Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  Sally grimaced. She hoped her powers would level off soon. The goddess only knew what disaster she might create next time.

  “What happens if you remove it?” she asked.

  “You’ll know the truth of his heart.”

  She nodded at his blunt words.

  It’s what she wanted. No, wait. It wasn’t what she wanted. The thought of Roke leaving was a sharp, jagged pain that threatened to destroy her.

  But it was what she needed.

  What they both needed.

  There was only one question that had to be answered first. “Will it hurt Roke?”

  “No.” Her father’s lips flattened in disapproval. “Unfortunately.”

  She ignored Sariel’s lack of enthusiasm for her mate. The two males were way too alpha not to strike sparks off each other.

  She had far more important things to worry about.

  Drawing in a deep, painful breath, she squared her shoulders.

  The spell had to be broken.

  It was the only way Roke could be free to choose the future he wanted, not the one she’d inflicted on him.

  “Then do it,” she said before she could lose her nerve.

  A smile that bordered on smug curved her father’s mouth. “Only if you agree to visit my home.”

  Sally snatched her fingers from his grip, stepping back with a deep scowl.

  She should have suspected her father’s help wouldn’t be freely given.

  He no doubt invented the Trojan horse.

  “No way.”

  Sariel’s expression remained calm, his fingers absently smoothing the sleeve of his pure white robe.

  “I said visit, not stay.”

  She told herself to walk away. Hadn’t she just convinced herself she had no place among the Chatri?

  Besides, she didn’t trust this man.

  If he wanted her to travel with him to her homeland, then there had to be an ulterior motive. And she doubted it had anything to do with ending her mating with Roke.

  But even as she told herself to turn around and return to Styx’s lair, her feet refused to move.

  Instead she remained frozen in place, her curiosity overcoming her common sense.

  “Why?”

  He paused, his amber gaze lowering to where tiny flowers were beginning to bloom along the edge of his bare feet.

  It was the most amazing sight.

  “I am beginning to realize that I have not been the father you wish me to be,” he at last said, the stiffness of his tone indicating how hard it was to concede he might not be perfect.

  She jerked her gaze up to study his carefully composed expression.

  “That’s not your fault.”

  And it wasn’t.

  Sariel was the leader of people who obviously didn’t put value on emotions. He couldn’t have known how desperately she wanted a father who could fill the dark void in the center of her heart.

  “Given time I believe we can create a better understanding of one another,” he persisted.

  Sally frowned. Was he being for real?

  Could he truly want . . . an understanding? Whatever the hell that meant.

  “Why would you want that?”

  Another awkward pause. “It is difficult for me to admit, but it’s possible we have become too isolated as a people.”

  She remained suspicious. Who could blame her? So far Sariel had been clear that she’d been created for one purpose. And it wasn’t to be his loving daughter.

  “I thought that was the whole point of leaving here?”

  He shrugged. “It was, but after meeting you I believe there’s something to be said for variety. And for—”

  “What?”

  “And for having a connection to the world beyond our borders.”

  She sensed he had a point. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

  “What sort of connection?”

  His gaze abruptly lifted, the amber eyes shimmering with hints of jade.

  “You.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  He seemed to search for the proper words. “You could be a diplomat between our world and this one.”

  She jerked in shock.

  A diplomat? Her?

  It was a career she’d never considered.

  She had no skill with languages, no personal charm, not to mention the fact she tended to become a smartass when she was feeling defensive.

  Not the sort of characteristics that would win friends and influence people.

  On the other hand, she was one of the rare few who possessed the blood of a Chatri who was also of this world.

  That did make her . . . unusual.

  “Oh.”

  Sariel held her gaze. “Would you like that?”

  “Yes.” Sally widened her eyes in surprise as she felt an unmistakable surge of anticipation. She might not fit among the Chatri, but she could offer them something no one else could. “Yes, I think I would.”

  “Good.” With a triumphant smile he grasped her hand. “Let us go.”

  It was the abrupt burst of colors that warned Sally her father meant to leave immediately.

  She tried to tug her hand free, but this time her father refused to loosen his grip.

  “Wait—” she protested, but it was too late.

  Already the swirls of magic were dancing around her, sucking her into the portal and away from Roke.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Leaving Styx to deal with his endless duties as Anasso, Roke headed directly into the moon-drenched gardens.

  He wasn’t intending to stick his nose into Sally’s private meeting with her father. That would be . . . wrong, wouldn’t it?

  But, if his lazy stroll happened to take him in the same direction of his mate, then he couldn’t help if he happened to overhear their conversation.

  A fine plan that was interrupted by the blond-haired berserker who almost instantly joined him near a marble fountain.

  Cyn had proven to be invaluable help when they’d arrived at Styx’s lair with a gaggle of terrified fey. While Troy had been busy contacting the family members of the recently returned prisoners, Cyn had not only revealed a surprising kindness as he’d urged them to their various rooms, but he’d also managed to contact several local fey who brought food and clothing that were specifically designed to make the nearly comatose fey feel at home.

  He was dressed similar to Roke in faded jeans and tight black tee, although Cyn chose shitkickers instead of Roke’s knee-high moccasins.

  As usual he’d braided the front strands of his long hair and tied them off with metal beads, while he had his favorite dagger strapped to his upper leg and a handgun holstered on his hip.

  Never let it be said Cyn didn’t know how to rock the screw-with-me-and-die vibe.

  They walked in silence until they neared the marble grotto in the center of the garden.

  “So you’ll be returning to your clan?” Cyn abruptly demanded.

  Roke grimaced. It was a discussion he’d been putting off.

  “Once Sally is comfortable with the idea,” he said.

  Cyn sent him a knowing glance. “You think that might be a problem?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What if it is?”

  Roke shrugged. His decision had been made.

  “Then I hand the position to Kale. He’s a competent leader who I trust to protect my people.”

  Cyn came to a sharp halt, a blatant horror etched onto his bluntly chiseled features.

  “You would walk away from your clan?”

  Roke stopped beside his friend, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Without hesitation,” he admitted. “Nothing is more important to me than making Sally happy.”

  Cyn gave an exaggerated shudder. “Better you than me.”

  Roke laughed. Only weeks ago he’d been nurturing a sense of outrage at being stuck with Sally as his mate for all of eternity.

  Even when he’d known in the d
epths of his heart that he was never, ever going to allow her to escape.

  Fate seemed to have a peculiar sense of humor.

  “Your mate is out there,” he warned his friend. “And chances are you’ll find her when you least expect it.”

  “Don’t be trying to curse me.” Cyn made a hasty sign to ward off evil. “I’m a vampire who fully embraces his freedom.”

  Roke smiled wryly. Well wasn’t that the truth?

  “By freedom you mean big-busted nymphs?”

  Cyn waggled his brows. “Or fairies. Or sprites. I’m not choosy.”

  “No shit.” Roke rolled his eyes. “Will you be leaving for Ireland?”

  “Aye. I . . .” The vampire frowned as Roke went rigid and his power shook the ground. “Roke?”

  “Goddammit,” Roke growled, racing toward the nearby gate as fear exploded in the pit of his belly. “Not again.”

  Cyn kept pace beside him, pulling his gun as Roke’s temper shattered the marble benches to dust.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” the clan chief commanded.

  Roke could barely speak, a dark panic threatening to cloud his mind.

  “Sally.”

  “She’s hurt?”

  “She’s gone.”

  Cyn was wise enough to avoid the stone archway as it crumbled into a pile of rubble, instead following Roke as he smoothly vaulted over the high fence and headed into the nearby woods.

  “Gone where?”

  “I don’t know,” Roke snapped, his senses spreading through the neighborhood for any hint of his mate. “She was here one minute and gone the next.”

  Cyn muttered a low curse. “Could it have been a portal?”

  “Yes.” Roke skidded to a stop, bending down to touch the ground that was still warm from the magic. “Here.”

  Cyn closed his eyes as he tested the air. “The Chatri.”

  “Goddamn that bastard.” Roke straightened, wishing he’d left the King of the Chatri trapped in the Nebule’s prison. He’d known as soon as he’d met the arrogant ass he was going to be trouble. “He stole my mate.”

  Cyn shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Roke, you can’t be sure.”

  Was he kidding? Roke shook his head.

  “There are no other scents beyond Sally and Sariel. He had to have been the one who took her.”

  “I’m not suggesting he wasn’t the one who formed the portal.”

  Roke narrowed his gaze. “Then what are you saying?”

  Cyn grimaced. “Maybe it wasn’t a kidnapping.”

  Common sense warned Roke that his friend had a point. It wasn’t, after all, the first time that Sally had disappeared. Hell, it wasn’t even the second time.

  But he wasn’t currently listening to common sense.

  He was listening to his heart that whispered Sally wouldn’t abandon him.

  Not without speaking to him first.

  “Sally wouldn’t have left me.”

  Cyn carefully considered his words. Wise vampire.

  “Sariel is her father.”

  Roke shook his head. “He’s a selfish bastard who destroyed her dreams of finding a family who actually cared about her.”

  “Still, family is family,” Cyn pressed, speaking words that Roke didn’t want to hear. “Especially to a young woman who never had one.”

  No. Roke wouldn’t doubt her.

  He had to believe that she’d been taken against her will.

  It was the only way to keep a grip on his sanity.

  “She wouldn’t have left,” he stubbornly insisted. “Not without telling me she was going.”

  Cyn tempted a swift, painful death. “She did before.”

  Roke gave a low growl.

  Enough.

  He wasn’t going to waste time arguing. Not when Sally was being taken farther and farther away from him.

  “She was forced,” he muttered, yanking his dagger from beneath his leather jacket before he was running through the trees with fluid ease.

  There was a startled sound behind him before Cyn was racing to catch up.

  “Where the hell are you going?” he rasped, his gaze scanning the thinning trees for any potential danger.

  “I can feel her.”

  Cyn scowled. “Feel her?”

  Roke slammed his fist against the middle of his chest. “Here.”

  “You’ve lost your mind, buddy,” Cyn muttered as they hit the street and Roke picked up his pace until they were traveling too fast for the human eye to follow.

  “Maybe.” He really didn’t give a shit. Still, as eager as he might be to risk his life, he wasn’t nearly so ready to put Cyn in danger. “Return to Styx and—”

  “No way,” his companion interrupted, continuing to scan their surroundings with a wary gaze.

  Roke frowned. “This isn’t your fight, Cyn.”

  The vampire kept his gun at his side, clearly determined to play the role of bodyguard.

  “It is now.”

  Roke rubbed the aching void in the center of his chest. His connection to Sally remained steady, but it was . . . muffled. As if something or someone was trying to hide her.

  It didn’t take a genius to know who that might be.

  “Why?” he demanded of his companion.

  “Obviously, you need me.”

  Roke snorted. It wasn’t often that anyone dared to imply that he was anything but fully competent at taking care of himself.

  “I do?”

  They reached the outskirts of the chichi suburbs, and Roke veered toward the empty farmlands, barely noticing the lesser demons who scattered in terror at the sight of two powerful vampires on the hunt.

  “If Sally is with the Chatri then you need someone who has a basic knowledge of the fey,” Cyn explained. “So it’s me or Troy, the Prince of Imps.”

  Roke grimaced. The only thing worse than traveling with the ridiculous imp would be another road trip with the gargoyle.

  “This could be dangerous,” he warned. “I’m not Sariel’s favorite person.”

  “Hard to believe,” Cyn said dryly.

  “He might fight to keep Sally,” Roke pointed out.

  Not that he truly hoped he could convince Cyn to return to Styx’s lair. Telling the berserker that there was danger involved was almost a certain guarantee he’d be first in line.

  Cyn didn’t disappoint.

  Smiling with irrational anticipation, Cyn ran his tongue down the length of one massive fang.

  “All the more reason you need me.”

  Roke did.

  Although he didn’t know if Cyn’s knowledge of fey would actually help when it came to the mysterious Chatri, he was a powerful warrior who could slash his way through a horde of trolls without batting an eye.

  “I owe you one,” he said.

  “Aye, you do,” Cyn agreed. “Don’t think I won’t collect.”

  When Sally was young, she was addicted to fairy tales.

  What lonely little girl who was raised by a neglectful mother in bleak, isolated cabins wouldn’t dream of a world where beautiful people twirled through elegant ballrooms dressed in shimmering gowns and sparkling jewels? And where handsome princes tumbled into love with Cinderella even if she was a gawky, introverted witch instead of a pretty princess.

  But dreaming of fairy tales and actually being dumped into one were two very different things, she quickly discovered.

  She was still struggling against Sariel’s hold when they’d stepped from the portal into a large foyer with massive chandeliers and walls painted with exquisite murals.

  Which meant she was completely unprepared for the swift arrival of her sisters and brothers who’d welcomed their father home with a stiff, but seemingly genuine happiness at his return. That had been followed by an endless line of Chatri who viewed their king’s arrival with varying degrees of pleasure.

  All of them were, of course, breathtakingly beautiful with hair that ranged from pale gold to brilliant red and lean, elegant bodies dressed
in silk robes that were heavily embroidered with priceless jewels. And all of them eyed her with a blatant curiosity that made her want to crawl behind the nearest fluted column and disappear from view.

  There was none of the disapproval she’d been expecting, but it was still unnerving being the center of attention.

  Her discomfort only grew as they were whisked away to a banquet hall that was twice the size of most football fields and filled with long rosewood tables and high chairs carved by the hand of an artist. The tableware was made of gold and crystal that reflected the magical balls of light that danced near the coved ceiling.

  Once they were seated several dozen fairylike servants dressed in modest robes entered with trays laden with fruit and freshly baked bread and bowls of honey.

  Sally had dutifully eaten, unwilling to become even more of a spectacle, but as the meal had ended and several musicians had settled in the balcony at the far end of the hall to fill the air with an exquisite melody, she’d become increasingly loud in her demand that she be returned to Roke.

  Sariel smiled, promising that she would soon be allowed to speak with him even as he had lifted a hand toward Fallon, one of her sisters, and insisted the female take Sally to her rooms so she could bathe and change her clothes while her new rooms were being prepared.

  Swallowing her angry words, Sally had little choice but to follow the beautiful female through marble corridors. Her father might be a powerful king, but in many ways he acted like a child. The more she insisted to be returned to Roke, the harder he would dig in his heels.

  She would obviously have to pretend she was content to remain until she could find some way to escape.

  Or at least contact Roke.

  Fallon took several side corridors, making Sally wonder if there was any end to the sprawling palace, and then they entered a set of rooms that made her breath catch.

  There was a delightful warmth in the delicate tapestries that covered the walls and the thickly cushioned furniture that was built for comfort rather than to impress. A cascade of water spilled through a wide crack in the flagstone floor, lined by flowers with vivid blooms in shades from crimson to brilliant sapphire.

  It was as if a tiny meadow had just appeared in the center of her room.

  Even the attached bathroom was filled with fragrant blooms that surrounded the sunken bath where Sally quickly washed and pulled on a satin gown that had genuine emeralds sewn into the neckline.