“I intend to find out. But first . . .” Cyn glared in Levet’s direction. “Can you get in touch with Siljar? She needs to know what we’ve discovered.”
The gargoyle wrinkled his snout. “I can try.”
Taking several steps backward, the gargoyle gave a dramatic lift of his hands, his eyes closed as he sent some sort of mental message to the Oracle.
Beside her, Cyn made a sound of disgust, his lips parting as if he were about to share his opinion of Levet’s less than subtle style.
But before he could speak there was an ominous electric charge in the air, and without warning Levet was flying backward to hit the wall with a sharp thud before sliding to the ground.
With a muttered oath, Cyn was striding across the floor to grab the gargoyle by the horn, hauling him back to his feet.
“What the hell was that?”
“It would appear that Siljar isn’t in the mood to be bothered right now,” Levet muttered, rubbing his backside.
Fallon bit her bottom lip. That didn’t sound good.
“What does that mean?”
Levet gave a shrug. “Either she is truly busy and does not wish to be disturbed. Or—”
It was Cyn who finished the sentence. “Or she’s under the control of someone, or something.”
Oh hell. It was just as bad as she feared.
“Do you think the person who is trying to manipulate the Commission sent them this spell?” she demanded.
“Aye,” Cyn muttered.
“So what do we do?”
Cyn returned to her side, staring down at the dangerous hieroglyphs.
“I have to discover who is behind the spell.” His jaw clenched. “And stop them before they can force the Commission to cast it.”
She frowned. “Don’t you mean we?”
He sent her a stern glance. “I’m going to take care of this. You need to return to fairyland.”
“Mon Dieu,” Levet muttered, gingerly inching toward the door. “I believe that is my cue to leave.”
Neither of them noticed the gargoyle exiting the room, both intent on winning the glaring contest.
“I was brought here just as you were,” she reminded the arrogant man. “I have a duty.”
His gaze narrowed. “That was before we realized the magnitude of the danger. I’m sure Siljar would agree that you should travel back to your home.”
Fallon tilted her chin. “And I’m sure she’d expect me to complete the task she gave me.”
“Fallon—”
“No,” she interrupted.
It wasn’t that she was particularly courageous. Or that a part of her didn’t want to rush back to her father’s palace where she’d be removed from the danger. But she’d been brought to this world for a reason, and she wasn’t leaving until the job was done.
No matter what the oversized vampire might say.
Turning, she headed for the door.
“Wait,” he growled from behind her. “We aren’t done discussing this.”
Her retreat never faltered. “A discussion implies an equal exchange of ideas. You were giving me a command and expecting me to obey.” Reaching the door, she paused to glance over her shoulder. “I don’t take orders from you.”
A scowl pinched his brows together, his fangs fully displayed, but before he could continue the argument, she was out the door and headed back to her rooms.
Over the next few hours, Fallon spent her time either monitoring the bowls or resting in her bedroom.
She wasn’t hiding from Cyn. Of course she wasn’t.
It was just that . . .
Okay, she’d been hiding. With a grimace, she forced her feet to carry her down the stairs and through the vast catacomb of rooms.
Being around the vampire clan chief was like being thrown into a raging storm.
She’d lived her life in endless golden peace. No changes. No surprises. Just one sunny day after another.
Now she was suddenly staying in a dark castle, spying on demons who could crush her with a mere thought, and stuck with a vampire who turned her into a woman she didn’t recognize.
She should have been horrified. Instead, she’d never felt more alive.
Suddenly she was surrounded by a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, annoyance, excitement, and a potent desire that haunted her even when she was asleep.
It was no wonder her instincts were warning her to try and minimize the impact of this world on her.
It would be hard enough to return to her homeland when this strange adventure came to an end. How much harder would it be if she allowed herself to become even more addicted to the intoxicating feelings that sizzled through her?
But waking just as dusk was falling, Fallon had come to a firm decision.
No more hiding.
She didn’t know how much time she was going to have in this world. She was going to savor every second.
With her decision made she’d hopped into the shower, then defiantly pulled on the jeans and lavender sweater that Cyn had given her. With her hair left loose to tumble down her back and her cheeks flushed, Fallon barely recognized herself in the mirror.
Gone was the perfectly groomed princess, and in her place was the real woman beneath the façade.
Her father would be horrified.
Moving from room to room, Fallon had finally halted in the paneled chapel, her fingers reaching to lightly trace the delicately carved altar. She didn’t need to be told that it was the work of Cyn. It was obvious in every perfect line and curve that created the image of a sturdy tree growing out of the tiled floor.
Right on cue Fallon felt the distinct chill that warned a vampire was approaching.
Slowly turning, she watched as Cyn appeared from the shadows, her breath squeezed from her lungs as she took in his large body covered by a pair of faded jeans and a cashmere sweater that was the precise jade green of his eyes. His blond hair was still damp from the shower and the braids that framed his bluntly chiseled face were threaded with tiny glass beads that caught the dim candlelight.
He was a big, gorgeous warrior with the soul of an artist.
Precisely the sort of man that had filled her girlish fantasies.
Excitement fluttered through the pit of her stomach, her heart pounding as he strolled past the pews to stand directly in front of her.
For a long minute he studied her in silence, taking a slow, thorough survey of her slender body. Starting at her feet that she’d left bare, his gaze traveled up the jeans that hugged her long, slender legs and then over the sweater that outlined the curve of her breasts. His nose flared, his hands clenching at his side as if he were battling a strong emotion.
“Exploring, princess?” he at last demanded, meeting her wary gaze.
Fallon stiffened, instantly assuming he was angry. “Is that against the rules?”
“There are no rules,” he instantly hastened to assure her. “You’re welcome to go wherever you want in my lair.”
“I am?”
He stepped close enough for her to feel the cool rush of his power wrap around her. Her skin prickled with awareness, her mouth dry as she resisted the urge to close the small space between them and press against his broad chest.
Crap. What was it about this vampire that set her senses on fire?
And why the hell couldn’t she feel this same blistering exhilaration with Prince Magnus?
It might not bring her complete happiness, but it certainly would make the marriage less of a burden.
“As you have pointed out, you are my guest,” he said, pretending that he couldn’t catch the scent of her stirring arousal.
“And only a few hours ago you were trying to get me to leave.” Her lips flattened. “In fact, you’ve been trying to get me to leave since we woke in the caves.”
He shrugged. “Clearly that’s not going to happen. At least not in the foreseeable future. So in the meantime I want you to feel at home here.”
Fallon frowned. Okay, something was wrong.
r />
Cyn had been bossy, irritating, and insanely sexy since he first intruded into her father’s palace. But he’d never played the role of gentleman.
“Did you take a fall down the stairs?” she demanded.
He arched a brow. “Excuse me?”
“You are behaving almost civilized,” she said, not bothering to hide her suspicion. “I assume you must have taken a severe blow to the head.”
His lips twisted with a hint of regret. “This has been . . . difficult for both of us.”
She grimaced. “We can agree on that.”
“We can also agree that it’s not helping for the two of us to be sniping at each other,” he said.
Fallon hesitated. She might be a complete innocent, but she sensed that she’d instinctively nurtured the nagging antagonism for a reason. Still, it seemed childish to toss his tentative olive branch back in his face.
“I did suggest we try to avoid one another,” she reminded him.
His gaze lowered to the vulnerable curve of her mouth. “I have a better solution.”
“You do?”
He had a hold of her hand and was tugging her toward a side door before she could guess his intentions.
“Come with me.”
Fallon told herself to pull away from his light grasp. Hadn’t she been determined to enjoy her short time in this world? And that meant relishing a few hours of choosing what she wanted to do rather than being told where she had to be and what she had to wear and how she had to behave.
But curiosity overcame any annoyance at being tugged around like an untrained puppy. Why spend the night roaming the ancient castle alone when she could have Cyn as a guide?
Her capitulation had nothing to do with the white-hot flames of anticipation licking through her.
Did it?
Trying to pretend her heart wasn’t racing and her stomach wasn’t fluttering, Fallon allowed herself to be led down a flight of stairs that had been hidden behind a marble statue.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they traveled deep beneath the castle. “I don’t need another tour of your caves.”
His pace slowed as they reached a narrow tunnel. “Patience.”
Fallon grimaced. Patience was the one quality that she’d been forced to develop just to survive in her world.
Now she didn’t want . . .
Her spurt of irritation was forgotten as he shoved open a heavy door and allowed a flood of sunlight to fill the tunnel. Horror raced through her as she tried to drag him away from the killing rays.
“Cyn.”
“Trust me,” he murmured, resisting her frantic tugs and instead urging her forward.
Accepting that the sunlight posed no danger to her companion, Fallon cautiously stepped through the doorway and into . . . paradise.
With a gasp she took in the large meadow that was spread before her.
A cloudless blue sky seemed to spread above them, stretching toward the horizon with no beginning and no end. Below her feet was a carpet of crisp spring grass and tiny daisies where butterflies danced and floated on the cool breeze. In the distance she could see a babbling brook that was shaded by large weeping willows. And in the very center of the field was a marble grotto with fluted columns that might have been plucked from a Greek villa.
An illusion. It had to be.
And yet it was so perfectly created that she could feel the heat of the sun, smell the rich earth, and hear the distant chirp of birds.
“Oh,” she breathed, turning her head to discover Cyn watching her with an unreadable expression. “How?”
“My foster mother,” he said, his brow flicking upward as her lips twitched. “What’s so amusing?”
She wrinkled her nose, allowing her toes to curl into the soft grass. Spell or not, it felt good to have the sun warming her chilled body.
“The thought of two fairies being your parents.”
“It was an odd situation.” A fond smile softened his features. “Still, I never forget that I owe them my life.”
She watched as he angled his face toward the sky, intrigued by the fey who’d obviously loved this vampire enough to bring him the sun.
“Why do you owe them your life?”
“Newly made vampires who aren’t taken in by their sire rarely survive,” he murmured, his eyes closed as he savored their magical surroundings.
Fallon felt an unexpected flare of panic at the mere thought that this magnificent male might have died before he’d ever had a chance to crash into her life.
“I’ve never understood why vampires would create children and then abandon them,” she muttered.
Cyn shrugged. “It’s something that Styx is slowly changing. Lucky for me, Erinna and Mika found me in the caves below this lair and took me into their home.”
She glanced around the meadow, awed by the amount of magic it had taken to create such a special place.
“They obviously love you.”
“Aye. Yet another rare gift for a vampire.” He opened his eyes, taking her hand to lead her toward the grotto. “I have another surprise.”
Feeling as if she’d strayed into some sort of dreamworld, Fallon allowed herself to be led across the meadow, climbing the marble stairs. Cautiously she stepped past the columns, her eyes widening at the sight of the blanket spread across the floor with a large basket and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice.
She sent a startled glance toward Cyn. “A picnic?”
The vampire moved to settle next to the basket, pouring them both a glass of champagne before he pulled out the plate of sliced fruit that had been dipped in nectar.
Exactly as she liked it.
“You need to eat.”
She blinked, slowly sinking onto the blanket. Okay, it was one thing for him to make an effort to be polite. But why would he arrange this beautiful meal?
Maybe he really had fallen down the stairs and rattled his brains.
Difficult to come up with another explanation.
“I did eat.”
“Hours ago.”
She thought back, recalling that she hadn’t touched the tray that had been left outside her bedroom door before leaving to explore the castle. But how had he known?
Unless . . .
“Are you having Levet spy on me?” she demanded.
Taking a slice of apple, he pressed it to her lips. “If I have to have him in my house then he can at least make himself useful.”
Fallon took a bite of the fresh fruit, shivering as the taste exploded in her mouth. There was something unbearably intimate about being fed from his hand.
“I don’t understand why you’re being so nice,” she said softly, her expression unconsciously vulnerable.
His fingers lingered, lightly tracing the curve of her lower lip. “It might be hard to believe, but I’m usually considered to be a charming bloke.”
“If you say so,” she forced herself to mutter, the insult losing its punch as she shuddered at the feel of his cool fingers skimming the length of her jaw.
“You possess an uncanny ability to . . .” He hesitated, as if he was searching for the words. “Get under my skin.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Get under my skin” sounded remarkably like “annoy the hell out of me.”
“What does that mean?”
His finger traced the vein that ran the length of her throat. “I want you.”
Heat blasted through her at his unexpected words, her body tingling with a bone-melting awareness.
She wanted to believe that it was a predictable reaction to a male so bluntly stating his hunger for her. After all, she’d never had a man treat her as if she were a desirable woman. Not when the male Chatri knew that any interest would be seen as a direct insult to the king.
What woman wouldn’t feel all hot and bothered?
But a part of her knew that her reaction had nothing to do with her innocence and everything to do with a gorgeous hunk of a vampire who made her want to forget about d
uty and fiancés and bury herself in his arms.
“Cyn,” she murmured, not sure if she was pleading for him to stop or to throw her back on the blanket and ravish her.
Not that her body was conflicted. It wanted the ravishing.
“But it’s more than that,” he continued, his lips twisting as he grabbed another slice of apple to feed to her. He waited until she’d eaten the fruit before he continued. “Even when you’re not around, my thoughts turn to you. I need to know that you’re taking care of yourself and that you’re—”
A frisson of excitement fluttered through the pit of her stomach as his fingers tangled in her hair, his gaze brooding as he studied her upturned face. She could physically feel the hunger that hummed through his body.
Or maybe it was her own hunger.
Either way it was making her tremble with a delicious sense of anticipation.
“That I’m what?” she asked.
“Not unhappy.”
She met his piercing gaze, sensing the intense emotions that smoldered just beneath the surface.
Was he angry? Frustrated? Wishing he’d never followed his friend into her homeland?
“Why do you care?”
His lips parted, his fangs fully extended. “That, princess, is a question without an answer.”
Chapter Eight
Wearing a cloak that covered him from head to toe, Sir Anthony Benson felt a sharp stab of relief as a shimmering breach suddenly appeared in the middle of his attic.
It’d taken Yiant only a few hours to return with the potion that Anthony had demanded, but he’d hesitated to complete the spell. He needed to speak with Keeley before he headed into the lair of the Oracles. If the Chatri were in this world because they sensed his plot, then he needed to take extra precautions.
But as the hours passed with no sign of the imp, he’d at last started his preparations. Whether Keeley had given in to his cowardice and run or he’d been killed by the King of Vampires, Anthony couldn’t wait any longer.
The spell of Compulsion he’d built layer by slow layer around the Commission would already be starting to fade. And just as dangerous, his connection to one Oracle in particular was reaching a critical point.