When Darkness Ends

by Alexandra Ivy

  And without his fiancée.

  “What did Fallon want with Styx?”

  “She needed him to repair the vampire who’d been injured.”

  Tonya blinked in confusion. “Cyn was injured?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my God, is he okay?”

  Magnus sent her a glance of disgust. “Why should I care?”

  Tonya narrowed her gaze. “Hey, don’t be pissy with me. I didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m not pissy,” Magnus denied, his slender fingers toying with the emerald pendant hung around his neck. Tonya suspected it was an unconscious habit that revealed he wasn’t quite as composed as he wanted her to believe. “I’m quite justly aggrieved.”

  She shrugged. The two men were too alpha not to strike sparks off each other.

  “Styx isn’t happy unless he’s making someone feel aggrieved. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

  “I’m indifferent to the vampires.”

  “Of course you are.” She rolled her eyes. “Then what has you so aggrieved?”

  “My fiancée has broken our marriage contract.”

  Tonya stilled. A tangle of emotions twisted her stomach into a painful knot.

  “Oh,” she at last breathed. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

  “It’s extremely rare.” Magnus paced toward the fireplace, the scent of aged whiskey teasing at Tonya’s nose. “Only a fool would choose such an extreme path.”

  Tonya watched as he poured himself a glass of the nectar that had been left on the mantel to warm.

  He sounded so . . . cold. As if he didn’t care that the female he’d chosen as his wife had decided to remain with Cyn.

  “What do you mean by ‘extreme’?” she prodded.

  “She will be shunned by our people.” He finished the nectar and set aside the glass. “It is the worst fate a Chatri can suffer.”

  Tonya shuddered. She’d pissed off her father and brothers when she’d chosen to work for a vampire in a demon club, but they hadn’t actually shunned her.

  She just wasn’t invited to feast days.

  A sweet bonus as far as she was concerned.

  “What did she do to break the contract?”

  “She refused to return to our homeland.”

  Tonya waited for the rest of the story. And waited. At last she gave a shake of her head.

  “That’s it?”

  Magnus arched a brow, the firelight shimmering over his stunning hair. Even dressed in casual slacks and a green silk shirt, he managed to look unearthly. Ethereal.

  “I gave her a direct command.”

  Tonya’s petty jealousy toward the impossibly lovely princess was buried beneath a surge of outrage. She moved forward, not halting until she had to tilt back her head to glare at the prince who stood there with such supreme indifference.

  “You . . . pig.”

  Magnus blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You’re allowing the woman you once intended to make your wife to be shunned because she didn’t obey your command?”

  “It’s her duty.”

  “While your duty is doing whatever the hell you want, including kissing me?” she accused.

  A sudden flush touched his cheeks, an emotion she couldn’t read flaring through the cognac eyes.

  “You didn’t object at the time.”

  Tonya grimaced at the direct hit.

  Of course she hadn’t objected. Hell, she’d been an eager participant, even though she’d known he belonged to another.

  Once again, she’d allowed her stupid hormones to overcome her common sense.

  Christ. What was it with her and being attracted to the wrong guys?

  Not only wrong, but completely inaccessible?

  No doubt a psychiatrist would tell her that it was simply a case of wanting what she couldn’t have.

  She thought it was a pain in the ass.

  “Because I was temporarily insane, you moron,” she snapped, lifting her fist to bang it against his chest.

  Scowling, he grasped her wrist, careful to keep from bruising her pale skin. “Why are you so angry?”

  Tonya had a dozen reasons.

  Most of them had to do with her unwanted attraction to an arrogant jackass who could treat his fiancée as if she were some disposable piece of property.

  “Why did she refuse to return with you?” she demanded.

  His lips curled in disdain. “She claimed that an Oracle had demanded her services, but it was obvious that she has developed feelings for the vampire.”

  “Oracle?” Tonya was momentarily distracted. “What Oracle?”

  “Ask your precious Anasso.”

  She frowned at the odd words. “He isn’t mine.”

  Magnus tightened his hand on her wrist, tugging her close enough that the heat of his body seared through her tiny, spandex dress.

  “You answer to him.”

  “Wrong,” she countered. “I answer to Viper, who pays the bills. Not all of us happen to be a princess.”

  He leaned down until they were nose to nose. “You are too outspoken.”

  “Tough shit.” She didn’t back down an inch. If he thought he could intimidate her, then he was in for a very big disappointment. She dealt with drunken trolls on a regular basis. “Why are you here?”

  “Where should I be?”

  She desperately tried to pretend that the stroke of his thumb against her inner wrist wasn’t sending arrows of pleasure darting through her body.

  She didn’t want to be so vulnerable to his touch.

  “You came to search for Fallon, didn’t you?”

  His gaze moved slowly over her face, at last stopping to study the full curve of her lips. “I did.”

  “Now you’ve found her.” She pointed out the obvious, not sure why she was pressing him. “Why don’t you return to your homeland?”

  His fingers skimmed up her bare arm, even as his expression tightened with annoyance. “You sound as if you’re trying to get rid of me.”

  An unexpected pain sliced through her heart at his words.

  No. Oh God, no.

  She wasn’t idiotic enough to want him to stay, was she?

  “Once you’re gone I can return to my real job,” she forced herself to say. “The club needs me.”

  His hand moved beneath her hair, cupping her nape with an oddly possessive grip. “And that’s the only reason?”

  She ignored the question. “Are you staying because you hope Fallon will change her mind?” she instead demanded.

  He frowned, as if confused by the implication he might be harboring a secret desire to reunite with his fiancée.

  “Change her mind?”

  “That she’ll return home with you.” Her lips twisted as she pretended she didn’t care what his answer would be. “Agree to become your obedient little wife?”

  There was no hesitation. “The contract is broken.”

  “A new contract could be written.” She carefully watched the impossibly beautiful face, searching for . . . what? Pain? Regret? Guilt? Relief? “If you truly want her as your wife.”

  “It’s done.”

  She made a sound of impatience. “And it doesn’t hurt?”

  “Why should it?”

  For some reason his flat tone pissed her off.

  “God. You’re a piece of work,” she muttered. “Did you care for the poor woman at all?”

  He held her gaze, his expression strangely knowing. “Would you prefer that I be suffering at the loss of my fiancée?”

  Tonya’s annoyance faltered. Did she want him to be pining for Fallon?

  Hell, no.

  In fact, if she was being honest, a part of her was fiercely happy he wasn’t brokenhearted.

  Still, she needed to know he was capable of feeling something.

  “I’m just trying to understand how you could be so indifferent.”

  His lips flattened. “Our engagement was not based on emotion. It was a means to improve the st
atus of our mutual Houses,” he grudgingly admitted. “We both understood our duty.”

  He was in full prince mode. Cold. Aloof. Committed to his social position.

  Tonya shivered. Why did she keep searching for some indication he was more than an arrogant snob?

  “So now you return to find another sacrificial lamb?”

  “Eventually.”

  It was exactly the response she’d expected, so why did she abruptly want to knee him in the nuts?

  “Why not now?” she asked through clenched teeth. “There’s nothing to keep you here.”

  Without warning the cognac eyes darkened and his fingers tangled in her hair so he could tilt back her head.

  Then, swooping downward, he claimed her lips in a kiss that demanded a response.

  Tonya trembled, a blast of sheer pleasure nearly sending her to her knees. God Almighty. She’d managed to provoke a response. But it wasn’t the one she expected.

  Drowning in the scent of whiskey, Tonya parted her lips, allowing him greater access. Their tongues tangled, his power wrapping around her like a blanket.

  For a crazed moment, Tonya forgot all the reasons she didn’t want this man.

  It didn’t matter that he was a ruthless prince who had recently condemned his fiancée to a painful shunning. Or that he was on the point of returning to his homeland to choose another to become his wife.

  When she was in his arms all that mattered was that she felt needed and beautiful and heart-meltingly cherished.

  He eased the demanding pressure of his mouth, giving her lower lip a sharp nip. “You don’t want me to leave.”

  “Of course I do,” she tried to bluff. “I told you . . .” The words were stolen as he covered her mouth with demanding lips. With a low groan she at last pulled her head back to study his flushed, impossibly beautiful face. She felt drunk on the excitement that bubbled through her like the finest nectar. “Why are you kissing me?”

  His expression was brooding as his hand skimmed down the curve of her spine, cupping her backside with an intimacy that stole her breath away.

  “I don’t have a damned clue.”

  Lost in one another, neither heard the door opening. It was at last the blast of icy air that had them turning to discover the Anasso watching them with obvious impatience.

  “Again?” Styx growled. “You two really need to get a room.”

  With a low hiss, Magnus was abruptly shoving her behind him, protecting her disheveled appearance from Styx’s all too perceptive gaze.

  “What do you want now, leech?” he snapped, a faint golden glow surrounding his body as his power kicked into overdrive.

  Tonya gasped as Magnus’s heat surrounded her in a protective shield.

  It was dangerously easy to underestimate this lethal Chatri.

  Styx scowled, but perhaps sensing that Magnus was at the point of snapping, he pulled back his own aggression, careful not to glance at Tonya as she peeked around the prince’s shoulder.

  “I need your help,” the Anasso said.

  Magnus made a sound of impatience. “What now?”

  “The imp is dead,” Styx said, his voice flat. “I need to know how the hell it happened.”

  Cyn was seated in a leather wing chair, absently stroking his charcoal pencil over the sketch pad that he held in his hands. At the same time, he was keeping a careful watch on Fallon as she restlessly paced the floor.

  Even dressed in jeans and a casual blue sweater, with her hair pulled into a haphazard ponytail, she managed to look stunningly beautiful.

  Of course, she’d been even more exquisite when she was lying naked in his arms, he ruefully concluded.

  Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to pretend that the world outside his lair didn’t exist, he couldn’t entirely ignore the imminent threat to demons. So while he’d wanted nothing more than to keep her in his bed, he’d grudgingly given in to duty. Well, first they had been in a long, delicious shower together, and then he’d insisted that she eat the dinner left in the kitchen by Lise.

  Only then did he bring her to the library to sort through the vast collection of books while he struggled to clear his mind and connect the dots.

  Dammit, there had to be a reason why this all felt so familiar.

  Sorting through a millennium of memories, Cyn was yanked out of his inner thoughts when Fallon came to an abrupt halt in the center of the priceless carpet.

  “Arrgh,” she breathed, glaring at him in exasperation.

  He hid his surge of amusement. It was becoming obvious that his soon-to-be mate wasn’t a scholar, despite her shrewd intelligence.

  She preferred far more interactive pastimes. Like scrying. Or...

  Hastily shoving aside the memory of Fallon’s thorough, agonizingly slow exploration of his body in the shower, he concentrated on her obvious frustration.

  The sooner they discovered what the hell was going on, the sooner he could have her in his bed.

  “Troubles, princess?” he asked.

  She held up the heavy leather-bound book she’d been reading. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

  He set aside his pencil, astonished at the sense of rightness he felt to see Fallon in his most private sanctuary.

  This room was the one place that he never allowed his guests to enter. Not only because it contained priceless manuscripts given to him by his foster father, but because this was the one place he could simply . . . be.

  No women, no games, no outrageous behavior that made him infamous throughout the vampire world.

  He’d never thought to willingly invite a woman into his refuge.

  Then again, Fallon wasn’t just a woman.

  She was his mate.

  The other half of his soul.

  “You’re supposed to be searching for a spell that closes dimensions,” he murmured, not surprised when she narrowed her eyes at his bland tone.

  “Half the time it doesn’t even say what is happening,” she groused, glancing down to read from the book that was dedicated to ancient nymph history. “‘A great and terrible darkness rose from the bowels of the earth to seek destruction upon the bright and shiny people,’” she quoted, giving a shake of her head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He shrugged. “The fey do have a love for melodrama.”

  She tossed aside the book, deliberately allowing her gaze to take a slow survey of his body that was casually sprawled in the chair.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sketching.”

  The amber eyes narrowed. “Aren’t we supposed to be searching for a way to save the world?”

  “I am.”

  “How?”

  “This helps me think.”

  She placed her hands on her hips, her expression revealing her disbelief.

  “Really?” Her eyes widened as he turned the sketch pad so she could see his work. “Oh.”

  She moved forward, taking the sketch pad from his hands to study the image of herself standing in front of a small cottage in a pretty dale.

  “Where is this place?” she asked.

  Cyn rose to his feet, reaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. “My foster parents’ home just a few miles south of here.” His heart gave a painful twist at the thought of the cottage being empty. Dammit, as soon as he found them he was going to have a long chat with them. “I’ll take you to visit as soon as they get back.”

  Her expression softened, as if she sensed the worry for his foster parents that gnawed at him.

  “They don’t live here?”

  “They visit, but they prefer their own space,” he said, taking the sketch pad from her and tossing it onto the chair. Grabbing her hands, he pressed her palms flat against his chest. He needed to feel the warmth of her skin seeping through his fisherman sweater. He’d always been more tactile than most vampires. No doubt a result of having been taken in by fairies. Now, however, his craving for touch was limited to this one particular female. “They said my
lair was too big.”

  Keeping one hand against his chest, she lifted the other to lightly tug on the narrow braid that lay against his cheek.

  “Are you sure it wasn’t the orgies that ran them off?”

  Ah. He knew jealousy when he heard it.

  He didn’t bother to hide his pleased smile.

  “You really are obsessed with those orgies.”

  Another tug on his braid. This one sharp enough to cause a prick of pain. “Do you deny them?”

  Cyn hesitated, choosing his words with care. He wasn’t ashamed of his past. He lived with an open lust for pleasure that was shared by those who moved in and out of his lair.

  Still, he didn’t ever want Fallon to think that she was one of a long line of lovers.

  “In the past I filled this lair with friends. And my clansmen are always welcome to stay,” he slowly admitted.

  “So it was like the . . .” She halted, clearly struggling for the words. “What was the name? Playboy Mansion?”

  “As I said.” He leaned down to place a kiss on top of her head, soaking in the scent of warm champagne. “The past.”

  “Why the past?” She absently pulled the braid through her fingers, her head lowered as if she was trying to pretend that his answer didn’t matter.

  Cyn cupped her chin, gently forcing her to meet his somber gaze. “You know why.”

  He heard her breath catch in her throat, her eyes darkening with a potent combination of fear and gut-deep yearning.

  Time halted as their gazes locked, both sensing the vast, unyielding bond that was slowly, irrevocably forming between them.

  For Cyn it was the natural progression of finding his mate.

  For Fallon . . . His lips twisted as panic rippled over her face.

  Clearly she wasn’t ready to accept the threads that were tying her to him on a fundamental level.

  With a skittish movement she was tugging free of his light grasp, her cheeks flushed as she tried to pretend her heart wasn’t thundering a hundred miles an hour.

  “Are you worried about your parents?”

  Wise enough not to press, Cyn gave a slow nod. “Yes. I wish they would have been honest with me. It was bad enough when I thought they’d taken off without saying good-bye.” He didn’t try to hide the edge in his voice. “Now I have no way of knowing whether they’re okay or not.”