Usually more than one.
“My clansmen are convinced my mind has been clouded by a spell,” he grimly admitted. “I’m not going to waste time trying to convince them of my sanity when Sally needs me.”
The scent of granite followed behind him.
“Why did you bring her here if you could not protect her?” Levet accused.
Roke frowned, his mind trying to sort through his clouded memories as he headed away from the collection of lairs that had been wrapped in spells of illusion to resemble an abandoned mining town.
He remembered fighting the demon. And growing weaker with every passing second, although he hadn’t known at the time that the dart had contained a poison deliberately concocted to kill a vampire.
And then, as the world had started to go dark, he thought Sally had tossed her last potion at the demented bastard, but he’d been too far gone to know if it had been effective.
After that . . .
It was all a blur.
“I didn’t bring her here.”
“Then how did you get here?”
“I don’t know.”
“But—”
“Gargoyle, shut it,” Roke growled, pausing to allow his senses to flow through the vast expanse of tunnels that connected the gold mines.
Locking on Sally, he picked up his pace, hoping to leave the aggravating gargoyle behind.
Of course, his luck couldn’t be that good.
Dropping down an abandoned shaft, Levet floated down beside him, churning his tiny legs to keep up as Roke resumed his swift pace.
“It seems odd you wouldn’t know how you traveled from Canada to this place.” Levet refused to leave him in peace.
“I was unconscious.”
“Not very sensible of you,” the pest helpfully pointed out. “Especially when you had a young damsel depending on you.”
Roke bared his fangs in annoyance. Goddammit. Did the gargoyle think he’d deliberately left Sally vulnerable?
“It wasn’t a choice.”
“Still.”
With a flutter of his wings, the gargoyle thankfully shut his mouth, perhaps sensing Roke was close to the edge of snapping.
One more implication he’d intentionally failed his mate and he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
Slowing his pace as he caught the recent scent of vampires, Roke searched the darkness for any hidden guards.
He wasn’t surprised there were none.
Zoe’s downfall was always her arrogance.
She never considered that a creature as tiny as the gargoyle could sneak past her defenses to release Roke.
Just as he’d once underestimated a pretty witch who’d managed to turn his life upside down.
Convinced that there was nothing lurking in the shadows, Roke slipped into the bottom cavern and rushed toward the cell.
“Sally,” he husked, nearly going to his knees at the sight of the fragile figure wrapped in a blanket huddled on the bed.
Lifting her head, Sally revealed her pale, tear-streaked face and large, wounded eyes.
“Roke?”
“Christ,” he hissed, his hands shaking as he struggled to focus his power.
With her hair hanging in tangles and her slender body shaking with obvious fear, she looked dazed, as if she were struggling to simply hold herself together. He’d never seen her so . . . fragile.
Not when she’d been imprisoned by Styx. Or forced to fight the strange vampire spirit. Or even when they’d been attacked by the mysterious Miera demon.
She faced every new challenge with a courage that had been unnerving.
To think that he’d brought her to the point of defeat.
It was unforgivable.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed.
“I’m here to get you out,” he assured her, using a concentrated burst of power to destroy the lock.
“Why?” she muttered, her hand lifting as he entered the cell and rushed toward her. “No. Stay back.”
Coming to a grudging halt, Roke glanced over his shoulder. “Gargoyle.”
Levet eyed him from the door of the cell. “Oui?”
“Keep guard.”
The gargoyle turned to head toward the opening of the tunnel, his tail twitching.
“I hold you entirely responsible for this mess, bloodsucker.”
“So do I,” Roke muttered, returning his attention to the woman who regarded him with eyes too large for her pale face. Cautiously he crept forward, indifferent to the knowledge she could easily turn him into something nasty. He almost wished she would. He deserved to be a toad. “I’m not going to hurt you, my love. I only want to help.”
The wounded eyes abruptly flared with anger. “And that’s why you left me locked up?”
He grimaced, feeling her raw sense of betrayal through their mating bond.
“I would never have allowed you to be locked up.”
“That’s not what your girlfriend told me.”
He frowned. “Girlfriend?”
“Blond-haired, blue-eyed bitch who enjoys causing pain.”
“Zoe.” He perched on the edge of the bed, moving slowly enough not to startle her. He’d already done enough damage. “I’ll kill her.”
“Don’t blame your minions,” she snapped, her chin tilting. “They were only carrying out your orders.”
He hid his relief at her display of temper. He doubted she would appreciate knowing how horrified he’d been to see her with her spirit crushed.
“You don’t truly believe that,” he murmured softly, allowing his profound need to keep her safe to flow through their bond.
She bit her bottom lip, looking unbearably young. “Then why did you abandon me?”
“Abandon you?” His hands reached to frame her face. “Christ, Sally, I would quite literally walk through the pits of hell to be with you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sally tried to resist the urge to lean against the hard width of Roke’s chest.
Dammit. She was pissed at him, wasn’t she?
Certainly she’d devoted several pleasurable minutes to imagining the joy of castrating him.
But, the second he’d appeared, the crippling pain of betrayal had abruptly eased, replaced by the comforting sense of him deep in her heart.
Not that she was about to forgive and forget, she fiercely assured herself.
Fool her once, shame on him. Fool her twice . . . blah, blah, blah.
“If that were true, I wouldn’t have been left here to rot,” she pointed out.
“I’ve spent the past hours unconscious in my lair. Not that it would have mattered.” His voice thickened with anger. “I was chained to my bed.”
Was he serious?
Who would chain a clan chief to his bed?
“By your own people?” she asked in disbelief.
“My clan believes my mind has been clouded by a spell,” he said, his eyes flaring with silver fire. “They’re determined to protect me.”
“By torturing me?”
“God.” Without warning his arms wrapped around her, hauling her into his lap as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never, ever wanted you hurt.”
She didn’t try to fight her way out of his arms.
She told herself it was because it would be a wasted effort. Even though she could sense he was weakened, she still had no chance of overpowering him.
But, that didn’t explain why she leaned into his embrace. Or why she absorbed the scent of sexy male and raw power as if it were necessary to her very survival.
It was the shower of dust from the ceiling that alerted her to the potential danger.
“Roke,” she murmured, tilting her head back to watch the crack in the stone above her head widen another inch beneath the force of his emotions.
“Shh.” His lips pressed to the sensitive skin of her throat, his fangs fully extended. “Let me hold you.”