Darkness Awakened

by Stephanie Rowe

  Pretzels, eh? Their assailant was too stupid if he thought they'd fall for the same line twice. "No. I'll come down." She disconnected. "I'm going to the lobby."

  Theresa nodded and shifted on the couch, still typing furiously. "Yeah, whatever."

  "Are you getting info on gold auras, or on orgasms?" Only twenty-two hours left before they had to break camp, unless Theresa could get answers.

  "Yeah, sure, okay." Theresa didn't even look up.

  Justine set her hands on her hips. "It could be someone after Mona in the lobby. They might try to take me out and come up here. Or maybe Xavier has been possessed, and when I go down there, he's going to kill me."

  "Mmm hmm..."

  "Theresa!"

  The dragon finally looked up. The scales on her cheeks were shining and her eyes were glowing so bright they were almost bio-luminescent. "Did you say something?"

  "What are you doing on that computer? Is it even legal?"

  Theresa's lips curved back in a grin. "Leave me alone, you cybersex virgin. I'm busy."

  "I guess." Justine slipped a dagger in the back of her waistband and put another in a sheath between her shoulder blades. She tucked her favorite black-market handgun into her shoulder holster (no need to put the cops on alert by registering it). Then she put a denim jacket on, fluffed her hair and freshened up her makeup. "Good enough to date, bad enough to kick some ass." Since Mona's benefits didn't include becoming ultra-strong or fast, her best bet was to appear harmless and take her assailants by surprise. It had worked so far and she always got a kick out of the look of astonishment right before she dropped some jerk on his ass.

  Ah, the small pleasures in life.

  "Have fun." Theresa sighed, looking dreamily at Justine. "I want to be Guardian. You get to do all the killing."

  "Killing in the name of Eternal Youth is overrated, and the only way you'll get to be Guardian is if I die."

  Theresa rubbed her chin. "It's a thought..."

  "Shut up and turn the intercom on. If it sounds like I'm about to be beheaded, come down and burn the place up."

  "You got it, sister."

  Justine punched the elevator button and waited, her foot tapping impatiently on the tile floor, her fingers twitching restlessly near her waistband dagger. She could be heading toward her death, something she hadn't had to worry about for the last one hundred and eighty years, since the Carl incident.

  Which meant today was turning out to be the most interesting day she'd had in a very long time.

  From his vantage point in the shadows outside the double glass doors of the building, Derek watched the elevator doors open, his body tense. Was this her?

  And then she stepped out into the lobby, and he nearly dropped the journal.

  It was the Guardian.

  Almost two centuries later, and she still looked exactly like the drawings in the journal.

  Unbelievable.

  Her hair was a shoulder-length light brown, sort of intentionally casual looking, as opposed to the long hair in the journal. She was wearing jeans and a pair of high-heeled boots. Her black T-shirt hugged a very fit body, and her makeup was bold but understated. She had an edgy fashion, the epitome of a modern New Yorker, but there was no doubt she was the woman in Carl's sketches.

  It was her.

  And she was breathtaking.

  He'd known that his ancestor had coveted her, and now, Derek understood why. There was something compelling about her, something entrancing. Maybe it was in the way she held herself, as if she had power and strength coiled inside her small frame. Or maybe it was the warmth in her expression as she smiled at Xavier. Or maybe it was the sharp intelligence in her eyes. He wasn't sure, but she was absolutely riveting.

  He watched as she chatted with Xavier, her forehead furrowed in concentration as she looked at the papers.

  He knew she'd go back upstairs in a moment. He should be rushing through the doors, shouting her name, and tackling her to the floor.

  But he didn't move.

  She was powerful. Beautiful. Captivating.

  She was the woman he'd been searching for.

  And she was the woman he might have to kill.

  Damn.

  Chapter Nine

  The papers made no sense to Justine. Well, they made sense, but they didn't seem to have anything to do with her. "It's a contract between Vic's Pretzels and McDonald's. Why would someone leave this for me?"

  "Inside stock tip?" Xavier suggested. "Everyone around here knows you keep the Vic's on the corner in business."

  "Maybe." She slid the papers back into the envelope and looked at her doorman. After the surfer episode, she'd grilled him about letting the kid up, and Xavier had denied seeing the guy arrive, let alone permitting him access to the elevator, though Xavier had seen him leave. Xavier was still meeting her eyes easily, so she didn't think he was lying. But neither of them had been able to figure out how he could have gotten in the elevator without Xavier seeing him. Things were getting weirder by the minute. "Who left these papers?"

  "I did."

  She spun around, her hand going to the dagger nestled at the small of her back. A man in a business suit was standing inside the lobby doors, a briefcase in one hand. He looked just over six feet, short dark hair and a stance that exuded readiness. He was absolutely gorgeous and made her mouth go dry, which meant the odds that she was going to have to kill him were quite high.

  And he looked very, very familiar.

  Xavier moved next to her. "Want me to get rid of him?"

  "No. Not yet." She eased away from the doorman so he didn't cramp her movement. "Who are you?"

  "Didn't my brother say I'd be coming by? I asked him to stop by earlier."

  "Your brother?" This was the surfer dude's brother? There was nothing similar between those two men, at all. "He wasn't real chatty."

  The man sighed. "Yes, sometimes he's a bit distracted."

  Her fingers closed around the handle of her knife. "Do I know you?" It was his chin, she decided. She knew that chin. Nice angle, strong. Masculine. "You look familiar."

  He lifted a brow. Nice eyebrows. Would he mind if she licked them? Yikes. No sex, remember? "My brother looks like me."

  "No, he doesn't." Not at all. "Not that I believe he was your brother. Paid assassin is more likely."

  The man raised an eyebrow. "Assassin?"

  "Yes, and he wasn't a very good one either. Next time you should check references."

  "If I ever hire an assassin, I'll be sure to keep your advice in mind." He took a few steps toward her, and she moved to her right, drifting toward the middle of the lobby so she'd have room to maneuver. "At the moment, however, I just want to ask you some questions."

  "Ask away." Seeing as how his "brother" had tried to kill her earlier today, she knew she ought to take him out first and skip the questions. But unlike Theresa, she didn't get a thrill out of killing people, and she was still hoping he'd turn out to be a vacuum cleaner salesman.

  He moved opposite her, until they were both moving in a slow circle, like assailants looking for an opening.

  Which she was.

  Was he?

  A spike of adrenaline washed over her. She hadn't had a good battle in forever. How fun would it be to have one now? Maybe she couldn't sleep with him, but she could knock him around a bit.

  "You know any dragons?"

  She stopped. "What?"

  "Dragons. Know any?"

  Who was this guy? "Xavier, I think you should leave."

  "I think he should leave. I think he's tired and needs a nap," Xavier replied.

  "Shut up!" The man glared at Xavier. "You say one more thing, and I'm blowing your cover."

  Justine eyed her doorman, who nodded and closed his mouth. "Um, what cover?" she asked Xavier.

  "Nothing. You asked me to leave, and I will." Xavier scowled at their visitor. "You hurt her, and you'll die."

  The man didn't look impressed by the threat. "Go have some coffee."
r />   Xavier growled, but he walked out the door, muttering what sounded like orders to go to sleep immediately.

  She directed her attention back to the man, catching the tail end of a yawn. "Who are you?"

  He yawned again. "The Curse. I need to know how to stop it."

  "What curse?" That made no sense at all. Goblets, yes. Curses? Not so much. Curses weren't her thing. Maybe he wasn't really there for her?

  He staggered slightly and slapped his cheek, even as he yawned again. "Bastard." His epithet was mumbled, his eyes bleary.

  "What's wrong with you?"

  "Xavier." He blinked and stumbled over to the wall. He leaned against it, then slid down to the floor, his head collapsing back against the wall with a thud. "The dragon. The Goblet. Need answers." His eyes closed for a moment, before he jerked them open again.

  She let her fingers slide off the dagger. "What goblet?" Was he faking exhaustion? He didn't look like it. He looked like he was about to pass out.

  "Eternal youth." His eyes closed and his head slumped forward.

  Shit. He knew what he was talking about. At least he didn't know Mona was an espresso machine...or did he? "What do you know about it?"

  No answer.

  She pulled her gun out and pointed it at him, then eased over to him, nudging him with her toe.

  No response.

  Was he dead?

  Keeping her gun ready, she squatted next to him and felt his pulse. Strong.

  He was alive.

  And he smelled divine.

  She took a quick glance around, then leaned forward and buried her nose in his neck. She even closed her eyes and inhaled him. He smelled like man, like woods and sophistication, all tangled up together. Surfer boy had smelled good, but this guy smelled incredible.

  "What's going on down there?" Theresa's voice bellowed out from the intercom.

  She jumped and sat up. "He passed out."

  "Who is he?"

  "I don't know." She flipped open his suit jacket and felt for a wallet, trying not to notice he had a very nice chest. Her fingers closed a leather billfold. "I have his wallet."

  "Is he hot?"

  Devastating sexy. "I didn't notice."

  "Liar! Take advantage of him while he's unconscious."

  "Don't tempt me." She opened his wallet and pulled out a driver's license. She scanned it quickly, then her mouth dropped open as she read his name. "Holy shit."

  "What?"

  She collapsed against the wall, staring at the words. How could this be?

  "What?"

  "His name. It's Derek LaValle."

  "LaValle?" Theresa sounded incredulous. "You think he's related to Carl? Like that kind of LaValle?"

  Her heart thudding in her chest, Justine turned and studied Derek's profile. He had Carl's chin. "Yes." No wonder he'd looked familiar.

  "Well, shit and damn. Is he as good looking as Carl was?"

  She scanned his face again, taking in the insanely sexy whiskers, his strong jaw, and the broadness of his shoulders. "Better." She clenched the license in her hand.

  "Better? Really? Wow. He must be gorgeous! Did he check out your breasts before he passed out?"

  Justine's nipples immediately tingled, and she decided she was going to shoot her roommate when she got back upstairs. "Theresa! I don't know! Stop distracting me. What am I supposed to do with him?"

  "Bring him upstairs. We'll handcuff him to your bed and torture him sexually until he confesses all. If we blindfold him, do you think he'll realize I'm a dragon?"

  "I think I should kill him." She stood up and pulled out her knife. "Carl betrayed me. This guy's 'brother' already tried to kill me today. There's no way this guy can be anything but a danger to us." But she didn't point the blade in Derek's direction.

  She just stood there, staring at him. He wasn't moving at all, except for a deep, steady breathing. He was completely defenseless, and he hadn't even tried to do anything yet. All he'd done was ask a couple questions. How could she kill him for that?

  She really didn't think killing in cold blood was the best approach, given her mom's situation. Plus he was so good-looking and smelled really delicious, and, well, would it be so bad to take a couple minutes to inhale him? Not long. Just a brief moment. Or two.

  "Justine? Did you kill him? I don't hear any blood rushing around down there."

  She shoved the dagger back in its sheath. Killing sounded risky. Basking in his manliness while she interrogated him sounded like such a better idea. "I'm bringing him up."

  "Oh, goody. Can we torture him? Burn him up? Use him until we're all heavily sated and exhausted?"

  "No, to everything except burning him up, and that's a maybe."

  "Sweet. This will be so fun!"

  Justine eased behind Derek and wrapped her arms under his arms and around his chest...oh, wow. It felt so good to have him smashed up against her. Maybe Theresa was right. Maybe she should make him her love slave for the next few hundred years. She had completely forgotten what it felt like to be up close and personal with a man, and now she knew why. If she'd remembered, it would have made the last two centuries even more unbearable, knowing what she was missing.

  But now she remembered. Which was bad. Except right in this moment, it felt oh-so-good.

  Unable to suppress a sigh of deep contentment, she dragged him into the elevator. She wrestled his feet clear of the door so it could close, but as the doors slid shut, she couldn't quite make herself let go of him.

  Just a couple more seconds. That was all she wanted. Granted, he was passed out and limp against her, but she could feel his muscles. He was a man, for God's sake, and he was in her arms. It had been so long. Was this why Theresa had turned to cybersex? But how could cybersex possibly make up for the feeling of a man's body against hers, the heat from his skin pressing against her and—

  He twitched, spun around in her arms and flipped her beneath him, trapping her instantly on the floor of the elevator before she'd had time to do anything more than register the fact that he was no longer asleep. Big enough for transporting couches, the elevator was apparently also large enough for two adults to stretch out in a very intimate fashion.

  Once he had her pinned beneath him, Derek opened his eyes and peered down at her, the slightest hint of smugness in his expression. God, he had gorgeous eyes. She'd never seen that color blue before. And his whiskers…she wanted to rub her face against them, just for a moment. And his mouth, his smile…it was so delicious and so sexy…

  The elevator dinged, snapping her out of her man-worshipping-haze.

  Whoa. What had just happened?

  His smile widened, and she narrowed her eyes.

  Oh, so that's how it was? Try to lull her into submission with his manly appeal and then take her out? Not so much. She was a Guardian first and a woman second, and he was so going down.

  But damn, he smelled good. Maybe she could sniff him just one more time before she capped him…Or not.

  Definitely not.

  She had to kill him immediately.

  Chapter Ten

  Derek's first thought was that her eyes were a far more gorgeous shade of green than he'd ever imagined.

  His second thought was that her body felt extremely nice under his.

  His third thought was that she had on a gun holster under her T-shirt.

  The last observation significantly reduced his guilt about pinning a woman he'd never met to the floor of an elevator. "Were you planning to shoot someone?" he asked conversationally.

  "You." She didn't sound contrite. Or worried. "Will you please attack me now?"

  Adrenaline rushed through him as he stared down at her flushed cheeks and disheveled hair. "Attack you, how exactly?"

  "Try to kill me."

  "Oh." He'd thought of a much friendlier, more intimate kind of physical connection than killing her…Damn. He needed to stay focused. He was here to find out whether she was the woman he had to behead, not take advantage of the fact he w
as lying on top of her. "Why do you want me to kill you?"

  She rolled her fantastically gorgeous green eyes, and for a moment, he forgot about everything except getting sucked up into them. He still couldn't believe how much she looked like the drawings in Carl's journal. Either this woman was the immortal Guardian (holy shit!) or she was the direct descendent of the woman in the journal. Either way, it was clear from her appearance that she was connected to the Goblet, so he wasn't leaving without answers.

  "I don't want you to kill me. I would never allow it. I just want you to try, so I can slay you in self-defense," she explained. "Self-defense makes everything better."

  "Ah." And to think he'd thought he was so clever when he'd come up with that same plan for her. Apparently, he wasn't as cutting edge as he'd thought. "I agree about self-defense, but I am not really in the mood to kill you just yet."

  Her face fell. "Really?"

  Her disappointment was so vivid that he almost started laughing.

  Almost.

  The fact that they were talking, very seriously, about killing each other was just enough of a buzzkill to keep him from breaking out into raucous guffaws. "However, since you're so hopeful about having a reason to kill me, I think I'll take your gun."

  She rolled her eyes. "That's super inconvenient for me."

  "Yeah, well, we can't both win, so since I've got the leverage, I get to win this time." Trying not to notice the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest, Derek shifted slightly and slid his hand along her ribs. She tensed, but he had her locked down so tightly that she could do nothing but glare at him as he slid his hand under her T-shirt and plucked the gun out of the holster under her arm. "You know, it's not a great place to keep your gun anyway, under your shirt like that. You might want to think about a more accessible location."

  She raised her brows at him, her breath catching as he eased the gun along her side and out from under her shirt. "Thank you so much for your concern, but I assure you, I have excellent reflexes and fantastic dexterity. I'd have no trouble getting the first shot off."