Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(52)

“No, I think the box has more power than I feared,” he corrected in dark tones. “What does it say?”

“It’s still mostly garbled. Like a radio station that’s not quite tuned in,” she said, knowing she wasn’t making much sense. “But this is royalty.” She pointed to a glyph that resembled an elaborate star, before moving to the one that Cyn had assumed was a closing door. “And this isn’t the retreat of the fey.”

“Then what is it?”

“A prison.”

Roke nodded, accepting her explanation without hesitation.

Sally clenched her teeth against the renegade flutter of her heart. His absolute faith in her was almost as unnerving as his tender concern.

“Royalty in prison,” he murmured. “Do the two glyphs go together?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it.”

Not that it helped, she ruefully acknowledged.

Even if she was learning how to decipher the glyphs, they weren’t giving her the sort of information that could tell her why she was suddenly attracting fey like bees to honey.

“Anything else?” Roke asked, his fingers lightly brushing her shoulder as she hesitated. “Sally?”

The casual contact sent tiny jolts of pleasure through her, threatening to drive any rational thought from her mind.

She turned the box over, grimly ignoring the cool fingers that continued to stroke over her acutely sensitive skin.

“I think this is a map.”

Roke leaned forward, the sweep of his hair against her cheek as soft as satin.

“A map to where?”

She breathed in the scent of potent male, soothed by the dark spice even as it stirred her arousal.

“I don’t know. But it’s important.” She wrinkled her nose, glancing to the side to meet Roke’s steady gaze. “I’m sorry.”

His hand moved to cup her chin, turning her head so he could study her rueful expression.

“Sorry about what?”

“I know you would rather be searching for my father so we can break our mating,” she said. “Not chasing down some imp in Chicago.”

His eyes flashed with silver fire, as if annoyed by her words.

“What I want is to know that you’re safe, after that . . .” He leaned down to kiss her with a mind-numbing intensity before giving her lower lip a punishing nip. “Nothing else matters.”

“Roke—”

Her hand had lifted to touch his cheek, forgetting that she’d just decided it was far too risky to give in to her passions, when the temperature abruptly dropped and Roke was leaping off the bed.

“Get dressed,” he commanded in low, urgent tones, moving to yank open the nearby closet and pulling on a pair of faded jeans he found hung inside.

Scrambling off the bed with far less grace, Sally hurried to where she’d left her clothes folded on a nearby chair.

“What is it?”

“Our least favorite demon,” he muttered, his expression grim as he grabbed a gun from the floor.

He must have brought it up with him when he heard her cry out.

“Crap,” she muttered, hastily pulling on the clothes she’d washed earlier before slipping her feet into her tennis shoes. “What’s the plan?”

He moved toward the window, his gaze inspecting their surroundings.

“We need to get to the garage,” he at last decided. “There should be something with enough horsepower to outrun even the fastest demon.”

“I’m ready,” she said, tucking the box in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Roke led the way to the door, halting on the landing as he tilted back his head to allow his senses to flow through the silent house.

He leaned down to speak directly in her ear. “We’ll go out the back.”

“Through the kitchen,” she whispered back.

“Why?”

“My potions.”

He gave a short nod. “Let’s go.”

They pressed against the wall as they moved down the stairs, carefully avoiding the splashes of moonlight.

He forced her to pause again as they reached the bottom of the stairs, his muscles coiled to strike as he tested the air for the location of their enemy.

At last he gave a jerk of his head and Sally hurried into the kitchen, gathering the small jars of potion she’d prepared during the long day.

They wouldn’t be much help.

One was a disguise spell she intended to use once she’d located the necessary amulets to mask their trail, and the other was a potion to create a small explosion that might help confuse the enemy.

“This is all I have.”

He crossed the tiled floor, pulling open the back door. Scanning the darkness, he at last gave a wave of his hand.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

For once Sally didn’t argue.

She might be a powerful witch, but Roke was the superior fighter.

She didn’t want him hesitating to attack because she was in the way.

The chilled air wrapped around her as Sally stepped out of the house, the scent of pine trees and frost teasing at her nose.

Roke, however, obviously caught a less pleasing odor as his lips curled back to reveal his massive fangs.

Hissing in fury, he turned to the side, his head tilting backward as a shadow detached itself from the roof of the house to aim straight at his head.