Alexandra Ivy - Hunt the Darkness

Styxs lair

Chicago, IL

Styx was fairly certain that hell had frozen over.

Nothing else could explain the fact that in the past year hed become the Anasso (King of All Vampires), moved from his dank caves into a behemoth of a mansion that contained acres of marble, crystal and giltgilt for Christs sakeand mated with a pure-blooded Were who also happened to be a vegetarian.

Then, as if fate hadnt had enough laughs at his expense, hed been in an epic battle against the Dark Lord, which meant hed been forced to make allies out of former enemies.

Including the King of Weres, Salvatore, who was currently drinking Styxs finest brandy as he smoothed a hand down his impeccable Gucci suit.

Of course, if it wasnt for the fact that their mates happened to be sisters, he would never have allowed the bastard over his doorstep, he pacified his battered pride. His own mate, Darcy, was very . . . insistent that she be allowed to spend time with Harley, who was growing heavy with her first pregnancy.

Or was it litter?

Either way, Styx and Salvatore were forced to play nice.

Not an easy task for two ber-alphas whod been opponents for centuries.

Settling his six-foot-plus frame in a chair that had a view of the moon-drenched gardens, Styx waited for his companion to finish his drink.

As always, Salvatore looked more like a sophisticated mob boss than the King of Weres. His dark hair was pulled to a tail at his nape and his elegant features were cleanly shaved. Only the feral heat that glowed in the dark eyes revealed the truth of the beast that lived inside him.

Styx, on the other hand, didnt even try to appear civilized.

A towering Aztec warrior, he was wearing a pair of leather pants, heavy shitkickers, and a white silk shirt that was stretched to the limit to cover his broad chest. His long black hair was braided to hang down to his waist and threaded with tiny turquoise amulets. And to complete the image, he had a huge sword strapped to his back.

What was the point in being a badass if you couldnt look like one?

Setting aside his empty glass, Salvatore flashed a dazzling white smile. A sure sign he was about to be annoying.

Let me see if I have this right, the wolf drawled.

Yep. Annoying.

Styx narrowed his dark eyes, his features that were too stark for true beauty tight with warning.

Do you have to?

Oh yes. The smile widened. You asked the clan chief of Nevada to babysit a witch you had locked in your dungeons?

Styx silently swore to have a chat with his mate once their guests were gone.

He hadnt intended Salvatore to know that one of his most powerful vampires had been magically forced into a mating.

Hell, hed had a hard enough time divulging the info with Jagr, his most trusted Raven. It was only because he needed the vampire to do research that hed revealed the secret.

A mating was the rarest, most sacred, most intimate connection a demon could experience.

To think for a second that it could be inflicted on a vampire against his will was nothing less than . . . rape.

You didnt reveal that kind of weakness to your enemies. Even if you did have a peace treaty.

Darcy, however, was a genuine optimist who blithely assumed that Salvatore would never abuse privileged information.

Now Styx was stuck revealing the truth to the mangy mutt.

Sally Grace was not only a powerful witch who was capable of black magic, but she worshipped the Dark Lord, he grudgingly explained, not about to admit that it had been more habit than fear that had led him to lock the female in his dungeons. Sally Grace was barely over five feet and weighed less than a hundred pounds. She hadnt looked like a threat. And she probably wouldnt have been if she hadnt been so scared. Of course I wasnt going to take any chances.

Why Roke?

Styx shrugged. I was busy dealing with the ancient spirit that was trying to turn vampires into crazed killers.

Naturally Salvatore wasnt satisfied.

And? he prodded.

And the prophet had warned that Roke would be important to the future, he muttered. Hed truly thought keeping Roke in his lair would protect him. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and vampires. How the hell was I supposed to know Sally Grace was half demon?

Salvatore grimaced. It must have been quite a shock to poor Roke to discover himself mated to a witch.

Styxs humorless laugh echoed through the library at the memory of Rokes fury.

Shock isnt the word Id used.

Shes lucky he didnt kill her on the spot.

Frustration simmered deep inside Styx. Roke might be an arrogant pain-in-the-ass, but he was a brother. And more importantly, he was a clan chief who had a duty to his people. They had to find a way to break the mating.

And how to make damned sure it never happened again.

He might have killed her if the magic she used didnt feel as real as any true mating.

Salvatores amusement faded. That bad?

Worse. Styx surged to his feet. Without her knowing who or what fathered her, the witch doesnt even know how to reverse the damage.

Youre certain this isnt some trick?

Im not certain of anything beyond the need to find a way to break the bond.

Salvatore poured another shot of brandy. Do you have a plan?

Plan? Styx grimaced. The closest theyd had to a plan the past year had been to charge from one disaster to another.

Why would this be any different?

Sally left almost three weeks ago to search for any clues that would reveal who her father might be, he said.

And Roke?

Hes trying to catch her.

Salvatore arched a brow. You let him go alone?

Of course not. A slow smile curved Styxs lips. I allowed Levet to go with him.

Salvatore choked on his brandy at the mention of the tiny gargoyle whod attached himself to both Darcy and Harley. Like a freaking barnacle that couldnt be scraped off.

A three-foot pest with delicate fairy wings in shades of blue and crimson and gold, Levet could drive a sane man to gargoyle-cide in three seconds flat.

You are a bad, bad vampire, Salvatore murmured.

I try.

Northern Canada

Roke hadnt yet given in to his overwhelming desire to commit gargoyle-cide.

But it was a near thing.

Roke was antisocial by nature, and having to endure endless chatter from a stunted gargoyle for the past three weeks had been nothing short of torture.

It was only the fact that Levet could sense Yannah, the demon whod helped Sally flee from Chicago, that kept him from sending the annoying twit back to Styx.

His mating connection to Sally allowed him to sense her, but Yannahs ability to teleport from one place to another in a blink of an eye meant by the time he could locate her, she was already gone.

Levet seemed to have a more direct connection to Yannah, although they still spent their nights chasing from one place to another, always one step behind them.

Until tonight.

With a small smile he came to a halt, allowing his senses to flow outward.

The sturdy cottage tucked on the western coast of British Columbia was perched to overlook the churning waves of the North Pacific Ocean. Built from the gray stones that lined the craggy cliffs, it had a steep, metal roof to shed the heavy snowfalls and windows that were already shuttered against the late autumn breeze. A garage plus two sturdy sheds surrounded the bleak property, but it was far enough away from civilization to avoid prying eyes.

Not that prying eyes could have detected him.

Leaving his custom-built turbine-powered motorcycle hidden in the trees, Roke was dressed in black. Black jeans, black tee, and black leather jacket with a pair of knee-high moccasins that allowed him to move in lethal silence.