He expected her to knock aside his hand; instead she turned smoothly away, offering him a view of her rigid back.

“Levet,” she murmured.

With a smug twitch of his wings, the aggravating pest waddled forward. “Oui, ma chérie?”

“We’re leaving.”

Santiago was moving to block her path before his brain was fully engaged. “Don’t be a fool, Nefri.”

The gargoyle made a choked sound, stepping behind Nefri to avoid being damaged in the crossfire. Not so stupid as Santiago had assumed.

Nefri arched a dark brow, the temperature dropping by several chilling degrees. “Do you think because I’m a female I won’t hurt you?”

His brain jerked back into gear, forcing him to halt and actually consider his words. “I think that you will do anything to prevent another massacre,” he said, not hesitating to use her horror at the brutal slaughter to his advantage. There was no way she was leaving this house without him. Not because Styx had ordered him to discover what was going on with Gaius. Or because he had a score to settle with his sire. But because. That was it. Just because. “Even endure my distasteful company.”

Levet sent Santiago a raspberry, but his expression was resigned as he glanced back at Nefri. “Ma chérie.”

“Yes, I know, Levet,” she said, her words coated in ice, her gaze never wavering from Santiago. “It appears we must be temporary allies.”

“I—”

“Don’t speak,” she overrode his response. “That doesn’t mean I will be treated with anything less than respect. Is that clear?”

He stepped back in her personal space. “The one thing you will always have, cara, is my respect,” he said with a blunt sincerity she couldn’t miss. Even when she was driving him nuts he respected everything about her. Her strength, her intelligence, and her obvious loyalty. “But you’re not my clan chief and I will never take commands from you.”

“Do you take commands from your own chief?” she demanded.

Santiago shrugged. “When I agree with them.”

“I pity Viper.”

“He’s always been pleased with my service.” His gaze skimmed down to her cherry lips. “You would be even more pleased if you would give me the opportunity to service you.”

Something hot and wild flared through her midnight eyes before she was giving a sharp shake of her head and firmly skirting past his large form. “This will never work.”

He muttered a curse as he once again moved to block her path. “Wait.”

Her lips thinned. “For what?”

“A truce.”

Her expression was predictably wary. “I beg your pardon?”

He held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I will try my best not to be excessively annoying and you will treat me as a partner, not your minion.”

“You will halt your crude innuendos?”

“No.”

“Santiago . . .”

“I won’t make promises I can’t keep,” he admitted, knowing his gnawing need to break through her ice wouldn’t allow him to back off. “But I do swear that I’ll do everything in my power to track down Gaius.”

She considered his promise for a long minute. “And your demand that I reveal my private business with the Oracles?”

“Keep it private.” He grimaced. “I have a horrible premonition I’m going to discover for myself why they’ve decided to meddle after standing on the sidelines during the battle against the Dark Lord.”

“Someday that tongue of yours is going to get you in deep trouble,” she smoothly warned.

He snorted. “I’ve been there, done that, and have the scars to prove it.”

Her dark, piercing gaze studied the bitter twist to his lips. “Is there a reason you don’t learn from your mistakes?”

“Survival in the pits means never giving ground, even when the result is a beating.”

“The pits?” A shadow touched her face. “You were a Gladiator?”

His jaw tightened, the memory of the vampires who’d caged him like an animal and forced him to fight for his life every night searing through his mind. “Not by choice.”

“I . . . see,” she said softly, and Santiago had a terrible sensation that she did. More than he wanted. “How long were you forced to fight?”

“Too long,” he said in clipped tones, turning to move down the hallway. “Let’s go.”

Most females would have retreated in fear as the air thickened with his power. Nefri, of course, wasn’t most females. Without seeming effort she was walking at his side, not bothering to hide her curiosity. “Do you ever talk about those days?”

“No.”

“Because they’re too painful?”

He turned to stab her with an annoyed glare. “Do you ever talk about the reason you retreated behind the Veil?”

Her pale features were suddenly wiped of all emotion. “Touché.”

The dungeons of Styx’s lair

Sally wasn’t sure how much time had passed. An hour? Two?

Not that she was in any hurry for her irritating guard to return, she assured herself. He might have the finest butt in the Northern Hemisphere, and the sort of eyes that could make some idiotic women melt, but he was as cold as ice and as smugly superior as every other leech.

Still, she was becoming bored out of her mind stuck in this bleak cell. Not to mention she needed food to replenish her fading strength.

And, with any luck at all the poor schmuck who was stuck playing babysitter to the nasty witch would be a lesser demon.

One she could attempt to use her powers on.

Of course, her luck had been downright shitty over the past few years, so it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when the door to the dungeon opened and she caught the distinctive scent of a powerful male vampire.

Cold steel and ruthless sensuality.

So much for a lesser demon.

Roke was as lethal as they came.

Crap.

She halted her pacing near the door of the cell, her heart missing a painful beat as he stepped into view. She told herself that it was fear. What female in her right mind wouldn’t be terrified at the sight of a demon who could kill her between one breath and the next?

It certainly had nothing to do with the stark male beauty of his perfectly chiseled face, or the haunting mystery of his strange silver eyes.

No. Nothing at all.

And to make certain she wouldn’t be so stupid as to forget the beautiful creature was anything but her enemy, Roke approached the door of her cell with a dark scowl. Clearly he’d pissed off Styx and was serving some sort of penance. With her as his punishment.

“Stand away from the door,” he commanded, holding a tray in his hands filled with plates of hamburgers, fries, a chocolate shake, Buffalo wings, and deep-fried apple pie.

She planted her hands on her hips, telling herself she wasn’t hurt by the vampire’s barely concealed disdain. What the hell did she care? He was nothing but a . . . a member of the walking dead.

Okay, he was gorgeous and there was a bad boy vibe that some females might find fascinating, but right now she wanted nothing more than to kick him in the nuts.

“What do you think I’m going to do?” she mocked. “The hexes prevent me from using my magic. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m half your size.”

His gaze slid down her slender curves, a muscle knotting in his jaw as he jerked his stare back to her face. Was he repulsed by her less than voluptuous shape?

Well, screw him.

“I never underestimate an enemy,” he retorted. “Especially when they appear helpless.”

“Enemy?” She offered a humorless smile. “I came here to help, in case you’ve forgotten, you ass. So exactly when did I become your enemy?”

“When you tried to unleash the Dark Lord and his minions,” he retorted without hesitation.

She hunched a shoulder, wondering just how long she was going to have to pay for that unfortunate decision.

“I didn’t have any choice,” she muttered.

“You were forced?”

“It was the only way to survive—”

“An easy excuse,” he interrupted her with cold disapproval. “But then I would expect nothing else of a witch.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Magic is a cheat against everything that is natural. An abomination.”

“Hey, don’t feel like you have to hold back,” she rasped, acting as if she didn’t give a damn what he thought of her. He wasn’t the first, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last to hate her for no good reason. “What do the feelings of a witch matter?”

Something flared in his silver eyes. Regret? Guilt?

Yeah, and pigs could fly.

Emphasizing his absolute “I don’t give a shit” attitude, he made a sound of utter boredom. “Do you want to eat or not?”

Every fiber of her being wanted to tell him to shove the tray of food up his ass. Thankfully the empty growl of her stomach prevented her pride from overcoming common sense.