Hunt the Darkness

Chapter Eight

It took almost two hours to reach the wharf that was built on a bleak stretch of rocky beach and another quarter of an hour for the boat to navigate the rough waves. But at last they reached the small island just off the coast.

Tugging the hand of a reluctant Sally, Roke led her past the weaves of illusion that fooled the human eye into believing there was nothing more than an abandoned lighthouse on the island and entered Pandora’s Box.

Instantly they were surrounded by a soaring Greek temple filled with amphitheaters where naked water sprites danced and heated baths came complete with beautiful nymphs.

As they entered the massive foyer, toga-clad slaves appeared before them, offering glasses of champagne or, for him, a sip of blood from their throat. Most vampires preferred their drinks straight from the tap.

Roke hastily waved them away, sensing Sally’s swelling fear.

She had every reason to distrust vampires and he’d just brought her to a place filled with dozens of his brothers, all indulging in their most primitive desires.

Unfortunately for her, it was the one place close enough to meet with Cyn where they could be assured of safety.

Nothing would be capable of slipping past the defenses that surrounded the island. Both magical and physical.

As if to prove the point, an exquisite blond vampire sashayed into the foyer, her lush body barely covered by her gold lamé toga and her porcelain face beautiful enough for an angel. But the near-black eyes were hard and merciless as she scanned her surroundings.

Bliss had once worked for Viper in his Chicago club, and the lethal predator had proven a talent for creating an atmosphere that had demons flocking to enjoy the entertainments. She’d also revealed an innate cunning that Viper was swift to appreciate.

He’d given her a small fortune and told her to create a fantasy.

An order she had more than fulfilled.

Crossing the marble floor, Bliss allowed a smile to curl her lips.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she murmured, her low voice an invitation to sex as she slid her cold gaze toward Sally. “Did you want your dinner cleaned and put in costume? She would make a pretty enough slave girl.”

Sally stiffened, outrage overcoming her fear. “Slave girl?”

He placed an arm around her. Not only from the need to publicly claim her as his property, but to keep her from doing something impulsive.

His mate was just crazy enough to launch a spell that would wreak havoc and end up getting them both killed.

“We aren’t here for the entertainment,” he informed Bliss, not surprised when she strolled forward to run a crimson-painted nail down the leather of his jacket.

He’d crossed paths with the beautiful vampire several years ago and she’d made it clear she wouldn’t say no to some up close and personal attention.

“Are you sure?” She parted her lips to expose her extended fangs. “I do private shows for very special customers.”

He grasped her fingers that had roamed beneath his jacket, his expression hard with warning.

“I need a private room and a human dinner,” he commanded, glancing toward Sally who was staring at the far wall with a fierce pretense of indifference. “With apple pie.”

Bliss scowled, not pleased at being rebuffed.

It didn’t happen often.

Probably never.

“I have no idea if we have apple pie or not.”

He allowed his power to rattle the priceless marble statues set in shallow alcoves.

“Order out.”

Realizing he wasn’t playing, Bliss went from offended female to gracious hostess.

“Your wish is our command.” Turning with a fluid grace, she headed toward a pair of fluted columns that opened into a hallway. “This way.”

“Has Cyn arrived?” he demanded, his arm remaining around Sally’s rigid shoulders as he urged her to follow Bliss’s brisk pace.

“Yes, he’s enjoying the baths.”

Roke rolled his eyes. Typical. Cyn was a born hedonist who indulged his varied passions whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He would have to fetch the vampire and bring him to Sally, even if it did mean leaving her alone.

There was no way in hell he was exposing her to the sight of dozens of vampires lost in their bloodlust.

Pushing open a door, Bliss stood aside to wave them into the room that reflected the theme of a Greek villa. A circular space, it had an abundance of marble with fluted columns and a domed ceiling that was painted with a half-naked Pandora opening her box to release chaos.

Thankfully, the stark room was furnished with several white sofas circling a crackling fire that burned in a pit in the center of the marble floor.

Sally should be comfortable enough while he went in search of Cyn.

Turning toward the female vampire who hovered near the door, he allowed her to glimpse the predator inside him that would destroy anyone or anything that threatened his mate.

“This woman is under my protection. I would be very displeased if anything were to happen under your watch.”

“She’ll be safe,” Bliss promised, sliding a cunning glance toward the pale-faced Sally before returning her attention to him. “You, however, might get a little roughed up before I’m done with you.”

The husky promise was still floating in the air as Bliss closed the door, leaving him alone with a female who had already threatened to turn him into something nasty.

Slowly turning, he met her icy glare.

“A friend of yours?” she demanded in overly sweet tones.

“No,” he denied without hesitation.

He wouldn’t play games, not with this.

“She acts like she knows you very well.”

He shrugged. “Our paths crossed several decades ago. I wasn’t interested then, and I’m not interested now.”

She glanced down at the music box clutched tightly in her hands. “She’s very beautiful.”

He stepped forward, his fingers cupping her chin to tilt back her head. His brooding gaze swept over her fragile features, lingering with regret on her guarded expression. She wouldn’t soon forgive or forget his rejection.

“But she’s not you.”

Her eyes darkened. “I would think that was a big fat bonus.”

“Never.” His thumb brushed her lower lip. “I want you. No one else.”

She frowned in understandable confusion.

Shit.

He was worse than an angsty teenage girl.

Logic told him to keep her at a distance, but his instincts refused to obey. He was desperate to pull her into his arms and offer her the comfort she needed.

“Roke—”

“You’ll be protected here,” he interrupted. One disaster at a time. “Bliss might be a pain in the ass, but she wouldn’t be in charge of Viper’s club unless she was one hundred percent loyal to him.”

He turned back toward the door, pulling it open.

“Wait.” Sally took a step forward. “Where are you going?”

“To find Cyn.”

“Shouldn’t I go with you?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Have you ever been in a vampire club?”

She grimaced. “Of course not.”

“Then trust me, you’ll be happier waiting here.”

“Why?”

“There are . . . activities I doubt you would approve of.”

“Oh.” Her eyes narrowed. “And that’s the only reason you want me to stay here?”

His face hardened to a grim mask, as he abruptly realized that it wasn’t just her virtue he was trying to protect. It was his peace of mind.

The mere thought of parading her through a crowd of amped-up vampires was enough to make his inner demon snap and snarl.

“No, I don’t want other males to see you.”

She looked offended. “Are you ashamed to be seen with a witch?”

“No, I’m damned well not ashamed,” he growled. “I’m protecting what’s mine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that one accidental touch and they would be dead.”

“Oh.” She blinked, her mouth parting at his brutal honesty. “That’s . . . crazy.”

His gaze lowered to the sensuous curve of her lips. Lips that had driven him to paradise only hours ago.

And that swiftly he was hard and aching.

“You’re mine,” he rasped.

“Don’t say things like that.”

He gave a humorless laugh as he shoved up the sleeve of his jacket to expose his mating mark.

“You claimed me as yours, my love. Now you can deal with the consequences.”

Without giving her time to respond, he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him.

For a long minute he hesitated, caught by the scent of peaches that filled the air.

Had the fragrance grown richer? More provocative?

His fangs extended, his body aching to return to her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and shatter the barrier that he’d placed between them.

Instead, he gestured toward the hovering vampires who’d obviously been sent by Bliss to stand guard.

“Nothing gets past you,” he growled in warning, waiting for their nods before he headed toward the back of the long building.

Eventually the marble floor was replaced by beautiful ceramic tiles and the air filled with a damp heat.

Toga-clad servants lined the walls, offering a smorgasbord of food and drinks and nubile young bodies.

At Pandora’s Box, everything was on the menu.

He stepped through a double set of columns to enter the formal baths, bypassing the public orgy that was currently occupying the main bath, which was the size of an Olympic pool, and heading toward the more private rooms.

He at last located Cyn in a corner room that offered a view of the moon-kissed waves that swirled around the island and the star-spangled sky.

In the middle of the orange and black mosaic tiled floor was a shallow pool. At the moment it was surrounded by a hundred candles flickering in the cool breeze that swept through the open windows.

And in the center of the pool was a large vampire surrounded by two buxom nymphs.

Roke halted at the edge of the pool, giving a shake of his head.

Cyn, clan chief of Ireland, was an impressive sight.

Six-foot-three with a powerful chest and the thick muscles of an ancient berserker, Cyn had a thick mane of dark blond hair that flowed halfway down his back except for the front strands that had been woven into tight braids that framed his face.

His features were blunt with a square jaw and high cheekbones. His brow was wide and his jade green eyes heavily lashed. Some might consider his mouth too lush for a warrior and his nose carved in an arrogant line, but few would mistake him for anything but a ruthless killer.

His skin was a perfect alabaster with a series of ancient Tuatha Dé Danann tattoos that curled and swirled in a narrow green pattern around his upper arms.

Leaning against the edge of the bath with his naked body sprawled beneath the blue water, Cyn had his arms around the two equally naked nymphs who pressed their impressive breasts against his chest.

Both females were blond, but one had the usual blue eyes of a nymph while the other had gray eyes.

Never let it be said that Cyn wasn’t an equal opportunity hedonist.

The Irish vampire smiled, displaying a set of pearly white fangs.

“Roke, welcome.”

“Cyn.” Roke shifted his gaze toward the gray-eyed nymph who was batting her lashes in open invitation. “Am I interrupting?”

“Join us,” Cyn murmured, his voice deep and laced with an accent that hadn’t been heard in Ireland in over a thousand years. “There’s plenty to go around.”

“A generous offer, but we need to talk.” Roke folded his arms over his chest, his expression stoic. “In private.”

Cyn rolled his eyes. “You always were a party pooper.”

Roke arched a brow. “Party pooper?”

“Stick in the mud. Killjoy. Sourpuss.”

“Not all of us enjoy drunken orgies that include glimpses of your hairy white ass.”

“I have a fine ass,” the vampire protested, smiling toward the blue-eyed nymph. “Fiona here can’t keep her hands off it.”

Roke shrugged. “I prefer my pleasures be enjoyed with less water and fewer spectators.”

Cyn gave a sharp laugh. “Fair enough.” Rising to his feet he gestured to bimbo one and bimbo two. “Take a break, lassies.” Waiting for the females to reluctantly straighten, he laid a smacking kiss on Fiona’s pouting lips. “Don’t go far.”

With shrill giggles the nymphs hurried from the room, not bothering with clothes.

Roke grimaced. “How do you stand the noise?”

Cyn reached for a heated towel, wiping the water from his massive body.

“Didn’t you see those titties? Who the hell cares about giggles when you can have those as your personal plush toys?”

Roke was briefly assaulted by the memory of Sally’s slender body and breasts that fit in his hands with delicate perfection. Who wanted plush toys when you could have masterpieces?

He shivered, trying to ignore the hunger stirring deep inside.

“You never change,” he muttered.

Cyn narrowed his gaze, his amusement fading. “You have.”

Yeah. No shit.

“Get dressed and I’ll take you to the box.”

“What’s the point in putting on clothes?” Cyn shrugged. “I doubt I’ll shock anyone in this place and I intend to return to finish what I began with the nymphs once we’re done.”

Roke stiffened, the ground giving a tiny quake. “The point is you’re not getting anywhere close to Sally until you’re fully clothed.”

“She hasn’t seen a naked vampire?” Cyn unwittingly took his life in his hands as he stepped toward the door. “Maybe I should . . .” Roke was moving before he was even aware of what he was doing, pinning the massive vampire to the wall with one hand clenched around his throat. “Bloody hell,” Cyn rasped.

“I’m not entirely stable right now,” Roke confessed, his bloodlust simmering just below boil. “Don’t push me.”

Cyn scowled, his own power sending warning sparks of pain through Roke’s fingers and down his arm.

“So it’s true,” he growled. “That witch forced you into a mating.”

“It’s . . .” Roke dropped his hand, suddenly feeling weary. “Complicated.”

Styx’s lair in Chicago

Styx hadn’t been pleased when his mate had insisted that he leave behind the caves that had been his former lair. Darcy was convinced that he had a duty to his position as Anasso and had swiftly moved them into this house that looked like something Tony Montana in Scarface would own.

The marble, the gilt, and the priceless antiques were bad enough, but it was big enough and comfortable enough to encourage unwelcome visitors to linger far past their use-by date.

The current unwelcome visitors were Darcy’s mother, Sophia, and her new mate, Luc.

Styx had yet to forgive his mother-in-law for her participation in trying to force Darcy into the arms of the King of Weres, but for the sake of marital harmony (which was necessary to make sure he wasn’t kicked out of his bed) he’d agreed to grin and bear Sophia’s presence.

He hadn’t, however, agreed to watching the two painting one another’s toenails while they gorged on chocolate-covered strawberries.

Instead he retreated to his library hoping to find some peace and quiet, only to discover Viper waiting for him.

The current clan chief of Chicago wasn’t as large as Styx, but there was an unmistakable ripple of hard muscles beneath the ruffled white silk shirt and black satin slacks. His pale silver hair was worn long and his eyes were as dark as the night sky.

At the moment his hauntingly beautiful face was distracted as he stood beside the window overlooking the rose garden.

“I didn’t expect you,” Styx murmured, moving to stand beside his friend. “Is there trouble?”

Viper shook his head, his voice pitched so it wouldn’t carry to the various demons who strolled through the vast house.

“Not trouble, but I thought you would want to know that I was contacted by Bliss to tell me that she had an unexpected visitor at Pandora’s Box.”

Styx frowned. The name was vaguely familiar.

“Is that one of your clubs?”

“The one in Canada.”

Styx smiled with wry humor. He’d been to the club once.

Roman baths and half-dressed nymphs weren’t really his thing.

He was more a find-an-enemy-and-stab-it-with-his big-ass-sword kind of guy.

“Only you could take a frozen piece of rock and turn it into a fortune,” he said.

“I’m a man of many talents,” Viper smugly agreed.

“So who was this unexpected guest?”

“Cyn.”

“Not that unusual,” Styx pointed out. He’d only run across the path of the clan chief of Ireland on a handful of occasions, but each time Cyn had been draped in naked women. “The bastard has always enjoyed the sort of entertainment you provide.”

“Well, who wouldn’t?”

Styx snorted. “Do you have a point?”

“He said he was meeting Roke there.”

“Why?”

“Something about fey glyphs.”

Styx frowned. Fey glyphs? What did they have to do with locating Sally’s father?

“Did he say—”

Without warning the stench of brimstone filled the air and Styx was whirling toward the center of the room, cursing Darcy for making him leave his sword locked in their room. She had the ridiculous fear he might stab her mother.

Well, maybe it wasn’t entirely ridiculous.

Still, he deeply regretted the lack of a tangible weapon as he flinched beneath the blast of nuclear power that could only come from an Oracle.

“Christ,” Viper muttered, both of them staring at the tiny demon covered by a white robe, her long gray braid hanging down her back and her oblong black eyes holding an ancient knowledge.

Siljar might be the size of a small child, but she had enough strength to squash them like bugs.

“Styx.” The Oracle gave a small bow toward Styx and then his companion. “Viper.”

“Siljar.” He leashed his instinct to destroy the unexpected intruder. Vampires didn’t like people popping in. Actually, most pop-ins usually ended up with their heads chopped off. “This is a surprise.”

She regarded him with a steady black gaze. “I wished to keep our meeting a secret.”

“Ah.” Viper made a beeline toward the door. “That’s my cue to leave the two of you alone.”

“No.” Siljar brought a sharp halt to his exit. “You might be of service.”

“Yeah, get your ass back here,” Styx growled, waiting until Viper had grudgingly made his way back to his side before he asked the question he soooo did not want to ask. “How can we help?”

Siljar lifted her hand, giving a small gesture that shut and locked the door.

“What is said here must not go any further.”

Styx’s annoyance was replaced by a surge of concern. An appearance by Siljar always meant trouble, but tonight she looked even more grim than usual.

“Understood.”

“I am uneasy,” she admitted.

Styx shot Viper a worried frown.

“Has something happened?” the clan chief asked.

Siljar folded her hands at her waist. “Several somethings, but nothing I can bring into focus.”

Styx touched the amulet that hung from a leather band tied around his neck. Why the hell did Oracles always have to speak in vague warnings?

“I don’t understand.”

Something that was almost an emotion touched Siljar’s childlike features.

“There have been petitioners that have arrived at the caves only to disappear.”

“Dead?” Styx demanded in surprise.

Every demon knew that petitioners to the Commission were off-limits.

Not even a battle-raged Orc would defy the Oracles.

Siljar grimaced. “Or worse.”

Worse than death?

Shit.

“Is there a pattern?” he demanded.

“They’re all fey.”

“Fey?” Styx frowned. “If there is someone or something killing the fey shouldn’t you be discussing the problem with their leaders?” he demanded only to be hit in the side by Viper’s elbow.

“What?”

That’d been diplomatic, hadn’t it?

At least for him.

Siljar shook her head. “I can’t be certain how far the corruption has penetrated.”

Styx hid his grimace. He hated vampire politics, but fey affairs made his own seem tame by comparison.

By nature the fey were cunning, treacherous, and utterly fickle. It was impossible to pinpoint their loyalty.

It shifted like the wind.

“What do you want us to do?”

Siljar paused, her eyes shifting toward a silent Viper before returning to him.

“I think a squabble would be just the thing,” she at last murmured.

Styx waited. That was it?

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Having two alphas in the same city is bound to create tension,” she said, as if that explained everything.

Viper blinked. Not a necessary vampire function, but the elders instinctively maintained the image of a living human no matter where they were.

“You want the two of us to fight?”

She offered a smile, flashing her pointed teeth. “It doesn’t have to be a physical battle, but it must be convincing enough that it’s worthy of petitioning the Commission.”

Styx lifted a brow. “At the caves?”

“How else can we discover who is behind the disappearances?”

With the impatient question still ringing in the air, Siljar lifted her hand and . . . disappeared.

Poof.

Gone.

“Shit, I hate when she does that,” Viper muttered.

“It could be worse,” Styx growled. “She could still be here.”

Viper threw his hands in the air, heading toward the door. “Next time I need to speak with you I’m sending you a text.”

“At least you get to pretend to be pissed at me,” Styx said to the retreating back.

“Who’s pretending?”