She had enough problems without being accused of being some sort of fey-magnet.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I used to live here.” She waved her hand toward the nearby trees. “I played in these woods for years without being inundated with fairy gifts.”
His expression remained stern. “You left the night your powers manifested.”
She shuddered. She didn’t need a reminder of the night she’d been driven from her home.
“So what?”
“They had no opportunity to sense your true nature.”
Her lips parted only to snap shut.
Damn.
She couldn’t deny he had a point.
Like most mongrels her demon blood hadn’t started to show itself until she hit puberty. Which meant that it hadn’t been until her mother had sliced her palm with a knife to perform a simple spell that anyone realized she was anything but human.
“You think I might be a fairy?”
His brooding gaze shifted to take in the glorious highlights that shimmered like flames in her hair.
“I think there’s something about you that the fairies consider worth risking dangerous spells and the unmistakable scent of a vampire to leave these gifts.”
She took an abrupt step away from the priceless treasures, a sharp fear piercing her heart.
“No . . . it’s not me,” she rasped, holding up her hand so she could wave the box beneath Roke’s nose. “It has to be this.”
He studied her a long moment, easily sensing she was on the edge.
“If that’s true, then we need to meet with Cyn so he can decipher the glyphs. It’s the only way we’ll get the answers we need,” he said, his tone so reasonable that she began to nod her head in agreement.
Abruptly realizing she’d been cleverly manipulated, she sent him a frustrated glare.
“You’re like a dog with a bone.”
He stepped forward, wrapping her in a swirl of frigid power.
“Sally, if I wanted to force you to return to the vampires we both know that I could.”
She flattened her lips at the blunt words. They were all too true.
And as much as she hated to admit she needed help, she wasn’t an idiot.
Whether it was the box or herself that was attracting weird Miera demons and oddly generous fey, she had to make it stop.
How could she search for clues to her father when she was dodging near-death experiences?
“Fine.” She hid her surge of dread behind a stoic mask. “How far is it?”
“A few miles south of here.” He scowled, as if annoyed by her brittle tone.
Why? He’d gotten his way, hadn’t he?
“Does a few miles mean five or fifty?”
“Less than twenty.” He held her wary gaze. “We can travel faster if I carry you.”
She sucked in a startled breath. She might be pissed at the annoying vampire, but that didn’t keep him from being ridiculously gorgeous.
The mere mention of being cradled against the wide chest with his strong arm wrapped around her was enough to stir heated fantasies.
Her lips trailing over the smooth, bronzed skin. Her hands tangled in the silken strands of his hair . . .
“I think I can manage,” she muttered, abruptly turning to head out of the woods.
With long strides he was swiftly at her side, the cool scent of powerful male teasing at her senses.
They walked in silence until they reached the path leading south along the cliffs, Roke’s gaze scanning for any danger.
Then, without warning, he lifted his fingers to lightly touch the exposed skin of her nape.
“Are we going to discuss the elephant in the room?” he demanded, his tones dark . . . compelling.
She grimaced. Crap. Had he picked up her X-rated thoughts?
“No.”
His frustration hummed in the chilled air. “So you’re going to pretend that I didn’t strip you naked and kiss every inch of your silken skin?”
Oh . . . hell.
She struggled to breathe.
“Exactly.”
His fingers moved to stroke over the frantically pounding pulse at the base of her throat.
“That I didn’t taste your climax on my tongue?”
She knocked his hand away, glaring at him as every nerve in her body sizzled with excitement. The precise memory of cresting beneath the stroke of his tongue was almost enough to topple her over the edge again.
“Stop it,” she hissed, not sure if she meant Roke or her renegade thoughts.
“Not talking about our mutual attraction won’t make it go away.”
She didn’t bother to try to deny that it was mutual.
What was the point?
“Will talking about it make it go away?”
His gaze returned to the surrounding countryside, scanning the thickening shadows as the path led them to the very edge of the cliffs.
“Do you regret what happened?”
Regret?
Oh yeah. Sally had plenty of regrets. But not for the reason Roke suspected.
It was going to be hard enough to scrub Roke from her thoughts once the mating was broken. It was going to be ten times more difficult now that her body was addicted to his touch.
“It was a mistake.”
His profile tensed, as if she’d managed to wound him.
Which was ridiculous.
“A mistake?”
“One that won’t happen again.”
His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Just keep telling yourself that.”
Brandel wasn’t prepared for the sudden mist that floated in the middle of his private rooms.
If you could call the damp, dismal caves rooms.
They felt far more like crypts just waiting for a corpse.
They were, however, the one place he could go to be completely alone.
Or at least that was the plan.
Still weakened from having a house collapsing on top of his corporal form, followed by an unwelcome encounter with Siljar, the last thing he wanted was another unpleasant confrontation.
Which was precisely why he’d ignored the summons from Raith.
He hadn’t expected his partner-in-crime to take the risk of making an actual appearance.
“So, you failed?” The voice spoke directly in his mind.
Brandel remained perched on the edge of his cot, too weary to pretend that he wasn’t exhausted.
His journey to Canada had been one unpleasant surprise after another.
He’d expected to find some forgotten temple that had been unearthed by annoyingly curious humans. Hieroglyphs that had been buried for centuries were known to release low-level bursts of magic when first exposed. They were usually harmless and passed as the contained magic spread through the atmosphere.
The last thing he’d expected was to be confronted by a vampire clan chief and one of the most powerful witches he’d ever encountered. And he most certainly hadn’t expected to discover a box that pulsed with enough ancient magic to make his mouth water.
So rare.
So precious.
He’d been blinded by his hunger to get his hand on the object.
Which was why he’d blundered so badly.
“It was a temporary setback.”
The mist stirred, anger vibrating through the air. “Did you at least determine the source of the magic?”
Brandel gave a reluctant nod. “A box.”
“Odd. What’s in it?”
“Impossible to say. It was guarded by very powerful glyphs.”
Raith wasn’t pleased. Brandel felt his companion’s anger pulsate through the cave, threatening to reveal his presence to the highly sensitive Oracles spread throughout the sprawling caverns.
“You have to get that box. Its magic is beginning to spread.”
“I understand the danger,” he hissed. “Better than you.”
“Then why are you just sitting here?”
Brandel scowled. How easy it was for Raith to toss out commands while he remained safely concealed.