When Darkness Ends

by Alexandra Ivy

  Styx heard the female make a startled sound of irritation, but his only concern was for the vampire who remained dangerously weak.

  “You must feed. Fallon has agreed to offer her vein.”

  Once again Styx was caught off guard as Cyn’s fingers dug into his arm. “No.”

  What the hell? He allowed a growl to rumble deep in his chest.

  “Don’t be an idiot. You need blood.”

  Cyn grimaced. “Not Fallon’s.”

  There was a low hiss before Fallon was headed toward the door, her body stiff with wounded dignity. Even if she’d been reluctant to offer her vein, it clearly pricked her pride that Cyn would refuse her gift.

  “Obviously the clan chief considers my blood unworthy. I’ll return with his preferred vintage,” she muttered. “I hope it chokes him.”

  Chapter Ten

  Cyn grimaced as Fallon slammed the door behind her retreating form. He knew he’d offended her. Again. But on this occasion he wasn’t sorry.

  Better have her pissed at him than suffering the potential fallout from him taking her vein.

  Styx glared down at him, his hard expression saying he thought Cyn had lost his mind.

  And he wasn’t wrong.

  His life had gone from a peaceful existence of glorious hedonism to chaotic frustration.

  From the second he’d seen Fallon, he’d been careening from one upheaval to another. But it wasn’t being a pawn for a powerful Oracle that had his nerves scraped raw.

  That little achievement belonged solely to the Chatri princess.

  So why hadn’t he followed the urgings of his logical mind that had warned him to avoid the female? As she’d pointed out more than once, his lair was big enough to make sure they could go weeks without running into each other.

  Because you haven’t been able to resist the primitive need to seek her out, a voice in the back of his head whispered.

  And every passing minute in her presence had only made matters worse.

  He’d gone from fascinated to obsessed to desperate. Bloody hell, he needed to have her naked in his arms, his fangs buried deep in her throat as he felt her climaxing around his erection.

  That was precisely why he’d slammed the door on any risk of making his compulsion a permanent part of his life.

  “Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Styx demanded. “Her blood is—”

  “Dangerous,” Cyn interrupted.

  The Anasso blinked. “Because she’s a Chatri?”

  “Because she’s a female I find far too tempting.”

  “Ah.” Immediately understanding why Cyn was reluctant to exchange blood with a female who could be his potential mate, Styx’s expression altered from annoyance to curiosity. “Tell me what happened.”

  Cyn planted his hands on the floor and forced himself to a seated position despite Styx’s protest. He was still weak, but he’d be damned if he remained lying on the floor like he was some invalid.

  “Siljar isn’t going to be pleased if I share.”

  “Too damned bad.” Styx’s tone revealed his current opinion of the Oracle. “I’m tired of her expecting vampires to clean up the Commission’s mistakes.”

  Cyn hesitated, then with a small shrug he offered a condensed version of what had happened since arriving back at his lair.

  By the time he finished, Styx had surged to his feet and was pacing the room with a growing restlessness.

  “A spell to close dimensions?” the Anasso growled, the lights flickering as his power threatened to fry the electrical system that Cyn had spent a fortune to install. “That’s—”

  “Crazy?” Cyn offered, his smile wry. “Welcome to my world.”

  Styx continued to pace, his displeasure a tangible force in the air. “And also vaguely familiar,” he finally muttered.

  “What do you mean?”

  Styx came to an abrupt halt. “There’s something about this whole situation that gives me an itchy sense of déjà vu.”

  Cyn felt a strange chill shoot down his spine. Styx was right. He couldn’t pinpoint why this felt so freakishly familiar, but suddenly he was certain that he’d either heard or read or been told of another spell that offered a similar annihilation.

  “Aye. I know what you mean.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. The icy sense of premonition had settled like a heavy ball of dread in the pit of his stomach. “I need to return to the library. Maybe there’s something in the history of the fey that can help us.”

  There was the crisp scent of champagne before Fallon shoved open the door and stepped inside. Her chin was still tilted to a militant angle as she crossed the room and dropped two bags of blood onto his lap.

  “Here.”

  He offered her a rueful smile. Hard to believe that he’d once considered himself an expert in pleasing a woman.

  “Thanks.”

  She sniffed, spinning as if prepared to head back out the door. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  “Wait,” Styx commanded.

  She hesitated, her rigid body revealing she desperately wanted to tell the King of Vampires to go to hell. But, of course, she didn’t. She’d been trained to play the gracious lady. Only Cyn was allowed to see the fiercely independent woman beneath the glossy façade.

  The knowledge of that sent a blaze of satisfaction through him.

  Turning back, she met Styx’s dark gaze with a wary expression. “Yes?”

  Styx pointed toward the bowls that continued to flicker with a dozen separate images. “I don’t claim to be an expert on scrying, but I’ve never heard of anyone being able to use them as a weapon.”

  She wrapped her hands around her waist, as if assuming Styx was blaming her for the attack on Cyn.

  “Neither have I,” she snapped. “Certainly no human should have the power to connect to my magic.”

  Styx studied her with a gaze that could make grown men piss their pants. “You’re certain he wasn’t fey?”

  “Ask the clan chief.” She shot Cyn a dark glare. “He’s the one who was convinced the attacker was a human male.”

  Having drained the two bags of blood, Cyn rose to his feet, relieved when his legs held his weight. His strength was rapidly returning, but he wasn’t fully recovered. That bastard magic-user. He was going to pay for attacking him.

  For now, however, his only concern was mending the breech with Fallon.

  Stepping forward, he took her hands in his, gazing down at her wounded eyes. “Truce, princess,” he murmured softly. “I promise you can tell me what a huge jackass I am later.”

  Her lips pursed, but seeming to realize she was overreacting to his refusal to take her blood, she heaved a resigned sigh.

  “Fine,” she muttered. “Jackass.”

  Cyn hid his smile as he turned back to Styx, keeping one of Fallon’s hands tightly clenched in his.

  “He was a human,” he assured his Anasso, trying his best to recall what had happened before he’d been hit by the bolt of magic. “He looked like he was sneaking through the back tunnels of the Commission’s lair and then he halted as if he could sense us watching him. A second later . . . he hit me with his damn spell.”

  Styx scowled. Cyn knew his king well enough to realize the older vampire didn’t like mysteries. Or the Commission. Or strangers attacking his people.

  “Do you think he’s part of the conspiracy to close the dimensions?” Styx asked.

  “Aye,” Cyn swiftly answered. “It’s too much of a coincidence for him not to be involved.”

  Styx nodded. “Agreed.”

  Cyn grimaced. “The question now is how do we discover who he is?”

  “I’m more interested in how to protect you,” Styx said, his gaze moving to Fallon. “No more snooping on the Commission.”

  Cyn felt Fallon flinch at the direct command, but this time she didn’t allow her ingrained manners to overcome what she believed to be right.

  “That’s not your decision to make,” she informed the towering warrior
.

  Styx narrowed his gaze. “Are you trying to get Cyn killed?”

  Fallon refused to bend, but Cyn didn’t miss her tiny step closer to him. A step that pleased the hell out of him.

  “I’m trying to halt a looming genocide,” she said.

  “She’s right, Styx,” Cyn swiftly agreed. “As much as I want to put a halt to this, we can’t risk the Oracles being under the compulsion of some unknown enemy.”

  Styx studied them with a speculative expression, silently considering their options.

  It didn’t take long.

  They didn’t have enough information to do anything but follow Siljar’s orders. Not when they risked making matters worse.

  “What do you need from me?” Styx demanded.

  “For now . . .” Cyn forgot what he was going to say as the rich scent of aged whiskey threaded its way through the air. “What the hell?”

  “Magnus,” Fallon said, the word so low he barely heard it.

  “The fairy prince?” Cyn growled even as there was a weird prickle of energy that brushed over his skin.

  At the same time, a tall man with a long mane of shocking red hair appeared in the center of the room.

  “Chatri prince,” the stranger complained, glaring down the length of his noble nose. “It’s not difficult to remember.”

  Fury slammed into Cyn with unexpected force. This too-pretty man with his cognac eyes and arrogant expression was Fallon’s fiancé. The man who thought he had the right to claim the female at his side.

  Without warning, Cyn was lunging forward, intending to plant his fist in that perfect fairy face.

  “Cyn, no,” a voice snarled, as a massive pair of arms wrapped around him, holding him in place.

  Cyn grunted, struggling to break free of the painful bear hug. An impossible task. Even if he’d been at full strength.

  Trapped by the unmovable object known as Styx, Cyn was forced to content himself with glaring over the Anasso’s shoulder at the unwelcome intruder.

  “How the hell did you get in here?”

  The bastard calmly smoothed a hand down the sleeve of his jade silk shirt that he’d tucked into a pair of black slacks, pausing to pick an invisible piece of fluff from his sleeve.

  “I followed my fiancée’s imprint.”

  Fiancée? Oh hell, no.

  Cyn gave another furious attempt to break free. “What does that mean?”

  It was Fallon who answered. “A Chatri with royal blood can trace a portal created by another fey.”

  The pompous prince sent her a warning frown. “How I arrived is no business of the vampires.”

  “It is if you don’t want to become dinner,” Cyn warned.

  Magnus curled his lips. “You don’t frighten me, leech.”

  “Then you’re an idiot,” Cyn shot back.

  “Stop,” Styx commanded, turning his head to send Magnus a warning glare. “The penalty for trespassing in a vampire’s lair is death.”

  The prince held up a slender hand, a strange glow surrounding his fingers. “Just as the penalty for kidnapping a Chatri princess is death.”

  “No, Magnus.” Fallon took a sudden step forward, her face pale. “I wasn’t kidnapped.”

  Magnus never allowed his gaze to stray from the vampires. “Do not contradict me, female.”

  “She’ll do whatever the hell she wants to do,” Cyn barked.

  The cognac eyes narrowed. “She belongs to me.”

  No fucking way.

  A red mist exploded in his mind, short-circuiting any attempt to think.

  Instead it catapulted him into action.

  He was going to rip off that fairy head and . . .

  “God. Damn.” Styx spread his legs wide, his face tight with the effort of holding on to the crazed vampire. “Get him out of here before Cyn shows you just what happens when you piss off a berserker.”

  Fallon sucked in a sharp breath, trying to rid herself of the nasty sense of panic that she always felt when in the company of her fiancé.

  Magnus was never cruel. At least not physically.

  But he’d lived among the Chatri royalty who firmly believed that females were little more than property. He’d bought and paid for her; now he expected her to fulfill her role as the submissive, always-dutiful fiancée.

  He was the adored alpha male and she was nothing but another female expected to kneel at his feet.

  Unfortunately for both of them, Fallon had never truly accepted the part she was expected to play. And it was even worse now after being away from her homeland.

  Or maybe it is worse because you’ve been with a man who’s treated you as if you are more than a thing, a treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind. Even when they were fighting, Cyn made her feel as if she were an equal opponent. And when she’d been in his arms . . .

  With a smothered gasp, she hurried to grasp Magnus’s hand and tugged him out the door. This was no time to think about the shocking pleasure she’d felt when Cyn kissed her. Not when her fiancé was calling on his powers as if he intended to use them against the furious vampire that Styx was barely restraining.

  Good Lord. The violence in the air threatened to drown them all.

  “I need to speak with you,” she muttered.

  Once they reached the hallway, Magnus snatched his hand free, his eyes glowing with a frustrated anger.

  “We will speak once we have returned to our homeland.” His gaze flicked over her casual attire, his disdain obvious. “And after you’ve changed into proper attire.”

  Endless years of training had Fallon bending her head in apology; then, with a swell of long-suppressed defiance, she forced herself to meet the cold cognac gaze.

  She’d been brought to this world for a reason. And the attack on Cyn only stiffened her determination. The mysterious enemy now knew they had been spotted. It was very likely they would step up their pressure on the Commission to complete the spell.

  She had to discover who was responsible before it was too late.

  That duty was greater than any contract her father signed.

  “I can’t return,” she said, her voice low but steady.

  “You are my fiancée.” The words were cold, clipped. “You will do as I say.”

  His power beat against her, but Fallon squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated.

  “Not this time.”

  Magnus went rigid, his nose flaring. “You dare to defy me?”

  Was that what she was doing?

  Fallon gave a sad grimace, staring at the man who was supposed to be her life partner. She’d never been foolish enough to believe that he actually cared about her as a woman, but she assumed he would at least be concerned about her as an investment.

  “You haven’t even asked how I got here. Or if I’ve been harmed,” she pointed out, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Or if I want to return.”

  With a sharp motion Magnus turned to the side, almost as if he were trying to disguise his reaction to her soft chastisement.

  Which was ridiculous.

  The prince believed himself omnipotent. He couldn’t possibly feel guilt.

  “I see your short time in this world has already started to corrupt you.” He proved her point with his stark chastisement. “The sooner you are back in your father’s palace the better.”

  She heaved a sigh. “I told you that I can’t leave. The Oracles have commanded my service.”

  “The Commission has no authority over the Chatri.”

  “Maybe not.” Fallon had no knowledge of the hierarchy between her people and the Oracles. To be honest, she didn’t care. This was about saving lives, not playing political games. “The danger this world faces might eventually threaten our people as well.”

  He turned back with a frown. “What danger?”

  “I’m not allowed to say.”

  There was a silence, almost as if the prince was actually intrigued by her demand to stay. Then his expression was wiped clean, his inner
thoughts hidden by his mask of royal superiority.

  “I will not argue with you,” he informed her. “Either you return with me now or you can consider our marriage contract null and void.”

  Fallon was stunned. She’d expected him to be angry. To even try to bully her into returning with him.

  But never to end their contract.

  He’d bartered for years with Sariel to earn the right to marry her. His House had spent a fortune to celebrate their coming union, gloating in their elevated social status and inscribing Fallon onto their family tree with Magnus’s blood.

  They would be horrified to be publically demoted.

  Of course, their humiliation would be nothing compared to hers. A woman who was jilted by her fiancé not only lost the protection of her lover, but her own family. It was the ultimate insult.

  And all because she’d refused to obey his command?

  Surely not even Magnus could be so cruel?

  She studied his handsome face, noticing the way he refused to directly meet her gaze. He was hiding something from her. Something that was pushing him to cause this break between them.

  But what?

  She was the last princess that was unwed. There was no other female Chatri who could offer him more.

  “You”—she licked her dry lips, wondering if this was just an empty threat—“wouldn’t do that.”

  “The choice is yours.” There was no compromise. “Return with me now or risk becoming a pariah among your own people.”

  Fallon hesitated.

  She didn’t love this man. And the last thing she wanted was to be his wife. But the thought of being treated as an outcast for the rest of her life was horrifying.

  Was she truly willing to sacrifice her position, her reputation, and her father’s respect to help a world that wasn’t her home?

  For a heartbeat she wavered.

  It would be so easy to give in to Magnus’s demands. She could return home and live the life that had been expected of her. No fuss, no muss.

  And no happiness.

  Or she could stay and risk losing everything.

  Then she caught sight of Cyn standing as rigid as a statue in the doorway and her decision was made.

  “No.”

  The soft refusal hung in the air, seeming to pulse there before it shattered the fragile bond that had been forced between her and Magnus by a toxic combination of family and duty and pride.