“Is something wrong?” she asked, discreetly removing her hand from his grasp to lean against the dirt wall of the tunnel.
“This is the end of the tunnel,” Roke said, tilting back his head to study the narrow opening directly over him. “There’s an empty building above us.”
She pressed a hand to the stitch in her side. “You’re sure it’s empty?”
“Yes.”
“Thank god,” she muttered. “How far are we from the house?”
He paused, glancing back down the tunnel. “A few miles.”
“I suppose it will have to do.”
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to straighten from the wall. She’d barely taken a step forward, however, when Roke was standing directly in front of her, his hands rubbing up and down her arms.
“Let me go first; I want to make sure it’s safe,” he said.
Her heart skipped a beat as she met the pale silver gaze. There were the yummy flutters in the pit of her stomach at his touch, but more than that, there was a sense of . . . rightness.
As if she knew his touch from another time, another place.
“No,” she said, the curt rejection as much for her ridiculous thoughts as his offer.
Jeez. Talk about Stockholm syndrome. Next she would be fantasizing she was his mate.
Almost as if sensing her stupid thoughts, he leaned down to brush his lips over her furrowed brow. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
“Roke.” She grasped the lapels of his leather coat. “Please listen to me.”
His lips skimmed down the length of her nose before nibbling at the edge of her mouth. “Later, my love.”
Her fingers tightened on his jacket, wanting to jerk him even closer so he could kiss her properly. Heck, they were alone in the dark and for the moment they seemed safe enough. Why not enjoy a quick . . .
Wait.
What was she thinking?
“No,” she rasped. “I have to talk to you now.”
He lifted his head, but he remained close enough so that she could see the flash of his fully extended fangs even in the thick shadows. It should have reminded her that he was a lethal predator. Instead all she could think about was the fact he was obviously as aroused as she was.
“What is it?” he asked, the rough edge in his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.
Oh, she needed to get away from this man.
Before she did something truly stupid.
“I want you to return to the house.”
He stilled, his expression almost impossible to read in the darkness. “Did you leave something behind?”
She made a sound of self-disgust. “My sanity.”
“Sally?” He gently slid a hand beneath her hair to massage her nape. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Like she knew?
For a panicked minute her mind refused to work. She had to get rid of him so she could release her fading binding spell and hopefully have enough juice left to activate her hidden amulet. That should disguise her presence long enough to escape the area.
But how?
“We can’t outrun Styx’s guards, not while my magic is on the fritz,” she finally managed to blurt out.
“Once we’re out of the tunnels your magic will return.”
“Maybe or maybe not.” She shuddered as his hand continued to soothe her tense muscles. “I need you to distract them long enough for me to escape.”
“Without me?” His brows drew together. “Never.”
“Once I’m far enough away I’ll contact you and you can join me.”
“No.”
“Roke,” she protested his stubborn refusal to obey.
Obviously her spell was rapidly losing its grip on him. And worse, she was growing weaker with every passing second.
“I won’t leave you,” he said grimly. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, because I’ll be with you.”
Suddenly it was all too much. “Damn,” she groaned, sliding down until her butt hit the dirt floor. “I’m too tired to fight.”
Roke squatted in front of her, his expression concerned. “Rest here. I’ll make sure the path is clear.”
“Roke . . .”
“Close your eyes, little witch,” he murmured, brushing a finger over her chilled cheek. “I’ll keep you safe.”
If only that were true, she thought with a twinge of wistful longing.
If only this man did want to keep her safe.
Not because of some spell, but because he thought she was worth saving.
“You’re so stupid, Sally,” she whispered as he pressed his hands against the floor and with one impressive shove was launching himself up and through the opening above. “Stupid and downright pathetic. You’re going to end up dead in this tunnel and no one is going to give a damn.”
It took Roke less than five minutes to scout through the empty house. It was obviously one of Styx’s numerous safe houses that were used only in emergencies.
As he had told Sally, the Anasso was nothing if not thorough.
Sally.
Roke came to a halt in the middle of the never-used kitchen. What the hell? With a sharp shake of his head he felt the urgent, driving need to rescue the beautiful witch from his brothers slowly fade.
Like a fog was being lifted from his mind.
He clenched his hands at his side, his fangs lengthening.
He vividly remembered going to the dungeons with a dinner tray. He’d entered the cell and tried to convince Sally to confess the truth of Gaius’s strange new talents.
And then . . .
And then he’d been overwhelmed by a potent desire to do whatever was necessary to protect the woman who was his sole reason for living.
Goddammit.
The bitch had hit him with a spell.
There could be no other explanation.
Why else would he have suddenly been filled with an unshakable conviction she was his? Not just a pretty female he desired. But his. On a most primitive level.
Hell, even now he could . . . feel her. As if their very souls were entwined.
And worse, she had forced him to sacrifice everything, even loyalty to his people, to keep her safe.
Of all things, that was the one act he could never, ever forgive or forget.
He’d taken a vow when he became clan chief that he would always put his people first. How could he offer them anything less? The previous chief had nearly destroyed them all by his obsession with a female who’d demanded he pamper her every whim.
Now he’d been forced to follow in the footsteps of the man he’d hated.