Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #9)(87)

A low growl stirred the air and, opening her eyes, she met Caine’s glowing gaze.

Her heart briefly halted at the glitter of feral insanity that remained in the astonishing blue depths. Gods, had she failed? Was he too far gone to accept the mating she was offering?

Or had she mistaken the instinctive need of a male alpha to protect her for something more . . . eternal?

She was pulling back in raw disappointment when she belatedly caught the scent of his musk. His wolf. She leaned closer, fiercely concentrating on the faint sense of his wolf that strained to reach her.

“Caine,” she breathed, leaning down to bury her face in his neck. “I’m yours. Bond with me.”

He growled again, but there was no threat in the sound. She pressed herself closer to his trembling body, feeling his power brushing over her skin and the familiar heat of him cloaking around her.

Then, as if a leash had suddenly snapped, she could feel the essence of his wolf slamming into her, filling the void in her aching heart with an intoxicating combination of wild animal and human male.

Reeling beneath the impact, she made a sound of shock. Oh . . . gods. It felt as if she’d been run over by a truck.

Was this the mating?

The question lasted only long enough for her own wolf to surge up to meet the charging assault, a stunning joy exploding through her.

Caine.

He was a part of her.

In every beat of her heart. And in every breath.

They were one.

Complete.

Slowly pulling back, she shuddered, still trying to adjust to the new sensations racing through her.

And the power.

Not just her power. Or Caine’s power.

But an astonishing new melding of the two that sizzled through her like a bolt of lightning.

Her gaze encountered the blue eyes that still glowed with a feral wildness, but deep in her heart Caine was firmly entrenched.

“Just hold on, Caine,” she rasped. “Hold on.”

Styx’s study

Dawn was approaching, pressing on Styx with a ruthless heaviness. He needed to shower, to feed, to spend several hours in the arms of his mate, and at least a week of uninterrupted sleep.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to be getting any of those things. At least, not any time soon.

Instead, he was closeted with Salvatore and Roke as they poured over the maps he’d spread across the desk. Regan had done a good job getting reinforcements to Kostas’s warehouse, but now they needed a full-out strategy. Which meant coordinating with Salvatore.

The King of Weres didn’t look any better than Styx. His elegant suit was gone and replaced with a pair of dojo pants and a loose sweatshirt. And his lean face lined with a tension that was echoed in all of them.

Roke was standing silently on the other side of the desk. The younger vampire possessed a talent not only for reading prophecies, but for speaking demon dialects. He would be needed if they had to contact the leaders of other species.

Styx pointed to a spot on the map south of Chicago, speaking directly to the King of Weres.

“Viper has his clan stationed where the rift is opened, as well as several of your Weres outside the warehouse to protect them from any enemies that might be sent to stop them.” He brought Salvatore up to speed. “Ariyal should be arriving with several of his tribesmen within the hour.”

Salvatore nodded. The Sylvermyst were the most powerful of the fey and as their prince, Ariyal was the most talented at creating portals. If anyone could find a way to shut the rift it would be him.

“Does he think he can close the opening?”

“No one knows,” Styx conceded with a shrug. “If he can’t close it they intend to try and block it.”

“If they can’t?”

“I’m still working on plan B.”

They grimaced in unison.

“What about the Chalice?” Salvatore at last asked.

Styx stroked the amulet at his neck, grateful that he hadn’t been forced to inform Abby that she was going to be spending the next few weeks hidden from the oncoming war.

As the Phoenix—the mortal chalice who held the Goddess of Light—she had the ability to scorch demons into tiny piles of ash. A wise man didn’t like to annoy her.

“Dante has taken her to a secret lair.” Even Styx wasn’t sure where they’d gone. “She’s not happy to be taken out of the fight, but we have to protect the goddess she carries inside her. If we can somehow strip the Dark Lord of her newest powers, then we’ll need the Phoenix to keep her trapped in her current prison.”

“Good.” Assured that the goddess was properly protected, the Were turned his attention to the looming fight. “Where’s Jagr?”

“With Regan for now. Tomorrow at nightfall he will lead Troy in the search for other rifts that the Dark Lord might have opened.”

Salvatore arched his brows at the mention of Troy, the Prince of Imps. “Poor schmuck,” he muttered.

Styx couldn’t argue. The tall, crimson-haired fey who strutted around in spandex and flirted with anything that crossed his path was a pain in the ass, but war truly did make strange bedfellows.

“Troy is eccentric, but there’s no one who possesses a greater talent in sensing the dimensions that separate worlds,” he said. “Even Ariyal admitted the imp was superior to his Sylvermysts in predicting where the veils are thinning. He should be able to detect a rift long before any of us could.”