There was a surge of electricity, and then the glowing lights faded to reveal the six female Harpies standing in front of them.
They were gorgeous, of course. With long black hair and gray eyes that swirled with the power of thunderclouds, their naked bodies were leanly muscled with large wings on their backs. Always formidable warriors, they used their beauty to distract their enemies before striking them down with the fireballs they could conjure from thin air.
They were also crafty as hell, easily trapping unwary males in hidden snares to hold them captive during their mating season. Not that the males usually protested, he wryly conceded. A Harpy in heat was most men’s idea of a sexual fantasy. Endless days of aggressive sex with no commitment. And if some men took exception to being treated as a mere stud, the majority found their imprisonment nothing short of paradise.
Santiago, however, wasn’t thinking about sex as the warriors studied him with their stormy gray eyes. Instead he watched them with a wary frown.
“We follow you because you trespass in our territory, vampire,” the tallest of the Harpies said, her voice stirring the thick air.
Nefri took a half step forward, offering a regal bow. “It was not our intention to disturb your nest.”
Continuing to glare in Santiago’s direction, the Harpy appeared unimpressed. “The foul air has disturbed us, sister,” the Harpy said.
“Hey, not my fault,” Santiago muttered.
The closest Harpy held out her hand, a sudden ball of fire dancing just above her palm. “Be quiet, male,” she snarled.
“He speaks the truth,” Nefri smoothly interjected.
“We will decide who speaks the truth,” the taller Harpy informed them, pointing a finger in their direction. “Take them.”
Santiago reached for his sword, only to be halted when Nefri laid a restraining hand on his forearm. “No, Santiago. There’s no need to fight,” she said softly. “I’m certain we can reason with our companions.”
His gaze never wavered from the females, who looked eager for an opportunity to singe him with their fireballs. “They don’t seem to be in the mood to reason,” he growled.
“Which is why we shouldn’t provoke them.”
It was the violent urge to shake her hand off and launch himself at the Harpies that made him hesitate. He could be impulsive, but never in battle. He’d learned long ago the best war was the one never fought.
It had to be the effects of the lingering spell, or whatever the hell was contaminating the air, he grimly acknowledged. Which meant one wrong move and this entire encounter could descend into a bloody massacre that none of them wanted.
“Fine.” With an effort he forced himself to tuck away his dagger, and lifted his hands in surrender. “But don’t blame me if this goes to hell.”
The lead Harpy gestured toward the Harpy at her side. “Charis, take the male to our guest rooms.”
“No,” he snapped, stepping back. “I’m not leaving.”
The Harpy narrowed her stormy eyes. “It wasn’t a request.”
“Santiago.” With a cool brush of her fingers over his cheek, Nefri managed to capture his full attention. “It will be fine. I promise.”
“Dios,” he muttered, knowing he’d been undone by a mere touch. This female was going to be the death of him.
Keeping his gaze on Nefri’s pale, perfect face, Santiago allowed the female Harpy to grab his arm, her wing stroking over his back with an unwelcome intimacy.
“This way, my pretty leech.”
Chapter 7
Only centuries of training allowed Nefri to disguise her flare of fury as Charis tugged Santiago through a curtain of clinging vines and disappeared from sight. How dare the young Harpy attach herself to Santiago like a barnacle. And the way she was rubbing her wings over him . . . it was indecent.
Santiago wasn’t here to become her sex toy.
In fact . . .
With an effort, Nefri squashed the image of grabbing the lovely Charis by her dark hair and shaking her until her teeth rattled. Instead she calmly allowed herself to be led through the brackish water and thick undergrowth, she was only briefly startled when they stepped through a thin barrier of magic to enter a vast parkland that had cement dykes to hold back the swamp and perfectly manicured gardens that bloomed beneath the fading moonlight. In the center, a large wooden structure was suspended off the ground by a dozen sturdy trees and built on several different levels that disappeared among the thick branches.
It was large enough to house at least three dozen Harpies, with room for the communal nursery that traditionally consumed the top floor.
Acutely aware she was being watched by guards hidden among the leaves, Nefri kept her head held high and her pace steady as she was led past the flowering bignonias and pure white lilies. They left the gardens through a high archway and entered a narrow foyer that was lined with panels of glossy oak carved with elaborate designs.
A spiral staircase stood in the middle of the room and three of her companions peeled off to jog up the steep steps, while the remaining two escorted her down the hall to a room at the back of the building.
Halting at the door to stand guard, the two indicated for Nefri to enter.
As if she had a choice?
Refusing to reveal any hint of weakness, she stepped over the threshold and took a quick inventory of her surroundings. It was a large room with an open-beamed ceiling and fur rugs thrown on the wood-planked floor. She didn’t look too closely at the fur, knowing it was more likely the pelt of a demon than an animal. Harpies made very bad enemies.
There were a number of priceless tapestries hung on the walls and the furniture was finely crafted and covered in a pale blue satin.
An elegant room that spoke of authority and yet with enough womanly touches to make it comfortable.
As a female ruler, Nefri appreciated the subtle statement, even as the warrior in her took in the sword leaning in a far corner and the silver letter opener on the desk near the stone fireplace. She also noticed a faint scent of gunpowder that warned there was a gun hidden somewhere nearby.
At last her attention turned toward the female standing in the center of the floor. She was tall with the long, black hair of most Harpies. There were a few silver strands threaded through the darkness, which indicated she was several centuries old, and a hard-fought wisdom in the gray eyes. At the moment she was wearing a plain white gown that was slit down the back to allow room for her wings and wide gold bracelets around her wrists that indicated she was the leader of this particular nest.