He hated the sensation.
He hated it even more when he could sense a presence leaning over his helpless body.
With a threatening growl, he forced open his heavy lids, relieved to discover he’d taken the precaution of spending the day on a narrow cot in the cellar. The house might be sun-proof, but an enemy could always find a way to break through his shutters and expose him to the deadly rays.
Especially when he was so deeply asleep he couldn’t detect an approaching trespasser.
Surging upward, he discovered Dara standing near the narrow door that was the only entrance to the cellar. She smiled as she slid an affectionate glance over his rumpled hair and naked body.
“Habibi, are you rested?” she asked in her soft voice.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, sensing that night had fallen while he’d been unconscious. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Since you returned last eve.” Her smile widened. “You were always a lazy bug after you overindulged.”
He grimaced. He’d done more than overindulge. He’d wallowed in a bloodlust that had been shocking even by his standards. And still he’d remained plagued by a gnawing hunger that refused to be appeased.
It was only the threat of dawn that had forced him to gather the few remaining mortals and return to his temporary lair.
“The humans?” he rasped, assuming something must be wrong for Dara to seek him out.
She shrugged. “They’re safely locked in the attic.”
“Then what’s troubling you?”
Her beautiful eyes shimmered with a strange glow, as if they were being lit from within. “Something that should have remained hidden is now found,” she whispered, the glow from her eyes filling the cellar with an eerie light.
He took an unconscious step backward. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It has to be one of the witches.” Her brows pulled together, her tone absent.
“I thought we killed the last of them.”
She pretended she didn’t hear him. Or maybe she wasn’t pretending. Gaius smiled wryly. It seemed the only time Dara truly acknowledged his presence was when she needed something.
“Or perhaps it’s one of the Oracles.” She gave a slow nod. “Yes, that is possible.”
Gaius went rigid, an icy ball of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. “They’re here?”
“Not yet. But I’ve felt them searching for me.” Dara’s eyes returned to liquid pools of darkness. “They know I’m here.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are they searching for you?”
“I’ve told you.” She regarded him with a beseeching plea that arrowed straight to his heart. “They don’t like vampires returning from the grave. They will seek to banish me from this world.”
With a reluctance that shamed him, Gaius moved forward to lightly brush a hand over her cheek. As always he was struck by the unpleasant sensation that his hand was passing through air.
“No. I won’t let that happen,” he swore. “Not again.”
She moved back, dislodging his hand, but her smile was as warm as the long forgotten sun. “I knew I could depend on you, habibi.”
Yes. He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to clear the weary fog from his mind. His mate depended on him. It was his duty to do whatever was necessary to protect her.
“We must hide,” he murmured, shifting through the various possibilities. They had to lay low until the Commission lost interest. “We can return to our lair in Italy.”
“Yes, eventually,” she agreed. “But not yet.”
Gaius frowned. “Dara, I don’t have the strength to fight the Commission.”
“You don’t have to fight the entire Commission,” she assured him. “Only their two emissaries.”
He didn’t bother asking how she could feel the approach of the Oracles, or how she seemed to mysteriously know that they’d sent two emissaries.
He wasn’t sure he wanted the answers.
“Who did they send?” he instead demanded.
“The female clan chief.”
Gaius hissed. There was more than one female clan chief, of course. But, there was only one whom the Oracles would send to try and capture him.
“Nefri.” He clenched his hands, pretending the raw stab of guilt was anger. He wasn’t going to admit that he’d abused Nefri’s generous trust. What choice did he have? The Dark Lord had lured him with promises of Dara. Any vampire would betray their people for their beloved mate. “Damn her. How can she know I survived?”
“The Oracles, no doubt.” Dara’s features twisted with a bitter fury before her eyes grew distant, as if she were looking at something far away. “Now that is intriguing.”
“What is?”
“Her companion.” She slowly smiled. “This promises to be an interesting reunion.”
Reunion?
Gaius began to shake his head in bafflement only to freeze as he was struck by the haunting memory of being ripped through the rift by the Dark Lord. At the time his only thought was to scurry away from the raging battle, but he was certain that he’d caught a glimpse of an unconscious Nefri being held in the arms of an all-too familiar vampire.
“Santiago,” he said, his voice harsh.
“Yes.” Dara’s expression was . . . what? It almost appeared smug. “Our son.”
“No.” Gaius paced across the cramped space, hating the sick regret that flowed like acid through him at the thought of Santiago. “No longer.”
“He will always be ours, Gaius.”
“You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Tell me.”
He hunched a defensive shoulder. He didn’t want to speak about his son. Of all the sacrifices he’d made, Santiago was the one that would always torment him.
Feeling the weight of Dara’s stare, he at last muttered a low curse. “I betrayed him when I sold my soul to the Dark Lord and then I abandoned him and he became a slave to the blood pits,” he forced out. “He’ll never forgive me.”
“He’s angry and confused,” she said softly.
He gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “He has every right to be.”
“Perhaps.” There was a misty brush against his naked shoulder. Dara’s touch? “But Nefri has used his emotions to manipulate him into becoming our enemy.”
“I doubt it took much manipulation.”
“You can’t believe that. You know Santiago,” she whispered directly into his ear. “No matter what you’ve done, if he’s coerced into harming his sire he will be tortured by guilt. It will eventually destroy him.”
Gaius tried to shut out her words.
The last time there was a whisper in his ear, the Dark Lord persuaded him to betray his son, his clan, and eventually the entire world.
He wouldn’t be fooled again.
But then he turned his head to catch sight of the delicate, honey-tinted face and his logic sizzled beneath the burst of intense yearning.
Once he’d been happy.
Centuries ago he’d been a powerful clan chief with a devoted mate and a fiercely loyal son he was training to follow in his footsteps.
He wanted that back.
He wanted it with a hunger that destroyed any lingering threads of sanity.
“What can we do?” he at last rasped.
Dara smiled, pleased with his capitulation. “We must convince him that he’s still our son and that all we want is to be a family again.”
“A family.”
“The three of us together,” she continued, weaving her web of temptation. “Just imagine, habibi.”
He frowned. “What if it’s too late? I cut all ties with Santiago when I abandoned him.”
“It’s never too late,” she assured him. “He’s following our trail even as we speak.”
He gave a slow nod. “Then, we can speak when he arrives. I can apologize and tell him how much I regret leaving him.”
“Yes, yes, but first you must make him help us,” Dara said impatiently, interrupting his fantasy of the long overdue reunion with Santiago.
“What do you mean?” he asked in confusion. “Help us with what?”
“I have something that needs to be retrieved and he’s the only one who can get his hands on”—there was a faint hesitation—“it.”
Gaius flinched. “We can’t ask him to help as soon as he arrives.”
“Why not? You said yourself that he’s family.”
“He’ll assume that we just want to use him.”
Dara studied him with an unblinking gaze. “I don’t have time to wait. Unless you want to put me back in my grave, then we must force him to help.”
Gaius shook his head. “I won’t hurt him.”
“Of course not,” she swiftly agreed. “But we’ll need leverage.”
He paused. Once upon a time he’d been the master of strategy, the one who made the plans and was the driving force that made sure they were accomplished. Dara had always deferred to his stronger will, supporting him with her gentle belief he was always right.