Bound By Darkness Page 0,100

swiftly down the staircase. Lust with a capital L.

Anything else would be ... nuts.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Nefri led him through the vaulted chamber with Greek gods painted on the ceiling and a fountain with a black marble statue of Poseidon in the center. He caught the musty scent of ancient books from a nearby library and the tantalizing perfume of orchids from the bathhouse, but Nefri moved toward a corridor that led away from the public rooms to what he assumed must be the living quarters.

And still she continued forward, turning into hallways that grew progressively more barren and dangerously narrow.

At last she came to a halt in front of a door, pausing with obvious reluctance before shoving it open and allowing him to step over the threshold.

Not burdened with pesky scruples, Santiago moved to the center of the room, inspecting the narrow cot and plain wooden trunk shoved in one corner with a growing sense of puzzlement.

Mierda.

It was like a monk’s cell with its unadorned stone walls and stark lack of personal possessions. There wasn’t even a rug to warm the marble floor.

“Bleak,” he muttered.

“Gaius has never revealed a desire for material possessions,” Nefri pointed out, although he sensed she was as startled as he was by their stark surroundings.

“No, he always preferred function over fashion,” Santiago agreed. The older vampire had often teased Santiago on his love for luxury, claiming that Santiago’s lair was more suitable for a pampered human than a dangerous predator. Grimly he shoved away the memory, reminding himself that the vampire he had once loved and respected had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. “But he used to enjoy the basic comforts,” he continued through gritted teeth.

“We all change over the years.”

He snorted at soft words. “Evolve to higher beings, you mean?”

Her lips tightened, but predictably she refused to rise to the bait.

“For a rare few. Most of us merely do the best we can to survive.”

“Very deep, dulcita,” he muttered, moving to pull open the closet door.

“Some truths are simple.”

“If you say ...” Flicking through the dozen robes hung in a neat row, Santiago’s words were forgotten as he caught sight of a small box set on the narrow shelf at the back.

With a hand that wasn’t quite steady, he grabbed the ornately carved object, an emotion he refused to acknowledge clenching his heart.

There was a wash of cool power and the scent of exotic woman as Nefri moved to stand at his side, her serene presence offering a surprising balm to the tumultuous feelings that threatened to consume him.

“What is it?”

He held up the wooden box that was well worn from fingers that had lovingly traced the intricate patterns over the years.

“I carved this for Gaius just days before he left,” he said, his voice thick.

He didn’t add that sculpting the box had his been his means to mourn the brutal loss of Gaius’s mate. He had poured his grief into each tiny engraving, attempting to capture the beauty she had added to his life.

“He obviously has treasured it,” she said gently.

Why?

Why would Gaius have taken such care of this gift and at the same time dismiss the son who had created it for him?

With a shake of his head, Santiago opened the box, his brows lifting at the sight of a heavy, old-fashioned key that was hidden inside.

“Now I wonder what this might open.”

“I haven’t the least notion.”

Tossing the box onto the cot, Santiago began searching for a hidden door. If there was a key, there had to be a lock, didn’t there?

Finding nothing in the closet, he searched the floor and then moved to the walls, his hands skimming over the smooth marble.

At last forced to accept he was at a stalemate, he turned his attention to the beautiful woman standing near the door, watching him with obvious displeasure.

So what was new?

“A little help?”

Her lips thinned. “I do not approve of invading another’s privacy.”

“No?” He shifted to stand directly before her, his expression hard with warning. “Do you approve of the end of the world?”

Their gazes clashed in a silent battle of wills before Nefri hissed in resignation.

“I should never have allowed you through the Veil,” she muttered.

“Too late.” He stroked a hand over her alabaster cheek, relishing the feel of her satin skin. “Now you will never get rid of me.”

“Is that a threat?”

She met his burning gaze with cool indifference, but she couldn’t hide her tiny shiver of pleasure at his touch.

“A