Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(81)

“Of course it does,” Cyn protested. “For one thing it makes reversing your mating more difficult. We know very little about the Chatri magic. Lucky for you I’ve been doing some research and—”

“Stop it,” Roke snapped.

Cyn frowned in confusion. “Stop what?”

“The research.” Roke paused, concentrating on leashing his anger. Only when he was certain he wasn’t going to bring the roof down on their heads did he continue. “Sally is my mate. There will be no reversing it.”

“Roke.”

“No,” Roke bit out. “That’s the last word on the subject.”

Cyn flattened his lips, obviously fighting the urge to insist that Roke wasn’t thinking clearly.

A good thing.

If one more person tried to convince him to get rid of his mate, he was going to . . .

The various possibilities ran through his mind, each bloodier than the next.

As if sensing he was on the brink of snapping, Cyn held up his hands in a gesture of submission.

“Whatever you want.”

Roke wasn’t stupid. Cyn would continue searching for a way to break the mating no matter what Roke said. They were all certain he would come to his senses and demand the bond with Sally be ended.

So long as they kept their thoughts to themselves, he didn’t give a shit.

He understood.

Their mating was eternal.

Just as it was supposed to be.

Giving a shake of his head, Roke squashed his anger and instead concentrated on how he could best use Cyn’s presence.

“If you actually want to help, you’ll tell me what you know about the Nebules,” he at last demanded.

Cyn’s eyes widened, easily recalling the glyphs he’d been trying to decipher for Roke.

“Of course,” he muttered. “The mist people that were mentioned on the music box. You think the glyph was talking about the Nebules?”

“Yes.”

Cyn shook his head, the beads at the end of his narrow braids banging against his chest.

“I thought they were extinct?”

“That was the general opinion.”

“What’s your opinion?”

Roke didn’t hesitate. “I think one is hunting my mate.”

Cyn nodded, accepting Roke’s fear without question. “Do you know why they would be interested in her?”

Roke paced toward a glass case filled with ancient scrolls. Styx’s vast collection of books, scrolls, and artifacts were beginning to take over the McMansion despite Darcy’s best attempts to keep them contained.

“I’m not sure, but it seems to have something to do with the music box,” he said, his voice harsh with frustration. “A music box that just happens to have a map leading to Sally’s father.”

“Ah. You think they’re trying to find the Chatri?”

“I don’t know,” Roke admitted, feeling a vast indifference when it came to his father-in-law. “He claims that he’s being held captive.”

“The Nebule is being held captive?”

“No.” Roke turned back to meet Cyn’s puzzled frown. “Sally’s father.”

“Christ.” Cyn planted his hands on his hips. “Are you deliberately trying to confuse me?”

Roke stepped forward. He would make it crystal clear.

“I need to know how to kill a Nebule.”

“What about the Chatri?”

Roke made a sound of disgust. “As far as I’m concerned he can stay stuck where he is.”

A strange expression settled on Cyn’s bluntly carved face. “And how does Sally feel about her leaving her father trapped?”

Roke tilted his chin. “I intend to make damn certain she doesn’t put herself in danger.”

“Right.” Cyn’s laughter filled the room. “Good luck with that.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Sally clutched the box in her hand as she crept down the grand staircase.

She didn’t really think she could slip through a household of vampires unnoticed. Even if the house wasn’t wired with high-tech security, they would be able to hear her every footstep, her every breath, and every beat of her heart. Not to mention catching her scent from a freaking mile away.

Yeah. There was no sneaking in a vampire house, but she did hope to do some quick research while Roke was otherwise occupied.

Her mate wasn’t going to be pleased when he realized she hadn’t given up her determination to find her father. She grimaced. Not pleased, was the understatement of the century.

He was going to do everything in his power to try to stop her.

Brooding on the upcoming battle, Sally reached the landing and turned toward the hallway leading toward the library before she realized there was a slender figure waiting in a shallow alcove. She came to an abrupt halt, watching the man stroll forward with a wary expression.

He was . . . exotic, to say the least.

She’d never seen hair so red that it glowed beneath the light of the crystal chandelier. Or eyes that exact shade of emerald. And that outfit . . .

The shirt was a flimsy see-through material to emphasize his surprisingly muscular chest and matched with zebra spandex pants that looked like they’d been spray-painted on him.

All in all, he was designed to capture attention.