“Although it has been several weeks since you left Fallon’s homeland—”
“Several weeks?” Fallon forgot her annoyance with Cyn as she sucked in a shocked breath. How was that possible? It felt as if it’d only been a matter of minutes since she was standing in the small reception room in her father’s palace.
Siljar gave a lift of her hands. “Traveling through dimensions can often create temporal fluctuations.”
She was lying. Oh, it was true that traveling through dimensions could screw with time, but Fallon suspected that the cunning Oracle had deliberately altered time for her own purpose.
With a low growl Cyn clenched his hands in frustration, clearly more pissed than suspicious.
“What’s the date?” he demanded.
“The middle of January.”
The vampire’s icy powers pulsed through the air, making Fallon shiver.
“Shit,” he rasped.
Siljar calmly smoothed her hands down her robe, pretending there wasn’t a massive vampire filling the cave with enough power to make it collapse on their heads.
“As I was saying, I brought you here so Fallon could concentrate on her task without the interference of her father and her fiancé who are both searching for her.”
Fallon widened her eyes. It made sense that her father would come in search of her. But her fiancé?
The prince barely remembered she was alive most of the time.
“Magnus is here?”
“Fiancé?” Cyn muttered, sending Fallon an oddly angry glare before turning his attention to Siljar. “You can’t expect me to be her babysitter.”
“I request that you give her your protection.” Siljar spoke before Fallon could call him a jackass. “Which will be considerably easier if you remain behind the potent magic that hides your lair from prying eyes.”
“And what about my people?” he snarled. “I’ve already been gone too long. They need their chief.”
Siljar waved away his concern. “You surely have a trusted servant who can keep your presence here a secret and yet allow you to ensure the welfare of your clan?”
The chill in the air became downright frigid. “There are others more suited to taking care of a fairy.”
Fallon met him glare for glare. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Siljar reached into the pocket of her robe, pulling out a small scroll.
“But they would not be more suited to deciphering this.”
Chapter Two
It wouldn’t come as a shock to anyone that Styx was the Anasso, King of Vampires.
At six foot five with dark eyes, and the fierce Aztec features of his ancestors, he was the poster child for BADASS. Dressed in leather pants and white silk shirt that emphasized his massive chest, he had his long raven hair braided and decorated with tiny turquoise amulets. There was another amulet around his neck, this one a traditional medallion that held the power of his people. His size thirteen feet were shoved into a pair of shit-kickers that looked decidedly out of place in the elegant library.
Of course, there was no place in the sprawling mansion north of Chicago that he didn’t stand out like a sore thumb. His home was filled with marble columns and painted ceilings and an explosion of gilt. And the furnishings weren’t Louis XIV rip-offs. The furniture had actually come from the king’s palace. Which meant they were so delicate, a poor vampire was constantly terrified it would crack beneath his weight.
Unfortunately his mate, Darcy, insisted that he needed a lair that would impress the demon world. And if it made Darcy happy, then that was all that mattered.
The vampire walking through the door, however, was the exact opposite of Styx.
Not to say that Viper wasn’t equally lethal. He hadn’t earned a position as the Chicago clan chief because his eyes were as dark and beguiling as a velvet night sky. Or because his features were as beautiful as a fallen angel. Or because his long, silver hair shimmered like the finest satin.
He was one of the most ruthless killers to stalk the streets of Chicago.
But while Styx looked like death walking, Viper resembled an eighteenth-century dandy dressed in a dark velvet jacket that reached his knees and a ruffled pink shirt.
Crossing the priceless Parisian carpet, Viper headed directly to the side of the room, pouring himself a brandy before turning to face Styx who was leaning against the heavy desk.
“This had better be important,” Viper growled, tossing the brandy down his throat.
Styx arched a raven brow as Viper set the empty glass on a low, walnut table.
“Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?”
Viper nailed him with an exasperated glare. “I hadn’t left my bed, Your Majesty. I was enjoying a rare evening alone with my mate.”
Ah. That would explain the pissy mood.
Styx shrugged. “A pity.”
Viper rolled his eyes. “You could at least pretend to be sympathetic.”