“Why have you brought us here?”
As hoped, the creature was distracted by the abrupt question, her sweet face lighting with a sudden anticipation. “You, my dear, have something I want.”
Cassie stiffened. That didn’t sound good. “What?”
“The future.”
“I don’t understand.”
There was another disarming flash of those dimples as the Dark Lord moved to brush her fingers over Cassie’s cheek. “Those pretty, pretty visions.”
It was, no doubt, what Cassie should have expected, but she still found herself reeling in confusion. “I thought you massacred prophets because you didn’t like the visions?”
“I was perhaps a bit hasty.” The female gave a tiny pout, as if the wholesale slaughter of dozens of seers was a mere inconvenience. “I had hoped that by ridding the world of the prophets I could alter my fate.”
“And now?”
The fingers shifted to cup Cassie’s chin in a punishing grip. “Now I accept that the future cannot be changed.”
A bleak sense of failure raced through Cassie at the aching emptiness in the sacred center of her heart.
Caine.
“No,” she breathed. “It can’t.”
“So I intend to use it to my advantage.”
She forced herself to meet the unnerving blue gaze flecked with crimson. “How?”
“You will show me my future so I will know precisely what to expect.” The fingers tightened until Cassie felt her chin fracture beneath the force. “There will be no more unpleasant surprises.”
She hissed in pain, struggling to concentrate. “It doesn’t work like that. I have no control over the visions or what they show me.”
Loosening her brutal grip, the Dark Lord patted Cassie’s cheek.
Bitch.
“Because you’ve never had the necessary encouragement to train your abilities.”
“Necessary encouragement?” Cassie echoed. “I suppose you mean torture?”
“Semantics.”
Yeah, easy for the one not being tortured to say.
She tilted her battered chin, refusing to show fear. “If pain could give me control over the prophecies, then the demon lord who held me prisoner would have been torturing me for the past thirty years.”
The creature shrugged. “Oh, I don’t doubt that you would endure any amount of suffering to cling to your annoying morals.”
“It has nothing to do with morals.”
“That might be what you believe, but I suspect that the block is unconscious.” Dropping her hand, the Dark Lord stepped back to regard Cassie with a confidence that made her stomach clench. “Once we break it down we will be able to tap into those visions. The future will belong to me.”
Cassie shook her head, baffled by the female’s assurance that the visions could be controlled. As far as Cassie knew there’d never been a seer capable of focusing her prophecies so they showed a particular person or event.
Had her latest failure driven the Dark Lord—or whatever she was supposed to be called now—over the edge? The thought wasn’t particularly reassuring.
“You can torture me all you want, but it won’t change anything.”
“True.”
Cassie scowled in confusion. “But you just said . . .”
“I know that you would allow yourself to die before giving me what I need.” The female overrode her words, a hint of disdain in her voice. “Wolves are so stupidly stubborn. But there is more than one way to skin a cat.” She deliberately paused, her wide blue eyes turning toward the unconscious Caine. “Or in this case, a wolf.”
Realization hit a split second too late. Diving toward Caine, Cassie could do nothing to halt the Dark Lord as she pointed her finger in his direction and a bolt of power slammed into his helpless body.
“No.” Landing on her knees, Cassie cradled his head in her arms, feeling his body tremble beneath the force of the attack.
“Only you can halt the pain, prophet,” the Dark Lord warned. “Give me what I want.”
Chapter 13
Styx’s lair in Chicago
The Anasso’s private study in his vast mansion wasn’t what most people expected.
Far from the dank dungeon with torture devices of the previous King of Vampires, or even the high-tech office that was wired better than the Pentagon that Viper preferred, Styx had chosen a book-lined room with polished mahogany furniture and a delicate Persian carpet.
It was all very civilized. Well, as long as a person didn’t count the dozen spells and hexes that were wrapped around the room. Or the entire horde of vampires patrolling the hallway just outside the door.
Nothing was coming in or out without Styx’s say-so.
Perched on the edge of the massive desk, Styx was in his usual garb. Leather pants, shit-kicker boots, and T-shirt stretched tight over his heavily muscled chest. His hair hung down in a long braid threaded with turquoise ornaments.
A complete opposite of Viper, who stepped into the study, his ivory silk shirt ruffled at the neck and cuffs and his black velvet pants as flamboyant as Styx’s were stark.
“All quiet?” the clan chief of Chicago demanded, his silver hair shimmering in the light from the overhead chandelier.
Styx grimaced. “So far.”
Viper halted in the center of the room, his dark gaze all too perceptive. “You don’t sound as pleased as you should.”
“I hate this waiting.”
“You still have your Ravens guarding the child?”
Styx gave a sharp nod. He’d insisted that Tane and Laylah remain in his lair with their child, Maluhia. It had become even more vital that the babe be protected after Jaelyn and Ariyal had escaped from the hell dimension to reveal that the female twin of Maluhia had already been used to resurrect the Dark Lord. It’d only been because Jaelyn had drained the blood of the creature during their battle that the Dark Lord hadn’t been able to return to this world.
Now the bastard, or rather the bitch, would be more determined than ever to get her hands on Maluhia. And if the prophecy was to be believed, the reunion of the two children behind the Mists would be nothing less than . . . chaos.
Not only would the Dark Lord return to this world, but the barriers between dimensions would be destroyed.
Hell would quite literally spew into the streets.
Which was why he had his most trusted guards on duty around the clock.
“Yes, but they can only be asked to be trapped on babysitting duty for so long before they’ll go stir-crazy.”