that glowed in the dark eyes revealed the truth of the beast that lived inside him.
Styx on the other hand, didn’t even try to appear civilized.
A six foot five Aztec warrior, he was wearing a pair of leather pants, heavy shit-kickers, and a white silk shirt that was stretched to the limit to cover his broad chest. His long black hair was braided to hang down to his waist and threaded with tiny turquoise amulets. And to complete the image, he had a huge sword strapped to his back.
What was the point in being a badass if you couldn’t look like one?
Setting aside his empty glass, Salvatore flashed a dazzling white smile. A sure sign he was about to be annoying.
“Let me see if I have this right,” the wolf drawled.
Yep. Annoying.
Styx narrowed his dark eyes, his features that were too stark for true beauty tight with warning.
“Do you have to?”
“Oh, yes.” The smile widened. “You asked the clan chief of Nevada to babysit a witch you had locked in your dungeons?”
Styx silently swore to have a chat with his mate once their guests were gone.
He hadn’t intended Salvatore to know that one of his most powerful vampires had been magically forced into a mating.
Hell, he’d had a hard enough time divulging the info with Jagr, his most trusted Raven. It was only because he needed the vampire to do research that he’d revealed the secret.
A mating was the rarest, most sacred, most intimate connection a demon could experience.
To think for a second that it could be inflicted on a vampire against his will was nothing less than...rape.
You didn’t reveal that kind of weakness to your enemies. Even if you did have a peace treaty.
Darcy, however, was a genuine optimist who blithely assumed that Salvatore would never abuse privileged information.
Now Styx was stuck revealing the truth to the mangy mutt.
“Sally Grace was not only a powerful witch who was capable of black magic, but she worshipped the Dark Lord,” he grudgingly explained, not about to admit that it had been more habit than fear that had led him to lock the female in his dungeons. Sally Grace was barely over five foot and weighed less than a hundred pounds. She hadn’t looked like a threat. And she probably wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t been so scared. “Of course I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
“Why Roke?”
Styx shrugged. “I was busy trying to deal with the ancient spirit that was trying to turn vampires into crazed killers.”
Naturally Salvatore wasn’t satisfied.
“And?” he prodded.
“And the prophet had warned that Roke would be important to the future,” he muttered. He’d truly thought keeping Roke in his lair would protect him. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and vampires. “How the hell was I supposed to know Sally Grace was half-demon?”
Salvatore grimaced. “It must have been quite a shock to poor Roke to discover himself mated to witch.”
Styx’s humorless laugh echoed through the library at the memory of Roke’s fury.
“Shock isn’t the word I’d used.”
“She’s lucky he didn’t kill her on the spot.”
Frustration simmered deep inside Styx. Roke might be an arrogant pain-in-the-ass, but he was a brother. And more importantly, he was a clan chief who had a duty to his people. They had to find a way to break the mating.
And how to make damned sure it never happened again.
“He might have killed her if the magic she used didn’t feel as real as any true mating.”
Salvatore’s amusement faded. “That bad?”
“Worse.” Styx surged to his feet. “Without her knowing who or what fathered her, the witch doesn’t even know how to reverse the damage.”
“You’re certain this isn’t some trick?”
“I’m not certain of anything beyond the need to find a way to break the bond.”
Salvatore poured another shot of brandy. “Do you have a plan?”
Plan? Styx grimaced. The closest they’d had to a plan the past year had been to charge from one disaster to
Styx on the other hand, didn’t even try to appear civilized.
A six foot five Aztec warrior, he was wearing a pair of leather pants, heavy shit-kickers, and a white silk shirt that was stretched to the limit to cover his broad chest. His long black hair was braided to hang down to his waist and threaded with tiny turquoise amulets. And to complete the image, he had a huge sword strapped to his back.
What was the point in being a badass if you couldn’t look like one?
Setting aside his empty glass, Salvatore flashed a dazzling white smile. A sure sign he was about to be annoying.
“Let me see if I have this right,” the wolf drawled.
Yep. Annoying.
Styx narrowed his dark eyes, his features that were too stark for true beauty tight with warning.
“Do you have to?”
“Oh, yes.” The smile widened. “You asked the clan chief of Nevada to babysit a witch you had locked in your dungeons?”
Styx silently swore to have a chat with his mate once their guests were gone.
He hadn’t intended Salvatore to know that one of his most powerful vampires had been magically forced into a mating.
Hell, he’d had a hard enough time divulging the info with Jagr, his most trusted Raven. It was only because he needed the vampire to do research that he’d revealed the secret.
A mating was the rarest, most sacred, most intimate connection a demon could experience.
To think for a second that it could be inflicted on a vampire against his will was nothing less than...rape.
You didn’t reveal that kind of weakness to your enemies. Even if you did have a peace treaty.
Darcy, however, was a genuine optimist who blithely assumed that Salvatore would never abuse privileged information.
Now Styx was stuck revealing the truth to the mangy mutt.
“Sally Grace was not only a powerful witch who was capable of black magic, but she worshipped the Dark Lord,” he grudgingly explained, not about to admit that it had been more habit than fear that had led him to lock the female in his dungeons. Sally Grace was barely over five foot and weighed less than a hundred pounds. She hadn’t looked like a threat. And she probably wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t been so scared. “Of course I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
“Why Roke?”
Styx shrugged. “I was busy trying to deal with the ancient spirit that was trying to turn vampires into crazed killers.”
Naturally Salvatore wasn’t satisfied.
“And?” he prodded.
“And the prophet had warned that Roke would be important to the future,” he muttered. He’d truly thought keeping Roke in his lair would protect him. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and vampires. “How the hell was I supposed to know Sally Grace was half-demon?”
Salvatore grimaced. “It must have been quite a shock to poor Roke to discover himself mated to witch.”
Styx’s humorless laugh echoed through the library at the memory of Roke’s fury.
“Shock isn’t the word I’d used.”
“She’s lucky he didn’t kill her on the spot.”
Frustration simmered deep inside Styx. Roke might be an arrogant pain-in-the-ass, but he was a brother. And more importantly, he was a clan chief who had a duty to his people. They had to find a way to break the mating.
And how to make damned sure it never happened again.
“He might have killed her if the magic she used didn’t feel as real as any true mating.”
Salvatore’s amusement faded. “That bad?”
“Worse.” Styx surged to his feet. “Without her knowing who or what fathered her, the witch doesn’t even know how to reverse the damage.”
“You’re certain this isn’t some trick?”
“I’m not certain of anything beyond the need to find a way to break the bond.”
Salvatore poured another shot of brandy. “Do you have a plan?”
Plan? Styx grimaced. The closest they’d had to a plan the past year had been to charge from one disaster to
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