Page 72 of His Eternal Temptation

Rowan nodded, hard as stone once more. “It also means we can’t confirm how many heartbeats are inside before we go in. The witch who cast the silencing spell could be here, working with him. Others too.”

None of the vampires seemed concerned by this setback. Lane wanted to beg them to wait, to figure out how many people their enemy had at his side before they went ahead. But it seemed once vampires decided to act, they were all go, like hesitation was a mortal trait they no longer possessed.

“I don’t see any obvious security cameras,” Jack was saying. “Let’s go before anyone notices we’ve arrived.”

Rowan placed a hand on the door handle. “Everyone ready?” The vampires nodded. “Jack and Evangeline, walk the perimeter and cover any back entrances. This vampire got Emile, so don’t split up. Cecile with Kai. I’ll stick with Lane. Everyone else at top speed.”

“Got it,” Jack and Evangeline said in unison. Cecile and Kai nodded.

They climbed from the SUV, splitting off into four and two. Rowan led the way to the door they’d passed at the front of the warehouse as Jack and Evangeline disappeared in a blur of motion.

Lane scanned the door for spells. “All clear.”

Rowan pushed it open, casually breaking the lock with inhuman strength. The resulting crack echoed through the space within. He quickly entered, and Lane followed into the dark interior.

Cecile and Kai disappeared at vampire speed, swallowed completely by the gloom. Lane couldn’t see nearly as well as the rest of them, but the space seemed open and mostly empty with large, irregular shapes looming to one side.

A crash came from the far end of the warehouse. Lane couldn’t see a damn thing. Was it Cecile and Kai? Jack and Evangeline? Or someone else?

Rowan moved, slow and steady, toward the center of the space. “I hear multiple heartbeats. At least seven, maybe eight, but Jack and Evangeline may still be outside.”

So there were at least two others in there with them, possibly more. Lane held his magic at the ready, casting out for any sign of spells or magical beings.

His power tingled, and he grabbed Rowan’s arm, pointing left, his voice a whisper. “One over there.”

Machinery rose out of the gloom, hiding the magical presence Lane detected. He sensed it was a person, not a spell, but they could be a witch or vampire.

“By the machines,” Rowan muttered. It took Lane a second to realize he was speaking for Cecile and Kai’s benefit, whose enhanced hearing would detect the whisper.

If the ferals’ sire were here, he’d hear it too.

Lane’s pulse thumped as he and Rowan moved closer. The magic presence shifted, and Lane pointed, Rowan following with keen eyes.

A light flared, and a figure stepped out from behind a large metal tank. Lane squinted against the sudden brightness, his eyes struggling to adjust.

“You’re surrounded,” Rowan announced without missing a beat. “Surrender yourself.”

“Vampire tricks won’t work on me,” the person said. Was Rowan using hypnosis? Was this the sire? If so, why was his voice familiar? “You’re going to have to try harder,” he sneered. “What—what the Devil? Lane Blackburn?”

Lane blinked furiously against the harsh glare, and the man came into focus, his face one Lane would never forget. “Hillman! You cursed me!”

Rowan went deathly still at his side.

The Hillman witch’s shock dissolved into cruel amusement. “I don’t know how you survived, but it seems I was right. You ran straight to the Valeros.”

What? He tried to kill me to keep this from Rowan? Not my father? Lane’s thoughts seemed to stick. Why was he here?

The Hillman witch raised his arms, and magic swelled in the air. Blood rushed in Lane’s ears, and the world around him fell away. His chest tightened with strangling force, and the bone-deep cold from the night he’d nearly died took hold.

No. He couldn’t be cursed again. He had to fight. Move. Do anything. Why was his mind blank of spells? Rowan disappeared from Lane’s side, and he stumbled, shocked by the loss.

A blur shot across toward his attacker, and a sickening crack echoed through the air, penetrating the pounding in Lane’s head. Then, Rowan was there, holding the Hillman witch by either side of his head, his body dangling limp. He tossed the man aside, and he crumpled to the ground, dead.

Lane’s chest loosened, and he rushed forward. “You snapped his neck.”

Rowan cupped Lane’s face, his eyes glowing fiercely, voice low and lethal. “He hurt you.”

Holy damn, Lane almost swooned. “You saved me.” Rowan’s touch burned, and Lane wanted desperately to kiss him, squeeze him tight, and not let go. He shook himself. Now wasn’t the time.