“Sally Grace was not only a powerful witch who was capable of black magic, but she worshipped the Dark Lord,” he grudgingly explained, not about to admit that it had been more habit than fear that had led him to lock the female in his dungeons. Sally Grace was barely over five feet and weighed less than a hundred pounds. She hadn’t looked like a threat. And she probably wouldn’t have been if she hadn’t been so scared. “Of course I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
“Why Roke?”
Styx shrugged. “I was busy dealing with the ancient spirit that was trying to turn vampires into crazed killers.”
Naturally Salvatore wasn’t satisfied.
“And?” he prodded.
“And the prophet had warned that Roke would be important to the future,” he muttered. He’d truly thought keeping Roke in his lair would protect him. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and vampires. “How the hell was I supposed to know Sally Grace was half demon?”
Salvatore grimaced. “It must have been quite a shock to poor Roke to discover himself mated to a witch.”
Styx’s humorless laugh echoed through the library at the memory of Roke’s fury.
“Shock isn’t the word I’d used.”
“She’s lucky he didn’t kill her on the spot.”
Frustration simmered deep inside Styx. Roke might be an arrogant pain-in-the-ass, but he was a brother. And more importantly, he was a clan chief who had a duty to his people. They had to find a way to break the mating.
And how to make damned sure it never happened again.
“He might have killed her if the magic she used didn’t feel as real as any true mating.”
Salvatore’s amusement faded. “That bad?”
“Worse.” Styx surged to his feet. “Without her knowing who or what fathered her, the witch doesn’t even know how to reverse the damage.”
“You’re certain this isn’t some trick?”
“I’m not certain of anything beyond the need to find a way to break the bond.”
Salvatore poured another shot of brandy. “Do you have a plan?”
Plan? Styx grimaced. The closest they’d had to a plan the past year had been to charge from one disaster to another.
Why would this be any different?
“Sally left almost three weeks ago to search for any clues that would reveal who her father might be,” he said.
“And Roke?”
“He’s trying to catch her.”
Salvatore arched a brow. “You let him go alone?”
“Of course not.” A slow smile curved Styx’s lips. “I allowed Levet to go with him.”
Salvatore choked on his brandy at the mention of the tiny gargoyle who’d attached himself to both Darcy and Harley. Like a freaking barnacle that couldn’t be scraped off.
A three-foot pest with delicate fairy wings in shades of blue and crimson and gold, Levet could drive a sane man to gargoyle-cide in three seconds flat.
“You are a bad, bad vampire,” Salvatore murmured.
“I try.”
Chapter One