The Warrior Vampire(107)
“You’ve betrayed us, Paolo.” Naya’s voice thickened with her anger, the heat of it melting some of the chill that seized Ronan’s body. “And you lied to me. Used me. It’s time for you to answer for that.”
“You think you’re in the position to take me to task, mujer?” The male laughed, and through the tenuous thread of their tether, Naya’s anger further heated. Her rage cleared the icy fog in Ronan’s head. “The pod listens to me, not you. I’ve found a way to circumvent nature, stupid girl. You and your ilk—like the legends of our people—are about to fade into obscurity. Dark can’t exist without light. I’ll pass this power on and with your help we’ll breed a new race of our people. Mankind will tremble in our presence and we’ll take this world back from the pathetic mundane who’ve disregarded their stewardship of the earth in favor of their own useless greed.”
“The earth isn’t our responsibility and neither is policing humans. We follow El Sendero. It’s what we’ve always done. You’re crazy if you think any of the pods will follow in your wake. I won’t let that happen.”
“Truly, Naya, I’d hoped you’d cooperate. But the truth is, I don’t need you. Not as long as I have Luz.”
Ronan’s soul howled in agony at the threat inherent in the male’s words. Instead of fighting the grip of debilitating cold, Ronan let it in. Magical energy surged within him, a dark, sickening power that made his stomach turn. He couldn’t let it take him. Not completely.
Ronan’s vision cleared in an instant. A tall male, naked and enraged, rushed at Naya, catching her off guard as he took her to the ground. She cut crossways with the dagger, dragging the blade across his chest. He let out a rough shout as he rolled them over. The male’s bulk pinned Naya to the ground and he wrapped his hands around her throat.
Ronan rolled to his hands and knees, his joints stiff as though frozen solid. He worked the tension loose as he pushed himself to stand, wobbling on his feet as he tried to find a balance between the dark magic that threatened to overtake him and his own consciousness that fought for control of his body, mind, and soul.
Until Naya was safe, not a gods-damned thing was going to take him down.
The balls of his feet dug into his boots and Ronan gained his footing and pushed off the ground at a dead run. Manny sat inside of the salt circle, surrounded by bright blue liquid light that poked at the perimeter of salt as though looking for a way through. Five feet ahead, the male looked up, his hands still wrapped around Naya’s throat. Any male with balls enough to put his hands on Ronan’s mate was guaranteed to meet a violent end.
Despite the chill that stiffened his joints, Ronan overtook Paul with ease. Like plucking fruit from the vine, Ronan swept him away from Naya and threw him to the ground. Behind him Naya coughed and spluttered, gasping for breath. “Ronan, don’t kill him!” she rasped. “Paul’s infected. We need him if we’re going to find the chest and your sister.”
Could this be the son of a bitch who’d taken Chelle? “Where is she?” Ronan grabbed Paul by his hair and dragged him up until he was at eye level. His dark eyes gleamed with malice and his full lips pulled back into a sneer that revealed a row of straight, white teeth.
“The dhampir?” he asked with a superior chortle that made Ronan want to rattle his brain inside of his head. “You mean you don’t remember? You were with her after all.”
His disbelieving chuff of breath steamed the night air. Could he have actually found his sister? Been with her before someone had infected him with this fucking dark magic? What else had happened that he couldn’t remember? He tossed Paul back to the ground, as inconsequential as a discarded rag doll, and pressed his knee into the male’s back as he pinned him face-first to the earth. “Where is she?” Ronan leaned in close until his mouth rested near the male’s ear and railed, “Tell me!”
Magic rose up inside of him, a charge of power that left him feeling damn near invincible. His thirst raged—with an urgency that far surpassed anything he’d felt thus far—and demanded he glut himself on blood. Do it, the darkness urged. Drain him.
Ronan clamped down on his control, pushing back the cold, the need that threatened to master him. Soft, warm skin slid over his arm and he looked up to find Naya standing above him, her touch so gentle that it caused his heart to constrict in his chest.
“Stay with me, Ronan.” Her pleading tone nearly did him in. “Fight it. Be strong for me.”
Anything. He’d do anything for her. He couldn’t push the words past the gods-damned lump that settled in his throat. He gave Naya a sharp nod of acknowledgment and kept his eyes focused on her. His powerful mate. Warrior. Goddess. Mine.