Flowers, ceramic pots filled with fresh honey, carved wooden figurines, and exquisite golden jewelry set with priceless gems had been left behind.
“What the hell?”
Sally quickly scrubbed herself clean with the hot water and soap that Roke had prepared, telling herself that she didn’t care if it was the first time anyone had ever considered her comfort. Had he scented the water with dried lavender? No . . . it didn’t matter.
Just as it didn’t matter that her body still tingled with the pleasure of his skillful touch.
He was an ass.
First clouding her mind with his deceitful-sneaky-vampire seduction and then leaping off the bed as if she were carrying the plague.
Pulling on her clothes, she suddenly blushed.
Okay, maybe he hadn’t actually seduced her. She recalled being a fairly willing participant.
Still, there’d been no reason to insult her.
Not unless he was afraid that she might start to believe this mating was real.
Two souls eternally entwined . . .
It was that humiliating thought that had given her the ability to face him with a composure she was far from feeling.
She’d be damned if she would let him know how easily he could wound her.
Fully dressed, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and grabbed the music box. Then, extinguishing the candles, she made her exit by the more mundane method of the steps built into the cement wall.
Crawling over the edge of the hole, she straightened, startled to discover that Roke was standing nearby, his gaze trained on the edge of the clearing.
She’d expected him to be out doing . . . what?
Vampire things.
Hunting. Sucking blood. Pissing off witches.
Instantly on alert, she moved to his side, at last catching sight of strange objects.
“Blessed goddess, where did those come from?”
The ground trembled with his power. He obviously wasn’t pleased with the strange gifts.
Giving her a warning glance to stay put, he moved to walk around the pile of flowers and pots and . . . good Lord . . . was that jewelry?
“It came from the fey,” he murmured, his hand reaching to grasp a delicate necklace spun from strands of gold and sprinkled with shimmering opals.
Naturally she ignored his warning, walking to join him. “Why?”
He gave her a frustrated glare before shaking his head.
“I don’t—”
She studied the pure, elegant lines of his profile shown to perfection in the moonlight.
“Roke?”
“A tribute.”
“A what?” She glanced toward the pile that was clearly filled with items that would be precious to any fey. Why would they leave a tribute here? “Oh.” She was struck by inspiration. “Could this be a holy site?”
Roke straightened, dropping the necklace back onto the pile. “It’s possible.”
Translation: He didn’t believe for a minute this was a holy site.
She absently rubbed her inner arm, an unconscious habit she’d developed since the mating mark appeared.
“Tell me what’s bothering you.”
He turned to meet her worried gaze, his eyes glowing silver in the darkness.
“It could be for some fey deity, or it could be for the box. Or—”
She grimaced. “I’m not going to like this ‘or,’ am I?”
His expression was grim. “Or for you.”
She was shaking her head before the words left his lips. “No.”
With a frown he reached out his hand, cupping her cheek with his slender fingers.
“Sally, it’s dangerous to stick your head in the sand.”
She brushed away his fingers, aggravated as much by her heart-jolting response to his touch as by his implication that she was being deliberately obtuse.
She had enough problems without being accused of being some sort of fey-magnet.
“In case you’ve forgotten, I used to live here.” She waved her hand toward the nearby trees. “I played in these woods for years without being inundated with fairy gifts.”
His expression remained stern. “You left the night your powers manifested.”
She shuddered. She didn’t need a reminder of the night she’d been driven from her home.
“So what?”
“They had no opportunity to sense your true nature.”
Her lips parted only to snap shut.
Damn.
She couldn’t deny he had a point.
Like most mongrels her demon blood hadn’t started to show itself until she hit puberty. Which meant that it hadn’t been until her mother had sliced her palm with a knife to perform a simple spell that anyone realized she was anything but human.
“You think I might be a fairy?”
His brooding gaze shifted to take in the glorious highlights that shimmered like flames in her hair.
“I think there’s something about you that the fairies consider worth risking dangerous spells and the unmistakable scent of a vampire to leave these gifts.”
She took an abrupt step away from the priceless treasures, a sharp fear piercing her heart.
“No . . . it’s not me,” she rasped, holding up her hand so she could wave the box beneath Roke’s nose. “It has to be this.”
He studied her a long moment, easily sensing she was on the edge.
“If that’s true, then we need to meet with Cyn so he can decipher the glyphs. It’s the only way we’ll get the answers we need,” he said, his tone so reasonable that she began to nod her head in agreement.
Abruptly realizing she’d been cleverly manipulated, she sent him a frustrated glare.
“You’re like a dog with a bone.”
He stepped forward, wrapping her in a swirl of frigid power.
“Sally, if I wanted to force you to return to the vampires we both know that I could.”
She flattened her lips at the blunt words. They were all too true.
And as much as she hated to admit she needed help, she wasn’t an idiot.
Whether it was the box or herself that was attracting weird Miera demons and oddly generous fey, she had to make it stop.
How could she search for clues to her father when she was dodging near-death experiences?
“Fine.” She hid her surge of dread behind a stoic mask. “How far is it?”
“A few miles south of here.” He scowled, as if annoyed by her brittle tone.
Why? He’d gotten his way, hadn’t he?
“Does a few miles mean five or fifty?”
“Less than twenty.” He held her wary gaze. “We can travel faster if I carry you.”
She sucked in a startled breath. She might be pissed at the annoying vampire, but that didn’t keep him from being ridiculously gorgeous.