Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “You’re so certain my choice won’t be sticking a stake in your heart?”

  He held her gaze as he cautiously lifted his hand to trace the curve of her lips.

  “We have to learn to trust each other,” he murmured. “It’s the only way we’re going to survive.”

  She gave a slow, hesitant nod, looking unbearably fragile in the darkness. Their earlier passion had exploded so fast there had been no time for thinking.

  Now she had to gather her courage to take control of their lovemaking.

  To take control of him.

  He swallowed a low groan.

  It was an oddly erotic thought.

  “Okay,” she at last managed to husk. “Don’t move.”

  Roke smiled at her command, folding his arms behind his head. Sally paused another moment, then with a fluid motion she pushed herself off the mattress, and before he could guess her intent, she was straddling his hips and gazing down at him with a tiny smile.

  Roke hissed in shock, clutching the quilt to prevent himself from grasping her hips and guiding her onto his aching cock.

  He was the one who invited her to take control.

  He wouldn’t take it away from her.

  Even if it killed him.

  Tiny quakes of pleasure shook his body and she narrowed her gaze.

  “I warned you . . . don’t move.”

  Roke hissed, his fingers nearly ripping through the quilt as she calmly reached for the hem of her satin nightgown and pulled it over her head. He didn’t need light to make out the perfect swell of her breasts crowned by rosy nipples or the narrow curve of her waist, or the smooth ivory of her skin.

  With a groan his hips thrust upward, rubbing his arousal against the thin strip of satin that was all that covered her moist core.

  “My beautiful witch.”

  “You once told me that Styx should throw away the keys to the dungeon and leave me for the wolves,” she murmured, her hands sliding beneath the lapels of the robe and tugging it off his body.

  His fangs were fully extended as her fingers explored his bared chest, circling his nipples before heading ever lower. It was the sweetest torture he had ever endured.

  “One of the dogs ever lay a hand on you and they’re dead,” he growled, his hands lifting to run up her bare thighs. “Hell, if any man touches you, they’re dead.”

  She rolled her eyes before slowly leaning forward to press her lips against his neck.

  “I don’t want any other man to touch me.” She found a sensitive spot at the base of his throat, tormenting him with tiny nibbles. “One mate is more than enough.”

  He arched his back as anticipation swelled through him. “It’s not that bad, is it? Mates can be useful on occasion.”

  “Really?” Her lips skimmed over his chest, her hair an erotic brush against his skin “And how are you useful?”

  “I have all sorts of talents,” he growled, his fingers slipping beneath the scrap of silk so he could rip off the underwear. “Shall I demonstrate?”

  “I don’t know.” She licked a beaded nipple. “I think it’s my turn to demonstrate.”

  He groaned as she deliberately allowed her breasts to rub against his chest.

  “Christ, you’re not going to need a stake to kill me.”

  With a low, throaty chuckle she began crawling down his body, her gaze fixed squarely on his straining erection.

  “I like this idea of being the one in control.”

  So did his cock.

  The bastard twitched and throbbed, as if silently pleading for her touch, even as he ruthlessly sought to keep himself from coming.

  One touch and he feared he would explode.

  “Do you want me to beg?”

  She slowly smiled, clearly pleased with her power over him. “The thought is tempting.”

  Oh hell. He’d created a monster.

  “You are tempting, my love,” he groaned. “I need to be inside you.”

  A smile curved her lips.

  No, not just a smile.

  A wholly wicked smile that spoke of ancient Eve and female enticement.

  “But I’m not done.”

  On the point of assuring her that he was going to be done if she didn’t hurry things along, Roke gave a strangled shout and nearly shot off the bed as Sally leaned down and licked him from balls to tip.

  Holy shit.

  She wasn’t a witch, she was a temptress.

  Swirling her tongue around the very tip of him, she gave him another leisurely lick before she at last parted her lips and took him into the warm wetness of her mouth.

  His hips elevated off the bed as she explored every straining inch of him, swiftly learning precisely what earned his most desperate groans.

  Finally he had to admit that he couldn’t take another second of her delectable torture.

  Already his balls were tight with the approaching climax. He wanted to be lodged deep inside her when he came.

  Reaching down, he grasped her arms and tugged her up to sprawl on top of him. She sighed as her legs fell on either side of his hips, the heat of her moist core pressed against his shaft.

  “Sally, I’m going out of mind,” he groaned, his fingers gliding up her inner thighs to stroke through her wet heat. “Put me out of my misery . . . please.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, her eyes filled with a confidence as she leaned forward that was as sweet as the soft kiss she pressed to his lips.

  There was no doubt to mar this precious moment.

  Only the joy of two people who belonged together.

  Stroking through her dampness, he located her tiny bundle of pleasure, teasing her until she was at last pleading for release.

  Then, angling her hips over his straining cock, he cupped her ass and with one smooth thrust he entered her.

  She gave a soft cry of pleasure and he caught her lower lip between his teeth, careful to keep his fangs from grazing her fragile flesh.

  It was true that they couldn’t know what would or wouldn’t make their mating permanent. But the one certain means for a vampire was the exchange of blood.

  He couldn’t risk accidentally taking her blood in the heat of the moment.

  Not until Sally had the opportunity to decide what she wanted from her future.

  Arching his hips off the bed, Roke drove himself even deeper, the intensity of the sensations almost overwhelming.

  “Roke,” Sally groaned, her tongue dipping between his fangs to tangle with his.

  His fingers dug into the softness of her backside. “Am I going too fast?”

  “It’s perfect,” she moaned. “So perfect.”

  “Do you feel me deep inside you?” he demanded.

  “I feel you . . . everywhere.” She pulled back, her eyes dark with astonishment. “I feel everything you feel.”

  “Because we’re mated.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, stroking in and out of her in a swift rhythm. “We’ve become one. Heart and soul.”

  “Roke.”

  She dipped her head downward, claiming his lips as Roke quickened his thrusts, his entire body surging toward a sense of completion that he never dreamed possible.

  Chapter Twelve

  There were few people or demons who were more familiar with the complex spiderweb of tunnels where the Oracles were staying than Styx.

  Before his mating to Darcy, he’d lived in them for several decades along with the previous Anasso.

  Which meant that he knew every secret passage and hidden nook.

  A knowledge he put to quick use less than an hour after he and Viper had arrived.

  Once they’d formally lodged their petition with a dour-faced Sota demon and been shown to their bleak caverns where they were supposed to wait for an opportunity to have their dispute heard by the Oracles, Styx had led them from the public chambers to the dank tunnels beneath.

  Stepping through the illusion of a seemingly solid stone wall, Styx pulled his large sword free of the sheath strapped to hi
s back.

  “Bring back old memories?” Viper demanded, ridiculously wearing black chinos and a white ruffled shirt with a brocade vest. His silver hair was braided, emphasizing the beauty of his elegant face, and the sword he carried looked like it should belong to a fencer, not a warrior.

  But only an idiot would believe that Viper wouldn’t have his heart carved out with a flick of his wrist.

  Styx, on the other hand, didn’t bother with subtlety.

  Leather, shitkickers, and plenty of snarly attitude.

  Simple.

  “Not so old,” he said, leaping over a large boulder that blocked their path. “Although it does seem like another lifetime.”

  Viper easily kept pace. “Who would have thought just a year later we’d both be mated and saviors of the world?”

  Styx snorted. “Be careful, Levet takes full credit for being savior of the world.”

  “He would,” Viper said dryly.

  Styx kept his attention on the widening tunnel, well aware there were cracks in the uneven walls where an enemy could hide.

  He wasn’t about to walk into an ambush.

  “I’ll gladly allow him to have the glory if it keeps him out of my hair.”

  Viper gave a short laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

  “Miracles happen.”

  “True,” Viper drawled. “You found a mate who hasn’t stabbed you with a stake.”

  “Yet,” Styx pointed out, an indulgent smile curving his lips.

  He wanted this business done so he could return to Darcy. The faster the better.

  They turned down another tunnel that ended in the appearance of a dead end. This time, however, when they stepped through the illusion there was an unmistakable scent of decay.

  “Viper,” he growled, coming to a sharp halt.

  His companion moved to stand beside him. “I smell it.”

  Styx wrinkled his nose. “Fairy.”

  “Dead fairy.”

  Styx nodded toward the nearby entrance to a small cavern. “Ready?”

  Viper shrugged. “Always.”

  Together they entered the cavern, discovering the fairy lying in the center of the smooth floor.

  Without a sound Viper was sprinting toward the far end of the cavern, searching behind the nooks and crannies that could hide the killer.

  Styx knelt beside the body, reaching out his fingers to touch the dead man’s throat as he made a physical inventory.

  Outwardly the fairy appeared unharmed. His long red hair was untangled, his pale skin unmarred, his lean body in one piece, and there wasn’t so much as a drop of blood on the traditional robes that were given to most petitioners.

  Rising to his feet, he watched Viper return.

  “Anything?” he demanded.

  The younger vampire gave a shake of his head. “No, whoever did this is long gone.”

  Styx glanced back down at the fairy. Most demon bodies disintegrated within a matter of hours, sometimes minutes. It was a necessary precaution to avoid detection by the humans.

  “Not long,” he corrected. “The fairy was killed less than an hour ago.”

  Reaching into his front pocket Styx pulled out a cell phone, relieved to discover it was fully functional. His powers had a tendency to destroy electronic devices.

  “What are you doing?” Viper asked as he punched in a number.

  “I have Jagr posted to keep watch on the entrance to the cave.” The leader of his Ravens answered on the first ring. “Report,” Styx barked.

  Viper stepped away as Styx listened to the clipped response, only returning when Styx returned the phone to his pocket.

  “Well?”

  “Three people entered the caves,” Styx repeated what he’d learned. “The two of us and a male fairy.”

  Viper arched a brow. “Which means the killer was already in the caves.” The clan chief abruptly stilled, clearly recalling his own visits to the caves when he’d been attempting to save the life of his mate. “Unless he used the secret entrance?”

  Styx shook his head, already having thought of the possibility.

  “I have them covered.”

  “And no one entered?”

  “No, but Jagr said that D’Angelo reported earlier that he spotted a cloaked figure leaving from a side tunnel.”

  “Did he track him?”

  Styx shrugged. “He tried, but a few miles from the caves the figure disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Viper grimaced. “Like poof?”

  “Yep.”

  They shared a mutual gaze of unease. Not only at the thought of demons able to transport from one place to another, which hardly seemed fair, but because it was obvious who was hidden beneath the cloak.

  “Siljar?” Viper muttered.

  “She’s at the top of my list,” Styx agreed, his voice pitched low enough to keep it from traveling.

  Making wild accusations while surrounded by the most powerful demons in the world seemed a dangerous proposition.

  Viper considered a long minute. “Why would she slip out and then disappear? She could have used her private rooms and no one would ever know she’d left.”

  A good point.

  Styx frowned, shuffling through the various reasons a demon would choose to leave the caves.

  “I assume translocating would demand the sort of power that would alert the other Oracles she was leaving,” he said, at last suggesting the most logical explanation.

  “True.” Viper sheathed his rapier. “Of course, it’s possible her disappearance might have nothing to do with the fairy’s death.”

  “Or just as likely it wasn’t Siljar at all,” Styx said, his own sword remaining clutched in his hands. He was still hoping for a chance to stick it into an enemy. If he had to be away from Darcy, then at least he should have the pleasure of a rousing fight. “Which leaves us with the need to discover who is missing.”

  Viper made a sound of disbelief. “Don’t look at me. I’m not going to do a roll call on the Oracles.”

  “Coward,” Styx mocked.

  “Damn straight,” Viper agreed without apology. “They scare the hell out of me.”

  Styx had to agree. “They scare the hell out of everyone.”

  “Then we do this the old-fashioned way.” Viper knelt beside the corpse. “Your senses are better suited to tracking,” he pointed out. “You check to see who came into the cave and I’ll try to figure out what killed the fairy.”

  Styx didn’t hesitate as he headed out of the cave.

  He might be the ultimate leader of vampires, but he wasn’t an anal ass who always had to be the one to give the orders.

  Viper was right. He was the better tracker while Viper had an eye for the finer details he easily overlooked.

  Concentrating on his surroundings, Styx made a thorough survey of the tunnels that led away from the cave, traveling until he met the main passageway before doubling back.

  Returning to Viper, he waited for the younger vampire to finish his inspection and rise to his feet.

  “Did you locate a track?” the younger vampire asked.

  Styx scowled. He was never afraid to face an enemy. He’d been in countless battles over the centuries.

  What he hated was puzzles.

  They always managed to bite him in the ass.

  “Too many,” he snarled.

  “There was more than one?”

  His displeasure dropped the temperature by several degrees. “There was one set of tracks and a dozen different scents.”

  Viper predictably scowled in confusion. “How’s that possible?”

  Styx clenched his jaw. He’d encountered demons capable of disguising their scent. Or even altering it to throw off a hunter. But he’d never heard of a demon who could smell like a different creature at the same time.

  “It isn’t.” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “What did you learn?”

  Viper glanced back at the dead fairy. “About as much as you, unfortunately,” he admi
tted. “There’s no obvious wounds, there’s no blood missing and, as far as I can tell, the major organs are still intact.”

  “No signs of a struggle?”

  Viper shook his head. “It’s almost as if he just lay down and died.”

  Styx muttered a curse. There was nothing more they could do.

  It was time to turn the information over to someone who might be able to determine what happened.

  “I think we’ve learned all we can here,” he muttered. “Let’s get out before the killer realizes we discovered the body.”

  Viper led the way out of the cave. “This isn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.”

  Styx rolled his eyes. “It never is.”

  Sally lay on her side with Roke spooned behind her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and his face buried in her tangle of hair.

  She felt . . . shattered.

  Not just by the explosive bliss Roke had given her, although that had been enough to leave any poor woman dazed and confused.

  But from the sheer intimacy of their connection.

  Real or not, the mating had allowed the very essence of Roke to become embedded in her soul. She’d experienced his fierce hunger for her touch. His overwhelming delight in her simplest caress. And most terrifying of all, the unwavering devotion that fed his obsession to protect her.

  No one had ever truly cared for her.

  Even before her mother had discovered the truth of her tainted blood, the powerful witch had treated her as nothing more than a necessity. She was created to protect the world from an ancient vampire, nothing else.

  And certainly none of her fellow disciples of the Dark Lord gave a shit about her.

  She was an expendable commodity.

  Was it any wonder she was floundering? She was desperately trying to squash the urge to bask in the warmth of his emotions, but it was like offering a buffet to a starving man. Impossible to resist.

  Still, she wasn’t completely stupid.

  This wasn’t destined to be a happily ever after and whoever said it was better “to have love and lost” was full of bullshit.

  She’d endured rejection, betrayal, and actual torture, but she’d refused to be crushed by what life threw at her.

  Now a voice was whispering that losing Roke might very well be her Kryptonite.