Taken By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #7.25)(4)

The emerald eyes flashed with fury as Juliet thrust her way past him, headed across the terrace.

“How vastly considerate of you, my lord.”

With blinding speed he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and jerking her back against his chest. Growling deep in his throat, Victor buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“I can be much more than merely considerate, sweet Juliet. I will give you whatever you desire…” His body stiffened in shock. “Bloody hell, why do you smell of gargoyle?”

Juliet resisted the urge to struggle against Victor’s restraining arms.

Despite the fact that she appeared to be a mere debutante among humans, she was in fact over a century old, and she had learned long ago that battling against a predator only inflamed his instincts.

And the Marquis DeRosa was very much a predator.

A beautiful, exotic, sensually lethal predator.

Holding herself rigid, she pretended indifference to the thrilling pleasure of his unyielding arms wrapped around her and the brush of his lips against her skin. Not that she was foolish enough to believe Victor was unaware of her thundering heart and the searing excitement that coiled through the pit of her stomach. The aggravating demon was always swift to pounce on her uncontrollable reaction to his potent masculinity.

“For God’s sake, stop sniffing me,” she gritted. “It is rude.”

He nipped at her neck, his fangs scraping her sensitive skin.

“Tell me where you came into contact with a gargoyle.”

She closed her eyes, fiercely attempting to ignore the jolt of need searing through her.

She had desired Victor from the moment she had caught sight of him across a crowded ballroom. Utterly and desperately. But she was not a fool.

Women who were stupid enough to fall victim to a vampire’s seduction were doomed to become mere ruins of their former selves.

“I am not your property, Marquis DeRosa, and I do not have to tell you anything,” she hissed.

“Property? No. But you are mine and if you refuse to tell me, then I will simply ask the Guild—”

With a sudden gasp, Juliet was turning in his arms, her expression one of horror. “No.”

His brows lowered, the silver eyes studying her with an unnerving intensity. “You have not allowed that foolishly soft heart of yours to put you in danger, have you?”

“Of course not.”

He cupped her chin in a slender hand, his beautiful features tightening with a dangerous impatience.

“Juliet.”

She blew out a resigned sigh. The clan chief rarely exposed his formidable power in her presence, but when he did, she was wise enough to avoid trouble.

“A few months ago I discovered a gargoyle in Justin’s attics.”

“Did you?” The silver eyes narrowed. “Hawthorne must have an object of great worth to go to the expense and bother of negotiating with the Guild to provide protection for his mansion.”

“This particular gargoyle does not happen to belong to the Guild.”

“Impossible. He would not be allowed to hire out his services unless he was a member.”

Juliet grimaced. When she had first stumbled across the gargoyle, she hadn’t known what to think of the odd little creature.

Like most other gargoyles, Levet possessed grotesque features and a thick gray hide that turned to stone during the day. He also had a long tail he kept faithfully polished and a thick French accent.

Unlike most of his terrifying brethren, however, Levet was barely knee high, with delicate fairy wings that shimmered with brilliant blues and crimsons and were veined with gold. Even worse, his magic was unpredictable at best and inclined to cause more trouble than it was worth.

As a result the poor thing had been banished from his Guild and treated as little more than a leper among the demon world.

Juliet better than most understood the pain of never truly belonging.

Which no doubt explained why Levet had so swiftly earned a place in her wary heart. She would do whatever necessary to protect him.

“Levet did not hire out his services. If you must know, he was refused entry into the Guild because he is…”

A raven brow arched as she hesitated. “Yes?”

“He is unusually tiny and considered deformed by his brethren,” she snapped. “Are you satisfied?”

“A deformed gargoyle?”

“Do not mock him.”

The silver eyes shimmered with a wicked amusement. “I am not so clumsy as to insult your friend. My enjoyment is at the thought of Hawthorne’s reaction to a miniature gargoyle cowering in his attics.”

“My household is none of your concern, DeRosa.” A deep male voice echoed through the darkness as Lord Hawthorne climbed the steps from the garden. “Neither is my apprentice.”

Juliet rolled her eyes as Victor’s arm tightened around her waist and an icy smile curved his lips.

The two men had been adversaries since Justin, Lord Hawthorne, and Juliet had arrived in London. Thus far the hostilities had not broken into open bloodshed, but Juliet sensed that it was only a matter of time.

Until then they took ridiculous delight in goading each other.

“Do you think to frighten me, mage?” Victor mocked.

Justin slowly crossed the terrace, his hand smoothing down the charcoal-gray jacket that he had matched with a black waistcoat and white knee breeches.