“Roke?”
“Are you hurt?”
“No,” she instantly denied. “Just drained. I’ll be fine.”
His hand wasn’t entirely steady as he smoothed a strand of golden red hair away from her face.
“What the hell happened?”
She wrinkled her nose, her lashes lowering to shield her eyes. Almost as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.
“I’m not entirely sure. The magic just—”
“Exploded?”
“Yeah, something like that.” She pulled herself out of his arms, silently taking in the devastation that surrounded them. “The demon?” she at last demanded.
Roke rigidly squashed the need to pull her back into his embrace. She was obviously rattled by her . . . volatile surge of magic.
He got it.
Although it’d been centuries since he’d been a foundling, he could still remember his shock the first time his powers had manifested and he’d collapsed a tunnel on his head.
It’d taken him hours to crawl out of the rubble and a few decades to become comfortable with his destructive talent.
“There,” he said, pointing toward the pile of grease, determined to make her proud of what she was becoming.
She shuddered, rising to her feet to take a step away from the charred remains of Brandel.
“That’s all that’s left of him?”
“That’s it.” He kept his tone light as he straightened to stand at her side. “You were quite impressive.”
“She was brilliant,” Levet pronounced, waddling forward to offer the box to Sally. “Truly magnifique.”
Sally clutched the box in a white-knuckled grip, still staring at the scorched ground that surrounded them.
“We need to return to Chicago,” Roke abruptly announced.
Ridiculously, Sally frowned at his announcement. “Why?”
“You’re tired.”
She shook her head. “No.”
Growling with impatience, he moved to stand directly in front of her, his hand cupping her cheek.
“You can’t lie to me, Sally,” he reminded her. “I can sense your weariness.”
“I want to be done with this.”
His brows drew together, his shoulders squaring as he prepared for yet another battle of wills.
“The demon is dead. What does it matter if you continue your search tonight or next week?”
“We don’t know if he was the only demon after the box,” she said.
“All the more reason to return to Chicago until you can recover your strength.”
She reached up to grasp his wrist, pressing his fingers tighter against her face as she studied him with a pleading expression.
“Roke, we can’t move forward until I’ve dealt with my past,” she said softly.
“Move forward. Or move on without me?” he demanded, revealing his greatest fear.
She closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “This has to be done.”
For a crazed minute he considered the satisfaction of tossing her over his shoulder and hauling her back to Styx’s lair.
Or better yet, his own lair, where he could spend the next several centuries convincing her that the past didn’t matter.
Then, with a painful effort, he lowered his hand and stepped back.
Sally had made her decision to save her father. Nothing, not even his dubious charms, was going to change her mind.
“Gargoyle,” he snapped, grabbing his leather jacket off the ground and pulling it over his naked torso.
“Oui?”
“Return to Chicago and inform Styx what has happened.”
The tiny demon wrinkled his snout, his hands on his hips. “What if you have need of my skills?”
Roke raked an impatient hand through his hair. “Do you want to fight whatever had enough power to trap a Chatri?”
“Ah.” The gray eyes widened at the mere thought. “I should perhaps return so the vampires do not worry where you have gone.”
“Good choice,” Roke said dryly.
Levet moved to take Sally’s hand, pressing her fingers to his lips.
“Au revoir, ma belle. Return to us swiftly.”
Sally smiled with a forced confidence. “I intend to do my best.”
Roke’s growl trickled through the air. Sally didn’t need to do her best. It was his job to make sure she was kept safe.
“Are you ready?” he demanded.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Roke glanced toward the gargoyle. “Tell Styx to keep his phone on.”
“Oui.”
In silence, Roke led Sally to the Land Rover, waiting for her to climb over the driver’s seat since the passenger door was trashed. Then, settling in his seat, he started the engine and turned the vehicle onto the highway.
As the silence continued, Roke covertly studied Sally’s tense profile.
Was she worrying about the danger of trying to rescue her father? Or was she still brooding on the tidal wave of magic she’d so recently unleashed?
Whatever her thoughts were, they were sending frissons of unease through their mating bond.
“Why do you keep looking at me?” she at last spoke, her expression troubled.
“I like looking at you.” He smiled wryly. “I like touching you even better.”
“It’s not that,” she said, refusing to believe his teasing words. “Are you—”
“Sally?” he prompted as she struggled to share her dark thoughts.
“Are you scared of me now?”
He frowned at her abrupt question. “What are you talking about?”
She bit her bottom lip. “My powers are becoming dangerous.”
“You’ve always been dangerous, my love,” he drawled, recalling the moment he’d caught sight of her.
He hadn’t stood a chance.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t a nuclear bomb waiting to explode,” she muttered.
Ah. So it was her combustible magic that was troubling her.
“Your powers will be unstable until they plateau,” he said, his tone matter of fact. “Once that happens you’ll gain command of them.”
“What if I hurt you before I gain command?”
He was caught off guard by her question.
She was worried about him?
That was . . . unexpected.
Did that mean she was beginning to care for him? Genuinely care for him and not just because of their bond?
He latched on to the faint hope with a desperation that was downright pathetic.
“You won’t,” he assured her.
The dark eyes smoldered with frustration. “You don’t know that.”
“I trust you.”
Her fingers tightened on the box, her tension a palpable force in the air.
“Roke, maybe it would be better if I did this alone.”
He slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle skidding onto the shoulder.
Sally gasped in surprise, her eyes widening as he reached across the seat to grasp her arms. He dragged her forward until they were nose to nose.
“Don’t ever say that again.”
Sally had heard the phrase “tugging the tail of a tiger,” but she’d never actually given it much thought.
Now she knew exactly what it meant.
Roke’s power blasted through the confined space, making the vehicle tremble and the windows frost over.
He was clearly pissed by her suggestion, which, as far as she was concerned, was totally unfair.
Hadn’t he seen what she’d done to that demon?
For God’s sake, the Nebule had been reduced to a weird glob of tar.
Okay, she wasn’t sorry that she’d killed the demon. He would certainly have squashed her without a second thought.
But it wasn’t as if she’d targeted Brandel and released her power to destroy him. She hadn’t even known she could destroy him.
The magic had simply crashed through her barriers, filling her with a heat that was so intense she couldn’t contain it.