The Warrior Vampire(110)

“Fine.” Luz’s pouting tone would have made a four-year-old proud. “But once everything’s wrapped up, you’re totally spilling the sleeping-spell story.”

“You don’t have to wait until later,” Ronan said. “I’ll tell you all about it in the car.”

“Turncoat,” Naya mumbled under her breath.

Ronan chuckled. The sound of his amusement coaxed a grin to her lips. Damn it, she couldn’t even bring herself to be mad.

Luz’s 4Runner came in handy with their extra passenger. Ronan deposited the immoble Paul into the cargo area and climbed into the backseat.

“Are you okay to drive?” Naya was still a little wired, but she or Manny would probably be the better choice to hop behind the wheel.

“I’ll drive.” Manny grabbed Luz’s hand and led her around the front of the truck. “You need to sit and relax for a while.” Luz started to protest, but Manny shut her down. “Don’t argue. Just do it.”

Naya had never seen Manny put her cousin in her place before. So either Luz was more addled than she’d let on or they truly did have feelings for each other. Either way, it was one for the record books.

The trip back to town passed in quiet reflection. Ronan sat still beside Naya, tension pulling every muscle in his body taut. He fought an internal battle. The sound of his music that vibrated through their tether was erratic, like an orchestra warming up before a performance. Neither sharp nor flat, the pitch was true. Simply … off.

Aside from banishing foreign magic to the gold boxes she turned over to the elders, Naya had no experience with it. She didn’t study other supernatural races or their powers, nuances, individual magic. If what Ronan had been infected with had in fact come from Set’s chest, perhaps it was safe to assume that it wouldn’t transform Ronan into a mapinguari. The chest was a vampire relic; Ronan was a vampire. But if the legends were true, the chest contained a very intense power, very ancient magic. One that hadn’t been in contact with any member of vampire-kind aside from Osiris, the rumored father of the vampire race.

She’d never felt so damned useless. So helpless. What if she couldn’t do anything for Ronan? What if that power was doomed to live inside of him forever? Icy shards of dread speared Naya’s chest. Reaching over, she took Ronan’s hand in hers and squeezed. The reassurance was trite, but it was the only comfort she could offer him right now.

Hell, it was the only comfort she could offer herself when she was overcome with so much fear and uncertainty.

* * *

When Naya offered her vein to him, it had nearly snapped the meager control Ronan had on his composure. The darkness required blood. And though Ronan had taken care with his mate in all the times he’d fed from her, he worried that there would come a time that he would succumb to the urging voice of that darkness and drain her.

To be responsible for the death of his own mate—was there a worse torture to put upon himself?

Her touch was gentle, reassuring, as she gripped his fingers and gave a light squeeze. When it came to relics, Chelle was the expert. In all of their adventures, Ronan’s role had been that of the muscle and little else. His knowledge was minimal; he’d only ever learned what pertained directly to whatever treasure they happened to be hunting. The only dhampir with more knowledge of vampire lore and legend was Siobhan, and Ronan would cut his own throat before he’d ask that viperous female for help.

“What do we do with Paul once we get to the house?” Luz’s voice broke the tense silence. “There’s a hunting party out right now searching for your vampire so they can get their hands on that hundred pieces of gold. The entire block is going to be like a ghost town when we roll up. Sort of defeats the purpose of turning Paul over to the elders in dramatic fashion, don’tcha think?”

“I doubt we’ll have to call in the troops,” Ronan remarked as they rounded the corner that began the block of buildings that the pod occupied. “Looks like they’re already here.”

“Shit.”

Naya’s sentiment echoed Ronan’s thoughts exactly. Naya and Luz were technically keeping company with the enemy and they currently had the pod’s leader bound and tossed in the back of the truck, looking very much like a hostage. Assumptions would be made and there wouldn’t be a damned thing anyone could to do sway the elders’ minds. “What do you want to do?” Ronan asked Naya.

“How do you feel about letting me tie you up?”

The sparkle in her dark eyes set Ronan’s blood aflame. He flashed her a smile despite the seed of anxiety that took root deep in the pit of his gut. Being bound definitely triggered his fight-or-flight instincts—mostly fight—and he worried that it might wake the darkness that he’d managed to quell. “You’re thinking that if they perceive me as a prisoner it’ll buy you time?”