Darkness Everlasting (Guardians of Eternity #3)(58)

"I still think I should stay." Hess turned his head to bare his teeth at Darcy. "I don't trust this woman. She smells of deceit."

"Hey . . ." Darcy began to protest only to choke off with a gasp when Salvatore lazily backhanded the man.

Giving a startled yip, the man fell to his knees and pressed a hand to his bleeding mouth.

"This woman is destined to be your queen, Hess,"

Salvatore said in a dark tone. "And more importantly, I have warned you more than once that when I want your opinion I'll ask for it. Until then, you will do as I command without question? Do you understand?"

"Yes, my lord." After climbing to his feet, Hess performed a bow, then backed away with obvious caution.

Darcy waited until Hess disappeared into the trees and the hovering sense of violence slowly eased before breathing a deep sigh.

"Cripes."

Salvatore moved smoothly forward, halting only when Darcy tensed at his proximity.

"I'm sorry if he frightened you, cara," he soothed. "Curs are unruly by nature, and Hess more so than most. It makes him a less than dependable servant."

She wet her suddenly dry lips. "He wasn't the one who frightened me," she said slowly. "Do you always hit your servants like that?"

He shrugged. "We are werewolves, Darcy, not humans. And, like all demons, we are violent beasts. We respect strength. I am not king just because I am a pureblood. It is my power that makes me a leader."

A chill touched her heart. "I can't believe that all demons are violent."

"Perhaps a few can claim a more gentle nature, but I assure you, most demons depend on sheer brute force. It is the way of our world."

Her gaze dropped as her stomach clenched with unease. She wouldn't believe she was somehow destined to become a savage beast.

Surely it wasn't in her character, no matter how bad her blood.

No, of course it wasn't. She wouldn't allow it to be.

Raising her head, Darcy met the golden gaze. "Then I don't like your world much."

Salvatore frowned at her fierce words. "You think that vampires are any different?"

"Perhaps not." She eyed him squarely. "But I have never feared that Styx would backhand me."

"Ah." He studied her closely. "You think I would?"

"You tell me."

"I would cause you pain only if that was what you desired. You are my consort, my queen. We are equals."

Darcy frowned. Salvatore had previously hinted about and implied an intimate interest in her, but nothing like this.

She could only imagine that he was playing some joke on her.

"Yeah right. Me a queen, very funny," she muttered.

He frowned, his head tilting to the side as he inhaled deeply. No doubt he was smelling what she was thinking, what she was feeling, and what she had for dinner two weeks ago.

Freaking demon noses.

At last he gave a slow shake of his head. "It wasn't meant to be funny."

"Good, because it isn't," she retorted. "How the heck could I be queen of the werewolves when I'm obviously not one?"

The golden eyes flashed with something that might have been regret. "This is not how I wished to tell you the truth, cara. You are making this more difficult than it must be."

Oh no, no, no.

That chill returned to Darcy's heart, and without thought she was suddenly slipping away from the car to put some much needed distance between her and the hovering werewolf.

She didn't know what he was going to say, but she suspected that she didn't want to hear it.

"Then maybe we should change the conversation," she said in a sharp tone. "Tell me about the picture. Who is that woman?"

Salvatore was wise enough not to pursue her. Instead, he leaned elegantly against the sports car.

"Someone who very much wishes to meet you."

"Then why isn't she with you?"

"She should arrive in Chicago by tomorrow, or the next day at the latest."

Darcy blinked in surprise. She wasn't in Chicago?

She wasn't locked in some dungeon, perhaps even now being tortured?

"She isn't... staying with you?"

"Not at the moment." Salvatore gave a lift of his shoulder. "She has been occupied with her own responsibilities over the past few weeks, but the moment I called and told her that you had contacted me, she dropped everything to rush and be at your side."

Darcy struggled to rearrange her thoughts. An astonishingly difficult task.

"So she isn't in any sort of danger?"

"Of course not." His eyes narrowed at her confused expression. "Is something the matter?"

Well, nothing more than the fact that she had utterly panicked at the thought that she might have discovered her mother and was in danger of losing her. And that her panic had led her (in a rather roundabout way) to flee Styx, expose herself to a jealous werewolf intent on killing her, commit grand-theft auto, and now stand in a freezing park while her stomach growled with hunger.

What the hell could be the matter?

She cleared her throat. "How do you know her?"

"We have been close for more years than you can possibly imagine."

"Oh . . ." She pondered his words until she realized what he must mean. Gripes. That was something that had never occurred to her. "Oh."