The clan chief of London gave a small shrug. “My mate has a challenging sense of humor.”

There was a brief pause as the two predators became familiar with one another. Tane used the opportunity to run a practiced glance over the female’s slender body attired in jeans and short sleeved sweater before moving to the towering Victor who wore a dark pair of chinos matched with a charcoal silk shirt.

He could easily detect the silver dagger hidden beneath Victor’s shirt and catch the scent of the handgun tucked in an ankle holster. So far as he could determine the female didn’t carry any weapons.

At least not the mundane sort of weapons.

She had witch’s blood running through her veins, which made her more of a danger than any dagger or handgun.

“Charon,” Victor drawled, the silver eyes narrowed. “And a Jinn.” He tested the air. “No. Half Jinn.”

“As you say,” Tane growled, bristling in warning.

There was the sound of footsteps behind him, then a completely unprovoked blow to the center of his back as Laylah felt the need to vent her displeasure.

Meeting Victor’s amused gaze, he grudgingly shifted to the side so Laylah could step out of the cell, her face still concealed by the hood.

“My name is Laylah.”

“A beautiful name,” Victor’s mate was swift to step into the tense silence, her smile kind. “I’m Juliet and this is Victor.” She sent the vampire at her side a wry grimace. “My mate when I choose to claim him.”

Tane stepped toward the clan chief, his body rigid with the compulsion to put as much distance as possible between Victor and Laylah.

“I must speak with you in private,” he demanded.

Laylah grabbed his arm. “Tane …”

“I must warn you, Laylah, that it’s a waste of breath to argue with vampires,” Juliet murmured, moving to place an arm around Laylah’s shoulders.

“But I have questions.”

“So I heard. Come with me.” Juliet urged Laylah down the opening between cells, obviously headed for the nearby stairs. “I think I have the answers you want.”

Tane’s brows snapped together in disbelief as he watched the two women disappear. Dammit, was Laylah trying to drive him nuts?

Victor snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Tane.”

He jerked to meet Victor’s amused gaze. “Where the hell are they going?”

Victor arched a brow. “Does it matter?”

“Laylah is a creature banned by the Commission. As soon as she leaves the tunnels she will be vulnerable.”

“So? It’ll save you the trouble of… shit.” Victor’s humor was replaced with cold fury as Tane grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall of the cell. “Unless you have an overwhelming itch for your grave I suggest you release me.”

Tane was rarely stupid.

He’d learned a brutal lesson in ever allowing his emotions to overcome his senses. Until Laylah.

Now he was making a perilous habit of charging from one bad decision to another.

A pity there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

“The Jinn is mine,” he hissed, grudgingly releasing his hold on the older vampire.

Victor smoothed his silk shirt, his sardonic expression disguising the lingering fury that Tane could scent in the air.

“I doubt the Oracles would agree.” “I will deal with them later.”

Victor folded his arms over his chest, a speculative expression on his noble features.

“What’s going on, Tane?” he demanded. “You have a reputation as a ruthless bastard who does your duty and disappears back to your hidden lair. Like Batman, without the creepy butler.”

He hesitated. He wasn’t about to share his strange obsession with Laylah, but he was going to have to offer some explanation if he wanted Victor’s help.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m playing a hunch?” he at last said.

“Yes,” he agreed with a remarkable sincerity. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

Victor headed toward the door leading out of the dungeon, his Italian leather shoes clicking against the stone floor. Tane was barefoot as usual. Who gave a rat’s ass for expensive leather? Silence trumped fashion any day of the week.

Tane hurried to catch up with the clan chief, reaching his side as they climbed the narrow steps to enter the grand mansion above.

“Laylah,” he gritted.

“She’ll be safe with Juliet,” Victor promised with an offhand tone that made Tane’s jaw clench. The vampire was lucky that Tane had need of him.

“Not if half the demons in London are trying to capture her.”

“Don’t worry.” Victor smiled with smug confidence. “My mate has a collection of magical artifacts that could fill the Louvre. Somewhere among the cache are a hundred amulets, charms, and crystals that will keep Laylah hidden from nosy demons.”

They passed through the black and white foyer of the Palladian masterpiece and up an imposing staircase with a gilded balustrade. From there Victor led him through the marble hall that held a priceless collection of Greek statues set in shallow alcoves and a coved ceiling painted with fierce angels battling a horde of demons and into the formal salon.

The towering walls were covered by crimson silk panels, the rich color echoed in the upholstery of the traditional English furnishings and heavy velvet curtains that had been pulled aside to reveal a line of arched windows that overlooked a sunken garden.

It looked and smelled of ancient wealth.

The sort of stuffed shirt, grandiose, don’t-touch-anything place that made Tane itch.

Although he had no memory of his life as a human, he retained his people’s preference for being surrounded by nature.

Moving toward a heavy sideboard, Victor tugged open a scrolled panel to reveal a mini fridge tucked inside. There was the tinkle of glass, then he turned to cross the Oriental carpet and shoved a glass of fresh blood into his hand.

“Here.”

Tane wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want …”

“I know what you want,” Victor interrupted in a tone that defied argument. “But for now you’ll settle for this. Tell me how you came into contact with a mongrel Jinn.”

Tane concisely explained the events leading up to his pursuit of Laylah and her desperate attempts to elude him that had eventually landed them both in London.

Victor listened in silence, his expression unreadable. “So you’ve had her in your powers twice and failed to take her to the Oracles? A dangerous game.”

He grimaced, downing the blood in one gulp. Immediately he felt his strength increasing, although it was flat and tasteless.

For the first time in his long existence, he hungered for one blood in particular. “This stopped being a game days ago.” Victor nodded. In understanding or sympathy? Impossible to say.

“What of your hunch?” he prompted. “She’s hiding something,” Tane confessed.

“Something?” “A baby.”

Victor revealed the first hint of surprise. “Hers?”

“No.” Tane made a sound of frustration. “But that’s all I’m certain of.”

Victor took his empty glass and returned to the sideboard. When he turned he held two glasses of whiskey. He crossed to offer one of the shots to Tane.

“Then what’s your interest in the child?”

Tane tossed the fine Irish spirits down his throat, savoring the burn.

“Laylah was willing to give her life to protect the babe. I want to know why.”

Victor studied him with a piercing gaze. “Tane, are you certain you aren’t just inventing reasons to keep Laylah with you rather than turning her over to the Commission?”

Tane paced toward the gardens drenched in a silvery fog, annoyed by the intrusion into his privacy.

Like every vampire he answered to Styx, the Anasso, but as a Charon he had no clan and no chief. Which meant he didn’t have to explain himself or his decisions to anyone.

Or perhaps he was annoyed by the possibility the clan chief was right on the money.

“I’m not damned well sure of anything beyond the fact the woman has crawled beneath my skin,” he muttered. “But I sense …”

“What?”

“I sense the babe is important.” He studied his companion with a stubborn expression. “And so is Laylah.”

Chapter 7

Laylah had never had a female friend. Not even when she’d been in the comforting care of her foster mother.

The need for secrecy had always overridden her aching desire for companionship.

Loneliness was the price for her freedom.

Now she found herself… what was a good word? Discombobulated, yeah that fit perfect, as Juliet hustled her to a vast guest bedroom that was decorated in shades of ivory and lavender, barely allowing Laylah to get a word in edgewise as she draped an amulet of disguise about her neck before urging her into the attached bathroom that was a woman’s wet dream.

A sunken marble tub the size of Rhode Island was smack dab in the center of the room and already filled with steaming hot water. A line of bottles that held bath oils, soaps, shampoos, and soothing crystals were set on the glass shelves. And lit candles filled the air with a soft vanilla scent.

Left alone, Laylah gave in to temptation and soaked away the dirt and tension of the past days, only leaving the water when she began to resemble a prune. Why not linger? For now the amulet would hide her presence from even the most persistent demon.

At last returning to the guest room she discovered clean jeans and a pretty yellow shirt, as well as lacy underwear and tennis shoes laid out on the canopy bed.

She shook her head as she pulled on the clothes and ran a brush through her spiky crimson hair. She didn’t know what she’d expected when Tane had brought her to the lair of London’s clan chief, but it certainly wasn’t to be treated like a welcomed guest.

There was a knock on the door. “Can I get you anything else, Laylah?” Juliet demanded.

With a smile, Laylah crossed to pull open the door, stepping hurriedly aside as the tiny woman bustled in with a silver tray that she carried directly to the cherry wood table.

“No, I believe you’ve thought of everything,” she said dryly.

“Sorry.” Juliet laughed, occupied with unloading the various plates of sandwiches, scones, fresh cream and … Laylah’s nose twitched, her mouth watering. Cake. German chocolate cake. “It’s so rare that I have visitors who aren’t here to kiss Victor’s ass or to try and assassinate him that I don’t remember how to treat a normal guest.”

Laylah snorted as she closed the door. “Don’t sweat it, there’s nothing normal about me.”

“Poor choice of words.” Juliet poured two cups of hot tea. “Did you know I’m a mongrel? Witch and imp. Or imp and witch, depending on who I’m trying to shock.”