Bound By Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “No.” Her nails dug into his arm as she shook her head in denial. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Gently he extricated himself from her painful grip. He didn’t want to lose an arm when he confessed his plan.

  “I want to give my brothers the option to surrender.”

  There was a hint of fang as Jaelyn regarded him with a growing frustration. She better than anyone understood his uncompromising need to protect his tribe.

  “You think they will?” she slowly demanded.

  “Yes, if I can speak with them,” he said, recalling the conversation he’d overheard. “They’ve lost their belief in Tearloch’s cause, but they’re terrified of the wizard. They’ll join me if I can promise them a chance to escape as long as they aren’t being threatened by vampires.”

  “It’s still too dangerous,” she muttered.

  “They’re my tribe, my family.” He knew she could feel his grim determination. “I can’t abandon them to certain death.”

  Her hands clenched, as if she was considering the possibility of locking him in the cellar. Then, bending down, she snatched the silk shirt off the floor and shoved it into his hand.

  “I’ll speak with Styx.”

  He tugged on the shirt, more pissed by her words than the ridiculous garment.

  As if he needed to ask permission from a damned bloodsucker.

  “This is not his decision to make.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, we can all work together if no one tries to turn this into a pissing match.”

  “Tell that to your Anasso.”

  “I intend to.”

  He halted his attempt to button the shirt, lifting his head to meet her steady gaze.

  “You do?”

  “Of course.”

  Hmmm. His instincts prickled in warning.

  That had been way too easy.

  “And you aren’t going to fight me on my decision?”

  She averted her gaze, adjusting the shotgun strapped around her tiny waist.

  “I try not to ram my head into brick walls.”

  “Good.”

  “But ...”

  “Shit.” He shook his head. “I knew there was going to be a ‘but.’”

  “But, I doubt I can earn us more than a few minutes’ head start.” She ignored his complaint, her head lifting to meet his resigned gaze. “So you’d better locate your tribesmen and convince them quick.”

  His eyes narrowed in warning. “Us?”

  “I’m your mate.” She lifted her hand to poke him in the center of his chest. “My place is at your side. No matter where you go.”

  “You were just pointing out that it’s too dangerous,” he said between clenched teeth.

  “I also mentioned something about the futility of ramming your head into a brick wall.”

  “Dammit, Jaelyn.”

  “Come on, mate.” Turning, she headed out the door, ignoring Ariyal, who stomped behind her, blistering the air with his foul curses. “We don’t want to be late.”

  Jaelyn had always suspected that males were lacking the DNA sequence necessary for rational thought. Why else would they be so eager to thump their chests and flash their fangs instead of calmly discussing a problem?

  Now there was no doubt left.

  What the opposite sex needed was a good thumping, she acknowledged, watching as the six vampires deliberately circled Ariyal, their expressions ranging from mocking derision to outright hatred.

  She hadn’t expected the meeting to be pleasant.

  Or even polite.

  But did they have to start off by being as obnoxious as possible?

  The question had barely skimmed through her mind when Styx stepped forward, looking like a walking nightmare in black leather pants and black T-shirt that was stretched across his massive torso.

  “Nice shirt,” he drawled to Ariyal, fondling the hilt of his huge sword.

  Yep. As obnoxious as possible.

  “Styx,” she hissed, moving to stand at the side of her mate, who was already holding his bow and wooden arrows notched and ready to fire. “All we’re asking is a chance to convince Ariyal’s tribesmen to leave the caves before you enter.”

  The power of the Anasso was like a heavy throb in the air. “Why should I trust him?”

  “Because I said you could.” She stood her ground, acutely aware of Ariyal’s smoldering fury. Gods, please don’t let him do anything stupid. “Do you trust me?”

  Styx lifted a broad shoulder. “He’s your mate.”

  Her lips twisted. The vampires had sensed her mating with Ariyal the moment they’d approached the caves.

  Which had only added to the tension.

  “Yes, I know.”

  The large vampire shifted his attention back to the silent Ariyal.

  “Your loyalty now lies with the dark fairies.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  She barely had time to place herself between her mate and certain death, slamming her hands against his chest to hold him in place.

  “Ariyal, please.”

  “He can say whatever he wants about me.”

  “Thank you,” Styx drawled.

  Annoying SOB.

  “Shut up, leech,” Ariyal snarled, his gaze never leaving Jaelyn’s pleading expression. “But he’s not allowed to insult your honor.”

  Her heart melted, even as she wanted to slug him for his stubbornness.

  No one had ever defended her honor before.

  No one.

  “There’s no insult in wanting to know if I’m about to be led into a trap,” Styx said without apology.

  Ariyal placed his arm around Jaelyn’s shoulders and tucked her close to his side.

  “If you thought it was a trap then why the hell did you come?”

  “When the Hunter approached me she hadn’t yet bound herself to our enemy.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Jaelyn snapped. “He’s not our enemy. We all want the same thing.”

  “Do we?” Styx demanded, his power brushing over her as if seeking the truth of her heart.

  “Yes.”

  There was a short, tense silence as the Anasso continued to study her; then with a smooth lift of his hand he gestured for his vampires to step back.

  “You have fifteen minutes.”

  Jaelyn’s rush of relief was cut short by Ariyal’s typical male reaction.

  “You may be King of the Vampires, but you’re—”

  “Ariyal.” She stepped directly in front of her mate, framing his face in her hands. “If we haven’t convinced them to join us in fifteen minutes then we’ll already be captured or dead.”

  Simple and straight to the point.

  For once, it worked.

  Hallelujah.

  Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to draw in a calming breath and speak to the Anasso in a voice that wasn’t deliberately intended to provoke the vampire.

  “What’s your plan?”

  Styx slid his sword into the scabbard that ran the length of his back, his own expression altering to one of commanding efficiency.

  “I have three Ravens performing sweeps through a five-mile perimeter to make sure nothing is allowed to sneak up on us.”

  Ariyal tilted back his head, testing the air. “I smell Were.”

  Styx lifted a brow, as if caught off guard by Ariyal’s ability to detect the distant scent.

  “Salvatore is in the area searching for the curs who attacked you,” he admitted.

  Ariyal wasn’t pleased. “Will he be joining us in the caves?”

  “Not unless absolutely necessary.” Styx smiled without humor. “He was trapped down there not long ago. He’s in no hurry to repeat the performance.”

  Jaelyn briefly wondered if the Were was responsible for the damage in the lower levels. Well, the initial damage. Ariyal had done his own share.

  Then she was struck by a sudden thought.

  “Did you warn him that the cur is a magic-user?” Styx nodd
ed. “Yes, as well as the fact he’s traveling with what we suspect is a vampire that has unusual talents.”

  Jaelyn very much wondered about the strange vampire and exactly what Styx was hiding, but before she could press for an answer Ariyal was speaking.

  “You might also warn him that Sergei is still lurking around, along with that damned gargoyle.”

  There was a rustle from the trees that lined the nearby graveyard before the unmistakable scent of granite wafted on the air.

  “Hey,” Levet protested, waddling forward with a wounded expression. “I just rescued you from a fate worse than death.”

  “You rescued me?” Ariyal made a sound of disgust. “Don’t you have that backwards?”

  “Oh.” Levet blinked, coming to a halt next to Jaelyn. “Do I?”

  Ignoring the rueful amusement of the vampires, Ariyal glared at the tiny demon.

  “Where’s the mage?”

  Levet cleared his throat, his tail twitching. “He might have escaped.”

  “Might have?”

  “Very well, he escaped.” Levet’s wings fluttered in a shimmer of color. “Is that what you desired to hear?”

  “No, it’s damned well not what I wanted to hear.” Ariyal looked as if he could happily have turned the gargoyle into a teeny pile of rubble. “I specifically told you to keep an eye on him.”

  “I could hardly keep an eye on him when it was daylight, could I? Gargoyles have needs.” With an offended sniff, Levet turned to offer Jaelyn a charming smile. “Ah, ma enfant, I see that you are unharmed. I was so concerned.”

  “Not now, Levet,” Styx growled.

  Levet blew a raspberry toward the towering vampire, but with an impatient curse Ariyal leaned down to grab the gargoyle by the horn and turn him back to meet his fierce glare.

  “Did you try to track the mage?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “And?”

  “And he must have an amulet to mask his scent.”

  Ariyal hissed in frustration. “So you have no idea where he went?”

  Levet wisely stepped out of reach of the Sylvermyst, waving a hand toward the entrance to the caves.

  “His footsteps led in this direction.”

  “Shit.” Ariyal sprinted toward the caves. “The baby.”

  “Wait.” Styx muttered a curse when Ariyal ignored his command. “Fifteen minutes, Sylvermyst.”

  Jaelyn was swiftly following Ariyal as he darted into the caverns and headed down the nearest tunnel. She understood his concern. If the mage actually managed to get his greedy hands on the child and escape they might never track him down.

  At least not until it was too late.

  And if he screwed up and got caught then the wizard and Tearloch would be on guard, making it almost impossible to locate Ariyal’s tribesmen without attracting unwanted attention.

  They had reached the lower levels of the caverns when Ariyal came to a sudden halt, turning to face her.

  Jaelyn frowned, her senses on full alert. “What is it? Do you sense something?”

  The bronze eyes shimmered with an emotion that seared her to the tip of her toes.

  “You’re my heart and my soul,” he breathed.

  “As you are mine.” She lifted herself on tiptoe to press a tender kiss to his lips. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

  He wrapped her in his fragrant heat. “Together.”

  Chapter 20

  Tearloch leaned over the pool of water where Rafael had scryed the image of a half-dozen vampires currently hovering near the entrance to the caverns.

  No, not just vampires, he silently corrected, a sick sensation twisting his gut into knots. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the towering Aztec and the lethal predators that stood at his side.

  The Anasso and his Ravens.

  “God dammit,” he breathed. “I told you that you were wasting too much time.”

  The wizard ignored Tearloch’s complaints, waving his hand over the water to zoom in on a vampire with dark hair and silver eyes who looked like a pirate with a bad attitude.

  “Dante, how exquisitely appropriate,” Rafael murmured, a disturbing smile curving his lips.

  “You know the vampire?”

  “He was responsible for my death.” An eerie chuckle filled the cavern. “Now I intend to return the favor.”

  Tearloch clenched his hands, the sharp burst of fear slicing through the cobwebs in his mind.

  “Are you insane?” he demanded. “We have to get out of here before we’re trapped.”

  Rafael clicked his tongue in resigned disappointment. “You are always in such a hurry to run, Tearloch.”

  “Being intelligent enough to realize when I’m outnumbered has kept me alive,” Tearloch pointed out, his hands clenching at the sneer curving the wizard’s lips. “Obviously it’s a lesson you failed to learn.”

  The red flames flared in the spirit’s eyes, the stench of the grave filling the cavern.

  “Our master has no place at his side for cowards.”

  Tearloch pointed toward the images reflected in the water. “You truly think you can defeat a half-dozen vampires?”

  “We will be invincible once we have resurrected the Dark Lord.”

  It was a promise that had been whispering in the back of Tearloch’s mind since leaving Avalon. Now, however, the seductive promise was more than a little tarnished.

  “Then why didn’t you perform the ceremony when you had the chance?” he accused the worthless wizard. “Now it’s too late.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  “No? Your precious altar is buried deeper than ever thanks to Ariyal.”

  Rafael’s gaunt face tightened with remembered fury. “Yes, he will pay for that, but for now we shall have to create a new altar.”

  Tearloch scowled at the smooth words. A new altar? After they’d wasted days trying to unblock the destroyed tunnels?

  “If that was one of our options then why the hell did you waste our time trying to dig out the old one?”

  “Because I assumed you would disapprove of my methods.”

  “Why would I disapprove?”

  Rafael waved a bony hand. “You seem to be rather attached to your tribesmen.”

  Was that supposed to be a joke?

  “What do my tribesmen have to do with your altar?”

  “You are not stupid, Tearloch.” Without warning the spirit moved to stand next to the child, who was cradled on a flat rock in the center of the cavern. The dark robes flowed around his skeletal frame as he bent down to study the babe, who remained locked in a deep sleep. “The Dark Lord demands a sacrifice. The altar must flow with blood.”

  Shock blasted through Tearloch at the unemotional pronouncement that he would have to watch his brothers being slaughtered like helpless lambs.

  But why?

  He’d known from the moment he’d conjured Rafael that he was an immoral bastard who would willingly destroy the world to sate his lust for power.

  What was a little thing like murdering an entire tribe?

  The knotted muscle of his jaw made it almost impossible to speak.

  “ No.”

  “Yes.” Rafael stabbed him with a ruthless glare. “There is no other means.”

  “You treacherous snake.” Tearloch instinctively backed away, having a dim recollection of Ariyal’s warnings. Why hadn’t he listened to his prince instead of allowing himself to be swayed by the voices that filled his mind with confusion? “This has been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”

  The wizard straightened, his hand toying with the pendant around his neck.

  “Plan?”

  Tearloch bumped into the far wall, his stomach cramping with horror.

  “Gods, I’ve been so blind. You deliberately lured me and my brothers to these caves.”

  “Do not be an idiot,” Rafael snapped.

  “You’re right to fear the wizard,” a voice assured him and Tearloch turned to watch as Sergei stepped i
nto the cavern looking considerably worse for the wear with his silver hair tangled and his once-exquisite suit torn and filthy. But there was an arrogant confidence on his slender face as he moved to stand at Tearloch’s side. “I did warn you, if you will recall.”

  “Mage.” Rafael made the word sound like a curse. “I should have known you would turn up like the proverbial bad penny.”

  Sergei never allowed his attention to waver from Tearloch, a frantic gleam in his pale eyes.

  “Listen to me, Sylvermyst. The spirit can’t be trusted.”

  “And I suppose you are prepared to swear that your motives are purely honorable?” Rafael mocked.

  The mage shrugged, still keeping his attention locked on Tearloch.

  “I’ve never hidden my ambitions, but my plans to resurrect the master have never included slaughtering my allies.”

  There was a low hiss from the wizard, his power swirling through the air and seeping through Tearloch’s mind, trying to confuse him with that terrifying fog.

  “That is because you do not possess the skills or the power needed for the ceremony,” Rafael said in a low, singsong voice that sought to entrap the listener. “You may be capable of bluffing the gullible, but I am not so easily fooled. Nor is Tearloch.”

  Sergei grasped Tearloch’s arm, sending a prickle of magic over his skin, no doubt in an attempt to counter Rafael’s spell.

  “You know nothing, wizard.” Sergei’s fingers dug into Tearloch’s arm. “My powers are greater than you could ever imagine.”

  Rafael’s derisive laughter bounced off the smooth walls. “No, you are the one who must imagine them because they do not exist except in your fantasies.”

  The mage whirled toward the taunting wizard, his face red with fury.

  “Shall I prove how wrong you are?”

  Tearloch shook his head, wondering if he was the one who was insane.

  “We’re about to be massacred by vampires and you two want to waste time measuring your magical dicks?” he rasped.

  Rafael waved his too-thin hand, something that might have been frustration burning in his pitiless eyes.

  “I want you to realize that the mage cannot fulfill the promises he made to you.”

  Tearloch snorted. “Right now all I care about is getting the hell out of here.”