Thankfully, Jaelyn had managed to drain the Dark Lord before he could pass through the Veil, but Styx knew it was only a temporary reprieve.
Until the Dark Lord was destroyed, there would be no peace.
Which was why he was standing in the middle of the desert with a pissed-off Viper instead of waking in the arms of his beautiful mate.
“You’re becoming as soft as a dew fairy in your old age,” he mocked.
“I didn’t become clan chief to rut in the dirt like some animal.”
“Pathetic.”
Viper glanced toward the distant glow of lights. “Are you at least going to tell me why we couldn’t stay in one of the hundreds of hotels just a few miles away?”
Styx turned to scan the seemingly empty landscape. Not that it was truly empty. At his feet a lizard crawled over a rock oblivious to the owl hunting in silence overhead, or the snake that was coiled only a few feet away. More distantly a coyote was on the trail of a jackrabbit.
The typical sights and sounds of the desert. His only interest, however, was making sure there were no nasty surprises hidden in the shadows.
“I prefer not to attract unwanted attention to our presence in Nevada,” he explained. “Something that would be impossible with you in a casino.”
“All I want is a warm shower, fresh clothes, and a ticket to the Donnie and Marie show.”
“Do I have stupid tattooed on my forehead?” Styx turned to stab his friend with a knowing gaze. “The last time you were in Vegas you nearly bankrupted the Flamingo and ended up banned from returning to the city by the clan chief.”
A reminiscent smile tugged at Viper’s lips. “Can I help it if I had a streak of luck at the craps table? Or that Roke is a humorless prig?”
The distant hum of a motorcycle sliced through the thick night air. “Speaking of Roke,” Styx murmured.
Viper muttered a curse as he moved to stand at Styx’s side. “That’s who we’re meeting with?”
“Yes.” Styx narrowed his gaze. “Do you promise to behave?”
“No, but I promise I won’t kill him unless he—”
“Viper.”
“Shit.” Viper folded his arms over his chest. “This had better be important.”
“Would I have left Darcy if it weren’t?” he demanded, the mere mention of his mate sending a tiny pang of longing through his heart. Over the past months the beautiful female Were had become his very reason for living.
With a throaty roar of power, Roke brought his turbine to a halt and, sliding off the elegant machine, he crossed to stand before them.
Dressed in black jeans, a leather jacket, and moccasin boots that reached his knees, he was not as tall as Styx, although they shared the same bronzed skin and dark hair that brushed his broad shoulders. His features were lean with the high cheekbones of his Native American bloodlines and a proud nose. His brow was wide and his lips generously full. But it was his eyes that captured and held attention.
Silver in color, they were so pale they appeared almost white, the shocking paleness emphasized by the rim of pure black that circled them. They were eyes that seemed to pierce through a person to lay bare their very soul.
Not always the most comfortable sensation.
Especially for those who didn’t particularly want their soul laid bare.
Which was . . . yeah, pretty much everyone.
“Styx.” Offering a low bow, Roke’s movements were liquid smooth as he slowly straightened and with stunning swiftness hurled a dagger to stick in the ground not an inch from Viper’s expensive leather shoes. “Viper.”
Viper growled, giving a wave of his hand to dislodge the dirt around Roke’s feet. All vampires could manipulate the soil, a necessary skill to protect them from the sun or to hide the corpses of their prey, but Viper was particularly skilled, and in less than a blink of an eye, Roke was buried up to his waist.
“Are you two done playing?” Styx demanded, his icy power biting through the air.
The clan chief of Nevada climbed out of the sandpit and dusted off his jeans, his expression as inscrutable as ever. “For now.”