He needed Darcy, and he needed her soon.
"I tried to tell her." A surge of annoyance tightened his expression. "Not surprising, she was less than convinced. She didn't even believe in werewolves until a few days ago."
"I should have known you would make a botch of this."
"A botch?" His hands itched to circle her slender neck. He was king. His decisions were not open to debate. "I notice you do not have any of your delightful daughters tied to your apron strings. I, at least, have managed to locate and make contact with Darcy. It is considerably more than you have been able to do."
Sophia moved with sinuous grace to sand before him. "And where is she now? In the hands of the vampires?" she sneered. "Ah yes, you've done a magnificent job."
He resisted the urge to once again push her away. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing her proximity bothered him.
"As I said, she will soon come searching for me. I have the answers she so desperately desires."
"You fool. We can't sit around simply hoping she might decide to contact you."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I intend to bring my daughter home."
His eyes narrowed. "Or more likely send her fleeing in terror."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Darcy was raised by humans," he reminded her in a mocking tone. "Do you truly think that you can play the role of June Cleaver?"
Her lip curled. "I can for long enough to lure her from the arms of her vampire. After that, any doting will have to be done by you."
Doting?
Salvatore gave a mental shrug. He had never tried doting, but if that's what it took to get Darcy in his bed, then so be it.
He needed heirs. Strong heirs who could replenish the fading Weres.
He would do whatever was necessary to achieve that.
Styx realized that he had completely lost his wits.
There was no other explanation for why he was anxiously pacing the floor while Darcy dressed in the adjoining bathroom.
By the gods, the woman was twenty-five feet away. Close enough he could hear her every movement and smell the warm scent of her skin. He could be at her side within less than a blink of an eye.
But the mere fact that there was a slender door between the two of them was enough to make him long to snarl and snap with aggravation.
It went beyond ridiculous.
Tugging on his clothes with a sharp impatience, Styx was still chiding himself on his strange unease when a faint, muffled cry echoed through the room.
With a flare of fear he was across the room and smashing the door open. His gaze swept the bathroom, searching for whatever had made Darcy cry out.
What he discovered was Darcy seated on the edge of the vast tub wearing only her jeans and a lacy bra as she regarded her arm with horror.
Presuming she must have somehow hurt herself, he flowed to her side and knelt before her.
"Darcy," he said softly, waiting until her gaze at last lifted to meet his concerned regard. "Angel, what is it?"
"My arm." Looking oddly dazed, she held out her arm. "There's something wrong with it."
He carefully cradled her arm in his hands, his lingers instinctively tightening as he caught sight of the crimson scrolling that crawled beneath the skin of her forearm.
Just for a moment he stilled, attempting to accept what he was seeing. It wasn't that he didn't know what it was. Every vampire could recognize such an ancient symbol.
And it wasn't even that some part of him hadn't expected the appearance of the mark. He had known from the beginning that his reaction to this woman was for more powerful than it should be. And when she had taken his blood into her, it had all but settled the issue.
Still, it took a long minute before realization truly settled into his mind.
A realization that was swiftly followed by a flash of overwhelming satisfaction.
A fierce male joy in possession.
It was his reaction that shocked him more than anything.
"Bloody hell," he at last breathed.
"What?" Her fingers curled into a fist as she struggled to contain her panic. "Am I sick? Do I have some disease?"
Styx sternly shook off his shock and forced himself to concentrate on the woman seated before him.
She had no idea what was happening to her. The question was whether not knowing or knowing would terrify her more.
"No." He forced his fingers to loosen although he was wise enough to keep his grip on her. "You are perfectly fine, Darcy, that I promise you."
"You know what this is?"
He hesitated before giving a slow nod. "Yes."
"Tell me," she demanded.
"Do you swear that you won't run from me if I tell you the truth?"
She sucked in a sharp breath. "Dammit, Styx, you're scaring me."
He leaned close, his gaze boring into her own. "There is nothing to be frightened of, angel, but I want your promise that you will hear me out before you do something reckless."
A portion of her fear oddly seemed to fade as her wariness deepened. No doubt she was beginning to suspect that the crimson that shimmered beneath her skin had nothing to do with any fatal disease.
"Did you do this to me?" she demanded.
"I do not yet have your promise, Darcy."
"For God's sake, just tell me," she rasped with impatience.
Accepting that he wasn't about to receive any promise, Styx tightened his grip. Obviously he would have to take direct measures to make sure that she didn't manage to slip away.
"This is the mark of mating," he said softly.
Her wide gaze lowered to her arm. "I have a tattoo because we slept together? Jeez. That's something you might have mentioned. I mean . . . crap, what does it say? I had sex with Styx?"
He hid his flare of amusement at her outrage. Ah, if it were only that simple.
"It is a symbol, Darcy, not words, and you do not have it because we had sex. It is the physical representation of an ancient bonding."
"Could you say that again in English?" she demanded.
He swallowed a sigh. She was not a vampire and had no knowledge of the demon world, he reminded himself sternly. She was bound to be confused.
"It is the mark of a true mating."
"True mating?" Her face visibly paled. "As in ... happily ever after and after and after?"
"In part."
"What do you mean, in part?"
"This mark reveals that you are my true mate, but for a complete melding, you would have to open yourself to me utterly and without hesitation."