Taken By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #7.25)(6)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

“Non, do not say such terrible things. We all do what we must to survive.”

Juliet heaved a sigh. She was painfully acquainted with the sacrifices that survival demanded.

“Yes, I suppose that is true enough.”

Levet tilted his head to the side, regarding her with a narrowed gaze.

“There is something troubling you, ma belle.”

Juliet turned her head to glance out the window, more to hide her revealing expression than to admire the view of Hyde Park slumbering beneath the silver moonlight.

“Nothing more than ennui.”

“Ennui? But only a few days ago you were telling me how delighted you were that the Season was at last under way.”

Of course she had been delighted. She had told herself that the restless dissatisfaction that had plagued her throughout the long winter would be cured by the return of society to the city.

It was only when Victor had strolled into Lord Treadwell’s ballroom that she accepted her discontent had nothing to do with the lack of society and everything to do with the breathtakingly beautiful demon.

The knowledge was galling.

And something she did not intend to share.

“I hoped that the return of society to London would provide a distraction,” she said, her voice determinedly light. “Foolish, of course. ’Tis the same tedious balls, with the same tedious guests, with the same tedious gossip.”

“But we adore gossip, do we not?”

“Only when it is interesting.” Juliet turned back to her companion, her fingers fidgeting with a satin ribbon threaded through the bodice of her peach muslin gown. “Thus far I have heard nothing more fascinating than that Lord Maywood’s youngest daughter was quietly removed from London after she attempted to elope with a blatant fortune hunter and that there has been an odd rash of lightning that people claim is coming from clear blue skies. One burned down a warehouse near the docks.”

Levet’s tail stiffened, as if startled by her inconsequential chatter.

“Lightning, you say? At the docks?”

“And why would you be interested in strange bolts of lightning?”

A smile touched the ugly gray face. “A nest of pixies will often attract lightning. Perhaps they have settled near the Thames.”

“You have a fondness for pixies?”

The gargoyle touched his fingers to his lips in a gesture of appreciation.

“But of course. The females are très désireuses and possess a remarkable ability to please a gargoyle.”

With a sharp movement Juliet was on her feet, an odd ache clenching her heart.

“For heaven’s sake, are all males so predictable?”

Levet gave a helpless lift of his hands. “Oui.”

“Pathetic.”

“Ma belle, please tell me what has upset you. I know it cannot be the lack of amusing scandal.” Levet waddled forward, his gray eyes troubled. “Juliet?”

She sucked in a deep breath, knowing the tiny creature would not leave her in peace until she had confessed the truth.

“The Marquis DeRosa has returned to London.”

“By my father’s stone balls.” Levet’s wings snapped in agitation, the sudden breeze sending dust flying through the air. “Well, there is no need to ask why he is here. The cold-hearted sod will not be satisfied until he has made you one of his sycophants.”

That was precisely what Juliet feared.

And why she fought so hard against her acute awareness of his sensuality.

“Hell will freeze over first,” she muttered.

Levet reached up to grasp her hand, the blatant concern in his expression sending a chill down her spine.

“Be careful, ma belle. He is more dangerous than you could ever imagine.”

“What would you have me do? I requested that Justin travel away from England, but he is too occupied with his negotiations with Yiant to leave London. I suppose I could go on my own, but…”

“Non, Juliet.” Levet’s tone was horrified. “For all of Hawthorne’s failings, and they are varied and numerous, he does provide some protection from those creatures who would do whatever necessary to claim you and your powers.”

She paced the cramped space that had been cleared by the gargoyle, not for the first time resenting her dependency on the mage.

If only—

Juliet abruptly crushed the worthless yearning.

Her parents were dead. Nothing could alter the grim fact.

“I am not entirely helpless,” she gritted.

“Not helpless, but you will never be ruthless enough to survive alone in the demon world, remerciez un dieu.”

She ignored the painful truth of his words. “Perhaps Yiant will accept the Damanica as a proper token and offer Justin the herbs he needs. He will have no reason to linger in London once he has his potion.”

“I would not be so certain.”

Juliet halted her pacing to regard the gargoyle with a puzzled frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It is rumored that Hawthorne has at last convinced Madame Andreas to become his mistress.”

Juliet snorted. “If you mean to shock me, Levet, you are wide of the mark. Justin always has one mistress or another. He will easily find another in the West Indies or Egypt or the Americas.”

“Madame Andreas is not just another mistress, Juliet, she is considered the most beautiful woman in London,” Levet corrected. “Even DeRosa has been seen attempting to court her favors.”

A sharp, savage pain jabbed through her heart at the mere thought of Victor being beguiled by the golden-haired, blue-eyed, voluptuous beauty. Which was utterly absurd. From the moment she had arrived in London she had heard whispers of the Marquis DeRosa’s numerous mistresses, and had seen with her own eyes how the women flocked to be at his side.

Besides, it was common knowledge among the demon world that vampires were sexually insatiable. Until they mated it was not at all unusual for them to insist on a dozen or more lovers.

Damn Victor to the fiery pits of hell.

“Has he? Well, I hope…”

“Oui?”

“I hope he chokes on her,” Juliet snapped.

Levet’s lumpy brow furrowed as he regarded her in sudden dismay. “Did I make a middle of it?”

“Middle?” It took her a moment to realize what the gargoyle was saying. “Muddle. A muddle of it.”

He gave a dismissive shrug. “Middle, muddle. Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all.” Juliet felt her brittle composure begin to falter. “If you will excuse me, I believe I will retire for the night.”