Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(69)

She had a flashback to magic that seared through her just as the swirl of color had engulfed them. Was it possible that she actually created a portal that had brought her here?

She was shaking her head before the thought could fully form.

“That’s impossible.”

The amber eyes continued to study her, his exquisite face impossible to read. Had he never seen a witch before?

“You’ll discover nothing is impossible once you’ve fully embraced your birthright.”

Embrace her birthright?

She didn’t know what that meant and she didn’t care.

All she wanted was to be away from this too-perfect place and in the arms of her mate.

“No,” she denied. “Where’s Roke?”

“The vampire?”

“Yes.”

He paused, the magic thickening in the air. “Your portal sent him to the King of Vampires,” he at last said.

Sally released a shaky sigh. Relief was flooding through her at the knowledge that Roke was safe, even as she tried to wrap her brain around the idea she’d created a portal that not only sent Roke to Chicago, but brought her to this place.

“Dear goddess.” She pressed a hand to her aching head. “This is madness.”

“I agree,” Sariel surprisingly murmured. “And only you can bring it to an end.”

“Me?”

“It’s the reason you were created.”

She flinched at his unexpected words, then a bitter laugh was wrenched from her lips.

“Newsflash, Sariel, I was created to maintain a sorcery spell I inherited from my mother.”

He gave a slow blink, as if wondering why she would bother him with such boring trivialities.

“The spell was inconsequential,” he informed her.

“Inconsequential?” she repeated, stupidly offended by his lack of interest. “That . . . vampire could have destroyed the world.”

She’d nearly died during the battle. Hardly inconsequential. At least not to her.

“Perhaps, but your mother’s need for a daughter was only a minor reason for your conception.”

She clenched her teeth. The man might be all kinds of beautiful, but he had the personality of a slug.

“How would you know?”

He easily held her gaze. “Because I am your father.”

Roke paced until the grass was trampled and a small groove was worn into the ground.

It was that or crossing the short distance to grab the Prince of Imps by his long red hair and shaking the shit out of him.

Something Styx had made him swear he wouldn’t do.

When Levet had returned with Troy, Roke had exploded in fury.

The creature looked like he should be working in a strip club.

Large and muscular with the build of a linebacker, he was wearing zebra striped spandex pants and a see-through shirt that revealed the width of his pale chest and the nipples that had been pierced so he could run a delicate gold chain between them.

The crimson fire of his hair was pulled into a dozen intricate braids that emphasized his delicate features while the emerald eyes smoldered with a sensuality that was almost tangible.

He was a walking, talking invitation to sex.

What the hell good could he do?

But once Styx had briefly explained they needed him to seek out the fey magic, the imp had set to work with an efficiency that helped to ease Roke’s initial desire to toss him into the trash.

And it didn’t hurt that Levet had stomped toward the mansion, muttering something about visiting Darcy.

There was no way Roke’s nerves could endure both Levet and Troy, the Prince of Imps, in the same space.

Still, as the seconds ticked past and the imp continued to kneel a few feet away, his hands raised as if he could feel something floating in the air, Roke’s attempt at patience was about to come to a violent end.

“Well?” he at last barked.

Troy slowly rose to his feet, brushing the dust off his obnoxious spandex pants.

“There has definitely been a portal opened here,” he said. “Recently.”

Roke hissed in frustration. “We know that much.”

Styx stepped next to him, placing a warning hand on his shoulder before speaking directly to the imp.

“Can you identify who opened the portal?”

Troy shrugged, a bemused expression settling on his narrow face.

“It is fey, but . . . more.”

“More what?” Roke snapped.

“More everything.” The imp once again held his hand toward the empty air, as if he could feel precisely where the portal had opened. “The magic is intoxicating.”

Roke bared his fangs. “You’re not helping.”

“Leeches.” Troy slid a hand down his too-tight pants. “Yummy, but always so impatient.”

Styx tightened his hand on Roke’s shoulder, keeping him from lunging.

“Tell us who opened the portal,” Styx commanded.

The bemused expression returned to Troy’s face. “If I didn’t know better, I would say it was a Chatri.”

Roke jerked in shock. “Shit.”

Troy’s eyes narrowed, revealing a cunning he hid behind his frivolous façade.

“You know fey history?” the imp asked.

“More than I ever wanted to,” Roke growled, his hand pressing against the empty ache in the center of his chest. Had a Chatri somehow created a portal that had stolen his mate? Or was the magic merely a residue. “Can fey magic be contained in a box?” he abruptly demanded.