Beware the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  Plus, she possessed a scent that intoxicated him. Passion fruit, soft air, and an undertone of salt. Like a summer night on the Caribbean Sea.

  He shook his head, trying to clear her vision from his mind.

  “Stop haunting me,” he rasped.

  The female stepped forward, her expression hardening in the moonlight. When she’d first started coming to the prison where Tarak was being held, she was a timid, frightened creature. Probably because Tarak had done his best to terrify her. But over time he’d come to look forward to her visits. And not just because she offered him an opportunity to feed from her veins.

  She would linger to keep him company, bringing him books that helped to ease the brutal loneliness of his isolation. And in the last fifty years or so, she’d left a device called a television that allowed him to view the humans’ entertainment. It was an invaluable tool that kept him up to date on the world. Plus, she’d been the one to tell him that the old Anasso had died a few years before and that Styx had become the new King of Vampires.

  He hadn’t fully processed the news. There was a mixture of acute joy that the bastard was dead, combined with fury that he hadn’t been the one to cut out his heart. Plus, there was a suspicion that Styx, a male he’d trusted like a brother, had allowed him to rot in the prison while he waited for the opportunity to grab the throne for himself.

  He hadn’t had the time or the interest to work through the baggage.

  Over the centuries, however, the female had never talked about herself, or the bastard who was responsible for him being there, but she’d helped to keep him sane. And in time, she’d developed a confidence to approach him without fear.

  Now she glared at him in exasperation. “I’m here to protect you, you stupid vampire.”

  He scowled. Although he’d never been power-hungry like the Anasso who’d betrayed him, Tarak had been a clan chief who’d earned the respect of his people.

  No one questioned his intellect.

  “Stupid?” he growled.

  “Yes, stupid.” She tilted her chin. “I know what you’re doing.”

  He reached out, not surprised when his hand went through the female. She wasn’t real.

  “You’re a hallucination from my mind,” he rasped.

  “I’m real,” she insisted, her voice low and husky. Perfectly tuned to stir a male’s passions. “My blood runs through your veins.”

  Tarak shivered, vividly remembering the taste of her. She’d been sweet and warm and as addictive as nectar. And just the memory was enough to make his cock hard. It was no wonder the poor nymphs hadn’t been able to satisfy his hunger.

  He pulled back his lips to flash his fangs. It pissed him off that he was reacting to her as if he was a drunken goblin in rutting season.

  “I’m not so crazy that I can’t tell gold from dross,” he drawled.

  She flinched, as if his words had wounded her. Then her chin tilted an inch higher.

  “It’s true I’m not physically there,” she admitted. “I have the ability to…” She paused, considering how to explain her talent. “To project my image.”

  Her words did nothing to ease the toxic stew of frustration that bubbled inside him.

  “An illusion,” he snapped. “Too damn many illusions.”

  The scent of salt became more pungent, revealing her own flare of temper.

  “I came to you in your prison,” she reminded him in sharp tones. “My touch kept you sane.”

  Tarak glanced around the dark, soggy bogs that were coated in a slimy moss. Right now he could be in a luxurious hotel, enjoying a glass of champagne and a hot bath. Or returning to one of the numerous lairs he’d owned around the world. He’d had them glamoured to keep any creature, including humans, from discovering them.

  Instead, he was here.

  Hot and wet. And not in a good way. Why wouldn’t he be consumed with a burning need to lash out?

  “Not so sane,” he muttered.

  She reached out her hand, her expression pleading. “You’re free, Tarak. Return to your family.”

  “Family.” He furrowed his brow. He’d once had a clan. Brothers he’d trusted with his very life. But he’d been betrayed. Now he was alone. “It’s been too long.”

  “Then create a new family,” she urged.

  He curled his hands into fists. “Not until the bastard who held me prisoner for so long is dead. Only then will I be free.”

  The female gave a shake of her head, her hair sliding over her shoulders. Tarak battled the urge to reach out and try to touch her again. She looked so real.

  “Please listen,” the woman pleaded.

  “No.”

  “Riven knows you’ve escaped your prison. He’s searching for you.”

  “Riven.” Tarak tested the name. It echoed through him, setting off explosive jolts of fury. He’d never met his captor, but he had a foggy memory of hearing the mongrel trolls talking about the Anasso being in debt to a strange creature who came out of the sea as Tarak had been carried—broken and bloody—from the fortress. “Merman.”

  “Yes.”

  A cold smile curved Tarak’s lips as a nearby cypress tree toppled over. Like all vampires, Tarak had a unique power. His happened to be telekinesis. A rare and wonderful talent, but occasionally it caused unexpected damage.

  “Good. I’m eager for a face-to-face meeting,” he told her. “It’s long overdue.”

  Her lips thinned, the air humming with her impatience despite the fact she wasn’t there in the flesh.

  “He won’t come himself. He’ll send his royal guards.”

  “Royal?”

  A strange expression rippled over her delicate features. “He’s the King of the Mer-folk.”

  King? Tarak released an abrupt laugh. Of course the bastard was the king.

  “He can send every royal guard he has,” Tarak assured his companion. “I’m not afraid of a fish.”

  She looked like she wanted to slap him. Or maybe stick a trident through his dead heart.

  “As I said. Stupid,” she hissed.

  Tarak studied her. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination, he abruptly acknowledged. If he was imagining her, she wouldn’t be spitting fury at him. No. She would be warm and inviting and, if his fantasy was really good, she would be removing her gown to reveal the slender curves beneath.

  Still, he wasn’t about to trust her.

  He didn’t trust anyone. Not anymore. He might be out of his prison, but he could still feel a strange drain on his powers. The same drain he’d felt since he’d first been captured. He wasn’t completely free even if he was no longer trapped in his barren cell.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Despite the fact that he intimately knew her smell, her taste, and the feel of her flesh as he’d drunk from her neck, she’d never shared the most basic facts about herself.

  She hesitated, no doubt trying to decide whether or not to share such an intimate detail. There were many demons who could use a name as a weapon. Then, perhaps reminding herself that a vampire didn’t possess magic she answered his question.

  “Waverly.”

  Waverly. The name lapped over him like a warm wave of water. “You’re a mermaid.”

  The words were a statement not a question, but Waverly gave a small nod.

  “Yes.”

  “Then why are you helping me?”

  “I can’t bear to see you suffer any further.”

  His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “Try again.”

  She glanced around, as if searching for someone. Tarak frowned. Could she see him and the bogs? Or was she looking at something closer to her?

  At last she spoke in a low voice. “I want you to tell the vampires what Riven is doing. This can’t continue.”

  “What is he doing?” Tarak deman
ded.

  Her eyes suddenly widened, her head turning to the side. “I must go.”

  Tarak felt an odd jolt of unease. Was someone coming? Was she in danger? “Waverly.”

  She glanced back at him, her expression tight with frustration. “Return to your people.”

  Tarak took an instinctive step forward even as her image vanished as swiftly as it’d appeared.

  “Madness,” he whispered.

  Chapter 2

  Inga wasn’t a delicate sort of female.

  Standing well over six feet, she had a square, muscular body and feet that were large enough to squash a full-grown kobold. If that wasn’t intimidating enough, she’d been told by more than one demon that she possessed the sort of face that could send entire armies fleeing in terror.

  She couldn’t argue. Her reddish hair grew in tufts on top of her head, and her features were roughly chiseled. Her eyes were blue, but they flashed red when she was annoyed, and her teeth were pointed. She was never going to win a beauty contest. But while she looked like she should be comfortable stomping through mud and sleeping in holes in the ground, she was desperate for a hot dinner and a change of clothes.

  She ruefully glanced down at the brilliant purple muumuu with yellow orchids that was now covered in gunk. It was one of her favorite dresses, even if Lilah had grimaced every time she caught sight of it.

  Inga quickly shoved away the thought of the human witch whom she’d treated as her own daughter for five hundred years. Eventually she would earn Lilah’s forgiveness. But first she had to shake off the damned vampire who’d been hunting her for the past seven days.

  Who could have suspected that Tarak would be so determined to hunt her down after he’d escaped from his prison? It wasn’t like she’d been the one to betray him. All she’d done was help to cast the spell that held him captive. The idiotic leech needed to man up and move on.

  Giving a shake of her head, Inga headed toward the seedy demon club hidden in a thick grove of trees. She would have preferred to stay at one of the finer hotels that catered to demons. Perhaps one in Miami Beach, or Key West. She was in desperate need of a spa day and a fruity drink with an umbrella in it.

  Unfortunately, she couldn’t risk exposing herself. She had to choose a place that was heavily wrapped in illusions, and off-limits to vampires.

  And this was the only place she knew of in the state of Florida.

  Pressing open the door, she stepped into small lobby that had a low, open-beam ceiling and warped wooden floorboards. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of stale grog and a mass of unwashed demon bodies. The fighting pits had to be just below them.

  She paused to glance down at the tiny demon standing next to her. A sharp regret sliced through her.

  Levet was a stunted gargoyle who stood barely three feet tall, with large fairy wings that glistened with exquisite jewel tones. He’d arrived at the hotel with the vampire Chiron. She’d known as soon as the two had shown up that they were going to be trouble, but during their stay, she’d become oddly attached to the gargoyle.

  He was rude, aggravating, and completely self-absorbed, but he could also be charming, funny, and kind-hearted. A rare combination among demons. Most importantly, he was the first male to see beyond her less-than-perfect façade.

  She didn’t know how, but he’d been able to sense her wounded soul and had lured her into revealing the truth of her past. Not only the years that she’d been held as a slave, but the painful discovery that her mother’s people, the mer-folk, considered her a blight on her family. And he’d reached out to try and make a connection.

  In return for his compassion, she’d stripped away his memories of being at the hotel and convinced him that he was her devoted guard who was there to rescue her.

  What choice had she had? Once Lilah had discovered that she’d been tricking her for centuries, the powerful witch had wrapped her in threads of magic. The only way to escape and give Lilah the opportunity to calm down and listen to reason was to force Levet to help her.

  Now he was traveling through the swamps with her, his memories scrambled, and a furious vampire on their trail.

  It was all a mess.

  Swallowing a sigh, Inga crossed the floor to stand in front of the wooden counter. A few seconds later a short male with a bald head and stooped shoulders stepped out of a hidden door. Inga sniffed the air. A mongrel, like her. She could detect some goblin blood as well as imp and a hint of brownie.

  He shuffled to stand behind the counter, studying her with a speculative expression.

  “I assume you’re here to fight?”

  “No.” She gave a firm shake of her head. “I want a room and something to eat.”

  The male scowled, leaning forward to take in her ragged dress that was stained with mud.

  “Show me your money.”

  Inga clenched her teeth. She could twist the mongrel into a pretzel, but she didn’t want to get tossed out before she’d had her bath.

  Lifting her hand, she reached beneath the neckline of her gown and pulled out a small but perfect pearl and laid it on the counter. “There.”

  The male snatched the pearl off the counter, tucking it into the front pocket of his leather pants. Greed touched his round face as he glanced toward Levet.

  “Pets are extra.”

  “Pets?” Levet puffed out his chest, his tail twitching. “I am not a pet. I am the world renown—”

  “Not now,” Inga interrupted.

  Levet sent her an offended glare. “I do not wish to stay at this hotel,” he informed her, his French accent more pronounced than usual. He wrinkled his snout. “It smells like doo-doo.”

  “Hey,” the mongrel snapped.

  Inga held out her hand, wanting to get out of the lobby before Levet managed to create a scene. “Give me the key.”

  The male hesitated, no doubt considering whether he could kick them out without returning the valuable pearl. Then, seeing Inga’s expression, he paled and reached beneath the counter to pull out a heavy, old-fashioned key. Handing it to Inga, he pointed a shaky hand toward Levet.

  “Keep him locked up or I’ll toss him in the pit.”

  Levet flapped his wings, taking a step toward the counter. “You may try to throw me in the pit. I will—”

  Inga reached down to grab the gargoyle by the stunted horn, dragging him toward an opening at the back of the room. “Come on.”

  She waited until they were in the narrow corridor before she released her hold on her companion.

  Levet clicked his tongue, sending her a wounded glare. “Why would you not allow me to finish my threat? It was going to be quite spectacular and involved nasty boils on his derrière plus a curse on his mother.”

  Inga heaved a sigh, her gaze skimming over the wooden doors with rough numbers scratched into them that lined the hallway. Below her feet she could feel the booming chants from the crowds watching the fights.

  “I just want a hot bath and some food,” she told her companion.

  The gargoyle was instantly distracted. He smacked his lips in anticipation.

  “Food would be lovely. I’m starving.”

  Inga made a sound of disbelief. “You just ate an entire alligator.”

  Levet grimaced, patting his belly. “Oui, and it has given me terrible indigestion. Now I need a nice bowl of stew and an apple pie to settle my belly.”

  Inga shook her head. She didn’t know whether to be disgusted or impressed.

  “You eat more than I do,” she said. “Where do you put it?”

  “I might be small in stature, but I am très grand in power,” Levet said in lofty tones. “I need my energy.”

  “Hmm.” Inga came to an abrupt halt in front of a door marked with the number six. “This is it,” she said, inserting her key into a metal lock. The door swung inward, revealing a cramped ro
om with a painfully low ceiling and a bed that was barely large enough for a dew fairy. “Why do they always make the beds so small?” she groused, entering the room and waiting for Levet to join her before closing the door.

  Levet gave a flap of his wings, landing on the mattress that was no doubt as old as the pyramids.

  “Not all demons possess your remarkable size,” he pointed out.

  Inga stiffened. “Are you calling me fat?”

  The gargoyle looked genuinely confused. “Did you wish me to call you fat?”

  “No. I…” Inga heaved a sigh at her rare burst of vanity. What did she care if the gargoyle thought she was too large? She was being an idiot. “Never mind.”

  “You are a very contrary female,” Levet complained, lifting his hand to touch a claw to the side of his head. It was something he was doing more and more. An indication that he could sense the memories she had scrubbed. “Explain again how I became your Knight in Shining Armor.”

  Inga glanced away, the guilt nagging at her. “I told you. I was captured by the witch and you released me.”

  “And now we are running from a vampire?”

  “Yes.”

  Levet clicked his tongue. “I do not comprehend why you do not allow me to contact my FBI Styx.”

  Inga was momentarily baffled. The tiny gargoyle could speak perfect English, but he often garbled it beyond recognition.

  “FBI?”

  “Best friend forever.”

  “You mean BFF?”

  The gargoyle ignored her question, bouncing on the mattress to make the springs squeak.

  “He is the Anasso. He could make your vampire disappear like that.” Levet snapped his fingers.

  “I don’t want to cause trouble,” Inga said, wincing at the squeak, squeak, squeak. “He’ll eventually give up the hunt.”

  “And then what?”

  Inga shrugged, not about to admit that she intended to return to the hotel to beg for Lilah’s forgiveness. That just sounded… pathetic.

  “Then you can return to visit the wood sprites,” she instead said. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Levet furrowed his heavy brow, abruptly hopping off the bed. Thank goodness.