A Very Levet Christmas Read online

  His infamous control, however, was being tested to the limit by the constant flow of guests who insisted on intruding into his private lair.

  Every instinct inside him was on full, lethal alert.

  Not surprising, of course, considering his mate was still weakened from childbirth and his five newborn babes were utterly dependent on him for protection. But Salvatore knew there was more to his unease than the basic need to defend his family.

  There was a persistent sense of approaching danger he couldn’t shake.

  Cristo.

  If it weren’t imperative that the pack leaders be allowed to pay their respects to his children, he’d have ripped out the throat of the first person to try and get through the door. Unfortunately, the Were had waited far too long for this day for him to simply turn them away.

  Trying his best to contain his rabid wolf, Salvatore stood guard at the entrance to the hallway that led to his private rooms.

  He’d allowed the guests to ooh and aah over Harley and the babies; now they could drink the champagne he’d provided by the crateful. In another twenty minutes he intended to kick their furry asses out of his house.

  Duty done.

  His dark, restless gaze searched the crowd, landing on the massive cur who’d just entered the elegant living room that Harley had decorated in soft shades of peach and cream.

  Salvatore touched the knot of his silver tie that had been selected to match the buttons on his blue Gucci suit. It was a silent signal to his chief of security that he could approach.

  Obediently, Hess skirted the edge of the crowd, his gaze carefully lowered. The room was filled with a bunch of overly aggressive Weres who were always looking for a fight. The cur knew better than to accidentally offer a challenge.

  Hess halted at Salvatore’s side, his head lowered in respect.

  “Well?” Salvatore demanded, his voice pitched so it wouldn’t carry through the noisy room.

  He hadn’t remained king by sharing the ins and outs of his private security with a group of potential rivals for the throne.

  “The perimeters are secure,” Hess assured him.

  “You’ve doubled the guards?”

  It was at least the tenth time he’d asked the question since the birth of his children, but Hess nodded without rolling his eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “Any troubles?”

  Hess curled back his lips to reveal his enlarged canines. “That damned gargoyle tried to sneak past me.”

  “Levet?” Salvatore’s brows snapped together. What the hell was that pest doing here? “You didn’t let him pass, did you?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Good.” Salvatore’s gaze continued to sweep the room; he glared at any guest who strayed too close. “Harley might be ridiculously fond of the annoying creature, but I’ll be damned if I’ll allow him near her or the babies. The idiot would probably blow up the lair trying to demonstrate some new magic trick.”

  “He’s a menace,” Hess readily agreed.

  Salvatore glanced over his shoulder, making sure the door to his mate’s room was closed.

  “Of course, it might be best if you didn’t mention Levet’s attempt to visit,” he said. His mate could be unreasonable when he tried to . . . shield her for her own good. She might not understand his need to protect her when she was not at full strength. “Harley has far too soft of a heart for her own good.”

  “You can trust me,” Hess murmured.

  “Always.” Salvatore briefly laid his hand on Hess’s shoulder. This cur had been his most trusted soldier for years. “Return to your post.”

  Waiting for Hess to head out of the room, Salvatore counted to ten before he turned to make his way down the hallway.

  Dammit. All he wanted was to be alone with Harley and their babies.

  Was that really so much to ask?

  Silently slipping into the darkened room, Salvatore closed the door behind him and headed toward the large crib where five tiny babies slept in a tangled pile. Unlike human babes, Weres needed the heat and comfort of their pack. They were also far stronger than mortals, although that didn’t halt Salvatore’s sharp stab of fear as he gazed down at the tiny creatures.

  Madre di Dio. They were so small . . . so fragile....

  What if he couldn’t protect them?

  What if his best efforts weren’t enough?

  The constant worry gnawed at him, twisting his gut with a fear he couldn’t shake.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Salvatore instantly cleared his expression as he turned to head toward the large bed set in the middle of the room.

  “Everything is perfect,” he assured his beautiful mate, climbing on the bed to stretch out next to her slender form.

  She turned on her side to face him, her blond hair shimmering in the moonlight. Salvatore’s heart clenched with a love that threatened to overwhelm him.

  This female . . .

  She was the very reason he existed.

  “I thought I heard Hess,” she said, her voice husky with weariness. “You only call for him when there’s trouble.”

  With tender care, Salvatore tugged his mate into his arms, his cheek resting on top of her head.

  “I’ve called in all of my soldiers to guard the lair,” he confessed.

  He felt her stiffen.

  “All of them?” she demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you expecting trouble?”

  He smiled wryly. “I’m always expecting trouble.”

  Harley tilted back her head, studying him with a worried expression. “Salvatore, you’re starting to frighten me. Have there been threats against the babies?”

  “No, nothing,” he hastily reassured her, his arms tightening around her slender frame. Despite Harley’s tough childhood, she possessed a basic belief in the goodness of others. He wasn’t going to allow his cynical nature to destroy that. “I might be . . . a bit overprotective.”

  “A bit?” She gave a rueful laugh. “You had the doctor cavity-searched before you let him into the house.”

  “You are my life,” he said with simple honesty. “And those babies—”

  “Are our future,” she finished as the words became choked in his throat.

  He pressed his lips to her satin tangle of hair. “The future for all our people.”

  She snuggled closer, her lashes drifting downward. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “You won’t try to keep away the people I love.”

  Salvatore grimaced, suspecting that the stupid gargoyle might be on the list of people who Harley loved.

  “Rest, cara,” he murmured softly, wondering just how much trouble he was going to be in when she woke.

  Chapter 2

  Levet landed in the snow with a painful thud.

  Sacrebleu.

  He hated when he was popped from one place to another.

  It was bad enough when Yannah or her mother, Siljar, thought they could yank him through space as if he were a puppet on their strings. But to have a complete stranger do it. Really. He was going to have a stern word with the Christmas Angel Union.

  He muttered a curse as he rose to his feet, rubbing his tender derriere and checking to make sure the wand still clutched in his hand wasn’t broken. Only then did he glance around the frozen landscape.

  It didn’t look much different from where he’d been standing just a few seconds before.

  Lots of snow. Barren fields. Trees. An abandoned farmhouse along a narrow road. And off to his left the river sluggishly flowed toward the south.

  Still trying to get his bearings, Levet stiffened as he caught the unmistakable stench of pure-blood Were. Damon. The wolf intent on challenging Salvatore and putting the pups at risk.

  He turned to watch a man stride out of the trees, his large, muscular body covered in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt.

  Levet shivered. Wolves were hot-blooded creatures, but . . .
yow. Damon could at least have on a jacket to blend in with the humans.

  Not that he was the blending kind of guy.

  Towering well over six feet, the stranger had clipped his dark hair close to his head, emphasizing the stark perfection of his male features. His skin was a rich, golden brown that created a striking contrast to the pale, champagne color of his eyes.

  He was clearly one of those dark, disgustingly gorgeous men who made women flutter with excitement. It was vastly unfair as far as Levet was concerned. Why did a demon who possessed the savage strength of a werewolf also need such compelling beauty?

  It was one of those philosophical questions that had no answer.

  Like why Firefly had been canceled after just one season.

  At the moment, however, Levet was far more interested in the grim purpose etched onto the lean features.

  This was a Were on a mission.

  A mission that Levet was somehow expected to prevent.

  Perfect.

  Doing his best to ignore the shock waves of power that surrounded the approaching Were, not to mention the ginormous sword strapped to his back and two guns holstered at his hips, Levet moved to stand directly in his path.

  Sacrebleu. The next time he discovered a Christmas angel trapped in a portal he was going to keep walking.

  The wolf continued forward, obviously distracted by his inner thoughts. It wasn’t until he was nearly on top of Levet that Damon came to a sharp halt, his brows snapping together in annoyance.

  “What the . . .” His gaze dismissively flicked over Levet’s tiny form. “Who are you?”

  Levet performed a deep bow. “Levet, Savior of the World and Knight in Shining Armor, at your service.”

  Damon scowled in disbelief. “Savior of the World?”

  “Oui, it is true.” Levet straightened, his chin tilting to a defensive angle. Really, the demon world was so ungrateful. Had he not defeated the Dark Lord and saved the world from disaster? His name should be emblazoned in the stars. Or at least given front page in the Demon Daily Express. “Surely you have heard of my great deeds?”

  The Were looked predictably unimpressed. “Get out of my path, fairy. I have no time for drunken idiots.”

  Levet sucked in a horrified breath. “Fairy? Are you blind?” He puffed out his chest. “I am a gargoyle.”

  “Nice try, fairy,” the man scoffed. “But I’ve met my share of gargoyles. You’re way too small.”

  Levet gave a flick of his wings. “I might be a tad more . . . petite than some, but that doesn’t make me any less a gargoyle.”

  “Fine. I don’t care if you’re a cross-eyed pixie.” Damon allowed his eyes to glow with the power of his wolf, the air suddenly heating. “Get out of my way or die.”

  “Zut. Are all dogs foul-tempered?” Levet gave a shake of his head. “It must be that nasty fur.”

  “Enough.”

  Damon moved to circle around Levet, giving a hiss of impatience when Levet moved to once again block his path.

  “Wait.”

  The champagne eyes narrowed. “What?”

  A good question. Levet cleared his throat, not at all certain what he was supposed to do.

  “I cannot allow you to challenge Salvatore for the throne,” he at last muttered.

  Damon stiffened. “How the hell did you know?”

  “The Christmas angel warned me.”

  “The Christmas . . .” The Were cut off his words, the temperature rising along with his temper. “Shit. I don’t have time for this.”

  Levet held up his hands as the Were started forward, the magic wand sparkling in the moonlight. “Stop,” he tried to command. “I do not particularly like Salvatore.” Levet grimaced, recalling how he’d been turned away as if he weren’t Harley’s bestie. “Especially not tonight. He’s a rude beast. But he has very young pups who need his protection.”

  A shadow seemed to pass over the Were’s face. “Yes. It’s a pity about the pups.”

  “Pity?” What did that mean? Was he ruthless enough to . . . Levet made a sound of distress. He couldn’t allow his mind to form the hideous thought. “Non, I will not allow you to harm them.”

  Damon appeared genuinely startled by Levet’s shrill words, but before he could respond Levet rushed forward.

  He didn’t actually have a plan.

  The wolf was twice his size and strong enough to rip Levet into itty bitty pieces. But he had to do something. There was no way he was going to allow those babies to be in danger.

  In the end he settled for taking wild swings at the Were. Unfortunately he missed the Were’s nuts as Damon grabbed Levet’s horn to try and hold him back, although Levet did manage to hit Damon on the leg with his wand.

  There was a moment of profound silence. As if the entire world had come to a sudden halt. Then, without warning they were surrounded by a choking blackness that sucked them into a portal.

  Damon roared in fury as he felt himself being catapulted through the darkness.

  Dammit. He’d waited all his life for this moment.

  He’d trained. He’d planned. He’d sacrificed.

  Damon grimaced, inwardly accepting that the words didn’t ring entirely true.

  Oh, he had trained and planned and sacrificed. But he hadn’t waited for this moment.

  In all honesty, he’d dreaded this moment.

  He didn’t want to be in the frozen wilds of America, stalking a man he’d once admired, so he could challenge him to a duel.

  But if Damon was nothing else, he was a wolf who understood the meaning of duty.

  It’d been drilled into him from the second he’d been born.

  Now the damned gargoyle had somehow managed to tumble them into a portal that led to God only knew where.

  Hoping the stunted demon hadn’t managed to dump them into the pits of hell, Damon felt a jolt as he landed on a hard stone floor.

  Slowly the black mist began to dissipate, allowing Damon to view his surroundings with a wary gaze.

  His hand instinctively gripped the holster of his gun as he took in the decrepit hovel, his gut twisting at the sight of the faded wooden walls and the rough table and chairs that were the only furnishings in the cramped cabin. On one side of the room was a large, stone fireplace and on the other was a rudimentary sink and wooden shelves.

  It wasn’t the pits of hell, but it was close enough.

  Turning his head, he glared at the tiny demon at his side.

  “What did you do?” he snapped, his wolf prowling restlessly just beneath his skin.

  The gargoyle gave a nervous flap of his wings. “I am not quite certain.”

  A low growl rumbled in Damon’s chest, and his hand reached toward the creature. “You little bastard—”

  “Hey, it was the wand. I swear,” Levet squeaked, dancing out of reach. His snout wrinkled as he took in the room that was not only shabby, but was palpably barren of the small touches that made a house a home. There were no pictures. No hand-knitted rugs. No freshly baked cookies on the counter. “Where are we?”

  A sick combination of hate and regret made Damon clench his teeth. “My mother’s lair.”

  “Oh.” The gargoyle seemed to brighten at the confession. Which only proved just how stupid the pest truly was. “Then that is not so bad.”

  “Bad?” Damon gave a sharp bark of humorless laughter. “It’s impossible.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was destroyed thirty years ago.”

  The gargoyle frowned in confusion. “Who destroyed it?”

  Damon fought back the memories of finding the charred remnants of his mother in the middle of the room, a dented crown beside the ashes, before he had set the place on fire and walked out the door forever.

  “I did.”

  Levet widened his eyes, but before he could push Damon over the edge with obnoxious questions there was a strange blurring of their surroundings. Damon felt light-headed, disoriented.

  A sensation that was only int
ensified as the blurring cleared to reveal Damon’s mother seated in a chair next to the fireplace, her dark gaze never wavering from the door.

  “Shit,” Damon breathed in shock, taking in the sight of the too-slender female with gray hair pulled into a stern knot on the back of her head and a face lined with bitterness.

  Rosina had once been a great beauty. A queen among her people. But the disappointments in her life had stolen her looks, her crown, and eventually her very sanity.

  Desperately trying to convince himself this was no more than an illusion created by the gargoyle, Damon barely noticed when the door to the cabin was thrust open. Not until Levet gave a startled gasp.

  “Is that you?”

  Damon’s gaze jerked to the young, dark-haired male entering the cabin, his body just beginning to fill out with muscles and his face caught between boy and man.

  “My God,” Damon growled, thoroughly unnerved. “What have you done?”

  The words had barely left his lips when Damon felt an odd tug deep inside him, as if something was compelling him forward. He grunted, trying to resist the bizarre sensation, but it was hopeless.

  One second he was standing next to the gargoyle, and the next he was yanked out of his body and thrust into the mind of the young man closing the door of the cabin.

  Damon fought against the black magic that the gargoyle had cast, but he was helpless to do more than relive the unwelcome memory as his mother rose to her feet and moved forward with a furious expression.

  “Where have you been?” the female wolf demanded, her dark eyes filled with a hectic fire.

  Damon’s younger self came to a halt near the table, his heart thundering as he tried to prepare for the inevitable confrontation.

  His mother had grown increasingly unstable over the past few years, her violent outbursts isolating her from the nearby pack.

  “Out running,” he murmured.

  “Liar,” Rosina growled. “You were with that bitch.”

  Damon’s younger body stiffened in outrage. His loyalty to his mother never wavered, but he wouldn’t tolerate any insult to his beloved Gia.

  The slender, dark-eyed female was the only saving grace in Damon’s dark, brutal existence.