Taken By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #7.25)(3)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

It had been like this from the beginning.

Two years ago Juliet had walked into a London ballroom on the arm of Lord Hawthorne and every other woman had faded to meaningless shadows. Victor had known in that moment he had to have her. And it had not taken his heightened senses to know she was equally aroused.

Not that she was willing to admit as much.

No, for her own inexplicable reason, she was determined to keep him at a distance.

He growled as his arms wrapped around her tiny waist, hauling her hard against his body.

“Come into the gardens with me.”

“If it is time for your dinner then I suggest you find one of your concubines to slake your hunger.”

“I do not hunger for my dinner.” His lips traced a path down her collarbone before skimming up the curve of her throat. “Such exquisite skin.”

He felt her tremble in need, her hands pressed against his shoulders. “And I do not share my body any more readily than my blood.”

Pulling back, Victor regarded her with a brooding gaze. “I traveled to Venice to put you from my mind, but it was an impossible task. You haunt me, little one, and that is unacceptable.”

“What is unacceptable? The fact that I am the one woman capable of resisting your seduction, or the knowledge that you could make a fortune if only I would cooperate?”

It was a familiar accusation.

Juliet’s ability to sense the magical properties of objects, as well as people, was a rare talent that would be priceless to any vampire, and Victor had never hidden his desire for such a power. Why should he? Never again would he have to fear an enemy attempting to plot his early demise with a hidden spell. Or even accidentally stumbling into a trap. Juliet would always be able to warn him of the looming danger.

And, of course, there was the indisputable knowledge that her talent was worth a fortune.

The black-market trade for magical artifacts was a profitable, cutthroat business that kept any number of demons and humans living in luxury. Including the mage, Lord Hawthorne.

Bastard.

He caught and held her accusing gaze. “My wealth is more than sufficient, although I have never made it secret that I covet your talent. A vampire’s one weakness has always been magic. With you at my side I would be all but invincible.”

Her chin tilted. “Which is only one of many reasons that I will never allow myself to be bound to you.”

He narrowed his gaze in sudden annoyance. “And yet you willingly offer yourself to Hawthorne. An arrogant ass—”

“You should recognize an arrogant ass easily enough. You need only look in a mirror,” she rudely interrupted, her chin stuck at a stubborn angle. “Ah, but wait. You have no reflection, do you, vampire?”

“And a mage,” Victor hissed, ignoring her insult.

“My mother was a witch.”

“An unfortunate circumstance I am willing to overlook.”

The emerald eyes flashed with fury as Juliet thrust her way past him, headed across the terrace.

“How vastly considerate of you, my lord.”

With blinding speed he was behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and jerking her back against his chest. Growling deep in his throat, Victor buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“I can be much more than merely considerate, sweet Juliet. I will give you whatever you desire…” His body stiffened in shock. “Bloody hell, why do you smell of gargoyle?”

Juliet resisted the urge to struggle against Victor’s restraining arms.

Despite the fact that she appeared to be a mere debutante among humans, she was in fact over a century old, and she had learned long ago that battling against a predator only inflamed his instincts.

And the Marquis DeRosa was very much a predator.

A beautiful, exotic, sensually lethal predator.

Holding herself rigid, she pretended indifference to the thrilling pleasure of his unyielding arms wrapped around her and the brush of his lips against her skin. Not that she was foolish enough to believe Victor was unaware of her thundering heart and the searing excitement that coiled through the pit of her stomach. The aggravating demon was always swift to pounce on her uncontrollable reaction to his potent masculinity.

“For God’s sake, stop sniffing me,” she gritted. “It is rude.”

He nipped at her neck, his fangs scraping her sensitive skin.

“Tell me where you came into contact with a gargoyle.”

She closed her eyes, fiercely attempting to ignore the jolt of need searing through her.

She had desired Victor from the moment she had caught sight of him across a crowded ballroom. Utterly and desperately. But she was not a fool.

Women who were stupid enough to fall victim to a vampire’s seduction were doomed to become mere ruins of their former selves.

“I am not your property, Marquis DeRosa, and I do not have to tell you anything,” she hissed.

“Property? No. But you are mine and if you refuse to tell me, then I will simply ask the Guild—”

With a sudden gasp, Juliet was turning in his arms, her expression one of horror. “No.”

His brows lowered, the silver eyes studying her with an unnerving intensity. “You have not allowed that foolishly soft heart of yours to put you in danger, have you?”

“Of course not.”

He cupped her chin in a slender hand, his beautiful features tightening with a dangerous impatience.

“Juliet.”

She blew out a resigned sigh. The clan chief rarely exposed his formidable power in her presence, but when he did, she was wise enough to avoid trouble.

“A few months ago I discovered a gargoyle in Justin’s attics.”

“Did you?” The silver eyes narrowed. “Hawthorne must have an object of great worth to go to the expense and bother of negotiating with the Guild to provide protection for his mansion.”

“This particular gargoyle does not happen to belong to the Guild.”

“Impossible. He would not be allowed to hire out his services unless he was a member.”

Juliet grimaced. When she had first stumbled across the gargoyle, she hadn’t known what to think of the odd little creature.

Like most other gargoyles, Levet possessed grotesque features and a thick gray hide that turned to stone during the day. He also had a long tail he kept faithfully polished and a thick French accent.

Unlike most of his terrifying brethren, however, Levet was barely knee high, with delicate fairy wings that shimmered with brilliant blues and crimsons and were veined with gold. Even worse, his magic was unpredictable at best and inclined to cause more trouble than it was worth.