“The blood’s strong, Saetan.” She definitely was pleading now. “And you need the blood.”

“Not while you need every drop for yourself,” Saetan snarled. He tried to shift position, but with Jaenelle straddling him, he was effectively tethered. He sighed. He knew that determined look too well. She wasn’t about to let him go until he’d taken the blood.

And it occurred to him that she had her own reasons for wanting to give it beyond it being beneficial to him. She seemed more fragile—and not just physically. It was as if rejecting the blood would confirm some deep-seated fear she was trying desperately to control.

That decided him. He gently closed his mouth on her neck.

He took a long time to take very little, savoring the contact, hoping she would be fooled. When he finally lifted his head and pressed his finger against the wound to heal it, he read doubt in her eyes. Well, two could play that game.

“Where have you been, witch-child?” he asked so gently that it was a whip-crack demand.

The question effectively silenced her protest. She gave him a bland, innocent look. “Saetan, is there anything to eat?”

Stalemate, as he’d known it would be.

“Yes,” he said dryly, “I think we can come up with something.”

Jaenelle edged backward out of the chair and watched him struggle to his feet. Without a word, she fetched the cane leaning against the blackwood desk and handed it to him.

Saetan grimaced but took the cane. With one arm resting lightly around her shoulders, they left the study and the lower, rough-hewn corridors, traveled the upstairs labyrinth of hallways, and finally reached the double front doors. He led her around the side of the Hall to the Sanctuary that held the Dark Altar.

“There’s a Dark Altar next to the Hall?” Jaenelle asked as she looked around with interest.

Saetan chuckled softly as he lit the four black candles in proper order. “Actually, witch-child, the Hall is built next to the Altar.”

Her eyes widened as the stone wall behind the Altar turned to mist. “Ooohh,” she whispered in a voice as close to awe as he’d ever heard from her. “Why’s it doing that?”

“It’s a Gate,” Saetan replied, puzzled.

“A Gate?”

He pushed the words out. “A Gate between the Realms.”

“Ooohh.”

His mind stumbled. Since she’d been traveling between the Realms for years now, he’d always assumed she knew how to open the Gates. If she didn’t even know there were Gates, how in the name of Hell had she been getting into Kaeleer and Hell all this time?

He couldn’t ask. He wouldn’t ask. If he asked, she’d tell him and then he’d have to strangle her.

He held out his hand. “Walk forward through the mist. By the time you count slowly to four, we’ll be through the Gate.”

Once they were on the other side, he led her back around the side of the Hall and through the front doors.