"Good grief." She resisted the urge to giggle as she tried to imagine this proud warrior as poor Oliver begging for a bowl of porridge. "You make it sound like you are no more than a helpless orphan."
He shrugged. "That's not a bad analogy."
She deliberately allowed her gaze to travel over his very large, very broad male form before returning to linger on his oh-so-white teeth.
Surely there had never been a more dangerous predator.
"An orphan with fangs?" she demanded.
He didn't so much as bat an eyelash, but Darcy physically felt his faint withdrawal. As if she had stirred up memories he kept deeply buried.
"They do little if you do not know why you have them or what to do with them," he at last said in a bleak voice.
Well, she hadn't been expecting that.
Her fingers gently moved to touch the chiseled lips. She never failed to be moved by his brief glimpses of vulnerability.
"What do you mean?"
"When vampires awaken we have no memories of our previous life, and no realization of what or who we are. Most die with the first sunrise, and even those who survive rarely make it beyond a few weeks. Not without the protection of an elder."
Darcy shivered at the thought of Styx being forced to endure such a traumatic transformation alone.
"Did you have an elder to protect you?"
His beautiful features tightened. "No."
"But you survived."
"Only by sheer luck, and even then I was too weak to battle those warriors who wished to use me as a slave."
She grimaced before she could halt her instinctive reaction. "I didn't know vampires had slaves. That's ... horrible."
"It was. More horrible than you can even imagine." His flat tone warned Darcy that she didn't want to try to imagine. "That was the reason I joined with the previous Anasso. He was determined to bring the vampires together as a race and to halt our habit of slaughtering and brutalizing one another."
Darcy battled back ridiculous tears. Her own childhood had hardly been a bed of roses, but she was beginning to suspect that it was nothing compared to Styx's past.
And yet he wasn't bitter or filled with a dark need for revenge. Instead of brooding on the sins of others, he had taken command of the situation and fought to better the world for all vampires.
How could a woman not fall in love with such a man?
"And you succeeded?" she asked softly.
"In part, but there is still much to accomplish." The haunting pain was replaced with a grim determination. "Beginning with our newest and most vulnerable brothers."
She studied him with genuine curiosity. "What are you going to do?"
"I will not allow foundlings to be abandoned by their makers. In the future they will be taken in by clans and not allowed to struggle to survive."
"You are a very good leader, Styx," she said softly.
He dipped his head to stroke her lips with a lingering kiss. Darcy felt the familiar heat, but before she could truly get down to business Styx was pulling back with a rueful sigh.
"A leader who needs to take care of Desmond," he admitted as he stepped back and reached for his heavy cape. "I don't want to leave you, angel, but I must."
"I know." Darcy wrapped her arms about her waist, disliking the strange chill of apprehension that trickled down her spine. "Just promise me that you'll be careful."
"That I can promise." He smiled before startling her as he removed the amulet that hung about his neck and gently pulled the leather band over her neck. With a jolt of power, the beautiful amulet settled between her br**sts. He framed her face with his hands as he offered her one last kiss. "I will return to you," he swore against her lips. "I will always return to you."
"Styx..."
With a shake of his head, he pulled away and slipped silently from the room.
Once alone Darcy reached up to touch the amulet about her neck. Her fingers tingled as they brushed over the smooth stone.
Perhaps it was her imagination, but she could almost believe she could feel the presence of Styx contained in the amulet. The cool surge of his power. The fierce, relentless confidence that masked a vulnerability that few were allowed to see. The unwavering loyalty to his fellow vampires.
With a sigh she moved to stretch out on the bed. She was weary to the bone, but there was an aching emptiness deep inside her.
It was an emptiness she had to admit was directly caused by the absence of Styx.
Dang it all.
He might claim that he was the only one bound by their unexpected mating, but she knew the truth.
She didn't need any tattoos to tell her that she already belonged lock, stock, and barrel to a freaking vampire.
Chapter Nineteen
It was the delicious aroma of food that lured Darcy from her light sleep.
Rubbing her hands over her face, she sat up on the bed to discover Levet hovering in the doorway with a tray in his hands.
"Levet." She groggily glanced toward the still-dark window. "What time is it?"
"A little past three."
Meaning that she had only been asleep two hours. No wonder her brain felt as if it was stuck in first gear, and her eyes scratchy enough to use as sandpaper.
With a shake of her head, she struggled to form a coherent thought.
She wasn't remotely surprised by the first one that floated to the top of her mind.
"Has Styx returned?"
The tiny gargoyle gave a flick of his dainty wings. "Not yet, but Viper called just a few minutes ago to say they had managed to track the clan chief to a small house west of the city. They should be back well before dawn."
"Oh." She battled the stupid flare of unease. Jeez, couldn't Styx be gone a few hours without her wigging out? It was getting beyond ridiculous. She sternly turned her attention to her unexpected guest. "Is that tray for me?"
"Yes."
Darcy smiled as she slipped off the bed and stretched her stiff muscles. "Thank you. It smells delicious."
Strangely the demon hesitated. "May I enter?"
"Of course." Darcy frowned in confusion. "You know you don't need to ask."
Levet grimaced. Quite a sight considering his lumpy features.
"Actually I do."
"You do?"
"I'm not supposed to be bothering you."
Darcy gave a shake of her head wondering what was wrong with the tiny demon. Goodness knew he was hardly one to hesitate barging in wherever he wanted to go.
He was impervious to insult, entirely without manners, and had skin as thick as that of a ... well, a gargoyle.