A Hunger Like No Other (Immortals After Dark #2)(93)

Garreth said, “Let me talk to the vampire I scented in the house.”

“He wouldn’t know anything—”

“Let me talk to him!” he roared.

Annika told Lucia to go get Myst and Wroth. Seconds later, Emma heard Wroth’s deeply accented voice, and her lids flickered open. Then, as if in slow motion, Garreth shook free of Regin and lunged for him. They caught each other by the throat.

“Heal her, vampire,” Garreth bit out.

Low, deadly, all eerie calm, this Wroth simply murmured, “Don’t do that again, Lykae.”

He didn’t use the if-then threat. As if he knew the mere idea of his displeasure would terrify others.

Garreth released the man. Seconds later, Wroth let go.

“Heal her.”

“I don’t know the old ways like some. For a price, I offer to contact Kristoff and ask this boon from him.”

“I’ll pay it—”

Annika interrupted, “But then Kristoff will know of her existence.”

Garreth scoffed. “Surely the vampire’s already told him?”

Myst said, “Wroth protects our interests,” but Annika and Garreth clearly appeared doubtful.

Garreth turned to Annika. “If we worked together, the vampires would no’ hand us our asses like the last Accession. We ally, and we keep her from them.”

Wroth warned in a deadly tone, “Wait till I’m out of the room before you conspire.” No consequence clause.

“But Kristoff has my blood and I killed Demestriu,” Emma whispered.

Myst crossed to the bed and stroked her hair. “I know, darling. You’ve said this before.”

Garreth asked Wroth, “What is your price?”

“I want my union with Myst recognized by all.”

Silence.

Lightning flashed outside, and Annika bowed her head.

While Myst gaped at her sister, the vampire traced to just before her. He cupped his hand behind Myst’s neck, and stared down into her eyes. Breathless, she gazed up at him as though with wonder, and then they were gone.





On the jet, Lachlain pawed at the DVD player.

Harmann had downloaded the video to this machine, and he’d explained how to use it again and again, but Lachlain’s hands were shaking.

He couldn’t imagine what she had gone through. Even the strongest Lykae never returned from Demestriu’s lair, yet she’d defeated him—something no being that had ever lived had been able to accomplish.

Lachlain needed to see even as he dreaded it, needed to find out why she hadn’t returned to him. To Kinevane. When he’d finally gotten far from Helvita and staggered back to Harmann, he’d had Harmann call Kinevane.

She wasn’t there. She’d traced to… her real home.

The player finally started, the video loop beginning with her alone in the room, just before Demestriu traced inside.

As Lachlain watched their conversation, his heart sank to see Emma behaving as if Demestriu’s comments didn’t hurt her. She might even not realize they did, but Lachlain could see something fading in her eyes each time. Underneath all her swagger, she was still the same vulnerable Emmaline.

Demestriu looked as horrific and awesome as Lachlain remembered. And yet, when she’d admitted her mother had told them nothing about Demestriu, Lachlain could swear he’d looked—for the briefest moment—hurt.

“That’s Lachlain’s ring,” Emma said at one point.

How did she know that?

Demestriu frowned, then glanced down at his hand. Moments passed before he said, “I suppose it is.”

Lachlain had long imagined Demestriu continually staring at the ring, reveling in what he’d done, pleased to possess a constant reminder of Lachlain’s torture.

Demestriu had hardly noticed it.

Then Lachlain heard the most horrifying revelation.

Emma had dreamed his memories. Of the fire. That’s what had happened that night when she’d woken in such pain. Looking back, he could see she’d felt the agony he had.

He closed his eyes, appalled. He would rather have died than convey that horror to her.

Lachlain couldn’t help but watch as events continued to unfold.

The fight made his muscles clench with tension, though he knew the outcome. But he had not known she’d been injured so grievously. Now his worry intensified, eating at him.

When Emma toed the pool of blood as she might the cold ocean, she flinched. She held the sword over her head, but it shook wildly and tears streamed down her cheeks. How he wished he could have taken that fear and pain for her.

Lachlain frowned when Demestriu’s eyes changed and when the blood flowed as if he’d been lanced of a venom. He’d appeared…relieved to die.

Emma’s beautiful face was drawn in an anguished expression as she knelt beside him, desperate not to kill him. Lachlain saw the exact moment she’d known that she would have to. Though it went against everything she was, she’d done it. All alone, his brave Emmaline had slain her own father, then had looked to be sizing up Ivo directly after. But luckily, she’d saved him for Lachlain.

Her final act—leaping into the sun…

He was awed by her courage, but knew the toll this would take on her. Knew the toll he himself had taken on her. Was he selfish to go after her?