Bound By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #8)(16)

Who the hell knew when he might need another surprise or two?

But her expression warned that she wasn’t going to stop nagging until she was satisfied with his answer.

Dammit.

“When necessary I can draw on the powers of others,” he admitted between clenched teeth.

She stiffened. “How exactly does that work?”

“Relax, poppet,” he assured her dryly. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when I need power from a leech.”

She studied him, not entirely convinced. “Hmmm.”

He made a sound of impatience, pointed toward the nearby townhouse.

“Can you sense the child?”

Her lips thinned, as if she was annoyed to have to be reminded of why they were lingering in the foggy night.

“No,” she muttered, “but I think the spell that guards the baby prevents me from being able to scent it.” She tilted back her head, allowing her acute senses to absorb her surroundings. She abruptly turned to regard him with a hint of bewilderment. “The Sylvermyst is missing.”

He nodded. “Tearloch left just before your dramatic arrival.”

“He left? Do you know where he was headed?”

His lips twisted. “South.”

Her annoyance intensified. “You know what I mean. I find it hard to believe he would willingly leave behind the baby after he went postal trying to track it down.”

Ariyal had been equally startled when he’d caught sight of Tearloch’s slender form hurrying away from the townhouse. He had even taken a step to follow him, when he realized that the Sylvermyst was alone.

He’d melted back into the shadows, forcing himself to recall that he was there to steal the baby, not confront his tribesman.

“If it was me, I would be seeking allies,” he shared his assumption. “Tearloch’s crazy, not stupid, and he has to know that we’ll be coming after him. And once word gets out he’s in London with the child ...”

She shuddered. “Yeah, every nasty demon with delusions of grandeur is going to be trying to get their hands on the kid.”

“Which is why we’re going to be first in line.”

“We?”

He met her mocking smile with a lift of his brow. “You’re the one who followed me, remember?”

“Unfortunately.”

His gaze drifted down her slender body. “Then we’re in this together.”

“Fine.” She snapped her fingers before his face until he returned his attention to her frustrated glare. “What’s your plan?”

Plan?

Hell, he hadn’t had a plan since following his former prince into the mists of Avalon.

Look how that had turned out.

Now he preferred to stumble from one disaster to another.

“Is the mage alone?”

She again allowed her powers to search through the darkness. “I don’t sense anyone else.”

“Then let’s do this.” He moved to stand directly before the door, holding out a hand as Jaelyn stepped to stand at his side. “Wait.”

“A spell?”

“Yes.”

The sharp chill of her frustration filled the air. “I hate mages.”

He ran his hand over the door, testing the magic that kept it sealed shut.

“It’s one of defense, not offense.”

“Are you certain?”

“It’s either an alarm system or a curse. Difficult to say.” He stepped back, flashing a taunting smile toward his companion. “Ladies first.”

“That’s not funny.”

Pulling her away from the door, he led them toward the back garden.

“Trust me, poppet, I don’t intend to let anything happen to you,” he murmured, flashing a wicked smile. “At least not until I’ve had my fill.”

She bared her fangs. “Are you trying to make me kill you?”

A hot, urgent need hardened his cock. Shit, what was wrong with him?

For all he knew Jaelyn was just waiting for the opportunity to force him back to the Commission.

Or to rip out his throat.

But beneath her prickling aggression he could smell the sweet tang of her matching arousal, and the need to press her against the wet bricks and plunge deep into her body until they were both screaming with satisfaction was becoming an overwhelming compulsion.

“I just can’t seem to resist,” he confessed with a stark honesty that scared the hell out of him.

Caine’s private lair outside Chicago

Santiago stood outside the brick farmhouse with a grim expression.

He was an impressive sight with his black jeans that clung to a tight butt and long muscular legs and a black T-shirt that was stretched over his broad chest. His face was narrow with high cheekbones and his eyes the deep brown of his Spanish ancestors. He was exquisitely handsome with long, raven hair that was left to fall in a perfect curtain down his back.

But it took only a glance to know precisely what he was.

A trained vampire warrior who would kill without mercy.

Which might have explained why the coven of witches who’d been bustling about the cur’s lair for the past two nights had been torn between sexual fascination and abject terror when he strolled past.

That and the big-ass sword he had strapped to his back.