Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(103)

But even as she told herself to turn around and return to Styx’s lair, her feet refused to move.

Instead she remained frozen in place, her curiosity overcoming her common sense.

“Why?”

He paused, his amber gaze lowering to where tiny flowers were beginning to bloom along the edge of his bare feet.

It was the most amazing sight.

“I am beginning to realize that I have not been the father you wish me to be,” he at last said, the stiffness of his tone indicating how hard it was to concede he might not be perfect.

She jerked her gaze up to study his carefully composed expression.

“That’s not your fault.”

And it wasn’t.

Sariel was the leader of people who obviously didn’t put value on emotions. He couldn’t have known how desperately she wanted a father who could fill the dark void in the center of her heart.

“Given time I believe we can create a better understanding of one another,” he persisted.

Sally frowned. Was he being for real?

Could he truly want . . . an understanding? Whatever the hell that meant.

“Why would you want that?”

Another awkward pause. “It is difficult for me to admit, but it’s possible we have become too isolated as a people.”

She remained suspicious. Who could blame her? So far Sariel had been clear that she’d been created for one purpose. And it wasn’t to be his loving daughter.

“I thought that was the whole point of leaving here?”

He shrugged. “It was, but after meeting you I believe there’s something to be said for variety. And for—”

“What?”

“And for having a connection to the world beyond our borders.”

She sensed he had a point. She just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“What sort of connection?”

His gaze abruptly lifted, the amber eyes shimmering with hints of jade.

“You.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

He seemed to search for the proper words. “You could be a diplomat between our world and this one.”

She jerked in shock.

A diplomat? Her?

It was a career she’d never considered.

She had no skill with languages, no personal charm, not to mention the fact she tended to become a smartass when she was feeling defensive.

Not the sort of characteristics that would win friends and influence people.

On the other hand, she was one of the rare few who possessed the blood of a Chatri who was also of this world.

That did make her . . . unusual.

“Oh.”

Sariel held her gaze. “Would you like that?”

“Yes.” Sally widened her eyes in surprise as she felt an unmistakable surge of anticipation. She might not fit among the Chatri, but she could offer them something no one else could. “Yes, I think I would.”

“Good.” With a triumphant smile he grasped her hand. “Let us go.”

It was the abrupt burst of colors that warned Sally her father meant to leave immediately.

She tried to tug her hand free, but this time her father refused to loosen his grip.

“Wait—” she protested, but it was too late.

Already the swirls of magic were dancing around her, sucking her into the portal and away from Roke.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Leaving Styx to deal with his endless duties as Anasso, Roke headed directly into the moon-drenched gardens.

He wasn’t intending to stick his nose into Sally’s private meeting with her father. That would be . . . wrong, wouldn’t it?

But, if his lazy stroll happened to take him in the same direction of his mate, then he couldn’t help if he happened to overhear their conversation.

A fine plan that was interrupted by the blond-haired berserker who almost instantly joined him near a marble fountain.

Cyn had proven to be invaluable help when they’d arrived at Styx’s lair with a gaggle of terrified fey. While Troy had been busy contacting the family members of the recently returned prisoners, Cyn had not only revealed a surprising kindness as he’d urged them to their various rooms, but he’d also managed to contact several local fey who brought food and clothing that were specifically designed to make the nearly comatose fey feel at home.

He was dressed similar to Roke in faded jeans and tight black tee, although Cyn chose shitkickers instead of Roke’s knee-high moccasins.

As usual he’d braided the front strands of his long hair and tied them off with metal beads, while he had his favorite dagger strapped to his upper leg and a handgun holstered on his hip.

Never let it be said Cyn didn’t know how to rock the screw-with-me-and-die vibe.

They walked in silence until they neared the marble grotto in the center of the garden.

“So you’ll be returning to your clan?” Cyn abruptly demanded.

Roke grimaced. It was a discussion he’d been putting off.

“Once Sally is comfortable with the idea,” he said.

Cyn sent him a knowing glance. “You think that might be a problem?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What if it is?”

Roke shrugged. His decision had been made.

“Then I hand the position to Kale. He’s a competent leader who I trust to protect my people.”