Gabriel’s hand landed on Nick’s shoulder, where he had a moment to appreciate the giant emerald ring the man wore and how it resembled Rowan’s ruby one. He noticed Tobias had one too—a sapphire. It must be a family thing.
“Your concern is admirable. You must care for her deeply.”
Nick didn’t say a word. He was so confused about the bonded-mate thing Harriet had mentioned. What did it mean? He didn’t want to saddle Rowan with a commitment she didn’t even know she was making.
Tobias’s phone chimed and he thumbed the screen. “Sabrina says the vampires will likely want to keep her alive until the Forebears can talk to her. Although there is a price on her head, they won’t want to risk killing her. Not after they taste her blood. And no vampire she knows would pass up a taste.”
“Who’s Sabrina?” Nick asked.
“My wife and master of the Chicago vampire coven. I’ve texted her. She’ll send help, but her people sleep during the day and it will take her time to get here.”
“You’re married to one of them?” Nick rubbed the back of his neck.
“She’s on our side. We need her. She’s the reason we know we are in danger.”
Nick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d been awake all night, and exhaustion weighed on his shoulders.
Harriet raised a finger. “Ah. So the magic was correct. Another reason to wait until twilight. And still another, I have a potion brewing that will help you, but you must come with me to Ember Fields to get it. Djorji will drive us.” She pulled her phone out of her designer handbag and tapped the screen.
“So, my wife was right. You are a witch,” Gabriel said.
“Why would you think I was a witch?” Harriet said. “Do you think witches have cornered the market on magic?”
Nick frowned. “Personally, I’m sick of the ‘guess what I am and what I’m married to’ game. Can you just tell the human what the fuck is going on?”
Harriet laughed. “I’m a Traveller. What was once called a gypsy here in the old days. My ancient magic is a gift from my ancestors, the earth, and the dragon’s tooth that lives within me.”
Nick’s jaw dropped. “Dragon’s tooth?”
Harriet sighed. “Oh dear. I’ll tell you the story on the way. Djorji is here. We have work to do.”
* * *
Rowan woke in pain,although when she tried to adjust her body, she couldn’t move but a few centimeters. Her wrists and ankles were bound and she was someplace dark, as dark as the inside of the mountain.
Blinking, she tried to allow her eyes to adjust, but her dragon’s vision refused to cooperate. Without it, she was forced to use her exposed skin to gauge her surroundings. Silky fabric brushed her skin. Beside her was… a body. A high-pitched sound came from deep within her throat. She tried to sit up, and the top of her head hit more satin. Thank the Mountain, whatever was above her lifted with the pressure of her head, allowing in a shaft of dim light. The padded and silk-lined walls of a coffin came into view, and Malvern himself lay beside her, dead for the day.
Terror chilled her blood, and she tried to work her knees under her to climb out of the box. Why was she so weak? Every time she attempted to call on her inner dragon, her energy waned, as if opening the connection to her magic was also draining it.
To her relief, a set of hands lifted the lid and helped her out. Her bound feet landed on cold stone, and she looked up into the face of a pale human man whose throat was peppered with puncture wounds and bruises. His dark hair was badly in need of a wash, and his clothing was inadequate for the cold room. She quickly assessed the situation. Stone walls. One metal door in the back of the room that was worthy of a medieval dungeon.
“Relax. Your bindings are enchanted. If you try to use your powers, they’ll only weaken you until you eventually pass out. And the door is locked. They open it from the outside just before twilight, when the vamps wake up.”
“You said the bindings are enchanted? Enchanted by whom?”
“Some witch who works for Malvern. I don’t know her.” He turned and sat down in a chair in the corner of the room where a computer screen glowed. Rowan realized it was the only source of light in the room. “You can sit over there until he wakes up if you want. There’s a bucket on the other side of the room if you need to use the toilet. It’s not as bad as it sounds. There’s a seat.”
Rowan swallowed and tested her bindings. As promised, her energy diminished as if she’d gone days without sleep. She slid into the chair beside the human. Despite her predicament, she couldn’t help but pity the man who sported the NAVAK tattoo on his wrist.
“What’s your name?” she asked softly.
“Barry.”
“Do you work for the vampires?”
He blinked rapidly. “I am theirs.” There was no other way to interpret his intonation than that he was their property.
She folded her bound hands in her lap and tried to look as casual and unassuming as possible. “So, you spend all day down here, guarding the sleeping vampires.”
