Lian/Roch (Bayou Heat) (21 page)

Up on his hands and knees and headed for the lower half of her body, looking as near to his puma as possible in his male form, Roch snarled sensually at her.

“I say we seal this with a kiss,” he uttered, his breath near her belly now.”

“My lips are up here, Roch,” she said breathlessly, watching him, waiting.

His eyes went heavy lidded as he grasped her inner thighs and splayed them wide. “Not the lips I’m hungry for at the moment.”

And as he proved that statement, all Lydia could do was sigh.

Epilogue

Three days later

“Rosalie is home, but Mercier is dead,” Raphael said to the small group of Hunters, Suits and Nurturers who were gathered in his office at Diplomatic headquarters. It was night, and they’d been at it for hours. “And our Hunters inside Haymore haven’t reported back.”

Sebastian cursed. “This new enemy is worse than the last.”

“But what is it they want?” Genevieve asked, nonplussed.

“Our DNA,” Roch said, glancing around the dimly lit room with its half empty plates and endless water bottles. “We don’t know why yet. What they hope to use it for. But it has something to do with that Stanton Locke and the mysterious man he cares for. As you know, my mate is an attorney and she’s calling all her contacts, trying to get a hold of Stanton’s financial dealings. What, how much, with whom.”

“Please stop saying that bastard’s name,” Keira ground out from her spot on the edge of Raphael’s desk. “Do you know what he said when the cops hauled me away? ‘Pantera are dangerous creatures.’ He wants us all rounded up so human society can be safe.”

“That piece of shit will come to know how unsafe we are,” Xavier muttered. He turned to Raphael. “What do we do?”

The leader of the Suits looked at each one of them and sighed. “Maybe it’s time to get on camera and speak. Tell the truth. Let the humans see us.”

A slate grey puma burst into the room and snarled at the lot of them. In seconds, it shifted and revealed a very pissed-off Parish.

“What is it?” Raphael demanded.

“The elders are with Hiss, as he asked,” the leader of the Hunters said with a sneer. “They are giving him the chance to confess what he knows.”

“The three are visiting a prisoner?” Keira exclaimed, coming to her feet. “What the hell is happening?”

“Oh,” Parish continued. “And we have photographers at our borders.”

Calmly, every bit the formidable Diplomat he was, Raphael stood up and walked out from behind his desk. “Roch, I’ll need to borrow your tie. Looks like our time on camera has come sooner than we thought.”

About the Author

New York Times
and
USA Today
best selling author
Laura Wright
has spent most of her life immersed in acting, singing and competitive ballroom dancing. When she found the world of writing and books and endless cups of coffee, she knew she was home. Laura is the author of the Mark of the Vampire series, Bayou Heat series, Wicked Ink Chronicles, and the upcoming Cavanaugh Brothers series. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young children, and three lovable dogs. Visit her website at
laurawright.com
.

Other Books by Laura Wright

Mark of the Vampire

Book 1: Eternal Hunger

Book 2: Eternal Kiss

Book 2.5: Eternal Blood (Especial)

Book 3: Eternal Captive

Book 4: Eternal Beast

Book 4.5: Eternal Beauty (Especial)

Book 5: Eternal Demon

Book 6: Eternal Sin

Bayou Heat Series

Bayou Heat Raphael & Parish

Book #1 and #2 in the Bayou Heat Series

Bayou Heat Bayon & Jean-Baptiste

Book #3 and #4 in the Bayou Heat Series

Bayou Heat Talon & Xavier

Book #5 and #6 in the Bayou Heat Series

Bayou Heat Sebastian & Aristide

Book #7 and #8 in the Bayou Heat Series

Wicked Ink Chronicles

First Ink

Shattered Ink

Excerpt from 

Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

Guardians of Eternity Series

Hunt the Darkness (Book 1?)

Released May 28, 2014

Chapter 1

Northern Canada

Roke hadn’t yet given into his overwhelming desire to commit gargoyle-cide.

But it was a near thing.

Roke was anti-social by nature, and having to endure the endless chatter from a stunted gargoyle for the past three weeks had been nothing short of torture.

It was only the fact that Levet could sense Yannah, the demon who’d helped Sally flee from Chicago, that kept him from sending the annoying twit back to Styx.

His mating connection to Sally meant that he could sense her, but with Yannah’s ability to teleport from one place to another in a blink of an eye meant by the time he could locate her, she was already gone.

Levet seemed to have a more direct connection to Yannah, although they still spent their nights chasing from one place to another, always one step behind them.

Until tonight.

With a small smile he came to a halt, allowing his senses to flow outward.

The sturdy cottage tucked on the eastern coast of British Columbia was perched to overlook the churning waves of the North Pacific Ocean. Built from the gray stones that lined the craggy cliffs it had a steep, metal roof to shed the heavy snowfalls and windows that were already shuttered against the late autumn breeze. A handful of outhouses surrounded the bleak property, but it was far enough away from civilization to avoid prying eyes.

Not that prying eyes could have detected him.

Leaving his custom-built turbine powered motorcycle hidden in the distant town, Roke was dressed in black. Black jeans, black tee and black leather jacket with a pair of knee high moccasins that allowed him to move in lethal silence.

With his bronzed skin and dark hair that brushed his broad shoulders, he blended into the darkness with ease. Only his eyes were visible.

Although silver in color, they were so pale they appeared white in the moonlight, and rimmed by a circle of pure black.

Over the centuries those eyes had unnerved the most savage demons. No one liked the sensation that their soul was being laid bare.

On the other hand, his lean, beautiful features that were clearly from Native American origins had been luring women to his bed since he’d awoken as a vampire.

They sighed beneath the touch of his full, sensual lips and eagerly pressed to the lean, chiseled perfection of his body. Their fingers traced the proud line of his nose, the wide brow, and his high cheekbones.

It didn’t matter that most considered him as cold and unfeeling as a rattlesnake. Or that he would sacrifice anything or anyone to protect his clan.

They found his ruthless edge…exciting.

All except one notable exception.

A damned shame that exception happened to be his mate.

Roke grimaced.

No. Not mate.

Or at least, not in the traditional sense.

Three weeks ago he’d been in Chicago when the demon-world had battled against the Dark Lord. They’d managed to turn back the hordes of hell, but instead of allowing him to return to his clan in Nevada, Styx, the Anasso (King of all Vampires) had insisted that he remain to babysit Sally Grace, a witch who’d fought with the Dark Lord.

Roke had been furious.

Not only was he desperate to return to his people, but he hated witches.

All vampires did.

Magic was the one weapon they had no defense against.

Regrettably, when Styx gave an order, a wise vampire jumped to obey.

The alternative wasn’t pretty.

Of course, at the time none of them had realized that Sally was half demon. Or that she would panic at being placed in the dungeons beneath Styx’s elegant lair.

He absently rubbed his inner forearm where the mating mark was branded into his skin.

The witch claimed that she was simply trying to enchant him long enough to convince him to help her escape. And after his initial fury at realizing her demon magic had somehow ignited the mating bond, Roke had grudgingly accepted it had been an accident.

What he hadn’t accepted was her running off to search for the truth of her father.

Dammit.

It was her fault they were bound together.

She had no right to slip away like a thief in the night.

“Do you sense anyone?”

The question was spoken in a low voice that was edged with a French accent, jerking Roke out of his dark broodings. Glancing downward, he ruefully met his companion’s curious gaze

What the hell had happened to his life?

A mate that wasn’t a mate. A three foot gargoyle side-kick. And a clan that had been without their chief for far too long.

“She’s there,” he murmured, his gaze skimming over the creature’s ugly mug. Levet had all the usual gargoyle features. Gray skin, horns, a small snout, and a tail he kept lovingly polished. It was only his delicate wings and diminutive size that marked him as different. Oh, and his appalling lack of control over his magic. He turned back to the cottage where he could catch the distinctive scent of peaches. A primitive heat seared through him, drawing him forward. “I have you, little witch.”

Scampering to keep up with his long, silent strides, Levet tugged at the hem of his jacket.

“Umm…Roke?”

“Not now, gargoyle,” Roke never paused as he made his way toward the back of the cottage. “I’ve spent the past three weeks being led around like a damned hound on the leash. I intend to savor the moment.”

“While you’re savoring, I hope that you will recall Sally must have a good reason for—”

“Her reason is to drive me nuts,” Roke interrupted, pausing at the side of shed. “I promised her that we would go in search of her father. Together.”

“
Oui
. But when?”

Roke clenched his teeth. “In case you’ve forgotten, she nearly died when the—”

“Vampire-god.”

Roke grimaced. The creature that they’d so recently battled might have claimed to be the first vampire, but that didn’t make him a god. The bastard had nearly killed Sally in an attempt to break the magic that held him captive.

“When the ancient spirit attacked her,” he snapped. “She should be grateful that I was willing to wait for her to regain her strength.”

Levet cleared his throat. “And that is the only reason you tried to keep her imprisoned?”

“She wasn’t imprisoned,” he denied, refusing to recall his panic when Sally had lain unconscious for hours.

Or his fierce reluctance to allow Sally to leave Styx’s lair.

“
Non
?” Levet clicked his tongue, seemingly oblivious to how close Roke was to yanking that tongue out of his mouth. “I would have sworn she was locked in the dungeons.”

“Not after Gaius was destroyed.”

“You mean after she saved the world from the vampire-god?” the gargoyle taunted. “Generous of you.”

Oh yeah. The tongue was going to have to go.

“Don’t push me, gargoyle,” he muttered, allowing his senses to spread outward.

He would deal with the aggravating gargoyle later.

Testing the air, he caught the scent of salty foam as waves crashed against the rocks below, the acrid tang of smoke from the chimney and a distant perfume of a water sprite playing among the whales.

But overriding it all was that tantalizing aroma of warm peaches.

A potent aphrodisiac that once again compelled him forward.

Levet grabbed his back pocket. “Where are you going?”

Roke didn’t miss a step as he swatted the pest away. “To get my mate.”

“I do not believe that is a good idea.”

“Thankfully I don’t give a shit what you think.”

“
Très bien
,” the gargoyle sniffed. “You are the bossy-pants.”

“Boss. I’m the boss,” Roke muttered, heading directly for the back door.

He’d officially run out of patience twenty one days and several thousand miles ago.

Which would explain why he didn’t even consider the fact Sally might be prepared for his arrival.

Less than a foot from the back steps he was brought to a painful halt as an invisible net of magic wrapped around him, the bands of air so tight they would have sliced straight through him if he’d been human.