Hunt the Darkness

Chapter Nineteen

Sally felt as if she’d tumbled out of Wonderland, only to be caught up in the tornado from The Wizard of Oz.

Only this tornado was named Roke.

She didn’t know how he happened to be waiting at the precise spot where she would smack into a barrier and be ripped out of the portal. Or why he was standing there with an imp and the King of Vampires.

And it didn’t really matter as she found herself held tightly in his arms while he rushed her into Styx’s mansion, growling at anyone who dared to try to help.

She wanted nothing more than a hot shower and an equally hot meal before she collapsed in the first available bed she could find.

As always, Roke was able to sense her need and with minimum fuss he had her in the private room she’d used when she was last in Chicago.

At the time she’d been overwhelmed by the elegance of the suite that was decorated in shades of sea-foam green and silver.

She’d never seen a marble fireplace that consumed an entire wall or walked across a Parisian carpet that she was fairly certain was a priceless antique. Certainly she’d never seen a bedroom that had a coved ceiling with a painting of angels dancing among the clouds.

In the center of the room was a canopy bed with a pale green comforter that was perfectly matched to the chaise lounge set beside the windows. And along a far wall were a hand-carved armoire and a mirrored dressing table.

It all combined to make her feel like an intruder.

But tonight . . . no wait, it had to be nearly morning . . . she didn’t give a crap.

So long as it wasn’t a freaky illusion or an abandoned gold mine, or a dungeon, she was satisfied.

Allowing Roke to carry her into the bathroom, she was happy to discover the satin gown had been replaced with the itchy blanket. It made it easy to drop it to the floor so she could step beneath the scalding hot water.

Roke murmured something before disappearing from the room. Sally thought she heard something about food, but she was too numb to concentrate on more than one thing at a time. At the moment the winner was the cascade of hot water that felt like heaven.

She stood in the shower until her skin was pruny and her legs threatened to buckle. Then, wrapping a towel around her damp body, she left the vast marble bathroom and made a beeline for the bed.

Crawling beneath the covers, she was prepared when Roke returned with a tray of food that could easily have fed a football team.

Fried chicken, hamburgers, pizza, barbecued ribs, fries, apple pie . . .

He’d obviously hit every fast-food restaurant in the area.

In silence Sally consumed a respectable portion of the feast, replenishing her depleted energy before she set the tray on the nightstand next to her. Then, leaning against the headboard, she watched as Roke paced the floor with barely leashed agitation.

Her heart gave a treacherous leap.

He was just so . . . gorgeous.

Not unearthly beautiful like her father.

Or handsome like a human model.

He was raw and dangerous and so potently male he made every female hormone in her body sizzle with awareness.

Perhaps sensing her gaze, he abruptly glanced toward her with eyes darkened by storm clouds of emotion.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, never halting his restless pacing. “There are more blankets in the cupboard.”

“I’m fine.”

His brows drew together. “You’re shivering.”

With a sense of surprise, Sally realized he was right. She hadn’t noticed that her entire body was trembling beneath the covers.

“Delayed shock,” she muttered.

His jaws clenched, the priceless oil paintings on the wall rattling as he struggled to control his burst of frustration.

“Tell me what you need.”

“You could sit still,” she suggested with a grimace. “You’re making me dizzy.”

“You’re not the only one with delayed shock,” he muttered, coming to a reluctant halt. His dark face was in full lockdown as the paintings continued to rattle. “I’m on the edge of a full-out rampage.”

Sally snorted. “You’re always on the edge of a full-out rampage.”

His eyes flashed silver fire. “Only since I met you, my love. Until then I was accused of having ice in my veins.”

She stiffened at the unfair accusation. “Don’t blame me.”

“I don’t. I blame the irony of fate.” He rammed his fingers through his hair. “It just couldn’t resist destroying my arrogant assumption I could choose an obedient mate who was content to remain in the background.”

Sally ground her teeth together. She was getting tired of hearing about Roke’s imaginary mate.

“She sounds perfect,” she gritted.

He shook his head, his lips twisted in a rueful smile. “Instead my mate is a beautiful, impulsive, unpredictable witch who has made me jump through hoop after hoop since she claimed me.”

Sally wasn’t appeased. “I didn’t mean to claim you.”

“But you have, now I need to do whatever necessary to ease your pain.” Moving forward, he climbed onto the bed and gently pulled her into his arms. “Tell me how I can do that.”

Her brief flare of annoyance melted away as she snuggled against the hard strength of his chest.

A part of her knew this was dangerous.

She’d spent a lifetime learning that she could never depend on anyone. They always failed her. Always disappointed.

And the recent encounter with her father only emphasized that painful lesson.

But she didn’t have the energy to be sensible.

She badly needed the comfort of his strong arms and the cool wash of his power wrapping around her like a security blanket.

“You could start with waving a magic wand and giving me new parents,” she admitted, the words edged with a bitterness she couldn’t disguise. “I’m not fussy. The Borgias had to be better.”

“Parents?” She felt his muscles tense beneath her cheek. “As in plural?”

“I just had a close encounter with an alien claiming to be my father.”

“Alien?”

“He might as well be. He said . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. She hadn’t fully wrapped her brain around the latest bombshell to hit her life. Strange, really. You’d think she’d be used to unpleasant shocks. “He said he’s a Chatri.”

Roke gave a low hiss, his fingers sliding beneath her chin to tilt her face up to meet his narrowed gaze.

“Start at the beginning.”

Still raw from her encounter with her father, Sally instantly bristled at the sharp command.

“That sounded dangerously close to an order.”

His lips flattened, but he spoke the words she never thought she’d hear.

“Please, Sally.”

She might have smiled if her heart weren’t bruised and aching.

“I’m not sure what happened after we were in the portal.”

“Did your father open the portal?”

She shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “He said that I did.”

He looked more curious than astonished by her revelation. “Is that how you took us to Nevada when I was unconscious?”

“No. An imp opened that one.” She was struck by a sudden thought. She’d been so worried about Roke dying that she’d forgotten the sensation of the imp’s magic sinking inside her, as if she were claiming it for her own. “Although, I think I must have . . . absorbed how he weaved his magic when he created it,” she said slowly.

Roke frowned, trying to work through her babbling. “What imp?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She didn’t want to discuss her weird, rapidly changing powers. Not now. “Once we were in the portal we were separated. You came here and I ended up in an illusion created by my father.”

His thumb brushed the line of her jaw. “Tell me about him.”

She relished the soothing caress. The mating between her and Roke might be fake, but the comfort he offered her was very real.

As long as he was near, the world seemed . . . right.

“He’s beautiful,” she said.

A faint smile curved his lips, his gaze sweeping over her face.

“That much I expected.”

“No.” She gave a firm shake of her head. “Not just pretty, but so beautiful it’s almost painful to look at him,” she said. “And he smelled like wine.”

The silver gaze continued to sweep over her face, as if he was seeing her for the first time.

“So you’re the daughter of a Chatri.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“It explains why the fey were going crazy,” he murmured. “You’re royalty to them.”

“So Sariel claimed,” she muttered. Roke raised his brows in a silent question. “He said he was the King of the Chatri,” she clarified.

His thumb moved to trace her lower lip. “If you expect me to bow to you, you can forget it.”

She shivered, remembering the bizarre behavior of the fey over the past few days. She’d survived her entire life by fading into the background.

Being forced to become the center of attention felt like someone had just painted a big, fat bull’s-eye on her back.

“I don’t want anyone bowing to me.” Another shiver. “It’s creepy.”

Roke’s eyes darkened as he felt her burst of fear. “Did he have a purpose in revealing himself to you?”

“Oh yes.” Her lips twisted into a humorless smile. “I doubt my father has ever done anything without a purpose.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He told me that he’d been captured by some mysterious enemy when the rest of his people left our world and that he was trapped in a portal.”

“Trapped?” Roke frowned. “How’s that possible?”

“I don’t have a clue.”

“What did he want from you?”

“He wants me to follow the map on the box and rescue him.”

She was still speaking when he gave a decisive shake of his head.

“No.”

She lifted her head off his chest, her eyes narrowed with warning.

“It’s not your decision, Roke.”

“He made you sad,” he growled, his hand lowering to circle her throat in a gesture of pure possession. “I can feel it.”

“Not sad . . .” She searched for the right word. “Disappointed.”

“Why?”

“I spent a lifetime clinging to the hope I had a father out there who cared about me.” She gave a sharp laugh. “So stupid.”

He scowled, leaning down until they were nose to nose. “You’re not stupid, my love. Never that.”

“Fathers who care don’t abandon their children.” She breathed deeply of Roke’s scent. Cold steel and raw male power. She’d been furious with him in Nevada, even permitting Zoe’s deceitful accusations to cloud her mind with doubts. Now she clung to their bond, using his steady presence to shield her from the pain of dying dreams. “I knew that on some level, but there was still a part of me who wanted to cling to hope. Now I have no choice. Sariel’s only interest in me is what I can do for him.”

He dipped his head down to press his lips to her temple. “Then why would you want to help him?”

“Because we need him.”

He stilled, his mouth resting against her skin. “For what?”

“To break our mating.”

“No.”

The barked denial was flying from his lips before he could soften it.

Not that he wanted to soften it.

His entire body hummed with fury at the mere mention of breaking their mating.

Dammit. He’d just gotten her back in his arms. There was no way in hell she was going to get rid of him.

She belonged to him.

On a deep, cellular level that wasn’t going to be ended no matter what hocus-pocus she might learn from her bastard of a father.

“Again, not your decision,” she said, clearly annoyed.

He pulled back, studying her with a brooding frown.

She looked tired, with purple shadows beneath her eyes.

Even her delicate face was more pale than normal. Which was the only reason he was struggling to leash his fury at the mere suggestion of breaking their bond.

“What happens to our mating is very much my decision,” he managed to say in a remarkably calm voice.

She jutted her chin to a stubborn angle, the damp strands of her hair shimmering with hidden fire in the dim light.

“You want it broken and the only way to do that is to have my father show me how,” she said.

His hand slid to her nape, delighting in the satin heat of her skin.

“We can discuss it later,” he smoothly assured her, the intoxicating scent of peaches becoming a distinct distraction.

Well, the scent of peaches and the half-naked female body that he craved to have beneath him while he proved that there was no magic that could end the hunger that burned between them.

“Later? You happen to know another Chatri we can ask?” she muttered.

He allowed his lips to graze down her temple to the curve of her ear.

“I have more important matters to worry about.”

She trembled, the sound of her rapid heartbeat music to his ears. Her expression might be one of stubborn indifference, but her body was giving him all the encouragement he needed.

“I doubt that your clan thinks there is anything more important.” She deliberately reminded him of the torture his clan had forced her to endure. “They hate me.”

Or maybe she was reminding herself of why their mating should be broken.

In either case, he wasn’t going to let his people stand between them.

“Styx has already made certain they won’t dare try to hurt you again,” he promised with a harsh sincerity.

The Anasso hadn’t been amused when Roke confessed that Sally had been locked away and beaten. Styx, however, had convinced Roke to allow him to deal with the situation rather than letting Roke go postal on them.

Except for Zoe and Dyson.

Roke had taken great pleasure in making that phone call personally.

“How?” Sally demanded, her tone defensive. “They’re convinced I’ve put you under a spell.”

“He announced you were under his protection and any vampire who tried to hurt you would suffer his wrath.” Roke grimaced. “No one wants that.”

Sally shrugged. “Zoe might be willing to risk pissing off the Anasso if it meant getting rid of me.”

“I spoke to Zoe.” He shook his head as he recalled the female vampire’s frantic pleas to be forgiven. He’d underestimated her raw ambition to become his lover. Not just because she desired him, but because she lusted for the power he wielded. Which only proved that he’d been a fool to think he could control destiny. Zoe might have been what he thought he needed, but she could never have been what he truly wanted. Sally was what he wanted. “She and Dyson have been ordered to find a new clan.”

Sally’s eyes widened in shock. “But—”

“Yes?”

She looked . . . flustered, obviously not having expected to have the roadblock so easily knocked aside.

Then, she swiftly latched on to the next available excuse to keep him at a distance.

“You were the one who was having a hissy fit when I accidentally caused the mating,” she accused.

He arched a brow. “Hissy fit?”

“I thought you were desperate to get rid of me.”

His fingers trailed down her spine, dipping beneath the towel she’d wrapped around her damp body.

“Maybe I’m used to having you around.”

Her breath fractured, her eyes darkening with desire. “You just said you wanted an obedient sheep for a mate.”

“I said that’s what I thought I wanted.” His finger tugged at the towel, loosening it as his lips brushed over her cheek. “I’ve discovered there are benefits to having an autumn-haired beauty creating passionate chaos in my very boring existence.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to put myself in danger,” she said, her voice thickening, the enticing scent of her arousal perfuming the air.

“I’m saying it because it’s true.” His tongue teased at the pulse racing at the base of her neck. “And for the record, you’re not going to put yourself in danger.”

She made a sound of annoyance. “We may be temporarily mated, but you’re not the boss of me.”

“I just got you back, Sally.” With one smooth motion he had her flat on her back and he was straddling her hips. Holding her startled gaze, he pulled off the towel. “Don’t push me.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “Roke, what are you doing?”

With tender care he allowed his fingers to trace the prominent line of her collarbone, his cock already fully erect and throbbing to be deep inside her.

It wasn’t sex.

It was a critical need to be intimately connected to her. To reassure himself that she was here and that nothing was going to take her away from him.

“Making sure you weren’t hurt,” he murmured, taking a long minute to appreciate the sight of her spread beneath him.

The glorious gold and red satin of her hair spread across the white pillow. The dark eyes softened with a desire she couldn’t deny. Her ivory skin flushing with rising excitement.

“I told you I wasn’t,” she husked.

With a wicked chuckle he bent down to stroke his tongue over the tip of her rose-tinted nipple.

“Some things I need to see for myself,” he murmured, capturing the nipple between his lips until she arched beneath him in pleasure.

“With your lips?”

“Mmm.” He kissed a path down her stomach, using his fangs to lightly scrape over her skin. “And other body parts.”

She groaned, her hands grabbing the sheet beneath her in a death grip.

“We’re discussing how we can break the mating,” she breathed, her voice unsteady.

He lifted his head to stab her with a fierce glare. One more word about breaking their bond and he was going to sink his fangs deep into her neck and make certain there was no going back.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was the female fate had intended for him.

“No, you were assuming I’m in a hurry to break our mating and I’m proving we have all the time in the world.”

She bit her bottom lip, the vulnerability she struggled so hard to hide softening her expression.

“Because you want to have sex with me?”

“Because I’m not ready to let you go,” he admitted with blunt honesty, lowering his head to return to his determined path down her quivering body.

“Oh . . .” She breathed, her body melting as she willingly allowed him to spread her legs and discover the welcome heat of her core. “Goddess.”

Clamping his hands on her hips to keep her in place, Roke glanced up the length of her beautiful body, holding her darkened gaze.

“There’s a good chance I’m never going to let you go, my love.”