“Queen?” Raith asked. “I thought the Commission was a democracy?”
“So they claim. We each have a vote, but the majority of the Oracles have allowed themselves to be castrated by their fear of Siljar.” There was another stirring of the fog. “They have become nothing more than a committee of ass-kissers.”
“And you would prefer that they kiss your ass?”
Of course he did.
He’d always lusted for power, but more than that, he lusted for the respect and admiration of others.
Someday, he silently promised himself.
But not today.
“I would prefer that she would bring an end to our tedious gathering,” he answered. The Oracles had been called during the King of Vampires’ battle with the King of Weres, but as one disaster had followed another, they’d been forced to remain and contain the damage. “So long as we’re stuck in these caves my every move is being monitored.”
Raith frowned. “Do you think she is suspicious?”
“Of course not,” Brandel swiftly denied. “She is merely drunk on her own power.”
“You had better pray to our god you are right. We both have much to lose if we are discovered.”
Dammit. Brandel didn’t need to be told what they risked.
“You take care of your end of the business and I’ll take care of mine,” he snapped, mind to mind.
“Very well. Your end of the business is tracking the spell and determining if it is a threat to us,” Raith swiftly countered, faint vibrations humming in the air. “Understood?”
Did he have a choice?
“Yes.”
Raith chuckled. “I always enjoy our little chats.”
Roke frowned as Sally paced the small bedroom, her movements jerky and her face paler than normal.
It wasn’t unusual for her to be agitated when he was around.
They’d been striking sparks off one another from the beginning.
In more ways than one.
But this was more . . .
He could sense a true fear that she was desperately trying to hide behind a pretense of anger.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” he at last demanded.
She halted, her glare shifting to the box he held in his hands.
“We don’t even know if this box has anything to do with me or my father.”
“Do you have a better lead to follow?”
Her lips tightened. “No.”
“Then you have nothing to lose in coming to Nevada with me.”
She looked less than impressed by his logic.
“The last time I trusted the word of a vampire I ended up in the dungeons.”
Thanks a butt-load, Styx, he silently chastised his king.
The Anasso’s decision to toss Sally in his formidable prison had made certain she had a perfectly legitimate excuse not to trust the vampires.
“I live in the middle of the desert.” He offered a teasing smile. “My only dungeon is a nearby gold mine. You could strike it rich while you were down there.”
She gave a humorless laugh. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
Roke took a cautious step forward. She was twitchy enough to bolt if he wasn’t careful.
“What are you afraid of, Sally?”
She scowled at the soft question. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
He shook his head, his fingers lifting to press against the pulse thundering at the base of her throat.
“You know better than to try and lie to a vampire. Even if I wasn’t bonded to you I could detect the increased beat of your heart and catch the scent of adrenaline.” His fingers lightly traced the faint shadow of her jugular vein, his fangs aching for a taste. “Of course, I could be mistaken.”
“You mistaken?” she tried to mock. “Shocking.”
He cupped the side of her face, the satin heat of her skin against his palm a sensation he could easily become addicted to.
“It could be lust,” he murmured, his gaze lowering to the sensual curve of her lips. “And I know the perfect remedy.”
“Fine.” She pulled away from his touch, but not before Roke caught the intoxicating scent of her arousal. “Vampires hate witches.”
With an effort, Roke allowed her to retreat. It was so very tempting to haul her into his arms and seduce her into soft, melting compliance.
It might even work for a few hours.
But he wasn’t so vain as to think that getting her into bed would earn her trust.
Hell, she’d probably use it as another reason to push him away.
“How many times do I have to promise I will do whatever necessary to keep you safe?” he instead asked, holding her wary gaze.
“From your own clan?”
“So long as you’re under my protection they wouldn’t dare hurt you.”
“Even if they believe I have you trapped in a spell? Come on, Roke.” She shuddered, as if imagining the horror of being ravaged by crazed vampires. “They would kill me in a heartbeat if they thought it was for your own good.”
His lips parted only to snap shut.
Shit.
She had a point.
His clan had spent far too long beneath the rule of a chief who’d been more concerned with pleasing his demanding mate than caring for his people. For over a century they’d floundered, so weakened that they’d nearly lost everything before Roke had traveled to the battles of Durotriges to earn the right to become a chief.
That’s why he’d been so infuriated by the magical bonding. He’d already made the decision that his mate would be a rational, loyal female who would dedicate herself to the good of his people.
And why his clan was unreasonably overprotective of him.
They were going to be on the warpath when they discovered he’d been bound by a witch.
“I’ll speak with them,” he promised.
“And tell them what?” she rasped, her hands clenched. “A nasty witch who used to work for the Dark Lord forced a mating on their beloved clan chief. Yeah, that should go over well. They’ll be standing in line for the pleasure of killing me.”
His growl rumbled through the room. “So what do you suggest? That we aimlessly run around the world in the hope that we stumble across your father?”
“You can take the box back to Nevada and I can stay here and question the locals.” She shrugged. “Someone must have known my mother.”
“No.”
She blinked, meeting his ruthless silver gaze with an audible huff of annoyance.
“That’s it? Just, no?”
“We stay together.”