True. Styx might be king, but that didn’t mean jack-squat to a female who was desperate to reach her child. “You’re afraid she’ll be captured by the Dark Lord?” he instead asked.
“No, I’m afraid she’ll be disappointed,” Tane admitted, his low voice harsh with pain. “She’s never sensed the entrance to the Dark Lord’s prison during her previous travels. I doubt it will make a magical appearance now that we need it. She’ll be devastated if she fails.”
Styx squeezed the younger vampire’s shoulder, offering his unspoken sympathy. “Will you go with her?”
Tane arched a brow. “Is that a joke?”
“Just be careful,” Styx commanded. “There are more dangers than just the Dark Lord.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Tane reminded him.
Styx nodded, wise enough not to point out that both Tane and Laylah were emotionally compromised and hardly capable of making rational decisions.
At the moment they were all emotionally compromised.
“And stay in contact.”
“I will.”
Tane gave a faint nod before whirling on his heel and disappearing from the room. Jaelyn followed behind him, leaving Styx alone in the barren cell.
Powerless to do anything to assist Tane in finding his son, let alone halting the return of the Dark Lord as the all-powerful Gemini, Styx turned to ram his fist into the cement wall. A shower of rubble and dust filled the air, along with his blistering curses.
“God dammit,” he roared. “I’m tired of constantly being one step behind.”
There was a faint stir of air before a slender woman with short, spiky, blond hair and green eyes that looked too large for her heart-shaped faced stepped into the room.
“It’s not your fault, my love.”
Styx instinctively reached for his tiny Were mate, pulling her into his arms and allowing her presence to ease his need for destruction. “I’m the Anasso,” he said, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. “It’s my duty to protect my people.”
Darcy wrapped her arms around his waist. “Now is not the time to dwell on failure. We must concentrate on what comes next.”
Styx’s growl rumbled through the room. “Chaos comes next,” he told her. “The Dark Lord has both of the children. The prophecy has been fulfilled.”
She gave a click of her tongue, tilting back her head to regard him with a chiding frown. “We don’t fully know what the words of the prophecy mean,” she said. “But I do know that the easiest way for the Dark Lord to defeat us is for us to simply give up.”
Ever the optimist, he wryly acknowledged. Which worked out just fine, considering he gave the definition of pessimist a whole new meaning. His gaze skimmed over her delicate face. This female was the light to his dark. Tenderness to his brutality.
The heart to his brawn.
Which made her a treasure beyond price. And specifically why he’d refused her request to join him.
“I thought I told you to stay at home.”
She snorted at his reproach. “And you know how well I obey orders.”
He brushed her lips with a rueful kiss. “Troublemaker.”
“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“No,” he instantly agreed, pressing her head back to his chest and returning his cheek to the top of her head. “I’m afraid, my angel.”
“I know,” she whispered, her hands running up and down his back in a soothing caress. “We all are.”
“If we can’t stop—”
“Shh,” she interrupted his dark words. “We’ll find a way.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“We’re the good guys.”
His short laugh bounced off the cement walls. No one had ever called him one of the “good guys.”
“I doubt you could find many who would agree with that rather prejudiced claim.” Styx abruptly stiffened, lifting his head to glare at the miniature gargoyle who waddled through the door. “Get out.”
Levet stuck out his tongue, as always impervious to the fact that Styx could crush him with one hand. “Is that any way to speak to a demon who is attempting to save your sausage?” the aggravating demon mocked.
Styx scowled. “What the—”
“Bacon,” Darcy explained, pulling away to send a brilliant smile toward the walking, talking chunk of granite. “Save your bacon.”
Styx rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I picked up his scent.”
“Kostas?”
“Oui. He used a tunnel hidden behind a spell of illusion.” The gossamer wings fluttered. “A very good spell. I nearly missed it.”
“I never thought I’d say this.” Grudgingly, Styx pulled his sword and pointed toward the door. “Lead on.”
Using his medallion to travel to the Dark Lord’s prison, Gaius placed the child in the swirling mists and lowered himself to his knees. Bending his head, he waited for his presence to be noticed.
He sensed time passing, although it was impossible to judge the exact length in the strange fog, and in truth, he didn’t really care. Since his last tête-à-tête with the Dark Lord he’d become . . . what? Not indifferent. Not even numb.
It was more a sensation of being resigned. As if the last thread of hope he’d clung to since the death of Dara had snapped, leaving him to float in a sea of defeat.
He would do as he was commanded, quite simply because he had no choice. But his fierce belief that he would soon be reunited with his mate was fading with every passing hour, leaving behind an empty void.
Eventually, he felt the crushing power that warned of the Dark Lord’s steady approach. He shuddered at the sensation of his skin being flayed from his flesh, but he wisely kept his head lowered.
“Ah, Gaius.” A girlish giggle sliced through the fog. “So you have learned discretion.”
“Yes . . .” He struggled for a suitable title. “Mistress.”
“Mistress, hmmm. I suppose that will do.”
Gaius kept his head down. “I have brought you the child.”
“So you have.” He felt a stir of air, the punishing pain easing. “Bring him to me.”
Reluctantly glancing up, Gaius discovered the Dark Lord had created a throne out of the swirling mist and was perched on it, wearing a white sundress. Cristo. She looked like a Homecoming Queen, not the ultimate of all evil. Then the crimson fires of hell flared in the guileless blue eyes, ruining the image of purity.