Levet (Guardians of Eternity #9.5)(6)

Responsibility?

He’d all but gone on his knees to beg for a place in her life.

Hadn’t he?

With a strange lack of his usual grace, he walked toward a window that offered a glimpse of Valla straightening the pillows on her froufrou couch.

As always he was struck by the stunning beauty of her golden hair that haloed her delicate features and the wide, guileless blue eyes. And that lush body . . . mon dieu, he’d spent endless hours imagining the feel of those curves beneath him.

But at the same time he couldn’t deny a fierce urge to protect her.

She was so fragile. So exquisitely vulnerable. Had she mistaken his instinctive need to keep his mate from any possible harm with a sense of duty?

“That’s—” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “How can she be so foolish?”

The gargoyle joined him near the window. “Have you given her reason to think she means more?”

Of course not, he wryly conceded. He was a male. He didn’t talk about his feelings. She was simply supposed to know what was in his heart.

“I need to speak with her,” he muttered, sending his companion a warning frown. “Alone.”

“Naturellement.”

CHAPTER 4

Waiting until the vampire had disappeared into the apartment, Levet squared his shoulders and marched out of the courtyard.

Bien. No more Monsieur Nice Guy.

He’d been caught off-guard by his sister and cousin.

Now that he was fully prepared, he wouldn’t be halted from his goal.

He had his courage firmly intact.

Oh, and he’d managed to “borrow” a disguise amulet he’d seen laying on Valla’s counter when she’d been busy making tea.

The tiny bit of gold was now hung around his neck by a leather string and would make him invisible to all but the most powerful witches.

This time, no one would sense he was coming.

Puffing out his chest, and spreading his wings, Levet took to the air, soaring over the city as he headed toward the Latin Quarter.

It was . . . stunning.

Even after he’d traveled around the world and seen some of the most spectacular sights to be found, there was nothing quite so beautiful as Paris at night.

At last reaching his destination, Levet carefully landed on the shadowed street, studying the Gothic church that was situated only a few blocks from the Seine.

Constructed in the sixth century on the site where a hermit had lived and prayed, the Church of Saint-Séverin was built in the shape of a long, narrow hall. It had a tower, along with ornately topped pillars and pointed, Romanesque arches for windows and doors.

Tourists came to admire the Gothic architecture and to stroll through the gardens, or even to enjoy the Greek restaurant just down the street. But the pièce de résistance was the gargoyles who had stood guard for centuries.

During the daylight hours all gargoyles turned to stone. Unlike Levet, however, most were capable of altering their shape which meant that even the largest demon could shrink down to fit on the side of a building. What better place to hide from the humans than in plain sight?

At night they came out to play.

And pillage and plunder and create all-around mayhem among the demon world.

Usually they left the humans alone....

Usually.

Realizing that he was delaying the inevitable, Levet squared his shoulders and headed into the church. He didn’t pause to admire the peaceful beauty of the nave, instead heading directly toward the bay door that opened into the garden that had once been a graveyard.

He was here with a purpose. Why the purpose had suddenly become so important . . .

He gave a sharp shake of his head.

Bah, that was a question for later.

Bypassing the long galleries that had been reconstructed to their medieval glory, he headed toward the very back of the garden. At last reaching the spot he was searching for, he sucked in a deep, steadying breath.

Only when he was mentally prepared did he step through the illusion that hid the ancient stone building.

Levet grimaced. Home, sweet home.

Waddling up the stairs that led to the door, he felt a familiar sense of bleak yearning tug at his heart, swiftly followed by a bitter sense of betrayal.

There were no happy memories to ease his return. No sense of comfort.

His childhood had been a miserable fight for survival among his brutal siblings. Oh, and the last time he’d seen his mother, she’d tried to kill him.

Hardly the ingredients for a happy family reunion. Reaching the door, he wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked. What demon would be stupid enough to enter the lair of the doyenne of the gargoyle nest?

He stepped into the large room with a lofted, cathedral ceiling and plenty of room for a gargoyle to spread her wings. The floors were made of hardwood and deeply gouged by his mother’s five-inch claws. And high above were wide windows that offered a view of the night sky.

The rest of the interior was something out of an Arabian Nights nightmare.

Crimson painted walls, gold and black silk pillows piled in the middle of the floor with a large hookah set beside them.

Levet had never been sure if his mother’s fantasy was to be the sheikh or the harem girl.

And not knowing was the only thing that kept him out of therapy.

“So it’s true,” a female voice boomed through the air, the floor shuddering beneath the weight of the approaching gargoyle. “The prodigal son returns.”