Bound By Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “ No.”

  Her brows lifted at his persistence. “I beg your pardon?”

  Santiago shrugged. “My king commanded that I find Cassandra and right now you’re my best hope. I won’t fail him.”

  She paused, studying him with a searching gaze. “He means so much to you?”

  He did.

  After Santiago had been abandoned by his maker, he had become a slave to those vampires more powerful than himself. There had been days when he truly thought he was living out his personal hell until Styx had found him and trained him to become one of Viper’s guards.

  That had changed everything.

  Suddenly he was no longer fair game for sex or sport or any other brutal pleasure that might amuse his latest master. He was treated with a dignity that had transformed him into a warrior who was never again at the mercy of another.

  Santiago would never forget.

  Never.

  “Loyalty means that much to me,” he said, unwilling to share his deep connection to his Anasso. He liked his reputation as an unfeeling bastard. It had taken him years to earn. “It’s not something I offer only when it’s convenient.”

  “Very noble.” There was a knowing glimmer in her dark eyes, as if she saw far more than he wanted. “I admire your devotion, but I must return to my brethren and ensure that we have not been betrayed.”

  “Then I go with you.”

  She looked as startled as he felt.

  “Beyond the Veil?”

  His resolve briefly faltered.

  Of all the gin joints in all the world ...

  Then his gaze skimmed over her pale, impossibly lovely face and he squared his shoulders.

  Once she disappeared there would be no means to trace her.

  “You can take me, can’t you?”

  The dark eyes narrowed with undisguised suspicion. “I could.”

  He forced a smile. “Then let’s do this thing.”

  “Why should I?”

  He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t you?”

  “You have not bothered to hide your contempt for my people.” A hint of ice coated her words. “I will not allow you to disturb their peace.”

  “Despite being a barbarian I was taught a few manners.”

  “Were you?” She blinked in blatant disbelief. “Astonishing.”

  “Do you want me to swear in blood I’ll behave myself ?”

  Her gaze never wavered, studying him as if he was a strange specimen that she might or might not keep for further study.

  Then a slow smile curved her lips.

  “Actually that will not be necessary.”

  Santiago felt his instincts stir. There was something about that beautiful smile.

  Something dangerous.

  “It won’t?”

  “No.” The smile widened. “I am perfectly capable of making sure you behave.”

  “Are you certain ...”

  His words were ripped from his lips as she grasped his arm at the same moment that she squeezed the medallion. This time, however, the world didn’t dissolve with the creepy impression of simply melting away. Instead he felt as if he were being roughly jerked through a curtain of lightning.

  Mierda.

  Darkness surrounded them, the electricity dancing over his skin and his hair floating despite the lack of a breeze. His teeth snapped together to muffle his scream, his only reality the feel of Nefri’s slender fingers still gripping his arm.

  What the hell had he gotten himself into now?

  Tearloch knew he should be sleeping.

  At the moment his loyal tribesmen were finishing their task of clearing the rubble that blocked the altar they needed to complete the ceremony. And the wizard continued to hold his spell of protection that surrounded the caves.

  What better opportunity to give his weary body time to recover?

  Instead he stood at the upper level of the caverns, glancing with a heartsick longing at the overgrown fields and the star-spattered sky he could glimpse beyond the opening.

  The darkness called to him to run free as his people were meant to do ...

  Being locked within the spiderweb of stark, unnaturally smooth passageways was like being buried alive.

  There was a faint stir of air as Rafael entered the large cave. Tearloch didn’t bother to glance in his direction. The annoying spirit was no doubt there to remind Tearloch that he dared not venture out of the range of his damned spells.

  Typically Rafael ignored Tearloch’s obvious wish to be left in peace.

  The wizard more and more often forgot he was a slave to Tearloch’s will.

  “Master,” the spirit murmured.

  “What do you want?”

  “I believe there is something you should see.”

  Tearloch turned a reluctant gaze toward the gaunt face that hovered in the shadows, a shiver of loathing inching down his spine.

  “More surprises?”

  “Please, if you would come with me?”

  Words of denial hovered on his lips.

  He was tired and his head ached.

  Could he not have an hour without having to sort out some new disaster?

  Then, knowing Rafael would remain hovering behind him like some sinister wraith of doom, he heaved a resigned sigh.

  Who knew being the leader was such a pain in the ass?

  Ariyal always made it look so easy.

  Well, maybe not easy, he conceded, vaguely recalling the hours of endless abuse at the hands of Morgana le Fey.

  But he had never complained.

  “Fine.” He turned to meet the sunken eyes that flickered with crimson fire in the shadows. “What is it?”

  The spirit gestured him to follow him back through the dark corridors, returning to the cavern where they’d spoken earlier. Once there he crossed directly toward the shallow pool in the floor, pointing a skeletal hand at the images that hovered on the surface of the water.

  “Look.”

  Tearloch was already prepared for the sight of the Sylvermyst who was standing in what looked like the middle of a barnyard.

  “Ariyal.” Regret stabbed through his heart before he was hardening himself against the sight of his brother. “I already knew he was near.”

  “But not alone.”

  Rafael gave a wave of his hand. The image scanned back to include a beautiful, raven-haired woman who paced through a human kitchen, her fingers stroking the butt of the shotgun holstered on her hip.

  “The vampire,” he breathed.

  “His lover. Such a pity,” the spirit crooned, his words dripping like poison. “She has obviously clouded his mind. They are plotting to come and kill the child.”

  Tearloch scowled. The treacherous wizard wasn’t fit to speak Ariyal’s name.

  “What does it matter? You said your powers would prevent us from being followed.”

  Rafael grimaced. “His ability to sense you is greater than I suspected. He should never have been able to follow us from London.”

  “I warned you of his power.”

  The spirit shrugged. “He couldn’t know your precise location or he would already have attacked.”

  “Then why are you bothering me?”

  “Because of this.”

  There was another wave of his hand and the scene changed, revealing the graveyard overhead. It took a second for Tearloch to notice the misty shadow that drifted toward the entrance of the caves.

  “A spirit,” he said, tensing in surprise.

  It wasn’t a full-blown apparition. Merely a ghost that was easily called and easily dismissed. Which meant that it had been conjured to gather information rather than to perform a specific task. Ghosts were incapable of taking solid form.

  “One of yours?” Rafael murmured.

  “ No.”

  “Can you get rid of it?”

  “Yes, but the moment I do then Ariyal will know that I’m here.” Tearloch pressed a hand to his aching head. “Damn. We have to leave.”

  “Wa
it.” Something in the wizard’s voice suddenly eased Tearloch’s panicked urge to flee. “Do not be so hasty. I believe we can use this to our advantage.”

  “How?”

  “The ghost is clearly approaching us as a spy.”

  “I’m not stupid,” Tearloch snapped. “I know why Ariyal conjured the ghost.”

  Rafael pressed his hands to the pendant hung about his neck, a faint smirk curving his thin lips.

  “Then why don’t we allow him to see what we want him to see?”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The babe.”

  “That’s your plan?” Tearloch’s sharp burst of laughter bounced against the polished wall of the cavern. “To lead the most powerful of all Sylvermyst and a vampire directly to the child we have risked everything to keep hidden?”

  Rafael smiled with an eerie anticipation.

  Gods. The Cheshire Cat from hell.

  “The child will merely be the bait.”

  “Bait for what?”

  “To lure the two of them to a very special section of the caverns that was specifically designed for my enemies,” the wizard explained.

  Tearloch swallowed a resigned sigh. Of course there were caverns devised to capture, and no doubt torture, the wizard’s enemies. He suspected that Rafael had been even more of a paranoid, ruthlessly brutal bastard when he’d been alive than he was dead.

  “A trap?” he demanded.

  “Precisely.”

  Tearloch hesitated, revolted by the thought of deliberately luring Ariyal into Rafael’s trap.

  It went against everything he believed.

  But what choice did he have?

  Ariyal had lost sight of the true path during their time on Avalon. Now it was Tearloch’s holy duty to restore the Sylvermyst to their former glory.

  Of course, he didn’t have to like it.

  “This had better work, wizard,” he warned. “Or we’re both on our way to hell.”

  Chapter 14

  Jaelyn paced from one end of the kitchen to the other, refusing to glance out the window where Ariyal stood in conversation with a blob of mist that hung in the air.

  It was just ... wrong.

  Who used a ghost to do recon?

  It would give any sensible demon the shivers.

  Which was why she was hiding in the kitchen instead of questioning the creature herself.

  Wasn’t it?

  Reaching the wooden table she came to an abrupt halt, heat blasting through her at the memory of being perched on the edge with her legs wrapped around Ariyal’s thrusting hips.

  She had told herself that she didn’t want to be around the creepy blob of mist, but if she was entirely honest with herself she would admit that she’d needed a few minutes away from Ariyal to try and patch back together her shattered defenses.

  Yeah, like that was going to happen anytime soon.

  She wrapped her arms around her chilled body, unable to ignore the tug of awareness nestled deep inside her.

  Dammit, she didn’t want to dwell on her connection to Ariyal.

  Even if she wanted to mate with a Sylvermyst who was as annoying as he was gorgeous, it was never going to be in the cards.

  Not only would the completion of the binding mean that Ariyal would have to commit fully to becoming her mate and exchange blood with her, but she would have to convince the Addonexus to release their best Hunter when the potential end of the world hung over them all like Damocles’s sword.

  Accepting that being alone wasn’t doing a damned thing to help, Jaelyn was relieved when Ariyal’s voice cut through her dark broodings.

  “You can come out now.”

  She moved to the door, scanning the darkness. “It’s gone? I mean gone, gone?”

  Ariyal’s lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Those remained guarded, unreadable.

  “Yes, he’s been returned to the underworld.”

  “Good.”

  “I can’t believe a vampire could be squeamish about a spirit,” he said, folding his arms over his chest as he watched her descend the wooden steps and cross the yard to join him.

  She shrugged. “The dead should be allowed to rest in peace.”

  “Moving on to the afterlife doesn’t guarantee peace, poppet. It’s a rare spirit who rests easy in their grave.”

  Well, wasn’t he a bundle of joy?

  “Have you considered the possibility that they might be perfectly content until you start messing with them?” she asked wryly. “Anyone would be cranky at being jerked out of the underworld and forced to become a slave to a fairy.”

  There was a fleeting heat in the bronzed gaze as it skimmed down her body.

  “There are some who are positively giddy to be my slave. I have that effect on women,” he murmured, as if she needed a reminder of his potent sexuality. Hell, he literally screamed sex. “And a surprising number of men.”

  “Conceited ass.”

  “Confident,” he corrected, a fleeting heat flaring through his bronzed eyes before he lowered his head to kiss her with a harsh frustration.

  For a crazed moment Jaelyn returned his ferocious kiss, her hands grasping his shoulders as she went on tiptoe to arch against the addictive heat of his bare chest.

  Then reality slammed back into her and she was pushing him away with a low, pained growl.

  “No, Ariyal.”

  He stiffly stepped backward, his expression once again indecipherable.

  “We should go.”

  “Did you discover what you needed?”

  “The spirit was able to locate Tearloch and the babe.”

  “Where?”

  He tilted his head toward the north, his hands fisted at his side.

  “A series of caverns less than three miles north of here.”

  So close?

  For no reason at all a chill inched down her spine.

  “Why do I sense this is a good-news/bad-news kind of deal?” she asked.

  “The good news is the child is currently alone in one of the caves.”

  “And the bad news?”

  “Besides Tearloch there are half-dozen Sylvermyst as well as the wizard.”

  She frowned, studying the arrogant perfection of his face. She could sense the emotions that churned beneath that careful mask, and she hated the knowledge he wanted to keep them hidden from her.

  “That was more or less what you expected, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  He silently debated her question before he at last heaved a sigh.

  “I don’t know.”

  She arched a brow. “Maybe you can be a little more vague?”

  “I think you should stay... .”

  “ No.”

  His eyes blazed with a bronzed fury. “Dammit, Jaelyn, there’s a very good possibility that this is a trap.”

  “All the more reason you need me to go with you.”

  “You were trained better than that, Hunter,” he rasped. “If I don’t return then you must alert your Oracles that I have failed and that Tearloch will soon use the child to resurrect the Dark Lord.”

  He was right.

  If her current task was to retrieve the child and save the world from the Dark Lord, then she would have to concede that it was preferable for one of them to sneak into the caverns while the other waited to determine if it was a trap.

  But she had been charged with staying near Ariyal and keeping track of his movements.

  Which in this moment suited her just fine.

  “They aren’t my Oracles,” she denied.

  “We aren’t going to argue about this.” He slashed a hand through the air, looking every inch a prince. “The only sensible plan is for me to try and rescue the child while you find a sun-proof location to wait out the approaching day.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t? Don’t you mean won’t?”

  The air smoldered with the force of
his barely restrained power.

  Jaelyn stood her ground. “No, I mean I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to remain with you.” She met his gaze squarely. “That’s all I can say.”

  She braced herself for Ariyal’s explosion of anger. Even a threat to lock her in the cellar and leave her to rot.

  Instead he held on to his grim control, taking a deliberate step backward.

  Not that he needed to.

  Jaelyn could feel the mental barriers he was erecting between them without the physical demonstration.

  “And you accuse me of being vague.”

  She wanted to ... what? Plead for his understanding? Demand to know if he thought this was fun and games for her?

  She hadn’t asked to become a pawn for the Oracles, had she? Or to become entangled with the one male in the entire world who treated her as if she was something more than a killing machine.

  And she certainly hadn’t asked for her emotions to be stripped bare after decades of believing they had been efficiently destroyed.

  “I don’t have a choice,” she ineffectively muttered.

  “Of course not.” A humorless smile curved his lips. “Tell me, poppet, if I weren’t your current duty would you already have taken off?”

  Well, he certainly wanted his pound of flesh.

  She fingered her shotgun, shifting beneath his bleak gaze. She’d rather be skinned alive than to continue this agonizing conversation.

  “Being a Hunter means I must go where I am commanded to go.”

  “And that truly does put me in my place, doesn’t it?”

  With liquid grace Ariyal turned on his heel and headed across the barnyard, his spine stiff and his head held at a proud angle.

  “Shit.”

  A brutal pain seared through Jaelyn as she forced herself to watch him walk away.

  As much as she might ache to follow, she forced herself to remain standing alone in the darkness.

  She didn’t know jack squat about men, but she did know that you didn’t poke at a lethal predator when he was licking his wounds.

  Even if they were just superficial.

  Ariyal wasn’t a vampire, after all.

  And she doubted that Sylvermyst mated for life.

  In a day or two she would be a bad memory that he could tuck away with those of Morgana le Fey.