“Well, this is my duty as a…”
“Yes?”
She yanked her arm from his grasp. “As a mongrel, I suppose.”
His brows snapped together at her brittle tone, but before he could continue his lecture, she was moving down the tunnel, refusing to halt until she reached the heavy metal door that blocked the passage.
She pressed a hand to the wall of the tunnel, knowing better than to actually touch the door until she was certain there were no nasty surprises. Her brow pleated with concentration. Unlike full-blooded demons, she did not possess finely tuned senses that allowed her to easily determine every nuance of her surroundings.
Which only meant she had to work harder, she grimly told herself.
Ignoring the annoyed vampire hovering protectively at her shoulder, Juliet pushed out with her senses, nearly going to her knees at the staggering odor of unwashed bodies and barely leashed panic.
Her every instinct urged her to turn around and flee, just as it had all those years ago when she had been in the bowels of the slave ship. Hardly unexpected. No creature with the least amount of sense would be eager to confront whatever was behind the door.
But now, as then, she called on the thought of her parents. Her fierce, fearless mother who defied her own coven to be with the imp she loved. Her impulsive, charming father with his ready laugh and open delight in his only child.
They believed in her, never allowing her to accept she was less because she was a mere mongrel.
Tonight she would make them proud.
“There are more than just humans,” she muttered.
“Sprites,” Victor determined with annoying ease. “A few nymphs.”
“Gargoyle?”
“Not mixed among the others.”
She snapped her gaze to his wary face. “But Levet is here?”
His lips thinned; he was no doubt regretting his promise he would never lie to her.
“Yes.”
Relief surged through her. “Thank God.”
“No god would be so cruel,” he drawled.
She ignored Victor’s callous indifference toward her friend. Vampires considered any demon not a vampire as a lesser demon. Even werewolves.
“First we must release the captives,” she decided.
Victor scowled. “Juliet, you do realize this might very well be a trap?”
“Do you sense—”
“I do not need to sense danger to know it is there.”
“I am doing this with or without you, Victor.”
The silver eyes flashed with mocking amusement. “Ah, when you have need of me I am Victor, eh, little one?”
She clenched her teeth, belatedly realizing she had indeed allowed his name to slip. It was a luxury she never indulged in. Not when she needed the formality to remind herself that Victor was a forbidden temptation. Just as she pretended she did not notice the manner in which his silk shirt clung to the chiseled muscles of his chest, or how precisely his pantaloons outlined the hard lines of his legs…
“I have several other names if you prefer,” she muttered.
With an impatient sound, Victor captured her face in his hands and leaned down to steal a kiss that jolted through her with stunning force.