Werewolves guarded the front gates.

And vampires guarded the doors.

A parting gift from Sariel… the morning after he was taken, I woke up to find my house littered with immortals.

And not the demonic kind I was used to.

When I told them to go to Hell, the vampires at the door told me they were guarding a demon — they were already there.

That’s how things had been ever since.

When I’d asked Cassius what the hell was going on, Cassius merely shrugged and said some bullshit about how he couldn’t read every mind — especially one as complex as Sariel’s had been.

Nice. Real nice.

Hope crossed her arms, casting her eyes to the ground as she leaned closer to me, passing both vampires with a weariness that I knew had been ingrained since birth.

Only a vampire could tell who she really was — by sucking her blood — but elves had always been taught to fear anything that could be their destruction.

Funny, how the “safe” immortal had been the one to destroy them all.

Disgusted, I snarled at the vampires and shoved her through the doorway.

Hope stumbled into the entryway and let me lead her toward the guest bedroom. I tried to imagine what my house looked like to a scared little elf.

It was dark.

I preferred it that way.

It was a reminder.

Of what I’d always been — until an elf touched me — saved me.

The lighting was dimmed; anything too bright hurt other demons’ eyes, and since they were my race and still didn’t know all there was to know about me, I kept things normal.

The décor wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, black leather couches, fur rugs, and as much alcohol as a being could have in one place without looking like they owned a bar.

We passed the gourmet kitchen I rarely cooked in, with its white marble counter tops, and red wing backed chairs. Her footsteps echoed across the wood floor until we reached the end of the hall.

“You can stay here until…” Until what? The end of the world? Until forever? “Until Alex gets better.” I settled for a lie.

“He will get better, right?” she asked in a small voice that had my damned heart beating a bit more erratically than usual.

I casually opened the door to the small bedroom and took a step inside, gathering my thoughts before finally shrugging. “I’m sure all he needs is a little sex… based on the size of the bite—” Her face paled. “—what?”

“Sex.” She gulped. “But I’m his mate.”

My nostrils flared as I took in her scent, the scent of lust… not love. “You may be bonded sexually — but not emotionally. Therefore, he can find pleasure… elsewhere.”

“But he said—”

“Forget what he said.” I growled. “It no longer matters. All that matters is keeping you safe… even if it means, I’m saving you from yourself.”

“Myself?”

“You want him, even now, I can smell it in the air. But Alex is death to you… you must understand that. He has blood on his hands, has for many years.”

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Tags: Rachel Van Dyken The Dark Ones Saga Paranormal
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