“You don’t know that.”
He wasn’t happy. “Christ, what do I have to do to prove it to you?”
“Allow my father to break the spell.”
“No.”
She frowned, baffled by his refusal to even consider her request.
“If you’re so confident I’m your mate, then why are you being so stubborn about the spell?”
His thumb rubbed against her inner wrist, the air prickling a sharp chill.
“I have no doubt you’re my mate.”
“But?”
There was a short hesitation, then with obvious reluctance, he admitted what was bothering him.
“But, I can’t be certain I am your mate.”
Sally stared at him in confusion. “Isn’t it the same thing?”
“Not necessarily.” He lowered her hand, turning her arm over so he could push up the sleeve of her gown and reveal the crimson marking. “When a vampire’s mate is of a different species there’s no guarantee that they will be similarly committed.” His fingers brushed over the sensitive tattoo, sending a jolt of lust straight through her. “Do Chatri even have true mates?”
She stepped closer, her gaze lowering to the sensual temptation of his lips.
“It doesn’t matter.”
She could feel his rising arousal as her gaze remained on his lips, his fingers continuing to caress her arm.
“It doesn’t?” he asked, his tone husky with need.
“No.” She smiled as she caught a glimpse of fang. Ah, her gorgeous, sexy, utterly exasperating vampire. “Because I love you.”
He blinked, looking as if he’d just been hit upside the head with a shovel.
“You . . . you love me?”
Sally chuckled. Dear goddess. Did he think that she melted for every man who touched her? Or risked her life to take him to his own people when he was injured? Or was willing to suffer the agony of losing him to make sure he never regretted being her mate?
“Irrevocably, madly, and for all eternity,” she swore, going on her toes to press her lips to the corner of his mouth.
He gave a low groan. “Sally.”
She pulled back to study his expression, which remained wary. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
“You’re certain?”
She hid a smile at his vulnerable plea for assurance. This wasn’t the aloof, I-am-an-island vampire she’d first met. Her heart swelled with the love she could barely contain.
“Roke, I don’t need a spell to be committed to you,” she murmured, planting tiny kisses over his cheek. “You’ve had my heart since you brought a tray of buffalo wings to my prison cell.”
“And apple pie,” he reminded her in thick tones, his arms wrapping around her waist to haul her tight against his body. “Don’t forget the apple pie.”
She chuckled, her lips finding a sensitive spot just below his ear.
“I’ll never forget anything, you aggravating vampire.”
There was a swish of satin before her father returned to the room, his mood stormy as he caught sight of them embracing.
“That is enough privacy,” he snarled. “It is time to end this mating.”
Pulling back, Sally held Roke’s gaze. “Trust me.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Roke didn’t like this.
He didn’t want to break the mating. And he most certainly didn’t want Sally’s pain-in-the-ass father to be the one to remove the spell.
The bastard might use his magic to convince Sally that she no longer loved him.
Loved him.
He grimaced as Sally’s soft words whispered through her mind.
She told him that she loved him. And then she’d asked him to trust her.
What else could he do?
“Fine,” he muttered, glaring at the king as he approached. He silently swore he would kill the man if he did anything to alter Sally’s feelings. “Remove the spell.”
Sally suddenly pulled out of his arms, glancing toward the distant door where a handful of Chatri were trying to peek through a narrow opening.
“Wait,” she muttered.
“Second thoughts?” Roke asked.
“No, but I’m tired of being gawked at.” She shuddered. “I want to do this in private.”
“We can go to your rooms,” Sariel pronounced, turning to head with dignified pace toward a small door behind the dais. “They have finished being prepared.”
Roke placed an arm around Sally’s shoulders as they followed in his regal wake.
“You have rooms?” he demanded, not liking the thought of her having a permanent place that was anywhere but at his side.
“This is my daughter’s home, of course she has rooms,” Sariel retorted.
“Her place is with me at my lair,” he growled.
The king glanced over his shoulder with an accusing expression.
“Among people who tried to kill her?”
Roke felt the familiar stab of guilt. “That was . . . a mistake. They will honor her as my mate.”
Sariel sniffed in disdain. “Here she is a princess.”
Roke clenched his teeth. There was no answer to that.
She was a princess here. And while he knew his people would grow to adore Sally, they hadn’t made it easy for him to convince her that his lair was going to make some fantasy dream-home.
It was Sally who at last broke the silence as they walked down yet another marble hallway with dark red roses circling the fluted columns.
“There’s no reason I can’t assist Roke with his duties as chief and be a diplomat for the Chatri.”
Both men were swift to offer their protests. “But—”
“That wasn’t open for debate.” She effectively slammed the door on their objections.
Roke smiled. This was his feisty little witch.
“Bossy,” he teased.
“That’s right.” Her dark eyes held a wicked amusement. “I am woman, hear me roar.”
They paused before a set of double doors and Roke glanced down at her pale, vulnerable face, needing to know if she truly meant that she could face returning to his people.
“You’re willing to travel to Nevada?” he asked softly.
She smiled, holding up a hand that had destroyed a Nebule demon with pure light.
“I think I can hold my own now.”
He nodded, in full agreement. He didn’t doubt she could make even the most powerful vampire regret screwing with her. But he didn’t want her to think for a second she had to worry about protecting herself in her own home.
“True, but there will be no need.” He paused, making sure she knew he spoke the absolute truth. “That, I promise.”
Sariel threw open the doors and gestured them inside. “Let us be done with this,” he snapped.
They entered a room that was a schoolgirl fantasy.
The walls were made of mirrors that reflected the overhead chandelier, giving the image of tiny diamonds dancing in the air. The floor was a polished wood and in the center of the room was a massive bed with a pink canopy.
Roke grimaced. He felt like he’d been shoved into an oversize dollhouse.
Unaware that his choice of décor proved just how little he knew about his daughter, Sariel held a hand over Roke’s head.
“Don’t move.”
Roke bared his fangs, immediately feeling a strange heat surge through his blood.
It wasn’t the intense blast of power that had knocked him unconscious when Sally had first enchanted him, but there was no mistaking something was happening.
At last the man dropped his hand and stepped back.
“Is the spell gone?” Sally demanded.
“Yes,” Sariel answered.
Shrugging out of his leather jacket, Roke allowed it to drop to the floor as he turned over his arm.