It was Styx's turn to pace. The mere mention of Darcy was enough to make him restless. Even worse, the image of her sweet, heart-shaped face was far too easy to conjure. As if it was lurking in his mind merely waiting for the opportunity to plague him.
"What does that matter?" he muttered. "She is my prisoner."
Viper chuckled with obvious delight. "I'm assuming that's a yes."
Styx turned, his face hard. "Yes, she is... astonishingly beautiful. As beautiful as an angel."
Viper's amusement never wavered. Damn his gall. "You don't seem nearly as pleased as you should be, my friend."
"She is... unpredictable," Styx grudgingly admitted.
"If she has any human blood at all, she is bound to be unpredictable," Viper said ruefully.
"It makes it difficult to know how to treat her."
Viper moved forward to clap his hand on Styx's shoulder. "If you have forgotten how to treat a beautiful woman, Styx, then I fear there is no hope for you."
Styx resisted the urge to toss the younger vampire across the room. It was ridiculous. He never lost control of his emotions. Never.
He could only assume his heavy responsibilities were taking more of a toll on him than he had realized.
It was at least a convenient excuse.
"I am not holding her captive for my pleasure."
"That doesn't mean you can't enjoy her presence. You have no need to live the life of a monk any longer. Why not take advantage of the situation?"
Styx's entire body hardened at the mere thought of giving in to raw lust. By the gods, he wanted to take advantage.
Warm female flesh. Fresh, innocent blood. Oh yes.
"She is only beneath my roof so that I can bargain with Salvatore," he said sharply, more to remind himself than Viper. "She will soon be gone."
Viper studied him with narrowed eyes. "What if the Weres intend to harm her? Will you still hand her over?"
That question!
That ridiculous, annoying question!
"Would you have me risk war with the Weres for a mere woman?" he said in a frigid tone.
Viper gave a short laugh. "Styx, I was willing to risk the entire race of vampires to save Shay."
That was true enough. Styx had nearly killed both Viper and Shay. "But she was your mate. You loved her."
"I still believe that some sacrifices are too great to be made."
Styx ignored the odd tightness in his chest. He didn't want to know what it might mean.
"This woman means nothing to us."
Viper looked annoyingly unconvinced. "It is your decision to make, Styx. You are our leader."
Styx grimaced. "A highly overrated position, I assure you."
Viper gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Don't allow yourself to be rushed into a decision, my friend. The Weres are troublesome, but we can keep them in check while you discover what they want of her. There is no use bargaining with Salvatore until you know precisely what your chips are worth."
Styx slowly nodded. It made sense. If he could discover what Salvatore wanted with Darcy, then he might be able to avoid negotiations altogether.
If he wanted her bad enough, the Were would have to give in to whatever demands Styx might make.
"Wise counsel."
"I do have my moments."
"Yes, as brief and fleeting as they may be."
Viper took an abrupt step backward, his eyes wide. "Was that a joke?"
"I have my moments as well," Styx murmured, heading toward the door. He had been away from the estate long enough. He paused at the door to shoot his friend a warning glance. "I will tolerate the gargoyle as long as he does not trouble Darcy. If he so much as makes her frown, he will find himself on the streets, if not worse." With his threat delivered, Styx walked out of the office, but not before he witnessed the slow, utterly inexplicable smile that curved Viper's lips.
Chapter Four
Styx returned to the dark burgundy Jag parked in the back alley.
He had no fear of walking the dark streets, no matter what the time. There were few things stupid enough to attack a master vampire. Not unless they possessed a death wish.
Turning into the alley, he came to a halt. With a smooth motion he pulled the two daggers from his boots and scanned the darkness.
Even over the stench of garbage and human waste he could detect the unmistakable scent of Were.
Three curs and a pureblood.
And close.
He widened his stance as he caught sight of the nearest cur. In human form he was small and wiry with a mane of long brown hair. He looked more like a schoolyard bully, or petty thief, than a creature of the night But Styx didn't miss the predatory hunger on his lean face, or the glow in the brown eyes that revealed he was close to shifting.
Even curs could be dangerous when their blood was running hot and their beast was calling.
Never taking his eyes from the cur who was poised near a black Jeep, Styx reached out with his senses to find the other Weres. He wasn't about to be distracted by one mangy cur so that the others could outflank him.
One more cur was hidden behind a Dumpster while the pureblood and remaining cur were on the roof of an empty Laundromat across the alley.
Smart dogs.
Smarter than the nearest cur, who gave a low growl in his throat. He was going to attack. Already his muscles were tense with anticipation, and his breath coming in small pants. In contrast, Styx remained utterly immobile, his thoughts clear and the daggers held loosely in his hands.
His seeming nonchalance was all the provoking the rabid cur needed, and with a hair-stirring growl he launched himself forward.
Styx waited until the man was nearly on him before reaching out and grasping the beast by the throat. There was a strangled whine followed by the gurgling rattle of death as Styx lifted him off the ground and crushed his throat.
He yanked the struggling form close to his body as he slid the dagger between his ribs and deep into his heart. A Were could heal from almost any wound except silver to the heart or decapitation.
There was a gasping cry as the cur went limp, and after tossing aside the corpse, Styx smoothly turned in time to watch the next cur rush from behind the Dumpster. He tossed the dagger in his hand with such blinding speed that the attacking cur took several steps before at last coming to an unsteady halt and regarding the dagger sticking in his chest.
It hadn't been a killing blow, but the silver was buried deep in his body. With a shrill howl the cur fell to his knees as he tugged desperately on the hilt.
The sickly sweet odor of burning flesh filled the cold air, but Styx's attention already had turned to the two Weres who still hovered on the roof above.
"Who's next?" he demanded.
The sound of clapping broke the silence as the pure-blood rose to his feet and stared down at Styx. Despite the filth of the alley, he was wearing a silk suit that was tailored to fit his muscular body, and his dark hair was perfectly groomed. Styx didn't doubt the man could also boast a pedicure and satin boxers.
Royalty, indeed.
"Well done. But, of course, you are the notorious Styx, master of vampires, and dictator to all demons," the wolf drawled with a faint accent. "Tell me, is it true you received the name Styx because you leave a river of dead behind you?"
Styx deliberately slid the remaining dagger back into his boot and held his arms out in invitation.
"Come down here and discover for yourself, Salvatore."
"Oh, I don't doubt we'll eventually have the opportunity to test which of us is the better man, but not tonight"
"Then why are you bothering me?" Styx demanded coldly.
"You have something I want."
A faint smile touched his lips. Ah, so his efforts were paying dividends already.
"Do I?"
Temporarily."
"If you want we can return to my lair and you can try to take her back," Styx drawled.
The wolf gave a low growl. "Oh, I will have he
r back. That much I promise."
"Not unless you are willing to bargain with me."
"I won't be blackmailed by a rotting vamp."
Styx shrugged. "Then the lovely Ms. Smith remains my captive."
"We are no longer your dogs, Styx." Salvatore curled his lip with disdain. "We will not be bound by your laws or chained like animals."
Styx narrowed his gaze. He could smell the smoldering anger in the pureblood, but the wolf maintained a firm control over his instincts. A rare ability for a Were and one that marked him as a dangerous adversary.
"This is hardly the place to negotiate the rights and privileges of Weres," Styx said, his fangs lengthening in warning. "And I will offer you a small warning, Salvatore. I don't like ultimatums. The next time you issue one I will personally hunt you down and execute you."
The wolf never flinched. "Not without reprisals."
Styx gave a soft hiss as he allowed his power to swirl through the alley. It was obvious this new King of Wolves needed a reminder of the dangers in crossing wills with a vampire.
"I have called for a meeting of the Commission. If they arrive before I decide to kill you, then I will await their approval." He lifted his hand, sending the power toward the looming werewolf. "Otherwise I will simply issue a heartfelt regret that I was forced to act before they could arrive."
Salvatore staggered to his knees before grimly forcing himself back to his feet. His eyes glowed in the darkness, but his hands were steady as he smoothed the silk jacket.
"Am I supposed to be frightened?"
"That, of course, is your decision."
There was a low, awful howl from the roof as the cur at Salvatore's side abruptly shifted. The large man with a bald head and bulging muscles twisted into a towering beast with a thick mat of black fur and lethal claws. Stepping to the edge of the roof, he lifted his muzzle to the sky.
The dagger was in Styx's hand even as Salvatore turned and, with a negligent motion, he backhanded the cur. There was a startled yip as the Were was knocked across the roof and nearly tumbled onto the pavement on the opposite side.
Styx gave a lift of his brow as Salvatore turned his back on the cur and returned his attention to the vampire below. Clearly a leader who believed in a "spare the rod, spoil the werewolf" philosophy.
"Give me the woman and I will consider... negotiations," Salvatore conceded in a smooth tone, as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Styx kept the dagger in his hand, ready to strike. This was a pureblood that only a fool would underestimate.
Besides, the arrogant command to hand over Darcy made him want to sink his fangs into the damnable wolf.
"Ms. Smith will not be released until you have agreed to return to your traditional hunting grounds and to halt your attack upon humans. Only then can we discuss your complaints."
Not surprisingly, the Were gave a short, humorless laugh at the uncompromising demand. Styx expected nothing less.
"If you won't give me the woman I will take her."
A werewolf with a death wish.
His favorite kind.
He smiled. "You're welcome to try."
"Arrogant son of a bitch."
"Why is this woman so important to you?"
Even at a distance Styx could sense the sudden wariness in Salvatore. It was a question he didn't want to answer.
"Why does any man want a woman?"
"You wish me to believe that you have tracked this woman—a woman you had not even met until last night—for weeks just because you desire her?"
He shrugged. "Most men are fools when it comes to matters of the heart."
Styx narrowed his gaze. "No."
"No?"
"You are a pureblood. You would never waste your energies on a human. You are only allowed to mate with other purebloods."
"I didn't say that I intended to mate her, only bed her."
Bed her?
It took two millennium of self-control to keep Styx from killing the werewolf on the spot. Darcy was his captive. For the moment she belonged to him. He would rip the throat out of anyone who tried to take her away.
"She will never be in your bed, wolf," he warned in a tone of sheer ice. "Now return to your hunting grounds before I have you all caged and neutered."
Darcy couldn't deny a sigh of relief when the small gargoyle had announced his attention to seek out his dinner among the surrounding woods.
It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his efforts to ease her fears and lift her spirits. For all the strangeness of being a gargoyle, there was something quite charming in his sardonic wit and unexpected flashes of kindness.
Still, she needed him to leave so that she could find her clothes and flee this madhouse.
She might be somewhat strange, and she couldn't even say with all certainty that she didn't have some weird demon blood running through her veins. It was as good an explanation as any. But a mixed heritage did not make her ready to join a commune made up of sexy vampires, miniature gargoyles, and lurking werewolves.
Especially when she was quite likely to be handed over to those werewolves like some sacrificial virgin.
Well, maybe not virgin, but close enough.
Unfortunately, her plans of escape were hampered by the fact that her clothes were nowhere to be found. In fact, the only clothing to be found in the room was a white T-shirt that fell nearly to her knees.
And then, of course, there was the very large man whom she assumed was a vampire (judging by his incredibly pale skin and fangs) who was standing just outside her door, and the two others who were below her window.
For a time she paced the large room with a sense of near panic.
She had to get out of here.
But how?
Her pacing lasted for nearly an hour before she heaved a sigh and gave a rueful shake of her head.
Her temperament was not really suited to brooding.
And it was difficult to be truly terrified when she was surrounded by such elegant luxury.
Were all vampires rich as sin? The bedroom and connecting bathroom could house a family of four with room left over to park a minivan. Nothing at all like her own cramped apartment. Gripes, she didn't doubt that the satin sheets that perfectly matched the ivory carpet and drapes cost more than she paid every month in rent.
Goodness only knew what the porcelain vases and delicate charcoal etchings were worth.
As she reached the deep bay window that overlooked a small garden and distant lake, she came to an abrupt halt. A frown marred her brow as she studied the pretty African violets that lined the sill.
It was a disgrace, she told herself as she carefully moved the plants onto the window seat and away from the frosty panes. Only then did she gather a glass of water from the bathroom and set about tending to the drooping plants.
So few people understood the care that was required to keep plants healthy, she acknowledged as she carefully trimmed the yellowed leaves and stirred the rich dirt.
It took more than an occasional splash of water. Just because they couldn't talk didn't mean they didn't have feelings too.
Losing herself in her self-imposed task, she was happily unaware when the door opened behind her and Styx stepped into the room.
"Here you are, Dasher," she murmured, pouring the water evenly over the roots. "No, no, I haven't forgotten you, Dancer. Don't be impatient, Vixen. I will get to you."
"What the devil are you doing?" demanded a deep male voice.
She didn't need to turn. Only one male in all the many, many males she had encountered was capable of making her shiver with awareness by just the sound of his voice.
"Trying to save these poor plants you have neglected." She gave a chiding click of her tongue. "Just look how they're drooping. You should be ashamed. If you take a living creature into your home you have an obligation to care for it properly."
There was a long pause, as if he was trying to decide if she was completely bonkers.
Which was reall
y rather ironic under the circumstances.
"You talk to plants?" he at last demanded.
"Of course." Darcy turned, her breath catching at the sight of him. It just didn't seem fair that any man should be so flat-out beautiful. Hastily she returned her attention to the plants. It was that or gawking at the sinful beast as if she didn't have a brain. "They get lonely, just like people. Don't you, Rudolf?"
"Rudolf?"
She gave a lift of her shoulder. "Well, I didn't know the names you gave to them so I had to call them something. This time of year it seemed appropriate to name them after Santa's reindeer. You know, 'Twas the Night before Christmas'?"
Darcy gave a jump of surprise as he was suddenly kneeling next to her. She hadn't heard a whisper. Was he that quiet, or could he just pop from one place to another like magic?
Seemingly unaware of the fact mat he had just scared the bejeezus out of her, the vampire regarded her with a curious expression.
"I'm assuming that it is some human tradition? They seem to have an endless supply of them."
"Vampires don't celebrate Christmas?"
"When one is eternal the urge to mark the path of the year with odd rituals seems rather redundant."
Her unease swiftly faded. Strange that when he was near she couldn't seem to recall that he was a dangerous creature holding her captive.
Maybe it was because she kept being overwhelmed by the urge to rip off that clinging sweater and run her lips over his smooth, bronzed skin.
Yeah, that might be it.
"Christmas isn't about marking the path of the year," she protested, her fingers gently stroking the leaves of Rudolf.
"No?"
"It's about the spirit of the season. Peace on earth and goodwill to men." Her lashes lowered to hide the loneliness she kept hidden inside. She didn't want anyone's pity. "It's about love, and kindness, and … family."
Slender, bronzed fingers reached out to curl around her hand. His skin was cool, but it managed to send a sharp flare of heat racing straight to the pit of her stomach.
"If it is such a special celebration, then why does it make you sad?" Styx murmured softly.
She stiffened at his unwelcome perception. "What makes you think that it makes me sad?"
Guardians of Eternity 03 - Darkness Everlasting Page 5