Darkness Avenged (Guardians of Eternity) (23 page)

“This is . . .”

“A nightmare,” Styx murmured. “I got that.”

Roke clenched his fists, his gaze trained on the glass cabinet that held Styx’s priceless collection of ancient scrolls. “Did you know my previous clan chief?” he asked abruptly. He could sense Styx’s confusion.

“Gunnar occasionally petitioned my master, but he tended to be a recluse when he visited. I doubt I exchanged half a dozen words with him,” Styx at last admitted. “Why?”

Roke had to force the words past his stiff lips. Speaking about his former clan chief was always difficult. Even after all these years. “When Gunnar allowed me to join his clan he was a stable leader who demanded obedience, but treated us with a justice rarely found in those days.”

“You were fortunate.”

“I was,” Roke agreed. Before the previous Anasso had taken control, vampires had been little better than savage beasts who brutalized one another as easily as they brutalized lesser demons. It was nothing less than a miracle to find a clan that respected one another. “Until Gunnar found his mate.”

“Many clan chiefs are mated.”

Roke curled his lip. “Not to a female who is so vain and needy that she demands constant attention.”

“This mate was a vampire?” Styx demanded.

“Yes, but very weak,” he explained, not bothering to disguise his disgust for the female who’d destroyed so much. “Her only true power was her beauty and she used it like a weapon to get her way. Gunnar went from being a strong, decisive leader of a clan no one would dare to attack, to a slave to his lusts who spent so much time pandering to his female we lost everything.”

He sensed it as Styx moved to stand at his side. “Everything?”

He gave a restless shrug. “The mines that made our wealth were allowed to be overrun with humans and the majority of our land was taken by a rival vampire clan, along with our best warriors.”

“What happened to Gunnar?”

Roke hesitated. The history of his clan wasn’t a secret. But the ultimate fate of Gunnar was something that was never discussed.

Not by anyone.

“While I traveled to enter the battles of Durotriges he was killed when his lair was struck by lightning and burned to the ground.” He reluctantly turned to meet Styx’s unwavering gaze. “Or that was the story I was given.”

Predictably the older vampire pounced on his suggestive words. “You don’t believe it?”

“I made no secret of the fact that if I survived the battles I intended to challenge Gunnar to become the chief.” He grimaced. “I fear . . .”

Styx laid a hand on his shoulder. “Roke?”

The memory of his beloved sire burned through his brain. The female vampire had been a wisewoman before being turned, and while she had no memory of her past, she possessed an unshakable belief in mystic portents.

Including an omen that she’d read the night Roke was turned.

She’d claimed that it meant that Roke would one day be a great leader.

He’d always humored the ancient vampire, never suspecting she might take matters into her own hands.

At least not until Gunnar was dead.

“I suspect that someone made certain there wouldn’t be any chance of me losing that challenge,” he grudgingly admitted.

Thankfully Styx didn’t press for answers Roke had no intention of giving. Instead he gave Roke’s shoulder an understanding squeeze. “That’s why you’ve been so anxious to return to your people,” he said, his words a statement, not a question.

Roke nodded. “I swore when they made me their chief I would devote myself to protecting them. Instead I’ve abandoned them.”

“You didn’t abandon them,” Styx interrupted him, his hawkish features unyielding. “I forced you to remain in Chicago.”

“The result is the same. They’re without their leader,” Roke pointed out in sour tones, refusing to console himself with the knowledge he’d left them in perfectly capable hands. Kale might be dependable enough, but it was Roke’s responsibility to be with his clan. “And now, for the true cherry topper, I’m mated to a witch who not only sold her soul to the Dark Lord, but who hates vampires.”

Styx’s fingers tightened to a painful grip. “Roke . . .”

He shrugged off the warning hand, on a sudden roll. “Hell, I couldn’t possibly have been trapped with a worse mate if I tried.”

The scent of peaches filled the air. No, not peaches . . . scorched peaches. As if the scrumptious fruit had been tossed in a raging fire.

Shit.

Slowly turning, Roke met the furious glare of his mate, forced to hastily duck as she tossed a heavy crystal vase at his head.

“Right back at you,” she hissed, tossing another vase. “Jackass.”

Roke groaned. His only emotion should be relief that the female hadn’t been able to use her magic. He would no doubt be missing a vital part of his male anatomy right now.

Instead, all he could feel was a fierce, searing need to gather the angry Sally in his arms and promise that she would never be hurt again.

Especially not by him.

 

Gaius struggled to shake off the clinging sense of lethargy that shrouded him in a thick blanket of unconsciousness.

He hated the sensation.

He hated it even more when he could sense a presence leaning over his helpless body.

With a threatening growl, he forced open his heavy lids, relieved to discover he’d taken the precaution of spending the day on a narrow cot in the cellar. The house might be sun-proof, but an enemy could always find a way to break through his shutters and expose him to the deadly rays.

Especially when he was so deeply asleep he couldn’t detect an approaching trespasser.

Surging upward, he discovered Dara standing near the narrow door that was the only entrance to the cellar. She smiled as she slid an affectionate glance over his rumpled hair and naked body.

“
Habibi,
are you rested?” she asked in her soft voice.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, sensing that night had fallen while he’d been unconscious. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Since you returned last eve.” Her smile widened. “You were always a lazy bug after you overindulged.”

He grimaced. He’d done more than overindulge. He’d wallowed in a bloodlust that had been shocking even by his standards. And still he’d remained plagued by a gnawing hunger that refused to be appeased.

It was only the threat of dawn that had forced him to gather the few remaining mortals and return to his temporary lair.

“The humans?” he rasped, assuming something must be wrong for Dara to seek him out.

She shrugged. “They’re safely locked in the attic.”

“Then what’s troubling you?”

Her beautiful eyes shimmered with a strange glow, as if they were being lit from within. “Something that should have remained hidden is now found,” she whispered, the glow from her eyes filling the cellar with an eerie light.

He took an unconscious step backward. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It has to be one of the witches.” Her brows pulled together, her tone absent.

“I thought we killed the last of them.”

She pretended she didn’t hear him. Or maybe she wasn’t pretending. Gaius smiled wryly. It seemed the only time Dara truly acknowledged his presence was when she needed something.

“Or perhaps it’s one of the Oracles.” She gave a slow nod. “Yes, that is possible.”

Gaius went rigid, an icy ball of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. “They’re here?”

“Not yet. But I’ve felt them searching for me.” Dara’s eyes returned to liquid pools of darkness. “They know I’m here.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are they searching for you?”

“I’ve told you.” She regarded him with a beseeching plea that arrowed straight to his heart. “They don’t like vampires returning from the grave. They will seek to banish me from this world.”

With a reluctance that shamed him, Gaius moved forward to lightly brush a hand over her cheek. As always he was struck by the unpleasant sensation that his hand was passing through air.

“No. I won’t let that happen,” he swore. “Not again.”

She moved back, dislodging his hand, but her smile was as warm as the long forgotten sun. “I knew I could depend on you,
habibi
.”

Yes. He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to clear the weary fog from his mind. His mate depended on him. It was his duty to do whatever was necessary to protect her.

“We must hide,” he murmured, shifting through the various possibilities. They had to lay low until the Commission lost interest. “We can return to our lair in Italy.”

“Yes, eventually,” she agreed. “But not yet.”

Gaius frowned. “Dara, I don’t have the strength to fight the Commission.”

“You don’t have to fight the entire Commission,” she assured him. “Only their two emissaries.”

He didn’t bother asking how she could feel the approach of the Oracles, or how she seemed to mysteriously know that they’d sent two emissaries.

He wasn’t sure he wanted the answers.

“Who did they send?” he instead demanded.

“The female clan chief.”

Gaius hissed. There was more than one female clan chief, of course. But, there was only one whom the Oracles would send to try and capture him.

“Nefri.” He clenched his hands, pretending the raw stab of guilt was anger. He wasn’t going to admit that he’d abused Nefri’s generous trust. What choice did he have? The Dark Lord had lured him with promises of Dara. Any vampire would betray their people for their beloved mate. “Damn her. How can she know I survived?”

“The Oracles, no doubt.” Dara’s features twisted with a bitter fury before her eyes grew distant, as if she were looking at something far away. “Now that is intriguing.”

“What is?”

“Her companion.” She slowly smiled. “This promises to be an interesting reunion.”

Reunion?

Gaius began to shake his head in bafflement only to freeze as he was struck by the haunting memory of being ripped through the rift by the Dark Lord. At the time his only thought was to scurry away from the raging battle, but he was certain that he’d caught a glimpse of an unconscious Nefri being held in the arms of an all-too familiar vampire.

“Santiago,” he said, his voice harsh.

“Yes.” Dara’s expression was . . . what? It almost appeared smug. “Our son.”

“No.” Gaius paced across the cramped space, hating the sick regret that flowed like acid through him at the thought of Santiago. “No longer.”

“He will always be ours, Gaius.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Tell me.”

He hunched a defensive shoulder. He didn’t want to speak about his son. Of all the sacrifices he’d made, Santiago was the one that would always torment him.

Feeling the weight of Dara’s stare, he at last muttered a low curse. “I betrayed him when I sold my soul to the Dark Lord and then I abandoned him and he became a slave to the blood pits,” he forced out. “He’ll never forgive me.”

“He’s angry and confused,” she said softly.

He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “He has every right to be.”

“Perhaps.” There was a misty brush against his naked shoulder. Dara’s touch? “But Nefri has used his emotions to manipulate him into becoming our enemy.”

“I doubt it took much manipulation.”

“You can’t believe that. You know Santiago,” she whispered directly into his ear. “No matter what you’ve done, if he’s coerced into harming his sire he will be tortured by guilt. It will eventually destroy him.”

Gaius tried to shut out her words.

The last time there was a whisper in his ear, the Dark Lord persuaded him to betray his son, his clan, and eventually the entire world.

He wouldn’t be fooled again.

But then he turned his head to catch sight of the delicate, honey-tinted face and his logic sizzled beneath the burst of intense yearning.

Once he’d been happy.

Centuries ago he’d been a powerful clan chief with a devoted mate and a fiercely loyal son he was training to follow in his footsteps.

He wanted that back.

He wanted it with a hunger that destroyed any lingering threads of sanity.

“What can we do?” he at last rasped.

Dara smiled, pleased with his capitulation. “We must convince him that he’s still our son and that all we want is to be a family again.”

“A family.”

“The three of us together,” she continued, weaving her web of temptation. “Just imagine,
habibi
.”

He frowned. “What if it’s too late? I cut all ties with Santiago when I abandoned him.”

“It’s never too late,” she assured him. “He’s following our trail even as we speak.”

He gave a slow nod. “Then, we can speak when he arrives. I can apologize and tell him how much I regret leaving him.”

“Yes, yes, but first you must make him help us,” Dara said impatiently, interrupting his fantasy of the long overdue reunion with Santiago.

“What do you mean?” he asked in confusion. “Help us with what?”

“I have something that needs to be retrieved and he’s the only one who can get his hands on”—there was a faint hesitation—“it.”

Gaius flinched. “We can’t ask him to help as soon as he arrives.”

“Why not? You said yourself that he’s family.”

“He’ll assume that we just want to use him.”

Dara studied him with an unblinking gaze. “I don’t have time to wait. Unless you want to put me back in my grave, then we must
force
him to help.”

Gaius shook his head. “I won’t hurt him.”

“Of course not,” she swiftly agreed. “But we’ll need leverage.”

He paused. Once upon a time he’d been the master of strategy, the one who made the plans and was the driving force that made sure they were accomplished. Dara had always deferred to his stronger will, supporting him with her gentle belief he was always right.

Until that god-awful night when the neighboring vampire clan had come to seek vengeance.

Now . . . well, she’d obviously changed.

“What kind of leverage?” he found himself asking, accepting that for now Dara was in command.

“Let me consider.” Her eyes grew distant again, as if she were seeing beyond the cellar. “Yes,” she at last murmured.

“Dara?”

The dark gaze locked on him, sending a chill down his spine.

“You’ll need your medallion.”

 

 

 

Nefri glared at the piles of expensive boxes with fancy bows and silver tissue that were spread across the room. She felt her annoyance rising as each box was opened to reveal yet another slinky gown or scraps of lace that Santiago assured her were negligees. Clothing that ranged from the impractical to the ludicrous.

Standing across the room, Santiago pulled another box from the stack that had been delivered as soon as the sun had set.

Tossing off the lid, he pulled out a skirt that was barely long enough to cover her butt and sparkling with silver sequins. “What about this one?”

Her eyes narrowed at the amusement shimmering in his dark eyes. The male was taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in displaying one worthless garment after another.

“No,” she ground out.

He reached for a tube of stretchy silk that she assumed was intended to be worn as a dress. “This one?”

She shoved her hands in the pockets of the robe she’d found in the bathroom. Santiago was wearing a matching robe, although he’d left it open to reveal the hard perfection of his bronzed body.

A body she now knew with a delectable intimacy.

A blissful shiver ran through her as her gaze slid over the lean, beautiful features that were framed by the hair that was left to fall in a smooth river of ebony over his shoulders and down his back.

His smile widened, revealing a hint of fang as the air became perfumed with her stirring arousal.

She gave an impatient click of her tongue. They’d just spent the past ten hours sating their seemingly endless desire. How could she possibly be hungry for more?

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” she muttered in a futile effort to distract herself from the thought of tumbling him onto the nearby bed.

He flashed his fangs, dangling a minuscule thong from his index finger. “I’m enjoying the thought of you wearing this.”

Damn the gorgeous, utterly sexy vampire. How was she supposed to concentrate?

Wrenching her mind away from tiny undies, half-naked males, and a bed that seemed to be calling her name, Nefri instead waved a disgusted hand toward the piles of discarded clothing. “What’s the matter with the females?” she demanded. “None of these are sensible.”

He glanced down at the thong. “Perhaps they assumed you would want to dress to please your man, not to be sensible.”

She arched a brow. “Please my man?”

“Is that an unfamiliar phrase?”

With a concentrated burst of her power, she had the thong lying in tatters at Santiago’s feet.

“It’s a stupid phrase.”

Santiago tilted back his head to laugh with rich enjoyment. Then, stepping over the piles of boxes, he prowled forward. He halted directly in front of her, reaching to tug a strand of her hair.

“You’re just so easy,
cara
.”

“Careful,” she warned, even as her lips twitched.

He smoothed the strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle but possessive. Something that should have set her teeth on edge, not make her treacherous heart warm with pleasure.

“I’m sure the females were simply attempting to impress you with their exquisite taste and ability to offer the most expensive gowns,” he assured her.

“Yes, I know.” She wrinkled her nose, well aware she was overreacting. Unfortunately, the need to track down Gaius and whatever was controlling him was growing more urgent with every passing hour. It made her . . . tense. “And I appreciate their gifts, but I have no use for any of it.”

He glanced toward a red leather bustier that had come complete with a whip. “Not even—”

“Santiago.”

With a soft chuckle he bent down to press his lips to her forehead. “When will you learn you can depend on me?”

“Depend on you for what?”

“Everything,” he assured her huskily before pulling back to regard her with a smug expression. “But in this particular case, I spoke with Gabriel last night and asked for him to find us suitable clothes to continue our journey.” He reached to grab a plain bag from the end of the bed. “Ta da.”

Reaching for the bag, Nefri pulled out several pairs of jeans, both male and female in various sizes, and two matching gray hoodies that would allow them to easily travel without attracting notice among the humans.