In fact . . .
With an effort, Nefri squashed the image of grabbing the lovely Charis by her dark hair and shaking her until her teeth rattled. Instead she calmly allowed herself to be led through the brackish water and thick undergrowth, she was only briefly startled when they stepped through a thin barrier of magic to enter a vast parkland that had cement dykes to hold back the swamp and perfectly manicured gardens that bloomed beneath the fading moonlight. In the center, a large wooden structure was suspended off the ground by a dozen sturdy trees and built on several different levels that disappeared among the thick branches.
It was large enough to house at least three dozen Harpies, with room for the communal nursery that traditionally consumed the top floor.
Acutely aware she was being watched by guards hidden among the leaves, Nefri kept her head held high and her pace steady as she was led past the flowering bignonias and pure white lilies. They left the gardens through a high archway and entered a narrow foyer that was lined with panels of glossy oak carved with elaborate designs.
A spiral staircase stood in the middle of the room and three of her companions peeled off to jog up the steep steps, while the remaining two escorted her down the hall to a room at the back of the building.
Halting at the door to stand guard, the two indicated for Nefri to enter.
As if she had a choice?
Refusing to reveal any hint of weakness, she stepped over the threshold and took a quick inventory of her surroundings. It was a large room with an open-beamed ceiling and fur rugs thrown on the wood-planked floor. She didn’t look too closely at the fur, knowing it was more likely the pelt of a demon than an animal. Harpies made very bad enemies.
There were a number of priceless tapestries hung on the walls and the furniture was finely crafted and covered in a pale blue satin.
An elegant room that spoke of authority and yet with enough womanly touches to make it comfortable.
As a female ruler, Nefri appreciated the subtle statement, even as the warrior in her took in the sword leaning in a far corner and the silver letter opener on the desk near the stone fireplace. She also noticed a faint scent of gunpowder that warned there was a gun hidden somewhere nearby.
At last her attention turned toward the female standing in the center of the floor. She was tall with the long, black hair of most Harpies. There were a few silver strands threaded through the darkness, which indicated she was several centuries old, and a hard-fought wisdom in the gray eyes. At the moment she was wearing a plain white gown that was slit down the back to allow room for her wings and wide gold bracelets around her wrists that indicated she was the leader of this particular nest.
“Matron,” she murmured with a respectful bow of her head. Unlike most men, Nefri understood that good manners were often more persuasive than any amount of bluster and intimidation.
“Vampire,” the woman responded, the low voice rumbling through the room like thunder.
“Please, call me Nefri.”
The woman nodded. “And I’m Solaris, Matron of this nest.”
“I am honored to meet you.”
“We shall see.” The storm gray eyes held a warning as she waved her hand toward the built-in bar. “I have refreshments. Or I can call for one of my sisters. There are a few who enjoy donating their blood to vampires.”
“No, thank you.” Nefri’s smile remained, but the sudden realization that Santiago might even now be at the throat of some willing Harpy jolted through her, exposing a raw emotion she hadn’t felt in centuries. Was that . . . jealousy? Good lord, she was losing her mind. “Where is my companion?”
The Harpy regarded her with a piercing intelligence. “He’s your property?”
Nefri paused to consider her answer. In Harpy society males were treated as possessions that were meant to be shared with the entire nest.
“He is under my protection,” she at last said. “And unavailable.”
“A pity.” A mysterious smile curved the woman’s lips. “We have several younglings about to enter their first mating heat.”
Nefri’s expression never altered, but she couldn’t control the frigid burst of power that made the overhead chandelier sway and at least one crystal vase shatter.
“A vampire can’t breed.”
Solaris arched a brow. “I’m aware of your reproduction deficiencies, which is why I encourage the young ones to choose a vampire for their first lover. They can have all the pleasure of mating without the concern of pregnancy. Most aren’t ready yet for motherhood.”
Oh no. Hell no.
Two more vases shattered.
“As I said, Santiago isn’t available.”
The Matron ignored the destruction of her expensive collection, her own power a steady pulse that could unleash a deadly barrage of fire.