Suddenly the hunger that Charis hadn’t been able to stir was charging through him at full throttle, hardening and lengthening his body in all the right places.

Hiding a smile of anticipation, he covertly watched as Nefri strolled into the room, her body stiffening at the sight of the young Harpy running her fingers through his hair.

“Maybe later,” he murmured softly, gently dislodging her fingers and pushing her away. “Can we have some privacy, Charis?”

With yet another toss of her head, Charis headed toward the door, pausing to send a flirtatious smile over her shoulder. “I’ll be in the common rooms if you change your mind.”

Waiting until the Harpy had disappeared down the hallway, Nefri offered Santiago a smile frigid enough to give him frostbite. “Please don’t let me interrupt.”

His lips twitched, his eyes running a slow survey down her rigid body. Even with her jeans covered in swamp muck and her hair tangled, she appeared as regally beautiful as always.

Perhaps it wasn’t so shocking that no other woman could satisfy him. None could possibly compare to this magnificent female.

“Jealous, querida?” he taunted, moving to stand directly in front of her.

“Tired,” she corrected him, clearly hoping that he didn’t notice the way her dark eyes dilated with arousal. “The Matron has kindly extended an invitation for us to remain within her nest until nightfall.”

He was instantly distracted. “Invitation or command?”

“We’re not prisoners if that’s what you’re asking, but dawn is less than an hour away.” She gave a dismissive lift of one shoulder. “It seemed preferable to remain here than to risk being caught without a suitable place to rest.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you’ve come to discuss your decisions with your partner?”

“If you prefer to leave I won’t stop you.”

Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. Not until he had fulfilled his promise to Styx, and more importantly, not until he had this aggravating female well and truly out of his system.

“What I want is an explanation for why the Harpies believe the vampires are infecting the humans.”

Her jaw clenched at his smooth attack, but astonishingly she didn’t try to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. In fact, she met his gaze squarely. “Not vampires,” she said. “Gaius.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yes. I witnessed the human. He’s . . .” Her words broke off with a grimace.

“He’s what?”

She took a few seconds to answer, her composure a brittle facade that was clearly about to shatter. Santiago resisted the urge to tug her into his arms and offer her comfort. Not only was she more likely to slug him as thank him for his efforts, but he needed to know just what the hell was going on.

“He carries violence with him like a plague,” she at last admitted.

“Did you know this was possible?”

“No,” she denied, her sincerity unmistakable. “But we must warn Styx. He’ll need to send his Ravens to track down any infected humans and contain them.”

He made a sound of disbelief. People accused him of being arrogant? He was an amateur compared to Nefri.

“You expect the Anasso to send his personal guard to clean up a mess that the Oracles specifically told him was none of his business?”

“Yes.”

He gave a rueful shake of his head. There was no point in arguing. Styx would agree that the humans had to be halted before they could cause chaos.

“And what do you intend to do?”

She shrugged. “Find Gaius.”

“And his companion?”

Her expression gave nothing away. “If he has one.”

Santiago gave a low hiss. Not just at her refusal to admit exactly what they were facing, but at the growing fear that they were all stumbling in the dark.

Including the Commission.

“I don’t like this.”

She gave a weary shake of her head, stepping around him without warning to move toward the back of the room. “Neither do I.”

With a swift motion he was blocking her path, ignoring the burst of her icy annoyance that crawled over his bare skin, just a breath from true pain.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“I intend to have a shower and then rest for a few hours.”

His earlier fantasies of Nefri in the black and gold bathroom consumed his thoughts, instantly making him as hard as a rock.

“Here?”

“This is the only guest room available.” Her head was held at a proud angle, but she couldn’t disguise her reaction to his blatant arousal. “We’ll have to share.”

“Share?” He chuckled in wicked anticipation.

Chapter 8

Nefri sniffed at her companion’s male pleasure, pretending as if she hadn’t been the one to insist that she share a room with Santiago.

Why give him the satisfaction of knowing she couldn’t bear the thought of him in another woman’s arms while she spent the day alone and aching with unfulfilled desire?

Besides, she hadn’t actually lied.

These were the only guest rooms, although Solaris had offered to have one of the numerous bedrooms belonging to the Harpies cleared for her use. It was ridiculous to put the younglings out of their own beds.

Right?

Turning her head, she avoided the dark promise smoldering in his eyes.

“Can you contact Styx or would you prefer that I speak with him?” she asked, her tone brisk.

He reached to smooth a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I’ll take care of it.”

She shivered beneath his soft caress, a tingling excitement racing through her blood. Oh . . . heavens. It had been so long. So insanely long.

And now the desire that she’d kept locked away for more years than she could remember threatened to turn into an avalanche.

Too fast, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. This is all going too fast.

“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll use the shower first,” she said in a sudden rush. “Once I’m done you can have the bedroom and I’ll use the couch.”

His grin widened as he stepped back and waved a hand toward the connecting door. “It’s all yours, cara.”

Jackass.

She swept regally out of the room and crossed directly to enter the large bathroom.

He’d sensed her growing desire. Just as he sensed the flare of panic at allowing herself to be consumed by the unfamiliar sensations.

And he found it . . . amusing.

Amusing.

She closed the door with emphasis (it wasn’t a slam, dammit) and stripped off her nasty clothes, dropping them into the laundry chute.

Why? Of all the endless males in the world, why was it Santiago who set her on fire?

He was stubborn and arrogant and maddeningly impulsive and . . . so deliciously gorgeous and unapologetically male she didn’t have a chance in hell of resisting, she grudgingly admitted, stepping into the shower and turning on the water.

In the distance she could hear the muffled sound of Santiago’s voice as he spoke on his cell phone, relaying what he’d learned to the Anasso.

Styx would no doubt be aggravated by her refusal to confess all that she knew, but he would do his duty. It’s what a leader did, no matter what their personal feelings.

Stepping beneath the flow of warm water, Nefri thankfully washed away the clinging stench of the swamp, shampooing her long hair before reaching for the soap. Just as her fingers closed around the bottle, the door to the shower was pulled open and a naked Santiago stepped into the large stall.

“Let me,” he murmured, easily removing the bottle from her hand.

“I’m not finished,” Nefri hissed in shock, her gaze lowering against her will to take in Santiago’s hard, perfectly chiseled body.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely against her will, she admitted with a jolt of excitement.

He was . . . magnificent.

Like an exquisite work of art.

The water poured over his bronzed skin, plastering the long raven hair to the smooth muscles of his chest and glistening on the lean beauty of his face.

How was she supposed to resist the temptation to run her fingers, and then her lips, down that sleek male form?

Easily scenting her sharp burst of arousal, he squeezed a dollop of soap into his palm and smiled with a sinful promise. “Good, then I can wash your back,” he offered.

She struggled to think clearly. “I can wash my own back.”

“You were the one who said we had to share.”

“These rooms, not the shower.”

His lips twitched. “Conservation is always a good thing, isn’t it?”

She allowed her gaze to be snared by the dark hunger that smoldered in his eyes. A stupid mistake. Suddenly she understood what it must feel like to drown. The choking heat, the sluggish lack of coordination, the quivering sense something momentous was about to happen.

And worse, she couldn’t find the intelligence to care.

“Santiago . . .”

“Turn around, cara,” he prompted, his voice thick.