"Yes."
Painfully blunt.
"Even though you don't know what he wants from me?" she charged, with a frown. "He might want to sacrifice me for some horrible ritual. Or he might have decided I would make a tasty meal."
Styx turned to pace toward the window, then pulled aside the heavy shutters to reveal that night had already fallen. Of course—it was December in Illinois. The sun barely rose before it was headed down again.
Still, how long had she been asleep?
"Salvatore would not need to go to such effort for a mere sacrifice, or even a meal," he at last said in a low tone. "I believe he wants you alive."
"You believe?" Darcy made a rude noise. Karma or not she wasn't going to meekly allow herself to be handed over to a werewolf (if he really was a werewolf) without an argument. "I can't tell you how comforting that is. My tiny life might not be important to you, but I assure you that it's very important to me." She grabbed a pillow and tossed it at his back. With impossible speed he turned and snatched the pillow before it could touch him. Her throat went dry. Oh yeah, he was something other than human. "Please," she whispered, "I want to go home."
His brows drew together, almost as if he was bothered by her soft plea. "Darcy, it would not be safe. If you leave this estate, the Weres will have you captured before you can ever return to your home. It is only my protection that—"
The dark warning was cut off as the sound of a shrill, commanding voice floated through the door. It was a voice that held a thick accent and a healthy dose of French disdain.
"Out of my way you dolt. Can you not see that I am here to bring succor to the prisoner?"
Styx glanced toward the door, his expression one of disbelief.
Cripes, what was coming that could shock the master of all vampires?
"By the gods, what is he doing here?" Styx breathed.
"Who is it?" she demanded.
"Levet." His gaze shifted back to her. "Prepare yourself, angel."
She tugged the blanket up to her nose. As if that could somehow protect her. "Is he dangerous?"
"Only to your sanity."
Sanity?
"Is he human?"
"No, he is a gargoyle."
Her heart gave a sharp squeeze. Vampires, werewolves, and now gargoyles?
"A . . . what?"
"Do not fear. He is not at all the fearsome beast you would expect. He can hardly be called a demon at all."
She didn't know what that was supposed to mean. Well, not until the door swung open and a tiny, gray creature waddled into the room carrying a large tray.
He certainly possessed grotesque features with small horns and a long tail twitching behind him. But he couldn't have been over three feet tall, and the wings on his back were gossamer thin and beautifully patterned with vibrant color.
Moving across the room, he offered the scowling vampire a loud sniff. "At last. I don't mean to criticize your staff, Styx, but I think they might be a few bricks shy of a full load, if you know what I mean. They attempted to halt me. Moi."
Styx rounded the bed to glare down at the tiny demon. "I requested that I not be disturbed. They were only following my directions."
"Disturbed? As if I could be a disturbance." Levet turned his head toward the silent Darcy. A stab of astonishment raced through her. Behind those gray eyes she could detect a gentle soul. She was never wrong. "Ah, she is as beautiful as Viper claimed. And so young." The gargoyle gave a click of his tongue as he neared the bed and placed the tray next to her. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Styx. Here you are, mignon. A fresh salad and fruit."
Her stomach rumbled in gratitude. She was starving and the food looked perfect.
"Thank you." She offered a smile as she reached for a slice of apple.