Darkness Everlasting

by Alexandra Ivy

  She had to get out of here before all hell broke loose.

  Cursing and wrenching at the devil-wrought chains, Darcy nearly missed the faint prickles that raced over her skin and the low whisper that echoed through her mind.

  “Darcy.”

  She stilled, her heart clutching with sudden fear. “Styx. Where are you?”

  “I am close. Are you alone?”

  “Yes, but Styx it’s too dangerous,” she said, speaking aloud since she had no notion if he was actually in her mind or not. “Salvatore will be expecting you.”

  “The Weres are being distracted.”

  Darcy didn’t intend to ask what sort of distraction he had devised. She was beginning to learn that ignorance was truly bliss.

  “It doesn’t matter what the distraction, he will know you are here.”

  Darcy could actually feel his surge of emotions. “I do not fear a pack of dogs,” he replied.

  Her own raw emotions were swift to flare. Dang it. Why did men always feel as if they had to charge into battle?

  “This isn’t the time for your macho crap,” she gritted. “You’re going to make everything worse.”

  There was a resounding silence within her mind, and just for a moment she thought that he had pulled away from her. Then, a cold chill inched down her spine.

  “You do not wish to be rescued?” he demanded. “You prefer to remain?”

  Even at a distance Darcy could easily sense Styx’s grim fear. He thought she was telling him to leave because she wanted to remain with the werewolves.

  Her heart clenched as his pain was echoed within her.

  No. Oh, no.

  She had thought she needed a family to fill her heart, but that was no more than an illusion. All the love and security she would ever need could be found in the arms of her vampire.

  “Of course I don’t want to stay here,” she said softly. “But I won’t have you putting yourself in danger.”

  His rush of relief wrapped about her. “My only danger is being parted from you,” he said, a hint of steel in his voice. “I cannot survive without you.”

  “Stubborn,” she muttered. She knew that tone. He was coming to get her. And nothing, not even hell itself, was going to stop him. “Be careful.”

  His chuckle whispered through her mind. “Yes, my angel.”

  Leaning wearily back on the pillows, Darcy struggled to ease the frantic pace of her heart.

  Dang it.

  What if Salvatore was lurking in the shadows waiting to ambush him? The Were was desperate. And a desperate demon was surely a dangerous demon.

  Styx could be hurt. Even killed…

  The dreadful thought was thankfully cut off as the door was firmly pushed open and a familiar male form stepped over the threshold.

  A sharp, piercing relief flared through her as she allowed her gaze to roam avidly over the beautiful bronzed features and male body encased in black leather.

  With his raven hair pulled back in a tight braid and a long sword strapped down his back, he looked every inch the warrior, but all Darcy could see was the tender lover who had changed her life.

  “Styx,” she breathed, a strange lump forming in her throat.

  There was a low, dangerous growl as Styx prowled forward to touch her wounded wrists.

  “I will kill him,” he said, his flat tone more frightening than any shout could have been. “And it will be as slow and as painful as I can make it.”

  “No.” She turned her arm so she could grasp his cool fingers with hers. “Just get me loose so we can get out of here.” The dark eyes smoldered with suppressed violence, but his touch was gentle as he grasped the iron shackles and easily broke them in two. Scrambling off the narrow bed, she heaved a deep sigh. “Thank God.”

  Her feet barely hit the floor before she was gathered in Styx’s arms. His lips brushed her forehead, and then he pulled back to study her bruised jaw with a narrow-eyed glare.

  “You are injured.”

  Darcy grimaced as she snuggled closer to his hard body. So what if she was acting like the worst cliché? A weak, clinging woman depending on her big, tough man to save her. She was too damn happy to care.

  “Compliments of my beloved mother,” she muttered into his chest.

  His arms tightened as his cheek rested on top of her head. “I am sorry, Darcy.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s…” Darcy gave a shake of her head. “Well, she’s not anything like I imagined she would be. To be perfectly honest, I wish we had never met. I’d rather be alone in the world than to claim her as my mother.”

  “You are not alone, Darcy.” His fierce tone sent a rash of goose bumps over her skin. “You have a mate. And a family anxiously waiting for me to return you to their care.”

  Darcy couldn’t help but smile as she thought of Shay and Abby, and even their arrogant mates.

  They had revealed far more care and concern for her welfare than any of the Weres. Including her mother.

  Surely that was what made a family.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  She allowed herself to lean against his welcome strength until the sound of a throat being loudly cleared echoed through the room.

  “As much as I hate to break up this movie-of-the-week moment, I really think we should shake a leg,” a tiny voice commanded.

  With a start of joy, she turned her head to discover the small, adorable gargoyle standing in the doorway.

  “Shake a leg?” Styx demanded, his tone puzzled.

  “Chop-chop.” Levet gave a wave of his hands. “You know, get a move on it.”

  Hiding her smile, Darcy tugged herself from Styx’s arms to kneel before the gargoyle and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Levet.”

  His gray eyes lit with pleasure. “Bonjour, ma petite. I have come to save you.”

  “So I see.”

  He gave a proud flap of his wings. “You are not the first, of course. I seem to make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress. It is something of a calling.”

  Styx gave a loud snort, but Darcy regarded her friend with a somber expression of respect.

  She would never forget that this demon placed him self in harm’s way so she could escape the vampires trying to kidnap her.

  “A true knight in shining armor,” she said with un mistakable sincerity.

  Levet’s chest swelled with obvious pride. “Precisement.”

  Moving to join them at the door, Styx muttered beneath his breath before tugging Darcy back to her feet.

  “I thought you desired to… shake a leg?” he demanded of Levet.

  “Spoilsport.” Levet stuck out his tongue before turning on his heel and leading them down the dark hallway.

  Darcy followed behind his tiny form with Styx bringing up the rear. A glance over her shoulder revealed his cold, resolute expression as he prowled through the shadows. He was in full uber-Rambo alert. And God help anything that might stray across his path.

  She sent up a silent prayer that they would manage to slip from the lair unnoticed.

  Not only did she fear for Styx and Levet, but the thought of an all-out, bloody, death-to-the-end sort of battle made her stomach clench in dread.

  She might be furious with Salvatore and her mother, but she didn’t want them harmed.

  Certainly not for her sake.

  Careful not to trip over the warped planks of the floor, Darcy kept pace with Levet as he led them toward the back of the building. The heavy sense of decay only deepened as they headed down a narrow flight of stairs, and she found her gaze lifting more than once toward the low ceiling that was water stained and boasting spiders so large she half expected Frodo and Sam to appear and fight them off.

  Sheesh. She just wanted to be out of this place.

  They had made it down three flights of stairs and were creeping across the abandoned lobby when Styx flowed past them with startling speed.

  “Wait.”

  He held his arms out as he turned to pe
er toward the distant doorway. As if on cue there was a rustle of move ment, and the dark, slender form of Salvatore appeared. Darcy’s heart sank as she watched a mocking smile touch the Were’s lips. Salvatore had been deliberately waiting for them, and he intended trouble.

  “Ah, Styx.” The pureblood performed a sweeping bow. Even in the squalid surroundings he managed to appear more like a sophisticated businessman than a lethal demon. Which only went to prove that you shouldn’t ever judge a book by its cover. “Welcome to my lair, master. I was beginning to fear you would never arrive.”

  Styx spread his feet and planted his hands on his hips. His expression never altered, but there was no mistaking the deepening chill in the air.

  “Stand aside, Salvatore,” he commanded in a tone that made Darcy shiver. “As much as I long to rip your heart from your chest, I have no desire to upset Darcy.”

  “In that we are in agreement.” Salvatore sent a deliberately intimate glance in Darcy’s direction before returning his attention to Styx. “Unfortunately, you have been a thorn in my side for too long. Tonight I intend to be rid of you once and for all.”

  “Brave words, wolf. I hope you have brought more than yourself to accomplish such a task,” Styx hissed as he moved in front of Darcy. “Not even you can be stupid enough to believe you can kill me without a great deal of assistance.”

  “We shall see,” Salvatore purred.

  “As you wish.”

  “No…” Darcy reached out to grasp the back of Styx’s shirt. A worthless waste of effort. She captured nothing but air as he leaped toward the waiting Were.

  Her breath was squeezed from her lungs as the two demons crashed together with a tremendous force. For a moment she was lost in horrified fascination as the two grappled together, their muscles rippling with an unnatural power.

  They remained locked together as each tried to gain the upper hand. Styx had the advantage of size and strength, but Salvatore managed to use his speed to land a number of savage blows that would have killed a mortal.

  Despite Salvatore’s lightning-fast strikes, however, it appeared it would be a swift battle, with Styx the obvi ous victor. Then a strange shimmer surrounded the Were, and Darcy felt an echoing tingle race through her blood.

  She instinctively stepped back as Salvatore gave a hair-raising howl and began to shift.

  Lily… crap.

  It didn’t happen at once, as it had with Jade. Instead, his body seemed to fall in on itself, thickening to rip his expensive suit. Only then did his face begin to elongate and stretch as a thick fur rippled over his skin as if by magic.

  And perhaps it was magic, she acknowledged with a shudder. Although it was a painful sort of magic if the popping and snapping of his bones was any indication.

  There was perhaps a macabre beauty to the transformation, but Darcy couldn’t deny a sudden, overwhelming relief that she had been genetically altered. The huge animal that now stood in the center of the room might possess a fierce strength and powers far beyond her own, but her puberty had been difficult enough without turning into a savage beast once a month.

  Jeez. Talk about PMS.

  Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, Darcy battled back her strange fascination. Already Sal vatore was standing on his hind legs while his front paws darted deadly claws toward Styx.

  She had to stop this.

  She had to keep them from killing one another.

  Stepping forward without the least idea of how she was going to accomplish the Herculean task, Darcy was nearly brought to her knees when Levet unexpectedly wrapped his arms around her legs and refused to let go.

  “No, Darcy,” he commanded.

  She glanced down with an impatient frown. “Let me go, Levet. Someone’s going to get hurt.”

  “Oui, and if you try to interfere it will be your beloved vampire,” he rasped. “You will only distract him.”

  Her teeth snapped together as the truth of his words sank through her fog of fear.

  Dang it, Levet was right.

  The moment she placed herself in the least amount of danger Styx would shift his attention from attacking Salvatore to trying to protect her. He couldn’t help himself.

  It was like a whacky compulsion.

  She pressed her hands to her racing heart as she was forced to watch the unfolding battle.

  Styx had managed to loosen his large sword as Salvatore stalked a circle around him. Even against the pure-blooded Were, he appeared fierce and utterly invincible, but Darcy didn’t miss his wariness as he waited for Salvatore to make his move.

  No matter how formidable his skills, it was obvious he respected the danger that the Were posed.

  Long claws scraped against the wooden floor as Sal vatore feinted a charge and then leaped to the side as the sword slashed through the air. As he moved the Were snapped his teeth directly at Styx’s neck.

  Styx easily danced from the attack that would no doubt have torn out his throat, his sword altering course to strike directly at Salvatore’s heart.

  Smoothly the Were stepped out of the path of the sword, and with a movement too fast for the eye, he leaped over Styx and swiped his claws down the vampire’s back.

  Darcy let out a squeak of alarm, but with Levet clamped onto her legs, she was unable to rush forward.

  Styx stumbled, but with alarming grace he was spinning about, the sword slicing through Salvatore’s side before the Were could leap back.

  They continued circling one another, but even in the darkness Darcy could smell the unmistakable odor of blood. Both vampire and Were.

  “Levet,” she rasped, “do something.”

  His short fingers dug into her thighs. “I cannot, cherie. It will be over soon.”

  “When Styx is dead?” she hissed.

  “He will not fail, Darcy,” the gargoyle promised. “You must have faith.”

  “Faith.”

  She pressed her hands to her lips as Salvatore made another charge, the force of his movement sending both combatants onto the floor. The wooden planks groaned in protest as they rolled over and over, their fangs sinking deep into one another as they both sought to strike the killing blow. Or in this case, the killing bite.

  Darcy’s stomach clenched as the smell of blood became strong enough to choke her. They were both taking injuries. Some of them ghastly enough to threaten their very existence.

  A howl split the air as Salvatore gave a mighty shove and managed to roll on top of Styx and pin him to the floor. In the shadows she could make out the muscles bulging beneath the thick fur that covered Salvatore’s body and the white flash of his long teeth.

  Even worse she could swear that the black eyes were smoldering with a very human hatred.

  He wanted Styx dead. And it went way beyond his need for her.

  Unaware that tears were dampening her cheeks, Darcy bit her lip and shifted her attention to Styx. There were streaks of blood on his bronzed skin and a tightness to his features that revealed he wasn’t impervious to his wounds. But his expression was more one of grim determination than fear.

  Silently she willed her strength to him. A futile task, no doubt, but at the moment she could do little else.

  Sensing he held the advantage, Salvatore opened his jaws wide preparing to strike at Styx’s vulnerable throat Darcy gasped, horrified by the length of the Were’s teeth. They could surely cause more harm than Styx could possibly heal.

  Her scream was lodged in her throat when Salvatore darted his head downward. In that precise moment Styx wrested his arm free and plunged his sword through the back of the Were.

  Terror turned to horror as Darcy watched the silver blade slide through Salvatore’s body and protrude from his chest.

  Oh, cripes.

  A howl echoed through the room as Salvatore tumbled backward off of Styx and curled onto his side. The blood gushed from his wound even as a shimmer surrounded his body.

  Darcy knew what was about to occur before his body ever began its shift bac
k to human form. It prickled through her blood as if calling to her.

  It was a slow and painful transformation, and Darcy’s tender heart was breaking as Styx rose to his feet and casually moved to pull his sword free of the Were’s body.

  No matter what Salvatore had done to her, or even the fact that he had so recently been attempting to kill Styx, she couldn’t make herself feel anything but pity-as he shuddered in agony.

  Her hands lowered to grip Levet’s shoulders as Styx stood over his vanquished opponent, his sword held in a formal position in front of his body and his expression coldly aloof. It was impossible to know what was passing through his mind as he stared down at the now naked man King at his feet.

  As if aware of Styx’s looming form, Salvatore gave a choked cough and forced open his eyes.

  “End it, vampire,” he muttered.

  Offering a faint bow, Styx began to raise his sword.

  “Styx… no!” Darcy cried, relieved when Levet grudgingly released his imprisoning hold so she could move forward. With stumbling steps, she reached Styx’s side and grasped his arm. “Please, don’t kill him.”

  For a heartbeat Darcy thought that Styx intended to ignore her plea. Standing so close to him, she couldn’t fail to sense the taut fury that radiated from his stiff body.

  After a tension-fraught moment, the dark head slowly turned and pinned her with a smoldering gaze.

  “He will remain a threat to you as long as he lives,” he growled.

  A wise woman would have immediately fled from the sight of Styx’s fully extended fangs and blood-splattered face. There was a savagery in the cast of his features that would terrify the stoutest heart.

  She didn’t so much as flinch, however, as she pressed her fingers into the granite hardness of his arm.

  She would never fear this man.

  Not even when he was in full vampire mode.

  “He can’t hurt me as long as I have you to protect me,” she pointed out softly. “Please.”

  He glared down at her pleading expression before he gave a low hiss of annoyance.

  “Bloody hell.” Lowering his sword, he shifted his glare to the wounded Salvatore. “Remember this, wolf, if you so much as cross paths with Darcy I will not hesitate. You will be dead before you can take a breath.”