Large with two stories, it had black shutters and a screened-in porch that wrapped around the side. The roof had recently been replaced, but the nearby chicken coop looked like a stiff breeze might blow it over.
The structure was effectively hidden by the large trees draped in Spanish moss that surrounded it and was set far enough from the path leading to the nearby small town to avoid unwanted interest.
A perfect lair for a vampire seeking solitude.
Confident that nothing was creeping through the shadows beyond the native wildlife, Santiago focused his powers on the house.
It took only a second for a jolt of recognition to blaze through him.
Gaius wasn’t there, but something else was.
Something powerful enough to make the very air sizzle.
So much for being the most lethal predator around, he conceded, his hands clenched as he was slammed by a combination of shock and dark, unwelcomed arousal. The Oracles had sent in the big guns.
Nefri.
No vampire beyond Styx had that kind of juice.
Certainly no other vampire could make him hard by her mere scent.
Jasmine.
Enticing, elusive, dangerous.
And his own personal kryptonite.
His spine stiffened as he moved forward, silently sliding through the front gate and up the wide staircase.
Not this time.
During their last encounter Nefri had managed to lead him by the nose and then dumped him like a bad habit.
Tonight she was going to discover that he wasn’t her lap dog. In fact, he might just be her worst nightmare.
Entering the house, he glanced around the front room, which was filled with padded bamboo furniture. A frown touched his brow as he realized that the sofa and chairs had been shoved aside so a large circle could be scraped into the wooden floorboards.
The witch’s work, no doubt.
Not that he gave a damn at the moment. His senses were filled with a beguiling jasmine scent that filtered deep into places that he’d forgotten existed. Mierda. His entire body was resonating with awareness. As if Nefri had infected him with a brutal craving that only she could satisfy.
He should turn and walk away, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. A call to Styx for a replacement and he would be returning to his club to find a woman who could make him forget he’d ever met a female named Nefri.
But of course he didn’t.
His infamous talent for remaining in command no matter what the situation had been destroyed the moment he’d realized that Nefri was within his grasp. Now he stalked forward, following the trail of his prey into the back kitchen.
Distantly he was aware of peeling linoleum, the ancient human appliances, and a small wooden table. But it was the female vampire standing in the center of the room that commanded his attention.
Regal.
There was no other word for Nefri’s tall graceful beauty. Even surrounded by shabby white-painted cabinets and drenched in fluorescent light, she looked like a queen with her hair falling to her waist like a river of liquid ebony. Her face was a perfect, pale oval with features carved by the hands of angels and eyes dark and deep enough for a man to drown in.
Her lips . . . dios. How many fantasies had been devoted to imagining those cherry red lips wrapped around his cock? The same cock that was already standing at painful attention.
“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he drawled, moving to lean against the tiled countertop, his gaze narrowing as he took in the faded jeans that clung to her long, slender legs and the jade cashmere sweater that allowed him to appreciate the full curve of her breasts.
The last time she’d left the Veil she’d draped herself in long robes that only hinted at the feminine flawlessness beneath.
Now he felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut. Trying to pretend a nonchalance he was far from feeling, Santiago folded his arms over his chest and met her piercing gaze.
“Santiago,” she murmured, taking a brief inventory of his own jeans, gray hoodie, and big-ass sword strapped to his back, her aloof composure rousing his most primitive instincts.
She wouldn’t look so cold and untouchable once he had her tumbled into his bed, he silently swore. She would be warm and willing and wild enough to sate his hunger.
He wouldn’t accept anything less.
He smiled, not bothering to hide his raw desire. Hell, she already thought he was a barbarian. No need to disappoint her.
“I thought you had scurried back behind the Veil.”
“Scurried?” A slow lift of her brow. “I returned to my home.”
“Without so much as a good-bye?”
“My people needed me.”
Bull. Shit.
“For what?”
She shrugged. “It was difficult for us to accept that we could have a traitor living among us and not have suspected the truth.”
Now that he believed her. Immortal Ones were arrogant enough to assume that they couldn’t be deceived. Their pride must have taken quite a beating for them to accept they’d harbored the traitor.
Still, he knew it was more than concern for her clan that had made her disappear without warning.
“And you were running away?”