“I don’t sense anyone else.”
“Then let’s do this.” He moved to stand directly before the door, holding out a hand as Jaelyn stepped to stand at his side. “Wait.”
“A spell?”
“Yes.”
The sharp chill of her frustration filled the air. “I hate mages.”
He ran his hand over the door, testing the magic that kept it sealed shut.
“It’s one of defense, not offense.”
“Are you certain?”
“It’s either an alarm system or a curse. Difficult to say.” He stepped back, flashing a taunting smile toward his companion. “Ladies first.”
“That’s not funny.”
Pulling her away from the door, he led them toward the back garden.
“Trust me, poppet, I don’t intend to let anything happen to you,” he murmured, flashing a wicked smile. “At least not until I’ve had my fill.”
She bared her fangs. “Are you trying to make me kill you?”
A hot, urgent need hardened his cock. Shit, what was wrong with him?
For all he knew Jaelyn was just waiting for the opportunity to force him back to the Commission.
Or to rip out his throat.
But beneath her prickling aggression he could smell the sweet tang of her matching arousal, and the need to press her against the wet bricks and plunge deep into her body until they were both screaming with satisfaction was becoming an overwhelming compulsion.
“I just can’t seem to resist,” he confessed with a stark honesty that scared the hell out of him.
Caine’s private lair outside Chicago
Santiago stood outside the brick farmhouse with a grim expression.
He was an impressive sight with his black jeans that clung to a tight butt and long muscular legs and a black T-shirt that was stretched over his broad chest. His face was narrow with high cheekbones and his eyes the deep brown of his Spanish ancestors. He was exquisitely handsome with long, raven hair that was left to fall in a perfect curtain down his back.
But it took only a glance to know precisely what he was.
A trained vampire warrior who would kill without mercy.
Which might have explained why the coven of witches who’d been bustling about the cur’s lair for the past two nights had been torn between sexual fascination and abject terror when he strolled past.
That and the big-ass sword he had strapped to his back.
Santiago barely noticed the females as they chanted and brewed and lit their candles.
Like all vampires he detested magic.
Unfortunately, Styx had commanded that Santiago find his mate’s missing sister.
And when the Anasso commanded, a wise vampire obeyed.
Even if it meant calling upon the local coven to break through the layers of hexes, curses, and other nasty magical traps that had been laid around the farmhouse.
Of course, he hadn’t expected it to take the witches so long to breach the protective layers around the house, he acknowledged with a flare of impatience.
He’d been told the cur was paranoid. Hardly surprising considering the fact he’d made a deal with a zombie Were with ties to a demon lord. And now he had Cassandra to protect.
A true prophet.
The rarest creature to walk the earth.
It was a task he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
Still, Santiago was damned tired of waiting for the witches to do their mumbo-jumbo crap and get him inside.
As if on cue a tall, silver-haired woman dressed in a neat black skirt and white shirt warily approached him. She looked as if she should be handing out loans in a bank, not brewing potions as she waved her heavily jeweled hand toward the house.
“We’ve cleared a path to the door.”
Santiago studied the double line of candles that led from the hedges to the front door. Despite the late-summer breeze that stirred the night air the flames stood at stiff attention, not so much as flickering.
He grimaced.
Madre Dios. He hated magic.
“You’re certain it’s safe?”
“It should be so long as you remain between the candles.”
“And the house?”
She patted her neatly coiffed hair.
“Then let’s do this.” He moved to stand directly before the door, holding out a hand as Jaelyn stepped to stand at his side. “Wait.”
“A spell?”
“Yes.”
The sharp chill of her frustration filled the air. “I hate mages.”
He ran his hand over the door, testing the magic that kept it sealed shut.
“It’s one of defense, not offense.”
“Are you certain?”
“It’s either an alarm system or a curse. Difficult to say.” He stepped back, flashing a taunting smile toward his companion. “Ladies first.”
“That’s not funny.”
Pulling her away from the door, he led them toward the back garden.
“Trust me, poppet, I don’t intend to let anything happen to you,” he murmured, flashing a wicked smile. “At least not until I’ve had my fill.”
She bared her fangs. “Are you trying to make me kill you?”
A hot, urgent need hardened his cock. Shit, what was wrong with him?
For all he knew Jaelyn was just waiting for the opportunity to force him back to the Commission.
Or to rip out his throat.
But beneath her prickling aggression he could smell the sweet tang of her matching arousal, and the need to press her against the wet bricks and plunge deep into her body until they were both screaming with satisfaction was becoming an overwhelming compulsion.
“I just can’t seem to resist,” he confessed with a stark honesty that scared the hell out of him.
Caine’s private lair outside Chicago
Santiago stood outside the brick farmhouse with a grim expression.
He was an impressive sight with his black jeans that clung to a tight butt and long muscular legs and a black T-shirt that was stretched over his broad chest. His face was narrow with high cheekbones and his eyes the deep brown of his Spanish ancestors. He was exquisitely handsome with long, raven hair that was left to fall in a perfect curtain down his back.
But it took only a glance to know precisely what he was.
A trained vampire warrior who would kill without mercy.
Which might have explained why the coven of witches who’d been bustling about the cur’s lair for the past two nights had been torn between sexual fascination and abject terror when he strolled past.
That and the big-ass sword he had strapped to his back.
Santiago barely noticed the females as they chanted and brewed and lit their candles.
Like all vampires he detested magic.
Unfortunately, Styx had commanded that Santiago find his mate’s missing sister.
And when the Anasso commanded, a wise vampire obeyed.
Even if it meant calling upon the local coven to break through the layers of hexes, curses, and other nasty magical traps that had been laid around the farmhouse.
Of course, he hadn’t expected it to take the witches so long to breach the protective layers around the house, he acknowledged with a flare of impatience.
He’d been told the cur was paranoid. Hardly surprising considering the fact he’d made a deal with a zombie Were with ties to a demon lord. And now he had Cassandra to protect.
A true prophet.
The rarest creature to walk the earth.
It was a task he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
Still, Santiago was damned tired of waiting for the witches to do their mumbo-jumbo crap and get him inside.
As if on cue a tall, silver-haired woman dressed in a neat black skirt and white shirt warily approached him. She looked as if she should be handing out loans in a bank, not brewing potions as she waved her heavily jeweled hand toward the house.
“We’ve cleared a path to the door.”
Santiago studied the double line of candles that led from the hedges to the front door. Despite the late-summer breeze that stirred the night air the flames stood at stiff attention, not so much as flickering.
He grimaced.
Madre Dios. He hated magic.
“You’re certain it’s safe?”
“It should be so long as you remain between the candles.”
“And the house?”
She patted her neatly coiffed hair.
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