Her fingers tightened. She was not pleased that Kata had outmaneuvered her. Again.
She dare not allow the little bitch to awaken, and yet she could not simply allow her to die.
Not when there was still the possibility that Marika could rule the world.
“Careful, Sergei, you’re not the only mage in London,” she said in a frigid warning.
“You can’t mean Lord Hawthorne?” Sergei’s expression twisted with a jealous hatred of the rival mage. “The man’s a third rate magician who hasn’t been worth a damn since he lost his imp apprentice.”
“He would serve my purpose.”
The pale eyes flashed with annoyance at her mocking taunt.
“Yes, but could he serve you?” he hit back, his insolent gaze running a path down her curves exposed by the thin material of her gown. “You’re a demanding mistress, Marika.”
It was a valid point. Few men survived a night in her arms. Not that they complained. Most of them died with a smile on their face.
But she had reached the end of her short patience. Her fingers squeezed until they were a breath from crushing his larynx.
“Find out what’s bothering my twin and find out quickly.” He hissed in pain. “Without delay.”
Tane was a vampire feared throughout the demon world.
Rooms emptied when he entered. Clan chiefs barricaded themselves in their lairs when he approached their territories. His name was used to terrify foundlings.
He was the vampire that even vampires feared.
With good reason.
Which put him at the very top of the food chain.
A pity all his power and props were worth jack shit in the cold, clinging mists.
Silently cursing the strange surroundings, he followed Laylah through the thick fog, her arms still filled with the unconscious gargoyle.
He’d devoted grim centuries to ensuring he would never again feel like an impotent bystander, no matter what the situation. He was a take charge kind of vamp and his ruthless power made certain no one questioned his authority.
Now a pint-sized mongrel had managed to drag him into this damned maze of endless fog, stirring ancient sensations he’d buried along with his massacred clan.
“How do you know where you’re going?” he demanded.
She tossed a mocking glance over her shoulder. “I just fumble around until I find the place I want.”
He growled low in his throat. “Laylah.”
With a sigh she returned her attention to the dense mist spread before them, walking with a confidence that set Tane’s teeth on edge.
It was bad enough to be stuck in the bizarro place without being able to see if there were any dangers lurking nearby.
“What do you want me to say?” she rasped. “It’s not something I can explain. I think of the location I want to go and start walking. Eventually I sense that I’m there.”
He grimaced. It wasn’t exactly an explanation that offered comfort.
But then again, would anything offer comfort at this point?
What the hell had he been thinking when he’d tried to stop Laylah from disappearing?
He always allowed his warrior’s instinct to guide him. It was the only way to survive for nearly a thousand years. So why hadn’t his instinct warned him to allow Laylah to escape with a wave of his hand and a pat on his back for being rid of the nagging, ill-tempered female?