“Friend? Or lover?” he silkily demanded.
She blinked in shock at the abrupt question. “That is none of your concern.”
“Do not pretend ignorance. You have known from our first encounter that I would not tolerate another man in your bed.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs, her mouth dry. “You truly are an arrogant ass.”
“Tell me.” He grasped her shoulders, his eyes glittering with a fierce emotion. “Are you here to meet a lover?”
“No.” Grimly she forced herself to meet his stark, possessive gaze, her chin tilting. “If you must know, I am searching for Levet.”
“Levet?”
“The gargoyle. He is in trouble.”
His fingers eased their grip on her shoulders, but his expression remained hard with warning in the wash of moonlight.
“Bloody hell. You risked your life for a deformed gargoyle who is not even worthy of being a part of his Guild?”
She stiffened. “There happen to be many of us who are unworthy to belong to a Guild or a clan or a coven, my lord. That does not mean we cannot possess friends who care for us.”
“Juliet—”
Victor’s words were brought to a sharp halt as a distinct sizzle flared through the air and then, without warning, Juliet felt herself being hauled to the ground. Victor covered her with his body just as a strike of lightning hit a building on the other side of the quay.
She heard the sound of distant shouts of alarm as humans rushed away from the unexpected shower of brick and glass, but with fluid speed, Victor was on his feet and scooping Juliet in his arms as he headed into the nearest warehouse.
There was the overwhelming stench of damp wool and smoke from the oil lanterns as Victor flowed past the stacked crates to the back of the long room, his movements silent and swift. Halting next to the heavy wooden doors, Victor set her gently on her feet and scanned their surroundings for potential threats.
“Is it pixies?” Juliet demanded, tugging down her loose shirt. Thank God she had possessed the sense to trade her corset and skirts for more suitable garments.
Victor tossed aside his cloak and removed his elegant jacket and waistcoat, carelessly dropping the expensive, but restrictive, clothing on the filthy floor.
“Why would you suspect pixies?” he demanded.
“Levet claimed that they attract lightning.”
“It is true a nest might occasionally draw upon the energy of a storm to enhance their magic, but they are not capable of creating lightning from a clear sky.”
Juliet grimaced. Of course it could not be a nest of harmless pixies.
“Then what creature is capable?”
“A mage.” He sent a questioning glance in her direction. “Or witch.”
She paused, then gave a decisive shake of her head. “No. There have been no spells cast. At least none in this neighborhood.”
“No magical objects?”
“Nothing with the power to—”
Again they were interrupted by that peculiar prickling in the air followed by a violent shake of the warehouse, as if the lightning had struck the slate roof.
Yanking her against his hard body, Victor wrapped his arms around her, his frigid energy pulsing through the warehouse.
“Damn. We must get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving until I have found Levet.”