A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(32)

Or was it possible that he regretted his humiliating questions? So much that he would react by absently digging into the table? She shook her head.

He wouldn’t regret humiliating her—not when he so obviously enjoyed it.



“What do we know?” Annika asked. She took a deep breath, wincing as her healing ribs screamed in protest, and glanced over the Valkyrie who were present. Lucia, Regin, Kaderin, and others, waiting to act, waiting for the direction Annika would have to give.

N?x was conspicuously absent, having likely wandered onto the neighbor’s property again. Regin was on the computer, accessing the coven’s database, researching Ivo and any other vampire sightings. Her brilliant face illuminated the shatterproof screen more than it did her.

“Hmm. That would be only two measly things for certain,” said Regin. “Ivo the Cruel is seeking someone among all the Valkyrie. And he still hasn’t found her, whoever she is, because the encounters haven’t stopped. Our sisters in the New Zealand coven write that they’re ‘chockablock’ with vampires. What does chockablock mean? No. Really.”

Annika ignored the last. She was still furious with Regin for abetting Emma. Because of her, Emma was now running around Europe with a—what had Regin called him?—a hottie. On top of this, Regin had had the nerve to accuse Annika of “smothering.” It wasn’t as if Annika didn’t want Em to meet a man, but she was still so young and they knew nothing about this male other than the fact that he was strong enough to take down a vampire. Regin had actually thought to make Annika feel better by saying, “Dude, I could tell—Emma wants him in the worst way….” Annika inwardly shook herself, focusing on the situation at hand. “We have to determine Ivo’s purpose.”

Kaderin said, “Myst just escaped his dungeon five years ago. He could want her back.”

“All this to recapture her?” Annika asked. Myst the Coveted, considered the most beautiful Valkyrie, had been under his power. She’d escaped when the vampire rebels took his castle. That situation always enraged Annika. Indiscretions between Myst and Wroth, a rebel general, had occurred.

Until two days ago, Annika had believed Myst had put that vampire and the entire disgusting situation behind her. Yet everyone had heard Myst’s heart speed up at the mere mention of vampires in the New World. She’d checked her flame-red hair again and again before joining a group setting out to hunt them.

No, Myst hadn’t moved on from the general. Had Ivo been unable to forget his stunning captive?

“Could be Emma,” Regin offered.

Annika shot her a sharp glare. “He doesn’t even know of her existence.”

“That we are aware of.”

Annika pinched her forehead. “Where the hell is N?x?” This wasn’t a time for conjecture—they needed N?x’s foresight. “Check Emma’s credit card again. Any new purchases?”

Regin logged into the coven’s card accounts, and within minutes she had Emma’s statement pulled up. “These records are lagging over a day behind. But there were some clothing purchases—how much trouble can she be in if she’s clothes shopping? And here’s a restaurant bill from the Crillon. Tightwad better be paying her back.”

“What would Ivo want with Emma anyway?” Lucia asked. As she did whenever she mulled possibilities, she plucked at the string on her bow. “She may be the last female vampire, but she’s not full-blooded.”

“If we think logically, the odds point to Myst,” Kaderin said.

Annika had to agree. Considering Myst’s heart-stopping beauty, how could Ivo not want her back?

“And one other thing that tips the scales in Myst’s favor?” Kaderin added. “She hasn’t returned from her hunt and she hasn’t called.”

Settled then. For now. “Try to keep tabs on Emma’s movements. We’ll begin searching for Myst.”

Regin peered around her at all the damage in the manor. “Should I renew the inscription with the witches?”

“Mystical protection can be cracked, as we well know. Only one guardianship is foolproof.” Annika exhaled wearily. “We will bring in the ancient scourge.” And be forced to pay the wraiths in the currency they desired.

Regin sighed. “Well, damn, and here I was getting attached to my hair.”





11


G loaming arrived in the countryside of southern Scotland, casting a last light over their inn. As Emma slept, Lachlain sat in bed next to her, drinking yet another cup of coffee.

The majority of his day had been full, by design, so he wouldn’t sleep. Now he relaxed next to her, clad in nothing but comfortable jeans that came broken-in like boots might be. He read one of the few contemporary novels from the inn’s library and half-listened to the news. He might even have been content—if he had taken her last night. And if he was confident he was about to again.

There’d been no chance of that, even if she hadn’t been shaking with emotion the entire drive after his blunt questioning debacle at the restaurant. He’d thought he could anger her into a response, get her nettled as she’d been just that evening over the state of the room. Instead, she’d tilted her head and given him an expression so stark it had torn at him.

By the time they’d reached the inn last night, Emma had been out of her head with fatigue and hadn’t even protested when he’d stripped her to her underwear and put them in the bath. Of course, he’d found himself fighting unbearable lust once again. Yet instead of punishing her for it, when she’d gone soft in his arms he’d petted her once more, staring at the ceiling in confusion.