When Darkness Ends (6 page)

“I can sense them.”

She blinked in shock. “Even through the layers of magic?”

He shrugged. “It is my talent.”

Her first thought was that he was lying. No one had the ability to detect an imp that was several hundred yards away and on the opposite side of the thick shields that protected the estate.

Then she realized that he had no reason to make up a story.

Not when he could so easily be proved wrong.

“I'll let Styx know.” Tapping a brief text to the vampire who was no doubt just rising, she lifted her head to meet the cognac gaze that was studying her with an unnerving intensity. “Is there anything else?”

“Are all imp females so—” Words seemed to fail him.

“What?” She tilted her chin, her expression warning that she wasn't opposed to planting another punch to his nose. “Beautiful? Clever? Sexy?”

“Outspoken.”

Tonya shrugged. “We're all different, but most have no difficulty in sharing their opinion. Does that bother you?”

“True ladies—”

“Careful,” she drawled, hiding her stupid reaction to his barely concealed disdain behind a façade of mocking indifference.

She was intelligent, capable, and most men found her sexy as hell. What did it matter if this prissy prince found her less than a woman?

“It is no wonder Sariel wished to separate us from this world.”

Stepping forward, Tonya allowed her fingers to lightly stroke over his chest. “Are you afraid of a real woman?”

He stiffened, but he made no effort to slap away her hand. Instead his nose flared. Anger? Or was he breathing in her scent?

“The Chatri women are trained to be elegant, well-mannered companions who honor their mates,” he muttered.

Tonya shivered as her fingers continued to trace the chiseled muscles beneath the silk shirt. She'd intended to torment Magnus the Magnificent, but suddenly her body was no longer connected to her brain.

Instead her thoughts were being fogged by the sensuous pleasure of at last touching him.

“They sound like schmucks to me.”

His hands lifted to grasp her wrists, but he didn't pull her hands away. Instead his thumb absently stroked over her pulse that throbbed beneath the skin of her inner wrist.

“That word is unfamiliar.”

Her gaze moved to linger on his lips. They weren't as lushly curved as most fey, but Tonya discovered a sharp-edged hunger to feel those hard, sculpted lines pressed against hers.

“Idiots,” she said, speaking more to herself than explaining the meaning of the word.

His fingers tightened on her wrists, covertly tugging her closer to the enticing heat of his body.

“Because they appreciate a strong mate?”

She should pull away. Or better yet, push him away.

Anything to escape the surge of lust that was making her melt with a potent need.

Instead she glared into his beautiful face and leaned even closer.

“Because they've obviously allowed themselves to be bullied to the point that they're incapable of thinking for themselves.”

His brows snapped together at her accusation. “I would never bully a female.”

“No?” She lowered her voice to mimic his earlier words. “Why are you not on your knees, woman? I am your master. Yadda yadda.”

He made a sound deep in his throat. “You are—”

“What?” she prodded, her heart thundering with sexual excitement.

“Extremely frustrating.”

“Good.”

He released a sharp breath, his gaze skimming over her face with a blatant confusion. “You are nothing like my women, so why do I want to kiss you?”

Her heart missed a necessary beat. “Maybe you like to go slumming.”

The prince released her wrists so he could frame her face in his slender hands. “What is that?”

“Some men get a kick out of sleeping with women who they consider trash.”

“Don't say that,” he snapped.

“But you—”

“Hush,” he growled.

“Did you tell me to—”

With shocking speed, he captured her lips in a kiss that demanded utter capitulation. For a second she stiffened, her survival instincts warning her that she was making a huge mistake. She was a common imp who worked at a demon club. He was a royal Chatri who would soon be returning to his home with his precious pure-blooded fiancée.

Then his tongue dipped into her mouth and she no longer gave a shit about the who or the why as a liquid heat seared through her.

Oh hell, yeah.

Tonya wasn't a virgin. She was a sensual woman who'd taken lovers over the years. All of them had been skilled enough to bring her pleasure. But none of them had created . . .

Fireworks.

She grabbed his upper arms, groaning as his fingers tangled in her hair and he deepened the kiss. He tasted of warm whiskey and raw male.

And magic.

A dazzling, wild magic that was uniquely fey.

Lost in the sensations that buffeted through her, Tonya missed the sound of footsteps. In fact, it wasn't until an unmistakable chill brushed over her skin that she realized they were no longer alone.

“Am I interrupting?” a deep male voice demanded.

With an unexpected quickness, Magnus was straightening and shoving her behind his lean body.

Tonya blinked in shock. Was he . . . trying to protect her?

“Not at all,” the prince denied in aloof tones.

Styx moved forward, his expression stern although Tonya suspected there had been a brief twitch of his lips while he watched the male place himself squarely in front of her.

“Tell me about the intruder.”

“I can take you to him.”

Tonya shifted to the side to watch Styx deliberately pull out the large sword he had strapped to his back.

As if the King of Vampires needed a weapon to make him scary.

“This had better not be a trick, fairy,” he growled.

Surprisingly Magnus didn't even flinch as he met Styx's narrowed glare. “I am Chatri royalty, not a common fairy.”

“Whatever.” Styx pointed the sword at the prince's throat. “Don't screw with me.”

With a sharp shake of his head, Magnus was headed toward the door. “This is a madhouse.”

Styx glanced toward Tonya, his expression pensive.

“Be careful, imp,” he at last murmured. “There's more to this prince than he wants us to believe.”

Tonya grimaced as she watched the men leave.

Yeah. She didn't need to be told that Magnus was hiding all sorts of unexpected surprises.

 

 

Styx followed the Chatri out of the house and into the vast grounds that were covered in a thick frost. Thankfully he was impervious to the brutally cold wind that whipped off Lake Michigan, but the fairy in front of him gave a sharp shiver, his steps slowing as he reacted to the frigid temperature.

Styx touched his sword to the center of the prince's back. “Stay in front of me.”

Magnus picked up his speed even as he glared over his shoulder. “If I wanted to hurt you, that sword wouldn't halt me.”

“You'd be surprised what this sword can do.”

“Vampires.” Giving a shake of his head, the prince returned his gaze back to the shadowed garden, a golden glow abruptly surrounding his slender body.

Styx hissed, feeling the heat that the fairy was able to produce to keep himself warm. He'd never fought a Chatri, but he knew they could create a burst of energy that could destroy any number of demons.

Perhaps even a vampire.

Something to keep in mind.

They'd exited through a gate at the edge of his estate when Magnus came to an abrupt halt, holding up his hand.

“Hold.”

“What now?” Styx growled.

He'd barely crawled out of bed when he'd received the text from Tonya. He was supposed to be spending the early hours of his evening on the phone with Darcy, not following a damned fairy on a wild-goose chase.

Magnus pointed toward the north. “The creature is hidden behind the large oak tree on the far side of the lake.”

With a frown Styx moved to stand at the man's side, at last catching the faint scent of strawberries.

Imp.

Styx felt a newfound respect for the prince. There was no way in hell his own senses were acute enough to have picked up the fey from such a distance.

“Are you a tracker?”

Magnus gave a stiff nod. “I am.”

“Impressive.”

“Yes.”

Styx rolled his eyes. “Wait here.”

Moving forward, Styx gave a lift of one hand. The gesture would signal his Ravens to circle the intruder, but to wait far enough away not to spook the creature until Styx had time to speak with him.

Then, moving with a silent speed that made him little more than a blur, he'd rounded the lake and approached the imp from behind.

Once close enough, he pressed the tip of his sword against the back of the creature's head.

“Don't twitch a muscle.”

There was a squeak of terror, but the imp wisely froze as Styx slowly circled to study the overly pretty demon with pale green eyes and gold hair.

“Styx?” The imp drew in an unsteady breath, his fear drenching the air with the scent of strawberries. “It's me. Keeley.”

Styx bared his fangs as a tidal wave of fury cascaded through him.

Keeley had been one of the bastards responsible for destroying the previous Anasso.

Leaning down, he grabbed the imp by his hair, lifting him off the ground and glancing toward his nearest Raven.

“Take him to the dungeon.”

Fallon hadn't expected to sleep.

But after Cyn had escorted her to the kitchens and promptly disappeared, she'd gathered a dozen bowls and headed back upstairs. Then, choosing a room close to her private chambers, she'd filled each with water and infused them with her magic.

After that she had nothing to do but wait for the connection to the Commission to be completed.

It always took longer to scry for a person than a specific place. And the greater the magic of the person, the harder it was to get a lock on them. So tuning the bowls to the caves Siljar had seared into her mind, she set the magic to trip only for a demon of great power. Eventually she knew she would be able to track the movements of the Oracles, but it wouldn't be for several hours.

Unwilling to risk running into the vampire who seemed to have an uncanny ability to rattle her nerves, Fallon crossed the hall to her rooms and stretched out on the bed.

She'd only intended to rest for a few minutes, but obviously drained from expending so much magic she'd quickly tumbled into a deep sleep. It was past dusk when she woke and managed to drag herself to the shower.

Now, still dressed in the ridiculous robe with her damp hair left free to tumble down her back, she opened the door to her rooms, intending to check on her scrying bowls.

The last thing she expected to discover was a tiny gargoyle waddling down the hallway.

“Oh.” She came to a halt, her brows lifting in surprise. Cyn had shared his opinion of Levet during the trip to the kitchens. And his determination to rid his lair of the “pest invasion.” “I thought Cyn was going to make you leave.”

The gargoyle sniffed, his fairy wings spread to reveal the brilliant crimson and blue patterns that were rimmed with gold.

“I do not answer to the vampires,” he informed her, his ugly little features tight with outrage. “I have a higher calling.”

“Of course.” Fallon hid her flare of amusement. There was something excessively charming about the small demon being utterly unafraid of a vicious vampire ten times his size. “You said when you arrived that Siljar sent you. Are you a part of the Commission?”

“
Moi? Non
.” He gave a dramatic shudder. “I have discovered that being entangled in Oracle business always includes some daring adventure that ends with me doing all the work and some vampire or werewolf ending up with the beautiful maiden.”

She blinked. “I . . . see.”

“Still, I could hardly ignore Siljar's summons, or refuse her request that I assist Cyn and you in your efforts.”

Fallon grimaced, easily able to imagine how happy Cyn was going to be when he crawled out of his coffin, or whatever it was a vampire slept in, and discovered the gargoyle still in his lair.

“So now Cyn has two unwelcome guests,” she murmured.

Levet waggled his brows. “And one that is very welcome.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A female vampire just arrived,” he explained. “They seemed to be very close friends.”

Fallon narrowed her gaze. Cyn was entertaining
another
female vampire?

Was he suicidal? That could be the only excuse for deliberately trying to piss off Siljar.

“Indeed,” she said between clenched teeth.

Levet tilted his head to the side. “Is something wrong?”

“Cyn clearly has difficulty following orders.”

“Cyn follow orders?” Levet gave a light laugh. “From what I have heard, the clan chief of Ireland does precisely as he pleases whenever he pleases.”

“You know him?”

Levet shrugged. “He spent a few nights at Styx's lair, but his reputation is widely known.”

Fallon hesitated. She'd never enjoyed joining in the gossip that swirled around the royal court. Who cared who was flirting with whom, or which House was vying for more power?

Now she found herself incapable of resisting the urge to probe for information on her aggravating host.

“What reputation?” she at last demanded.

“He is a fierce warrior, naturally,” Levet said, his tail aimlessly twirling around his clawed feet. “Berserkers are always dangerous savages.”

Fallon frowned. She didn't need anyone to tell her that Cyn was a lethal enemy.

“Is that all?”

“
Non
.” Levet waved a hand to indicate the vast medieval palace that served as Cyn's lair. “He is also a notorious hedonist who takes great pleasure in indulging his senses. His parties are legendary throughout Europe.”

Fallon released her breath as a low hiss.

She'd already suspected the truth. No man could be so gorgeous and possess such irresistible charm without attracting hordes of women.

And he wasn't the sort of vampire to say “no” to a night of fun.

“I knew it,” she muttered.

“Knew what?”

“He's what you would call a player, isn't he?”

Levet's brow furrowed with confusion. “Does that trouble you?”

Did it?

Hell, yeah.

And she didn't know why. Okay, she was attracted to him.

Indecently, compulsively, unexplainably attracted.

But it wasn't like she was going to give in to her desires.

Was she?

She wrapped her arms around her waist, telling herself that the small shiver was caused by the nip in the air, not the image she had of being spread across his bed while Cyn gently peeled off her robe, his fangs pressed against the vulnerable flesh of her throat.

A hot flash seared away any hint of a chill, sending a rush of color to her cheeks.

“Not as long as he realizes he can't play me,” she forced herself to snap, acutely aware of the gargoyle's gaze that saw too much.

“Few women can resist the allure of a vampire,” Levet said, heaving a deep sigh. “It is a baffling mystery of nature, like rainbows and unicorns and the breakup of the Backstreet Boys.” He shook his head. “Unexplainable.”

“Chatri females prefer men who are cultured, intellectual companions, not heathens,” she lied with perfect composure.

“Is that right, princess?” a dark male voice drawled from behind her.

Oh . . . crap.

Slowly turning, Fallon watched as Cyn stalked toward her, holding two large bags.

He looked delectable in a pair of casual jeans that hung low on his hips and a cream cable-knit sweater that did nothing to disguise the massive width of his shoulders. The casual style should have made him seem less intimidating. Instead it only emphasized his lethal power and the impossible beauty of his fiercely male features.

But it wasn't just his undeniably gorgeous face and large body that made her heart slam against her ribs.

Halting just a few feet from her, the clan chief seemed to suck the air from the hallway, commanding attention by the sheer force of his presence.

A purebred male in the finest sense of the word.

She sternly squashed the urge to flutter like a damned dew fairy. She was a royal princess.

She didn't flutter.

At least not visibly.

“I thought you were entertaining a guest,” she said, proud of her cool, aloof tone.

His gaze focused on the pulse that pounded at the base of her throat. “You seem fixated with who I might or might not be entertaining.”

She tilted her chin. “My only interest is in completing my task for Siljar so I can leave here.”

“And go where?” He stepped forward, his aggression suddenly prickling in the air. “Back to your fairy prince?”

She frowned. He almost sounded . . . jealous.

Which was totally ridiculous.

Her lips parted, but she found herself unable to speak beneath the intensity of his jade gaze.

Logic told her that she would eventually have to return to her homeland and fulfill the marriage contract. But she couldn't force the words past her lips.

Did she think that by refusing to admit out loud that she had no choice but to give in to her father's demands would somehow alter her future?

Thankfully Levet was moving to poke a claw at one of the bags as his nose twitched.

“Is that food?” he demanded. “Something smells delicious.”

Cyn held the bag out of reach, glaring at the tiny demon. “Go away, gargoyle.”

The wings twitched. “But—”

“I said”—Cyn leaned down, flashing his long, lethal fangs—“go away.”

“Fine. I will hunt for my dinner.” Blowing a raspberry toward the scowling vampire, Levet paused to offer Fallon a low bow before he was waddling toward the stairs.

Fallon sent her companion a chiding frown. “You truly have no manners.”

Cyn shrugged. “I never claimed to be a gentleman.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not. You enjoy being a brute.”

He lifted his brows, his smile taunting. “Is that any way to speak to the man who holds your nectar?”

Fallon's stomach rumbled and her mouth watered as she abruptly realized she was desperately hungry.

Still she resisted the urge to snatch the bag from his hands.

Nectar didn't just appear out of thin air.

“How did you get it?”

“Lise is a vampire of many talents.”

An unexplainable anger darted through her as she sucked in a deep breath and caught the faint scent of a female vampire clinging to his clothing. The same female vampire who'd been in the lair earlier.

“I can imagine,” she said, her voice cold.

His lips twitched. “No, you truly can't.”

Tiny sparks of magic warmed her palm. Her powers involved an ability to manipulate the environment around her.

Including creating small fireballs, as well as the blinding blast that could destroy most demons.

Not that she wanted to kill Cyn.

But she could singe the tips of those braids that framed his smug face.

Instead she held out an imperious hand. “May I have the nectar?”

He held the bags out of reach, his jade gaze skimming over her slender body. “What do I get in return?”

“What do you mean?”

“Quid pro quo.” He stepped closer, his expression mocking. “I have food and nectar and clothes. What do you have for me?”

Her anger amped up another notch. Why did he take such pleasure in teasing and taunting and mocking her?

Was it because she was Chatri and her father had tried to separate his friend from his mate? Or was it because she was a naïve maiden with no knowledge of the games played between males and females?

No doubt his vampire friend was a master at pleasing a male.

Her hand dropped, her expression rigid. Full princess mode.

“It's your duty as my host to provide for my comfort.”

“This isn't a hotel and I'm not your host,” he drawled.

“What do you want?”

A slumberous heat darkened the jade eyes. “A kiss.”

Her pulse spiked at his low words, heat flowing through her body.

“I don't know why you're determined to punish me,” she muttered, trying to pretend that it was annoyance that stained her cheeks pink. “This situation isn't my fault.”

He stepped forward, his gaze lowering to the unsteady line of her lips. “You think kissing me is a punishment?”

A punishment?

No. The thought of kissing him was . . . terrifying.

Gloriously, heart-stoppingly terrifying.

She took a deliberate step backward. “Where's your lover?”

His gaze narrowed as he tracked her sharp retreat. “Did you want her to join us? I didn't think a threesome would be your thing, but if you—”

“You're disgusting,” she interrupted.

“A kiss, princess,” he pressed. “I dare you.”

Later she would blame her reaction on a mental meltdown.

She had, after all, been through enough over the past few hours to make any poor woman a little nuts.

Whatever the cause, she didn't hesitate as she stormed forward and without giving herself time to come to her senses, she grabbed the braids that framed his face and yanked his head downward.

She had a brief glimpse of Cyn's stunned expression before she was slamming her lips against his.

 

 

Cyn couldn't have been more astonished if the ground had opened up and swallowed him.

Aye, he'd deliberately provoked her. Who could blame him? He'd spent hours pacing the floor of his bedroom, alone with his thoughts.

It wasn't that he was forced to remain beneath the ground. He'd made sure the castle was sun-proofed. But he'd known that if he gave in to the urge to leave the privacy of his chambers, he'd be headed straight for this female.

A knowledge that wouldn't have been so bad if it was sheer lust that was urging him to seek her out. He was a male. She turned him on. Simple. But it wasn't just sexual desire that had thrummed through him as he walked in endless circles.

No, it was a niggling fear that her room was too cold, and that she didn't have the proper food, and she might be missing her homeland.

Only sheer force of will kept him from giving in to the embarrassing need to seek her out and fuss over her as if he were some sort of demented mother hen.

Then dusk had fallen and Lise had arrived with the provisions he'd requested along with an update on his clan. He'd barely given her time to finish her report before he was heading out of his rooms and up the stairs to find the woman who'd plagued him for the past twelve hours.

The very fact that the need to see her had become a compulsion he couldn't ignore had set his temper on edge.