Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

you.”
    Ellie returned to her stool. “Look, it’s just like when the Law comes around asking about a still or a lab. Even if I’m caught with a jar of shine in my hand, I’ll deny it. I turn into a brick wall. I’m not the weak link here—”
    “I smell witch blood,” Lothaire intoned from behind them.
    The fey whirled around a little quickly, but Ellie was an expert at this. “Yeah, I cannot believe you freaks ship shit like that through the USPS.” She drummed her nails on the counter. “I plan to report you when I escape.”
    “Uh-huh.” Lothaire narrowed his eyes at Hag. “What potion called for witch’s blood?”
    “I strengthened the boundary spell against them specifically after you told me of the bounty. The House will stop at nothing to capture Elizabeth.”
    He scrutinized Hag’s face, clearly suspicious. “Such foresight.”
    “I am an oracle.”
    Good one.
    “How goes your search, Lothaire?” Hag asked.
    “I get closer.” He turned that penetrating gaze to Ellie. “Saroya?”
    “Not a peep.”
    “If I find out you have held her back . . .”
    “Dang it, I’m not!”
    Lothaire evinced the most terrifying look that Ellie had ever seen on a man. It gave her chills, made her want to dive for cover. Then he disappeared.
    Ellie was about to exhale a pent-up breath when she remembered an old cops’ trick. “Straight face, Hag. He’s coming right back.”

20
    T hey’re up to something.
    Lothaire returned to Hag’s home seconds later to catch them sharing a confidence, a look of relief. . . .
    He’d made himself invisible, but he merely found the fey stirring her pot while Elizabeth continued to drum her nails on the counter.
    With narrowed eyes, Lothaire returned to his task. Yes, up to something. But he didn’t have the time—or the clarity—to delve.
    Over the last few hours, he’d covered miles, racing outward from Riora’s empty temple through an ancient forest.
    Since he could only trace to places he’d previously been or places he could see, he had difficulty covering large amounts of ground. It was almost as easy to run, following the trails animals made as they fled his presence. Even other predators fear me. . . .
    Though this task could help him complete his Endgame, he found his thoughts drifting to Elizabeth yet again, this time to the look of longing on her face as she’d stared at the sea.
    His satisfaction over that had proved curiously less than he’d expected.
    Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Or how she’d melted for him earlier at the apartment?
    Because even I look like an option.
    He’d never had trouble with females before. Now two had come into his life, as if solely to plague him.
    One didn’t seem to desire him; the other did, but only because she’d been deprived of any male. That mouth of yourn feels so good. . . .
    What would he do if Saroya still hadn’t risen by tonight? Betray his Bride?
    Lothaire’s need to be faithful wasn’t for sentimental reasons, but for logical ones. He’d studied the truly great kings and queens in the Lore, and historically, royal couples who amassed power together did not sleep with others.
    The males didn’t take concubines. The females didn’t secretly slip into others’ beds.
    The pair presented a united front to the world, with no cracks in their foundation for enemies to worm their way into. Each demonstrated utter loyalty—only to the other.
    Lothaire couldn’t argue with facts.
    He’d expected this unity with Saroya, had planned for it. But technically , Elizabeth and Saroya were one and the same. If his Bride didn’t see the difference, then perhaps he shouldn’t scruple over it. He could enjoy Elizabeth and still be faithful—
    He tensed, catching the shifter pack’s scent. He tracked it to a den entrance, then plunged inside.
    Into the earth. Stay focused. Five ash vines. In. Out.
    He followed a tunnel to a vaultlike cavern—their central gathering place, with offshoot passageways in all directions. Around a fire, bedding covered the ground, and stone benches lined the walls.
    Roots dangled from the ceiling like grasping fingers. The earth grinding over me . . .
    Block out that memory. Or stare into the abyss. Block it out. Focus!
    He scented mortals somewhere deeper in the cavern. Their slaves.
    The shifters began to emerge from other tunnels. Dozens surrounded him, all in their human forms, but tensed with aggression.
    The largest one, the alpha, said, “A vampire dares