Beyond the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #6)(59)

The Chicago mansion of the Anasso.

The food had to be safe.

Eager to replenish her strength, Harley polished off the entire plate, ignoring the fine bottle of wine and instead downed the pitcher of water.

Only then did she take time to actually study her surroundings.

Holy crap.

Had there been a fire sale at Big Lots on marble? And crystal chandeliers? And Louis XIV furniture?

Or had her sister been punk’d by the guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?

She was counting the number of sickeningly sweet cupids painted on the vaulted ceiling when she sensed the approach of a vampire. Turning, she squared her shoulders and prepared to meet her brother-in-law.

Or at least, that was the plan.

She wasn’t sure anyone could be prepared for the six-foot-six Aztec warrior with hair braided down his back, dressed in black leather and motorcycle boots. Just for a moment she was speechless as she studied the proud, angular face and dark gold eyes that held the sort of power usually only found at nuclear plants.

He was terrifyingly beautiful.

Then her gaze narrowed and her hands curled into fists.

Dammit. She’d been knocked out for hours and hauled miles from Salvatore’s trail.

Someone was going to pay.

“A dart in the butt?” she gritted. “Really?”

The King of Vampires was trained well enough to hide his amusement and instead managed to look just plain arrogant.

“You left Santiago little choice.” Was this his lame-ass stab at making amends? “He did insist that I offer his apologies.”

“Well, that makes it all better.” She tilted back her head to meet his piercing gaze. “I suppose you must be Styx?”

“I am.”

“Is my sister lurking nearby?”

“She is downstairs, anxiously waiting for an opportunity to speak with you.” With unnerving speed he was standing directly in front of her, his nose flaring as if he were testing her scent. “I asked if I could have a few minutes alone with you first.”

Harley stepped back, her hackles stirring at his sudden intrusion into her personal space.

“Watch it, vampire. You might be some sort of relation in our twisted family tree, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”

He folded his arms over his massive chest, not particularly terrified by her threat.

“I only want to ask a few questions.”

“What questions?”

He grimaced, looking oddly uncomfortable. “There is no delicate means of approaching this.”

“You’ve already had me drugged and kidnapped,” she dryly pointed out. “There’s no need to pretend good manners at this late stage.”

“Very well. Why do you carry Salvatore’s scent?”

She choked at the blunt question. Surely there had to be some etiquette against random sniffing?

“I can’t imagine how that’s any of your business.”

“I’m not trying to intrude into your privacy, Harley.”

“No?” Her humorless laugh echoed through the cavernous room that had grown cold with the vampire’s pulsing power. “God only knows what you would ask if you were trying to intrude. What does it matter to you what I smell like?”

“Because it has been countless centuries since a werewolf has mated.” He towered over her; big, dark, and deadly. “You’ll have to forgive me if I wonder if this is a miracle or a hoax.”

Her brows snapped together. “Why would I try to hoax you?”

“Not you,” he gently corrected. “My suspicion is that someone or something is attempting to deceive Salvatore.”

She froze, an unpleasant fear settling in the pit of her stomach.

When Salvatore had alleged she was his mate, she had been shocked out of her mind. After all, great sex was one thing, but an eternal commitment was a little more than she wanted hanging over her head.

So why did the thought that Salvatore’s bond might be no more than a scam on the King of Weres make her blood run cold?

Gritting her teeth, Harley pretended that an empty ache hadn’t bloomed in the center of her heart, and concentrated on the only thing that was important.

Saving Salvatore from his own stupidity.

“Briggs,” she muttered.

Styx nodded. “Santiago mentioned the Were. Tell me what you know of him.”

Harley ignored her instinctive bristling at his sharp command and revealed the bits and scraps she’d picked up of the perverted pureblood.

Styx listened in silence, his expression settling into grim lines that oddly reminded her of Salvatore.

Or perhaps not so oddly.

They were both leaders who carried the weight of their people on their shoulders.

The heavy sense of responsibility left its mark.

“Only a demon lord should have the power to resurrect a dead Were.”

“Demon lord?” She grimaced. “I’m afraid to ask.”

Without warning, the ancient vampire turned to pace across the marble floor, his movements surprisingly fluid for such a large beast.

“They are disciples of the dark prince, although few have shown an interest in this world since humans began to crawl from their caves.” His lips curled with disdain. Obviously the vampire wasn’t a big fan of demon lords. “And the few who continued to dabble among us lesser creatures were blocked entirely when the Phoenix was called into the Chalice.”