the table before he could regain his balance.

  “We should be deciding what we intend to do next,” she reminded him in clipped tones, pulling on her clothes and belting her holster around her hips. “If you’ve healed I think we should concentrate on finding Tearloch and the child. We can worry about the cur who raised the zombies and his mystery friends later.”

  Without warning he grabbed her upper arm and swung her around to confront his probing gaze.

  “You’re babbling.”

  She stiffened, sternly ignoring his gloriously naked body. Now was not the time to be thinking of how good it felt to have him between her legs, his heat seeping deep inside her as he plunged....

  No.

  She gave a sharp shake of her head.

  “I do not babble,” she informed him, frost coating her words. “I was sharing a reasonable argument for a possible course of action.”

  “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 o
ut 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 int
end 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.”