“Who?” Rimm demanded.
Riven’s eyes darted around as he sought a reasonable lie. “Princess Sabrina,” he at last announced. “She must have brought the ogress here.”
The guard appeared shocked by the suggestion. “Princess Sabrina?”
Riven waved his hand in a dismissive motion. “Everyone knows she’s been strangely secretive. I don’t think she’s recovered from her father’s death. Maybe she’s even gone insane with grief.”
There was a mounting tension in the air. Like the static energy before a storm. All they needed was a lightning strike to release the tempest.
Inga smiled. “Let’s go ask her.”
Her words sizzled through the air, sending off the bolts of electricity she’d hoped to achieve.
Riven stiffened. “No.”
“Why not?” Inga pressed. “Because she isn’t in the castle?”
“How did you—” Riven bit off his revealing words, glancing toward his guard. “If you won’t do your job, I will.”
Taking a step forward, Riven pointed the Tryshu directly at Inga’s heart. Refusing to cower, Inga stood her ground. If she was going to die, at least she would be on her feet.
“I don’t fear you,” she lied in a thankfully steady voice.
“I knew you were a fool,” Riven sneered.
Barely knowing what she was doing, Inga lifted her hand. Not in a plea, but more of a gesture of defiance. The last thing she expected was for Riven to release a cry of alarm. With a frown, Inga glanced toward her hand. Had she released a spell without knowing what she was doing? Adrenaline could do crazy things.
But there was nothing.
Continuing to stare at her hand in confusion, she failed to notice the massive trident flying through the air. Not until the handle hit her palm with enough force to send her reeling back.
Instinctively her fingers curled around the smooth wood, belatedly realizing she was holding Riven’s weapon.
The king glared at her in dismay. “What have you done?”
Inga blinked. Why was he asking her? She didn’t have a clue what was going on.
* * * *
Waverly sighed, snuggling against Tarak’s naked body. She should have been worried. Hell, she should have been out of her mind with fear.
Not only was she trapped in a prison she had no idea how to get out of, but Riven was leading her people into disaster. Plus her sister was as stuck as she was, endangering the mer-babies.
At the moment, however, she didn’t want to dwell on the awful things in her life. She’d been doing that for far too long.
Instead she just wanted a few hours to appreciate being newly mated.
Tracing the dragon shimmering on Tarak’s chest with the tips of her fingers, she relished the feel of him trembling beneath her touch.
“Tell me about the future,” she commanded.
He studied her with his dark, sexy eyes. “You mean our future together?”
“Yes.”
He turned his head to brush his lips over her forehead. “Once we escape this prison we will find a secluded island where you can swim in the ocean and…” He gave a lift of his brows as she burst out in laughter. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m trying to imagine you enjoying a sun-drenched, exotic island. Surf and turf and vampires just don’t go together.”
His lips stroked down the length of nose. “As long as you’re there it will be paradise.”
Waverly heaved a sigh of sheer contentment. “You say such pretty things.”
“It’s the truth,” he assured her, his hands exploring the curve of her back. “I have devoted my life to protecting my clan and then to creating peace for the vampires.”
“Worthy goals.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps, but none of them could match the sheer pleasure of watching you smile.”
A warm, gooey heat slid through her. How had she ever been so lucky as to capture this magnificent male?
“A private island sounds lovely,” she murmured. “A shame we couldn’t stay there forever.”
“Why couldn’t we?”
“You’d get bored.”
He lowered his hands to cup her butt in a firm grip. “Never.”
She shivered as desire shuddered through her. How was it even possible? She should be exhausted.
Maybe her perpetual lust had something to do with the fact they were so recently mated? No. It was a predictable female response to a gorgeous, wickedly charming male who was pressing her tight against his hard body.
“Plus we both have an obligation to our people,” she said, having difficulty forming the words.
He scraped the tip of his fang along her jaw. “I have done my duty to the vampires, but if you feel the need to help the mer-folk until a new king is chosen, I will stand at your side.”
Waverly wrapped her arms around his neck, not doubting for a second that he would be her steadfast partner no matter where she decided to go. Or what she decided to do.
The knowledge was nestled in her heart like a precious treasure.
“You are an amazing demon,” she whispered.
He chuckled, nuzzling kisses over her face. “I can show you just how amazing I truly am.”
“I think you’ve shown me,” she teased even as she looped her leg over his hip in silent invitation. “More than once.”
“Well you know what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“Practice makes perfect.”
“Do they?” She tangled her fingers in his hair, lost in the sensations swirling and eddying through her. They were intense enough that it took her a few seconds to realize that the tremors shaking through her were coming from the stone floor. “Tarak, what’s happening?”
He pulled back, his expression wary. “I think the prison is collapsing.”
“It has to be Riven,” she breathed.
Together they surged to their feet, both scrambling to pull on their clothes as the quaking intensified.
Once they were dressed, Tarak wrapped her in his arms, his fangs bared as they struggled to remain upright.
“He’s either trying to kill us, or something’s happening to disrupt his magic.”
Waverly frowned. “Why would Riven want us dead after he went to such trouble to imprison us? After all, he still needs your power to…” Her words trailed away as she was struck by a sudden thought. “The Tryshu.”
He gazed down at her. “What about it?”
“It’s trying to reject him,” she rasped. “He’s so busy trying to maintain his grip on the ancient weapon that his other magic is faltering.”
A cold, lethal smile curved Tarak’s lips. The sight of it sent a chill of unease down her spine.
“If the prison collapses, I need you to help me,” he said.
She eyed him warily. “What do you want?”
“I want you to create a portal to the castle.”
Oh. She studied him in confusion. Did he think she intended to take them to the deserted island before she’d ensured that Riven was dead?
“That’s what I intended to do,” she assured him.
“But I want you to wait for me in the cavern—”
“No,” she interrupted.
Tarak scowled in frustration. “Waverly, we don’t know what’s happening.”
That was his argument? She rolled her eyes. “Which is why you’re not going there alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’ll track down Riven, kill him, and return before you even know I’m gone.”
She pulled away, eying him with a narrowed gaze. “It’s not happening.”
There was a violent shake of the prison. The stone around them didn’t crack or shatter, but a strange warping effect rippled over the walls. Proof that the prison was mad
e of magic, not granite.
“Waverly, please,” he growled.
“No.” She adamantly shook her head. “I have suffered just as much as you have.”
His eyes darkened with regret at the raw edge in her voice. “I know that.”
“I’ve earned my right to be there when Riven dies.”
His jaw clenched. He couldn’t argue with her logic. Still, his hand lifted to gently cup her cheek in his palm.
“If I fail and Riven survives, he’ll make sure you’re punished.”
She held his gaze. “Then don’t fail.”
Before he could respond, the floor shuddered and lurched. Then, with the sound of a crashing wave, a darkness swept over them. It was like being pulled through a portal, only with a speed that made Waverly’s head spin.
“Hold on.” Tarak grabbed her hand as they tumbled through a vast emptiness.
Waverly clung tightly to Tarak’s fingers, gritting her teeth as they plummeted at an increasing speed. Eventually they were going to hit, and it wasn’t going to be fun.
She was right.
Thud. They crashed onto a stone floor with a jarring impact. Waverly grunted in pain as the air was knocked from her lungs. Lying flat on her back, it took her a minute to realize they’d returned to the cavern near the witch’s hotel.
Not surprising. It was no doubt the spot where the original spell had been cast for the prison.
“Ow,” she muttered, grimly picking herself up off the ground.
Naturally, Tarak was standing at her side with one fluid motion. Not even a hair was out of place. She shook her head. She used to think she was graceful, but next to Tarak she was as clumsy as a baby kraken.
“Are you alright?” he asked, eyeing her with a worried expression.
She grimaced. Everything hurt, but she wasn’t going to tell Tarak. He was just looking for some excuse to keep her away from Riven.
“A couple of bruises,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
He thinned his lips, reminding her that she couldn’t lie to him. Not anymore. But before he could try to browbeat her into remaining in the cavern, Tarak was tugging her behind him.
“Stay back,” he called out, his icy power swirling through the air.
A matching power blasted around them, forming a layer of frost on the walls. There was a crunch of heavy footsteps and then a gigantic male dressed in black leather stepped out of a side tunnel.
Waverly widened her eyes. Wow. The male was massive, with dark hair and stark features. But it was his eyes that made Waverly shiver. They sizzled with a power that was almost tangible.
“Easy, Tarak,” the vampire murmured, lifting his hands in a gesture of peace.
Waverly felt Tarak stiffen in shock. “Styx?”
Chapter 19
Tarak studied the male he hadn’t seen in five centuries. Long ago they’d been like brothers. Styx had been as devoted to the previous Anasso as Tarak had been. And just as unwilling to believe that their master could be deceiving them.
At some point he intended to sit down with Styx and demand to know how the previous Anasso had died and how Styx had claimed his title as King of the Vampires.
But not now.
“Thank the gods,” Styx muttered.
Tarak held tight to Waverly’s arm, baring his fangs at the intruder. It had nothing to do with the past. This was a primal need to keep the male from his mate. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.
Styx was careful not to glance toward Waverly who was peeking over Tarak’s shoulder. “Looking for you.”
Tarak arched a brow. How could Styx know where he would be? Unless…
No, he didn’t believe the male would be working with Riven. Styx was many things. Stubborn. Grim. And lethal. But he possessed a fierce sense of honor.
“Did Chiron ask for your help?” he finally demanded.
Styx nodded. “He contacted me after he’d released you from your prison. Welcome home, my brother.”
Styx moved forward, as if he was going to clasp Tarak’s hand, but Tarak flashed his fangs in warning. “Stay back.”
Waverly made a sound of shock. “Tarak.”
“It’s okay,” Styx said, taking a deliberate step backward. “I recognize a newly mated male.” He paused, studying Tarak with a wary gaze. “Can we talk?”
“Not now.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Waverly, we need a portal.”
“I need to speak with you,” Styx insisted.
Tarak didn’t answer. He was concentrating on Waverly as she lifted her arm. He couldn’t see the portal, but he assumed it was forming.
Waverly’s hand was still moving in a circle when there was the pitter-patter of tiny feet echoing from the same tunnel where Styx had recently appeared.
Tarak scowled. This place was as busy as Grand Central Station. Turning his head, he watched the miniature gargoyle with fairy wings and the tall, crimson-haired imp wearing some sort of stretchy orange pants and a shirt made of fishnet stroll into the cavern.
His brows lifted. Well. That was something you didn’t see every day.
“Voila!” the gargoyle announced in a voice that was lightly accented. “I have returned along with Troy.”
Tarak had seen the gargoyle before. He’d been traveling with the ogress. But the imp was new.
“Prince of Imps,” Troy corrected, glancing toward Styx. “He promised me a reward. I trust you will make this worth my time?”
Styx released a low growl. “I’ll let you live. How about that as a reward?”
Tarak snorted. Styx hadn’t changed.
The imp gave a toss of his long hair that shimmered like fire. “I hate vampires,” he muttered.
“Right? They are the worst,” the gargoyle agreed, his wings fluttering. “Well, perhaps dragons are worse.” There was a short pause. “And sardines.”
“Sardines?” the imp demanded in confusion.
The gargoyle wrinkled his snout. “They give me a rash.”
Tarak sent Styx a quizzical glance. “You have picked up some strange friends.”
Styx grimaced. “They’re not my friends.”
Tarak felt Waverly lightly touch his arm. “The portal is open,” she told him.
Tarak turned toward her. “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” the gargoyle called out. “Does it lead to the castle?”
“Tarak,” Styx said, his tone commanding.
Tarak waved them all away. “Later.”
“I am coming with you,” the gargoyle said, his claws scraping against the stone floor as he hurried toward them.
“Dammit. So am I,” Styx growled, pointing a finger toward Troy. “Stay here in case we need you to open a portal,” he ordered the imp.
“How will I know?” Troy demanded, his expression annoyed as Styx moved toward Tarak. “How will I know?”
No one answered as Waverly led them through the invisible opening. Darkness swirled around Tarak as he stepped forward.
“Christ, we didn’t need a parade,” he muttered, although he hadn’t made any effort to keep the gargoyle and Styx from following them.
Since Waverly was too stubborn to stay away from Riven, he was happy to have an extra sword to protect her. And there was no greater sword than the one strapped across Styx’s back. Tarak had once seen the male chop a troll in half with one swing of the massive blade.
They moved quickly through the portal, stepping into a wide, marble hallway lined with fluted columns.
Styx reached over his back to pull free his sword. “This is the mer-folk lair?” he demanded.
“Yes,” Tarak said in absent tones. He’d just caught a familiar scent. “I smell Riven.”
“Where?” Waverly demanded.
Tarak nodded toward an arched opening. “That way.”
“The throne room,” Waverly said, her face pale but resolute.
“Inga is there as well,” the tiny gargoyle announced, scuttling down the hall with his tail wiggling behind him.
Damn. The stupid creature was going to attract the attention of the guards.
“Stop,” he growled.
Styx reached out to grasp Tarak’s shoulder before he could take off after the gargoyle. “No, let him go,” the ancient vampire said. “I’ve learned it’s best to be far away from whatever disaster Levet is certain to cause.”
Tarak sent his onetime clansman an annoyed glare. “I thought you said he wasn’t your friend?”
“My mate is fond of him,” Styx muttered, his gaze on the gargoyle who was disappearing through the opening.
“Mate?” Tarak asked in surprise. He couldn’t imagine any female being able to reach the aloof male.
“Darcy.” Styx’s features softened, revealing a side of the vampire that Tarak would have sworn didn’t exist. “She’s a pureblood Were.”
Tarak’s eyes widened. He hadn’t spent much time with Weres, but he’d heard they were nasty, feral creatures who would bite first and ask questions later. “That must be…interesting.”
Styx gave a sharp laugh. “You have no idea.”
Tarak paused, his gaze taking in the male who’d stood at his side during endless battles. “How long have you known?” he abruptly demanded.
Styx knew immediately what Tarak was asking. “I discovered the scroll that revealed you had been imprisoned two weeks ago. I had no idea, I swear,” he said in harsh tones.
Tarak gave a slow nod. He wasn’t completely willing to forgive and forget the past. But for now it was enough to know that Styx hadn’t known he’d been betrayed by the old Anasso.
“Okay.”
A smile of relief curved Styx’s lips. “Are we here to kill something?”
“Yes, but first I need to destroy the amulet that Riven is using to tap into my powers,” Tarak told him.
Styx nodded. “Where is it?”
It was Waverly who answered. “This way.”
She turned and hurried down the hallway, Tarak quickly moving to take the lead. It wasn’t that he doubted her ability to kick ass when she wanted, but she felt an overwhelming duty toward her people. She would hesitate to strike a killing blow, even if she was in danger.
Beware the Darkness Page 20
