Hunt the Darkness

Chapter Twenty-One

Sally clutched the box in her hand as she crept down the grand staircase.

She didn’t really think she could slip through a household of vampires unnoticed. Even if the house wasn’t wired with high-tech security, they would be able to hear her every footstep, her every breath, and every beat of her heart. Not to mention catching her scent from a freaking mile away.

Yeah. There was no sneaking in a vampire house, but she did hope to do some quick research while Roke was otherwise occupied.

Her mate wasn’t going to be pleased when he realized she hadn’t given up her determination to find her father. She grimaced. Not pleased, was the understatement of the century.

He was going to do everything in his power to try to stop her.

Brooding on the upcoming battle, Sally reached the landing and turned toward the hallway leading toward the library before she realized there was a slender figure waiting in a shallow alcove. She came to an abrupt halt, watching the man stroll forward with a wary expression.

He was . . . exotic, to say the least.

She’d never seen hair so red that it glowed beneath the light of the crystal chandelier. Or eyes that exact shade of emerald. And that outfit . . .

The shirt was a flimsy see-through material to emphasize his surprisingly muscular chest and matched with zebra spandex pants that looked like they’d been spray-painted on him.

All in all, he was designed to capture attention.

“There you are.” Without warning the stranger performed a deep bow. “I have been waiting.”

She held up a warning hand. “Please, don’t come any closer.”

Straightening, the man took a deliberate step backward, although he ran an avid gaze over her slender form.

“Forgive me. I just wanted a glimpse.”

She resisted the urge to glance down and make sure she was fully covered. It had been less than a half hour ago that she’d dressed in the jeans and Chicago Bears sweatshirt she’d found in the closet of her bedroom. She’d even found a pair of comfortable running shoes.

She knew quite well she was adequately covered.

“A glimpse of what?” she demanded.

“You.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Are you kidding?” The emerald eyes widened. “You must know you’re like a goddess to my people.”

Sally shivered, wrapping defensive arms around her waist. This whole new gig as the daughter of a Chatri was making her feel terrifyingly exposed.

“Oh. I—” She licked her dry lips.

Perhaps sensing she was on the point of bolting, the creature held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Troy, the Prince of Imps,” he murmured, a hint of wicked sensuality sparkling in the emerald eyes. “And you are Sally.”

Troy? A portion of her unease faded. This was the imp that Levet had said could help them.

“Did Roke invite you?”

He rolled his eyes, clearly familiar with her mate.

“It wasn’t precisely an invitation. He was less than pleased when you didn’t arrive in Chicago with him,” he said dryly. “He hoped I could help locate you.”

Ah. She grimaced. She hadn’t actually considered Roke’s reaction when he’d arrived in Chicago only to find she was missing.

His response had no doubt been . . . epic.

The poor imp was lucky he was still in one piece.

“I can imagine.” She wrinkled her nose. “I should probably apologize for him. Roke can be—”

“Rude, bad tempered, impossibly arrogant?” Troy helpfully supplied.

She smiled with rueful humor. “All of the above.”

Troy waved a dismissive hand. “There’s no need for an apology. I’m accustomed to leeches. They’re all the same.” The emerald gaze swept over her pale face with an unnerving intensity. “And to be honest, I wouldn’t have missed this no matter how annoying my companions might be. It’s . . .” He sucked in a deep breath, his expression bemused. “Remarkable.”

Her unease returned. “What is?”

“Your power feels like lightning dancing over me. It’s intoxicating.” Troy closed his eyes, shivering with blatant pleasure. “I understand why my ancestors would have worshiped you.”

Crap. If she’d been any other woman she’d probably be delighted by the thought of being royalty or even a virtual goddess. Who didn’t want to be treated as if she were something special?

But she wasn’t any other woman.

She was Sally Grace.

The girl who’d survived by being invisible.

“Please don’t say stuff like that,” she muttered.

Genuine regret touched the imp’s lean, too-pretty features. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not used to . . .” She gave a helpless shrug. “Attention.”

Troy tilted his head to the side, the crimson braids brushing over his broad shoulders.

“Unfortunate considering you’re going to be attracting every fey in the area,” he murmured, glancing toward the high, arched windows that framed the double doors. “They’re already starting to surround the estate.”

“Hell.” She shivered, considering the very real possibility of returning to her room and barricading the door. Cowardly? Maybe. Okay. Definitely. She heaved a sigh. A damned shame it wasn’t a viable option. “I never wanted this.”

Troy offered a rueful smile. “You’ll eventually settle into your powers and they won’t be so loudly broadcasted. Until then the vampires will keep all but the most persistent away.”

She shook her head. “I can’t hide here waiting for my powers to settle.”

Troy blinked, seemingly surprised that she didn’t intend to cower behind Styx’s layers of security.

“You have someplace you need to be?”

She hesitated, remembering Sariel’s anger when he’d realized that the box he’d bound to her was no longer a secret. He clearly didn’t want people knowing that he was trapped.

Then, she gave a shrug.

What did it matter how many knew of his imprisonment if she couldn’t figure out how to rescue him?

And Troy, the Prince of Imps, could provide her with far more information than any book she might be able to find in Styx’s library.

Holding the emerald gaze, she confessed the truth.

“My father is being held captive. I need to help him.”

“Captive?” Shock rippled over the pale face before Troy was abruptly narrowing his emerald gaze. “Wait. Does Roke know about this?”

She tilted her chin, her deeply entrenched sense of independence instantly outraged by the question.

“Roke is my mate, not my keeper.”

Troy snorted. “He’s a vampire.”

“Yeah, I had noticed.”

He studied her stubborn expression before giving a slow nod of his head.

“Very well,” he said, his tone implying she was playing with fire. Something she didn’t need pointed out. “Do you know where your father is?”

“No.” She held up the box. “This is supposed to lead me to him.”

Troy stilled, his gaze attached to the box that shimmered with magic.

“May I approach?” His voice was low, reverent.

She gave a nod. “Yes.”

With slow steps, Troy crossed the marble floor, halting when he was a few inches from her.

“I’ve never been near a defaro when it’s connected to a Chatri,” he murmured.

Defaro. Sally frowned, her fingers unconsciously stroking the box.

“Is that what this is called?”

“Yes. I have several in my collection.”

Her lips twisted into a rueful smile, wondering if fate had crossed her path with Troy just when she needed him, or if her father had somehow manipulated her yet again.

And did it matter?

She pushed aside the niggling worry to brood on later.

“Can you read the glyphs?”

“Only a few.” Troy lifted his head to meet her steady gaze. “Why?”

“I need to figure out how to decipher the map,” she said. “Until then I can’t do anything to help my father.”

“You don’t need to read the glyphs to follow the map.”

She glanced at the box, searching for something besides the glyphs that might be a map.

“I don’t understand.”

“The glyphs will lead you in the right direction without being able to read them.”

She made a sound of irritation, holding the box toward the imp.

“Show me.”

Troy held a slender hand over the box, careful not to touch the wood that glowed with her father’s power. Leaning down he spoke a foreign word that resonated deep inside her.

The box grew warm in her hand and Troy stepped back. “Keep your eye on the glyphs and walk across the room,” he said, waiting until she’d reached the double doors before speaking again. “Now this way.”

She walked back toward the imp, her breath catching as she turned the box over to discover one corner had changed colors.

“This glyph is glowing brighter.”

“Northwest,” Troy said. “It’s leading you in the right direction.”

Sally frowned. “So it’s like a game of hot-hot-cold?”

Troy blinked. “I never thought about it like that, but yes, it’s similar.”

“That doesn’t seem very efficient,” she muttered. “Why not draw a map like a normal person?”

“Security.”

She furrowed her brow. “Glowing glyphs don’t seem particularly secure.”

“They only glow when you’re holding the box,” Troy explained, reaching to gently take the box from her hand. “Watch.”

The second her hand left the box, the glyph returned to its previous color.

“Oh.” She reached to take back the box, too distracted to notice the sudden drop in the temperature. “So I just wander around the countryside following the glowing box?”

“No. Way. In. Hell,” a familiar voice warned as Roke stepped into the foyer.

Roke knew he was handling Sally all wrong. It didn’t take a genius to know that the one certain way to make her do what he didn’t want her to do was to tell her she couldn’t do it.

But dammit, she was making him nuts.

Why would she even think about trying to help a father who considered her nothing more than a means to his escape?

And that’s exactly what she was plotting.

Why else would she be with the damned imp learning how to use the map on her box?

Moving forward, he pointed a finger at Troy. “Leave us,” he growled.

The imp gave a toss of his crimson braids, but blowing a kiss in his direction, he turned to sashay down the hallway.

With a sound of disgust, Roke moved to stand in front of his mate, matching her glare for glare.

“Are you having fun tossing around your orders?” she demanded.

“Not particularly.” He reached to touch her cheek, hiding a rueful smile at the scent of scorched peaches that filled the air. “Have you had dinner?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she snapped.

He leaned until they were nose to nose. “The only subject I care about is why you’re so determined to put yourself in danger.”

She stepped back, a mutinous frown pulling her brows together.

“I can’t just pretend my only family isn’t being held prisoner and that he needs me.”

His fingers slid beneath her chin as he held her wary gaze. “I’m your family.”

“Only because I forced a mating on you.”

“No.” He pressed his thumb to her lips, angered by her insistence on dwelling on how the mating had started. It was meaningless. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It isn’t. This . . .” His lips twisted as he struggled to find the word that expressed his volatile reaction when he’d first caught sight of her in Styx’s dungeon. “Attraction between us started before we mated.”

She shook her head, but he didn’t miss the abrupt sizzle of awareness that heated their bond.

She recalled their first meeting as vividly as he did.

“You didn’t even know me,” she tried to protest. “I was a prisoner that you resented even being near.”

His thumb stroked her bottom lip. “It’s true I resented you, but not for the reason you think.”

“You didn’t want to babysit a witch.”

His lips twisted. That’s what he’d told himself. And anyone else who would listen.

He was supposed to be impervious to his emotions.

“The minute I caught sight of you, I was captivated.”

She made a sound of disbelief. “You were a complete jackass.”

“True.” He could hardly deny his fierce attempt to reject what was happening to him. “I spent several centuries convinced I’d purged my baser instincts. It was an unpleasant shock to have that belief shattered by a tiny scrap of a female with a smartass mouth and enough power to turn me into a newt.”

She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t sound captivated.”

“I couldn’t get you out of my thoughts no matter how I tried,” he continued, his brooding gaze sweeping over her delicate features. That beautiful face had been seared into his brain the moment he’d caught sight of her, tormenting him with a craving to possess her that refused to leave him in peace. “And when I found that damn fairy bringing you a tray of food I nearly ripped out his throat. No one was allowed to take care of your needs but me.” He gave a rueful laugh. “I knew I was in trouble from the start, but I couldn’t stay away.”

A hint of yearning softened her dark eyes, as if longing to believe his confession. And then, abruptly, she was giving a shake of her head, clearly preparing to change the subject.

“Roke . . .”

He swooped down to plunder her mouth with a kiss that stole her words. Her hands instinctively lifted to clutch his shoulders, her lips parting in astonishment. Only when he felt her tremble in answering need did he reluctantly lift his head to study her flushed cheeks.

“That’s better.”

“What are you doing?” she husked.

“You’re going to say something I don’t want to hear,” he confessed.

She made a choked sound. “And you think kissing me is going to stop me from saying it?”

His gaze lingered on her soft lips, his body reacting with predictable enthusiasm to having her near.

“I was hoping for a distraction.”

She jutted her chin to a stubborn angle. “That’s not going to change my mind.”

His hand cupped her cheek. “What will?”

“Roke, I have to do this.”

He growled deep in his throat, frustration slamming through him.

“I still don’t understand why,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

She met his smoldering gaze, silently pleading with him to understand.

“You’re not happy with Zoe, right?”

He went rigid at the mere mention of his former clanswoman. “If she has any sense of self-preservation she’ll be careful not to cross my path,” he snarled.

“But if she was in danger you would rush to her rescue, wouldn’t you?”

His frustration amped up another notch, cracking the marble floor beneath their feet.

“It’s not the same,” he mulishly insisted. “Zoe has been a part of my clan for a very long time.”

“She is your duty,” she insisted. “Just as my father is my duty.”

He was shaking his head before she finished. “You don’t even know for sure he’s your father.”

She blinked, as if startled by his words. “Why would he lie?”

“This could be a trap.”

Her hand lifted to lightly touch his cheek. “There’s only one way to find out.”

He rolled his eyes toward the heavens, knowing he was once again defeated by a tiny female witch with velvet brown eyes and an annoying habit of twisting him around her little finger.

“Shit.”