With a wry smile, Styx waited for Siljar to step to his side, her expression unreadable as they watched the last Oracle take his seat.
“Is this all of them?” Styx asked.
“All but one.”
Ah. Success.
“Who is missing?”
“Brandel.”
He turned toward the tiny demon, making certain his voice was pitched low enough to keep from carrying.
“You don’t sound particularly surprised.”
Her expression remained aloof, but Styx could sense her growing concern. He grimaced.
The thought of an Oracle going rogue was enough to give the entire demon world nightmares.
“I have been . . .” She searched for the proper word. “Troubled by him since our arrival to the caves.”
“Anything in particular?”
“I sense there is more to him than meets the eye.”
Well that was predictably ambiguous.
God forbid an Oracle just say what she was thinking.
“A secret he’s hiding?” he prompted.
She shook her head. “It’s more than a secret.”
“Then what?”
“I think his very identity is a lie.”
Styx blinked, then blinked again.
It was one thing for a human to alter his identity. A new hair color, a pair of colored contacts, and a change of name and—presto—a new person.
But a demon . . .
They would have to modify themselves on a cellular level, or have their essence scrubbed like Gauis, to fool other demons.
Even then he couldn’t imagine an Oracle being deceived for long.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered.
“Neither do I,” Siljar slowly admitted, her eyes shifting from the gathered Commission to meet his confused gaze. “But I do know one thing.”
“What?”
“Your brother Roke is in danger.”
The warning was so unexpected that it took Styx a beat to wrap his head around it.
“Roke?” He was instantly in full Anasso mode. No one screwed with one of his brothers. Not unless they wanted to deal with him. “What does he have to do with this?”
Siljar paused, as if considering her words. “As you are perhaps aware, I am in tune with the universe.”
He shrugged, not giving a shit what she was babbling about. He just wanted the info on Roke.
“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. “Dam
mit.”
“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.”
Zoe glanced toward the ceiling that threatened to collapse on them. “You must relax.”
“Release Sally and we’ll discuss this rationally,” he ordered.
“There will be no need for discussion,” Zoe informed him. “The witch has created the fake mating, with the proper persuasion she’ll end it.”
Oh, hell.
Sally.
He had to get to her now.
“No,” he snarled. “It has nothing to do with a spell. It was her demon blood.”
Zoe tilted her chin. “Either way, we’ll force her to free you.”
“She can’t.” His fury shattered the windows. “Goddammit. She can’t.”
Zoe refused to back down. “Dyson can be very persuasive.”
Roke bared his fangs. “No.”
The male vampire rushed forward as the entire building shook in reaction to Roke’s fury. Trapped by the enchanted chain, Roke could do nothing as the massive fist connected with his jaw with enough force to knock him out.
Chapter Fifteen
Sally crouched in the corner of the barren cell, her arms wrapped around her bent knees as she forced herself to breathe.
She didn’t know how long she’d been locked in the darkness that was so thick she couldn’t see beyond the tip of her nose. Or even how much time had passed since the large male vampire had left after using a whip to strip the flesh from her back.
It had to be several hours since her skin had grown back, although it remained tender to the touch, and she was so hungry her belly was beginning to cramp.
Where was Roke?
She knew he wasn’t dead. She could still feel their bond, although it was oddly muffled.
At first the knowledge he’d survived the journey from Canada to his lair had trumped her fear at being tossed into a cell at the bottom of an abandoned gold mine.
Then, as the hours had passed, and she’d been shackled to the wall and beaten like a piñata, her relief had altered to a confused fury.
Where the hell was her supposed mate?
And why was he allowing his people to treat her like an enemy?
Was it possible that he was too ill to insist she be freed?
Or even being held as a captive until the mating could be broken?
She tried to hold on to the belief that any second Roke was going to appear and release her from the prison. It was that or tumbling into madness.
She abruptly stiffened. Wait. Was that . . . roast beef she was smelling? Maybe she’d tumbled into madness after all.
The disjointed thoughts had barely passed through her mind when the candles set outside the cell flared to life and a tiny, golden-haired vampire appeared from a side tunnel.
Sally grimly rose to her feet, wrapping the blanket that she’d found on the narrow bed around her naked body.
Dyson had forced her to strip before beginning his whipping. It was a customary technique intended to amplify her humiliation.
It worked.
But as she watched the female vampire glide toward the cell, sliding a large tray of food underneath the door, she managed to gather the remnants of her tattered pride.
There was something so freaking annoying about the china blue eyes and too-pretty face.
It made Sally want to lob a spell that would splat all over that pale beauty.
Petty?
Yep. But who the hell cared?
“So soon?” she forced herself to drawl, ignoring the delicious scents wafting on the air. God. She wanted to fall on her hands and knees and devour the entire tray like an animal. “A trained torturer knows that you give your prey time to recover before resuming the pain. Otherwise it loses its effectiveness.”
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the female protested, pointing toward the tray. “I’ve brought you dinner.”
“Ah.” She managed a mocking smile. “It’s the good cop/bad cop routine.”
“I’m not a good enough actress to pull off the role,” the female protested, smiling to show a hint of fang. “If I had my preference, you’d be staked in the middle of the desert and left for the vultures to feed on. Unfortunately, Roke refuses to allow you to be put to death.”
Sally struggled not to react, her fingers digging into the rough wool of the blanket.
“He’s . . . awake?”
The vampire shrugged. “Our healers have managed to save his life, but he remains weak.”
Sally swallowed the lump in her throat, still caught between her fierce concern for Roke and the growing anger that he hadn’t rescued her yet.
“Then he must have told you that the mating was an accident,” she said.
“So he says.” The vampire couldn’t sound more bored. “He also insisted that you be fed and that a hot bath brought to you later.”
Sally blinked. Roke ordered that she be fed and bathed like a damned dog in a kennel?
“And that’s it?” she rasped.
“As far as you’re concerned.”
“I don’t believe you.” Sally pressed her back against the steel wall of her cell, the pain inflicted by Dyson’s whip nothing in comparison to the tidal wave of agony that threatened if she allowed herself to accept the female’s filthy lies. “He wouldn’t leave me trapped down here.”
“For now he’s occupied with his clan
.” The blue eyes narrowed. “He does have duties, you know.”
“I have no intention of interfering in his duties.”
“But you already have,” the woman abruptly hissed.
Sally shivered as the temperature abruptly dropped. Christ, being around vampires was like being shoved in and out of a freezer.
“Not intentionally.”
The female made a sound of disgust. “Maybe not, but because of you he’s abandoned his people for weeks.”
“I told him that he didn’t have to stay with me.”
“He’s a vampire of honor. He unfortunately felt he had no choice but to offer you his protection.” The woman’s tone indicated just what she thought of Roke’s choice. “Now he—”
“What?”
The woman nibbled her lip with her fang, trying to appear as if she were debating whether to finish her thought or not.
Devious leech.
“I’m not sure Roke wants you to know.”
“Tell me.”
“The clan is concerned that his mating to you has divided his loyalties.”
“Concerned?” Sally frowned at the unexpected words. “Why?”
“He can’t be an effective chief if he’s devoting his time to tending to your constant needs.” Her voice was edged with an icy hatred. “We’ve endured an absent leader before and we won’t suffer through it again.”
Sally ignored the female’s unmistakable jealousy. It was obvious she wanted Roke for herself.
No big shocker.
“What does that mean?”
The vampire grabbed the bars of the cell, her frigid gaze pinning Sally in place.
“There are younger, stronger clansmen who have won the battles of Durotriges and are now prepared to challenge for their right to become chief.”
Oh. Sally’s stomach churned with a growing horror. Of all the various scenarios she’d envisioned for Roke’s return to his clan, this one had never even blipped on her radar.
“He’s going to be challenged?”
“If he can’t prove he’s willing to put you aside.”
“That’s not fair,” Sally whispered. “He didn’t create the mating, I did.”
“Then break it,” the leech abruptly hissed.
“I . . . can’t.”