His pulse raced, and his breathing rattled his chest.
“What’s happened to Haven?” he growled.
“Hurry....” The voice faltered, its strength snatched away by the baying wind.
Energized into action by the simple word, he called to saddle Gehenna. His thoughts in a jumble, he sought solid purchase, something to anchor him and focus his mind.
She loves me. I love her.
“Where is she?” he demanded, driven by the need to find her. The spirit didn’t respond, and hot fear and anger burned along his skin. “Perez, where is Haven, who’s taken her?” His tone brooked no hesitation, but Perez still didn’t answer. Could the spirit have lost its power or its ability to speak?
“Perez, I need your help. I cannot find her without you.” His words of distress must have provided the right amount of motivation because moments later, the voice wafted through his agitated mind.
“I will lead you.”
Desperate to get to her, he didn’t ask how; he just knew Perez would direct him to where his heart most wanted to be.
Chapter Sixty
Haven came awake with a blast of frigid air against her face.
Blinking to rid her eyes of the fog of unconsciousness and confusion, she tried to lift her head. Pain shot through her skull. She tried to lift her hand to investigate and was immediately confounded by her restrained arm. She blinked, drew her brows together in a frown. She swallowed against the pain and lifted her head slowly to get a better look.
Shivering, she realized the cold air rushing through the room was brushing against her bare legs.
She was naked.
Fighting back the bile shooting up her throat, she whimpered softly. Nakedness was stock and trade of her career choice, but when she danced before the leering men at the club, she was nude of her own choice. Angelous had robbed her of that and left her exposed in a semi-dark room on a cold, flat surface.
She looked up again, ignoring the pain spreading through her skull.
Lying on some kind of table, her arms were tied to metal rings, one on each side. The restraints were the kind used on convicts for lethal injections, or to subdue mental patients when they tried to harm themselves.
She closed her eyes, and the memories of what happened in her room burst behind her lids, playing like a rerun she wanted to turn off.
Someone had snuck up and hit her from behind.
Flashes of mousy hair and a wild-eyed expression flit through her mind.
Roselyn.
Her memories flashed further to the day when the housemaid came into her room and was surprised to find her there. At the time she’d given a lame excuse; she’d lost something, some trinket or something, and was looking for it.
Had she been searching for something to steal—the watch? No, she wouldn’t have known about it; more than likely she was just looking for something to take. She doubted Roselyn knew its true value.
If Roselyn took the watch, where had she taken it? Where had Perez gone?
Shit.
Perez had been hovering in the room with her right before she’d been taken, so he could’ve followed Angelous and Roselyn after she knocked her unconscious. Was he in the room with her now? Couldsheinitiate communication with him in her mind?
She’d have to try.
Reaching out with as much focus and determination as she could muster, she silently called to him.“Perez, if you can hear me, please help me.”
She held her breath, willing him to tell her everything would be all right, that he’d use his power, vaporize Angelous, and send her back home—lickety-split.
No bodiless voice answered.
