Her gaze dropped as her stomach clenched with unease. She wouldn't believe she was somehow destined to become a savage beast.
Surely it wasn't in her character, no matter how bad her blood.
No, of course it wasn't. She wouldn't allow it to be.
Raising her head, Darcy met the golden gaze. "Then I don't like your world much."
Salvatore frowned at her fierce words. "You think that vampires are any different?"
"Perhaps not." She eyed him squarely. "But I have never feared that Styx would backhand me."
"Ah." He studied her closely. "You think I would?"
"You tell me."
"I would cause you pain only if that was what you desired. You are my consort, my queen. We are equals."
Darcy frowned. Salvatore had previously hinted about and implied an intimate interest in her, but nothing like this.
She could only imagine that he was playing some joke on her.
"Yeah right. Me a queen, very funny," she muttered.
He frowned, his head tilting to the side as he inhaled deeply. No doubt he was smelling what she was thinking, what she was feeling, and what she had for dinner two weeks ago.
Freaking demon noses.
At last he gave a slow shake of his head. "It wasn't meant to be funny."
"Good, because it isn't," she retorted. "How the heck could I be queen of the werewolves when I'm obviously not one?"
The golden eyes flashed with something that might have been regret. "This is not how I wished to tell you the truth, cara. You are making this more difficult than it must be."
Oh no, no, no.
That chill returned to Darcy's heart, and without thought she was suddenly slipping away from the car to put some much needed distance between her and the hovering werewolf.
She didn't know what he was going to say, but she suspected that she didn't want to hear it.
"Then maybe we should change the conversation," she said in a sharp tone. "Tell me about the picture. Who is that woman?"
Salvatore was wise enough not to pursue her. Instead, he leaned elegantly against the sports car.
"Someone who very much wishes to meet you."
"Then why isn't she with you?"
"She should arrive in Chicago by tomorrow, or the next day at the latest."
Darcy blinked in surprise. She wasn't in Chicago?
She wasn't locked in some dungeon, perhaps even now being tortured?
"She isn't... staying with you?"
"Not at the moment." Salvatore gave a lift of his shoulder. "She has been occupied with her own responsibilities over the past few weeks, but the moment I called and told her that you had contacted me, she dropped everything to rush and be at your side."
Darcy struggled to rearrange her thoughts. An astonishingly difficult task.
"So she isn't in any sort of danger?"
"Of course not." His eyes narrowed at her confused expression. "Is something the matter?"
Well, nothing more than the fact that she had utterly panicked at the thought that she might have discovered her mother and was in danger of losing her. And that her panic had led her (in a rather roundabout way) to flee Styx, expose herself to a jealous werewolf intent on killing her, commit grand-theft auto, and now stand in a freezing park while her stomach growled with hunger.
What the hell could be the matter?
She cleared her throat. "How do you know her?"
"We have been close for more years than you can possibly imagine."
"Oh . . ." She pondered his words until she realized what he must mean. Gripes. That was something that had never occurred to her. "Oh."
His lips curled into a sensual smile. "From that delightful blush I can only presume that you've leaped to the conclusion that we're lovers."
"Are you?" she bluntly demanded.
"No." He lightly stroked his pale blue tie. "Sophia is certainly beautiful and exciting enough to tempt any man, but she already possesses several lovers. I prefer to be something more than one of the pack."
Lovers? As in plural? As in an entire harem?
Jeez. This just kept getting stranger and stranger.
Which was saying something.
Darcy pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples. She needed more than six hours of sleep in a cramped car to deal with all of this.
"Cripes, this is giving me a headache." She glared toward Salvatore, deciding she had had enough of the veiled implications and subtle hints. Time to take the bull by the horns. Or the wolf by his teeth. Whatever. She sucked in a deep breath. "Who is that woman?"
"I think it would be obvious."
"Humor me."
There was a tense pause before he pushed from the car to stand directly before her.
"The woman is your mother, Darcy," he said.
Even expecting his words, she felt her knees go weak and her heart lodge in her throat.
"You're certain?" she whispered.
He reached out to lightly touch her pale cheek. "Considering that I was there when you were born, I am very certain." His finger smoothed over her cheek to the corner of her lips. "You were an astonishingly beautiful baby, as were your sisters."
"Sisters?" She abruptly grasped his wrists in a fierce grip. It was that or tumbling to her knees. "I have sisters?"
"Your mother gave birth to quadruplets," he said smoothly. "Not an unusual event for a pureblood."
With a cry Dairy began to step away, her hands held up in a pleading motion.
"Wait. Just. . . wait."
He blinked at her fierce reaction, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb of nuclear proportions on her.
"What is it, Darcy? Are you unwell?"
She wrapped her arms around her waist as she continued to back away. "I'm overwhelmed. I need a minute."
His lips thinned as he easily sensed her barely contained panic.
"I did warn you this was not the setting for this conversation."
"I assure you that the setting has nothing to do with my reaction." She gave a short, near hysterical laugh. "For God's sake, I've been utterly alone for thirty years and now suddenly I discover I not only have a mother, but three sisters as well." She swallowed the strange lump in her throat. "And on top of that, you have more than implied that my mother is a werewolf. Which would mean ..."
"That you are a werewolf," he completed softly. "Si."
"No," she instinctively denied. Styx had claimed that Salvatore was attempting to trick and deceive her. The ancient vampire was obviously right. That was easier to believe than the thought that Salvatore was telling the truth. "It's not possible."