"What have you done to me, Amaranda?" he asked in a ragged, demonic tone.
"I saved you, Cael. " But even as those words left her lips, she knew the truth. She hadn't saved him.
She'd damned them both straight to hell.
Ravyn leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. His head was throbbing from exhaustion and tension. How could someone trap a public official in the police department without getting burned?
Even if they did catch him, could they clear Susan's name? He wasn't particularly worried about himself. He could be transferred to a remote part of the world for a few decades and then moved back here. But her...
He smelled her the instant she returned to the room. He kept his eyes closed as he savored the scent. There was nothing more soothing to him. Nothing more gentle. Her feet made only the slightest of sounds as she crossed the room and then knelt by his side.
She brushed the hair back from his forehead, firing his body with her careful touch. And then she pressed her lips against his. Ravyn hissed at the taste of her as he returned her kiss.
But when she reached for his fly, he caught her hand in his and moved it away.
He opened his eyes to find her frowning at him. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, love. But we can't have sex until you're sure you want to mate with me. That's how we seal the deal. One tiny penetration, whether intended or not, and you're mine. Forever."
She nipped his mouth with her teeth. "Would that be so bad?"
He teased her lips with his tongue. "No. Not at all. But I already told you that I want you to take a few days to really consider this. Once we're mated there's no way back." Not to mention the fact that as a Dark-Hunter he wasn't supposed to mate at all.
"Okay." She pulled back. "So what's our game plan?"
"That's what I've been trying to think of. I mean, if we're right, and I'm sure we are, we have a motive and a name. It explains why the police are so gung ho to hang us and how they're getting away with all this."
"And if you're right and his sons are both Daimons, he doesn't want them to die like his wife, which explains why he wants to wipe out the Dark-Hunters in Seattle."
He nodded, then had a bad thought go through him. He pushed himself away from the wall. "We have to get Erika out of here."
"What?"
"We need Erika gone. First thing. I don't want them to use her as a hostage."
"Wouldn't all Squires be in danger?"
He shook his head. "Think about it, Susan. I killed his wife."
"He wants your blood more than the others."
"Yeah, and that is how we're going to get him."
Stryker walked into his study on Kalosis to find the clock that marked human hours on his mantel. It would soon be dawn and Trates hadn't returned...
What could be keeping him?
It wasn't like his second in command to stay gone so long. Feeling stupid for even caring, Stryker picked up the sfora from his desk and cradled the small clear crystal orb in his hand. The Atlantean word for "eye," the sfora was a way for those in Kalosis to keep tabs on the humans or anyone else on earth or here.
"Where are you, Trates?" he mumbled under his breath as he searched for him.
He found nothing.
Stryker frowned. "Show me Trates," he commanded the magical orb.
There was nothing but the red and gold swirling mist.
He gripped the ball tight in his hand as he conjured an image of the Daimon he sought in his mind. "Show me what has happened to him."