Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(37)

She looked down at what she held. The cotton pad was blood-soaked. As well as she seemed to be getting along with Carling, giving a sample of her blood over to the Vampyre attendant of one of the most Powerful sorceresses in the world didn’t seem like the best of ideas. She cleared her throat with a delicate cough and said, “Er.”

“Of course Rhoswen will burn the bandages properly in the fireplace,” Carling said, as she finished her wine.

She didn’t bother to dissemble or apologize for her caution. “Thank you,” she said. She dropped the bandage on the tray.

Rhoswen turned to take Carling’s glass and place it on the tray, her expression the blank smoothness of the perfect servant. Both Niniane and Carling watched as Rhoswen placed the bandages in the fireplace and lit them with a taper. They watched in silence as the small flame flared and died.

Freed from pain and lethargy, Niniane’s thoughts arrowed back to Tiago. He had to be worried about her, unless he had some way to track the direction of the Djinn’s transport. She didn’t have any idea about Tiago’s capabilities as a tracker, other than Dragos always swore Tiago was the best at what he did. It was possible Tiago already knew she was safe with Carling (and she was, wasn’t she?).

Maybe Tiago was relieved to be rid of her. And why wouldn’t he be? He had made it clear from the moment he arrived that he considered the whole trip to be a pain in the ass. She bit her lip as she fought the urge to squirm.

Whether he was relieved or not, she knew the obsessive nature of a Wyr sentinel. She had been taken on his watch. He wouldn’t rest until he got her back, which meant—

She sucked in a breath as certainty settled into place. He didn’t know where she was.

“I’m sure Tiago has learned his lesson,” she said to Carling. With an effort she kept her voice steady and devoid of all urgency. “Now I would like to let him know that I’m with you and that I’m all right.”

A shadow of ugliness crossed Carling’s lovely features. The Vampyre said in a smooth voice, “Why don’t I just send one of my attendants with a message?”

Niniane looked at her. “Because we both know he might be too distracted to listen to anything your attendant might say. Then you could continue to take your revenge on him for blowing off your earlier message.”

“Distracted,” said Carling, dark eyes glittering. “I like that.”

Whatever else might be communicated, one overall particular message was coming in loud and clear. You ignored the Vampyre Queen very much at your own peril. Carling wasn’t going to budge on this unless she was pushed.

Niniane sighed and said, point-blank, “Give it up, Carling. You and I have a terrific chance right now to develop a good alliance. It’s been a long time since you’ve had a good alliance with the Dark Fae. But it isn’t going to happen if you insist on tormenting Tiago with my disappearance—or if you insist on tormenting him for any other reason.”

“How interesting. You would put a potential Nightkind–Dark Fae alliance in jeopardy over one bad-mannered, bad-tempered Wyr.”

Niniane tapped a finger on the arm of her chair. It wasn’t wise to lose your temper with the Vampyre Queen either. After a moment, she kept her voice measured as she said, “I will remind you that Tiago followed me to Chicago after I went missing, and he saved my life. This is after the Wyr provided me with shelter and protection from my uncle Urien for almost two hundred years. Don’t force me to choose between you, because you won’t win.”

Carling gave her a faint smile and conceded the point. “Fair enough.”

Something crashed nearby. This time Niniane couldn’t control her jump. She heard a sharp shout down the hall, a growl, and another booming crash. It sounded like a door had been slammed off its hinges. The Vampyre turned her head toward the hall. Carling remarked, “Apparently choosing a method of communication with your Wyr has become a moot point.”

TIAGO! Oh gods, no. He couldn’t attack the Vampyres or, with the mood Carling was in, she might very well have him killed.

Niniane bolted out of her chair and ran to the suite door. Somehow Carling was right beside her, long graceful fingers curling around the door handle. It seemed to take the Vampyre forever to open the door. As soon as she could, Niniane slipped through the opening and darted into the hall.

She took a mental snapshot of the scene in one horrified glance.

A heavy fire door lay on its side against a wall thirty feet away. Tiago’s massive figure filled an open doorway that led to a stairwell. Three male Vampyres stood in a semicircle in front of him, each one a beautiful, lethal weapon. The blonde Vampyre Rhoswen had positioned herself between Tiago and her mistress. Several humans stood in open doorways, and some of them had guns. All of the guns were pointed at Tiago.

And Tiago—he was something out of a nightmare. He had weapons: a sword strapped to his back, guns in holsters. He had partially shapeshifted, a clear indicator of a Wyr caught in some kind of extreme emotion such as fear or rage. The bones of his face were alien, shifted into wrongness. His chest, arms and legs were wider and rippled with muscles where muscles weren’t supposed to be. Talons tipped his powerful hands.

When Niniane appeared in the hall, Tiago’s dark, savage face turned to her.

His eyes.

Their normal obsidian color and sardonic expression were gone. They blazed with white fire.