“Enough,” she protested, her voice unsteady as her cheeks flushed with arousal.
“Not nearly,” he muttered, but with a stab of regret, he released her.
The spirit had to be found before it could ignite the humans into mass genocide.
But once it had been destroyed, along with Gaius, then . . .
Then he was going to lock this woman in his private rooms and throw away the key.
Styx’s lair in Chicago
Sally was as miserable as a witch could be.
Roke had done his part. With the natural command of a clan chief he’d managed to convince the guards that Styx wanted to see her in his study. Then, avoiding the plethora of demons, servants, and video cameras, he’d halted only long enough to slip on a leather motorcycle jacket he’d left just outside the dungeon doors, before leading her to a forgotten pantry near the kitchens.
It wasn’t until then that she had discovered that her magic refused to work.
She told herself it had to be some sort of dampening spell despite the lack of hex markings. If Styx had it in the dungeons, why wouldn’t he have it in the rest of the house? It made perfect sense.
But, deep inside she feared the interference wasn’t going to go away even when they were beyond the lair.
She’d never tried to use witch magic when she was using her natural talents.
Crap, crap, crap.
Absently rubbing the sleeve of her sweatshirt where it covered her inner forearm, she once again struggled to conjure a spell of illusion. It should be easy. It was a spell she’d performed a thousand times.
But there was nothing. Nada. Jack-squat.
Her magic was MIA.
And it was driving her crazy.
Almost as crazy as her arm. Why the hell was it itchy?
“How much longer is this going to take?”
With a tiny jolt, she realized that Roke had shifted to stand directly before her, his expression one of tender concern.
“I don’t know,” she muttered, ignoring her stupid stab of guilt. This vampire had held her prisoner, she reminded herself for the hundredth time. Why shouldn’t she do everything in her power to escape? Her sudden inability to conjure a simple spell of illusion had nothing to do with karma. “My magic . . .”
His eyes shimmered with a startlingly pale light in the darkness. “What is it?”
“It’s still muted.” She dropped her head, afraid the lie might be written on her face. “There must be something dampening my powers.”
“Well, Styx is nothing if not thorough.” He thankfully accepted her explanation, brushing a hand down her back in unspoken sympathy. “But, we can’t stay here.”
She bit her lip, afraid of leaving the pantry without her magic protecting them. “What are we going to do?”
“We have to get out of here before the guards realize that you aren’t meeting with the Anasso.”
“Yeah, I got that, but—” Her words broke off as her companion turned toward the shelves of canned food, holding out his hands as he walked from one end of the pantry to another. “Roke?”
“Sssh,” he replied, distracted.
She watched in baffled silence as he continued his pacing, his head tilted to the side so his raven hair brushed his shoulder. He looked like he was searching for something. But what?
French sliced green beans?
“Okay, you’re starting to weird me out,” she said, at last breaking the thick silence.
He chuckled, halting to shove aside the cans. “Have faith, my love.”
My love. She grimaced. Man, but he was going to be sooooo pissed when her spell wore off.
And it would wear off. Even now she could feel her strength fading. In a half hour, maybe less, she would be completely drained and then . . .
She was thankfully distracted as Roke gave a sudden shove on the shelf and a section of the back wall parted with a low groan.
“A hidden door,” she breathed in shock. “How did you know?”
“I have a talent for sensing structural anomalies.” He offered a wicked smile. “Are you impressed?”
She briefly forgot how to breathe. God almighty, he was beautiful. Unreasonably, indecently beautiful, with an ability to make her knees go weak at the most inconvenient times.
“We should go.”
“Be careful,” he warned, pulling the narrow door wide before stepping into the darkness. “You won’t be able to see once the door closes.”
Hesitantly she followed him into the dusty shadows, grimacing at the choking darkness. Although she could see better than humans, she couldn’t match a vampire’s night vision.
“There’s no lights?” she complained, wiping away a cobweb that stuck to her hair.
“No, I would guess that these tunnels were intended for an emergency escape.”
He moved with fluid speed, indifferent to the steep decline of the passageway and the unevenness of the dirt floor.
“Great.” She stumbled over an unseen rock.
“Hold on to me.” He reached a hand back to capture her fingers in a tight grip. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Sally forgot the unnerving darkness and the suspicion that the neglected passageway was filled with creepy crawlies as their hands connected with a shock of raw excitement.
She bit back a small gasp. Blessed goddess. How could such a casual touch make her entire body clench with pleasure?
Roke was the one who was supposed to be under the sway of a binding spell, not her.
Unfortunately, her body didn’t care.
It was ready and eager to respond.
Trying her best to concentrate on anything but the awareness tingling in the pit of her stomach, Sally counted each downward step. They were at least six feet below ground, she judged when the path at last evened out and curved in a northern direction.
They continued on for nearly an hour before Roke at last slowed his steps and came to a halt.
Sally breathed a sigh of relief. Despite her grinding urgency to get away from Styx’s lair, she was increasingly drained by the energy necessary to keep Roke bound by her spell.
Any minute he was going to slip her leash and then . . .
She shivered. It didn’t bear thinking about.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, discreetly removing her hand from his grasp to lean against the dirt wall of the tunnel.
“This is the end of the tunnel,” Roke said, tilting back his head to study the narrow opening directly over him. “There’s an empty building above us.”
She pressed a hand to the stitch in her side. “You’re sure it’s empty?”
“Yes.”
“Thank god,” she muttered. “How far are we from the house?”
He paused, glancing back down the tunnel. “A few miles.”
“I suppose it will have to do.”
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to straighten from the wall. She’d barely taken a step forward, however, when Roke was standing directly in front of her, his hands rubbing up and down her arms.
“Let me go first; I want to make sure it’s safe,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat as she met the pale silver gaze. There were the yummy flutters in the pit of her stomach at his touch, but more than that, there was a sense of . . . rightness.
As if she knew his touch from another time, another place.
“No,” she said, the curt rejection as much for her ridiculous thoughts as his offer.
Jeez. Talk about Stockholm syndrome. Next she would be fantasizing she was his mate.
Almost as if sensing her stupid thoughts, he leaned down to brush his lips over her furrowed brow. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
“Roke.” She grasped the lapels of his leather coat. “Please listen to me.”
His lips skimmed down the length of her nose before nibbling at the edge of her mouth. “Later, my love.”
Her fingers tightened on his jacket, wanting to jerk him even closer so he could kiss her properly. Heck, they were alone in the dark and for the moment they seemed safe enough. Why not enjoy a quick . . .
Wait.
What was she thinking?
“No,” she rasped. “I have to talk to you now.”
He lifted his head, but he remained close enough so that she could see the flash of his fully extended fangs even in the thick shadows. It should have reminded her that he was a lethal predator. Instead all she could think about was the fact he was obviously as aroused as she was.
“What is it?” he asked, the rough edge in his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
Oh, she needed to get away from this man.
Before she did something truly stupid.
“I want you to return to the house.”
He stilled, his expression almost impossible to read in the darkness. “Did you leave something behind?”
She made a sound of self-disgust. “My sanity.”
“Sally?” He gently slid a hand beneath her hair to massage her nape. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Like she knew?
For a panicked minute her mind refused to work. She had to get rid of him so she could release her fading binding spell and hopefully have enough juice left to activate her hidden amulet. That should disguise her presence long enough to escape the area.