Halting near the stone railing, Justin folded his arms over his chest, his expression smug. Which could mean only one thing.
Gingerly Juliet opened her senses, not surprised by the unmistakable wall of magic that surrounded the mage. Justin might be an arrogant ass, as Victor claimed, but he was not stupid. He would never approach any vampire, let alone the powerful clan chief, without a spell of protection.
Not that it would keep a determined vampire from ripping out his throat.
“There will be no doubt if and when I desire to frighten you, devil spawn,” Justin taunted.
A wave of icy power raced through the air, prickling painfully over Juliet’s skin.
“Do not allow your ability to intimidate a few lesser demons to swell your head, Hawthorne,” Victor drawled. “It would be a lethal mistake.”
Taking advantage of Victor’s brief distraction, Juliet slipped from his grasp and moved to the center of the terrace.
“Since my presence is obviously superfluous, I will leave you two to entertain each other,” she muttered.
Justin stepped smoothly toward her, stretching out his hand. “Forgive me, Juliet—”
The words had barely left his mouth when he was abruptly slammed against the brick wall of the mansion, Victor’s hand wrapped around his throat and a pair of vicious fangs a mere breath away from his jugular.
Shocked by the swift violence, not to mention Victor’s ease in breaching Justin’s considerable defensive spell, Juliet hurried to the vampire’s side, laying a cautious hand on his shoulder.
“My lord, no,” she said, her voice a mere whisper. The air was thick with danger. It did not seem particularly wise to startle the lethal vampire. “I will not tolerate you creating a scene.”
There was a tense moment when Justin’s life hung in the balance; then, with a low snarl, Victor tossed the larger man aside and turned to grab Juliet, his silver eyes flashing with a stark hunger.
“Take heed, little one. I have attempted to cultivate patience—you are very young, after all—but my desire for you is swiftly consuming me,” he rasped. “I will not wait much longer.”
Her heart slammed against her chest, but not in fear, despite the slender fingers digging into her shoulders and the savage glitter in the silver eyes. No. It was pure exhilaration racing through her blood.
“Are you threatening me?” she breathed.
He framed her face in his hands, staring deep into her eyes before lowering his head to cover her mouth with a harsh, shockingly possessive kiss.
“A promise, nothing more,” he whispered against her lips; then, with a muttered curse, he abruptly released her and disappeared from the terrace with a terrifying speed.
Unconsciously Juliet pressed her fingers to her lips, feeling…shattered.
She had sensed the volatile emotions that lurked just below the surface when Victor was near. It was like standing in the middle of an alchemist’s lab, acutely aware that the brewing concoctions might suddenly explode.
But she had never realized that his kiss, any kiss, could snatch the earth from beneath her feet.
Hearing a faint noise, she smoothed the shock from her face. The last thing she desired was for anyone to guess her unwelcome vulnerability to Victor.
She was prepared as Justin moved to her side, a scowl marring his handsome features and his dark eyes smoldering with hatred.
The man was accustomed to being the master of any situation. He was not only a powerful mage, but with Juliet’s assistance, he had acquired a massive collection of magical weapons that would make anyone hesitate to challenge him.
Now Victor had effectively proven that he was capable of ripping out Justin’s throat and leaving him another corpse in London’s gutters. It was little wonder his hand was not quite steady as he patted the precise folds of his cravat.
“Damn the bastard,” he bit out. “How did he slip back to London without my knowledge?”
Her lips twisted, her gaze skimming over the dark, seemingly empty garden.
“A demon does not survive a thousand years without acquiring the skills necessary to travel unnoticed,” she pointed out dryly.
Justin was far from appeased. “Skills or not, I intend to have a word with my servants. They clearly have grown lax in their duties.”
“Lax? Highly doubtful,” she said. “They are terrified of you.”
With a shake of his head, Justin made an effort to pretend that he had not just been tossed across the terrace by an infuriated vampire.
“And you, Juliet?” he demanded, his fingers trailing a suggestive path over her flushed cheek. “Are you terrified of me?”
She took an abrupt step backward. Justin was handsome and, when he made the effort, a charming companion, but she had no interest in becoming his mistress. As far as she was concerned, their relationship was strictly business.
“Not particularly.”
“Hmm.” He studied her with a rueful smile. “I wish I believed you, my dear.”
With a restless shrug, Juliet turned to pace toward the edge of the terrace.
“Perhaps we should leave London.”
“You have a sudden desire to travel?” There was a hint of surprise in his voice.
Perfectly understandable.
Juliet had never made a secret of her aversion to their constant touring from place to place. It was not that she didn’t understand the need to avoid settling in one area for too long. Humans were not particularly perceptive, but eventually they did notice if their neighbors did not age. But it did not make the constant upheavals in her life any easier.
Now, however, she could not deny a cowardly urge to flee from Victor and the dangerous sensations he inspired.
“Why not?”
“For one thing, there is a pesky war being waged throughout Europe, if you will recall, my love,” he drawled, “and while the winter months always put a damper on the generals’ enthusiasm for battle, if my sources are not mistaken, the foolish Archduke Charles is planning a futile uprising in Austria, which of course will spark all sorts of nasty retaliations. We can only hope that Vienna is not damaged by their stupidity.”
She shrugged. “The Continent is not the only place beyond England. We could visit India or the Americas or—”
“Juliet, you are well aware that I dislike the colonies,” Justin interrupted, a hint of impatience entering his voice. “The society is tedious, the entertainments are rustic, and the natives little better than savages. Besides, my negotiations with the fey are not going as well as I would desire.”
Her heart sank.
For all of Justin’s magic, he was still human, and it was only with a potent mixture of rare herbs that he managed to hold back his mortality.
Herbs that could only be grown with fey magic.
Which meant that Justin would not dare to leave London until he was certain he had enough of the potion to last him for several weeks, if not months.
“What is wrong? You have never had trouble bartering for your potion before.”
Justin grimaced. “The fey are…unsettled.”
“That is hardly a shock. They are always flighty and unpredictable.”
“It is worse than usual. For the past three months I have sought to meet with Yiant, offering him a number of my finest possessions for the privilege, only to be told the Prince is not receiving.”
Juliet frowned in puzzlement. As she had said, the wood sprites were flighty creatures, but they were also cursed with an insatiable craving for magic. Nothing less than the threat of impending death would prevent a wood sprite from collecting a magical object.
“Did you offend him?”
“I would never be that foolish.” Justin’s jaw knotted with tension. “No. The Prince is either attempting to unnerve me in the hopes of increasing the price of his goods, or he has gone into hiding.”
“Why would a fairy go into hiding?”
“A good question.”
A silence descended as they
both considered the varied, and assuredly unpleasant, possibilities.
“So what do you intend to do?” she asked.
“Make him an offer so tempting that he cannot resist meeting with me.” Justin shot her a searching gaze. “Speaking of which, have you managed to have a peek at Lord Treadwell’s new collection, my dear?”
She waved a dismissive hand. It had taken less than a quarter hour to search through the Grecian collection that was currently being displayed in Lord Treadwell’s Picture Gallery.
Not only were the badly chipped statues and pieces of pottery lacking any hint of magic, but she suspected they were outright frauds, without the least amount of historical or artistic value.
“Rubbish.”
Justin cast a jaundiced glance toward the looming mansion. “Not entirely unexpected, but still a pity. Perhaps we shall have greater luck at the Stonevilles’ soiree.”
“Did Lord Stoneville purchase new artifacts?”
“No, but the rumor at the gentlemen’s club is that he’s recently taken on a young and very beautiful mistress.”
She frowned in confusion. “What interest could we possibly have in his mistress?”
A knowing smile curved Justin’s mouth. “The old goat must be eighty if he’s a day. If he is managing to keep up with a female a quarter of his age, then he must have some magical trinket to—”
“Yes, I comprehend your meaning,” Juliet interrupted, shuddering at the unfortunate image.
Far less squeamish, Justin held out his arm. “Shall we?”
Chapter Two
Two nights later, Juliet was seated on a Chippendale sofa with cabriole legs and threadbare brocade cushions that was tucked beneath the small window. God alone knew how long ago it had been relegated to the attics, but Levet had done his best to beat away the dust and cobwebs. He had also managed to clear enough space among the forgotten trunks and family portraits to place two wooden chairs around a small scrolled table in an appearance of a dining room.
The tiny gargoyle was astonishingly domesticated and complained bitterly (and far too often) at being forced to reside in the cramped, grimy attics.
As far as Levet was concerned, he should be inhabiting rooms at Versailles.
At the moment, however, amusement shimmered in the gray eyes and the delicate wings fluttered as he laughed at Juliet’s tale of her daring burglary of the valuable crystal that held the tears of a fertility god, while Justin had kept the ancient Lord Stoneville distracted.
“You are certain it was a Damanica?” the gargoyle demanded, his French accent pronounced.
“Without a doubt.” Juliet shrugged. “Justin is currently attempting to lure the wood sprites out of hiding with it.”
Levet laughed again. “Pathetic. Do English wood sprites have no stamina? No manly vigor? Sacre bleu. They must be like fish left out of the water.” He wiggled his hand. “Flop, flop, flop—”
“Levet,” Juliet hastily interrupted.
“Ah, pardon, ma belle.” The sensitive gargoyle was instantly contrite. “I forget what a delicate flower you are.”
“Delicate flower?” Juliet snorted. “Hardly that. I am a thief and a liar, and I sell my services to keep a roof over my head. Many would claim I am no better than a common whore.”
“Non, do not say such terrible things. We all do what we must to survive.”
Juliet heaved a sigh. She was painfully acquainted with the sacrifices that survival demanded.
“Yes, I suppose that is true enough.”
Levet tilted his head to the side, regarding her with a narrowed gaze.
“There is something troubling you, ma belle.”
Juliet turned her head to glance out the window, more to hide her revealing expression than to admire the view of Hyde Park slumbering beneath the silver moonlight.
“Nothing more than ennui.”
“Ennui? But only a few days ago you were telling me how delighted you were that the Season was at last under way.”
Of course she had been delighted. She had told herself that the restless dissatisfaction that had plagued her throughout the long winter would be cured by the return of society to the city.
It was only when Victor had strolled into Lord Treadwell’s ballroom that she accepted her discontent had nothing to do with the lack of society and everything to do with the breathtakingly beautiful demon.
The knowledge was galling.
And something she did not intend to share.
“I hoped that the return of society to London would provide a distraction,” she said, her voice determinedly light. “Foolish, of course. ’Tis the same tedious balls, with the same tedious guests, with the same tedious gossip.”
“But we adore gossip, do we not?”
“Only when it is interesting.” Juliet turned back to her companion, her fingers fidgeting with a satin ribbon threaded through the bodice of her peach muslin gown. “Thus far I have heard nothing more fascinating than that Lord Maywood’s youngest daughter was quietly removed from London after she attempted to elope with a blatant fortune hunter and that there has been an odd rash of lightning that people claim is coming from clear blue skies. One burned down a warehouse near the docks.”
Levet’s tail stiffened, as if startled by her inconsequential chatter.
“Lightning, you say? At the docks?”
“And why would you be interested in strange bolts of lightning?”
A smile touched the ugly gray face. “A nest of pixies will often attract lightning. Perhaps they have settled near the Thames.”
“You have a fondness for pixies?”
The gargoyle touched his fingers to his lips in a gesture of appreciation.
“But of course. The females are très désireuses and possess a remarkable ability to please a gargoyle.”
With a sharp movement Juliet was on her feet, an odd ache clenching her heart.
“For heaven’s sake, are all males so predictable?”
Levet gave a helpless lift of his hands. “Oui.”
“Pathetic.”
“Ma belle, please tell me what has upset you. I know it cannot be the lack of amusing scandal.” Levet waddled forward, his gray eyes troubled. “Juliet?”
She sucked in a deep breath, knowing the tiny creature would not leave her in peace until she had confessed the truth.
“The Marquis DeRosa has returned to London.”
“By my father’s stone balls.” Levet’s wings snapped in agitation, the sudden breeze sending dust flying through the air. “Well, there is no need to ask why he is here. The cold-hearted sod will not be satisfied until he has made you one of his sycophants.”
That was precisely what Juliet feared.
And why she fought so hard against her acute awareness of his sensuality.
“Hell will freeze over first,” she muttered.
Levet reached up to grasp her hand, the blatant concern in his expression sending a chill down her spine.
“Be careful, ma belle. He is more dangerous than you could ever imagine.”
“What would you have me do? I requested that Justin travel away from England, but he is too occupied with his negotiations with Yiant to leave London. I suppose I could go on my own, but…”
“Non, Juliet.” Levet’s tone was horrified. “For all of Hawthorne’s failings, and they are varied and numerous, he does provide some protection from those creatures who would do whatever necessary to claim you and your powers.”
She paced the cramped space that had been cleared by the gargoyle, not for the first time resenting her dependency on the mage.
If only—
Juliet abruptly crushed the worthless yearning.
Her parents were dead. Nothing could alter the grim fact.
“I am not entirely helpless,” she gritted.
“Not helpless, but you will never be ruthless enough to survive alone in the demon world, remerciez un dieu.”
She ignored the painful truth of his words. “Perhaps Yian
t will accept the Damanica as a proper token and offer Justin the herbs he needs. He will have no reason to linger in London once he has his potion.”
“I would not be so certain.”
Juliet halted her pacing to regard the gargoyle with a puzzled frown.
“What do you mean?”
“It is rumored that Hawthorne has at last convinced Madame Andreas to become his mistress.”
Juliet snorted. “If you mean to shock me, Levet, you are wide of the mark. Justin always has one mistress or another. He will easily find another in the West Indies or Egypt or the Americas.”
“Madame Andreas is not just another mistress, Juliet, she is considered the most beautiful woman in London,” Levet corrected. “Even DeRosa has been seen attempting to court her favors.”
A sharp, savage pain jabbed through her heart at the mere thought of Victor being beguiled by the golden-haired, blue-eyed, voluptuous beauty. Which was utterly absurd. From the moment she had arrived in London she had heard whispers of the Marquis DeRosa’s numerous mistresses, and had seen with her own eyes how the women flocked to be at his side.
Besides, it was common knowledge among the demon world that vampires were sexually insatiable. Until they mated it was not at all unusual for them to insist on a dozen or more lovers.
Damn Victor to the fiery pits of hell.
“Has he? Well, I hope…”
“Oui?”
“I hope he chokes on her,” Juliet snapped.
Levet’s lumpy brow furrowed as he regarded her in sudden dismay. “Did I make a middle of it?”
“Middle?” It took her a moment to realize what the gargoyle was saying. “Muddle. A muddle of it.”
He gave a dismissive shrug. “Middle, muddle. Did I say something wrong?”
“Not at all.” Juliet felt her brittle composure begin to falter. “If you will excuse me, I believe I will retire for the night.”
“Are you not feeling well?”
“I seem to have developed a pain in my neck.”
Without giving Levet time to halt her retreat, Juliet left the attics, taking a direct route through the candlelit corridors to her private chambers.
Yours for Eternity Page 11
