“Bored?” Levet’s wings quivered. “Are you natty?”

“Nutty,” Yannah gritted. “It’s nutty.”

Levet waved a hand. “I chased you from Russia to London to the pits of hell.”

“And once I allowed you to catch me, the thrill was gone. Admit it.”

“I—”

A sharp burst of power flooded the room, threatening a pain that made them all freeze in wariness.

“Enough,” Siljar snapped. “Yannah, you will find Recise and resume your training.”

“But . . .” Yannah swallowed her words as she met her mother’s smoldering gaze, belatedly realizing that Siljar had reached the end of her patience. “I’m going.” She turned to glare at Levet. “We will continue this conversation later.”

“Mon dieu,” the gargoyle breathed.

Siljar waited for Yannah to stomp from the cavern before turning her attention to Levet.

“And you.”

“Moi?”

“You will accompany my guest on her mission.”

Levet glanced toward Nefri, his expression melting to offer her a smile of pure male appreciation. “But of course.”

“I must warn you that there is a potential for great danger,” Siljar said.

“Bah.” Levet tilted his chin to a proud angle. “Danger is my maiden name.”

“I believe you mean ‘middle,’” Siljar corrected him.

“It is all the same.” The gargoyle waddled over to stand directly in front of Nefri, bending at the waist in an old-school bow. “My lady.”

“Nefri,” she insisted, finding herself charmed by the tiny demon. Why did Styx and Santiago spend so much time complaining about the creature?

“It will be my greatest pleasure to assist you in your quest,” he assured her. “I did, after all, save the world from a certain apocalypse only weeks ago.” He abruptly scowled, glancing toward the Oracle. “Wait.”

Siljar lifted her brows. “Yes?”

“There isn’t going to be another apocalypse, is there?”

“No.”

“Dieu merci.”

“Well, at least not if we can prevent it,” Siljar corrected herself.

Levet tossed his hands in the air. “Why me?”

Chapter 3

Louisiana wetlands

Santiago wasn’t the only predator to prowl through the cypress trees that were painted silver in the moonlight. Alligators, rattlesnakes, and occasional cougars hunted through the swamp along with the far more dangerous water sprites, who could lure a man to his doom, and a rare Dalini serpent, a demon who could transform from serpent form to look human. Always born male, they had to mate with mortal females.

Santiago was, however, the most lethal.

Moving with a grace that was impressive considering the spongy ground and thick undergrowth, Santiago slowly circled the isolated swamp, coming to an abrupt halt as a sensation he hadn’t felt in centuries flared to life.

Dios.

It was his bond to Gaius.

Not all sires allowed a “child” to form a physical attachment. In the good old days, most vampires rarely stuck around to find out if their creation actually survived the process of transformation, let alone continued to feed their offspring to give them the best possible chance for survival.

Gaius had gone a step further by taking Santiago into his clan and into his lair.

A true son.

The blood connection had given Santiago the ability to sense his sire. Or, if he was far away, to sense his general direction.

Santiago had assumed the bond had been destroyed when he traveled beyond the Veil. After all, he hadn’t felt his sire for centuries, not even when he returned to this world. Now he could only wonder if the Dark Lord had somehow kept the older vampire from being discovered.

Holding perfectly still, Santiago allowed his powers to spread toward the distant house, built on brick stilts and painted white.

Large with two stories, it had black shutters and a screened-in porch that wrapped around the side. The roof had recently been replaced, but the nearby chicken coop looked like a stiff breeze might blow it over.

The structure was effectively hidden by the large trees draped in Spanish moss that surrounded it and was set far enough from the path leading to the nearby small town to avoid unwanted interest.

A perfect lair for a vampire seeking solitude.

Confident that nothing was creeping through the shadows beyond the native wildlife, Santiago focused his powers on the house.

It took only a second for a jolt of recognition to blaze through him.

Gaius wasn’t there, but something else was.

Something powerful enough to make the very air sizzle.

So much for being the most lethal predator around, he conceded, his hands clenched as he was slammed by a combination of shock and dark, unwelcomed arousal. The Oracles had sent in the big guns.

Nefri.

No vampire beyond Styx had that kind of juice.

Certainly no other vampire could make him hard by her mere scent.

Jasmine.

Enticing, elusive, dangerous.

And his own personal kryptonite.

His spine stiffened as he moved forward, silently sliding through the front gate and up the wide staircase.

Not this time.

During their last encounter Nefri had managed to lead him by the nose and then dumped him like a bad habit.

Tonight she was going to discover that he wasn’t her lap dog. In fact, he might just be her worst nightmare.

Entering the house, he glanced around the front room, which was filled with padded bamboo furniture. A frown touched his brow as he realized that the sofa and chairs had been shoved aside so a large circle could be scraped into the wooden floorboards.

The witch’s work, no doubt.

Not that he gave a damn at the moment. His senses were filled with a beguiling jasmine scent that filtered deep into places that he’d forgotten existed. Mierda. His entire body was resonating with awareness. As if Nefri had infected him with a brutal craving that only she could satisfy.

He should turn and walk away, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. A call to Styx for a replacement and he would be returning to his club to find a woman who could make him forget he’d ever met a female named Nefri.

But of course he didn’t.

His infamous talent for remaining in command no matter what the situation had been destroyed the moment he’d realized that Nefri was within his grasp. Now he stalked forward, following the trail of his prey into the back kitchen.

Distantly he was aware of peeling linoleum, the ancient human appliances, and a small wooden table. But it was the female vampire standing in the center of the room that commanded his attention.

Regal.

There was no other word for Nefri’s tall graceful beauty. Even surrounded by shabby white-painted cabinets and drenched in fluorescent light, she looked like a queen with her hair falling to her waist like a river of liquid ebony. Her face was a perfect, pale oval with features carved by the hands of angels and eyes dark and deep enough for a man to drown in.

Her lips . . . dios. How many fantasies had been devoted to imagining those cherry red lips wrapped around his cock? The same cock that was already standing at painful attention.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he drawled, moving to lean against the tiled countertop, his gaze narrowing as he took in the faded jeans that clung to her long, slender legs and the jade cashmere sweater that allowed him to appreciate the full curve of her breasts.

The last time she’d left the Veil she’d draped herself in long robes that only hinted at the feminine flawlessness beneath.

Now he felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut. Trying to pretend a nonchalance he was far from feeling, Santiago folded his arms over his chest and met her piercing gaze.

“Santiago,” she murmured, taking a brief inventory of his own jeans, gray hoodie, and big-ass sword strapped to his back, her aloof composure rousing his most primitive instincts.

She wouldn’t look so cold and untouchable once he had her tumbled into his bed, he silently swore. She would be warm and willing and wild enough to sate his hunger.

He wouldn’t accept anything less.

He smiled, not bothering to hide his raw desire. Hell, she already thought he was a barbarian. No need to disappoint her.

“I thought you had scurried back behind the Veil.”

“Scurried?” A slow lift of her brow. “I returned to my home.”

“Without so much as a good-bye?”

“My people needed me.”

Bull. Shit.

“For what?”

She shrugged. “It was difficult for us to accept that we could have a traitor living among us and not have suspected the truth.”

Now that he believed her. Immortal Ones were arrogant enough to assume that they couldn’t be deceived. Their pride must have taken quite a beating for them to accept they’d harbored the traitor.

Still, he knew it was more than concern for her clan that had made her disappear without warning.

“And you were running away?”

A cool smile of disdain. “Running away from what?”

He was lunging forward before he even realized he was moving, grasping her by the shoulders, swooping down his head.