Levet

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Liar.” Claudine stomped her foot, making the ground quake. “You are a pathetic weakling that offers nothing but shame.”

  Levet heaved a resigned sigh. “As I said, go ask her yourself.”

  “Non.” A dangerous expression twisted his sister’s ugly face. She didn’t like being thwarted. Especially not by her deformed, height-challenged younger brother. “You might have deceived Mother into returning you to the Guild, but I intend to make sure it’s a short stay.”

  He spread his wings, resisting the urge to take yet another step closer to the vampire.

  He was a hero.... Hear him roar.

  “You don’t have the power to shun me.”

  Claudine pulled back her lips to expose her tusks in a visible threat.

  “Perhaps not, but I have the power to kill you.”

  Levet blinked in shock. It was against Gargoyle law to kill another gargoyle unless they were banished.

  Or unless a formal challenge had been issued. And really, who wanted to deal with the paperwork?

  “I’m a member of the Guild,” he reminded his whack-a-doodle of a relative.

  “Not for long.”

  Raising her hands, which had claws long enough to skewer Levet, Claudine stepped forward, reluctantly followed by her partner in crime, Ian.

  Levet squared his shoulders, summoning the last of his fading power.

  “Merde,” Elijah snapped, clearly at the end of his patience. “I told you to stay back.”

  “This is Guild business, vampire,” Ian growled. “You don’t want to interfere.”

  “What I want is to be left alone with the woman I love,” Elijah informed them, a smile curving his lips at Valla’s gasp of shock. “And if that means killing you to accomplish that goal, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  “Love?” Valla squeaked, her hands pressed over her heart. “Did you say you love me?”

  Elijah turned to wrap the bemused nymph in his arms even as the two gargoyles took another step forward.

  “Ummm . . . maybe we could discuss this later?” Levet murmured, delighted that the foolish vampire had at last confessed his feelings, but wishing he’d chosen a more suitable time and place.

  For all his newfound confidence, he was fairly certain he couldn’t defeat two full-grown gargoyles at the same time.

  Even Batman had a sidekick.

  Indifferent to the danger, Elijah studied Valla’s upturned face with open adoration.

  “Of course I love you, you stubborn female,” he said in husky tones. “What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you for the past six hours?”

  She blushed. “I thought you wanted me to become your mistress.”

  He shook his head. “Not my mistress. My mate.”

  “Mate?” Her blue eyes widened with shock. “Are you sure?”

  “Why else would I find the most ridiculous reasons to show up on your doorstep? Why would I all but ignore my duties to spend time with you? Why would I hire twenty different chefs until I found one who baked your favorite raspberry tarts just like you wanted them?”

  “Oh.” She blinked, her shaky hands lifting to touch his face. As if she had to make certain he was real. “You made me think that you were just worried about me.”

  “I’m worried about me,” he growled. “I can’t live without you.”

  “Oh, Elijah,” she breathed, tilting back her head as he claimed her lips in a kiss of sheer joy.

  Levet tugged on the vampire’s pants as Claudine raised her massive foot, clearly aiming at his head.

  “Oui. This is all very touching,” he said. “But we are about to be squashed like bugs.”

  Lifting his head, Elijah pointed a hand at the female gargoyle.

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  Claudine reluctantly lowered her foot, but the ground shook as her power filled the air.

  “Give me the gargoyle, vampire, or pay the price.”

  A nearby bench crumbled into a pile of marble dust as Claudine released a trickle of her magic. Elijah frowned.

  “You’re starting to annoy me.”

  Ian puffed out his chest. “Then give us the gargoyle.”

  The vampire tucked his golden-haired companion behind him as the temperature dropped by several degrees.

  Elijah was clearly done playing.

  “No.”

  “Why?” Claudine snapped. “He can’t mean anything to you.”

  “He made me realize how blind I’ve been.” Elijah smiled. Not the most comforting sight considering his massive fangs that gleamed with a snowy white in the moonlight. “That’s enough for me.”

  “Fine.” Claudine lifted her hand. “Then you will feel my wrath.”

  “Sacrebleu.” Levet’s wings twitched in annoyance. “What a breeze hard you are.”

  The beady gray gaze jerked in his direction. “Breeze hard?” the female rasped.

  Valla cleared her throat, still hidden behind Elijah. A wise choice. One tiny mark on her white satin skin and the vampire would go nuclear.

  “I believe he means blowhard,” she explained.

  “How dare you,” Claudine screeched. “I will turn you into—”

  “Oh, shut up.” Levet lifted his hands to send a bolt of magic directly at the bane of his existence, astonished that it didn’t sputter and die.

  He was, after all, weary to the bone.

  There was the sound of sizzling; then Claudine gave a cry of pain as she went sailing backward, taking out two benches and a lamppost before hitting the building behind her.

  “Nice shot,” Elijah murmured, flowing forward to block Ian’s massive fist heading in Levet’s direction.

  “Merci,” Levet thanked his companion, shuddering as Elijah squeezed hard enough to crush the bones in Ian’s hand.

  “Non . . . please,” Ian panted, his tiny eyes bulging with pain as a layer of ice began to crawl over his scaly skin, turning it from gray to blue.

  “Are you done playing?” Elijah murmured softly.

  “Oui.”

  Elijah dropped the gargoyle’s hand. “Then get your companion and get out of here.”

  Edging backward to keep his gaze on the lethal clan chief, Ian grabbed Claudine’s arm and yanked her to her feet.

  The female gargoyle gave a groggy shake of her head, her hand pressed over her injured chest as she glared at Levet.

  “This isn’t over, brother,” she hissed.

  Elijah stepped forward, his power lashing through the air with enough force to make the large gargoyles shiver in pain.

  “Not only is it over, I will warn you that if you dare to harm Levet while he is in my territory I will make certain that the entire Guild is punished,” he said, his voice sending a hidden dew fairy fleeing in fear. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “But . . .”

  “Oui,” Ian interrupted Claudine’s whining, tugging her to the center of the garden. “It is very clear.”

  “Bon. Now leave,” Elijah commanded.

  With a flap of their leathery wings, the two large demons were in the air and disappearing among the tiled rooftops.

  Levet smiled. It had been years since he’d been forced to leave this city he so dearly loved.

  Now he realized he’d allowed fear to keep him away. Not fear of his family, although that’s what he’d always told himself, but fear of his own inadequacies.

  He wouldn’t allow them to keep him away again.

  Realizing that Elijah had returned Valla to his arms and was studying her with blatant lust, Levet hid a smile.

  “I believe that is my cue to leave as well,” he murmured.

  The two separated so Elijah could give a regal bow of his head.

  “I am in your debt, gargoyle.”

  Levet gave a lift of his hands. “All in a day’s work for a knight in shining armor.”

  Valla stepped forward, the lingering wounds in her blue eyes replaced by a sparkle of hope.

  “I hope you find who you’re searching f
or,” she said softly.

  “Sometimes a man simply has to enjoy the chase,” he murmured, offering a low bow. “Au revoir.”

  With a smile, Levet spread his wings and flew toward the stars.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

  DARKNESS AVENGED

  the newest installment in Alexandra Ivy’s

  Guardians of Eternity series

  coming in June 2013!

  PROLOGUE

  THE LEGEND OF THE VEIL

  The myths surrounding the creation of the Veil were a dime a dozen, and worth even less.

  Some said it was the work of angels who had become lost in the mists of time.

  Others said that it was a rip in space made during the big bang.

  The current favorite was that Nefri, an ancient vampire with a mystical medallion, created the Veil to provide a little slice of paradise for her clan, the Immortal Ones. According to this particular rumor, it was whispered that on the other side there was no hunger, no bloodlust and no passion. Only an endless peace.

  It was a myth that Nefri, as well as the Oracles that sat on the Commission (rulers of the demon-world), were happy to encourage.

  The truth of the Veil was far less romantic.

  It was nothing more or less than a prison.

  A creation of the Oracles to contain an ancient mistake that could destroy them all . . .

  CHAPTER 1

  Viper’s vampire club

  On the banks of the Mississippi River south of

  Chicago

  The music throbbed with a heavy, death-metal bass that would have toppled the nearby buildings if the demon club hadn’t been wrapped in spells of protection. The imp magic not only made the large building appear to be an abandoned warehouse to the local humans of the small Midwest town, but it captured any sound.

  A damned good thing since the blasting music wasn’t the only noise that would freak out the mortal neighbors.

  Granted, the first floor looked normal enough. The vast lobby was decorated in a neoclassical style with floors made of polished wood, and walls painted a pale green with silver engravings. Even the ceiling was covered with some fancy-assed painting of Apollo on his chariot dashing through the clouds.

  Upstairs was the same. The private apartments were elegantly appointed and designed with comfort in mind for those guests willing to pay the exorbitant fees for a few hours of privacy.

  But once one was admitted past the heavy double doors that led to the lower levels, all pretense of civilization came to an end.

  Down in the darkness the demons were encouraged to come out and play with wild abandon.

  And no one, absolutely no one, could play as rough and wild and downright nasty as demons.

  Standing in the shadows, Santiago, a tall, exquisitely handsome vampire with long, raven hair, dark eyes and distinctly Spanish features allowed his gaze to skim over his domain.

  The circular room was the size of a large auditorium and made of black marble with a series of tiers that formed terraces going downward. On each tier were a number of steel tables and stools that were bolted to the marble. Narrow staircases led to a pit built in the middle of the lowest floor and filled with sand.

  The overhead chandeliers spilled small pools of light near the tables, while keeping enough darkness for those guests who preferred to remain concealed.

  Not that there was a need for secrecy in the club.

  The crowd was made up of vamps, Weres, and fairies, along with several trolls, an orc, and the rare Sylvermysts (the dark fey who’d recently revealed their presence in the world). They came to fight in the pit for a chance at fleeting glory. Or to indulge in the pleasures his various hosts and hostesses offered, whether it was feeding or sex.

  None of them were known for their modesty.

  Especially when they were in the mood to celebrate.

  Santiago grimaced, his frigid power lashing through the air to send several young Weres scurrying across the crowded room.

  He understood their jubilation.

  It wasn’t every day that an evil deity was destroyed, the hordes of hell turned away, and Armageddon adverted.

  But after a month of enduring the endless happy happy, joy joy, his own mood was tilting toward homicidal.

  Well, perhaps it was more than just tilting, he grimly conceded as a tableful of trolls broke into a violent brawl, knocking each other over the railing and onto the Weres seated below.

  The domino effect was instantaneous.

  With infuriated growls the Weres shifted, tearing into the trolls. At the same time the nearby Sylvermysts leaped into the growing fight, the herb scent of their blood swiftly filling the air.

  His massive fangs ached with the need to join in the melee. Perhaps a good old-fashioned beat-down would ease his choking frustration.

  Unfortunately, his clan chief, Viper, had trusted him to manage the popular club. Which meant no extracurricular bloodbaths. No matter what the temptation.

  Buzz kill.

  Watching his well-trained bouncers move to put an end to the fight, Santiago turned his head as the smell of blood was replaced by the rich aroma of plums.

  His lips curled as lust, rather than violence, abruptly filled the air.

  Understandable.

  Tonya could make a man drool at a hundred paces.

  Stunningly beautiful with pale skin and slanted emerald eyes, the imp could also claim perfect curves and a stunning mane of red hair. But Santiago hadn’t chosen her as his most trusted assistant because of her outrageous sex appeal.

  Like all imps, she possessed a talent for business and the ability to create powerful illusions. She could also hex objects, although Santiago made sure that particular talent was only used on the humans who patronized the tea shop next door. Most demons were immune to fey magic, but Tonya had royal blood and her powers were far more addictive than most.

  His loyal customers would never return if they suspected he allowed them to be enthralled by the beautiful imp.

  Wearing a silver dress that was designed to tempt rather than cover, she came to a halt at his side, a smile curving her lush lips even as her shrewd gaze monitored the hosts and hostesses who strolled through the room offering their services.

  “A nice crowd,” she murmured.

  Santiago grimaced. Unlike his assistant, he was wearing plain black jeans and a dark T-shirt that clung to his wide chest. And, of course, he’d accessorized the casual attire with a massive sword strapped to his back and handgun holstered at his hip.

  Never let it be said he went to a party underdressed.

  “Nice isn’t a word I’d associate with this mob.”

  Tonya glanced toward the tribe of Sylvermysts who were reluctantly returning to their table. The warriors possessed the striking features of all fey with long hair in various shades of gold to chestnut. But their eyes blazed with a strange metallic sheen.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she purred. “There’s one or two I’d consider edible.”

  “Your definition of edible is appallingly indiscriminate.”

  She turned her head to study him with an all-too-knowing gaze. “Yeah, well, at least I haven’t been neutered.”

  Santiago curled his hands into tight fists, fury jolting through him. Oh no, she didn’t just go there.

  “Careful, Tonya.”

  “When was the last time you got laid?”

  The air temperature dropped by several degrees.

  “We’re so not going to discuss this,” he snarled, his voice pitched low enough that it wouldn’t carry. Despite the earsplitting music, there were demons who could hear a freaking pin drop a mile away. “Especially not in front of an audience.”

  Foolishly ignoring his don’t-fuck-with-me vibes, Tonya planted her hands on her full hips.

  “I’ve tried to discuss it in private, but you keep shutting me down.”

  “Because it’s none of your damned business.”

  “It is when your f
oul mood begins affecting the club.”

  His fangs throbbed. “Don’t press me.”

  “If I don’t, who will?” The female refused to back down, the words she had clearly longed to fling at him for days at last bursting past her lips. “You prowl through the halls snapping at everyone who is stupid enough to cross your path. I’ve had six waitresses and two bouncers quit in the past month.”

  His jaw hardened with a stubborn refusal to admit she was right.

  If he did . . .

  Well, that would mean he’d have to admit he had been neutered.

  Not only sexually, although that was god-awful enough to admit. After all, he was a vampire. His appetite for sex was supposed to be insatiable.

  But his general lust for life . . .

  Suddenly his enjoyment in pursuing beautiful women and spending time with his clan brothers was replaced by a gnawing frustration. And his pride in running a club that was infamous throughout the demon world was replaced by an itch that he couldn’t scratch.

  It was something he was trying to ignore under the theory that it was like a bad hangover—something you suffered through and forgot as soon as the next party came along.

  “Hire more,” he growled.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Easy for you to say.”

  “Hey, you know where the door—”

  “I’m not done,” she interrupted.

  His dark brows pulled together in a warning scowl. “Imp, you’re pissing on my last nerve.”

  “And that’s my point.” She pointed a finger toward the belligerent crowd that continued to eyeball one another with the threat of violence. “This mood of yours is not only infecting the employees, but the patrons as well. Every night we’re a breath away from a riot.”

  He snorted, folding his arms over his wide chest. “I run a demon club that caters to blood, sex, and violence. What do you expect? Line dancing, gin fizzes, and karaoke?”

  “The atmosphere is always aggressive, but in the past few weeks it’s been explosive. We’ve had more fights just tonight than we’ve had in the past two years.”

  “Haven’t you heard the news? We’re celebrating the defeat of the Dark Lord,” he tried to bluster. “A new beginning . . . blah, blah, blah.”