Taken By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #7.25)(10)



It was the latter thought that triggered his blast of icy power, sending the humans and lesser demons fleeing the room in fear and his brothers falling onto their knees.

“Where is Hawthorne?”

“He is in the Hampton Court gardens, still attempting to lure Yiant out of hiding.”

Uriel’s explanation reminded Victor of yet another mystery nagging at him.

“Have you discovered what has disturbed the sprites?”

“I fear not, master.”

Victor flicked his finger, commanding Uriel to his feet.

“Perhaps my absence from London has allowed my clan to forget that my commands are not mere suggestions,” he said, the frigid force of his voice wrapping around his servant and causing him to flinch in pain. “I do expect to be obeyed.”

“Forgive us, master,” the vampire pleaded, his voice tight with the knowledge Victor could kill him with one blow. “We have sought to discover the truth, but the sprites refuse to speak.”

“Refuse? How very bold of them,” Victor drawled, his gaze skimming over his cringing clansmen. “And how very disappointing that my fine warriors have been bested by a handful of fey.”

“We will discover the truth,” Uriel pledged.

“Yes, you will.” Victor narrowed his gaze, dismissing the trifling annoyance from his mind. He had far more important matters to command his attention. Not the least of which was putting an end to his delicate dance with Miss Juliet Lawrence. He had struggled to be patient, but he would not tolerate having her in danger. And he most certainly would not tolerate her taking a lover. He would kill any man who dared to touch her. “Tonight, however, you will prepare chambers for Miss Lawrence and rid the lair of any undesirable guests before I return.”

There was a brief flicker of surprise before Uriel managed to smooth his expression.

“Yes, master.”

Victor headed across the room, pausing at the doorway. “Ah, and I will need the services of a chef.”

“I…” Uriel blinked, then gave a hasty nod of his head. “Certainly.”

Stepping into the antechamber, Victor pulled a satin cloak over his formal evening attire and glanced toward Madame Andreas, a lushly curved female who hovered with the rest of the humans.

With a tiny cry of pleasure, the blonde rushed forward, sinking into a deep curtsy that called attention to pearly mounds of br**sts that overflowed the velvet gown.

“Francine.”

“My lord?” she breathed.

“Hawthorne will be returning to his home within the next few hours. I want you to be waiting for him.”

“Do you have any specific instructions?”

“Ensure that he remains unaware that Miss Lawrence is not in her bed. The more hours you can keep him distracted, the better.”

She daringly lifted her gaze, regarding him with a stark sexual hunger.

“A foolish waste of my talents. Send one of your other females to Hawthorne and I will make you forget the dowdy Miss Lawrence.”

Victor’s expression hardened with unmistakable warning. “Do not speak her name.”

“What is so bloody special about her?” the woman demanded with a petulant jealousy.

“She is mine.”

Chapter Three

Juliet was well aware of the dangers of traveling through London in the middle of the night.

Oh, not the usual dangers.

Any criminal or drunken lout who thought she was easy prey would soon discover the error of their ways, but there were predators that hunted the streets far more lethal than the human variety.

Mages, fey, demons…

All of whom could destroy her with embarrassing ease.

Which was why she had brought along her mother’s amulet, which allowed her to focus the small amount of magic she possessed. In addition, she had grabbed a well-worn crystal that glowed with a soft power. It was the only possession she had from her father and it stirred her imp blood.

The objects would not save her from a full-blooded demon who wanted her dead, but they offered some protection.

Leaving behind the elegant neighborhoods, Juliet silently moved through the shadows, headed toward the cramped, narrow Rosemary Lane and onto Pennington Street, which eventually spilled onto the docks.

Once among the warren of warehouses and quays, Juliet halted, not at all certain where to begin her search.

Levet had said the docks, but they sprawled along the Thames from the medieval London docks to the East and West Indies docks that were still under construction. They were also crowded with sailors and dockhands even at this hour.

How the devil was she supposed to find a tiny gargoyle among the confusion?

Rubbing her nose at the potent stench that clogged the air, Juliet was considering the nearest warehouse when her skin abruptly prickled with warning, a chill wrapping around her.

A dark premonition crawled up her spine and with a gasp she whirled. Her heart lodged in her throat at the sight of the Marquis DeRosa, his raven hair pulled back to reveal the stark beauty of his face and his eyes shimmering pure silver in the moonlight.

“Now what, I wonder, would entice a young and innocent maiden to the docks at this hour?” he mocked softly.

She pressed a hand to her churning stomach, her brows drawing together in annoyance.

“My lord.”

“Victor.”

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