Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “A glimpse of what?” she demanded.

  “You.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Are you kidding?” The emerald eyes widened. “You must know you’re like a goddess to my people.”

  Sally shivered, wrapping defensive arms around her waist. This whole new gig as the daughter of a Chatri was making her feel terrifyingly exposed.

  “Oh. I—” She licked her dry lips.

  Perhaps sensing she was on the point of bolting, the creature held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

  “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Troy, the Prince of Imps,” he murmured, a hint of wicked sensuality sparkling in the emerald eyes. “And you are Sally.”

  Troy? A portion of her unease faded. This was the imp that Levet had said could help them.

  “Did Roke invite you?”

  He rolled his eyes, clearly familiar with her mate.

  “It wasn’t precisely an invitation. He was less than pleased when you didn’t arrive in Chicago with him,” he said dryly. “He hoped I could help locate you.”

  Ah. She grimaced. She hadn’t actually considered Roke’s reaction when he’d arrived in Chicago only to find she was missing.

  His response had no doubt been . . . epic.

  The poor imp was lucky he was still in one piece.

  “I can imagine.” She wrinkled her nose. “I should probably apologize for him. Roke can be—”

  “Rude, bad tempered, impossibly arrogant?” Troy helpfully supplied.

  She smiled with rueful humor. “All of the above.”

  Troy waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no need for an apology. I’m accustomed to leeches. They’re all the same.” The emerald gaze swept over her pale face with an unnerving intensity. “And to be honest, I wouldn’t have missed this no matter how annoying my companions might be. It’s . . .” He sucked in a deep breath, his expression bemused. “Remarkable.”

  Her unease returned. “What is?”

  “Your power feels like lightning dancing over me. It’s intoxicating.” Troy closed his eyes, shivering with blatant pleasure. “I understand why my ancestors would have worshiped you.”

  Crap. If she’d been any other woman she’d probably be delighted by the thought of being royalty or even a virtual goddess. Who didn’t want to be treated as if she were something special?

  But she wasn’t any other woman.

  She was Sally Grace.

  The girl who’d survived by being invisible.

  “Please don’t say stuff like that,” she muttered.

  Genuine regret touched the imp’s lean, too-pretty features. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not used to . . .” She gave a helpless shrug. “Attention.”

  Troy tilted his head to the side, the crimson braids brushing over his broad shoulders.

  “Unfortunate considering you’re going to be attracting every fey in the area,” he murmured, glancing toward the high, arched windows that framed the double doors. “They’re already starting to surround the estate.”

  “Hell.” She shivered, considering the very real possibility of returning to her room and barricading the door. Cowardly? Maybe. Okay. Definitely. She heaved a sigh. A damned shame it wasn’t a viable option. “I never wanted this.”

  Troy offered a rueful smile. “You’ll eventually settle into your powers and they won’t be so loudly broadcasted. Until then the vampires will keep all but the most persistent away.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t hide here waiting for my powers to settle.”

  Troy blinked, seemingly surprised that she didn’t intend to cower behind Styx’s layers of security.

  “You have someplace you need to be?”

  She hesitated, remembering Sariel’s anger when he’d realized that the box he’d bound to her was no longer a secret. He clearly didn’t want people knowing that he was trapped.

  Then, she gave a shrug.

  What did it matter how many knew of his imprisonment if she couldn’t figure out how to rescue him?

  And Troy, the Prince of Imps, could provide her with far more information than any book she might be able to find in Styx’s library.

  Holding the emerald gaze, she confessed the truth.

  “My father is being held captive. I need to help him.”

  “Captive?” Shock rippled over the pale face before Troy was abruptly narrowing his emerald gaze. “Wait. Does Roke know about this?”

  She tilted her chin, her deeply entrenched sense of independence instantly outraged by the question.

  “Roke is my mate, not my keeper.”

  Troy snorted. “He’s a vampire.”

  “Yeah, I had noticed.”

  He studied her stubborn expression before giving a slow nod of his head.

  “Very well,” he said, his tone implying she was playing with fire. Something she didn’t need pointed out. “Do you know where your father is?”

  “No.” She held up the box. “This is supposed to lead me to him.”

  Troy stilled, his gaze attached to the box that shimmered with magic.

  “May I approach?” His voice was low, reverent.

  She gave a nod. “Yes.”

  With slow steps, Troy crossed the marble floor, halting when he was a few inches from her.

  “I’ve never been near a defaro when it’s connected to a Chatri,” he murmured.

  Defaro. Sally frowned, her fingers unconsciously stroking the box.

  “Is that what this is called?”

  “Yes. I have several in my collection.”

  Her lips twisted into a rueful smile, wondering if fate had crossed her path with Troy just when she needed him, or if her father had somehow manipulated her yet again.

  And did it matter?

  She pushed aside the niggling worry to brood on later.

  “Can you read the glyphs?”

  “Only a few.” Troy lifted his head to meet her steady gaze. “Why?”

  “I need to figure out how to decipher the map,” she said. “Until then I can’t do anything to help my father.”

  “You don’t need to read the glyphs to follow the map.”

  She glanced at the box, searching for something besides the glyphs that might be a map.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The glyphs will lead you in the right direction without being able to read them.”

  She made a sound of irritation, holding the box toward the imp.

  “Show me.”

  Troy held a slender hand over the box, careful not to touch the wood that glowed with her father’s power. Leaning down he spoke a foreign word that resonated deep inside her.

  The box grew warm in her hand and Troy stepped back. “Keep your eye on the glyphs and walk across the room,” he said, waiting until she’d reached the double doors before speaking again. “Now this way.”

  She walked back toward the imp, her breath catching as she turned the box over to discover one corner had changed colors.

  “This glyph is glowing brighter.”

  “Northwest,” Troy said. “It’s leading you in the right direction.”

  Sally frowned. “So it’s like a game of hot-hot-cold?”

  Troy blinked. “I never thought about it like that, but yes, it’s similar.”

  “That doesn’t seem very efficient,” she muttered. “Why not draw a map like a normal person?”

  “Security.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Glowing glyphs don’t seem particularly secure.”

  “They only glow when you’re holding the box,” Troy explained, reaching to gently take the box from her hand. “Watch.”

  The second her hand left the box, the glyph returned to its previous color.

  “Oh.” She reached to take back the box, too distracted to notice the sudden drop in the temperature. “So I just wander around the countryside following the glowing box?”

  “No. Way. In. Hell,” a familiar voice warned as Roke stepped into the foyer.


  Roke knew he was handling Sally all wrong. It didn’t take a genius to know that the one certain way to make her do what he didn’t want her to do was to tell her she couldn’t do it.

  But dammit, she was making him nuts.

  Why would she even think about trying to help a father who considered her nothing more than a means to his escape?

  And that’s exactly what she was plotting.

  Why else would she be with the damned imp learning how to use the map on her box?

  Moving forward, he pointed a finger at Troy. “Leave us,” he growled.

  The imp gave a toss of his crimson braids, but blowing a kiss in his direction, he turned to sashay down the hallway.

  With a sound of disgust, Roke moved to stand in front of his mate, matching her glare for glare.

  “Are you having fun tossing around your orders?” she demanded.

  “Not particularly.” He reached to touch her cheek, hiding a rueful smile at the scent of scorched peaches that filled the air. “Have you had dinner?”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she snapped.

  He leaned until they were nose to nose. “The only subject I care about is why you’re so determined to put yourself in danger.”

  She stepped back, a mutinous frown pulling her brows together.

  “I can’t just pretend my only family isn’t being held prisoner and that he needs me.”

  His fingers slid beneath her chin as he held her wary gaze. “I’m your family.”

  “Only because I forced a mating on you.”

  “No.” He pressed his thumb to her lips, angered by her insistence on dwelling on how the mating had started. It was meaningless. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “It isn’t. This . . .” His lips twisted as he struggled to find the word that expressed his volatile reaction when he’d first caught sight of her in Styx’s dungeon. “Attraction between us started before we mated.”

  She shook her head, but he didn’t miss the abrupt sizzle of awareness that heated their bond.

  She recalled their first meeting as vividly as he did.

  “You didn’t even know me,” she tried to protest. “I was a prisoner that you resented even being near.”

  His thumb stroked her bottom lip. “It’s true I resented you, but not for the reason you think.”

  “You didn’t want to babysit a witch.”

  His lips twisted. That’s what he’d told himself. And anyone else who would listen.

  He was supposed to be impervious to his emotions.

  “The minute I caught sight of you, I was captivated.”

  She made a sound of disbelief. “You were a complete jackass.”

  “True.” He could hardly deny his fierce attempt to reject what was happening to him. “I spent several centuries convinced I’d purged my baser instincts. It was an unpleasant shock to have that belief shattered by a tiny scrap of a female with a smartass mouth and enough power to turn me into a newt.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t sound captivated.”

  “I couldn’t get you out of my thoughts no matter how I tried,” he continued, his brooding gaze sweeping over her delicate features. That beautiful face had been seared into his brain the moment he’d caught sight of her, tormenting him with a craving to possess her that refused to leave him in peace. “And when I found that damn fairy bringing you a tray of food I nearly ripped out his throat. No one was allowed to take care of your needs but me.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I knew I was in trouble from the start, but I couldn’t stay away.”

  A hint of yearning softened her dark eyes, as if longing to believe his confession. And then, abruptly, she was giving a shake of her head, clearly preparing to change the subject.

  “Roke . . .”

  He swooped down to plunder her mouth with a kiss that stole her words. Her hands instinctively lifted to clutch his shoulders, her lips parting in astonishment. Only when he felt her tremble in answering need did he reluctantly lift his head to study her flushed cheeks.

  “That’s better.”

  “What are you doing?” she husked.

  “You’re going to say something I don’t want to hear,” he confessed.

  She made a choked sound. “And you think kissing me is going to stop me from saying it?”

  His gaze lingered on her soft lips, his body reacting with predictable enthusiasm to having her near.

  “I was hoping for a distraction.”

  She jutted her chin to a stubborn angle. “That’s not going to change my mind.”

  His hand cupped her cheek. “What will?”

  “Roke, I have to do this.”

  He growled deep in his throat, frustration slamming through him.

  “I still don’t understand why,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  She met his smoldering gaze, silently pleading with him to understand.

  “You’re not happy with Zoe, right?”

  He went rigid at the mere mention of his former clanswoman. “If she has any sense of self-preservation she’ll be careful not to cross my path,” he snarled.

  “But if she was in danger you would rush to her rescue, wouldn’t you?”

  His frustration amped up another notch, cracking the marble floor beneath their feet.

  “It’s not the same,” he mulishly insisted. “Zoe has been a part of my clan for a very long time.”

  “She is your duty,” she insisted. “Just as my father is my duty.”

  He was shaking his head before she finished. “You don’t even know for sure he’s your father.”

  She blinked, as if startled by his words. “Why would he lie?”

  “This could be a trap.”

  Her hand lifted to lightly touch his cheek. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  He rolled his eyes toward the heavens, knowing he was once again defeated by a tiny female witch with velvet brown eyes and an annoying habit of twisting him around her little finger.

  “Shit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Seated behind his desk, the King of Vampires tapped an impatient finger on the glossy surface.

  “I don’t like this,” he muttered, his gaze tracking Roke as he paced from one end of the priceless carpet to the other.

  Roke curled his hands into tight fists. He’d left Sally less than a quarter hour ago, unable to sway her stubborn determination to go in search of her father.

  “I can’t say I’m particularly happy about it either, but Sally refuses to listen to reason,” he admitted, wondering if this was fate’s way of laughing at him for assuming he could choose a meek, easily trainable mate.

  Styx gave a resigned shake of his head. “She’s a woman on a mission.”

  “A ridiculous mission.”

  Styx winced. “You didn’t tell her that, did you?”

  Roke continued his pacing, grimacing at the memory of his mate’s angry response to his attempt to dissuade her from charging into danger.

  “Not in so many words,” he muttered.

  “Ah.” There was a wealth of censure in Styx’s voice. “A tactical mistake, amigo.”

  Roke sent his king a glare. “Thanks, but your words of wisdom come a little late.”

  “Do you want me to lock her up?”

  His lips twisted in a humorless smile. He was desperate, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to try to physically restrain Sally. Each time she’d been caged, it had destroyed something inside her.

  Besides, he knew that she wasn’t entirely wrong.

  Something was going to have to be done to get the Nebule off her trail.

  “Yeah, because that worked out so well the last time,” he pointed out dryly.

  Styx shrugged. “Just a suggestion.”

  “Would you lock Darcy up?”

  “I tried once.”

  Roke came to an astonished halt, regarding his companion in disbelief.

  Darcy might be a peace-loving vegetarian, b
ut she was also a pureblooded Were who could do some serious damage when she was pissed.

  “What happened?”

  Styx pulled back his lips to expose his massive fangs, his hands landing on the desk as if he was being tormented by an unpleasant memory.

  “She slipped away and damned near became the Queen of Weres instead of vampires.”

  Roke grimaced. Thank the gods he hadn’t been around when Darcy had disappeared on Styx. The resulting meltdown had no doubt been the stuff of nightmares.

  Turning his thoughts back to his mate, Roke gave a fatalistic lift of his shoulder. There was nothing he could do but accept the inevitable.

  “I can’t stop Sally. I can only try to protect her.”

  Styx nodded, slowly rising to his feet. “How can I help?”

  Roke considered for a minute. There was no point in taking any of his brothers on his journey. The Nebule not only had his nasty poison darts that could kill a vampire, but Brandel’s ability to turn into mist meant that they were virtually worthless in a battle against the creature.

  How did you kill mist?

  “You could encourage the Oracles to step up their search for Brandel,” he suggested, not surprised when Styx grimaced.

  No one wanted to deal with the Commission.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Roke nodded. It was all he could hope for.

  “Cyn has promised to discover how we can kill him, but until then we’ll be vulnerable if he attacks.”

  “What about the fey?” Styx asked. “It’s going to be difficult to sneak around when you have a parade of fairies following your every footstep.”

  It was a problem that Roke had already considered. Beyond all the attention the fey would attract, he wasn’t in the mood to trip over a sprite or nymph every time he turned around. Besides, the adoring groupies were truly freaking out poor Sally.

  “Troy is supposed to be spreading the word that Sally is to be left in peace until further notice,” he said.

  “You trust an imp?”

  “I don’t trust anyone, but he’s at least cleared away the horde that was surrounding your lair.”

  “Troy did that?” Styx glanced toward the window, a wry smile curling his lips. “And here I thought my fearsome reputation had been responsible for their flight.”

  Roke grunted. “Not even the threat of your anger could dislodge them. The creatures are nothing if not tenacious.”