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 back 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 foil 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."
With a low groan the Were managed to push himself to a half-seated position. Since he was completely nude it was easy to see that his wound was beginning to knit together, although he was far from healed.
His head hung down, his black hair covering his narrow face.
"Save your threats. I have failed. Soon enough the Weres will be extinct and the vampires can rejoice in our passing."
Styx narrowed his gaze, his jaw tightening at the bitter charge. "I have no desire to see the end of the Weres."
Salvatore gave a short laugh that ended in a painful cough. Darcy winced in sympathy. "Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe. You have imprisoned us to the point that we are incapable of producing children."
"You blame us for your lack of offspring?" Styx demanded.
"The doctors have confirmed my theory." Salvatore slowly lifted his head, his face pale but his golden eyes flashing with anger. "The wolves were meant to roam free. By keeping us caged you have slowly stolen our traditional powers. The most important of which is our females' ability to control their shifts during pregnancy."
Styx fell silent as he considered the ominous words. Then his expression hardened as he realized what Salvatore's words revealed.
"That's why you desired Darcy?"
Salvatore shrugged, clearly past caring who knew his plans. "Yes. She was . . . altered so that her werewolf traits were suppressed."
Levet made a disgusted sound. "That's why I couldn't tell what she was."
Styx's gaze never left the Were crouched on the floor.
Instinctively Darcy grasped his arm tighter, sensing his desire to finish what he had begun.
"She will never be yours," he rasped.
"Styx," she said in a pleading tone.
His head jerked to the side, his eyes hard and glittering in the dim light.
"No, Darcy. Please do not ask this of me."
Darcy blinked before she realized that he thought she was pleading for the opportunity to have a litter of children for the Weres.
She instinctively shuddered.
She had never been a woman who was overwhelmed by the need to produce babies. And certainly she wasn't going to sleep with a string of strangers for the sole purpose of having children.
That was . . . just wrong.
"Never," she assured him, with a small smile. "I only wanted to suggest that the vampires and Weres try to discover some means to compromise. There has to be a way that the Weres can regain their strength."
Both men regarded her with a faint hint of surprise. As if the idea of actually sitting down and discussing their quarrel was some sort of foreign concept.
And maybe it was.
"We could put it before the Commission," Styx at last grudgingly conceded. "They have already gathered here in Chicago."
Darcy turned her attention to the wounded Were. "Salvatore, are you willing to negotiate?"
He gave a low snarl as he glared at the vampire looming over him. "What is the point? We are mere dogs who have no say in the world of demons."
"That is not true," Styx denied coldly. "The Commission is above all races. They will give you a fair hearing."
"You want me to go on my knees and beg?"
"God save me from men and their pride," Darcy muttered. "What if it does take a bit of begging? Surely that's a small price to pay for the salvation of your— our—people?"
His dark eyes flashed with annoyance. "We have no certainty it will change our fate."
Darcy gritted her teeth. Salvatore sounded far more like a sulky child than a fierce leader of werewolves.
Obviously he needed a prodding to recall his position.
"Fine, then I will go and speak to this Commission," Darcy declared. "Someone must show some sense."
As expected, Salvatore instantly bristled with wounded pride. "No one speaks for the Weres but me. I am king."
Darcy met his glare squarely. "Then act like one."
He stiffened, but surprisingly he gave a faint bow of his head. "You are right. I will do my duty."
"Maybe there is hope for you yet," Darcy murmured.
Salvatore narrowed his gaze, a speculative expression rippling over his face. He was at least smart enough to know when he had been manipulated.
His gaze slowly slid toward Styx. "You have bested me, vampire, but I do not entirely envy you your prize."
> Annoyingly a small smile touched Styx's lips.
"She tends to grow on one."
Salvatore gave a disbelieving snort. "If you say so."
Darcy gave a shake of her head. Minutes ago the two demons had been determined to kill one another. Now they were sharing one of those man-to-man moments that were always at the expense of women.
"Enough. I'm tired, hungry, and in dire need of a hot shower. I want to go home."
Styx oddly stilled before he slowly turned his head to regard her with an unreadable expression.
"Home?" he demanded softly.
Abruptly realizing she had indeed used the "H" word, Darcy sucked in a deep breath.
Good grief, when had it happened?
When had she accepted that being near Styx was all she needed to feel as if she was home?
Slowly breathing out, she decided that it didn't really matter. The when, the why, the how was in the past.
The future was all that mattered.
Her future with Styx.
"Yes." She allowed a smile to curve her lips. "Home."
Styx reached out to pull her tightly against his body, his lips brushing the top of her head.
"My angel."
About to snuggle even closer, Darcy was halted by the sound of Levet's harsh sigh.
"Sacre bleu. Here we go again."
With a chuckle Darcy pulled back, although Styx refused to loosen her hand. Which was just fine with her.
"Okay, Levet, you've made your point. We're going."
The gargoyle gave a happy flap of his wings. "And I'm driving."
"No," Styx and Darcy growled in unison.
Styx took the lead as they left the rapidly healing Salvatore and moved down the final flight of stairs. He wanted to be away from the nasty lair. And not just because there was still danger lurking in the dark corridors.
Unable to resist, his gaze shifted to the woman walking at his side.
As always his body stirred with the usual heat and a fierce tenderness that was oddly mixed with sheer male possession. Those were as inevitable as the sun rising. But mixed with those sensations was an unmistakable sense of triumph.
Darcy had chosen him over her own pack.
Granted, her pack had hardly proven to be the loving family she had always hoped for, he ruefully acknowledged. More the Munsters than the Cleavers.
But, on the other hand, she wasn't a woman who had to cling to anyone, was she? Even if her family was a disappointment it would never force her to turn to him.
The gods knew that she had enough independence and belief in her own ability to take care of herself. She would never remain with him unless it was what she absolutely wanted.
Struggling to hide the goofy grin that threatened to spread across his face, Styx was recalled to his surroundings when Levet reached up to rudely tug on his shirt.
"Where are we going?"
"Back to the garage."
Levet scowled at his perfectly reasonable answer. "You can't mean to take Darcy through those sewers?"
"Oh, they were good enough for me, but not for Darcy?" Styx demanded.
"Of course."
Styx had to laugh. The gargoyle was at least consistent. "Do not fear. I have every confidence that Viper managed to have a form of transportation awaiting us."
The scowl miraculously disappeared. "Excellent. I have always wanted to drive his Jag."
This demon behind the wheel of a powerful Jag? Bloody hell, Chicago would never recover.
"When hell freezes over, gargoyle," he muttered, his lips twitching when he heard Darcy turn her giggle into a sudden cough.
Levet narrowed his gaze. "Who put you in charge, vampire?" he demanded. "I'll have you know that Viper quite often allows me to ..."
"Silence," Styx whispered as he pulled Darcy to a sudden halt.
Darcy shot him a worried glance. "What is it?"
"A Were." He sniffed the air. "All. Your mother, if I'm not mistaken." A cold smile touched his lips. "I've wanted to meet her."
Easily reading his mind, she gave a shake of her head. "No, Styx."
Frustration raced through him as he lifted a hand to lightly touch her bruised jaw.
"You can at least allow me to bloody her."
"Please, Styx, I just want out of here." She clutched at his arm as she swayed wearily.
Swiftly Styx had his arm around her waist. Dammit. He wanted to punish the woman. He wanted to return with interest the bruises she had given his mate. A lot of interest.
But Darcy was right. She had endured enough. The only thing important was getting her back to his lair so he could care for her properly.
Not that he intended to forget the debt he owed her mother. Someday . . .
"If she attempts to harm you I will kill her," he muttered as he tucked Darcy even closer to his side before continuing into the dark garage.
"Only after I'm done with her," Levet warned, deliberately moving until he was on the other side of Darcy.
She gave a low, strained laugh. "Men."
Stepping from behind the thick pillars, Styx easily-spotted the gleaming black Jag that had been hidden in a distant corner. He also spotted the slender, blond-haired woman who was casually leaning against it.
Darcy's mother, of course.
They looked too much alike to deny the connection. Or at least they did from a distance. A closer look revealed the woman's delicate features had been hardened by a bitter cynicism that her daughter would never possess.
The woman straightened as they neared, and Styx struggled against his fury as he felt Darcy shiver.
He wished the woman in hell.
Oddly, Darcy wasn't at all surprised to see her mother.
The only surprise would be if she had allowed Darcy to slip through her fingers without being a pain in the ass on one last occasion.
Swallowing the urge to scream in frustration, Darcy stepped directly in front of the smiling woman. It wasn't a desire to be near her dear mother. She had endured all the up close and personal she could stomach with Sophia. But she was all too aware that Styx was anxious to punish the woman for kidnapping her. She didn't want to see any more blood tonight.
"What do you want, Mother?"
Sophia took a moment to run a slow, infuriatingly intimate survey of Styx. She clearly liked what she saw, as a heat smoldered in her eyes.
Of course, what was not to like?
He was tall, dark, yummy goodness.
Still, he was exclusively hers, and Darcy didn't like her own mother eyeing him as if he were a bit of tasty-candy she intended to devour.
Ignoring the scowl gathering on Darcy's brow, Sophia continued to stare at the silent vampire.
"I merely desired to have a look at the vampire who has seduced you away from us. Mmm, I must say you have good taste. He is delicious. No wonder you found Salvatore so lacking."
Darcy gave a derisive snort. "I would not stay even if it weren't for Styx. I have no desire to become ... what did you call it? A breeder?"
With an obvious effort, her mother forced her attention away from Styx to offer her daughter a taunting smile.
"It is not all bad, my love. There are certainly benefits to be discovered." She gave a low, husky laugh. "Sometimes several benefits."
Darcy didn't miss the less than subtle implication. She grimaced at the mere thought.
"Perhaps for you."
Sophia shrugged. "So, you can turn your back on your duty to your family?"
Darcy widened her eyes at the unfair accusation. "Family? Perhaps by blood. No wait, you altered my blood. I belong to no one."
"You think your life will be so much better with a vampire? Just think, Darcy. There will be no children, no family to call your own. Not ever."
Darcy didn't need to turn around to know that Styx had stiffened with unease. For all his arrogance, he was remarkably sensitive to the fear she might be lured away from him.
"Actually, you couldn't be more mistaken," she said wi
th absolute assurance. "I have already found my family."
"I see." The green eyes narrowed.
"I'm sure you'll do just fine without me."
"And your sisters? Are you going to toss them aside so easily?" Sophia delivered her coup de grace with a sweet smile.
Darcy's heart gave a sharp squeeze. Damn the woman. She certainly knew how to go for the kill.
Her chin tilted. "How can I toss aside sisters I haven't even met?"
"Oh, we will find them. You can be sure of that."
"I hope you don't."
Sophia's expression hardened. "It's a futile hope. Besides, just because you were not taken with Salvatore doesn't mean one of the other ones might not want to share his bed. He is handsome enough, and charming when he makes the effort."
Darcy couldn't deny the truth of her words. Although Salvatore couldn't possibly compete with Styx, he was a beautiful male. She didn't doubt for a minute that there would be any number of women leaping at the opportunity to offer him a litter or two.
"Perhaps," she conceded. "But as much as I long to meet my sisters, it isn't worth giving in to your blackmail."
Sophia lifted her brows, as if caught off guard by Darcy's response.
"Touché, my love." Her expression became wry. "I suppose there is nothing left but for us to say good-bye."
"I hope you aren't waiting for a kiss."
Much to Darcy's surprise, her mother didn't have a cutting comment. Instead, her expression became somber as she studied Dairy's pale face.
"No, but it would be nice to part on terms that are not so bitter." Something that might have been self-derision rippled over her lovely face. "You might consider me the mother from hell, but what I did was for the protection of my pack. Can you truly blame me?"
Shock held Darcy perfectly still as she attempted to sort through the implications of her mother's words.
"You want my forgiveness?"
"I suppose I do. You are my daughter, after all."
"Darcy," Styx growled from behind, clearly suspecting some trick.
"It's all right, Styx," Darcy soothed. She was a fool, of course. There wasn't a reason in the world to trust this woman. But Darcy knew herself well enough to realize that she would regret harboring her anger and disappointment. Such negative emotions were bound to weigh on her heart. "Actually I would prefer to make our peace. It doesn't seem right to ... dislike your own mother. And to be honest, I would like to know my sisters if you do find them."
Guardians of Eternity 03 - Darkness Everlasting Page 30
