“No, not human,” he murmured, his gray eyes lifting to regard her with what Anna hoped was curiosity and not hunger.
“Good grief,” Darcy muttered, sending Anna a rueful smile. “Anna, this is Levet. Levet, Anna Randal.”
Anna remained speechless as the creature circled around her, sniffing at her jeans and occasionally poking her with a stubby claw.
“What are you?” he demanded as he came to a halt in front of her, his hands planted on his hips, his long tail twitching in frustration.
“Umm, Darcy?” Anna whispered, caught between disbelief and a startling urge to laugh.
“Levet, please stop sniffing my guest,” Darcy commanded. “It’s not polite.”
The gargoyle made a rude noise. “You said that scratching my privates in public wasn’t polite. Now I cannot even sniff the guests? You are such a buzz-kiss.”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Buzz-kill, Levet. The word is buzz-kill.”
“Whatever.” Levet returned his attention to Anna. “You smell like a fairy, but…”
“A fairy?” Anna took a startled step backward. She would know if she was a fairy. Wouldn’t she? “I don’t think so.”
“Who were your parents?” Levet demanded.
“I don’t know. I was raised in an orphanage until my aunt took me in.”
“So one of them could have been a fairy?”
“I…suppose.”
Levet tapped his foot, clearly not satisfied with her grudging concession. “There is something else. Something I can’t put my toe upon.”
“Finger, Levet,” Darcy corrected wearily.
Levet ignored the werewolf as he moved forward, intent on discovering the mystery of Anna’s heritage.
“Take a step closer to her, gargoyle, and I’ll have you mounted on my wall,” a cold male voice warned from the doorway.
Anna had no need to turn. Her skin was already prickling with awareness and her heart jolting into overdrive.
It couldn’t be anyone but Cezar.
Foolishly undaunted, the gargoyle stuck out his tongue and astonishingly sent the looming vampire a raspberry.
“I hear that’s the only way you can mount these days…” His strange words had barely left his lips when Cezar was across the floor with the point of a dagger pressed to his throat. “Eek.”
“You have any other charming revelations to make, gargoyle?” Cezar growled.
“Ah, no.” The wings fluttered at a frantic pace. “Not a one.”
“Good choice.”
With fluid speed Cezar straightened, the dagger tucked away so swiftly that Anna couldn’t follow the motion.
Not that she was paying attention to the dagger.
She was far too busy reminding herself of the need to breathe as her gaze traveled over the loose white shirt that was half unbuttoned, revealing a generous amount of his smooth chest, and the black jeans that clung to his butt with a tasty perfection. His dark hair was damp, the top layer pulled back with a strip of leather and the rest falling about his broad shoulders.
The elegant, sophisticated gentleman had been transformed into a dark, lean predator. A hunter who was poised and ready to attack.
Strolling into the kitchen, Styx glanced around with a narrowed gaze, easily sensing the tension in the room.