Chapter 21
Santiago didn’t know why he was so discombobulated (who the hell would have thought he would use such a prissy-ass word, even in the privacy of his mind?). He’d known from the moment he’d crossed paths with Nefri that she was more than just a powerful clan chief.
It was impossible to miss the fact that she was far superior to others.
But his overriding bitterness at Gaius’s defection behind the Veil had made him ignore his instinct to treat her as a rare treasure. Then, even worse, his male desire had kicked in. It’d insisted that he deny the knowledge that this female was far too good for a former Gladiator who was more comfortable among the dregs of society than royalty.
And she
was
royalty, even if she didn’t carry the title of queen.
A fact hammered home with painful clarity as the vampires and a handful of fey crowded around her in speechless awe. Even among the most aristocratic members of society she was a VIP.
Hell, they barely gave her enough space to sip the blood that was brought to her in a Baccarat crystal glass on a silver tray. Oh, and then there’d been the scramble among females to assure Nefri they’d have fresh clothing sent from the most exclusive designers, clearly hoping to use this accidental meeting with the Great Nefri to inflate their own standing.
After a torturous hour of watching the crowd fawn over the always gracious Nefri, Gabriel at last led them down the stairs to the hidden tunnels beneath the building.
The club didn’t encourage guests to linger during the daylight hours, but there were always spare rooms. Of course, unlike Santiago’s humble establishment, these rooms were the size of most apartments and decorated in soothing shades of gray and silver.
Discreet, expensive, and sophisticated.
Escorting them into the sitting room with a low, velvet sofa and hand-carved coffee table, Gabriel placed a hand over his heart and offered a deep bow. “You’re certain you have everything you need?”
“Absolutely,” Nefri assured him with a warm smile. “This is lovely.”
“Just hit the zero on the phone if you want room service,” Gabriel said, the jaded vampire clearly dazzled by Nefri. “Anything.”
“I will.”
There was a long pause, as if Gabriel was having difficulty tearing himself away, then with a last dip of his head, he backed out of the room and closed the door.
A thick silence filled the air as Santiago moved to the wet bar that came complete with his favorite tequila.
Pouring a large shot, he downed it in one gulp. On the point of pouring another, he was halted when Nefri laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“Santiago?”
His fingers tightened on the glass before he was setting it aside and turning to meet her worried gaze.
“Sí?”
“What’s bothering you?”
He shrugged, wishing he’d managed a couple more shots before she’d interfered. He was feeling . . . raw. “Nothing.”
Her brows snapped together. “You’ve barely said a word since we’ve arrived. And you have that”—she gave a wave of her hand—“that broody male thing going on.”
He arched a brow. “Broody male thing?”
“You know what I mean.” She searched his guarded expression. “Something is obviously bothering you.”
“I told you . . . it’s nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I thought it was a woman’s prerogative to pretend she’s not upset when she clearly is.”
“Ouch,” he muttered.
She moved a step closer, wrapping him in her sweet jasmine scent. “Please, tell me.”
He grimaced. Dammit. He wasn’t a “touchy feely” kind of vampire under the best of circumstances. Unless it was in bed. When his emotions were involved he became as articulate as a grunting orc.
“I sometimes forget,” he eventually muttered.
“Forget what?”
“That you are who you are.”
“Who I am?”
“You’re Nefri,” he said. “A creature of myth and legend.”
She blinked in confusion. “Are you speaking in code?”
He reached up to yank the leather tie from his hair, ramming his fingers through the thick strands in an effort to relieve the tension throbbing in his head. It didn’t help.
“Vampires all over this world would worship at your feet,” he said, his voice rough. “Hell, you’re treated like a queen by a dragon.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“No, it’s the truth.”
Her lips thinned, as if she was annoyed by his words. “Fine, let’s say for argument’s sake that you’re right. What does that have to do with why you’re treating me like I carry the plague?”
“You are . . .” He struggled for the words.
“What?”
“Way out of my league,” he finally managed to say, expressing the fear that burned deep in his soul.
Without warning Nefri was slapping a hand across his mouth, her eyes snapping with anger. “Don’t you dare.”
He grasped her wrist and gently tugged her fingers from his face. Now that he’d started, he intended to finish.
“We can’t ignore the truth,
querida
.”
“The truth is that I’m just a vampire with all the flaws and weaknesses of any other,” she claimed, even as she stood there in a blaze of glorious beauty. “I’ve already told you that the Oracles spread rumors to disguise the truth of why they created the Veil.”
He shook his head. Where was she going with this? “And?”
“And the rumors expanded to include me and my clan when we left this world.”
“Your power is no rumor. And neither is your beauty,” he countered. “Gabriel would have sliced open his throat if he thought it would please you.”
Her lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Not me. His vision of who he thinks I am, or at least who I should be.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, a white fang nibbling on the fullness of her lower lip. He stifled a groan at the memory of those cherry lips skimming down his body. He was supposed to be concentrating on the reasons to keep this female at a distance, not dwelling on the devastating pleasure she’d given him.
“Perhaps it’s my fault. Over the centuries it suited me to play the role of the aloof, mysterious clan chief. If people feared me, then it allowed my clan to live in peace away from our enemies.”
He stilled, bothered by the sense that she was apologizing for some sin she’d never committed. At least not as far as he was concerned. “You did what was necessary,” he growled.
“I did more than was necessary.”
“More?”
“I not only used my legendary reputation to keep my enemies at a distance, but everyone.”
He hesitated. He’d been well aware of the distance she kept between herself and others. But he hadn’t been certain if it had been on purpose or simply a defense mechanism.
“Why?”
She held his gaze, for the first time allowing him to truly see the ancient betrayal smoldering in her dark eyes. “Because then I could be absolutely certain no one would ever again use me as a tool for their own gain.”
Before he could halt the need to touch her, Santiago reached to gently cup her face in his hands. “I understand,
cara
. I truly do.”
She nodded. He was one of the few demons who actually could make the claim.
“I was satisfied with my choices until . . .”
“Until?”
“You.”
He flinched at the blunt answer, not sure whether to sink to his knees in gratitude or shake some sense into her.
In the end he simply regarded her with a desperate hope. “What does that mean?”
“You reminded me that I’m more than a clan chief,” she said in low, husky tones. “I’m a woman.”
A groan escaped his lips as his gaze lowered to the slender curves that emphatically proclaimed her womanhood. “Yes, you are.”
Her hands lifted to rest on his shoulders. “A very lonely woman who was too cowardly to risk sharing herself.”
He muttered a curse. Just for a few minutes, he’d been determined to do the right thing. To stop his compulsive need to blast through her wary shields and instead return to his role of a protector. Nothing, after all, was more important than making sure they halted Gaius and the mysterious spirit before they could create even more havoc.
Now, his resolve faltered.
Because of the edge of vulnerability in her voice?
Or because he was a selfish bastard who urgently wanted to believe she needed him with the same intensity he needed her?
“Why me?” he murmured.
A hint of amusement drove the shadows from her eyes. “Are you seeking compliments?”
His thumb rubbed her lower lip. “I won’t say no to any you want to offer.”
“Hmmm.” She pretended to consider her words. “For one thing, you’re the only vampire I’ve met who is too stubborn to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
“That’s your compliment?” he complained. “I’m stubborn?”
Her smile widened, revealing a sexy hint of fang. “Your ego doesn’t need for me to tell you that you’re impossibly gorgeous and so sexy that females melt whenever you walk past them.”
Desire roared through him, searing away his futile attempt at sanity. “That’s better,” he murmured. “Tell me more about how I make you melt.”
Her smile faded, leaving behind an achingly somber expression. “I have no words that explain why it was you, Santiago. It’s more than your courage and loyalty and the goodness in your heart that you try to hide.” Her hands slid over his chest, the light caress sending lightning bolts of pleasure through his clenched body. “It is—and always will be—you.”
The world came to a complete, perfect halt.
She captured the truth in those seven simple words.
It defined his very existence.
The knowledge exploded through him with a nuclear force. Bright and shiny and soul shattering.
“
Sí
. I was created to be yours, but . . .”
“Ssh.” She pressed a finger to his lips, the tantalizing scent of her jasmine arousal spicing the air. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
He shuddered, unable to resist temptation.
Not that he tried very hard.
“You do possess mystical powers,” he rasped, sweeping her off her feet as he went in search of the bedroom. “You just read my mind.”
Styx’s lair in Chicago
Roke didn’t think it was possible that the night, which was already in the crapper, could get any worse.
Tough to top being mated against his will.
But less than an hour after Sally headed to the kitchen to begin brewing her spell and Roke had gone to the gym to work off his seething frustration, he returned to Styx’s study to discover the Anasso throwing his cell phone across the room.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that the latest news wasn’t good, but even forewarned Roke was caught with his mouth hanging open as Styx shared the latest update.
Santiago and Nefri had not only spent the day in the lair of a dragon (a dragon, for Christ’s sake), but Santiago discovered that Gaius might be in the power of the ultimate vampire who was spreading violent emotions like a plague so he could feed.
Perfect.
Just perfect.
Folding his arms over his chest, he waited for Styx to halt his pacing, impervious to the flickering electricity and shattering chandelier.
At least the house was still standing.
“Do you want me to join Santiago?” he at last demanded. “He’s obviously going to need all the help he can get.”
The towering Aztec gave a decisive shake of his head, the turquoise ornaments in his long braid glinting in the splintered light. “Not until we know more about this creature and its powers. I don’t intend to turn my people into fodder for another crazed deity,” he snarled, pausing to study Roke with an unnervingly piercing gaze. “And I doubt you could leave even if you wanted to.”
“Don’t be—” Roke snapped his lips together as his powers instinctively tested his bond with Sally, making sure that she was still near and unharmed. It was an unconscious reflex, but one that he did on a regular basis. Which proved Styx was right. “Shit.”
Styx held his frustrated glare. “For now you need to concentrate on yourself.”
Infuriated by the constant reminder that he was well and truly trapped, Roke slammed a door on his bond with Sally, momentarily succeeding in blunting his awareness of her.
It wouldn’t last more than a few minutes. But it was a tiny win for his ravaged pride.
“I knew that witch was going to be trouble,” he muttered, a bitterness edging his words. “Of course, all women are trouble in one way or another.”
Styx blinked, as if startled by his vehemence. “You don’t like women? Hell, I never considered the possibility.”
Roke snorted. He wasn’t offended. Immortality meant vampires who weren’t mated often experimented with different genders, different species, and a wide variety of sexual appetites.
“I’m physically attracted to females,” he corrected Styx.
“Good,” Styx said. “Not that I give a damn one way or another, but the female will be bound to you until we can find a way to break the mating. You don’t need any additional”—he searched for a word to cover the hideous situation—“confusion.”
“Confusion?” It was Roke’s turn to pace from one end of the office to the other. “It’s a fucking nightmare.”
Styx grimaced. “We’ll find a way to free you from the witch.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Easy, Roke,” Styx murmured.
Abruptly Roke realized his anger was causing the floor to shake beneath their feet. Unlike some vampires, his own powers had little effect on electrical objects, but he could cause significant structural damage if he lost control.
With a grim effort, he leashed his powers. That didn’t, however, ease his frustration, which threatened to combust at the least provocation.