So why couldn’t he stop staring at her?
He much preferred her true looks to her glamour. Her deep brown eyes held such power, and such pain. He wanted to plumb her secrets, to find out what made her tick. To dissect her and ferret the mysteries of why such a powerless female should affect him so deeply.
But more, he wanted to strip her bare, to feast on her flesh and drink down her blood. And thatneverhappened. Khent didn’t fuck and feed. He considered it disgusting. One didn’t play with one’s food.
With Valentine though, he wanted to gorge. To fuck her and take from her delicate neck. Just thinking about it, watching her, made his fangs grow and his cock thicken. Like a lad discovering sex for the first time.
Not liking his response, he turned and left before he gave in to the temptation to join her in bed for more than sleep.
He left his room and found Rolf and Mormo in the kitchen interrogating Onvyr.
“You,” Mormo pointed at Khent, who did his best not to flinch. He might not respect Mormo’s physical power, but there could be no denying the magician’s command of magic. Or his close tie to the goddess of death and witchcraft.
“What did I do?”
Mormo’s eyes widened.
Behind him, Rolf grinned from ear to ear, and Onvyr tried to sneak away, caught when Mormo latched onto his arm.
“You set Tiger Mountain on fire.”
“Nice, bro.” Rolf gave him a thumbs up. The draugr’s default sign of approval.
Khent shook his head. “No. Thedemonset the mountain on fire after the creature possessing him killed dozens of magir and tried to kill us too. I called MEC in to clean it up. That doesn’t make you happy?”
“That doesn’t make you happy?” Rolf parroted.
Onvyr nodded and added, “If we hadn’t been there, those dead magir and that demon would have demolished the next humans up the mountain tomorrow—er, today. In a few hours, probably. The fox and birds told me it’s a busy season for annoying humans.”
“Great.” Mormo muttered under his breath then quieted and studied Khent. “What’s this creature commanding the demon? A higher demon, I’d imagine.”
“Maybe.” Yet Khent didn’t think so. “There was something there I couldn’t put my finger on. The four-eyes refused to tell me his name.”
Rolf snorted. “Of course he refused. Names have power.”
“Well, he was happy enough to say ‘Khent of the Night Bloode’ several times.”
“Of the Night Bloode.” Mormo nodded with satisfaction. “Not a Son of Osiris. Also, Onvyr mentioned this demon had a staff that made him sick.”
“That was a pale imitation of a Staff of Blight. I’ve seen one up close. Not the same thing at all. Onvyr took sick when the four-eyes exploded, the resulting poison causing him and Valentine to grow ill, not the staff.”
Mormo shrugged. “They’re known to do that. Four-eyes aren’t very strong, but in death, they can annihilate even vampire clans.”
“I didn’t realize that.” Rolf looked impressed. “Did you know that, Khent?”
“Yes. But most reapers are immune to poisons, magical and not. As I’ve told you many times, our tribe is superior to the rest of you.”
“Yeah, but can you do this?” Rolf produced three small red balls out of thin air and started juggling. “Or this?” He then threw them all at Onvyr and snapped his fingers, and the balls turned to sparkling dust that vanished.
Onvyr clapped.
Mormo sighed. Loudly. “Rolf, you’re giving me an even bigger headache. No, Onvyr.” Mormo gripped Onvyr’s arm even tighter, preventing the dusk elf from leaving. “You and I need to talk.”
“Look, it’s not my fault Varu can’t find the last stone. He’s not looking in the right places. I told Fara that.”
Mormo froze. “What do you know about the last Bloode Stone?”
“Only what the animals have been telling me. And something She Who Walks Between Worlds said.”
