Kata slammed her hands against his chest. She loved her daughter, but Laylah obviously had piss poor taste in choosing a Knight in Shining Armor.
“Get off me, you oaf.”
“Not until I’m certain this isn’t a trap.”
She shifted beneath his heavy body, futilely trying to wiggle away from him. If the brute thought he could knock her to the ground and then insult her, then he was in for an unpleasant surprise. She might not possess the strength of a demon, but she wasn’t entirely helpless.
“Do you know what I am?” she hissed.
Concentrating on her efforts to escape, Kata missed the sudden stiffening of the vampire’s body and his muffled groan.
“Is that an invitation for further exploration?” he demanded, his low voice suddenly thick with awareness. “A little blatant for my taste, but I’m willing to play.”
She told herself that it was shock that made her stomach clench and her heart race. And as for the sizzle of excitement that shot through her . . . well, that had to be anger.
Anything else would be sheer insanity.
“It’s a warning that unless you get off of me this instant I will curse your most prized possession,” she said between gritted teeth. “And I’m not talking about your sword.”
Chapter 4
Uriel glared at the woman pinned beneath him.
Nothing had gone right from the minute he’d left Victor’s lair.
He’d journeyed directly to Stonehenge only to run headlong into a brick wall.
Literally.
The damned mage had left a dozen different snares to trap the unwary. Twice Uriel had been dropped into hidden pits. The first one had been lined with bricks embedded with silver spikes that had seared away the flesh of his palms and feet before he’d managed to climb his way out. The second pit had been filled with rabid hellhounds he’d been forced to fight through to get to the door that led to the cell he could sense deep below ground.
It had taken days to heal his wounds and gather enough strength to continue his trek downward. It had taken even more days to dodge the Sylvermyst who patrolled the tunnels and then, at last, barrel his way through the heavy door.
Was it any wonder he wasn’t in the mood for surprises?
And Kata was a surprise, he grudgingly admitted.
He’d expected her beauty. She was a twin to Marika, after all, and as much as he might detest the cold-blooded bitch, no one could deny she was stunning.
But while Kata shared Marika’s glossy curls and midnight eyes set in a pale, perfect face, they had nothing in common.
Marika was cold arrogance edged with the promise of pain.
Kata was . . .
Heat and passion and the promise of endless pleasure.
He bit back another groan as she wiggled her lush, sexy body beneath him.
Dammit.
This was supposed to be a simple snag and bag.
Kata should have been playing Sleeping Beauty so he could toss her over his shoulder and get the hell out of the cramped prison. From there it was a straight shot back to Victor’s lair and wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am he was washing his hands of the unpleasant duty.
Instead she was very much awake and wiggling beneath him in a way that had him painfully aroused and a breath from ripping off her too-thin nightgown and easing the sharp hunger that had slammed into him without warning.
What was wrong with him?
Debating that pertinent question, Uriel belatedly caught the odd scent of brimstone. Jerking his head to the side he watched as a tiny female demon in a white robe crossed the cell to regard him with a mysterious smile.
“I just knew the two of you would hit it off,” she murmured, her voice a low sing-song. “But you might want to brace yourselves. We’re about to be sucked into hell.”
His brows snapped together. “What the . . .”
“Hell?” The woman smiled to reveal an impressive set of razor sharp teeth. “Yes, I just said that.”
“Who are you?” he growled, instinctively shifting so his body was shielding Kata. And how crazy was that? “Actually, let’s start off with what are you?”
“I’m Yannah. And as for what I am . . . hmmm.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “Do you believe in fairy godmothers?”
“No,” he snapped.
She sighed. “A pity.”
Beneath him, Kata used the sudden distraction to scramble free from the weight of his body, her gaze pinned on the far wall of the cell.
“Yannah,” she breathed, “something’s happening.”
“The gateway is opening,” the tiny demon announced.
With a liquid motion Uriel was on his feet, yanking the large sword from the scabbard angled across his back.
He’d packed light when he’d left Victor’s lair. A pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, combat boots, and his weapons.
What else did a vampire need?
“Gateway?” he growled.
Yannah nodded. “To the underworld.”
Uriel glanced toward the swirling mist that was forming near the lead-lined wall.
“Christ. I told Victor this was a trap,” he muttered, whirling to point the tip of his sword in the center of Kata’s chest. “Close the gateway, witch, or I’ll carve out your heart.”
She didn’t so much as flinch, her eyes flashing with a proud fury.
“I’m a gypsy, not a witch, you dolt.”
Uriel ground his teeth, refusing to admit his fascination with the woman’s passionate courage. Dammit. The gates of hell were parting. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.
“You can call yourself the queen of England if you want, just close the damned gateway.”
“I didn’t open it.”
“Gateways to the underworld don’t just open on their own.” He pointed the sword toward the tiny Yannah. “You.”
“Not me.” Yannah wrinkled her nose. “Sergei.”
Uriel’s hand tightened on his sword, his gaze searching the small cell.
“The mage?”
“He cast a spell binding Kata to her twin,” the demon explained.
“And your point?” he prompted.
“Marika has been destroyed.”
“Good,” he said. “Someone should have chopped off the bitch’s head centuries ago.”
Kata slapped her hands on her hips. “Did you miss the part where I’m bound to my sister?”
He shrugged. “Can’t you . . . unbind yourself?”
“No.”
His gaze shifted toward Yannah who gave a sharp shake of her head.
“Don’t look at me.”