by Larissa Ione
“I would move away from the door,” Yannah warned.
“Why?”
The question had barely tumbled from her lips when there was the god-awful screech of twisting metal as the massive door was forced off its hinges. With a gasp, Kata managed to leap to the side, avoiding being squashed beneath the wreckage. She couldn’t, however, avoid the large man who charged into the cell directly behind the door.
With the force of a cement truck he slammed into her, sending them both crashing onto the hard floor.
“Oof.” The air was painfully knocked from her lungs and her head smacked against the floor.
It took a moment before the fog in her brain cleared enough to take stock of the heavy beast crushing her against the lead floor.
And even longer to convince herself that she wasn’t imagining the breathtakingly beautiful face that hovered a mere inch above her.
An angel . . .
What other creature possessed such pale, exquisite features? Or dark eyes as soft as velvet? Or a halo of burnished brown curls?
Her heart forgot to beat as she became lost in those beautiful eyes, her breath once again squeezed from her lungs.
He was just so . . . beautiful.
Straight out of a fantasy, how-do-I-get-him-in-my-bed-this-second gorgeous.
Desire, raw and demanding, pulsed through her. Dear goddess. His hard body fit against her with tantalizing perfection. And his scent. A rich musk that made her blood heat with a potent hunger that was as shocking as it was unfamiliar.
Kata knew that she had only to close her eyes to become lost in his dark enchantment.
Then the cold blast of his power filled the room and her insane thoughts were shattered.
A vampire.
A damned vampire.
It was no wonder he could melt a heart at a hundred paces.
The evil creatures used their beauty as a lethal weapon.
She pressed her hands against his hard chest, too late realizing her danger. But oddly he didn’t strike, despite the terrifying flash of his huge fangs. Instead he regarded her with a horror that matched her own.
“You,” he breathed, looking as if he’d seen a ghost. “Bloody hell.”
“Who did you expect to land on top of?” she snapped, her terror of vampires overwhelmed by a bizarre annoyance that her first reaction had been “oh-my-God-please-take-me-now” while his had been pure male disappointment. “Lady GaGa?”
He blinked, clearly startled by her grip on the modern world and pop culture.
“I was told you were caught in a mage’s spell.”
“Who told you?”
“Your supposed daughter.”
“Laylah.” An instant warmth curled through the center of her heart. She had known that Laylah was in the company of a vampire before she’d lost contact with her, but she hadn’t expected her daughter to send a bloodsucker to rescue her. It was . . . touching. “I should have known that she would . . .” Her brows abruptly snapped together as his words truly sunk in. “What do you mean supposed?”
He stared down at her with a predictable arrogance. Vampires had I’m superior to you stamped into their DNA.
“We have no proof beyond the word of a treacherous vampire, a psychopathic mage, and a female who magically appeared in a vision at a suspiciously opportune moment to reveal she is Laylah’s mother and being held hostage by her evil twin sister.” His lips twisted to a sneer. “It’s like a bad fairy tale.”
Kata slammed her hands against his chest. She loved her daughter, but Laylah obviously had piss poor taste in choosing a Knight in Shining Armor.
“Get off me, you oaf.”
“Not until I’m certain this isn’t a trap.”
She shifted beneath his heavy body, futilely trying to wiggle away from him. If the brute thought he could knock her to the ground and then insult her, then he was in for an unpleasant surprise. She might not possess the strength of a demon, but she wasn’t entirely helpless.
“Do you know what I am?” she hissed.
Concentrating on her efforts to escape, Kata missed the sudden stiffening of the vampire’s body and his muffled groan.
“Is that an invitation for further exploration?” he demanded, his low voice suddenly thick with awareness. “A little blatant for my taste, but I’m willing to play.”
She told herself that it was shock that made her stomach clench and her heart race. And as for the sizzle of excitement that shot through her . . . well, that had to be anger.
Anything else would be sheer insanity.
“It’s a warning that unless you get off of me this instant I will curse your most prized possession,” she said between gritted teeth. “And I’m not talking about your sword.”
Chapter 4
Uriel glared at the woman pinned beneath him.
Nothing had gone right from the minute he’d left Victor’s lair.
He’d journeyed directly to Stonehenge only to run headlong into a brick wall.
Literally.
The damned mage had left a dozen different snares to trap the unwary. Twice Uriel had been dropped into hidden pits. The first one had been lined with bricks embedded with silver spikes that had seared away the flesh of his palms and feet before he’d managed to climb his way out. The second pit had been filled with rabid hellhounds he’d been forced to fight through to get to the door that led to the cell he could sense deep below ground.
It had taken days to heal his wounds and gather enough strength to continue his trek downward. It had taken even more days to dodge the Sylvermyst who patrolled the tunnels and then, at last, barrel his way through the heavy door.
Was it any wonder he wasn’t in the mood for surprises?
And Kata was a surprise, he grudgingly admitted.
He’d expected her beauty. She was a twin to Marika, after all, and as much as he might detest the cold-blooded bitch, no one could deny she was stunning.
But while Kata shared Marika’s glossy curls and midnight eyes set in a pale, perfect face, they had nothing in common.
Marika was cold arrogance edged with the promise of pain.
Kata was . . .
Heat and passion and the promise of endless pleasure.
He bit back another groan as she wiggled her lush, sexy body beneath him.
Dammit.
This was supposed to be a simple snag and bag.
Kata should have been playing Sleeping Beauty so he could toss her over his shoulder and get the hell out of the cramped prison. From there it was a straight shot back to Victor’s lair and wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am he was washing his hands of the unpleasant duty.
Instead she was very much awake and wiggling beneath him in a way that had him painfully aroused and a breath from ripping off her too-thin nightgown and easing the sharp hunger that had slammed into him without warning.
What was wrong with him?
Debating that pertinent question, Uriel belatedly caught the odd scent of brimstone. Jerking his head to the side he watched as a tiny female demon in a white robe crossed the cell to regard him with a mysterious smile.
“I just knew the two of you would hit it off,” she murmured, her voice a low sing-song. “But you might want to brace yourselves. We’re about to be sucked into hell.”
His brows snapped together. “What the . . .”
“Hell?” The woman smiled to reveal an impressive set of razor sharp teeth. “Yes, I just said that.”
“Who are you?” he growled, instinctively shifting so his body was shielding Kata. And how crazy was that? “Actually, let’s start off with what are you?”
“I’m Yannah. And as for what I am . . . hmmm.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “Do you believe in fairy godmothers?”
“No,” he snapped.
She sighed. “A pity.”
Beneath him, Kata used the sudden distraction to scramble free from the weight of his body, her gaze pinned on the far wall of the cell.
“Yannah,” she breathed,
“something’s happening.”
“The gateway is opening,” the tiny demon announced.
With a liquid motion Uriel was on his feet, yanking the large sword from the scabbard angled across his back.
He’d packed light when he’d left Victor’s lair. A pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, combat boots, and his weapons.
What else did a vampire need?
“Gateway?” he growled.
Yannah nodded. “To the underworld.”
Uriel glanced toward the swirling mist that was forming near the lead-lined wall.
“Christ. I told Victor this was a trap,” he muttered, whirling to point the tip of his sword in the center of Kata’s chest. “Close the gateway, witch, or I’ll carve out your heart.”
She didn’t so much as flinch, her eyes flashing with a proud fury.
“I’m a gypsy, not a witch, you dolt.”
Uriel ground his teeth, refusing to admit his fascination with the woman’s passionate courage. Dammit. The gates of hell were parting. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.
“You can call yourself the queen of England if you want, just close the damned gateway.”
“I didn’t open it.”
“Gateways to the underworld don’t just open on their own.” He pointed the sword toward the tiny Yannah. “You.”
“Not me.” Yannah wrinkled her nose. “Sergei.”
Uriel’s hand tightened on his sword, his gaze searching the small cell.
“The mage?”
“He cast a spell binding Kata to her twin,” the demon explained.
“And your point?” he prompted.
“Marika has been destroyed.”
“Good,” he said. “Someone should have chopped off the bitch’s head centuries ago.”
Kata slapped her hands on her hips. “Did you miss the part where I’m bound to my sister?”
He shrugged. “Can’t you . . . unbind yourself?”
“No.”
His gaze shifted toward Yannah who gave a sharp shake of her head.
“Don’t look at me.”
“Brilliant,” he growled, grabbing Kata’s upper arm and hauling her toward the broken door. A timely evac was obviously in order. “Let’s go.”
“Too late,” Yannah said, then with a small smile she simply disappeared.
Shit.
Uriel yanked Kata off her feet, holding her against his chest as he darted through the door, but even as he entered the tunnel leading out of the prison he knew Yannah had been right.
It was too late.
There was an unnerving sensation of electricity dancing over his skin and then the world abruptly melted around him.
Yep, there was no other way to describe it.
From one step to another the hard rock beneath his feet disappeared, along with the dirt walls of the tunnel, sending him tumbling through a choking darkness.
Uriel swore, wrapping his arms protectively around Kata as he twisted to fall backward. He didn’t know where they were going to land, but he was fairly certain it was going to hurt.
Two seconds later his worst fears were confirmed.
Not only did they hit the ground with enough force to crack several bones, but the rocks that were scattered across the stone floor were sharp enough to slice through his flesh.
Momentarily stunned, Uriel couldn’t stop Kata from scrambling out of his arms. She had a small smear of blood on her cheek, but otherwise she appeared unhurt. Thanks to him. Not that he was expecting a profusion of gratitude. Christ, she didn’t even make a token show of concern at the sight of his broken and bleeding body, instead she was rising to her feet and studying their surroundings with a barely restrained terror.
He understood her terror.
Hell lived up to its nasty reputation.
Tentatively rising to his feet, Uriel clutched his sword as his gaze scanned the vast cavern that took “bleak” to a whole new level.
Pools of red-hot lava flowed between the black, jagged rocks, the glow shimmering off the towering stalactites and stalagmites giving them the image of the teeth of some gruesome monster.
Worse, the superior senses he depended on were muted by the strange atmosphere.
He couldn’t smell a damned thing beyond the acrid stench of brimstone, his sight was limited to the cavern spread before him, and he couldn’t detect if they were alone or if there were a thousand demonic souls preparing to attack.
He had spent the last four hundred years being the predator, not the prey.
He didn’t like feeling vulnerable.
In fact, it made him downright pissy.
Just like Kata’s supreme indifference to him made him pissy.
What was wrong with the female?
He was the one forced to come rushing to her rescue despite her intimate past with a Jinn. And yet she was treating him as if he were an unwelcomed intruder, while he . . .
He what?
Uriel grimaced.
Why deny it? He was plagued with a brutal urge to protect the luscious gypsy. An urge that was nearly as powerful as his unwanted desire. Such instincts were dangerous in a vampire. It indicated a bond with the female he wasn’t prepared to accept.
He wanted to believe it was a spell. Or maybe an insidious Jinn trick.
A pity it felt so painfully real.
Frustration spilled through him. Wasn’t it bad enough he’d waltzed right into a trap that had sucked him straight into hell? Now he had to be obsessed with the woman entirely responsible for his current troubles?
Indifferent to his annoyance, Kata wound her way through the lava that could so easily destroy her fragile flesh.
“Yannah,” she called, her tone frantic. “Yannah.”
“Dammit.” Shoving his sword back into its sheath, he moved to stand at her side, barely resisting the need to snatch her into his arms. “Are you trying to attract the attention of every nasty beast in the underworld?”
“Is that where we are?” She shot him a glare, as if this was entirely his fault.
“How would I know?” Uriel cast a disgusted gaze around their noxious surroundings. “Despite popular opinion I didn’t crawl out of the pits of hell.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, her chin stuck to a defensive angle.
“Hard to believe.”
“Since you’re entirely to blame for our presence here, I wouldn’t be tossing around insults, luv.”
“I didn’t ask you to come barging into my private cell.”
“No,” he swiftly countered, “your daughter did.”
Without warning her features softened. “Laylah,” she breathed.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” she lowered her head, hiding her beautiful face behind the thick curtain of her dark hair. “I only wanted to warn her. I didn’t intend for her to endanger herself or anyone else to find me.”
He lifted his hand to brush back the glossy curls, only to yank it back.
“It no longer matters,” he gritted. “We need to find a way out.”
“Out?”
“Unless you want to stay?” he drawled. “Maybe see if they have a bus tour?”
She abruptly tilted back her head to meet his chiding gaze, appearing unbearably young. Whatever spell the mage had used to keep her alive had ensured she hadn’t aged beyond her early twenties in human years.
“Do you have to be an ass?”
“I . . .” His words choked in his throat as he noted the damp shimmer in her magnificent eyes. “Are you crying?”
“No,” she ridiculously denied, spinning toward the swirling lava. “Leave me alone.”
He should.
Victor had requested that he go in search of the captured gypsy, he hadn’t said a damned thing about protecting the female from the hordes of beasts rumored to fill the underworld.
No one would blame him if he abandoned her to her fate.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t become Victor’s right hand man by tossing aside his duty w
hen things got tough. When he started a job, he finished it.
And that’s the reason he reached out to tug her gently into his arms, his thumbs brushing away the tears that stained her cheeks.
“Kata. Shush,” he murmured. “I will find us a way out of here.” He glanced toward the distant opening across the cavern. “Or die trying.”
Her dark gaze held an unmistakable fear. “Are you sure we aren’t already dead?”
“What?”
“How can we be in the underworld if we didn’t die?”
A faint smile touched his lips as he allowed his hands to skim down the slender length of her throat.
“Warm skin, a steady pulse . . .” Barely aware he was moving, Uriel lowered his head to touch his lips to the hollow behind her ear, nuzzling the satin softness of her skin. “The scent of tiger lilies,” he husked. “I can assure you that you’re very much alive.”
“Oh.” She shuddered, the scent of her arousal perfuming the air while Uriel planted a trail of kisses to the revealing pulse at the base of her neck. “What are you doing?”
“I think I should double check,” he said, the driving pleasure in touching her overcoming his small claim to intelligence. “We can’t be too careful.”
“I warned you, vamp . . .” Kata breathed, her hands lifting to his chest. She no doubt intended to push him away, or maybe something even worse, but instead her fingers splayed over his rigid muscles, the heat of her touch searing through the thin material.
“Uriel,” he rasped.
“What?”
“My name is Uriel.”
She shivered. “Uriel.”
Chapter 5
During the long years of her imprisonment, Kata more than once skirted the edge of madness. Not only from the endless days of being trapped on the narrow cot, but from sheer loneliness.
Even with her ability to view the world through Marika and Laylah, as well as Yannah’s occasional visits, she’d been tortured by her isolation. She was a human who’d been raised by loving parents who’d been openly affectionate. To be suddenly denied the comfort of her family and loving tribe was worse than death.
She craved companionship with an aching need.
Which was the only reason she was tilting back her head to encourage his seeking lips, and why her hands were lifting to tangle in his thick curls. It was why she arched closer to the growing promise of his erection . . .