Even if their bite was orgasmic.
Now she was shaking with the need to feel those fangs sliding through her tender flesh.
“And you promise not to disappear again?” he demanded, his hands slipping beneath her sweatshirt.
She shuddered, struggling to think through the haze of lust clouding her mind.
“Not unless I believe it’s absolutely necessary.”
He made a sound of resignation. “Have you always been so stubborn?”
“Have you always been so arrogant?”
He pressed a hard, hungry kiss to her lips. “Yes.”
Chapter Two
Roke felt Sally tremble, her fingers tangled in his hair as her body arched against him.
A groan was wrenched from his throat. Christ, the very air was scented with her desire.
But even as his hands skimmed beneath her sweatshirt to find the soft curve of her bare breasts, she pulled back with a startled gasp.
“Roke . . . stop.”
He hissed, burying his face in the soft cloud of her windswept hair.
“You’re my mate.”
“No.” She sucked in a shaky breath, her eyes dark with a need she couldn’t hide. “It’s an illusion.”
He lowered his hand from the temptation of her breast, but he kept his arms firmly around her.
She wasn’t going to disappear again.
Not even if he had to handcuff her to his side.
He swallowed a low growl.
Having Sally and handcuffs in the same thought wasn’t doing a damned thing to help him gain control of his raging libido.
“It doesn’t feel like an illusion, does it, my love?” he murmured.
“It’s not real.” She licked her lips. “It can’t be real.”
Logically Roke agreed.
Physically? Not so much.
His body was ready and eager to accept that she was created to be in his arms.
His gaze shifted to the tempting curve of her neck, his fangs aching with a savage instinct to mark her as his own.
A damned shame that Styx had warned taking Sally’s blood might very well turn the mating from a magical illusion to a bond that couldn’t be broken.
Battling against his primitive urges, Roke was distracted by the whiff of granite as the gargoyle waddled back into view, his wings shimmering in the moonlight.
“I see the two of you have kissed and made up.”
He sent the pest an annoyed glare. “Go away, gargoyle.”
“No.” Sally shoved out of his arms, her face flushed and her eyes still dazed with their mutual lust. “He can help search the cottage for clues.”
His brows snapped together. “You run from me, but you’ll ask a three-foot gargoyle for help?”
She met his fierce disbelief without flinching. “Unlike vampires, gargoyles are sensitive to magic. He might find something that I’ve missed.”
“Oui, I am very sensitive.” Levet turned toward Roke, sticking out his tongue. “It is the reason women find me irresistible.”
With a flick of his tail, Levet waddled toward the cottage. Roke clenched his hands.
So much for a little one on one time with Sally.
“Shit, that gargoyle needs a muzzle,” he muttered.
“He’s not the only one,” Sally informed him, turning to follow the tiny demon into the cottage.
Roke briefly hesitated.
If he had any sense he’d get on his motorcycle and never look back.
Sally was right.
Magic was a vampire’s true weakness.
There was nothing he could do when it came to breaking the spell that bound them together. Why not head back to his lair in Nevada and wait for Sally to contact him when she had the means to break the mating?
But the thought had barely time to form before it was forgotten as he headed into the cottage.
He’d spent three hellish weeks chasing after his witch.
Until the bond was broken, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight.
Entering through the back door, he passed through the small mudroom that opened into a large kitchen equipped for a witch, not a chef.
There was a massive, stone fireplace with a cast-iron cauldron hanging over a pile of wood. The open rafters were lined with bronze pans and bundles of dried herbs. And in the center of the floor, a circle had been carved into the flagstones that was large enough for two or three witches to sit in without touching.
He followed the scent of peaches into the main room of the cottage, discovering Levet flitting around the sparsely furnished space and Sally standing beside the empty fireplace, her spine rigid.
He grimaced, assuming she was trying to give him the cold shoulder. Then, slowly he realized it wasn’t annoyance she was feeling.
It was a dull, bitter pain he could feel through their bond.
With two long strides he was standing at her side, gently tucking her hair behind her ear so he could study her pale profile.
“There’s something here that bothers you?”
“You could say that.” Her lips twisted as her gaze lingered on the scorched mark on the wall. “This is the precise spot where my mother tried to kill me.”
The image of a young Sally lying lifeless on the floor seared through Roke’s mind and he struggled to contain his burst of fury. His temper had the unfortunate effect of destroying the structural integrity of any building he happened to be standing near.
Instead he concentrated on the pleasant knowledge that Sally’s mother had died a painful, probably even gruesome death at the hands of a fellow vampire.
Levet crossed the room to study Sally with a sympathetic expression on his ugly face.
“Why would your mother try to kill you?”
Sally shivered. “She didn’t know my father was a demon. Not until my sixteenth birthday when my powers started to kick in.” She gave a humorless laugh. “It was an unpleasant surprise, to say the least.”
“Ah. My mother tried to kill me as well.” Levet shrugged. “Families are always difficult.”
Sally managed a small smile that didn’t disguise the wounds that festered in her heart.
“She’s dead,” she said in grim tones. “She can’t hurt me anymore.”
Roke’s fingers brushed her cheek. “No one is going to hurt you.”
She awkwardly stepped away, her expression wary.
Despite their bond she still didn’t trust him.
Hell, the woman had been taught she couldn’t trust anyone.
“My mother’s room is this way,” she muttered, leading them out of the front parlor down a short hallway.
Pushing the door open, she stepped aside as the gargoyle entered the small bedroom and began investigating the dust-coated furnishings.