A male had forced his way into Sally’s room. He’d put his hands on her. And then, he had the balls to try and take her away.

Roke would see him in hell first.

Headed toward the open window, he was momentarily distracted by the faint scent of blood. Lowering himself to his knees, he discovered a small red stain on the carpet.

The ceiling cracked and the drywall crumbled as his fury went nuclear.

“Goddammit,” he snarled. “I’ll kill him.”

Wise enough not to startle a vampire on the edge of murder, Styx cautiously hunkered down beside him, his voice soothing. “Roke, it’s only a drop. She’s not badly hurt.”

“Yet.”

Styx grimaced. “Why the hell would he take her?”

“I intend to find out,” Roke muttered, shoving himself upright and through the window in one smooth motion.

Behind him Styx blistered the air with curses, but Roke never slowed as he hit the ground and followed the scent of peaches through the moonlight that spilled over the manicured parkland.

Reaching the back gate, he caught the smell of yet another male vampire. This one laced with an unmistakable rot of madness.

Gaius?

Not that he gave a shit.

The need to rescue Sally was thundering through his veins, leaving no room for logical thought or strategies.

But as he stepped through the open gate, he was forced to an enraged halt.

The trail ended.

Just like that.

There one step and gone the next.

He tilted back his head to roar with a savage frustration, indifferent to the scamper of terrified wildlife that darted into the nearby woods.

The sound was still echoing through the trees when Jagr and two of his Ravens appeared from around the corner of the high fence.

“Where is he?” Roke demanded.

Looking every inch the Visigoth chief, Jagr clutched a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other. Not that either was as dangerous as the lethal fangs that were primed for maximum damage.

“I don’t know.” The ice blue gaze continued to scan the woods that provided privacy for Styx’s lair from his distant neighbors. “I caught a glimpse of him going through the back gate, but before I could get here he’d disappeared.”

“Sally?” he managed to rasp between clenched teeth.

Jagr dipped his head. “The witch was with him.”

Styx stepped through the gate, studying the tracks that halted directly in front of them. “Gaius must have used his medallion,” he said before turning his attention to Roke. “Can you sense Sally?”

Struggling against his primitive instincts that rebelled at wasting even a second, Roke forced himself to close his eyes and concentrate on his mating bond. It was there. Oddly . . . muffled. As if something was trying to mask her presence from him. But there was no mistaking his sense of her just a few miles north of them.

“It’s muted, but she’s not far,” he said, opening his eyes to watch Jagr and Styx exchange a startled glance.

“Is the medallion limited in how far it can carry more than one person?” the large Visigoth asked.

Styx shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Then why—” Jagr bit off his words as there was an unmistakable shift in the air pressure before the scent of granite filled the air. “Shit.”

The male vampires turned, their expressions varying from resignation to outright disgust as Levet seemed to step from thin air, closely followed by Yannah.

Either unaware, or just indifferent, to his frigid reception, the tiny gargoyle gave a violent flutter of his wings, his tail standing at stiff attention.

“Mon dieu”, he breathed, clearly frazzled. “I hate traveling that way.”

With a superior smile that all females perfected before leaving the cradle, Yannah smoothed the sleeve of her long white robe. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“A baby?” Levet puffed out his chest, looking more like a bantam chicken than a fearsome gargoyle. “Why I—”

“Levet, is there a purpose for your unexpected visit?” Styx said as he sternly broke into the brewing squabble.

Levet immediately forgot his grievances and waddled toward the King of Vampires, his expression troubled. “Nefri.”

There was a collective mutter of unease as Styx glared down at the gargoyle.

The mystique of Nefri was great enough that the mere thought that she was anything less than impervious to danger was . . . troublesome.

“What about her?” Styx demanded.

“When Gaius kidnapped Tonya she knew that Gaius was plotting to use Santiago.”

Styx grimaced. “And she was right?”

“Oui.” Levet hunched his shoulders, his ugly features scrunched in distress. “We traveled to Gaius’s lair and Nefri asked me to stay hidden so I would know what was occurring. She wanted to make sure I could go for help in the event that things went . . .” He waved his hands as words failed him.

“To hell?” Styx offered.

The gargoyle nodded. “To hell.”

Clever of Nefri to make certain they could be warned, Roke silently acknowledged, but his shattering need to return to his hunt for Sally made him growl deep in his throat. Only the thought that the gargoyle might have some necessary clue to his mate’s rescue kept him from charging through the darkness alone.

As if sensing his burning frustration, Styx reached to place a hand on his shoulder even as his gaze remained trained on the tiny demon. “What does Gaius want with Santiago?”

Levet wrinkled his snout. “He pretended he desired a reconciliation, but all he truly desired was for Santiago to sneak into your lair for the witch.”

“Sally?” Roke stepped forward, his fierce intensity making Levet take a hasty step backward and Yannah move to the gargoyle’s side as if to offer her protection. “Why?”

“She’s the only one who can destroy some spell around a book,” he hurriedly admitted, his hands rising in a gesture of peace. “I do not know any more, I swear.”

“Do you think it could be the same book?” Styx muttered in astonishment.

Roke wasn’t listening.

He didn’t believe in coincidences.

Which meant he knew exactly where to find his missing witch.

The warehouse.

The warehouse north of Chicago

Over the years Sally had devoted a ridiculous amount of energy to avoiding a gruesome death.

Ever since her sweet sixteenth birthday it didn’t matter where she went or how quietly she tried to live, there was always someone or something that wanted her dead.

So she wasn’t sure why she felt so betrayed to find herself being kidnapped by a strange vampire and taken to Gaius, who was clearly even more demented than the last time she’d caught sight of him.

Surely the only surprise should have been if she hadn’t been betrayed?

Still, she found herself glaring at the handsome vampire with the beauty of a Spanish conquistador and the aloof, stunningly beautiful vampire who stood in the corner like a freaking ice princess. As if she could make them feel guilty.

Yeah, and she was destined to win the lottery.

With a shake of her head, she turned her attention to her surroundings, feeling a stab of confusion as she realized they were in the same warehouse where Roke had taken her.

What the hell?

Somehow she’d assumed when Gaius had used his medallion to take them away from Styx’s lair they would end up more than a few miles from the dangerous Anasso.

But then again, maybe he wanted her close. Didn’t the ancient generals stick the heads of their hostages on a pike as a warning to their enemies? Gaius would want her mutilated body close enough so it couldn’t be missed.

Wrapping her arms around her body, she at last turned to confront the vampire who had so briefly been her commander.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

Holy crap.

She’d wished bad things on Gaius. She might even have said a prayer or two that the arrogant SOB wouldn’t survive the battle with the Dark Lord. But allowing her stunned gaze to drift down his gaunt frame covered with clothes a zombie wouldn’t be seen dead in (yeah, really bad pun) and his eyes glowing with a hectic light, she had to admit that he looked like he’d been through worse than even she had hoped for.

He looked . . . pathetic.

Of course, she wasn’t stupid. Even pathetic and batty as hell, he was a lethal predator.

One who could kill her with one strike of his massive fangs.

Licking her dry lips, she considered a number of spells she could lob at the vampire, only to discard them. Most of them were ineffective against the walking dead. Besides, she needed to conserve her strength until her enemy was distracted.

That way she could potentially use her powers to escape.

She wasn’t a go-down-in-a-blaze-of-glory kind of gal. She preferred a run-like-hell-and-live-to-f ight-another-day philosophy.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind, she held herself perfectly still as Gaius prowled forward, slowly circling her as if he’d never seen her before.

“Hello, Gaius. Long time no see,” she said as she at last broke the thick silence, as always her nerves making her babble like an idiot.