GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

Chapter 9

Jaelyn stumbled out of the portal and into the large meadow with the grace of a drunken harpy.

Recovering her balance, she whirled around, fully prepared to punish anyone stupid enough to be laughing at her. Luckily for them, her companions were struggling with their own exits.

Levet landed on his head, his horns stuck in the soft dirt. And right behind him, Ariyal fell to his knees, his long braid falling over his shoulder as he bent forward, struggling to catch his breath.

Obviously the effort of creating a portal to take three demons from England to America, not to mention bending time to make sure they arrived precisely at nightfall to keep Jaelyn from being turned into ash, had taken its toll.

“Bloody hell,” the Sylvermyst panted, casting an evil glare at the gargoyle, who had managed to free himself and was busy knocking the mud from his horns. “That’s the last time I haul your stony ass halfway around the world.”

The gargoyle squeaked in horror, his wings flapping as he turned in a circle, attempting to peer over his shoulder.

“Are you implying that I’m fat?” He halted to turn a pleading glance toward Jaelyn. “Ma enfant, am I fat?”

“Of course not,” she assured the tiny demon.

“There, you see?” He sent a raspberry toward Ariyal, patting his backside. “I have buns of steel.”

The Sylvermyst growled a harsh obscenity while Jaelyn struggled to hide her smile.

She’d convinced Ariyal they couldn’t leave the gargoyle behind. He was too intimately acquainted with their quest to track down the child of the Dark Lord to risk him falling into the hands of their enemies.

How much torture would the tiny creature endure before he was blabbing everything he knew?

Battle tactics demanded they keep him close at hand.

But she couldn’t deny the fact that Levet irritated Ariyal on an epic scale was a decided bonus.

“You’re a lump of granite who should have been left in the sewers of London,” Ariyal snapped, rising to his feet with a fluid grace that tugged at something deep inside Jaelyn.

She shifted uneasily, her gaze tracing the elegant male profile.

Dammit. This was why she was trained to avoid sexual relationships.

It would be bad enough to take him as her lover if he was still her target, but at least then she could have turned him over to the Commission after the deed was done. Or better yet, killed him.

Now she had no choice but to follow him when he claimed he could use his tribal connection with Tearloch to track him down.

A breeze stirred the air, bringing with it the rich scent of herbs. Ariyal’s scent.

Her fangs lengthened, her hunger rising as her gaze instinctively slid to the strong column of his neck. She swallowed a groan, sharply turning away.

She needed to feed.

This brutal urgency had nothing to do with Ariyal’s blood in particular.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

“I’ll leave you two to your male bonding,” she muttered, heading down the path as she sought to get her bearings.

Although they were currently surrounded by open meadows on one side and cornfields on the other, she easily sensed the press of humanity that marked Chicago. It also included a large clan of vampires she hoped to avoid.

Thankfully closer at hand was a decent-sized town that should offer a meal as well as a much-desired shower.

Intent on her escape, Jaelyn clenched her hands in frustration as Ariyal abruptly appeared before her, his face tight with suspicion.

“Where are you going?”

Her brows snapped together at his possessive tone. “Does it matter?”

His eyes shimmered with a pure bronze in the moonlight. “Yes, it damned well matters.”

“Why?”

“I don’t intend to be stuck with that miniature pain in the ass.” He pointed toward Levet, who was busy sniffing a bush. “Besides, how do I know you’re not going for reinforcements to force me to the Oracles?”

She snorted. “As if I need reinforcements.”

“Then tell me where you’re going.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “My errand has nothing to do with you.”

“Shit, Jaelyn,” he growled. “Does everything have to be a fight?”

Her lips thinned as she squashed the urge to continue with their petty squabbling.

“Fine. I must feed,” she grudgingly confessed. “Satisfied?”

Expecting the aggravating fairy to step aside, Jaelyn wasn’t prepared when he instead reached out to grab her upper arms and yanked her hard against his body.

“No, I’m not satisfied.”

She glared at him in astonishment. Had he lost his mind?

Nobody manhandled a vampire.

Not unless they had a death wish.

“Well, that’s too bad,” she hissed, telling herself it was only her duty to the Addonexus that kept her from ripping out Ariyal’s throat.

Instead she planted her hands against his chest and shoved just hard enough to give her the necessary space to continue down the pathway.

“Wait.” He was once again standing in front of her, his expression set in stubborn lines.

“What?”

“Use me.”

“You?”

“I have blood.” He deliberately angled his head to expose the tempting length of his throat. “Drink.”

A piercing yearning shot through her, the vivid image of her fangs buried deep in his throat as he held her pressed tight against his body searing through her mind.

Oh ... hell.

She was in trouble.

The sort of trouble that could get her killed if she wasn’t careful.

“No,” she muttered, wrenching her gaze from his neck to meet the fierce glitter in his eyes. “No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not the kind I need.”

“Liar.” His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb teasing at her lower lip. “Vampires find Sylvermyst blood intoxicating. I’ve had to kill more than one to keep them off my neck.”

She shuddered, her fangs aching.

“Hunters have a specific nutritional need.”

There was enough truth in her words to make him scowl in frustration.

“And where do you expect to find these nutritional needs?”

“There’s a town not far from here.”

“Will you hunt?”

She studied him in confusion. She’d been so shocked by her barbaric reaction to his offer of a vein that she hadn’t considered why the arrogant, highly distrustful fey would share his royal blood.

Now she studied him in confusion. “What are you asking?”

“Will you sink your fangs into another man’s vein?”

She blinked. Holy shit. Was he jealous?

“That’s none of your ...”

“I made it my business when I took you as my lover,” he snapped, his head swooping down like a bird of prey.

She braced herself as his mouth branded her lips in a kiss that she felt to the tips of her toes.

For a crazed minute she simply savored the intoxicating pleasure that threatened to consume her. There was no logical explanation for why this man’s touch could overcome decades of brutal training, but the urge to rip off her clothes and beg for him to ease her throbbing desire was undeniable.

And why shouldn’t I?

A quickie in the cornfield might take the edge off and allow her to regain the icy control that was annoyingly elusive.

“No.” She shook her head, ruthlessly crushing the wicked temptation. She was in this stupid mess because she’d been weak. It wouldn’t happen again. “Last night ... it was ...”

The heat of his fey magic filled the air, as enticing as it was lethal.

“Try to claim that it was a mistake and I’ll prove you wrong, regardless of our audience,” he snarled, his expression warning that he wasn’t bluffing.

“Barbarian,” she accused, even as a deep, primitive part of her wanted him to make good on his threat.

To simply toss her on the ground and have his evil way with her.

Over and over and over.

“You’d better believe it, poppet,” he agreed without apology.

Appalled by her arousal, which was scenting the air, she yanked free of his arms and pointed a finger in his too-handsome face.

“Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you own me.”

Her warning delivered, she shrouded herself in shadows and moved with lightning speed down the pathway.

There was no way she was going to risk being stopped again. Not when she couldn’t be trusted not to take the blood she so desperately craved.

She skirted several farmhouses where the humans were nestled in front of their televisions or finishing up the last of their chores. Not one would ever suspect how closely death had brushed past them.

Maintaining the thick shadows that kept her hidden from even the most perceptive demons, Jaelyn angled through a field of soybeans and then slowed her pace as she reached the outskirts of town.

It was set up in the typical Midwest style.

A few brick, colonial-style homes discreetly hidden behind massive oak trees that eventually gave way to the convenience stores and local hotels. Along the main street was a line of small shops that were shuttered for the night, and farther down a cluster of chain restaurants that glowed with neon invitation to the residents.

The side streets led to tidy, well-manicured neighborhoods where the humans covertly kept track of their neighbors while attempting to hide their own naughty secrets. And of course, on the fringes were a few of the more shabby neighborhoods where the residents were too busy surviving to give a crap what anyone else was doing.

Jaelyn ignored both as she instead crossed the parking lot that was shared between the junior college and the small hospital. She slipped through a side door, choosing the back staircase despite the fact she could have easily moved down the brightly lit hallways without attracting the attention of the medical staff.

Why tempt fate?

Bounding up the steps five at a time, she reached the upper floor in a matter of seconds and was shoving open the door to the closed lab. Just as quickly she was searching the refrigerator units that lined the back wall, pulling out three bags of blood and taking them to the high-powered microscopes that were set on the long table in the center of the room.

She hadn’t lied to Ariyal when she told him that Hunters had specific dietary requirements.

Although vampires tried to keep the knowledge a deep, dark secret, their greatest vulnerability was through the blood they had to drink to survive.

With the proper skills and the willingness to risk certain death if they failed, a demon could inject just enough silver into their bloodstream so a vampire could not scent the danger until too late. Of course, they would have to be impervious to silver themselves and then convince a vampire to drink enough of their blood to poison them.

Not as easy as one might think.

And then there was the danger from their primary food source ... humans.

When a vampire consumed the blood of an addict there was a danger they could become addicted themselves. Slowly and inevitably they would be driven insane as their brains rotted from the contaminated blood.

She’d been trained never to put anything in her fangs that hadn’t been tested.

A task made considerably easier by technology, she conceded, taking a small drop of blood from each bag and studying it beneath the high-powered microscopes. Her senses were extremely acute, but they could be deceived.

Science was absolute.

Once assured the blood was hygienic, she swiftly emptied the bags, telling herself that it didn’t matter that it tasted flat. Food was for sustenance, wasn’t it? She fed because it was a necessity. Only idiots combined passion with their dinner.

And if her hunger for a certain herb-scented blood continued to plague her ... well, too bad.

Cursing the day, or rather night, she’d crossed paths with Ariyal, the pain-in-the-ass Prince of Sylvermyst, Jaelyn took time for a thorough shower in the employees’ private bathroom before heading out of the hospital and back to the main avenue. Once there she found the nearest clothing store and pulled on a pair of black stretchy workout pants that hugged her from her hips to just below her knees as well as a matching crop top that covered her breasts and not much else.

She didn’t bother to consider what she looked like in the outfit. She chose the clothing because it didn’t impede her movements and would blend into the night. Her feminine vanity had been the first thing to be taken from her by the Ruah.

On her way out the store, her attention was captured by a rack of men’s clothing. A slow, wicked smile curved her lips as she yanked one of the shirts from the hanger, then for good measure moved to collect a pair of faded jeans from the sale bin before heading out of the door.

With her foul mood abruptly lightened, Jaelyn tucked the clothes in a bag. Then, leaving the store, she made one more stop before heading out of town.

Ariyal had never understood the claim that someone was “fit to be tied.”

Not unless it included a beautiful female, a length of satin rope, and a soft bed.

Forty-five minutes after Jaelyn had disappeared he was learning the painful meaning of being “fit to be tied.”

Pacing through the meadow, he absently gathered handfuls of blackberries that were just ripening as well a few of the more tender leaves that he dipped in fresh honey. Like most Sylvermyst, he was a vegetarian who preferred his meal directly from nature, although his brute strength came from the blood of his enemies.

But satisfying his physical hunger did nothing to ease his frustration.

It was insane.

After centuries of being enslaved by a vicious bitch, the last thing he should want was to be at the mercy of another female. Especially one who couldn’t seem to decide if she wanted to lick him to paradise or rip out his throat.

Psycho women should be on his list of things to kill not on his list of those to get in his bed with all possible speed.

So why wasn’t he getting on with his business? He knew better than anyone that as long as the child remained with Tearloch there was the danger that the Dark Lord would be returned. The clock was ticking, and he couldn’t afford to waste a second.

Instead, he was pacing the meadow and imagining a dozen different scenarios, all of which included Jaelyn injured or captured or ...

A frigid chill swept through the air, sending a flood of sharp relief through his body, closely followed by a ready male response to the potent womanly scent that filled his senses.

Precisely the two reactions he didn’t want, dammit.

He turned to watch as she stepped into the meadow, his heart squeezing at the mere sight of her.

Gods, but she was beautiful.

She’d showered while she was gone. Her silken hair was still damp and it glowed as glossy as a raven’s wing in the moonlight despite being wrenched into a tight braid. She’d also changed, although the stretchy bits of black cloth did nothing to lower his blood pressure. To top it off she’d matched the sexy ensemble with a brand-spanking-new sawed-off shotgun, which she’d strapped to her slender waist with a belt lined with cartridges.

Holy ... shit.

Beautiful didn’t come close to capturing the sight of her drenched in moonlight.

She halted next to Levet, who was perched in the low branches of a tree, and with one smooth motion she tossed a sack into his stubby arms.

“Food?” The miniature beast sighed in pleasure. “Ah, you are an angel.”

Ariyal snorted. “You just consumed an entire deer.”

“There is always room for cake.”

He was distracted from the smirking gargoyle as Jaelyn turned to toss him a second sack.

“What’s this?”

“Clean clothes.”

He lifted his brows, sensing her hidden anticipation. He was almost afraid to check and see what she’d brought for him. Then his enjoyment at her unexpected playfulness was destroyed as he noticed the faint color that stained her cheeks.

She’d obviously fed. And the mere thought of her fangs buried in some stranger’s throat was enough to send a raw burst of fury through him.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?”

She stiffened, futilely attempting to scurry behind the icy dignity that he detested. Thankfully his ability to annoy her overcame her brutal training and she moved forward to punch him in the center of the chest.

He would take a broken rib to her clamping down her emotions any day of the week.

“Oh for God’s sake,” she hissed. “I went to the nearest hospital and raided their blood supply. Can we move on to something more interesting than my dietary habits?”

He grasped her wrist, using her blow to tug her off balance.

“Come with me,” he urged as she tumbled against his chest, his arms automatically wrapping around her slender body.

“Where?”

“There’s a stream hidden by the trees.” His gaze dipped toward her full lips, his feral satisfaction at the knowledge she hadn’t taken another man’s vein pounding through his blood. “You can wash my back.”

The scent of her desire spiked the air before she was roughly shoving him away.

“I just showered.”

He smiled, breathing deeply of her enticing arousal. “What’s your point?”

With a deliberate motion she allowed her fingers to caress the hilt of her shotgun.

“You can wash your own damn back.”

Ariyal reached to brush his thumb along her lower lip. “So cruel.”

“Be happy I haven’t stuck a dagger in it yet,” she muttered, turning to stomp away.

Resisting the suicidal urge to toss her over his shoulder and haul her to the privacy of the woods, Ariyal contented himself with the absolute certainty that she wanted him as he headed to the stream. The Addonexus might have done their best to mold her into ruthless executioner without thought or feeling, but they hadn’t succeeded.

At least not completely.

Below the ice was a passionate female just aching to break free of her restraints.

And he was just the man to help her discover her suppressed needs.

Entering the woods that lined the edge of the meadow, Ariyal briefly halted as he caught the unmistakable stench of cur.

It wasn’t unusual for dogs to be sniffing around such prime hunting grounds, but he kept his senses on full alert as he stripped off his clothes and waded into the hip-deep water of the creek.

Once clean, he slid on the jeans he found in the bag that Jaelyn had tossed at him, tucking a dagger into the waistband at his lower back and strapping another to his ankle. Then after braiding back his wet hair, he reached back into the bag to pull out the shirt.

A brief glance was all that was necessary for him to comprehend Jaelyn’s earlier amusement. Good ... gods. The silk Hawaiian shirt painted with gaudy yellow and red flowers was an affront to fashion.

Clutching the offensive garment in one hand, and his sword and scabbard in the other, he marched out of the woods and across the meadow, finding Jaelyn and Levet resting beneath the large oak tree.

“I suppose you think this is funny?” he demanded, dangling the shirt in front of her nose.

Beside her the annoying gargoyle doubled over as his laughter echoed across the countryside.

“Oui. I think it is très amusing.”

Ariyal glared at the pest in warning. “I thought I caught the scent of cur near the creek. Why don’t you go investigate?”

“Why me?”

“Because if you stay there’s a good chance I’m going to skewer you to the nearest tree.”

“Are you always so surly?” Levet asked. Then, as he met Ariyal’s dark glare, he gave a frustrated flutter of his wings and headed across the meadow. “I thought fey were supposed to be shiny, happy people?” he called over his shoulder.

Jaelyn rose to her feet. “He’s right,” she accused. “You are surly.”

He was.

And it didn’t have a damned thing to do with butt-ugly shirts, he acknowledged as his gaze ran a hungry path down her body.

“I’m frustrated.”

She put her hands on her hips at his blunt explanation. She was obviously as frustrated as he was. But was she willing to admit the truth? Oh no, she rolled her eyes with a faux female annoyance.

“Men.”

“Women,” he mocked in return, waving the shirt like a flag. “And you chose this deliberately.”

She shrugged. “It’s clean, isn’t it?”

“It’s hideous.”

“Fine. Next time I won’t bother.”

He stepped close, shivering at the delicious feel of cool power washing over the bare skin of his upper body.

“Which begs the question why you bothered this time,” he pointed out. “Can’t get me out of your mind even when we’re apart, eh, poppet?”

“I wanted to annoy you.”

“Sure you did.”

She growled deep in her throat.

“In case you haven’t noticed, time is a-wasting,” she snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to be hunting your friend and his freaky wizard?”

Ariyal grimaced, tossing aside the shirt and strapping the sword over his bare skin. She was right. They had more pressing problems than the state of his wardrobe.

He had managed to follow Tearloch’s portal to this spot, but once he’d landed in the meadow he’d realized that his connection to his tribesman was muted, making it impossible to pinpoint his exact location.

“I can sense he’s near, but there’s some sort of spell of protection surrounding him.”

Predictably the vampire glared at him with a seething impatience, making it clear she held him entirely to blame for being stuck in the middle of nowhere with no immediate enemies to suck dry.

“So you intend to sit here and wait for him to stroll past?”

He clenched his teeth. Aggravating female.

“I’m waiting for midnight.”

“Why?

“That’s when the spirits are easiest to raise.”

“What do you need with spirits?”

“The wizard that Tearloch called from the grave possesses an abnormal amount of magic.” He grimaced, more deeply disturbed by Rafael’s power than he wanted to admit. “I have no intention of walking into a trap when I can use spirits to track him down and tell us of any dangers.”

She shuddered in distaste. “Does it have to be spooks?”

He arched a brow. Was it possible the fearless Hunter was unnerved by a harmless ghost?

Of course, Rafael had proved they weren’t all harmless, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

“Don’t worry. They dislike vampires.” He smiled at her sour expression. “If you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone.”

“Isn’t there another way?”

He shook his head. “It will be the most efficient—” A sharp shriek pierced the air, and smoothly pulling his sword free, he turned toward the sound. “Bloody hell.”

Jaelyn was flowing to his side, her gaze trained toward the woods. “Was that Levet?”

“Unfortunately.”

On cue the tiny demon charged across the meadow, his wings flapping and his short legs churning as he attempted to outrun the dark shapes that were following behind him.

“Something’s coming!” the gargoyle bellowed. “Something dead!”

The stench hit Ariyal at the same time Levet charged past them and headed down the dirt road. Shit. His gut twisted at the sight of the creatures who shambled forward with jerky motions.

Zombies.

At least a dozen of them.

The abominations were recently deceased mortals who had been reanimated by magic. They were nothing but mindless shells, which was why he hadn’t sensed them the moment they’d been called from their graves.

Unfortunately, they were also impervious to pain and nothing could stop them but fire or killing the magician who was controlling them.

He heard Jaelyn’s hiss of shock as she belatedly realized what was approaching.

“Friends of yours?” she muttered.

“I don’t have friends.”