had any number of skills. They were reputedly stronger and faster than the average vampire, as well as able to shroud themselves so deeply in shadows that they were all but invisible.
More impressive, they were walking, talking lie detectors. Supposedly no demon could deceive them.
Like he needed that kind of headache.
Christ. He should have left her in Siberia.
“If you knew how to escape the island, then why didn’t you?” she demanded.
“Because I couldn’t rescue my brothers without alerting the guards.”
“So you stayed?”
He frowned, puzzled by her curiosity. “I wasn’t leaving them behind. Does that surprise you?”
An unreadable emotion rippled over her beautiful face before it was swiftly wiped away.
“Sylvermysts aren’t renowned for their generous hearts or noble natures. As Tearloch proved.”
Ariyal couldn’t argue.
Sylvermyst had a long, well-earned reputation for their cruel natures and hunger for violence, but he’d be damned if he allowed a cold-hearted leech to judge him.
Not after everything he’d sacrificed to save his people.
“Tearloch’s frightened and ... confused,” he admitted. “Once I track him down I’ll convince him of the error of his ways.”
“You mean, he’ll do as you want or you’ll kill him?”
“Ah, you understand me so well, poppet.”
“I understand that you’re a bastard who is out to save your own worthless skin,” she charged.
“Good. Then I don’t have to convince you that I will happily leave you here to rot unless you agree to do exactly as I say.”
A frigid smile curved her lips. “Don’t be a moron. If I disappear the Anasso will send out a dozen warriors to search for me.”
“He can send out a hundred if he wants. They’ll never be able to sense you behind the mists.” His gaze lingered on her lush, full lips, easily imagining the pleasure they could bring a man. With a growl, he took an instinctive step closer, ignoring the danger. “Face it, poppet, they already assume you’re dead.”
“Then they’ll hunt you down and execute you. There’s nowhere you can go they won’t find you.”
He grasped her chin, staring down at the eyes that had lost their ice to flash with indigo fire. His gut twisted with need.
“I spent centuries in the harem of Morgana le Fey. Leeches don’t scare me.”
“What does scare you?”
“This ...”
Ignoring the fangs that could rip out his throat with one swipe, not to mention the claws that could dig through solid concrete, Ariyal leaned forward and claimed her mouth in a kiss of pure possession.
Mine ...
Chapter 2
Jaelyn was never taken by surprise.
Never.
She was a Hunter. A vigilant, razor-sharp warrior with such superior skills that she’d been taken by the Addonexus (the vampire equivalent of black ops) mere weeks after she’d been turned.
And even with her natural skills, she’d still been trained for years before being allowed to leave the secret compound.
Tracking, weapons, martial arts, psychological warfare, and the latest tech (including being able to hack into a military-grade computer system) had been drilled into her with brutal efficiency over the past fifty years.
But this damned Sylvermyst had kept her flat-footed and constantly one step behind him.
She wanted to believe it was some mystic fey crap.
After all, a vampire’s one vulnerability was magic, and since it was believed that the Sylvermyst had been banished along with their master, the Dark Lord, she’d never been taught what sort of nefarious tricks Ariyal might be hiding behind his too-pretty face.
It would explain how he’d managed to escape from an iron-lined cell after she’d captured him. And how he could catch her off guard to yank her through a portal and bring her to this godforsaken island.
And how he could claim her lips in a kiss that shut down her brain, as well as most of her higher motor skills.
His mouth was deliciously warm, demanding a response, and for a crazed moment she allowed the blinding pleasure to sear through her, the tips of her toes curling in her boots. It was only when she was actually swaying toward the hard temptation of his body that she was wrenched out of the strange spell.
Oh ... shit.
This wasn’t a spell.
It was good, old-fashioned lust that had sizzled between them since that first, jolting touch. Or perhaps it had been from the moment she’d caught his rich, earthy scent that was a combination of herbs and pure male power.
Not that the when or how mattered.
She might not have been trained to deal with dark fey magic, but she’d sure the hell been drilled in controlling her baser instincts.
Nothing like being skinned alive a few times to teach