Darcy lifted her head to stare at her captor. He had lifted himself from the bed and was standing so motionless that he might have been a mannequin.
Of course, his stillness wasn't the only unnatural thing about him.
The lean face was far too perfect. The wide brow, the deep-set black eyes surrounded by thick lashes, the sensually curved lips, the chiseled cheekbones and noble thrust of his nose. It reminded her of a polished Aztec mask. Certainly, no human had ever been that beautiful.
And what man who wasn't a rabid weight lifter or addicted to steroids could possibly possess that body?
That wasn't even to mention the blue-black hair that was intricately braided with bronze and turquoise ornaments that fell well past his waist.
He was an exotic fantasy. Just what a woman would expect for a vampire.
Or a raving lunatic.
Whichever.
Darcy tightened her fingers on the blanket and swallowed past the lump in her throat. She didn't have a clue what was going through his mind as he stared at her with that unnerving intensity.
And to be honest, it was . . . yeah, freaking her out.
"You haven't told me why I'm here," she charged. "Or even your name."
He blinked. As if he was waking from a deep sleep.
"Styx."
"Styx? Your name is Styx?"
"Yes."
Darcy grimaced. It wasn't a name to inspire warm, fuzzy feelings. But of course, he wasn't really a man to inspire anything fuzzy.
Now warm . . . hoobah.
He was fierce, terrifying, and wickedly handsome.
Too handsome with his unbuttoned shirt flapping open to reveal the perfection of his smooth, broad chest and the strange tattoo of a dragon that glittered with an odd metallic quality.
Gripes, it was probably best he was no longer on the bed with her.
It was hard to have boyfriends when you were continually worrying about accidentally hurting them. Or at the very least revealing you weren't entirely normal.
Usually it didn't bother her. She kept her life full enough that she didn't need someone else to bring her a sense of meaning. But there were times when she was close to a man, and the scent and touch of him sharply reminded her of what she was missing.
"Why did you kidnap me?' she demanded.
Styx gave a lift of his shoulder. "1 must know what the Weres want with you."
"Why?"
A beat passed and Darcy thought he might refuse to answer her question. A real problem since she didn't imagine for a moment that she could force him. He might claim she had demon blood, but it wasn't demonic enough to take on a vampire.
That much she did know.
At last he heaved a sigh and met her searching gaze. "They have been creating difficulties for me."
Hmmm. That seemed . . . suicidal.
"You are in charge of the Weres?"