Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #9)(100)

A kiss?

His heart gave one of those flutters, his blood heating at the mere thought of pulling her tiny body into his arms and tasting her brimstone passion. He had waited so long.

“It might—” He snapped his lips together. Mon Dieu. She had nearly done it to him again. “Non. This is no time for your games.”

She pouted, but catching sight of his sour expression, she heaved a sigh. “Perhaps you’re right.”

He glanced around the shadowed garden, half expecting Yannah’s mother to be hiding among the hedges. Which was ridiculous. Siljar was an Oracle, not a thief that skulked in the bushes. Not to mention the pertinent fact, she had the sort of power signature that could crush at a hundred paces.

If she was nearby, he would know.

He returned his attention to the tiny female who moved to stand in front of him, her white robe long enough to brush the paving stones. “Why are you here?”

“I sensed your unhappiness.” She reached to gently stroke the tip of one stunted horn. “Tell me.”

“I’ve done something I will never forgive myself for,” he shocked himself by admitting.

It had nothing to do with her soft touch or the hint of sympathy in her dark eyes, he assured himself. He wasn’t that easily manipulated.

It was just . . . he needed someone to talk to.

Anyone would do. Even the marble statue of Neptune that spouted water out of his head.

Yeah, that was it.

“Ah.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve called for the Goddess of Light.”

Levet didn’t bother to ask how the female knew he’d used his magic to speak directly into Abby’s mind. Or that he’d urged her to travel to the rift. Yannah had more than one mysterious talent.

“Oui.”

“Why does that trouble you?” Yannah frowned, obviously puzzled by his distress. “It’s the purpose of the Phoenix to stand against the tide of darkness.”

“Because the Phoenix will not be charging into the battle alone,” Levet said, his wings drooping at the mere thought of sweet, oh-so-fragile Abby standing face-to-face with the Dark Lord. “The spirit will take ma chérie amie along for the outing.”

Yannah gave a faint shake of her head. “You mean along for the ride?”

“That is what I said, is it not?” he asked with an impatient frown.

“Yes, well, it’s a time of change.” Yannah tried to soothe. “We’re all called to do our duty, whether we like it or not.”

Levet pulled away from her distracting touch, pacing the distance between two ornate urns. “Well, I do not like it,” he muttered, his tail whipping behind him. “I do not like it at all.”

“Please stop, Levet,” Yannah pleaded. “You’re making my head spin.”

“Bien.” He came to a halt. Not because that’s what she wanted. But how else could he send her a warning glare? “You have been making my head spin from the moment we met.” He pointed a claw in her direction. “And, you punched me.”

“It was a love-tap.”

Levet made a sound of disbelief. “Love-tap? You broke my jaw.”

“Do you want an apology?”

What he wanted was for her to kiss and make it better, a renegade voice whispered.

Kiss him over and over and over.

And not just on the jaw.

They could slip into the grotto where they would be all alone. He could at last indulge in the fantasies that had plagued him for weeks.

Non. Non. Non.

He folded his arms over his chest, just like he’d seen Styx do when he wanted to be an intimidating badass. “I want to be left in peace.”

Yannah studied him, the dark gaze unnerving in its intensity. “This is more than guilt at calling your friend into danger, isn’t it?”

He started to deny her ridiculous accusation only to find the words dying on his lips. Against his will his gaze shifted to the mansion where he could hear the rumble of vampires and Weres shouting orders.

“They are preparing for war while I am condemned to the gardens. You see, my skills are”—he searched for the appropriate word—“lacking.”

Yannah regarded him with a shocked confusion that seemed genuine. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“No.” She gave a fierce shake of her head, the braid swinging from side to side. “It’s not true.”

Any other night Levet would have reveled in her fierce defense. Why not? He’d tried every trick possible to capture her attention only to be dismissed, abandoned, and forgotten.

Tonight, however, he’d been brutally reminded of his numerous inadequacies. With a grimace, he glanced down at his stunted body. “Look at me.”

“I have looked,” she assured him. “More than once.”

He lifted his head with a scowl. “If I were one of my brothers they would beg for my assistance. I would be a powerful warrior with magic that would make even the Dark Lord tremble in fear.”

She slowly stepped forward, her hands folded at her waist and the moonlight pooling around her. Despite her tiny size, she looked as regal as any queen.

“No, Levet,” she said, her voice oddly somber. “If you were one of your brothers you would be hibernating in your lair waiting to offer your loyalty to whoever comes out the winner.”