Styx paused. As a rule vampires rarely discussed their heritage with others. It wasn't precisely a secret, but most demons were by nature secretive.
In this moment, however, he was far more concerned about reassuring Darcy that neither his touch nor his bite would turn her into a vampire.
"It only occurs when a vampire drains a human completely," he confessed. "Most die, of course, but on rare occasions a human will share enough of the vampire's essence to rise again. There is no way to know which human will survive and which will perish."
"So you were dead?"
"Quite dead."
Her brow furrowed as she attempted to accept the difficult truth. "And now?"
"Now?" He shrugged. "I live."
"For all eternity?"
He smiled. "There are never any guarantees."
She gave a small nod, silently mulling over his words. "And what about werewolves? How are they made?"
Styx frowned. Her interest in the demons that were desperate to get their hands on her was understandable, but he didn't care for the thought of her brooding on the undoubtedly handsome Salvatore.
"There are true werewolves, or purebloods, as they prefer to be called," he grudgingly revealed. "They are born to a mated pair of Weres and are very rare. Then there are curs. They are humans who have been infected by a werewolf and managed to survive the attack. They are far less powerful than purebloods and have little control over their instincts."
Darcy abruptly sat on the edge of the bed. "So there are vampires and werewolves just roaming around everywhere?"
Styx resisted the urge to join her on the bed. As difficult as it might be to admit, he was not at all certain he could depend on his once flawless control.
It was downright embarrassing.
"Vampires and werewolves and a great number of other demons," he muttered without thinking.
"How many other demons?"
"Hundreds."
There was a sharp intake of breath as she regarded him with disbelief. "How come no one knows?"
Realizing that he wasn't being precisely comforting, Styx grimaced. Maybe the damn gargoyle was right. He had a great deal to learn when it came to having a young woman beneath his roof.
"Vampires are capable of altering the memories of humans they encounter, and most demons can hide their presence entirely." He studied her intently. "Besides, most mortals would rather convince themselves that the supernatural world is nothing more than a figment of their imagination."
She smiled, but it held such a deep sadness that it made Styx's heart clench with an odd sensation.
"I suppose that's true enough," she whispered. "No one believed me. Even my psychiatrist refused to accept that I was truly different. Not even when I showed him how swiftly I healed. He swore it was no more than a parlor trick that I had concocted to draw attention to myself. He said it was a simple need for self-validation."
Styx heaved a sigh. Well, there was nothing like taking a bad situation and making it worse. Perhaps it was time to retreat and regroup.
"After you change will you join me in the kitchen for dinner?"
She slowly rose to her feet, making a visible effort to shrug off her dark mood. She even managed a faint smile.
"As long as I'm not on the menu."
"I have blood," he assured her as he moved forward. Unable to resist temptation, he lightly reached out to touch her cheek. "Although I will not apologize for drinking from you. Nor will I deny that I wish to hold you in my arms and taste you again." He touched her lips with his finger as she tried to interrupt. "But I will not force you. Not ever." He bent down to brush his lips across her mouth before turning and making his way to the door. "I will await you downstairs."
Darcy waited until Styx had silently closed the door before returning to the bathroom to exchange the towel for the robe.
Common sense warned her to stay in her rooms. When she was alone she could easily remember that Styx was a coldhearted vampire who fully intended to use her to suit his own purposes.