"You are smarter than you look, demon," Styx growled.
Waiting until the gargoyle had scuttled from the kitchen, Styx turned on his heel and headed through the distant door.
By the gods, he would not be mocked by a miniature gargoyle.
He was a grown man, and if he desired to take care with his appearance, it was no one's concern but his own.
It had nothing to do with his beautiful captive.
He gave a small grimace.
All right. Maybe it did have something to do with Darcy. Maybe it had everything to do with Darcy. But it was still not the concern of a busybody gargoyle.
Making his way through the dark house, he paused at one of the unused bedrooms to gather a thick brocade robe left behind by Viper before returning to the hall and opening the door to Darcy's room.
He stepped within only to come to an abrupt halt on the threshold.
A sharp stab of unease clenched his chest as his gaze moved over the rumpled, empty bed and the equally empty room.
Had she slipped away while he had slept? Had Salvatore managed to sneak through the security and take her?
On the point of calling for every vampire in the state to begin an all-out search, Styx paused as he caught the unmistakable scent of fresh flowers.
"Angel?" he said softly.
The door to the connecting bathroom opened and Darcy entered the room covered in nothing more than a fluffy white towel.
Styx clenched his hands at his sides as his fangs instinctively lengthened.
There wasn't much of her, even for a human. Still, he couldn't deny a fierce fascination with the pale, delicate limbs and faint curves annoyingly hidden beneath the towel. And that face . . .
His body hardened as he studied the wide, innocent eyes and the full lips. Lips that made a man dream of having them exploring all sorts of intimate places.
"Cripes." Not seeming to share his immediate flare of desire, she clutched the towel tighter and glared at him in annoyance. "Have you ever heard of knocking? Even a prisoner should be allowed some privacy."
He ignored her bad temper as he moved forward to hold out his gift.
"I brought you a robe. I thought you might wish to have something to cover you so that you can leave these chambers."
She tentatively took the beautiful garment and regarded it with an odd expression.
"I'm sorry," she at last said softly.
"What?" '
"I'm not usually so bitchy." She lifted her head and offered a wry smile. "And despite the fact that you totally deserve it, being angry is bad for my karma."
He gave a bemused shake of his head. He could speak a hundred languages fluently, but he was beginning to suspect that Darcy spoke a language entirely her own.
"Your karma?"
She shrugged. "You know, my life force."
"Ah." Styx smiled wryly. "I fear I don't recall any life force I might have had."
Her expression was more curious than horrified at the reminder that Styx was no longer human.
"You were a human once, weren't you?" she demanded.
"A very long time ago."
"But you don't remember?"
"No." Styx struggled to concentrate. Hell, what man wouldn't struggle when there was a beautiful, half-naked woman standing so close he was wrapped in the scent of her warm, tempting skin? "When a human is ... transformed into a vampire there is no memory of any past life."
"No memory at all?"
"None."
"That's strange."
He smiled wryly. "No more strange than waking up a vampire in the first place."
"How did it happen?" She ran an absent hand through her short, spiky hair. Styx had always liked long hair on women, but the style seemed to suit the tiny, pixie face. Not to mention the fact that it gave a delicious view of her slender neck. "I mean, how do you become a vampire?"
Styx paused. As a rule vampires rarely discussed their heritage with others. It wasn't precisely a secret, but most demons were by nature secretive.
In this moment, however, he was far more concerned about reassuring Darcy that neither his touch nor his bite would turn her into a vampire.
"It only occurs when a vampire drains a human completely," he confessed. "Most die, of course, but on rare occasions a human will share enough of the vampire's essence to rise again. There is no way to know which human will survive and which will perish."
"So you were dead?"
"Quite dead."
Her brow furrowed as she attempted to accept the difficult truth. "And now?"
"Now?" He shrugged. "I live."
"For all eternity?"
He smiled. "There are never any guarantees."
She gave a small nod, silently mulling over his words. "And what about werewolves? How are they made?"
Styx frowned. Her interest in the demons that were desperate to get their hands on her was understandable, but he didn't care for the thought of her brooding on the undoubtedly handsome Salvatore.
"There are true werewolves, or purebloods, as they prefer to be called," he grudgingly revealed. "They are born to a mated pair of Weres and are very rare. Then there are curs. They are humans who have been infected by a werewolf and managed to survive the attack. They are far less powerful than purebloods and have little control over their instincts."
Darcy abruptly sat on the edge of the bed. "So there are vampires and werewolves just roaming around everywhere?"
Styx resisted the urge to join her on the bed. As difficult as it might be to admit, he was not at all certain he could depend on his once flawless control.
It was downright embarrassing.
"Vampires and werewolves and a great number of other demons," he muttered without thinking.
"How many other demons?"
"Hundreds."
There was a sharp intake of breath as she regarded him with disbelief. "How come no one knows?"
Realizing that he wasn't being precisely comforting, Styx grimaced. Maybe the damn gargoyle was right. He had a great deal to learn when it came to having a young woman beneath his roof.
"Vampires are capable of altering the memories of humans they encounter, and most demons can hide their presence entirely." He studied her intently. "Besides, most mortals would rather convince themselves that the supernatural world is nothing more than a figment of their imagination."
She smiled, but it held such a deep sadness that it made Styx's heart clench with an odd sensation.
"I suppose that's true enough," she whispered. "No one believed me. Even my psychiatrist refused to accept that I was truly different. Not even when I showed him how swiftly I healed. He swore it was no more than a parlor trick that I had concocted to draw attention to myself. He said it was a simple need for self-validation."
Styx heaved a sigh. Well, there was nothing like taking a bad situation and making it worse. Perhaps it was time to retreat and regroup.
"After you change will you join me in the kitchen for dinner?"
She slowly rose to her feet, making a visible effort to shrug off her dark mood. She even managed a faint smile.
"As long as I'm not on the menu."
"I have blood," he assured her as he moved forward. Unable to resist temptation, he lightly reached out to touch her cheek. "Although I will not apologize for drinking from you. Nor will I deny that I wish to hold you in my arms and taste you again." He touched her lips with his finger as she tried to interrupt. "But I will not force you. Not ever." He bent down to brush his lips across her mouth before turning and making his way to the door. "I will await you downstairs."
Darcy waited until Styx had silently closed the door before returning to the bathroom to exchange the towel for the robe.
Common sense warned her to stay in her rooms. When she was alone she could easily remember that Styx was a coldhearted vampire who fully intended to use her to suit his own purposes.
When he was near ...
Well, when he was near all she could th
ink about was just how much she had enjoyed his touch, his kisses ... his bite.
And the stark loneliness that lurked deep in his black eyes.
A loneliness that could equal her own. A loneliness that tugged dangerously at her heart.
Drat it all.
Still, common sense couldn't compete with her natural instinct to be rid of the confining chambers. One of her foster mothers had called her a wood sprite for her habit of sneaking from the house, even in the middle of the night, to be beneath the open sky.
No matter how luxurious her surroundings she needed space.
Entering the black and ivory bathroom, she placed the robe on the marble vanity and was reaching for the knot she had tied in her towel when a hand was placed over her mouth and the feel of a hot, hard body was pressed against her back.
"Shhh," a male voice whispered in her ear. A voice she instantly recognized as Salvatore's. "I will not harm you."
She jerked free and spun about to glare at the werewolf. He was just as handsome as she remembered, although he had chosen tight black pants and a thin black sweater instead of his silk suit.
He was also just as dangerous.
Even in the muted light the gold eyes shimmered with warning, and the lean face was even more predatory with the dark hair pulled into a short tail at his nape.
A brief, hysterical urge to scream raced through her mind only to be dismissed.
If he wanted to hurt her, then screaming wasn't going to change a damn thing. The vampire guarding her door would find nothing more than a bloody corpse if Salvatore decided he wanted her dead.
Maybe less.
Sucking in a deep breath, she forced herself to square her shoulders and meet that disturbing gaze without flinching.
If she was going to die it would be with a bit of pride intact. (Hey, she had watched enough old westerns to know that that was important.)
"For goodness sake, what is it with you guys and sneaking up on people?" she demanded.
A smile touched his lips, as if he was pleased with her display of courage.
"I wished to speak with you in private."
Her gaze narrowed. "How did you get in here?"
He shifted with a languid grace to lean against the door, a slow smile revealing his startling white teeth.
The security system is good, but not good enough. There is no place I can't get into if I wish."
"Hardly a skill to take great pride in."
"It is only one of many, I assure you," he drawled, his gaze deliberately roaming over her near-naked body.
Well, freaking bully for him.
"What do you want?"
His eyes narrowed. No doubt he was shocked that she hadn't melted at his feet. Granted, he was melt-worthy. He was the sort of gorgeous, sexy, dangerous man whom most women found irresistible.
Unfortunately for him, Darcy already had her hands filled with another gorgeous, sexy, dangerous man.
One per century was her limit.
Salvatore studied her for a long moment, as if reevaluating just how to deal with her. A fairly common occurrence.
"I know you were taken against your will by the vampire," he said. "I intend to rescue you."
She regarded him warily. She didn't believe for a minute that his idea of a rescue would match her own.
"Now?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Actually, yeah. It's a problem."
"Why?"
"Because I don't trust you."
His features hardened. There was a restless energy that hummed about him and filled the air with heat.
"And you trust the vampire?"
She smiled wryly. "I think it's more a matter of the 'devil you know.' So far he hasn't harmed me."
"So far? Are you willing to risk your life on a vampire's whim?"
Darcy shrugged. It sounded incredibly stupid when he said it like that. Then again, would it be any less stupid to allow herself to be rescued by a werewolf who had started all her troubles in the first place?
"Why would you want to rescue me?" she abruptly demanded.
There was a tight silence, as if he was debating whether or not to simply toss her over his shoulder and be done with it.
Darcy tensed, quite prepared to scream, but he gave a shake of his head.
"Would you believe that I'm just a good guy?"
"Not for a minute."
He gave a soft, husky laugh. "I will not deny that I have need of you."
"What would a werewolf need with me?"
He straightened as his heat spread through the room and washed over her bare skin.
"You know?"
Darcy swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned the whole werewolf thing. That might be the sort of information he didn't want bandied about.
Still, it was too late to pretend ignorance now.
"Yes."
Salvatore leaned forward and sniffed the air about her. "You don't seem particularly frightened."
She took a step back. She had encountered any number of oddballs over the years. Hell, most people considered her an oddball. But she wasn't quite comfortable with being sniffed.
"If you wanted to hurt me you could have done so already."
"You're right." The tension in the air eased and the enticing smile returned. "I have no desire to hurt you. In fact, I will kill anything and anyone who attempts to harm you."
"Yes, well . . . that's psychotically reassuring, but you still haven't told me why you have been following me."
"I will tell you once I have you free of the vampire. If he were to know your worth he would most certainly kill you."
Great. Just great.
That was all she needed. A reason for a dangerous vampire to kill her.
"I don't know what you mean by worth. I'm just an uneducated bartender with less than fifty dollars in the bank."
The dark eyes held a heat that was more than a little disturbing. "Oh no, cara, you are most certainly priceless."
"Why? Why me? Does it have something to do with my blood?"
"It has everything to do with your blood."
Darcy caught her breath, her simmering unease abruptly forgotten. "Do you know something of my parents?"
Without warning he had moved forward and was holding her face in his hands.
"I will reveal all once you are in my care, cara," he promised.
His touch was surprisingly gentle, but Darcy batted his hands away with impatience.
"Stop that."
He merely smiled as he backed toward the door. "If you want the truth of your past, you must come to me, Darcy. I will send word to you in a few days with a plan to help you escape. Until then." He gave a small bow as he stepped through the doorway. "Oh, cara."
"What?"
"You will need to return to the shower. Vampires possess an uncanny ability to smell werewolves."
He disappeared from view and Darcy heaved a heavy sigh.
"Gripes."
Salvatore slipped through the shadows with a shimmering frustration.
Nothing was going as it should.
He had devoted thirty years to searching for Darcy. Thirty goddamn years. Then, when he finally managed to track her down she was snatched from beneath his nose by filthy vampires.
It was enough to make any werewolf snap and snarl.
And now, when he had risked everything to slip her away, he was being forced to leave the remote estate alone.
What the hell was wrong with the woman?
She was supposed to be terrified at being held prisoner by a vampire. She was supposed to be hiding in a corner just waiting to be rescued.
Rescued by him.
But she hadn't been terrified. As a pureblood he could sense her every mood, and while she had been bemused and understandably wary, there had been no panicked need to escape.
In fact, it had taken only a few moments to realize that she would balk at any attempt to force her from the house.
Balk enough to bring a horde of angry vampires down upon his head.
Salvatore was a powerful Were. Perhaps the most powerful pureblood in centuries. But not even he could take on a dozen vampires. Not when one of them was the mighty Anasso.
And more importantly, he couldn't afford to risk Darcy.
She was the key to all their plans.
Now he was empty-handed with no certain means of capturing his prize.
Someone was going to pay for this.
Starting with Styx, the freaking master of the universe.
Chapter Six
Styx paced the kitchen, careful to keep his gaze from straying toward the small table in the center.
There was nothing wrong with the table.
In fact, it was perfect.
He had heated the vegetarian lasagna and garlic bread exactly as the housekeeper had directed. The red wine was breathing. He had even arranged the candles to provide a soft, comforting glow through the room.
And that's what was troubling him.
It looked precisely as he had intended it to look.
Romantic.
He gave a shake of his head as he glanced toward the empty door for the hundredth time.
There was no explanation for his strange behavior.
It could not just be desire.
If he only wanted sex and blood he could easily enthrall her with his mind and take what he wanted. She would give him whatever he desired, and do so gladly.
It was what vampires had been doing since the beginning of time.
But this . . . fussing and fretting over her tiniest comfort.
This was most certainly not the habit of a vampire.
Thankfully, for his peace of mind, Darcy chose that moment to walk through the door.
Any confusion as to why he was acting in such a strange manner was forgotten as he allowed his gaze to slide over her tiny body enwrapped in the heavy brocade robe.
She looked young and delicate and so vulnerable that she would have tugged at the heart of the most ruthless demon.
Forcing himself to resist the urge to cross the room and sweep her into his arms, Styx gave a lift of his brows.
"I began to fear that you intended to remain in your chambers for the entire night."
She smiled, but there was something wary in her manner as she edged toward the table.
"The thought did cross my mind, but I was too hungry. Something smells delicious."
Guardians of Eternity 03 - Darkness Everlasting Page 7
