“Then you have nothing to lose in coming to Nevada with me.”
She looked less than impressed by his logic.
“The last time I trusted the word of a vampire I ended up in the dungeons.”
Thanks a butt-load, Styx, he silently chastised his king.
The Anasso’s decision to toss Sally in his formidable prison had made certain she had a perfectly legitimate excuse not to trust the vampires.
“I live in the middle of the desert.” He offered a teasing smile. “My only dungeon is a nearby gold mine. You could strike it rich while you were down there.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
Roke took a cautious step forward. She was twitchy enough to bolt if he wasn’t careful.
“What are you afraid of, Sally?”
She scowled at the soft question. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
He shook his head, his fingers lifting to press against the pulse thundering at the base of her throat.
“You know better than to try and lie to a vampire. Even if I wasn’t bonded to you I could detect the increased beat of your heart and catch the scent of adrenaline.” His fingers lightly traced the faint shadow of her jugular vein, his fangs aching for a taste. “Of course, I could be mistaken.”
“You mistaken?” she tried to mock. “Shocking.”
He cupped the side of her face, the satin heat of her skin against his palm a sensation he could easily become addicted to.
“It could be lust,” he murmured, his gaze lowering to the sensual curve of her lips. “And I know the perfect remedy.”
“Fine.” She pulled away from his touch, but not before Roke caught the intoxicating scent of her arousal. “Vampires hate witches.”
With an effort, Roke allowed her to retreat. It was so very tempting to haul her into his arms and seduce her into soft, melting compliance.
It might even work for a few hours.
But he wasn’t so vain as to think that getting her into bed would earn her trust.
Hell, she’d probably use it as another reason to push him away.
“How many times do I have to promise I will do whatever necessary to keep you safe?” he instead asked, holding her wary gaze.
“From your own clan?”
“So long as you’re under my protection they wouldn’t dare hurt you.”
“Even if they believe I have you trapped in a spell? Come on, Roke.” She shuddered, as if imagining the horror of being ravaged by crazed vampires. “They would kill me in a heartbeat if they thought it was for your own good.”
His lips parted only to snap shut.
Shit.
She had a point.
His clan had spent far too long beneath the rule of a chief who’d been more concerned with pleasing his demanding mate than caring for his people. For over a century they’d floundered, so weakened that they’d nearly lost everything before Roke had traveled to the battles of Durotriges to earn the right to become a chief.
That’s why he’d been so infuriated by the magical bonding. He’d already made the decision that his mate would be a rational, loyal female who would dedicate herself to the good of his people.
And why his clan was unreasonably overprotective of him.