Darkness Everlasting

"You know it is possible that she will prefer to remain with her family?" he said.

Styx flinched. Damn the gargoyle. The bleak thought was a distraction he did not need at this moment.

Pushing himself ever forward through the damp, filthy drain, Styx clenched his teeth against the flare of pain.

"I have considered that possibility."

"And?" Levet prodded.

The demon was either stupid, or incredibly naive. No one with the least amount of sense poked at a vampire's wound.

"And I will not take her against her will," he gritted.

"Really?" Levet gave a startled chuckle. That's very... unvampire-like."

It was, of course.

And it went against his every instinct.

But he had learned the hard way that he couldn't force Darcy to remain at his side.

His features settled into grim lines. "I didn't say I won't devote the rest of eternity trying to change her mind."

There was a short pause before the gargoyle heaved a faint sigh. "She will have you, Styx. For all her good sense, she seems to have the deplorable ill taste to have tumbled into love with you."

Styx found his heart leaping at the demon's words. Just as if he were a weak, emotional human rather than the master and commander of all vampires.

Pathetic.

Truly pathetic.

But, what was a demon caught in the throes of love to do?

"She confessed this to you?" he demanded.

"She didn't have to. I am French." Levet gave an airy wave of his hand. "I know love when I see it."

Styx didn't even notice when his head smacked into another low-hanging bolt.

He knew that Darcy felt a connection to him. And that her emotions were deeply entangled.

He even dared hope that in time she would be willing to offer herself and complete their bonding.

What he didn't know was if was enough to overcome her deep yearning for a family.

Gritting her teeth, Darcy continued to tug at the iron shackles. Her wrists were already swollen and weeping blood from her struggles, but she refused to admit defeat.

Dang it, the sun had already fallen and there wasn't a doubt in the world that Styx was even now intent on his heroic rescue.

She had to get out of here before all hell broke loose.

Cursing and wrenching at the devil-wrought chains, Darcy nearly missed the faint prickles that raced over her skin and the low whisper that echoed through her mind.

"Darcy."

She stilled, her heart clutching with sudden fear. "Styx. Where are you?"

"I am close. Are you alone?"

"Yes, but Styx it's too dangerous," she said, speaking aloud since she had no notion if he was actually in her mind or not. "Salvatore will be expecting you."

"The Weres are being distracted."

Darcy didn't intend to ask what sort of distraction he had devised. She was beginning to learn that ignorance was truly bliss.

"It doesn't matter what the distraction, he will know you are here."

Darcy could actually feel his surge of emotions. "I do not fear a pack of dogs," he replied.

Her own raw emotions were swift to flare. Dang it. Why did men always feel as if they had to charge into battle?

"This isn't the time for your macho crap," she gritted. "You're going to make everything worse."

There was a resounding silence within her mind, and just for a moment she thought that he had pulled away from her. Then, a cold chill inched down her spine.

"You do not wish to be rescued?" he demanded. "You prefer to remain?'

Even at a distance Darcy could easily sense Styx's grim fear. He thought she was telling him to leave because she wanted to remain with the werewolves.

Her heart clenched as his pain was echoed within her.

No. Oh, no.

She had thought she needed a family to fill her heart, but that was no more than an illusion. All the love and security she would ever need could be found in the arms of her vampire.

"Of course I don't want to stay here," she said softly. "But I won't have you putting yourself in danger."

His rush of relief wrapped about her. "My only danger is being parted from you," he said, a hint of steel in his voice. "I cannot survive without you."

"Stubborn," she muttered. She knew that tone. He was coming to get her. And nothing, not even hell itself, was going to stop him. "Be careful."

His chuckle whispered through her mind. "Yes, my angel."

Leaning wearily back on the pillows, Darcy struggled to ease the frantic pace of her heart.

Dang it.

What if Salvatore was linking in the shadows waiting to ambush him? The Were was desperate. And a desperate demon was surely a dangerous demon.

Styx could be hurt. Even killed . ..

The dreadful thought was thankfully cut off as the door was firmly pushed open and a familiar male form stepped over the threshold.

A sharp, piercing relief flared through her as she allowed her gaze to roam avidly over the beautiful bronzed features and male body encased in black leather.

With his raven hair pulled back in a tight braid and a long sword strapped down his back, he looked every inch the warrior, but all Darcy could see was the tender lover who had changed her life.

"Styx," she breathed, a strange lump forming in her throat.

There was a low, dangerous growl as Styx prowled forward to touch her wounded wrists.

"I will kill him," he said, his flat tone more frightening than any shout could have been. "And it will be as slow and as painful as I can make it."

"No." She turned her arm so she could grasp his cool fingers with hers. "Just get me loose so we can get out of here." The dark eyes smoldered with suppressed violence, but his touch was gentle as he grasped the iron shackles and easily broke them in two. Scrambling off the narrow bed, she heaved a deep sigh. "Thank God."

Her feet barely hit the floor before she was gathered in Styx's arms. His lips brushed her forehead, and then he pulled back to study her bruised jaw with a narrow-eyed glare.

"You are injured."

Darcy grimaced as she snuggled closer to his hard body. So what if she was acting like the worst cliché? A weak, clinging woman depending on her big, tough man to save her. She was too damn happy to care.

"Compliments of my beloved mother," she muttered into his chest.

His arms tightened as his cheek rested on top of her head. "I am sorry, Darcy."

"It doesn't matter. She's . . ." Darcy gave a shake of her head. "Well, she's not anything like I imagined she would be. To be perfectly honest, I wish we had never met. I'd rather be alone in the world than to claim her as my mother."

"You are not alone, Darcy." His fierce tone sent a rash of goose bumps over her skin. "You have a mate. And a family anxiously waiting for me to return you to their care."

Darcy couldn't help but smile as she thought of Shay and Abby, and even their arrogant mates.

They had revealed far more care and concern for her welfare than any of the Weres. Including her mother.

Surely that was what made a family.

"Yes," she said softly.

She allowed herself to lean against his welcome strength until the sound of a throat being loudly cleared echoed through the room.

"As much as I hate to break up this movie-of-the-week moment, I really think we should shake a leg," a tiny voice commanded.

With a start of joy, she turned her head to discover the small, adorable gargoyle standing in the doorway.

"Shake a leg?" Styx demanded, his tone puzzled.

"Chop-chop." Levet gave a wave of his hands. "You know, get a move on it."

Hiding her smile, Darcy tugged herself from Styx's arms to kneel before the gargoyle and kissed him on the cheek.

"Levet."

His gray eyes lit with pleasure. "Bonjour, ma petite. I have come to save you."

"So I see."

He gave a proud flap of his wings. "You are not the first, of course. I seem to make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress. It is something of a calling."

Styx gave a loud snort, but Darcy regarded her friend with a somber expression of respect.

She would never forget that this demon placed himself in harm's way so she could escape the vampires trying to kidnap her.

"A true knight in shining armor," she said with unmistakable sincerity.

Level's chest swelled with obvious pride. "Precisement."

Moving to join them at the door, Styx muttered beneath his breath before tugging Darcy back to her feet.

"I thought you desired to ... shake a leg?" he demanded of Levet.

"Spoilsport." Levet stuck out his tongue before turning on his heel and leading them down the dark hallway.

Darcy followed behind his tiny form with Styx bringing up the rear. A glance over her shoulder revealed his cold, resolute expression as he prowled through the shadows. He was in full uber-Rambo alert. And God help anything that might stray across his path.

She sent up a silent prayer that they would manage to slip from the lair unnoticed.