Darkness Everlasting (Guardians of Eternity #3)(10)

Hess shrugged. He was a cur. He didn't possess the strength to battle the vampires head-on, and he had been forced to be content with whatever they would dole out.

"It's private enough we can change and hunt whenever we want. It's more than we can do here."

"It is a prison that is used to slowly exterminate us," Salvatore rasped, his pacing taking him toward his small armory against the wall. "With every passing year there are fewer and fewer of us. Soon enough our race will be gone from the world and the vampires will celebrate our passing."

"And how's coming to Chicago supposed to help?" Hess complained. "The humans still die when they're bitten. We haven't found one who survived."

Salvatore stiffened. "I told you to keep the curs in check. I don't want attention drawn to us."

He heard Hess shuffle his feet. "You keep them locked in this building night after night. Sometimes instinct just takes over."

Salvatore whirled about, a crossbow in his hand. He pointed the loaded arrow directly at the head of his guest.

"Instinct? If this uncontrollable instinct endangers my plans or brings trouble to the rest of the pack, the cur responsible will die by my hand. And you will go to his grave with him. Is that clear?"

In the blink of an eye the cur was on his knees, his head pressed to the wooden floor. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good." Salvatore tossed the crossbow on the desk. He hadn't needed the weapon to kill the man. It was more of a . . . visual aide that helped him to make his point. "Now gather the men and start tracking the woman. The sooner we find her the sooner we leave here."

"Of course."

Hess remained on his knees as he crawled backward out the door and closed it behind him. Salvatore waited until he heard the sound of running footsteps before he pulled the cell phone from his pocket.

He hit the speed dial and waited until he heard the sound of a familiar female voice.

"It's me," he murmured, his voice smooth and unreadable. "No, she managed to escape, but I have the scouts tracking her. She won't elude me for long. You have my word that soon she will be home, where she belongs."

Chapter Three

Darcy was definitely freaked.

She had awakened freaked to discover herself in a strange bedroom with a tall, drop-dead gorgeous man hovering over her. She had been more freaked when he had begun peppering her with questions like they were speed dating. And superfreaked when he had started slicing himself up and babbling about being a vampire.

But being freaked didn't stop a small, undeniable flare of relief from warming her heart.

How many years had she fretted and brooded over the knowledge that there was something different about her? How often had she pulled away from others out of fear they might discover her hidden secrets and treat her as some sort of monster?

Growing up in foster homes had taught her that people didn't trust anything that strayed from the norm. No matter how good the hearts of those who cared for her, they couldn't accept her oddities. They feared what they didn't understand, and none of them wanted her to remain beneath their roof.

She had been shoved through twenty homes in sixteen years. At last she had decided the streets were preferable. No matter how hard it was to survive, it was better than watching someone she had come to love looking at her with horror.

Now she had at last found someone just as strange as she was.

Granted he thought he was a vampire, and of course, he had rudely abducted her, but there was something weirdly comforting in the knowledge she wasn't as entirely alone as she had thought.

Cold comfort.

The words whispered through the back of her mind and she was forced to stifle a near hysterical laugh.

Cold, dead comfort.

Darcy lifted her head to stare at her captor. He had lifted himself from the bed and was standing so motionless that he might have been a mannequin.

Of course, his stillness wasn't the only unnatural thing about him.

The lean face was far too perfect. The wide brow, the deep-set black eyes surrounded by thick lashes, the sensually curved lips, the chiseled cheekbones and noble thrust of his nose. It reminded her of a polished Aztec mask. Certainly, no human had ever been that beautiful.

And what man who wasn't a rabid weight lifter or addicted to steroids could possibly possess that body?

That wasn't even to mention the blue-black hair that was intricately braided with bronze and turquoise ornaments that fell well past his waist.

He was an exotic fantasy. Just what a woman would expect for a vampire.

Or a raving lunatic.

Whichever.

Darcy tightened her fingers on the blanket and swallowed past the lump in her throat. She didn't have a clue what was going through his mind as he stared at her with that unnerving intensity.

And to be honest, it was . . . yeah, freaking her out.

"You haven't told me why I'm here," she charged. "Or even your name."

He blinked. As if he was waking from a deep sleep.

"Styx."

"Styx? Your name is Styx?"

"Yes."

Darcy grimaced. It wasn't a name to inspire warm, fuzzy feelings. But of course, he wasn't really a man to inspire anything fuzzy.

Now warm . . . hoobah.

He was fierce, terrifying, and wickedly handsome.

Too handsome with his unbuttoned shirt flapping open to reveal the perfection of his smooth, broad chest and the strange tattoo of a dragon that glittered with an odd metallic quality.