GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

Chapter 4

Ariyal didn’t believe in Santa Claus.

If a fat man in a red suit snuck into his lair he would slice off the bastard’s head.

But he had to assume there was some magic involved in beautiful vampires appearing out of thin air.

Especially when it was this particular beautiful vampire.

That was a gift any man could appreciate.

For a crazed moment, he simply savored the sensation of her slim body pressed beneath him. God, it had been so long since he’d felt genuine desire.

Not since Morgana le Bitch had taken him into her harem.

Now his body was determined to make up for lost time.

Still, for all his rampaging desire, he wasn’t so lost to reason that he didn’t recall this female posed an extreme danger to him.

“How the hell did you get here?” he growled, keeping the knife poised near her throat even as he made certain it didn’t mar the perfection of her alabaster skin.

Her hands pressed against his chest, but she made no attempt to kill him.

Progress.

“Get off me, you ass,” she hissed.

“Not until I’m certain you don’t intend to alert all of London to our presence.”

Something that might have been embarrassment at her less than graceful entrance rippled over her starkly beautiful face before she was glaring at him in outrage.

“Don’t blame me. It was your little spirit who dumped me here.”

“Spirit?”

“Yannah.”

He scowled. He had occasionally conjured a spirit who went by the name of Yannah, but she wouldn’t be able to enter Avalon. And certainly she couldn’t have brought Jaelyn to London.

“Spirits are incapable of forming portals.”

“Spooks are your specialty, not mine,” she muttered, her expression abruptly shuttered. “All I know is that she made an unexpected appearance in Avalon and shoved me through a portal. Next thing I knew I was making a face-first landing in London.”

She was lying.

He was certain of that much.

The question was whether anything she told him was the truth.

“I sensed there was something different about Yannah when I summoned her from the underworld,” he at last admitted.

“Obviously you should be more careful when you’re inviting in creatures from hell,” she taunted.

Yeah, he wasn’t going to argue with her logic.

“I was distracted at the time, if you’ll recall. And it was you who allowed her to escape before I could properly banish her.”

“Whatever.” She refused to meet his gaze. “Now will you get off of me?”

Damn. What the hell was she hiding from him?

“Spirit or not, why would Yannah follow us to Avalon and then conveniently be around to help you escape?”

There was a barely perceptible pause. “She owed me for releasing her from your bondage. I called in my debt.”

“I don’t believe you.”

She struggled, the sensation of her hard muscles squirming against him nearly sending him up in flames. Holy shit. If only he could turn all that pent-up aggression to passion she’d be naked and riding him like a bucking bronco.

The image burned into his brain, making him so hard and ready he feared he might explode.

“Tough,” she growled.

He ground his teeth. Dammit, he wouldn’t let himself be distracted.

At least, not without the promise of satisfaction.

“Why did you follow me here?”

“You know why.”

He smiled without humor, pressing his aching arousal against her hip.

“Tempting, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to have your wicked way with my body,” he mocked. “At least until I’ve halted Armageddon.”

Her eyes flashed with indigo fire, her struggles becoming serious.

“My only interest in your body is hauling it to the Commission.”

He pressed the knife against her throat, refusing to regret the smell of burning flesh.

If she tried to take him to the Commission then he’d have to do a hell of a lot worse than singe a bit of skin.

“Wrong answer.”

“Shit, that burns.”

“Hold still and you won’t be hurt,” he informed her, lifting his free hand to form a portal.

Instantly the familiar shimmer floated beside him. No other fairy could match his speed in forming a portal. Or his tolerance to iron.

Which were only two of many reasons he’d been chosen to lead his people.

Jaelyn froze, her gaze trained on the magical opening that hung near her head.

“What are you doing?”

“Returning you to Avalon.” His gaze narrowed. “And this time I will make certain no one will be coming to your rescue.”

She cursed, grudgingly turning her head to meet his ruthless gaze.

“Wait.”

“Why should I?”

“We ...” She looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. “... might be able to negotiate.”

Instinctively he lifted the dagger from her neck, absently watching her skin heal the small burn.

He should return her to Avalon. No ifs, ands, or freaking buts. The odds were that she was either there to haul his ass to the Commission.

Or kill him.

Neither possibility was particularly pleasant.

Still, he hesitated.

Wasn’t there some human saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?

It was surely wiser to have her in sight until he discovered how she truly had escaped from Avalon?

Dubious logic, but he was going with it.

“Another bargain, poppet?”

“Something like that.”

His gaze lowered to the small breasts perfectly outlined by the black spandex.

“What do you intend to offer?”

She growled, but amazingly she made no effort to sink her pearly fangs into his arm. In fact, her mouth curled into what he assumed was intended to be a smile, although it was remarkably closer to the onset of rigor mortis.

“I’m willing to give you a few days to track down Tearloch,” she managed to choke out. “If you swear you will only capture the child and not sacrifice her.”

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Why?”

“I won’t help you kill an innocent.”

He pressed the blade back to her neck. “Don’t play stupid.”

She snapped her fangs, barely missing his fingers. “Careful, fey.”

“Earlier you refused to even discuss my need to stop Tearloch and Sergei,” he reminded her. “What changed?”

She shifted until the blade was no longer burning her skin, her raven braid spilling across the damp pavement.

“I’m no more anxious than you for the world to end. Especially if it means becoming enslaved by the minions of hell.”

Ariyal shook his head. “You really are a terrible liar, poppet.”

She made a sound of impatience. “Look, I’ve offered to give you the time you need to track down your tribesman. What does it matter why?”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

She met him glare for glare. “Believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual.”

“I should return you to Avalon.”

Something that might have been panic flared through her eyes before she was crushing it beneath a layer of ice.

“I’ll only escape again,” she warned in frigid tones. “And the next time I won’t hesitate to haul your ass to the Commission.”

Ariyal silently cursed.

He was an idiot.

His tribe had suffered untold pain and humiliation to be rid of their ties to the Dark Lord. He couldn’t afford to be distracted now that there was a chance the brutal bastard might be returned to this world.

The sensible solution would be to kill the perilously tempting vampire. Or at the very least to return her to Avalon and lock her in the lower harems where nothing could escape.

Instead, he was going to keep her with him.

What choice did he have? There wasn’t any place he could put her, not even in her grave, where she wouldn’t be nagging at his thoughts.

“You swear not to interfere?” he rasped.

“Not unless you try to kill the child.”

“Bloody hell, I know I’m going to regret this,” he muttered, rising to his feet, although he kept the dagger handy.

Jaelyn was upright and angrily tossing back her long braid in less than a heartbeat.

“You and me both.”

Still fully aroused from the feel of her body beneath him and furious with his odd compulsion to have her near, Ariyal grasped her upper arm and jerked her across the road.

“Let’s go.”

“Go?” She scowled, but allowed herself to be led toward the back of the looming townhouses. “Where?”

“If you insist on hanging around then you can at least make yourself useful.”

Her lips parted to offer a scathing comment, only to snap shut as they came to a halt near a servants’ entrance.

“The mage,” she said, her hand instinctively reaching for the shotgun that she usually carried strapped to her side. She glared at him when she came up empty. “And he’s brewing something.”

He nodded, catching the sweet scent drifting through the air.

“Yes.”

“It smells ...” She blinked in surprise. “... good.”

“Fey.”

“What?”

Ariyal breathed in deeply. “The plants he’s using are grown only by the fey.”

Her surprise hardened to suspicion. “Do you know what he’s concocting?”

He shrugged. “I would guess it’s a potion used to keep him from aging. Mages are humans and must use magical herbs to make them immortal.”

The suspicion remained.

No big surprise.

“You’re sure it’s not a spell he’s about to cast?”

“He’s a dark mage.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she snapped impatiently. “All the more likely he’s about to create some nasty potion, right?”

He studied her pale, perfect face. It was impossible to determine a vampire’s age. Jaelyn could be a few decades old or several millennia. But he suspected that she was barely out of her foundling years, despite her skills as a Hunter. There were too many gaps in her knowledge for her to be an ancient.

“His power comes from blood.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Blood magic was a perverted form of true magic. “Either his own or that of a sacrifice.”

Her gaze weighed his open revulsion toward Sergei. “And your power?” she demanded.

“A gift from nature.”

It was the truth, and yet Jaelyn’s gaze narrowed as she sensed he was keeping something hidden.

“There’s more.”

He hesitated. He preferred to keep a few of his lesser-known skills ... lesser known. It was, after all, his secret tolerance to iron that had allowed him to escape from Jaelyn just days ago.

Who the hell knew when he might need another surprise or two?

But her expression warned that she wasn’t going to stop nagging until she was satisfied with his answer.

Dammit.

“When necessary I can draw on the powers of others,” he admitted between clenched teeth.

She stiffened. “How exactly does that work?”

“Relax, poppet,” he assured her dryly. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I need power from a leech.”

She studied him, not entirely convinced. “Hmmm.”

He made a sound of impatience, pointed toward the nearby townhouse.

“Can you sense the child?”

Her lips thinned, as if she was annoyed to have to be reminded of why they were lingering in the foggy night.

“No,” she muttered, “but I think the spell that guards the baby prevents me from being able to scent it.” She tilted back her head, allowing her acute senses to absorb her surroundings. She abruptly turned to regard him with a hint of bewilderment. “The Sylvermyst is missing.”

He nodded. “Tearloch left just before your dramatic arrival.”

“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.

Most of the bastards had the mistaken idea they were somehow superior to their more “barbaric” brothers.

And this woman was one of them.

No, not just one.

The one.

The big kahuna. The CEO and founding member.

It was Nefri’s medallion that allowed her to travel through the Veil. And it was her powers that kept her people safe from those demons who attempted to break through the misty barrier that surrounded their world.

Ironically most vampires would be fascinated to meet one of the Immortals.

They were a source of myth and mystery and only a rare few vampires could ever claim to having encountered one. Like freaking leprechauns, Santiago acknowledged with a wry smile.

He, on the other hand, had barely been out of his foundling years when his sire had grimly informed him that he could not bear this world after the loss of his mate and was leaving to join those beyond the Veil.

The memory of his rejection was like a raw wound that had never fully healed for Santiago.

“I thought your ... clan had turned their backs on the mortal world,” he accused between clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”

“The disruptions that are thinning the barriers between dimensions are affecting us as well.”

“Ah.” He regarded her with an acid gaze, even as his body continued to react as if it had never seen a woman before. Madre Dios. If he didn’t leash his instincts he’d have her tumbled on the nearby bed and showing her just what she’d been missing all those long, lonely years. Maybe she would even discover a new appreciation for a mere barbarian. Or maybe she would rip out your heart and feed it to the wolves, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. For some reason the thought only intensified his smoldering anger. “So you were willing to remain in your little slice of paradise while the rest of us went to hell, but now that you’re being threatened you’re ready to take notice of the danger?”

Her dark gaze held a piercing intelligence that warned she could see far more than he wanted to share.

“So bitter,” she murmured softly. “You cared very deeply for Gaius.”

He squared his shoulders, refusing to allow the memory of his sire to rise to mind.

“I care about the family who didn’t abandon me,” he growled, “which is why I would do anything to protect them.”

“I am here to offer assistance, not harm.”

“Easy enough to claim.”

“True,” she readily agreed. “What will it take to convince you?”

Oh, he could think of several possibilities.

Erotic images flashed through his mind, most of them focused on having those cherry lips wrapped around a specific body part.

With a growl he was crushing the dangerous thoughts. How often had he used his own potent sexual attraction to defeat his enemies?

He wasn’t going to be led around by his cock.

“It’s no coincidence you are in this precise spot at this precise moment,” he accused.

With an elegant motion Nefri moved toward the window overlooking the backyard, her hair rippling like liquid ebony in the moonlight.

“No, it is no coincidence,” she admitted. “Like you I am searching for the prophet.”

Santiago curled his fingers, ignoring the itch to run them through those satin strands of hair.

“Why?”

She turned back to meet his wary gaze. “It was our hope to protect her from the Dark Lord by taking her beyond the Veil.” She waved a hand toward the empty room. “I fear we were too late.”

Yeah. He knew the feeling.

“How did you even know of Cassandra?”

A Mona Lisa smile curved her lips. “We are not utterly isolated.”

“So you’ve been spying on us?”

“There are those who travel between worlds,” she said without apology. “And when it became known that there were rumors of a seer I began to investigate. She is ...”

He frowned as she hesitated. “What?”

Nefri reached into the pocket of her robes to pull out a thin book no larger than the palm of her hand.

“She is vital to the future of all our worlds.”

He studied the book, sensing its age. “What is that?” She stroked loving fingers over the battered red cover. “A book of prophecies that I took beyond the Veil when the Dark Lord began to destroy them.”

His brows lifted. Books of prophecies were as rare as actual prophets.

“And?”

“Most of them are gibberish, I fear.”

Santiago snorted. “Typical.”

“But, there is one that speaks of the birth of the Alpha and the Omega.”

The Alpha and the Omega ...

Santiago stiffened. They were the same words spoken by the Sylvermyst who warned that the child Laylah had protected for so long was destined to return the Dark Lord to this world.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

“What does it say?” he rasped.

“It warns that the ‘harbinger of truth’ must not be silenced,” she said without hesitation.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

He clenched his teeth. Why the hell couldn’t prophets just spit out the future in words a person could understand?

“Still gibberish.”

“No.” Nefri shook her head. “A warning that I intend to heed.”

She lifted her hand to grasp the medallion around her neck. The gold metal inscribed with some ancient hieroglyphs began to glow, filling the room with a strange heat.

Santiago instinctively lifted his sword. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I am going to search for the female.”

Despite his hatred toward the Immortals, and the very real possibility she might fry him if he tried to interfere in her dramatic departure, Santiago stepped forward, grasping the woman’s arm.

“Not without me, you’re not.”

She went rigid beneath the firm grip of his hand, her dark gaze studying his fierce expression.

“I had forgotten,” she whispered.

His fangs throbbed at the exotic scent of jasmine and pure female.

“Forgotten what?”

“How aggressive males tend to be in this world.”

He leaned forward, allowing their lips to brush as he spoke his low warning.

“Querida, you haven’t seen aggressive yet.”