Dammit, dammit, dammit.
She was going to get Roke killed if she didn’t get Sariel out of his prison.
“Father, finish this,” she hissed.
“Press your hands against the barrier,” he commanded, the glow around him becoming a blinding light as he slowly began to levitate off the ground.
Sally pushed her palms flat against the invisible wall, silently urging Sariel to hurry.
It was taking too long. Too long.
The vibrations that seemed to be the Nebule’s most lethal weapon was filling the portal, sending Roke to his knees and making Sally cry out as the destructive jolts of pain slammed into her.
Feeling blood trickle down her cheeks, she grimly kept her hands pressed to the barrier, averting her face against the brilliant light that threatened to sear her eyeballs.
The scent of fermenting wine filled the air as the barrier trembled beneath her hands. Then, with a blast that sent her tumbling backward, the wall shattered and the light blasted through the tunnel.
“At last,” her father said aloud, his voice triumphant as he allowed the light to fade and he revealed his physical form.
He was once again the godlike creature from the meadow.
His golden hair flowed over his shoulders, held back by the silver band that was no longer tarnished. His face was chiseled perfection and his amber eyes shimmered with shards of jade. Even his robe had returned to its flawless white satin.
With a low groan, Sally was on her feet and glancing toward her mate who had his arms wrapped around the Nebule as it continued to pummel him with waves of deadly vibrations.
“Roke.”
She started forward only to be halted when her father grabbed her shoulder.
“Do not be a fool. You’ve been weakened,” he chided, his voice so rich and compelling she had to battle against the urge to gaze at him in dazzled wonder. “The Nebule could hurt you.”
He was right, damn him.
She hadn’t even noticed how much energy Sariel had drained from her to destroy the barrier. Not until she realized her knees were threatening to buckle and her eyes weren’t entirely focused.
“Then help him,” she commanded.
“Why?” Sariel demanded in genuine confusion. “The Nebule can rid us of the pesky vampire and then I can put an end to the Nebule. Far more efficient.”
“I don’t want to be rid of the vampire,” she snapped. “If you won’t help, then I will.”
Meeting her death glare he gave an impatient click of his tongue. “Very well.” With a liquid grace, the Chatri moved forward, stepping around Roke as he directly confronted the Nebule. “Stay out my way, leech. Raith and I have unfinished business.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sariel reveled in his freedom as he moved forward, his power flowing through him.
For years he’d been held prisoner by the lowest scum of a demon.
Him. The King of the Chatri. The leader of the ancient fey who had been feared and respected by all.
It was a disgrace that he would be forced to bear for the rest of his very long life. But he could help to ease the shame by destroying the Nebule as slowly and painfully as possible.
“Stand aside, leech,” he commanded, his gaze locked on the bastard who’d dared to hold him captive. “Raith and I have unfinished business.”
The vampire peeled back his lips to reveal his fangs as Sariel swept past him.
“Happy to fucking meet you, too,” he growled, forcing himself back to his feet. “And you’re welcome.”
Sariel glanced over his shoulder. “For what?”
“For coming to your rescue.”
Sariel waved a dismissive hand. Did the leech actually expect him to appreciate his presence?
Absurd.
“I knew my daughter would come,” he said, forgetting the vampire as he turned to meet Raith’s horrified gaze.
“Daughter?” The creature shook his head. “That’s impossible. The Chatri have retreated from the world.”
Sariel eyed his enemy with cold anticipation. “I am the King of the Chatri. My blood can create gold out of dross.”
“But . . .” The Nebule hissed in sudden fury. “The witch.”
“Yes.” Sariel’s smug smile hid his initial shock when he’d first felt the witch’s spell that had reached even through the barrier.
Her desperation for a child had not only drawn his attention, but it’d given him the perfect solution to escaping from his prison.
If she wanted a baby, he would give her one.
A very special one.
The air trembled as Raith’s goat eyes smoldered with a slit of crimson.
“I should have tracked her down and killed her.”
“I knew in time your arrogance would be my eventual means for escape.”
Raith tried to covertly back away. Did he think Sariel would actually allow him to escape?
“You call me arrogant?”
“I call you a fool.” Sariel held up his hand, cold anticipation bubbling through him like the finest nectar. “Now you will pay.”
“No.” Holding out his hands, Raith went to his knees. “We can work out a bargain. I have acquired a fortune over the centuries.”
Sariel took satisfaction in the sight of his captor pleading for his life.
A pity he couldn’t take the creature to his homeland. It would be far more satisfying if he could prolong the Nebule’s torture for several centuries rather than a handful of minutes.
Unfortunately, the spells he’d woven around the entrance to the lands of the Chatri had been specifically created to kill a Nebule who dared to trespass.
“You have nothing I want,” he informed the pathetic demon.
“You don’t know that.” Raith paused, clearly trying to think of something that might tempt a Chatri. “I’ve collected priceless gems and magical artifacts,” he at last offered.
Sariel considered less than a heartbeat.
It was true that Chatri were addicted to collecting wealth. Only dragons could claim larger hoards of gems, precious metals, magical artifacts, and knowledge. And as king, his hoard was larger than any other.
The temptation to increase his wealth wasn’t something he would have dismissed so easily if he hadn’t been plotting for years to destroy this creature.
Focusing his power to a narrow band, he directed it to wrap around the kneeling demon. Like a lasso of light that seared into the Nebule with intense pain.
“All I want is your death.”
“Why?” The demon shuddered, his human form desperately trying to disintegrate to escape the searing magic. “It will give you nothing.”
“You’re mistaken.” Sariel smiled, taking full pleasure in watching the golden glow slicing through the spongy flesh of his tormentor. How many hours had he devoted to imagining this precise moment? Thousands and thousands. His smile widened as he deliberately allowed his magic to burn brighter, increasing the pain. “Killing you is a priceless treasure.”
Raith screamed until his voice came out in a hoarse plea. “What about your people?”
Sariel heard the sound of his daughter urging the vampire away from his power that was spilling through the portal. Not that he cared what happened to the leech.
It would be far better if he died at the same time as the Nebule.
“What about them?” he demanded, his tone revealing his lack of concern.
There was no means for the demon to hurt his people.
“I have them hidden,” the Nebule warned, his voice a mere thread of sound. “They will die if you kill me.”
Sariel frowned. Captured?
Abruptly he realized Raith was referring to the kidnapped fey that he and his partner kept in a holding pen somewhere in the portal.
He waved a dismissive hand. “They’re not my concern.”
“But . . .” The words were forgotten as another scream was wrenched from the Nebule, his flesh slowly melting beneath the heat of S
ariel’s magic.
With a ruthless precision honed over centuries of battles, Sariel amped up his magic notch by agonizing notch.
The Nebule pleaded and cursed and threatened until he could no longer speak. Instead he tumbled forward, his body twitching with a pain that was unimaginable.
Sariel allowed it to linger for nearly an hour, his fierce need for retribution only partially fulfilled when the creature abruptly burst into flames. Within seconds there was nothing left of Raith but a greasy pile of sludge.
Walking forward, he passed a hand over the blackened pile, wrapping a layer of magic over Raith that would prevent his people from collecting his remains and giving him a proper burial.
He might be dead, but his soul would remain trapped in this spot for all of eternity.
“I suppose that shall have to satisfy me,” he murmured, turning to find his daughter clutched in the arms of the vampire. “You killed his partner?”
She gave a wary nod. “Yes.”
“You make me proud,” he informed her, knowing that his words of praise would be worth more than the finest jewel to his offspring. “Only the most powerful Chatri could destroy a Nebule single-handedly.”
She frowned, not seeming to appreciate how rare and precious it was to receive his praise. Some of his people had devoted decades of labor just to earn a faint nod of approval from him.
“It wasn’t single-handed,” she protested, glancing toward the vampire.
“Fah.” Sariel sniffed. His daughter’s bond with the vampire was something he needed to break. The sooner the better. “A leech couldn’t be of assistance.”
The vampire flashed his fangs. “I really don’t like you, fey.”
Fey? He was Chatri.
Sariel squared his shoulders. “Trust me, the feeling is mutual.”
Sally continued to frown, seemingly impervious to the male sniping.
“What did he mean?” she abruptly asked.
Sariel turned his attention to her tense face. “Who?”
“The Nebule.”
“Ah.” He forgot the vampire. This was a proper response for a true Chatri. “You wish to claim his treasure?” He offered a gracious smile. “It is yours if you desire it. You have earned a reward.”
Her brows snapped together as if offended by his generous offer.
“No, I don’t care about treasure.”
Impatience flared through him. What was wrong with the female?
“Of course you care,” he told her. “You are my daughter. We are judged not only by our beauty, but by the wealth we have accumulated.”
She snorted, indifferent to his careful explanation. “Then I’m destined to be low man on the totem pole.”
“You have a totem pole?” he demanded in confusion.
She shook her head. “No. What I mean is that I don’t care how you judge me.”
Sariel stiffened. Among his people such a response could have the offending person thrown into the dungeons, if not killed outright.
“You’re tired so I forgive you for your heresy,” he said stiffly. “We should leave this place.”
The vampire tightened his arm around Sally’s shoulders. “That’s the first intelligent thing you said.”
Sally grimly dug in her heels. “What about the people the Nebule mentioned?”
Sariel arched a brow. “People?”
“He called them your people.”
“Oh.” Sariel shrugged. He’d already forgotten the Nebule’s desperate attempt to avoid his painful death. “Raith and his partner would capture a group of fey and keep them imprisoned until they could arrange an auction on their world.”
“Where are they?”
He gestured behind him. He’d heard the screams of the latest prisoners just before Sally’s timely arrival.
“Somewhere in the portal.”
“Can you find them?” she pressed, ignoring the glares of her vampire.
“If I wanted to.” He curled his lips. “Which I most emphatically do not.”
“Why not? You’re their king.”
He clicked his tongue, running his hands down the rare silk of his gown.
“I am King of the Chatri,” he corrected.
“And the fey are still your people,” she ridiculously insisted.
He peered down the length of his long nose. A gesture that would have sent most of his court scurrying in fear.
“I sense you have some expectation of me.”
Not only did his daughter not scurry, she stepped away from her vampire to stab him with an impatient glare.
“I want to find the fey and take them back to our world.”
Roke and Sariel spoke in unison.
“No!”
Sally planted her hands on her hips, refusing to be quelled by the two men who were studying her as if she’d gone nuts.
And maybe she had.
It wasn’t like she could explain why rescuing the fey was important.
They were, after all, mere strangers.
But over the past weeks, Roke had taught her that she could no longer hide.
Not from her enemies. Or the world.
Or even herself.
She didn’t know who she was becoming, but she wanted it to be someone who could be proud of the choices she made.
Someone who could walk down the street with her head lifted high, not cowering in the shadows.
“I’m not leaving without them,” she announced in stubborn tones.
“Sally.” Roke cupped his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her head to meet the stunning silver of his gaze. “I didn’t like your insistence on rescuing your father.”
“Understatement of the century,” she muttered.
His expression was grim as he no doubt battled the urge to toss her over his shoulder and force her to leave.
“But I understood that you felt it was your duty,” he continued.
“It was,” she agreed.
His thumb stroked the line of her jaw. “Now that you’ve done what was necessary, we have to get out of here.”
She wanted out of there as much as Roke and her father.
The swirling lights of the portal were making her dizzy and the weird smell of the smoldering Nebule remains was turning her stomach.
But she knew that if she gave in to Roke’s urgings, she would never forget that she’d sacrificed the lives of others because she couldn’t be bothered to save them.
“And leave behind innocents?” she asked, holding Roke’s gaze.
“You made sure that no more fey will be captured,” he rasped. “You’ve done enough.”
Her father couldn’t resist intruding into their conversation.
“As much as I hate to agree with the leech, he is right.”
She stepped around Roke to meet her father’s bored gaze. “So you intend to just abandon them to an eternity of being trapped in hell?”
He blinked at her unexpected attack. “It’s doubtful they will survive an eternity.”
“Good Lord,” she breathed. She was quickly discovering her father was a coldhearted narcissist who rarely considered anything but himself. Still, the knowledge he would easily abandon people who considered him a god was a breaking point as far as she was concerned. “Fine,” she rasped, moving before either man could react. “I’ll find them myself.”
She had taken less than two steps when Roke was at her side, his hand on her arm.
“Sally, you’re not thinking clearly,” he said, the words setting her teeth on edge.
She sent him a scowl. “Don’t tell me what I’m thinking.”
He growled in exasperation. “Why would you risk your life for a bunch of fey you don’t even know?”
“And if they were vampires?”
They both knew the answer.
Roke was a clan chief who was programmed to do whatever necessary to protect his people.
Not that he was going to concede defeat gracefully.
“Don’t do this,” he said in lo
w, urgent tones.
“Roke, you aren’t going to condemn those poor demons to a life of misery.” She lifted a hand to press it against his cool cheek. “It’s not who you are.”
He covered her fingers with his hand, his expression somber. “I would abandon everyone and everything if it meant protecting you.”
“Listen to your leech, my child,” her father urged. “The worth of the fey is negligible when compared to you.”
Sally made a sound of disbelief as Roke flashed his fangs toward Sariel.
“You’re not helping.”
The Chatri sniffed. “I speak the truth. We need to get her out of here.”
Sally narrowed her gaze. “Leave if you want, but I’m going to find the prisoners and free them.”
Brushing past a frustrated Roke, Sally headed down the portal.
What had started as a mere obligation was now a full-blown quest.
“Stop her,” her father called from behind her.
Roke snorted as he moved to walk beside her. “Obviously you’ve never been mated.”
Sally heaved a faint sigh as Roke grabbed her hand, threading their fingers together.
She’d known he wouldn’t leave her.
Until the mating was broken he couldn’t leave her.
Which meant she was putting him in danger yet again.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Don’t be.” His lips twisted with resignation. “You’re right.”
“I am?”
“We can’t leave the fey stuck here.” He glanced over his shoulder, making certain his words would carry. “And since the mighty king can’t be bothered to take responsibility, it looks like we’ll have to rescue his people.”
“This is absurd,” Sariel called, his seething anger filling the portal with a shimmering heat.
“No shit,” Roke muttered.
There was a stir of air before the King of the Chatri was brushing past them.
“This way,” he commanded, holding up a slender hand as he shifted the swirling strands of magic to curve toward the right.
In spite of her annoyance with her father, Sally found herself fascinated by his manipulation of the magic.
She could almost . . . see . . . how he was loosening the weaves to tug them in the direction he wanted.
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