“I need you to find me beautiful, querida,” he rasped. “I need you to hunger for me with the same insanity that plagues me.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, he shifted to cover her with the cool weight of his body, his head swooping down to claim her lips in a searing kiss.

An exquisite shudder shook her body. Insanity summed it up nicely.

But sometimes a woman had to toss aside logic and let the magic consume her.

As if sensing her reckless thoughts, Santiago growled low in his throat, his hands molding the soft curve of her breast as he spread frantic kisses over her face.

“Jasmine and midnight silk,” he muttered, his tongue outlining her lips. “You were sent here for me to devour.”

Nefri might have protested if his hand hadn’t trailed down to stroke between her thighs with experienced ease.

She moaned as his finger slid into her tight flesh, her back arching in growing pleasure. It didn’t seem possible that she could need him again so soon, but as his finger dipped in and out of her, she found her hands tightening in his hair.

“If you’re going to devour me, then do it,” she rasped.

His lips brushed over her cheek, then down the line of her jaw. “Patience, cara.” He scraped his fangs down the length of her throat. “All good things”—he nibbled down her collarbone—“in time.” He covered the aching tip of her breast.

She hissed. Her patience was legendary. She’d spent over a century cataloguing every plant that could grow beyond the Veil where the sunlight never pierced the thick mists. But how the hell was she supposed to be patient when her entire body was on fire?

She didn’t want to be patient. She just wanted to once again feel that glorious release that hovered just out of reach.

Fisting her fingers in his thick hair, she lifted her hips and wrapped her legs around his waist. “The time is now,” she informed him.

Pulling back, he regarded her with a rueful smile. “Always so bossy.”

She deliberately rubbed herself against the straining length of his erection. “If you wanted submissive you should have went with Charis.”

His eyes darkened, his fangs long and lethal in the dim lamplight. “What I want is you.” Holding her gaze, he shifted until the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. “Only you.”

“Then take me.”

“Sí.”

With a low hiss, Santiago tilted his hips forward, sliding into her with a slow, relentless thrust.

Lowering her hands, Nefri clutched at Santiago’s shoulders, moaning in approval at the delicious sense of fullness. In this moment they were joined as deeply as it was possible for two people to be joined.

As lovers . . .

Her mind instantly shied from the implied relationship.

“Nefri,” he whispered close to her ear. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, burying her face in the curve of his neck to absorb the rich male scent of him. “Nothing at all.”

“Then hang on, querida.”

The words had barely left his lips when he was pulling out and thrusting forward with enough force to bang the bed against the wall. Her eyes squeezed shut. Santiago’s tenderness had been a delightful surprise, but this was . . .

This was the raw, aching sex her body had longed for. This was perfection.

Meeting him thrust for thrust, Nefri scored her nails down his back, digging them into the firm muscles of his butt. He made a choked sound of pleasure, his lips finding hers in a kiss that demanded utter surrender.

“Dios, I’ve waited so long.”

She nipped at his lips, her fangs careful not to break his skin.

Vampires mated by exchanging blood. Not that she thought they were . . . or could . . . or ever would....

Never. The mere thought was ridiculous.

But, no use taking unnecessary risks, right?

Shoving aside the unwelcome distraction, she instead concentrated on Santiago as he stroked deeper, faster, taking her ever closer.

He felt so good as he moved inside her, his hands slipping beneath her hips as he gave a last surge and sent them both skyrocketing to paradise.

She gave a muted cry, her flare of power intertwining with Santiago’s to fill the room with a shimmer of brilliant colors, as if a rainbow had exploded.

“Good . . . lord,” she whispered in shock.

Styx’s lair in Chicago

It was the steady pulse of power that led Roke from the privacy of his rooms to the large library just past nightfall.

There was only one thing that could create the nuclear level energy. Which meant he wasn’t surprised when he stepped into the long room that was lined by ceiling-high bookshelves to discover Styx’s Ravens gathered.

A mocking smile curved his lips as he leaned against the doorjamb and surveyed the collection of massive vampires who were draped on the delicate Louis XIV chairs and sofas. They looked like oversized G.I. Joe action figures stuck in a miniature dollhouse.

“A powwow and you didn’t invite me?” Roke drawled as the vampires turned to regard him with varying degrees of impatience to downright irritation. He hadn’t made any effort to win friends and influence people since being forced to remain in Chicago. “I’m crushed.”

As if sensing that Roke was frustrated enough to pick a fight just to have a reason to hit someone, Styx crossed the room with long strides and stood directly in front of him, blocking his path. “Santiago called just before dawn,” he said.

Ah. Roke had heard the stirrings as he’d lain down to rest for the day, but it had been too late to seek out the cause.

“It must have been a helluva call for you to summon the A-team from their gargoyle duty.” He sent a taunting glance toward the larger-than-usual vampire with a long blond braid and fierce blue eyes. Jagr had recently become the official leader of the Ravens. “Is the world coming to an end?”

The vampire stepped forward, looking every inch the Visigoth warrior he’d once been. “No, but your end can be easily arranged, Tonto,” he growled.

Roke snorted. “Don’t you have a village to plunder, Goth-boy?”

Styx allowed his power to slice through the air with an icy edge. The surrounding vampires flinched in pain.

Clearly the Anasso was in a mood.

“Jagr, I’ll leave it to you to arrange the patrols. Make sure no one goes alone,” he commanded, his dark gaze never wavering from Roke. “You, come with me.”

Not giving Roke an option, Styx grabbed him by the upper arm and led him down the marble hallway. They halted on the landing of the wide staircase.

Roke pulled free of his companion’s grasp, studying Styx’s tense features. “Is Santiago in trouble?” he abruptly demanded.

The older vampire grimaced. “Santiago spends his life skirting on the edge of trouble.”

“Perhaps I should have asked if he was in more trouble than usual.”

“No, his call was concerning Gaius.”

“What about him?”

“It seems the bastard has acquired a nasty new talent.”

That didn’t sound good.

“Should I ask?”

“Santiago claims that his former sire is capable of infecting humans with his bite.”

“Infecting them with what?”

“Violence.”

Roke frowned. Was this some sort of joke? “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either, but I’m sending out scouts to make sure we prevent any unwelcome surprises,” Styx muttered.

“Perfect.” Roke pounced on the excuse to escape the lair. “Sign me up.”

“Not you.” Styx swiftly shut him down. “I need you to stay here.”

Roke barely swallowed his growl of annoyance. “Why?”

“I’m leaving in a few minutes to try and gain an audience with the Oracles.”

“And?” Roke prompted.

Styx shrugged, his expression guarded. “And I need you to protect the lair.”

Roke was getting a bad feeling about this.

A very bad feeling.

“And?”

“And to keep an eye on our guest.”

Shit, he knew it.

“The witch?” he ground out.

“Unless you’ve added to our collection in the dungeons?”

“Why would I?” He planted his hands on his hips, glaring at the older vampire. “I don’t want to take care of the one we’ve got.”

“It’s only until we’ve discovered what the hell is going on with Gaius.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Easy?” Styx met him glare for glare. “Would you rather go speak with the Oracles?”

Oh . . . hell, no.

Not that he was about to admit as much to the towering Aztec in front of him. “You know what I want,” he instead snapped.

Styx paused, studying Roke with a piercing intelligence. “Is there something going on with this witch I should know about?”

Roke clenched his hands. What was there to know about? That he’d spent the daylight hours plagued by the thought of warm ivory skin and glorious autumn hair that smelled of peaches? That he’d had to force his feet to carry him to the library rather than heading down to the dungeons?