“If you say so.”
Her lips thinned, but she ignored his lack of tact.
Thank the gods.
“Which means I am occasionally urged to tug on the threads of fate,” she continued.
A polite way of saying she was an intrusive busybody interfering in other people’s lives.
This time he was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself.
See? He could be trained no matter what Darcy might say.
“And you tugged on a particular thread?” he carefully demanded.
“I did.” She gave a dip of her head. “It brought me Levet.”
Styx shuddered. “That’s a thread you can keep.”
“Levet was a companion to Roke when they tracked down his mate in Canada.”
He bit back his impatient hiss. “That has some connection to Brandel?”
“Levet was here when Brandel returned from a mission he claims took him to Hong Kong.” She at last got to the point. “Levet, however, was quite certain he smelled of the same ocean spray he’d just left.”
Styx was briefly distracted. “Ocean spray has different scents?”
“So it would seem.”
Who knew? Pulling out his phone, Styx punched in Roke’s number, willing the younger vampire to answer.
“Damn. Straight to voice mail,” he at last growled. “I need to find them.”
Siljar lifted her hand, releasing enough of her outrageous power to keep him from charging out of the cavern.
“No, I have a more important duty for you,” she informed him.
“But . . .” With a snap of his fangs, he regained control of his severely strained temper. This was one of the few fights he couldn’t win. “What duty?”
“We need to discover more about Brandel and why he would be interested in the clan chief of Nevada.”
Her words made sense. It would be easier to protect his brother if he understood the nature of the threat.
Dammit.
“And what of Roke?” he snarled.
Siljar flashed her razor-sharp teeth. “I will send him assistance.”
Roke struggled to open his eyes, briefly wondering if he’d been on a bender.
His head was throbbing, his mouth was dry, and his bones ached as if he’d been beaten by a rabid troll. Always the signs of a fantastic party.
Then, he at last managed to focus his gaze enough to take in the familiar sight of his private lair.
As always he took comfort in the plain stucco walls and dirt floor covered by simple Navajo woven blankets. The ceiling was open beamed and the furniture hand-carved from sturdy oak.
It was like him.
No fuss, no frills.
As his senses slowly came back online, he turned his head, sensing he wasn’t alone.
“Zoe?” He wasn’t entirely surprised to discover the small, blond-haired vampire perched on the edge of his mattress. Zoe had been attempting to convince him that she belonged in his bed for the past decade.
Now, however, he shuddered at just how . . . wrong her presence felt next to him.
“So, the dead decides to awake,” she murmured, reaching to run her fingers through his hair. “You scared the hell out of me.”
He instinctively pulled from her light caress, desperately searching his foggy mind for the cause of his throbbing fear.
He was missing something.
Something that was more important to him than life itself.
Baffled by the strange sensation, he tried to raise his head only to flop back on the pillow with a groan.
“What happened?” he moaned.
Zoe returned her hand to her lap, her expression hardening with a frigid fury.
“You were poisoned.”
He jerked in shock. Vampires could be sickened by toxic substances, but their swift regenerative abilities kept poison from being an effective weapon.
“Impossible.”
“Not impossible.” Zoe lifted her hand, as if to touch him only to return it to her lap. “It very nearly killed you.”
“How can I be poisoned?”
“It was a unique combination of a human blood-thinning drug laced with particles of silver.” Zoe pointed toward the IV stand with several empty blood bags that was tucked in the corner. “We had to drain your blood and replace it with clean. You’re fortunate to be alive.”
Jesus. Someone truly wanted him dead.
Nothing surprising in that, of course.
But the rising anxiety that was making his body tremble was new and original. And wholly unwelcome.
He frowned. “How did I get here?”
“We think through an imp portal.”
“An imp?”
“That’s something we can discuss later,” Zoe attempted to soothe. “For now you need to rest.”
“No. I need . . .” What did he need? It was there, deep inside him. He could physically feel the raw, aching need. The savage desire to leap from the bed and find what was causing his ruthless pain. Hell, he could even smell . . . peaches? Oh, shit. His roar shook the room. “Sally.”
Zoe widened her eyes, leaning forward to pin him to the bed with her hands.
“Shh.”
His fury made splinters of wood rain from the ceiling. “Where’s my mate?”
“She’s fine,” Zoe muttered, struggling to keep him flat on his back. “Don’t move.”
“She’s not fine,” he snarled, infuriated by his weakened state. His mate needed him, and he was failing her. Again. “I can feel her pain.” He grasped Zoe’s wrists, trying to pull them off his chest. “Dammit.”
“Dyson,” the female vampire called, her muscles trembling as she went to her knees to gain leverage.
Any other day, Roke would have already tossed her in the corner and been on his way to Sally. He wasn’t clan chief because of his charming personality. But he was even more weakened than he’d first suspected and it was taking everything he possessed to continue the fight.
“Where’s Kale?” he demanded, referring to the vampire he’d left in charge of the clan.
The younger vampire didn’t have Roke’s sheer power, but he was a steady, cool-headed leader who could be trusted not to allow his emotions to overrule his logic.
Unlike Zoe who was temperamental, and dangerously obsessed with claiming a place at Roke’s side.
“He’s in Las Vegas negotiating a new treaty with the local curs.”
“Call him,” he commanded, his gaze shifting to the large vampire who hurriedly entered the room and crossed toward the bed. “Dyson release me.” Roke snarled in shock when the male instead wrapped a heavy chain over his legs and attached the other end to a bracket beneath the bed. The chain wasn’t enough to hold him, but it had been enchanted to prevent his escape, even if he was at his full strength. “What the hell?”
“You’re weak,” Zoe murmured, climbing off the bed to regard him with a wary expression. “You have to rest.”
Roke glared at the bitch and her partner in crime. “I’m your clan chief.”
“Yes, which is why we intend to protect you,” Zoe insisted.
“I don’t need your protection.” His hands clenched as he futilely struggled against the unseen spell holding him down. “I need my mate.”
Zoe’s pale blue eyes darkened with unmistakable envy. “She’s bewitched you. Once we break the mating you’ll realize we’ve only done what is necessary.”
Damn. Sally had been right to fear his people. He’d suspected that they would be angry with her for forcing a bond with him, but he’d never believed they’d actually harm her.
“I’ll destroy anyone who puts so much as a mark on her,” he warned, the merciless sincerity in his tone making Dyson pale in fear.
Zoe licked her lips, not entirely impervious to his fury. “You’re not thinking clearly, Roke.”
“Tell me what you’ve done to her,” he hissed.
“She’s being held in the mines.”
“Oh, shit.” His eyes squeezed shut. They couldn’t have found a better way to torture Sally if they tried. After being locked in Styx’s dungeon, she’d become terrified of being trapped in a cell. She had to be freaked out of her mind. “Get her out.” He sent a blast of power that made both vampires stumble. “That is a command.”