Hunt the Darkness(23)

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” he told the demon who’d been a constant pain in the ass over past three weeks.

Sally sent him a chiding frown. “Roke.”

Impervious as always to being insulted, Levet moved to take Sally’s hand.

“Au revoir, ma belle,” he murmured, kissing her fingers. “I suspect that our paths will cross again.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Roke growled, trembling as he watched the tiny demon waddle from the room.

Logically he understood the gargoyle was no threat.

Sally had no romantic interest in the aggravating pest.

But the mating wasn’t about logic.

It was about raw male possession that couldn’t bear to see another man near his woman.

Tossing the music box on the nearby bed, Roke prowled forward. He needed to touch his mate.

To replace the scent of another creature with his own.

Easily sensing his laser focus, Sally inched backward, not halting until she was flat against the wall.

“What are you doing?”

“All alone.” He halted a mere breath from her stiff body, his hands gently stroking over her shoulders and down her arms. “At last.”

“Roke.”

Lost in the heady scent of peaches and warm female desire, Roke almost missed the distant roar of an engine.

Then, realizing there could be only one explanation for the sound, he charged toward the window and threw open the shutters.

“Damn,” he hissed.

Sally was swiftly at his side. “What?”

“That winged lump of granite stole my bike.”

Chapter Four

Sally watched Roke pace the claustrophobic confines of her childhood bedroom. She shivered. He was like a caged panther.

One that could devour her in one vicious bite.

If she was smart she would keep her mouth shut and wait for an opportunity to once again escape.

But of course, she wasn’t that smart.

The impulse to needle the annoyed vampire was simply too irresistible.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset,” she said. “It was just a motorcycle.”

His pacing came to an abrupt halt, his expression one of horror.

“Just a motorcycle?” he growled in disbelief. “It was a custom-built, turbine motorcycle that cost half a million dollars.”

“A half a million?” She gave a choked cough. Sheesh. Being a vampire obviously paid better than being a witch. She had less than twenty bucks to her name. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”