Darkness Avenged

“Not a damned thing,” he snarled.

Styx lifted a brow, but he was smart enough to keep his opinion to himself. “Good, then I want you to question her again,” he said. “See if she knows anything about the supposed infection that Gaius is spreading.”

Roke was shaking his head before Styx was done. “Get someone else. She won’t talk to me.”

Styx leaned forward, the air taking on a distinct chill of irritation. “Then make her talk.”

“Torture?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I don’t torture helpless females locked in my dungeons.” Styx shook his head, the tiny turquoise amulets threaded through his long braid tinkling at the movement. “I meant charm. You do remember how to seduce a young, beautiful woman, don’t you?”

A combustible heat scalded through his lower body, assuring Roke that he remembered in exquisite detail how to seduce a beautiful woman, even if it had been far too long since he’d felt like indulging in it.

Until now.

Dangerous.

“She’s not a woman, she’s a witch,” he muttered.

“Christ. Fine,” Styx snapped in exasperation. “I’ll send Spike to—”

“No,” Roke interrupted before he could halt the harsh words. There was no way Spike was getting anywhere close to Sally. The younger vampire would have her flat on her back and his fangs deep in her throat before she knew what was happening. And that was . . . unacceptable. Why? That was a question he didn’t intend to answer. “I’ll take care of the witch.”

Chapter 9

Harpy house in Louisiana

Santiago woke with every expectation of finding Nefri in his arms.

Why wouldn’t he?

They’d come together in an earth-shattering explosion of pleasure. More than once. The sort of pleasure that made lovers want to linger in bed and explore one another for hours. Days. Perhaps centuries.

Instead Nefri was not only out of bed, but she’d showered and changed into a pair of clean jeans and a pale blue sweater that she must have gotten from the Harpies. More telling, she was putting off vibes that warned she wasn’t in a hurry to leap back into bed.

With a grimace, Santiago headed into the shower, not surprised to discover a pair of jeans and sweatshirt waiting for him on the counter.

If Nefri didn’t need him to track down Gaius she would no doubt have escaped while he was sleeping. As it was, she was doing everything in her power to make sure he understood that last night (or rather early this morning) was a mistake.

One she didn’t intend to repeat.

Not that he was about to be tossed into the pile of Nefri’s bad decisions, he grimly decided, stepping beneath the hot water.

She’d been with him all the way.

Hell, she’d nearly shredded his back during their last delectable tango.

A shudder raced through his body at the vivid memory of Nefri spread beneath him, her eyes dark with a passion that threatened to drown them both.

Oh no.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Swiftly washing his hair and skimming the soap over his body, he exited the shower and dried off. Then, taking time to pull on the jeans and black sweatshirt, he braided his hair, and headed out of the bathroom.

The bedroom was empty. No surprise there. But the tidal wave of her power assured him she hadn’t gone far.

He stepped into the living room, his brows lifting at the sight of Nefri seated cross-legged in the middle of the floor, her eyes closed and her hands folded in her lap as her hair floated on the faint breeze stirred by her powers.

At his entrance, her lashes lifted to reveal eyes that were carefully devoid of emotion.

“Meditation?” he drawled, trying to keep his temper in check. Not easy when she was studying him like he was a virus that had to be endured for the greater good.

“It clears my mind,” she said, smoothly rising to her feet.

He snorted, not fooled for a second. A vampire didn’t use that amount of power to find their inner self.

“And you were hoping to contact the Oracles?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If only you were as clever as you think you are.”

He slowly paced to stand mere inches from her. “I’m not only as clever as I think I am, but I’m even better looking.”

She stepped back before she could hide her revealing retreat. Then, squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to meet his wicked grin. “Did you convince Styx to send out his Ravens?”

His gaze lowered to the lush red lips, a ready heat spreading through his body. Oh, the havoc those lips could wreak.

“Once I assured him the gargoyle was no longer missing.”

“Styx was concerned about Levet?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Not Styx. Darcy,” he corrected her. “Like me, the Anasso couldn’t care less if the aggravating pest stayed absent.”

“Ah.” The cool composure slammed back into place. “I’ve already had word that he’s waiting for us just north of here.” She waved her hand toward the glass of blood that was set on the low table. “You should eat so we can join him.”

He crossed to lift the glass to his lips, draining it in one long swallow.

It held the rich flavor of Harpy, but it wasn’t the jasmine-scented blood he longed for. Still, it replenished his strength. Anything else would obviously have to wait.

Replacing the empty glass on the table, he turned back to study his companion. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

She shrugged. “I need very little sustenance.”

Hmmm. Interesting. Santiago had heard rumors that there were those behind the Veil who abstained completely from blood. Just another way to make themselves superior to their more savage brethren, he wryly assumed.

“Because of your age or because of your time behind the Veil?”

She arched a brow. “It’s hardly polite to discuss a woman’s age.”

“Why are you so secretive?”

“I’m not.”

“Then answer the question. Do you feed?”

Something that was almost an emotion flared through her eyes before it was ruthlessly squashed. “Not when I’m with my clan.”

“So it’s true that the Veil steals all hunger?”

Her jaw clenched. He knew she hated being questioned almost as much as she hated revealing anything about the mysteries beyond the Veil. Thankfully she’d learned that he was just as stubborn as she was.

“It diminishes the more primitive needs,” she admitted in clipped tones.

“And passions?”

“For most.”

He grimaced. Endless nights without desire or hunger or pleasure?

“Why the hell would anyone choose to live there?”

“There are those of us who have interests beyond physical satisfaction,” she informed him with an edge of censure.

Ah. A challenge. He returned his attention to the temptation of her lips as he moved to stand close enough to be wrapped in her jasmine scent. “There’s a lot to be said for physical satisfaction,” he reminded her in a husky voice.

She stiffened, but held her ground. “And even more to be said for the powers that come from abstinence.”

“What powers?” he swiftly pounced.

She abruptly turned away, heading toward the door. “If you’re finished we should go.”

He moved to stand in her path. “What powers?”

A burst of frigid energy lashed against him, just a small taste of her displeasure.

Damn. Why was that so sexy?

“I’ve told you before that the talents of vampires are as varied behind the Veil as they are in this world.”

He pretended that he didn’t notice the tightness of her features that warned he was wearing on her last nerve. Unless he pushed the issue he would never truly discover the woman beneath the clan chief.

And he wanted that.

With a brutal need that was more than a little frightening.

“I know there’s shape-shifting and mist-walking.”

“Yes.”

“And the ability to pass as human?” he asked, referring to the rumors that there were vampires who could feign breathing, a heartbeat, and even warm their skin.

“For a rare few.”

“Day-walkers?”

“Even fewer.”

“Dios.” He didn’t bother to hide his surprise. He hadn’t truly believed it was possible. “Can you walk in the daylight?”

“Long ago I could endure the sun for very limited periods of time.”

“Why not now?”

“Because my visits have become more frequent to this world,” she said, her composure a brittle shell. “It steals my abilities.”

“Why have they been more frequent?”

“There was an . . . incident two centuries ago that I had to handle and more recently I devoted my attention to searching for the prophet.” Her dark gaze shifted toward the door, her profile rigid. “I had hoped that once the Dark Lord was defeated I would be allowed to return to my studies.”

Santiago scowled, disgruntled by her regret. It appeared painfully genuine. Was this a warning that her place was firmly behind the Veil? ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">