Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  If being a princess meant sitting on an uncomfortable throne so a group of strangers could gawk at her, she’d be happy to give the privilege to someone else.

  Immediately.

  Perhaps sensing her growing distress, Sariel leaned sideways to awkwardly pat her hand, which clenched the arm of the chair.

  “I told you that my people would be happy to welcome you, child,” he reminded her.

  Despite being furious with her father, Sally couldn’t deny a rueful pleasure. He was doing his best to make her feel at home.

  “I’ve been happy to meet them as well. Especially my sisters and brothers,” she said, keeping her voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “But you promised I would be allowed to contact Roke.”

  Sariel’s lips flattened. “In time.”

  “He’s going to be worried about me.”

  Her father abruptly changed the conversation. “Tell me what you think of Lasko?”

  “Who?” she asked in genuine confusion.

  Sariel nodded toward the young man standing near a marble column, his beautiful features carved with an inbred arrogance that made Sally grimace.

  “He’s the eldest son of the Sonesel House.”

  She sent her father a horrified glare. “You’re not trying to play matchmaker, are you?”

  He shrugged. “Once I break your mating you will be free to choose another male. Lasko is not only wealthy and a powerful warrior, but his house is a rival to ours. Such an alliance would be highly beneficial.”

  She snorted. “Beneficial to whom? Not me.”

  The amber eyes held a hint of censure at her flippant tone. “To all Chatri.”

  She rolled her eyes. It seemed her father just couldn’t resist trying to use her to his own advantage.

  Not that it mattered.

  There was only one man who would ever be her mate.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “I have no plans to play Juliet.”

  Sariel frowned, obviously not a fan of Shakespeare.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not interested in Lasko even though I’m sure he’s a fine man,” she clarified.

  “There are others,” her father began only to be interrupted by a flurry of soft gasps and a few cries of fear from the back of the room. Slowly Sariel rose to his feet. “What is the disruption?” he demanded.

  The crowd slowly parted to reveal Fallon as she moved forward with two large vampires flanking her.

  Sariel went rigid, a flush of anger staining his pale cheeks.

  “Fallon, explain yourself.”

  Fallon flinched, but with remarkable courage she met her father’s furious glare.

  “Sally’s mate was anxious to be reunited with her.”

  Indifferent to her father or the chattering crowd, Sally launched herself off the dais and directly into Roke’s waiting arms.

  She breathed deeply of his familiar scent, tears streaming down her face as he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  “I have you,” he murmured, running a comforting hand down her spine. “And I’m never letting you go again.”

  “Leave us,” her father bellowed, and Sally glanced up to watch in surprise as the Chatri scurried out of the room, along with Fallon who pulled a stubborn Cyn through a side door.

  Once alone, her father moved to stand directly in front of them.

  “How dare you trespass in my home, leech?”

  Roke tucked Sally behind him as he faced her father without fear.

  “I’ve come for my mate.” His power fractured the floor beneath their feet. “I’m not leaving without her.”

  Her father ignored the display of strength. “She came here to end the mating.”

  She felt Roke tense at the soft words, his brows drawing together as he glanced toward her.

  “Sally?”

  Sally resisted the urge to deny the accusation. This was too important to screw up.

  “Sariel has promised to break the spell,” she admitted.

  The pale eyes darkened with a hurt he didn’t bother to try and hide.

  “That’s why you left?”

  She glanced toward her father. “Can we speak in private?”

  The king parted his lips to deny her request, only to hesitate when he read the unmistakable threat in her eyes.

  He’d already crossed a line when he’d brought her to his homeland without asking. If he pressed her on this, there was a good chance she was never going to forgive him.

  He made a sound of disgust. “Very well. I will allow you a few moments.” He pointed a finger at Roke. “But know this, vampire, you are in my territory. Here you will obey my rules.”

  Sally laid a finger against Roke’s lips, preventing him from spewing his angry words. Only when her father had disappeared behind the thrones did she lower her hand.

  “Someday,” Roke muttered.

  Turning so she could face him directly, Sally laid her hand on his cheek, the ache in her heart easing as his power settled like a cloak around her.

  “I didn’t mean to disappear,” she told him.

  He peered deep into her eyes, as if searching for the truth. “Then why did you?”

  “My father requested that I become a sort of diplomat between the Chatri and our world.”

  Her words caught him off guard. Lucky for him, he didn’t share his personal opinion of the offer. It was enough that his lips curled with blatant repugnance.

  “And you said?” he asked.

  She held his gaze. “I said, yes.”

  He carefully hid his reaction. “I see.”

  “Next thing I knew I was here,” she continued her story.

  The pale eyes blazed with silver fire. “Here and asking for our mating to be broken.”

  She stroked her fingers down his cheek to trace the stubborn line of his jaw.

  “The spell to be broken.”

  “Why?”

  She released an unsteady sigh, forcing herself to speak the painful words.

  “Because you deserve the opportunity to find your true mate.”

  He grabbed her fingers that she was stroking down the line of his throat and pressed them to his lips.

  “I have found her,” he snapped.

  It’s what she hoped for with every fiber of her being, but she couldn’t risk that someday he would be denied the female destined to be at his side.

  “You don’t know that.”

  He wasn’t happy. “Christ, what do I have to do to prove it to you?”

  “Allow my father to break the spell.”

  “No.”

  She frowned, baffled by his refusal to even consider her request.

  “If you’re so confident I’m your mate, then why are you being so stubborn about the spell?”

  His thumb rubbed against her inner wrist, the air prickling a sharp chill.

  “I have no doubt you’re my mate.”

  “But?”

  There was a short hesitation, then with obvious reluctance, he admitted what was bothering him.

  “But, I can’t be certain I am your mate.”

  Sally stared at him in confusion. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

  “Not necessarily.” He lowered her hand, turning her arm over so he could push up the sleeve of her gown and reveal the crimson marking. “When a vampire’s mate is of a different species there’s no guarantee that they will be similarly committed.” His fingers brushed over the sensitive tattoo, sending a jolt of lust straight through her. “Do Chatri even have true mates?”

  She stepped closer, her gaze lowering to the sensual temptation of his lips.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She could feel his rising arousal as her gaze remained on his lips, his fingers continuing to caress her arm.

  “It doesn’t?” he asked, his tone husky with need.

  “No.” She smiled as she caught a glimpse of fang. Ah, her gorgeous, sexy, utterly exasperating vampire. “Because I love you.”

&nbs
p; He blinked, looking as if he’d just been hit upside the head with a shovel.

  “You . . . you love me?”

  Sally chuckled. Dear goddess. Did he think that she melted for every man who touched her? Or risked her life to take him to his own people when he was injured? Or was willing to suffer the agony of losing him to make sure he never regretted being her mate?

  “Irrevocably, madly, and for all eternity,” she swore, going on her toes to press her lips to the corner of his mouth.

  He gave a low groan. “Sally.”

  She pulled back to study his expression, which remained wary. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  “You’re certain?”

  She hid a smile at his vulnerable plea for assurance. This wasn’t the aloof, I-am-an-island vampire she’d first met. Her heart swelled with the love she could barely contain.

  “Roke, I don’t need a spell to be committed to you,” she murmured, planting tiny kisses over his cheek. “You’ve had my heart since you brought a tray of buffalo wings to my prison cell.”

  “And apple pie,” he reminded her in thick tones, his arms wrapping around her waist to haul her tight against his body. “Don’t forget the apple pie.”

  She chuckled, her lips finding a sensitive spot just below his ear.

  “I’ll never forget anything, you aggravating vampire.”

  There was a swish of satin before her father returned to the room, his mood stormy as he caught sight of them embracing.

  “That is enough privacy,” he snarled. “It is time to end this mating.”

  Pulling back, Sally held Roke’s gaze. “Trust me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Roke didn’t like this.

  He didn’t want to break the mating. And he most certainly didn’t want Sally’s pain-in-the-ass father to be the one to remove the spell.

  The bastard might use his magic to convince Sally that she no longer loved him.

  Loved him.

  He grimaced as Sally’s soft words whispered through her mind.

  She told him that she loved him. And then she’d asked him to trust her.

  What else could he do?

  “Fine,” he muttered, glaring at the king as he approached. He silently swore he would kill the man if he did anything to alter Sally’s feelings. “Remove the spell.”

  Sally suddenly pulled out of his arms, glancing toward the distant door where a handful of Chatri were trying to peek through a narrow opening.

  “Wait,” she muttered.

  “Second thoughts?” Roke asked.

  “No, but I’m tired of being gawked at.” She shuddered. “I want to do this in private.”

  “We can go to your rooms,” Sariel pronounced, turning to head with dignified pace toward a small door behind the dais. “They have finished being prepared.”

  Roke placed an arm around Sally’s shoulders as they followed in his regal wake.

  “You have rooms?” he demanded, not liking the thought of her having a permanent place that was anywhere but at his side.

  “This is my daughter’s home, of course she has rooms,” Sariel retorted.

  “Her place is with me at my lair,” he growled.

  The king glanced over his shoulder with an accusing expression.

  “Among people who tried to kill her?”

  Roke felt the familiar stab of guilt. “That was . . . a mistake. They will honor her as my mate.”

  Sariel sniffed in disdain. “Here she is a princess.”

  Roke clenched his teeth. There was no answer to that.

  She was a princess here. And while he knew his people would grow to adore Sally, they hadn’t made it easy for him to convince her that his lair was going to make some fantasy dream-home.

  It was Sally who at last broke the silence as they walked down yet another marble hallway with dark red roses circling the fluted columns.

  “There’s no reason I can’t assist Roke with his duties as chief and be a diplomat for the Chatri.”

  Both men were swift to offer their protests. “But—”

  “That wasn’t open for debate.” She effectively slammed the door on their objections.

  Roke smiled. This was his feisty little witch.

  “Bossy,” he teased.

  “That’s right.” Her dark eyes held a wicked amusement. “I am woman, hear me roar.”

  They paused before a set of double doors and Roke glanced down at her pale, vulnerable face, needing to know if she truly meant that she could face returning to his people.

  “You’re willing to travel to Nevada?” he asked softly.

  She smiled, holding up a hand that had destroyed a Nebule demon with pure light.

  “I think I can hold my own now.”

  He nodded, in full agreement. He didn’t doubt she could make even the most powerful vampire regret screwing with her. But he didn’t want her to think for a second she had to worry about protecting herself in her own home.

  “True, but there will be no need.” He paused, making sure she knew he spoke the absolute truth. “That, I promise.”

  Sariel threw open the doors and gestured them inside. “Let us be done with this,” he snapped.

  They entered a room that was a schoolgirl fantasy.

  The walls were made of mirrors that reflected the overhead chandelier, giving the image of tiny diamonds dancing in the air. The floor was a polished wood and in the center of the room was a massive bed with a pink canopy.

  Roke grimaced. He felt like he’d been shoved into an oversize dollhouse.

  Unaware that his choice of décor proved just how little he knew about his daughter, Sariel held a hand over Roke’s head.

  “Don’t move.”

  Roke bared his fangs, immediately feeling a strange heat surge through his blood.

  It wasn’t the intense blast of power that had knocked him unconscious when Sally had first enchanted him, but there was no mistaking something was happening.

  At last the man dropped his hand and stepped back.

  “Is the spell gone?” Sally demanded.

  “Yes,” Sariel answered.

  Shrugging out of his leather jacket, Roke allowed it to drop to the floor as he turned over his arm.

  They watched in silence as the crimson tattooing slowly faded. Roke choked back a curse, able to feel the King of the Chatri’s smug satisfaction.

  Lucky for the jackass, he didn’t have time to boast before there was a tingle beneath Roke’s skin and the mating mark returned, even more vivid than before.

  With a fierce surge of satisfaction, he lifted his head to meet Sally’s dark gaze.

  “I told you that you were my mate.”

  She slowly smiled. “And you’re always right?”

  He was barely aware he was moving before he had her wrapped in his arms, the feel of her soft curves making him instantly hard.

  “Always,” he assured her.

  “Sally,” her father snapped.

  Roke lowered his head, his gaze intent on Sally’s flushed face.

  “Go away, Sariel,” he growled.

  There was a gasp of disbelief. “This is my home.”

  Sally stroked her hands over Roke’s chest. “Father, please,” she murmured, clearly distracted.

  With a huff, the king marched toward the door. “We will speak later.”

  “Much later,” Roke warned.

  Neither noticed the door slamming as Sariel made his dramatic exit, each too intent on the other and the intense emotions that were exploding through their bond.

  There was relief and joy and the ever-present desire.

  And love.

  A stunning, how-did-I-ever-survive-without-this love.

  “My mate,” Roke murmured, yanking off her sweatshirt so he could savor the sight of his mark branded into her inner arm.

  It might not have been the typical mating that occurred between vampires, but it was just as real.

  And just as lasting.

  “Yes,”
she breathed, a brilliant smile curving her lips.

  He pulled her back into his arms, burying his face in her hair.

  “Don’t ever leave me again.”

  “Never,” she swore, her hands exploring his chest with a growing insistence.

  Roke’s fangs pulsed in perfect tempo with his fully erect cock.

  He’d denied his deepest hunger for so long.

  Now he was being consumed by his most primitive instinct.

  “I need—”

  “Roke?” she prompted as he lifted his head to study the heat staining her cheeks.

  He needed to watch her expression. He couldn’t bear to frighten her.

  She’d had more than her fair share of unpleasant surprises.

  “I need to taste you,” he said.

  Her expression was more curious than wary as she considered his words. “You want to bite me?”

  “More than you could ever possibly imagine,” he growled.

  Slowly she tilted her head to the side, exposing her slender neck.

  “Then do it.”

  He quivered, nearly overcome with lust.

  “You’re certain?”

  She grabbed his face and urged it toward her throat. “Now, Roke.”

  He didn’t need another invitation. Hell, he couldn’t have resisted another minute if there’d been a stake pressed to his heart.

  Exposing his fangs, he struck at the base of her throat, sinking deep into her flesh.

  Pleasure exploded through Roke as her blood hit his tongue, the taste finer than any aphrodisiac.

  “God. You taste of peaches,” he muttered, his entire body shuddering with desire. “My favorite.”

  “Oh . . . yes,” Sally groaned, her hands roughly tugging at his T-shirt.

  “Sally?” he said and pulled out his fangs, carefully licking shut the tiny wounds.

  “I need you naked.”

  His cock gave a twitch of approval, trying to bust through the zipper of his jeans. But his brain hadn’t forgotten they were in Sariel’s territory. Who knew when the bastard might decide to return?

  “What about your—”

  Sally managed to wrangle the shirt over his head, her fingers moving to attack his jeans.

  “Less talk, more action,” she commanded.

  With a sinful chuckle, Roke gave in to the desire that thundered through him.