Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  In time she was fairly certain she could learn to do the same thing.

  Now, however, she was more interested in why her father was altering the portal.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Searching for the prisoners. Raith said they were hidden. You will never locate them without my assistance.” Sariel sent a chiding glance toward Roke. “Clearly you are not a suitable mate or she would have learned to obey your orders.”

  Sally’s brief fascination was replaced by a surge of outrage as she glanced toward her mate.

  “Obey?”

  Roke arched his brows. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to rescue him, not me.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Don’t remind me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Roke stood at the window of Styx’s library, watching as Sally helped Troy load the last of the terrified fey into the black SUV with tinted windows.

  They’d returned to the elegant lair on the outskirts of Chicago just before dawn and tumbled into the nearest bed in exhaustion.

  When he’d awoken hours later he’d intended to keep Sally secluded in their rooms to discuss their future.

  Well, first he had intended to peel off her clothes and taste her from her strawberry-tinted lips to the tips of her tiny toes before spreading her legs and driving deep inside her welcoming heat.

  Then, he had intended to turn her over and repeat the process.

  But after that, he’d had every intention of convincing her that it was time they return to his clan in Nevada.

  Moving to stand beside him, Styx shoved a brandy snifter in Roke’s hand, sipping his drink as the line of SUVs pulled down the long, sweeping drive.

  “You did a good thing,” he murmured as they watched the fey departing.

  Roke shook his head.

  It’d taken Sariel less than an hour to track down the prison and smash through the walls to expose the two dozen fey who were huddled in terror.

  Fairies, imps, sylphs, sprites, nymphs, and the rare Sylvermyst had been reluctantly coaxed out of the portal and then to Styx’s lair where Troy had been waiting for them.

  Eventually they would be reunited with their families who no doubt had been convinced their loved ones were dead.

  “It was Sally,” he corrected with a wry smile. “She’s a better person than I am. If you want the truth, I’d have left them there.”

  “She’s your mate,” Styx said as if that explained everything. “It’s your instinct to put her safety first. Just as it’s her instinct to soften your rough edges.”

  Taking a sip of the aged brandy, Roke slid his gaze toward the towering Aztec at his side.

  “Is that what Darcy does?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Roke snorted, amazed Roke could say that with a straight face.

  “Your edges are still lethally rough,” he pointed out.

  Styx gave a shift of his shoulder, emphasizing the large sword that was strapped to his back and the gun holstered beneath his left arm. The Anasso had declared that as long as his lair was filled with strangers, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  Roke fully agreed with his caution.

  “Maybe, but she makes me consider other people’s feelings,” Styx said.

  Roke grimaced. “Good God.”

  “I know.” Styx polished off his brandy and set aside the snifter.

  “And it doesn’t bother you?”

  A smile that would have shocked most of the demon world suddenly softened Styx’s dark features as he thought of his mate.

  “On the contrary, she has made me a stronger leader than I would ever have been without her.”

  The simple confession made Roke wince. He understood. Too late. But he understood.

  “That I believe.”

  Way too perceptive, Styx sent him a questioning glance. “What about you?”

  Roke frowned, watching as Sally joined her father to stroll across the wide gardens.

  She looked unbearably young in her faded jeans and loose sweatshirt, her hair pulled into a ponytail. Next to her, the golden-haired Chatri wearing his spotless white robe carried with him an aura of timeless age.

  It was an effort not to rush after them as they moved out of sight.

  “What about me?” he asked in distracted tones.

  “Do you still believe Sally will weaken your position as chief?”

  Roke set aside his glass and shoved his fingers through his hair, turning to meet his friend’s curious gaze.

  “Christ, I’m such an ass.”

  “No argument from me.”

  Roke dropped his hand, his lips twisting at the memory of his smug certainty that he could plot out his life as if it were a battle plan.

  “I actually thought I could control who would be my mate.”

  “A damn good thing we can’t,” Styx growled.

  “You’re right.” Roke shuddered at being stuck with the woman of his dreams. “I would’ve ended up with a spineless fool who was too timid to speak her mind, or worse, a power-hungry bitch like Zoe who would have made me miserable within the first year of our mating.”

  Styx’s dark gaze searched his disgusted expression. “So you’re satisfied with Sally as your mate?”

  Roke hissed in shock. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

  “A very reasonable one.”

  With an effort, Roke resisted the urge to punch his friend in the face.

  He was pissed, not insane.

  “You wouldn’t think so if I asked you if you are satisfied with Darcy.”

  Styx was unrepentant. “My mating to Darcy wasn’t caused by a spell gone wrong.”

  “Any mating is a result of demon magic no matter whose magic it might be,” Roke snapped.

  He didn’t want to be lectured as if he were too stupid to know what he wanted, or needed.

  “You know that it’s not the same,” Styx said.

  Roke swore in frustration. “What do you want from me?”

  “Sariel will soon be leaving to join his people.”

  Roke didn’t try to hide his relief that the arrogant bastard would soon be out of his hair.

  Not only had Sariel broken Sally’s heart by admitting he had no interest in her beyond what she could do for him, but he’d selfishly lured her into danger to save his ass.

  The sooner he disappeared, the better.

  “Thank the gods.”

  “Yeah. You get no argument from me,” Styx groused, having endured Sariel’s litany of complaints from the size of his bedroom to the food he was served. Apparently, Styx’s lair wasn’t a suitable setting for his Excellency, the King of the Chatri. “But, he’s the one who has the knowledge and the power to remove Sally’s spell.”

  The windows rattled beneath Roke’s blast of anger. “No.”

  Styx slammed his fists on his hips. “Roke, you need to think about this.”

  “It’s done.” Roke slashed his hand through the air. “End of story.”

  The Anasso refused to back down. “It might not be. Have you considered the possibility that you might eventually meet your true mate?”

  There was no hesitation. “Sally is my true mate.”

  “You won’t know that for certain unless you break the spell,” Styx pressed.

  Roke shook his head. He didn’t need to break the spell to know the truth.

  Sally was so deeply ingrained inside him there was no possibility the bond with her could ever be broken.

  “I told you, no.”

  “If she’s your true mate, then you can finalize the bond in the more traditional way.”

  Roke folded his arms over his chest, not about to confess that he had every intention of finalizing the bond as soon as he could get Sally alone.

  The mere thought of sinking his fangs deep into her flesh and tasting the peach-scented blood . . .

  Christ, he was fully erect just imagining the explosive pleasure.

  Turning back toward the window, Roke instinctiv
ely searched for his mate who was traveling past the garden and out the fences that protected the grounds.

  Where the hell was she going?

  “We can’t be certain that trying to break the spell is safe,” he muttered.

  Styx hesitated, clearly considering the danger to Sally for the first time.

  “You think it might hurt her?”

  “We have to be careful.” Roke placed a hand on the window, not happy his mate was out of sight. “She’s just coming into her powers. They’re too unstable to screw around with.”

  “This might be your only opportunity,” Styx warned, sounding frustrated by Roke’s growing distraction. “Once the Chatri leaves there won’t be anyone here to teach Sally how to break the spell.”

  Roke hid his smile of satisfaction.

  He didn’t want anyone teaching Sally how to break the spell.

  “The decision has been made.”

  Styx allowed a punishing trickle of his power to slam into Roke. Not enough to damage him, but certainly sufficient to gain his attention.

  “Have you made the decision for Sally as well?” he demanded.

  Roke was caught off guard by the question. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Did you ask her if she wants to continue the mating?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  Styx gave him an are-you-shitting-me look. “Your clan did try to kill her.”

  A cold, unnerving fear trickled down his spine.

  He couldn’t dwell on all the reasons Sally might decide he wasn’t worthy to be her mate. Not when he knew the scales weren’t weighted in his favor.

  “I promised Sally that it would never happen again,” Roke swore.

  Styx’s expression abruptly softened and he reached out to grasp his shoulder.

  “Talk to her, amigo,” he urged. “It’s only fair.”

  Roke scowled. “Maybe I don’t want to be fair.”

  Sally walked beside her father in silence as they left the manicured lawns of Styx’s estate to the narrow band of trees that were beyond the high fences that concealed the house from its distant neighbors.

  She wasn’t sure why Sariel had asked her to stroll with him.

  He’d made it fairly obvious he hadn’t been pleased by her insistence on freeing the imprisoned fey. Or by her refusal to listen to his warnings that the vampires were dangerous beasts who were destined to betray her.

  Somehow she’d assumed he would simply disappear. No good-bye. No thank you for saving his life.

  Which made this strange encounter even more awkward.

  “I assume you will soon be returning to your people?” she asked, feeling a sudden need to break the silence.

  “Our people,” he corrected, halting so he could turn to study her with his amber gaze. “And yes, I must join them.”

  She cleared her throat, still not comfortable with the idea she was some sort of powerful Chatri. Even worse, the poor creatures they’d released from the Nebule prison had been so determined to show her their gratitude they’d spent the entire day spreading word of her heroism throughout the fey world.

  Already there were piles of gifts outside the gates to Styx’s driveway and several dozen fairies hoping for a glimpse of her and her father, the King of the Chatri.

  It was enough to make any woman long to lock herself in her bedroom and throw away the key.

  Especially if that bedroom included a silver-eyed vampire who could make her shiver with the demanding pleasure of his lips and the sweet invasion of his hard body that made her arch in need.

  She licked her lips, resisting the urge to tug at the neckline of her sweatshirt as a hot flash nearly boiled her alive.

  Holy crap.

  With an effort, she slammed the door on the image of Roke spread naked on her bed.

  It was just . . . creepy when she was standing next to her father.

  She forced a stiff smile to her lips. “Will you be coming back here?”

  “That’s a question I will consider,” he murmured.

  “So . . .” She licked her dry lips. “I suppose this is good-bye.”

  Expecting Sariel to take advantage of her farewell, she was startled when he reached to take her hand in an uncomfortable grip.

  “It need not be.”

  She glanced down to where his slender fingers held hers.

  “No?”

  “You could come with me.”

  She struggled to follow the bizarre conversation. “To your home?”

  “That is where you belong. With me.”

  Okay. This was so not what she was expecting.

  She shook her head. “It’s a kind offer, but my place is here.”

  A hint of impatience rippled over his painfully beautiful face.

  “You have no desire to meet your family?”

  She sucked in a sharp breath as he hit her at her most vulnerable spot.

  A lucky shot? She didn’t think so.

  Her father was clearly a masterful manipulator.

  “You’ve spoken to them?”

  “Of course.”

  “Tell me about them,” she requested, her voice nearly lost on the chilled breeze.

  “You have four sisters who are all princesses. Three are married to suitable Chatri males and the fourth will be married as soon as I return,” he readily answered. “There are also two brothers who are in line for the throne. They are currently training to become leaders of their own houses.”

  His words were no doubt intended to tempt her into traveling to his home. Unfortunately for him, they only reminded Sally of the difference between herself and her siblings.

  Princesses? Princes?

  She would be a joke.

  Feeling Sariel’s piercing gaze, she ducked her head. “I’m nothing more than a stranger to them.”

  “You rescued me from the Nebule. You would be a hero to them.” His voice was coaxing. “They will no doubt compose songs and poems in your honor.”

  Sally grimaced in sheer horror. “No thanks.”

  The perfect features tightened, as if he was irritated by her response.

  “Then what about your family?” he insisted.

  “What about them?”

  “Among the Chatri nothing is more important.” He chose his words with care. “Would you deny them the opportunity to meet you?”

  Sally couldn’t deny a pang of regret.

  She’d been so alone for so long, always secretly dreaming she would find a place to call home.

  Now that she was actually being offered one, it was unbearably wrenching to turn her back on it.

  “I’m not truly family,” she whispered.

  His grip tightened on her fingers. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a half-breed,” she reminded him. “I doubt the princes and princesses would be happy to have me pop out of the proverbial closet.”

  With his usual arrogance, Sariel shrugged aside the inevitable horror at her arrival among the coldly aloof, shatteringly beautiful Chatri.

  “They will accept you.”

  A sad, wistful smile tugged at her lips. He was king. He could probably force his people to bow and scrape before her if that’s what he commanded.

  But he couldn’t make them think of her as anything but an interloper.

  There mere thought made her shudder.

  “I’m looking for more than gruding acceptance,” she told him softly.

  He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  She smiled wryly. “I know.”

  He hesitated, his supreme confidence faltering as he studied her in exasperation.

  Had he expected her to leap for joy at his invitation?

  Probably.

  “Tell me what you desire.”

  She turned to glance toward the house they’d left behind. She could see no more than the roof, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to see the sprawling mansion to know that Roke was inside.

  Unconsciously she lifted a hand to r
ub it against the center of her chest, directly over heart.

  “Love.”

  Sariel studied her in confusion. “Love?”

  The word was clearly unfamiliar to her father. Perhaps the Chatri considered messy emotions beneath them.

  But Sally didn’t.

  She’d devoted years to futilely trying to earn her mother’s love. And then even more years trying to pretend it didn’t matter.

  Why shouldn’t she be blessed with the happiness other people took for granted?

  “It’s what I’ve wanted my whole life,” she admitted. “And I’m not going to stop searching until I find it.”

  Sariel studied her with a steady amber gaze, the scent of intoxicating wine filling the air.

  “Does the vampire love you?”

  Sally grimaced.

  Her father certainly had a way of striking where she was most vulnerable.

  It was a question that she’d refused to consider.

  She’d told herself that any emotions Roke might or might not feel for her were nothing more than a result of the unwanted mating. And that once she’d reversed her spell, he’d walk away without a backward glance.

  But while she hadn’t consciously allowed herself to nurture dangerous hopes, a few had managed to creep beneath her defenses and lodge themselves deep in her heart.

  A part of her desperately wanted to believe that when the mating was at last broken, Roke would feel more than relief. That he would . . .

  She bit her bottom lip, trying to leash her fantasies.

  It wasn’t fair to Roke. He’d already sacrificed so much for her. How could she expect him to fall in love with the woman who’d bewitched him, bonded him, and then nearly gotten him killed a dozen times?

  And she knew him well enough to realize that if he suspected leaving her would break her heart, he would feel guilty. Or worse, try to pretend he wasn’t desperate to get away from her.

  “I’m not certain.” She was careful to keep the yearning out of her voice. “I know he cares, but how much of that is a result of the mating and how much is genuine affection is impossible to know.”

  “Not impossible,” he assured her.

  She met the amber gaze. “You can remove the spell?”

  His pale, beautiful face gave no indication of his inner thoughts. “It’s a simple enchantment spell but because your powers were surging at the time, they triggered his mating instincts.”