Darkness Everlasting Read online

  “And do you have to be a demon to do that?”

  He frowned. “You believe me?”

  She licked her lips, making Styx swallow a groan. “I believe you are something… supernatural. Is that the politically correct term?”

  Politically correct? Styx gave a shake of his head.

  The woman was the oddest creature he had ever stumbled across.

  “I prefer vampire, or demon, if you must.” He eyed her suspiciously. “You are… taking this better than I thought you would.”

  Her lashes lowered to hide the expressive green eyes. “Well, I’ve never been precisely normal myself.”

  “Not normal? What does that mean?” he demanded.

  “I… nothing.”

  “Tell me.” When she remained stubbornly silent he reached out to cup her chin in his hand. He intended to be severe. She was there to answer his questions. Unfortunately, her skin was as smooth as warm silk and he couldn’t entirely suppress the desire to lean close enough to smell her flowery scent. “Tell me, angel.”

  “Fine.” She sighed before lifting her gaze. “It will be easier to show you. Give me the knife.”

  He lifted his brows. Did she assume that he was so distracted by her fragile beauty that he would allow her to slit his throat?

  Granted he was distracted. Far more distracted than he had been in decades. But not death wish distracted.

  “You cannot kill me with it,” he warned.

  “I didn’t think I could.” Her head tilted to the side. “I suppose it takes the usual?”

  “The usual?”

  “You know, sunlight or a wooden stake through the heart?”

  “Or decapitation.”

  She grimaced. “Nice.”

  “What do you want with the knife?”

  “I don’t plan anything nearly so spectacular as you.” She held out her hand until he grudgingly placed the knife on her palm.

  Prepared to fend off a futile attack, Styx was once again outmaneuvered as she instead clutched the knife and before he could react made a small cut in the pad of her thumb.

  “Are you…” His furious words trailed away as he watched the sweet, human blood trail away to reveal the wound already closed. The cut was not deep, but no mortal could heal with such speed. He lifted his gaze to regard her with a searching curiosity. “You are not entirely human.”

  She didn’t appear particularly pleased. It was almost as if she would have been happier to be just another mortal among the millions.

  “I don’t know what I am. At least not beyond the fact that I’m a certifiable freak.” She gave a hunch of her shoulder. “You can’t imagine how many foster homes I’ve been kicked out of after they watched my little healing trick.”

  Styx took her hand to raise it to his nose. He breathed in deeply, but once again he could detect nothing but the scent of flowers and very human blood.

  “Do you possess any other unusual traits?”

  She tugged free her hand and clutched at the blanket that had begun to slip in a tantalizing fashion. But not before Styx had felt the wild leap of her pulse.

  He managed to hide his smile of satisfaction.

  Good. A vampire shouldn’t be alone in such a sharp, fierce awareness.

  “A nice way of putting it,” she muttered.

  His gaze swept over her small, heart-shaped face. “Being a vampire allows me to accept what humans would consider strange.”

  “Vampire.” She gave a tiny shiver and then her eyes abruptly narrowed. “Hey, wait, just how strange do you think I am?”

  He shrugged. “You haven’t yet answered my question. I can tell you nothing until I know more.”

  She bit her bottom lip before she grudgingly conceded the wisdom of his words. “I’m stronger and faster than most people.”

  “And?”

  “And… I’m not growing older.”

  That did surprise him. “What is your age?”

  “I’m thirty, but I look exactly as I did at eighteen. It might just be good genes, but I don’t think so.”

  Styx had to take her word. She looked young and innocent to him, but it was always difficult for a vampire to determine ages in humans. No doubt because time had no meaning to vampires.

  “You must possess at least some demon blood,” he conceded, with a frown. It was strange that he couldn’t detect any hint of mixed blood. Mongrels rarely possessed the full abilities of their demon ancestors, but a vampire could still detect that they were not precisely mortal. It troubled him that he could not. “What of your parents?”

  The pale features became smooth and unreadable. As if a mask had fallen into place.

  “I never knew them. I was fostered when I was a baby.”

  “You have no family?”

  “No.”

  Styx frowned. He was unfamiliar with this method of fostering among humans, but he assumed it must have something to do with her demon blood.

  He also assumed it was the reason that Salvatore was so determined to get his hands upon her.

  What he needed was a means of discovering precisely what sort of demon had spawned her, and what it could possibly mean to the Weres.

  —

  The abandoned hotel in south central Chicago was hardly the setting for royalty.

  The roof leaked, the windows were cracked, and there was a lingering stench of human waste that was enough to turn the stomach of the most hardened werewolf.

  On the plus side the mutant rats had disappeared only days after their arrival, and the few humans who were desperate enough to seek shelter among the ruins were easily frightened away by the “wild dogs” that roamed the narrow hallways.

  They had their privacy ensured, if not their comfort.

  Taking the largest of the rooms as his, Salvatore Giuliani had moved the heavy desk next to the window that overlooked the mean street below. The frigid air that managed to leak through the cracked panes didn’t especially bother him, and he was a wolf who kept a close watch on his back. No one would be allowed to sneak up on him.

  Across the room a large street map of Chicago was pinned to the wall, and nearer to hand he had a wooden shelf that held a vast array of shotguns, handguns, and wicked knives. Spread across the desk were a dozen photos of Darcy Smith.

  He was a man on a mission. A mission that he would accomplish no matter how many wolves, humans, or vampires had to die.

  Unconsciously stroking his hand over a photo of Darcy walking down the street with a faint smile upon her full lips, Salvatore abruptly raised his head as he caught the scent of an approaching cur.

  Among the werewolf world curs were a lesser Were. They were shifters who had once been human but had been transformed by the bite of a werewolf. Purebloods, on the other hand, were Weres who had been born from two Weres. They possessed skills far beyond mere curs. Faster, stronger, more intelligent. They were also capable of controlling their change unless it was a full moon.

  Unfortunately, purebloods were now far too rare, and even curs were more difficult to create.

  The venom that transformed a human to Were was deadly to most mortals, and only a handful managed to survive. Over the past hundred years even that handful had trickled to a halt. It had been more than twenty years since the last cur had survived.

  Something had to be done before the Weres disappeared entirely.

  That was why Salvatore had been sent to America from Rome. It was his duty to ensure that the Weres didn’t become extinct. And one part of that plan depended upon Darcy Smith.

  He had to get his hands on her. And soon.

  The door opened and the cur he had scented strolled into the room.

  She was a stunning vision. Tall and lithely muscled, she possessed black hair that fell in a smooth curtain to her waist and faintly oriental features that added an exotic beauty. At the moment she was garbed in nothing more than a thin, crimson silk robe that hit her midthigh, revealing the long, slender length of her legs.

  Since his ar
rival in America she had shared his bed.

  Why not?

  She was beautiful, passionate, and an animal beneath the sheets. He had wakened more than once covered in deep scratches and bite marks.

  Still, he was beginning to weary of her companionship. For all her charms, she had no appreciation for the heavy burden of responsibility he carried, and there was a growing possessiveness about her that he found chafing.

  He would belong to no cur. He was a pureblood. He would accept no less in his mate.

  Giving a toss of her hair, Jade crossed the room with a fluid grace before halting in front of his desk.

  She didn’t bow. A fact that Salvatore silently noted. The cur was growing entirely too comfortable in his presence. Perhaps it was time to remind her just who he was.

  “Hess has returned, my lord,” she purred in a voice that would make any male think of sex.

  Of course, just having her in the same room was enough to make a man think of sex. It was a power that she used to full advantage.

  He leaned back in his seat. “Send him in.”

  She allowed her gaze to stroke over his lean, dark fea tures and black hair, which was smoothed into a tail, before she lowered to his hard body, covered in a silk suit.

  A hungry, predatory smile curved her lips. “You look tense. Perhaps we should let Hess wait outside and I could help you to relax.” With a practiced motion she tugged open the robe and allowed it to slide down her naked body. “You know, ease some of those knots.”

  Salvatore’s body reacted. Hell, a naked woman was a naked woman. But his expression never altered as he gave a small shrug.

  “Tempting, but I fear I have no time for distractions. No matter how beautiful.”

  “No time, no time, no time,” she gritted, her passions swiftly altering to rage. She was not a woman who took rejection well. In fact, the last man to turn down her advances was now at the bottom of the Mississippi River.

  “I’m sick of those words. What sort of man doesn’t have time for me?”

  Salvatore narrowed his gaze. “One who has more important matters to consider. I am your leader, and that means I must put the good of the pack before my own pleasures.”

  Her expression became petulant. “Is that truly why you deny me?”

  “What other reason could I have?”

  Jade reached out to jab a polished red nail at a picture on his desk. “Her.”

  Salvatore rose to his feet, the air about him vibrating with danger. “Put your clothes on and get out, Jade.”

  “It’s that… human, isn’t it?”

  “I do not answer to curs,” he growled. “I am your king, and you will remember that.”

  Enraged beyond sense, she ignored the warning in his voice. “What is it with her? Ever since you’ve been on her trail you’ve changed. You’re obsessed with her. It’s sickening.”

  Salvatore clenched his hands at his sides. He could rip out her throat before she could even move, but he resisted the temptation. Unlike the curs, he possessed complete control over his baser instincts. He didn’t need the inconvenience of dumping a dead body in the middle of Chicago.

  “I will not tell you again. Get your clothes on and get out.”

  A trickle of a growl had entered his voice. It was enough to warn Jade that she had pushed matters as far as she dared. With a pout, she reached down to pick up her robe and roughly wrapped it about her body.

  Storming toward the door, she paused long enough to shoot him a venomous glare.

  “I may be a cur, but at least I don’t pant after humans,” she charged as she flounced through the door.

  With a faint frown, Salvatore watched her exit. The woman was becoming a bother. Tomorrow he would have her sent to his pack in Missouri. His second in command possessed unique skills in punishing untamed curs.

  The decision made, he awaited as Hess, a large, hulking cur, entered the room and offered a deep bow.

  Although Hess was part of his personal bodyguard, and large enough to halt speeding bullets and leap over tall buildings, he maintained the proper deference due to his leader.

  Moving to the desk, the cur rippled with bulging muscles that threatened to shred his black T-shirt and jeans. It wasn’t easy to find clothes large enough to cover a small mountain.

  “My lord,” he rumbled in a low tone.

  “You followed the trail?” Salvatore demanded.

  “Yes.” The man grimaced, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight. “We lost it just north of the city.”

  “North.” Salvatore absently toyed with the gold signet ring on his finger. “So the vampire is not returning to his lair. Interesting.”

  “Unless he intended to circle back after he lost us,” Hess pointed out.

  “A possibility, but doubtful. Styx does not yet fear us. If he were returning to his lair, he would have done so and dared us to retrieve the woman.”

  Hess gave a snarl to reveal his elongated teeth. The Were hated vampires with a passion.

  “Why was he at the bar?”

  “That is the question, is it not?” Salvatore replied.

  “You think we have a snitch?” Hess’s blue eyes began to glow with a dangerous light. As a cur, he was unable to control his change when he lost his temper. “Not for long. I’ve always liked the taste of traitor tartare.”

  “Remain under control,” Salvatore snapped. “We have no proof there is a spy among us, and I won’t have the pack turning on each other over false rumors and suspicion. Not when we are so close. If there is a spy I will deal with the traitor. Is that understood?”

  There was a moment when Hess battled against his instincts, and then with a shudder, the glow began to fade.

  “You’re the boss.”

  Circling the desk, Salvatore moved toward the map on the wall. He made an impatient motion toward Hess.

  “Come and show me precisely where you lost the trail.”

  Joining his leader, the cur pointed to a small dot north of the city. “It was just beyond here.”

  “So he was definitely headed out of town. He had his Ravens with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “He must have another lair,” Salvatore concluded. “It is too cold to leave a human exposed to such elements for long. Take your best scouts and begin searching for their trail. They can’t remain hidden forever.”

  Hess hesitated. Almost as if a genuine thought had managed to penetrate his thick skull.

  “My lord?”

  “Yes?”

  “You have not yet told us what is so important about this human.”

  Salvatore gave a lift of his brow. “Nor do I intend to. Not until it suits me to do so. Is that a problem?”

  The heavy face paled. “No, of course not. It’s just that there are a few of the pack who are not comfortable in the city. They wonder when we will return to our hunting grounds.”

  “Hunting grounds?” With a growl Salvatore paced toward the center of the room. Even before coming to America he had heard of the Weres’s treaty with the vampires, but he hadn’t actually believed they had endured being no more than chained beasts. Not until he had seen it with his own eyes. “Is that what you call that pathetic patch of ground the vampires keep us caged in?”

  Hess shrugged. He was a cur. He didn’t possess the strength to battle the vampires head-on, and he had been forced to be content with whatever they would dole out.

  “It’s private enough we can change and hunt whenever we want. It’s more than we can do here.”

  “It is a prison that is used to slowly exterminate us,” Salvatore rasped, his pacing taking him toward his small armory against the wall. “With every passing year there are fewer and fewer of us. Soon enough our race will be gone from the world and the vampires will celebrate our passing.”

  “And how’s coming to Chicago supposed to help?” Hess complained. “The humans still die when they’re bitten. We haven’t found one who survived.”

  Salvatore stiffened. “I
told you to keep the curs in check. I don’t want attention drawn to us.”

  He heard Hess shuffle his feet. “You keep them locked in this building night after night. Sometimes instinct just takes over.”

  Salvatore whirled about, a crossbow in his hand. He pointed the loaded arrow directly at the head of his guest.

  “Instinct? If this uncontrollable instinct endangers my plans or brings trouble to the rest of the pack, the cur responsible will die by my hand. And you will go to his grave with him. Is that clear?”

  In the blink of an eye the cur was on his knees, his head pressed to the wooden floor. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  “Good.” Salvatore tossed the crossbow on the desk. He hadn’t needed the weapon to kill the man. It was more of a… visual aide that helped him to make his point. “Now gather the men and start tracking the woman. The sooner we find her the sooner we leave here.”

  “Of course.”

  Hess remained on his knees as he crawled backward out the door and closed it behind him. Salvatore waited until he heard the sound of running footsteps before he pulled the cell phone from his pocket.

  He hit the speed dial and waited until he heard the sound of a familiar female voice.

  “It’s me,” he murmured, his voice smooth and unreadable. “No, she managed to escape, but I have the scouts tracking her. She won’t elude me for long. You have my word that soon she will be home, where she belongs.”

  Chapter Three

  Darcy was definitely freaked.

  She had awakened freaked to discover herself in a strange bedroom with a tall, drop-dead gorgeous man hovering over her. She had been more freaked when he had begun peppering her with questions like they were speed dating. And superfreaked when he had started slicing himself up and babbling about being a vampire.

  But being freaked didn’t stop a small, undeniable flare of relief from warming her heart.

  How many years had she fretted and brooded over the knowledge that there was something different about her? How often had she pulled away from others out of fear they might discover her hidden secrets and treat her as some sort of monster?

  Growing up in foster homes had taught her that people didn’t trust anything that strayed from the norm. No matter how good the hearts of those who cared for her, they couldn’t accept her oddities. They feared what they didn’t understand, and none of them wanted her to remain beneath their roof.