He gave a small bow toward the startled Darcy before crossing the conservatory and slipping through the open door. He felt her gaze following him, but he ignored her wary confusion as he stepped into the hallway and motioned for the hovering Raven.
DeAngelo slipped from the shadows and offered a small bow. "Master?"
"I want you to keep guard on our guest."
"Certainly."
"And tell Santiago to increase the sentries upon the grounds."
The pale face nearly hidden beneath the cowl of the robe revealed the faintest hint of surprise.
"You fear we may be attacked?"
"I don't yet know what the Weres plan." His face hardened with the anger that still simmered deep within him. "But I assure you that I intend to find out. Until then, do not allow Darcy out of your sight."
* * *
Darcy stood frowning in the solarium after the tall, unpredictable vampire had abruptly left the room.
She had never possessed the ability to read minds. And certainly she was no vampire expert. But she had long ago learned to study the body language of others, and she couldn't deny there had been an angry tension in her captor.
"Did I intrude at an inconvenient moment?"
"What?" Turning her head, Darcy realized that the gargoyle had moved to stand at her side. "Oh ... no, not at all."
He crossed his arms over his chest. "If you wish to follow him, then I will not mind. I am accustomed to women who have been enthralled by vampires. It seems to be my sad lot in life."
Darcy found herself smiling. Now that she had gotten over the shock of being around a three-foot gargoyle, she found him strangely charming.
"I am perfectly happy to remain here with you, Monsieur Levet," she said as she reached down to pat him on the shoulder. She hastily pulled her hand back at the cold moisture on his gray skin. "Oh, you're wet."
"Of course I am wet. I have been tromping about in the snow." He pointed a finger in her direction. "And all for you."
"Me?" Darcy blinked in surprise. "Why?"
"Your oh-so-charming vampire absolutely insisted that you could not survive another moment without your precious plants and every scrap of clothing that you possess, which, by the way, is not much. We must get you to a mall, ma belle. No doubt tall, dark, and broody could be convinced to give you his credit card."
She struggled to follow his spat of words, ignoring his insult to her less than stunning wardrobe.
"Plants? What are you talking about?"
The great master insisted that I return to your apartment and retrieve your plants, but did he give a thought to the poor wretch he sent out into the cold and snow? Non." Levet gave a small sniff. "I am no more than a pitiful servant in his eyes."
"Styx sent you to get my plants?"
The demon heaved a deep sigh. "I am speaking English, am I not?"
Darcy abruptly turned to pace across the empty floor. "I ... why would he do such a thing?"
The gargoyle gave a short laugh. "If you do not know then I am not about to explain it to you. I far prefer that you believe him to be a heartless monster."
A strange sensation was tingling through her body as Darcy continued to pace. "And you brought my clothes as well?"
"They are all in the kitchen. I have retrieved them, but I am no bellboy to be carrying and lugging things to your room."
"Of course not."
She gave the gargoyle a distracted smile as she moved past him and left the conservatory. For some reason she had to see her belongings for herself.
Entering the kitchen, she found them just as Levet had promised.
There were four boxes of her various plants and a small suitcase that carried her clothes.
She was staring at them with an unconscious frown when Levet joined her at the table.
"I did get them all, did I not?"
"Yes, this is all."
He gave a small sniff. "1 cannot imagine why you would wish a bunch of weeds stuck in ugly pots. They seem a great deal of trouble when you can step out the door and dig up any number of weeds just like them."
"They are not weeds; they are my companions," she corrected.
"Well, I suppose as roommates they are at least quiet."
She smiled ruefully as she reached out to touch one of her lacy ferns. "No one really understands."
There was a short beat before Levet cleared his throat. "Actually, I would guess that at least one vampire understands."
"Yes," she murmured softly, that strange tingle returning.
Styx.
He did understand. Or if he didn't understand, he was at least willing to accept the importance to her. And he had sent Levet out in the snow so that she wouldn't be fretting over her things.
It was ...
Cripes, it was sweet. And thoughtful. And not at all in keeping with a coldhearted monster who intended her harm.
And for some stupid reason it touched her far more than was reasonable.
Well, perhaps not stupid, she silently conceded. After all, when a person was alone in the world the slightest offer of kindness tended to take on greater meaning than for other people.
Even if that kindness came from a bloodthirsty vampire holding her captive.
"Excuse me," she muttered to Levet as she left the kitchen and went in search of the elusive Styx.
She needed to see the beautiful demon.
She wanted him to know she wasn't indifferent to his concern for her happiness.
As she moved through the empty living room and equally empty study, Darcy paused as a coldness prickled over her skin. It was a coldness like the one that surrounded Styx but without the added surge of excitement his always stirred.
With a swift motion she turned, not at all surprised to discover the silent vampire standing in the doorway.
"Oh." She shifted uneasily. "Hello."
The vampire was motionless as he stared at her from the depths of his heavy cowl.
"Is there some requirement that I can fulfill?" he demanded.
She resisted the urge to shiver. He looked like a mannequin. A very scary mannequin.
"I was looking for Styx. Do you know where I can find him?"
"He has left the estate."
"Do you know when he will return?"
"No."
"I see."
Darcy couldn't deny a flare of disappointment. Which was nearly as scary as the vampire standing before her. Even a woman who tried to think the best of everyone shouldn't be pining for the man holding her prisoner.
That was crazy. Just... crazy.
Chapter Seven
The trail from Darcy's bedroom to the dilapidated hotel wasn't particularly difficult to follow. That didn't, however, do anything to ease Styx's smoldering temper.