Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(13)

Sally sent him a chiding frown. “Roke.”

Impervious as always to being insulted, Levet moved to take Sally’s hand.

“Au revoir, ma belle,” he murmured, kissing her fingers. “I suspect that our paths will cross again.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Roke growled, trembling as he watched the tiny demon waddle from the room.

Logically he understood the gargoyle was no threat.

Sally had no romantic interest in the aggravating pest.

But the mating wasn’t about logic.

It was about raw male possession that couldn’t bear to see another man near his woman.

Tossing the music box on the nearby bed, Roke prowled forward. He needed to touch his mate.

To replace the scent of another creature with his own.

Easily sensing his laser focus, Sally inched backward, not halting until she was flat against the wall.

“What are you doing?”

“All alone.” He halted a mere breath from her stiff body, his hands gently stroking over her shoulders and down her arms. “At last.”

“Roke.”

Lost in the heady scent of peaches and warm female desire, Roke almost missed the distant roar of an engine.

Then, realizing there could be only one explanation for the sound, he charged toward the window and threw open the shutters.

“Damn,” he hissed.

Sally was swiftly at his side. “What?”

“That winged lump of granite stole my bike.”

Chapter Four

Sally watched Roke pace the claustrophobic confines of her childhood bedroom. She shivered. He was like a caged panther.

One that could devour her in one vicious bite.

If she was smart she would keep her mouth shut and wait for an opportunity to once again escape.

But of course, she wasn’t that smart.

The impulse to needle the annoyed vampire was simply too irresistible.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” she said. “It was just a motorcycle.”

His pacing came to an abrupt halt, his expression one of horror.

“Just a motorcycle?” he growled in disbelief. “It was a custom-built, turbine motorcycle that cost half a million dollars.”

“A half a million?” She gave a choked cough. Sheesh. Being a vampire obviously paid better than being a witch. She had less than twenty bucks to her name. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Why?” He shrugged. “I like speed.”

“Yeah, well I like diamonds, but I wouldn’t spend a half million on one,” she muttered.

Without warning the silver eyes darkened. “I would.”

“You would what?”

“I would spend half a million on diamonds if it pleased you,” he said, his voice low, rough.

Her mouth went dry. “I was just kidding.”

“I’m not.” With a fluid movement he was standing directly before her, his fingers trailing down the curve of her throat. “This satin skin should be draped in the finest gems.” His brooding gaze followed his fingers as they traced the loose neckline of her sweatshirt. “And champagne.”

Excitement tingled through her body, her nipples tightening with unspoken need.

She struggled to think clearly.

“Champagne?”

“I have a rare bottle of Dom Perignon I intend to lick off your body.”

Her gaze lowered to the sensuous promise of his mouth, the vivid image of being stretched on the bed while he licked her from head to toe stealing her breath.

He would be slow, thorough, wickedly skilled.

Oh . . . hell.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

No sex with the yummy, aggravating vampire.

Even if it was fantasy sex.

With an effort she forced her reluctant feet to take a step backward, breaking contact with his destructive touch.

“I don’t suppose there’s any reason to linger here,” she mumbled, awkwardly tugging at her sweatshirt.

There was a flash of fang as Roke struggled to regain control of his own hungers, assuring Sally that whatever was happening between them wasn’t one-sided.

Did the knowledge please or terrify her?

Impossible to say.

“Have you considered the fact that our only means of transportation was my motorcycle you so recently mocked?” he demanded.

Well, of course she hadn’t considered that fact. She’d been zapped around the country by Yannah for the past three weeks, she hadn’t had to consider transportation.

She frowned. “The village—”

“Is locked up tight for the night,” he interrupted.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to hotwire a car.”

His brow arched. “And you feel up to walking the fifteen miles in the cold?”

Her lips parted to point out that he could easily carry her that distance only to snap shut.

Roke was as aware as she was of the option.

Which meant that he intended to make her beg for his help.

Yeah. Hell would freeze over first.

“Then what do you suggest?” she instead gritted.

“Cyn will be here by tomorrow night.” He glanced toward the window that overlooked the bleak, windswept emptiness that surrounded the cottage. “This is as good a place as any for meeting.”