Why?

His lips twisted with a rueful smile.

He wanted to claim it was because she’d bound him with her magic. After all, it was far less disturbing to believe the constant awareness that was nagging at him was a spell rather than something far more dangerous.

Instead he blamed his refusal to do his duty on the growing suspicion that there were forces swirling around Laylah and her mysterious baby that might directly impact the future.

There was a frigid breeze as a vampire of considerable strength neared and with a deliberate motion he tucked the dagger into the waistband of his khakis and held up his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Uriel?” he called softly, having met Victor’s second in command nearly three centuries before.

On cue a tall vampire with a halo of brown curls and large brown eyes stepped into view.

A cynical smile curved Tane’s lips at the air of guileless youth that shrouded about Uriel in his faded jeans and casual T-shirt. His deceptively angelic appearance had been the downfall of many an enemy. And one that Tane had never been stupid enough to make.

Although …

He frowned, realizing that the younger vampire’s power had increased significantly since their last encounter.

Strange. Usually a vampire developed to their full potential mere years after their turning. He’d never heard of one acquiring more power centuries after maturing from their foundling stage.

A mystery, but not one he had time to dwell upon.

Not when Uriel was fondling a sword that could cut the head off a troll.

“We had no warning the Charon was traveling to London,” Uriel said, his bland tone not disguising his aversion to Tane’s presence.

Tane shrugged, inured to the less than warm greeting.

His brothers either feared him or loathed him.

None of them wanted to be BFFs.

“I’m not here in my official capacity.”

Uriel didn’t look comforted. “You’re here on vacation?”

“Not exactly. I must speak with Victor.” Tane reached out with his senses, his brows pulling together as he belatedly realized that he should have been able to sense Victor’s power signature by now. Unlike Viper, the Chicago clan chief, the big cheese of London was never subtle. His presence was like a sledgehammer. “He’s not in London,” he absently murmured. “He’s traveled north.”

Uriel’s fingers twitched on the hilt of his sword at Tane’s unconscious display of his talent.

He was a Charon who could find his prey with unerring skill.

“Victor was forced to travel to Dublin to meet with Lansbury, the current Prince of Fairies,” he grudgingly confessed.

“Trouble?”

“There are whispers among the fey that there have been sightings of Sylvermyst.”

“Impossible.” Tane instinctively denied the nasty possibilities. The Sylvermyst were the distant cousins of the fey with a taste for evil that made vampires seem like boy scouts. “They were banished centuries ago along with the Dark Lord.”

“So were any number of creatures who’ve managed to make unwelcomed appearances over the past year,” Uriel said dryly.

Tane grimaced. “True enough.”

With a sudden motion, Uriel whirled the sword over his head and shoved it into a leather sheath strapped to his back. “Why are you here, Tane?”

More amused than offended by his companion’s blunt approach, Tane smiled.

“Obviously Victor didn’t hire you for your diplomatic skills.”

“He hired me to keep peace.” Uriel’s jaw tightened. “Something that’s been difficult enough lately without tossing a Charon into the mix.”

Tane flicked a brow upward. He sympathized with Uriel’s predicament. The growing unrest throughout the demon world was a bitch for everyone. But he was here with a purpose and no one was standing in his path.

“Are you trying to imply I’m unwelcomed?”

“Having you here is like throwing gasoline on a smoldering fire.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t control your peeps,” Tane mocked. “Peeps?”

“Minions? Flunkies? Sycophants?”

Uriel made a sound of impatience. “Our minions aren’t the only ones who are restless. It feels like the entire world is sitting on a powder keg. Your arrival …” Uriel bit off his words, shock widening his eyes. “What the hell? Is that a Jinn? And gargoyle?” He glanced over Tane’s shoulder. “Shit, do you have a death wish? Victor is going to kill you.”

“Many have tried.” Tane stepped forward, done with the polite chitchat. He needed to get Laylah to safety. “I seek asylum. Will you offer it?”

“As if I have a choice,” Uriel muttered. “Styx has commanded that his Charons be given whatever they request. That’s a pretty big trump card to carry around.”

Tane curled back his lips to flash his fangs. “I have bigger.”

“Fine,” the younger vampire grudgingly conceded. “You can stay in the dungeons.”

“Uriel …”

“Hear me out.”

Tane narrowed his gaze. “Talk fast.”

“As I’ve said, the natives have been rumbling and it’s my duty to keep complete chaos from erupting,” Uriel pointed out. “The dungeons are wrapped in illusions and protected by hexes. It should keep your presence in London concealed. At least until Victor returns.”

“And an effective means of locking me in an inescapable cell.”

Uriel’s sharp laugh echoed through the cramped tunnel. “And risk the wrath of our Anasso?”

Tane allowed his power to bite through the air. “Styx’s wrath would be the least of your worries.”

“Bloody hell, I got it.” Uriel held up a hand. “Trust me.”

Tane shoved aside his initial reaction and forced himself to consider the suggestion. He truly didn’t fear that Uriel would try and trap a Charon. Despite his skirmish in the cave, few vampires were that stupid. And the dungeons would offer Laylah the concealment she so desperately needed.

For now he could put aside his massive pride.

“I suppose they would provide a temporary protection. Are there any prisoners?”

“Not currently.”

He nodded, his decision made. “I want a room with suitable comforts.” “Of course.”

A sudden smile curved his mouth. “And privacy.” “Privacy?”

“Thick walls, convenient chains on the wall, soundproof privacy.”

Uriel’s expression was unreadable. “I assume you’ll be sharing the room with the Jinn?”

Oh, he intended to share more than a room with the Jinn.

He’d been suffering with a primitive need to claim Laylah from the moment he’d caught her scent in the tunnels. Now his all consuming need threatened to overwhelm everything, including his sense of self-preservation.

He had to get her in his bed.

And soon.

“I will.”

“And the gargoyle?” Uriel demanded.

Tane shrugged. Laylah was done babysitting the obnoxious little demon. Even if she didn’t know it yet.

“That’s your call, although I highly suggest the bottom of the Thames.”

Uriel shuddered. “Why do I have a nasty suspicion that I’m acquainted with this particular gargoyle?”

Laylah glanced uneasily over her shoulder, cursing Tane for abandoning her in the dank tunnels.

With every passing second her scent was spreading through London, attracting demons like a homing beacon. The knowledge was making her itch. As if there was a pair of unseen eyes watching her from the dark.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, her arms were beginning to ache from carrying the unconscious Levet.

It was like toting around a cement truck.

Thankfully, just when she was considering the possibility of finding her own shelter, she watched as Tane stepped out of a side tunnel along with a tall vampire with the face of an angel.

“Laylah. This is Uriel.” Tane moved to stand at her side. “Victor’s second in command.”

Uriel’s gaze remained averted, as if he couldn’t bear to glance in her direction.

“I have arranged for your privacy.”

She frowned in confusion. “Privacy?”

Without warning Tane plucked the sleeping gargoyle and shoved him at the reluctant vampire.

“Here.”

She watched in confusion as Uriel grasped a stunted horn, allowing the gargoyle to hang at his side.

“What are you doing with Levet?”

“He’s an old friend of Uriel’s,” Tane assured her. “The two of them have a lot of catching up to do.”

Uriel flashed Tane a glance that should have struck him dead.

“You’re in my debt, Charon.”

With his warning delivered, the vampire took off down the opposite tunnel while Tane steered her through the tunnel he’d just exited.

“What’s going on?”

“I have negotiated the safe haven you demanded of me,” Tane explained, pausing to shove open a heavy lead door that blocked the passageway.

Laylah grimaced as she stepped into the vast dungeon that held a number of iron-lined cells.

“Here?”

He grabbed her hand to urge her past the cells. “Were you expecting the Ritz?”

“Of course not.” She shivered, not prepared to confess the dungeon forcibly reminded her of the nightmarish months spent as the mage’s prisoner.

A smart demon didn’t flash childhood traumas in front of sinfully gorgeous vampires. Not when they were masters of emotional manipulation.

Besides, she hated looking weak.

At last reaching the far side of the dungeon, Tane pushed open a door and stepped aside for her to enter.

Warily she entered the room, relieved to discover an effort had been made to add a few comforts.

There was a wide bed with a hand-stitched quilt, and two wingchairs set near a brick fireplace. There was even a bookcase with leather-bound volumes stacked on the shelves.

It was either a room used by a guard, or for …