Bound By Darkness (6 page)

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Authors: Alexandra Ivy

BOOK: Bound By Darkness
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“He left? Do you know where he was headed?”
His lips twisted. “South.”
Her annoyance intensified. “You know what I mean. I find it hard to believe he would willingly leave behind the baby after he went postal trying to track it down.”
Ariyal had been equally startled when he'd caught sight of Tearloch's slender form hurrying away from the townhouse. He had even taken a step to follow him, when he realized that the Sylvermyst was alone.
He'd melted back into the shadows, forcing himself to recall that he was there to steal the baby, not confront his tribesman.
“If it was me, I would be seeking allies,” he shared his assumption. “Tearloch's crazy, not stupid, and he has to know that we'll be coming after him. And once word gets out he's in London with the child ...”
She shuddered. “Yeah, every nasty demon with delusions of grandeur is going to be trying to get their hands on the kid.”
“Which is why we're going to be first in line.”
“We?”
He met her mocking smile with a lift of his brow. “You're the one who followed me, remember?”
“Unfortunately.”
His gaze drifted down her slender body. “Then we're in this together.”
“Fine.” She snapped her fingers before his face until he returned his attention to her frustrated glare. “What's your plan?”
Plan?
Hell, he hadn't had a plan since following his former prince into the mists of Avalon.
Look how that had turned out.
Now he preferred to stumble from one disaster to another.
“Is the mage alone?”
She again allowed her powers to search through the darkness. “I don't sense anyone else.”
“Then let's do this.” He moved to stand directly before the door, holding out a hand as Jaelyn stepped to stand at his side. “Wait.”
“A spell?”
“Yes.”
The sharp chill of her frustration filled the air. “I hate mages.”
He ran his hand over the door, testing the magic that kept it sealed shut.
“It's one of defense, not offense.”
“Are you certain?”
“It's either an alarm system or a curse. Difficult to say.” He stepped back, flashing a taunting smile toward his companion. “Ladies first.”
“That's not funny.”
Pulling her away from the door, he led them toward the back garden.
“Trust me, poppet, I don't intend to let anything happen to you,” he murmured, flashing a wicked smile. “At least not until I've had my fill.”
She bared her fangs. “Are you
trying
to make me kill you?”
A hot, urgent need hardened his cock. Shit, what was wrong with him?
For all he knew Jaelyn was just waiting for the opportunity to force him back to the Commission.
Or to rip out his throat.
But beneath her prickling aggression he could smell the sweet tang of her matching arousal, and the need to press her against the wet bricks and plunge deep into her body until they were both screaming with satisfaction was becoming an overwhelming compulsion.
“I just can't seem to resist,” he confessed with a stark honesty that scared the hell out of him.
 
 
Caine's private lair outside Chicago
 
Santiago stood outside the brick farmhouse with a grim expression.
He was an impressive sight with his black jeans that clung to a tight butt and long muscular legs and a black T-shirt that was stretched over his broad chest. His face was narrow with high cheekbones and his eyes the deep brown of his Spanish ancestors. He was exquisitely handsome with long, raven hair that was left to fall in a perfect curtain down his back.
But it took only a glance to know precisely what he was.
A trained vampire warrior who would kill without mercy.
Which might have explained why the coven of witches who'd been bustling about the cur's lair for the past two nights had been torn between sexual fascination and abject terror when he strolled past.
That and the big-ass sword he had strapped to his back.
Santiago barely noticed the females as they chanted and brewed and lit their candles.
Like all vampires he detested magic.
Unfortunately, Styx had commanded that Santiago find his mate's missing sister.
And when the Anasso commanded, a wise vampire obeyed.
Even if it meant calling upon the local coven to break through the layers of hexes, curses, and other nasty magical traps that had been laid around the farmhouse.
Of course, he hadn't expected it to take the witches so long to breach the protective layers around the house, he acknowledged with a flare of impatience.
He'd been told the cur was paranoid. Hardly surprising considering the fact he'd made a deal with a zombie Were with ties to a demon lord. And now he had Cassandra to protect.
A true prophet.
The rarest creature to walk the earth.
It was a task he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.
Still, Santiago was damned tired of waiting for the witches to do their mumbo-jumbo crap and get him inside.
As if on cue a tall, silver-haired woman dressed in a neat black skirt and white shirt warily approached him. She looked as if she should be handing out loans in a bank, not brewing potions as she waved her heavily jeweled hand toward the house.
“We've cleared a path to the door.”
Santiago studied the double line of candles that led from the hedges to the front door. Despite the late-summer breeze that stirred the night air the flames stood at stiff attention, not so much as flickering.
He grimaced.
Madre Dios.
He hated magic.
“You're certain it's safe?”
“It should be so long as you remain between the candles.”
“And the house?”
She patted her neatly coiffed hair. “There's nothing we can detect inside, but I can't make any guarantees.”
Santiago pulled the sword from the leather sheath. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”
The woman paled, taking a hasty step backward. As if the shiny sword was more dangerous than his massive fangs, or his claws that could rip through steel.
“You should also know that the barrier we've formed will only last until the candles burn down,” she said in a trembling voice. “You won't have more than an hour.”
“Magic,” he muttered.
Ignoring the females who scurried out of his way, Santiago forced his reluctant feet to carry him past the hedge and onto the narrow pathway. He refused to hesitate as he moved forward, climbing the steps to the wraparound porch and pulling open the heavy oak door.
If he was going to be skewered by some nasty spell, tiptoeing around wasn't going to help.
Of course, it wasn't until he had the door shut and he was standing inside the large living room with white plaster walls and open beamed ceiling that he managed to loosen his death grip on the sword.
He didn't fear death in battle. But the thought of being struck down by some unnatural force was enough to give any vampire nightmares.
With a disgusted shake of his head, Santiago turned his attention to his surroundings.
He had no interest in the rustic furniture upholstered in blue-and-white-checked linen, or the hand-carved banister that led to the second floor. Instead he moved directly to the heavy rolltop desk to sort through the various drawers.
Most of the papers were indecipherable scratchings, reminding Santiago that Caine had been a notable chemist before his transformation. A fact that was reinforced by the leather-bound books that lined the towering bookshelves. Only a scientist could appreciate
Stratospheric Sink for Chlorofluoromethane
or
Introduction to Quantum Mechanics.
Finding nothing that might hint at where he could find the missing Weres, and more importantly, discovering no sign of any intruders, Santiago made his way through the spotless kitchen and up the staircase. Although the scent of the couple was spread throughout the house, his senses were acute enough to pick out their last trail.
He cautiously moved down the hallway to a large bedroom with a heavy, walnut bed that had been carved by wood sprites and walls painted a soft shade of ivory. He halted in the center of the hardwood floor.
Here.
In this precise spot the two had disappeared.
Santiago crouched down to inspect the floor, searching for any indications of a struggle. His fingers had barely touched the wood when he felt a burst of frigid power and he was surging to his feet.
Vampire.
And close.
Spinning around with a low growl, he had his sword poised for a death blow, only to hesitate at the sight of the female framed in the doorway.
Dios.
She was ... magnificent.
Despite working in a vampire club that was renowned for offering the world's most beautiful demons as entertainment, he was struck speechless.
She was tall and lithe, with dark hair that fell to her waist. Her face was a perfect, pale oval with eyes as dark as ebony and elegantly carved features. Her lips were full and tinted the color of cherries, and just looking at them made Santiago as hard as granite.
His bemused gaze skimmed lower, taking in the dark robes that draped over her full breasts and the ancient gold medallion that was hung around her neck. Farther down, the folds of the silk hinted at long legs and offered a glimpse of her dainty feet encased in silk slippers.
She should have looked matronly in the outfit, like a staid old professor.
Instead she looked ... hot as hell.
A damned shame there was a good chance he was going to have to kill her.
Seemingly unaware of the danger shimmering in the air, the female strolled forward, studying Santiago with an unreadable expression.
“They are not here.”
Her voice was low and throaty, flowing over Santiago with a startling power.
“
Mierda
,” he breathed, an unfamiliar unease trickling down his spine. “Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I presume you are here to find the seer?”
“I asked you a question,” he snapped.
She stiffened and Santiago smothered a curse as a crushing pressure surrounded him, warning him that he was right to be unnerved by her presence.
She had enough power to rival Styx.
Something he would have claimed impossible of any vampire only a few seconds ago.
“Take care, Santiago,” she purred.
He wisely shifted backward, lowering the sword that was all but useless against a vampire of her strength.
“How do you know my name?” he demanded.
There was a short pause, as if she was considering whether or not to answer his question. Then she gave a faint shrug.
“I am well acquainted with your sire.”
Santiago hissed. No one knew of his sire. It was something he refused to discuss with anyone.
Including Viper, who was his clan chief and closest friend.
“Impossible.” He glared at the vampire with a savage suspicion. “Gaius went beyond the Veil centuries ago.”
She offered a slow nod. “He is a most welcome member of our small clan. Indeed, he sits upon the Grand Council.”
Santiago took another step backward as realization slammed into him with painful force.
“You're an Immortal One,” he rasped.
“I am.”
His gaze lowered to the medallion hung about her neck.
“Nefri.”
“Yes.”
Well, it all made a revolting sense now.
The female's ability to make a sudden appearance. Her outrageous power. Her knowledge of his sire. Her formal pattern of speech.
Immortal Ones were vampires who had left the world centuries ago to create a clan within another dimension where they were allowed to exist without the primitive passions that plagued this world.
No hunger, no thirst, no lust.
Just endless days of tedious peace they devoted to studying in their vast libraries and meditating in their supposedly endless gardens.

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