The larger man stepped forward only to come to a sharp halt as Salvatore reached out to grasp his arm.
“No.”
“But…”
“He’s obviously here as a spy for the vampires.” Salvatore’s gaze remained upon the gargoyle, who was shaking his tail and still muttering. “It is only polite to ensure that he has something to take back to his master.”
Hess quivered with outrage. “Have you lost your mind? We should kill him.”
“Really, Hess.” Salvatore sighed. Curs. “You’re always so eager to solve your problems with violence when diplomacy would serve you so much better.”
“When you kill your enemies, you don’t need diplomacy.”
“And what good does a corpse do you?” Salvatore demanded.
Hess growled deep in his throat. “They lie on the ground and don’t cause trouble.”
“A lesson, my friend,” Salvatore drawled. “A wise man can use everyone. Even his enemies.”
A strained beat passed as Hess struggled to make his brain function. “The gargoyle?”
“And through him his master,” Salvatore murmured, a smile touching his lips.
“You were quick enough to fire an arrow at the vampire,” the cur groused.
Salvatore shrugged. He couldn’t deny that he had taken great pleasure in putting the arrogant bastard on the ground. The only pity was that he hadn’t managed to kill him.
“Well, he did make such an irresistible target,” he drawled. “Tonight, however, I intend to use another sort of arrow to shoot at the Anasso.”
“What will you do?”
“Let me worry about the gargoyle,” Salvatore commanded. “I want you to make sure your curs don’t stumble over him. We want the tiny demon to believe that he managed to slip in and out undetected.”
Hess hesitated before giving a shrug and slipping through the darkness. The cur might prefer a more bloodthirsty response to the intruder, but he possessed enough intelligence to do as he was told.
Dismissing his servant from his mind, Salvatore returned his attention to the gargoyle, who was carefully making his way across the damp floor.
A smile touched his dark face.
On this occasion the mountain was about to come to Mohammed.
—
Darcy breathed a deep sigh of contentment. She hadn’t intended to seduce Styx when she had come in search of him. Or at least not consciously. But what woman could have watched such male perfection flowing about the small arena and not have her passions stirred?
Especially a woman who had gone so many years denying herself the least hint of intimacy.
Moreover, she couldn’t make herself feel guilty.
Her life was too often filled with loneliness and disappointment. Why not enjoy the unexpected flashes of happiness that came her way? She would live in the moment and damn the consequences.
Lying on the soft mat still wrapped in Styx’s arms, it was easy to live in the moment.
Feeling utterly content, she touched the strange amulet that he wore around his neck before lifting her head to meet his smoldering gaze.
“Are you suitably vanquished?” she murmured softly.
A slow smile curved his lips. “I claim defeat, although I must admit that I feel far more like the victor.”
Heat tingled to her very toes. “Strange, so do I.”
“Why did you leave my bed this evening?” His finger lightly traced her lips. “I missed you when I awoke.”
“You were injured and you needed your sleep. Besides, I’m not much of a lying in bed kind of girl.”
“Something I intend to change,” he murmured.
“And how do you intend to do that?”
His arms tightened about her. “If you want me to demonstrate we could return to my rooms.”
She chuckled. “I think any demonstrations should wait until later. Unlike you, I’m human enough to need some time to recuperate.”
“You are far more than merely human.”
She stiffened. She couldn’t help it. The mystery of what and who she was would haunt her until she discovered the truth.
“Perhaps more, but what? That is the question. Not even Shay could tell me.”
It was Styx’s turn to stiffen, his expression becoming guarded. “So you met Shay?”
“As if you didn’t know. You no doubt smelled her the minute she arrived on the doorstep.” Darcy gave a shake of her head. “That’s really starting to freak me out.”
“Shay on our doorstep?”
“No, the whole smelling thing. It isn’t really polite, you know.”
He shrugged, sending a ripple of muscle beneath her hand. Nice.
“Most demons use their sense of smell for survival. Did you… enjoy her visit?”
“Very much.” Darcy smiled as she thought of the beautiful half demon. “I like her.”
“I suppose she can be charming when she chooses,” he grudgingly conceded.
She shifted onto her elbow so she could peer down at his tight expression. Her heart gave a small jerk at the sheer beauty of his dark, lean features.
It wouldn’t matter if she stayed with this vampire for an eternity, she would never get used to his fierce splendor.
“I already got the idea that the two of you have issues,” she said, her tone husky.
“Issues.” His nose wrinkled. “Yes, you could say that. She no doubt warned you that I’m a heartless bastard.”
“She did.”
He shifted his hand to cup her cheek, his gaze searching. “And yet you sought me out.”
“It would appear that I did.”
A frown touched his brow. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“I cannot imagine another woman who would not hate and fear me.” His hand tightened on her cheek. “Not only am I a vampire, but I have taken you captive and hold you here against your will.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “And don’t forget you intend to hand me over to a pack of werewolves.”
“That is far from decided,” he growled. “Salvatore has made no effort to negotiate. Until he does, there will be no discussion of you going anywhere.”
Her gaze dropped to his amulet, which she absently stroked. “Still, you are right. I should fear and resent you.”
He flinched at her blunt words. “So why do you not?”
Why, indeed.
Darcy sucked in a deep breath. “To be honest, I don’t know exactly. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t truly felt like a captive. After all, you haven’t locked me in my room, you’ve made sure that your housekeeper always has my favorite foods, and you did send poor Levet out into the snow to retrieve my plants.” She gave a shrug. “Or perhaps it’s because I don’t think like most people.”
He gave a lift of his brows. “You don’t?”
She laughed. “No surprise, huh?”
His features softened. “I believe you are a woman who follows her heart rather than her head.”
“Meaning that I’m impulsive and utterly lacking in common sense most of the time,” she agreed dryly.
“Meaning that you are kind and compassionate and capable of seeing something good even in those who don’t deserve your sympathy.” His hand moved to curl his fingers around the back of her neck. “Even a cold-hearted, ruthless vampire.”
Darcy gave a slow shake of her head. “You are not coldhearted, Styx. Quite the opposite.”
His lips thinned. “There are few who would agree with you, angel.”
“Only because you go out of your way to appear ruthless,” she pointed out. “No doubt it assists you to be seen as a capable leader, but I know differently.”
“Do you?” He studied her with a bemused fascination.
“Yes.” Darcy considered a long moment, realizing the true reason she could not look on him as her enemy. “Everything you do, including kidnapping me, is done for the welfare of your people. They are your family. Your responsibility and duty. And you would do anything, e
ven die, to protect them. I respect you for that. And I hope that… if I had a family I would do the same.”
Something flashed deep in his eyes. “Angel…” The sound of pounding on the door brought his words to an abrupt halt. “Dammit, DeAngelo, go away.”
“Master,” the deep, emotionless voice floated through the heavy door, “you have petitioners.”
“Petitioners?” Darcy inquired.
With a grimace Styx flowed to his feet, his naked body glowing with a bronzed perfection in the muted light.
“Vampires who seek justice. I fear I must attend to this.”
Darcy struggled against the urge to run her hands over the chiseled line of his leg. Damn DeAngelo and his interruption. She didn’t want Styx running off. Not when he was looking delectable enough to eat.
Unfortunately, she understood that Styx possessed duties that were beyond the both of them.
“It’s tough being king, eh?” she sighed.
“More often than not,” he muttered, pulling on his leather pants and boots before regarding her with a fierce gaze. “Will you be here when I return?” She smiled wryly. “Is there anywhere I can go?” He bent down to steal a sweetly gentle kiss. “Not anywhere that I wouldn’t find you.”
“Somehow I knew that.”
Styx couldn’t deny a fierce disappointment at being torn from Darcy’s side. Peculiar. He had already sated his passion as well as his bloodlust. There was no reasonable need to linger in her company.
Of course, nothing about his relationship with Darcy was reasonable, he wryly acknowledged.
It went far beyond the need for sex or blood. It even went beyond discovering the truth of why she was so important to the Weres.
The truth of the matter was that his life was different when Darcy was close.
He was more than a grim guardian, or all-powerful leader of the vampires.
He was… a man.
A man who had long ago forgotten just how precious a true companion could be.
A delicious, beautiful, sweet companion who was clearly out of her mind to offer a dangerous vampire such ready affection.
Giving a shake of his head, Styx forced his thoughts from Darcy and attempted to concentrate upon the matters at hand.
As much as he longed to sweep Darcy to his rooms and lock out the world, his duties could not be forgotten.
Smoothing back his hair, he reached for the heavy black robe that DeAngelo held in his hands.
“Who are the petitioners?” Styx demanded as he slipped on the robe and mounted the steps that led to the kitchen.
DeAngelo’s pale features were unreadable. If he possessed any opinion on his master’s unmistakable obses sion with their prisoner, he was wise enough not to reveal it.
Smart vampire.
“They have called themselves Victoria and Uther,” he murmured.
“I don’t recognize the names.”
“ They have traveled from Australia.”
“Is it a land dispute?”
“Actually I believe it is more of a…”
Entering the kitchen, Styx came to a halt and regarded DeAngelo with a frown.
“What?”
“Personal dispute.”
“And they bring it to me?” Styx gave a growl of an noyance. “I am the Anasso, not…”
“Ann Landers?” DeAngelo offered, with a faint smile.
“Who?”
“Never mind.” Unlike Styx, the younger vampire had not cut himself off completely from the world over the past centuries. Thankfully, however, he rarely bored his master with tedious fads or fashions. “They have come to seek asylum.”
“Why do they not go to Viper? I have no clan.”
“No, but you can offer them protection from their chief.” DeAngelo’s expression became grim. “He has called for a Blood Challenge.”
Styx gave a lift of his brow. A Blood Challenge was a one-on-one battle to the death. A challenge that should not be undertaken lightly, even by a clan chief.
“What is his charge?”
“He has claimed that they conspire to take over his clan.” DeAngelo gave a lift of his shoulder. “They deny his accusation and say that the clan chief has discovered they are lovers and wishes to halt their determination to become mates.”
“The clan chief wants this Victoria for himself?” Styx demanded.
“Uther,” DeAngelo corrected.
“Ah.” Styx heaved a faint sigh. The last thing he desired was to be drawn into some domestic squabble. Especially when that domestic squabble was keeping him from Darcy. Unfortunately, the mere fact that a Blood Challenge had been issued forced him to take the matter under consideration. Dammit. “I will see them,” he muttered, forcing himself toward the front of the house, where he could sense the vampires waiting for him.
Entering the living room, he watched the tall, black-haired woman and towering Viking as they lowered themselves to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the carpet.
“My lord,” they intoned in unison.
Styx stifled a sigh and set his features into aloof lines. “Rise, Victoria and Uther, and reveal why you seek the justice of the Anasso.”
Chapter Eleven
It was nearing dawn when Darcy left the solarium and entered the kitchen. She had seen nothing of Styx since he had been called away by his petitioners, and she could only assume that he was still closeted with them.
For a time she had regretted the knowledge she could not watch Styx play at being king.
She didn’t doubt he looked very imposing as he disposed justice to those beneath him.
A proud warrior seated on his royal throne.
Then her common sense managed to kick into gear.
She didn’t know much about vampire justice, but she was fairly certain it didn’t include warm, fuzzy sessions with a psychiatrist, or any sort of community service.
It more than likely included swords and blood and swift retribution.
Not at all her sort of thing.
Wandering into the kitchen, Darcy plucked an apple from one of the cabinets and abruptly turned as the outer door was thrown open and Levet waddled into the room muttering curses beneath his breath.
She gave a small shiver as the frigid air rushed into the room.
“Good heavens, you look frozen,” she said as she moved to close the door. As much as she loved snow-she didn’t want it filling the kitchen.
“No doubt because I am frozen,” Levet muttered. He gave a shake of his wings to rid himself of the clinging ice. “One of these days I fully intend to stick that obnoxious vampire in a freezer and see how he likes being a demon Popsicle.”
Darcy gathered a towel and began to gently dry the rough gray skin.
“Styx sent you out again?”
“Do you think I willingly tromp about in the snow?”
“Why would he do such a thing?” she demanded in annoyance. Really, what was Styx thinking? The poor gargoyle was nearly blue with cold.
“Oh…” A strangely wary expression rippled over the lumpy features. “Just a small errand. Where is the lord and master?”
“Sitting on his throne.”
Levet gave a startled blink. “I fear to even ask what you mean.”
With a chuckle Darcy tossed aside the towel. “He is dealing out justice to some vampires who arrived.”
“Sacre bleu. Just like a vampire to send me out in the snow, and then expect me to kick my heels until he is prepared to see me.”
Watching the gargoyle stomp toward the table, Darcy noticed the large envelope he clutched in his hand. A strange chill inched down her spine.
Obviously he had some information for Styx. Information that might very well have to do with her.
“You still have not told me what you were doing,” she reminded her companion softly.
Levet paused, his expression troubled. “I am not certain that your captor would wish me to share what I have discovered.”
“And?”
; There was another pause before the gargoyle gave a sudden smile. “And so of course I will happily share whatever you wish to know.”
Darcy returned the smile. She had known from the beginning she was going to like this tiny demon.
“Tell me where you’ve been,” she demanded.
A hint of smugness touched Levet’s smile. “While your so brave champion was still recovering from his near fatal wound, I managed to slip into the werewolf lair.”
Aha, she knew it.
She managed to look suitably impressed. “How very clever, not to mention brave, of you.”
Levet gave a flap of his wings. “Ah well. I have some thing of a reputation for being astonishingly courageous when the situation demands it.”
“I can understand why.” Darcy’s gaze shifted to the envelope in his hand. “Did you discover anything of value?”
“It is certainly intriguing.”
“May I see?” She held out her hand, her brows lifting as he hesitated. “Levet?”
He grimaced as he heaved a rumbling sigh. “I suppose you must see them at some point, although I’ll no doubt find my manly parts chiseled off when I awaken.”
The chill traveled to the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t imagine what the Weres might possess that would concern her. And she had to admit that there was a small part of her that felt a measure of unease.
Secrets were dangerous beasts.
They could reach out and bite a person when least expected.
Still, she had to know. She simply had to.
“What is it?” she rasped.
With an awkward motion the gargoyle shoved the envelope into her hand. “Here.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she settled in one of the wooden chairs that were set around the table. It seemed a wise precaution, since her knees already felt weak.
After opening the envelope, she pulled out a stack of photos and spread them on the table.
“Cripes,” she breathed, her gaze narrowing as she regarded the numerous pictures. They were all of her, and all taken over the past two weeks. Her in the grocery store. Her in the park. Her in her small apartment (thank God in the kitchen, not the bathroom). A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. “They have been spying on me. That’s just… creepy.”
“There is more,” Levet said softly.
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