When Darkness Ends (Guardians of Eternity #12)(22)

“Of course.” Fallon hid her flare of amusement. There was something excessively charming about the small demon being utterly unafraid of a vicious vampire ten times his size. “You said when you arrived that Siljar sent you. Are you a part of the Commission?”

“Moi? Non.” He gave a dramatic shudder. “I have discovered that being entangled in Oracle business always includes some daring adventure that ends with me doing all the work and some vampire or werewolf ending up with the beautiful maiden.”

She blinked. “I . . . see.”

“Still, I could hardly ignore Siljar’s summons, or refuse her request that I assist Cyn and you in your efforts.”

Fallon grimaced, easily able to imagine how happy Cyn was going to be when he crawled out of his coffin, or whatever it was a vampire slept in, and discovered the gargoyle still in his lair.

“So now Cyn has two unwelcome guests,” she murmured.

Levet waggled his brows. “And one that is very welcome.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A female vampire just arrived,” he explained. “They seemed to be very close friends.”

Fallon narrowed her gaze. Cyn was entertaining another female vampire?

Was he suicidal? That could be the only excuse for deliberately trying to piss off Siljar.

“Indeed,” she said between clenched teeth.

Levet tilted his head to the side. “Is something wrong?”

“Cyn clearly has difficulty following orders.”

“Cyn follow orders?” Levet gave a light laugh. “From what I have heard, the clan chief of Ireland does precisely as he pleases whenever he pleases.”

“You know him?”

Levet shrugged. “He spent a few nights at Styx’s lair, but his reputation is widely known.”

Fallon hesitated. She’d never enjoyed joining in the gossip that swirled around the royal court. Who cared who was flirting with whom, or which House was vying for more power?

Now she found herself incapable of resisting the urge to probe for information on her aggravating host.

“What reputation?” she at last demanded.

“He is a fierce warrior, naturally,” Levet said, his tail aimlessly twirling around his clawed feet. “Berserkers are always dangerous savages.”

Fallon frowned. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that Cyn was a lethal enemy.

“Is that all?”

“Non.” Levet waved a hand to indicate the vast medieval palace that served as Cyn’s lair. “He is also a notorious hedonist who takes great pleasure in indulging his senses. His parties are legendary throughout Europe.”

Fallon released her breath as a low hiss.

She’d already suspected the truth. No man could be so gorgeous and possess such irresistible charm without attracting hordes of women.

And he wasn’t the sort of vampire to say “no” to a night of fun.

“I knew it,” she muttered.

“Knew what?”

“He’s what you would call a player, isn’t he?”

Levet’s brow furrowed with confusion. “Does that trouble you?”

Did it?

Hell, yeah.

And she didn’t know why. Okay, she was attracted to him.

Indecently, compulsively, unexplainably attracted.

But it wasn’t like she was going to give in to her desires.

Was she?

She wrapped her arms around her waist, telling herself that the small shiver was caused by the nip in the air, not the image she had of being spread across his bed while Cyn gently peeled off her robe, his fangs pressed against the vulnerable flesh of her throat.

A hot flash seared away any hint of a chill, sending a rush of color to her cheeks.

“Not as long as he realizes he can’t play me,” she forced herself to snap, acutely aware of the gargoyle’s gaze that saw too much.

“Few women can resist the allure of a vampire,” Levet said, heaving a deep sigh. “It is a baffling mystery of nature, like rainbows and unicorns and the breakup of the Backstreet Boys.” He shook his head. “Unexplainable.”

“Chatri females prefer men who are cultured, intellectual companions, not heathens,” she lied with perfect composure.

“Is that right, princess?” a dark male voice drawled from behind her.

Oh . . . crap.

Slowly turning, Fallon watched as Cyn stalked toward her, holding two large bags.

He looked delectable in a pair of casual jeans that hung low on his hips and a cream cable-knit sweater that did nothing to disguise the massive width of his shoulders. The casual style should have made him seem less intimidating. Instead it only emphasized his lethal power and the impossible beauty of his fiercely male features.

But it wasn’t just his undeniably gorgeous face and large body that made her heart slam against her ribs.

Halting just a few feet from her, the clan chief seemed to suck the air from the hallway, commanding attention by the sheer force of his presence.

A purebred male in the finest sense of the word.

She sternly squashed the urge to flutter like a damned dew fairy. She was a royal princess.

She didn’t flutter.

At least not visibly.

“I thought you were entertaining a guest,” she said, proud of her cool, aloof tone.