Darkness Everlasting Read online

  Which was really rather ironic under the circumstances.

  “You talk to plants?” he at last demanded.

  “Of course.” Darcy turned, her breath catching at the sight of him. It just didn’t seem fair that any man should be so flat-out beautiful. Hastily she returned her attention to the plants. It was that or gawking at the sinful beast as if she didn’t have a brain. “They get lonely, just like people. Don’t you, Rudolf?”

  “Rudolf?”

  She gave a lift of her shoulder. “Well, I didn’t know the names you gave to them so I had to call them something. This time of year it seemed appropriate to name them after Santa’s reindeer. You know, ‘Twas the Night before Christmas’?”

  Darcy gave a jump of surprise as he was suddenly kneeling next to her. She hadn’t heard a whisper. Was he that quiet, or could he just pop from one place to another like magic?

  Seemingly unaware of the fact that he had just scared the bejeezus out of her, the vampire regarded her with a curious expression.

  “I’m assuming that it is some human tradition? They seem to have an endless supply of them.”

  “Vampires don’t celebrate Christmas?”

  “When one is eternal the urge to mark the path of the year with odd rituals seems rather redundant.”

  Her unease swiftly faded. Strange that when he was near she couldn’t seem to recall that he was a dangerous creature holding her captive.

  Maybe it was because she kept being overwhelmed by the urge to rip off that clinging sweater and run her lips over his smooth, bronzed skin.

  Yeah, that might be it.

  “Christmas isn’t about marking the path of the year,” she protested, her fingers gently stroking the leaves of Rudolf.

  “No?”

  “It’s about the spirit of the season. Peace on earth and goodwill to men.” Her lashes lowered to hide the loneliness she kept hidden inside. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. “It’s about love, and kindness, and … family.”

  Slender, bronzed fingers reached out to curl around her hand. His skin was cool, but it managed to send a sharp flare of heat racing straight to the pit of her stomach.

  “If it is such a special celebration, then why does it make you sad?” Styx murmured softly.

  She stiffened at his unwelcome perception. “What makes you think that it makes me sad?”

  He leaned closer, his dark eyes strangely hypnotic. “I can feel your sadness. It embraces you like an old friend.”

  Darcy swallowed heavily. She was losing herself in that magnetic gaze. In the soft stroke of his thumb over her inner wrist.

  Oy. It had been so very, very long since anyone had touched her with such intimacy.

  “What do you mean you can feel it?” she demanded in a husky tone.

  “I’m a master vampire.”

  “And that makes you what? Some sort of super mind reader?”

  “No, but I can sense very deep emotions when I’m touching you.”

  Darcy shifted uneasily. She didn’t like the thought of him reading her moods. Not when a part of that mood included a very tangible desire to snuggle against that hard chest and kiss her way over those perfect male features.

  “Oh.”

  His free hand lifted to cup her chin. “Tell me why you’re sad, Darcy.”

  “I suppose everyone who is alone in the world is a little sad at this time of year,” she grudgingly confessed. “As I said, it’s a time for families. For sharing your life with another.”

  There was a small silence, his gaze lowering to where their fingers were entangled. “You are not alone now.”

  She was caught off guard by his strange words. “Being held captive is hardly the same as being home for the holidays.”

  “Perhaps not.” His gaze abruptly lifted to trap hers. “But we are here together, and I would ease your loneliness if you would allow me.”

  For some odd reason her mouth went dry and her heart lodged somewhere near her throat.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I feel your sadness, Darcy, but I also feel your passion.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “It stirs a need in me that I’m not sure I’m strong enough to battle.” he overrode her soft protest. “A need I don’t want to battle.”

  With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted her fingers to his mouth.

  Feeling oddly bemused, Darcy watched as he nibbled along the length of her thumb.

  She gave a choked sound as her entire body shuddered in reaction. Oh, boy. That felt good. Very good.

  “Styx,” she breathed.

  “Where is the gargoyle?” he demanded, his black eyes shimmering with a dangerous glow.

  “He… he said he was going hunting.”

  “Good.”

  Without warning, he gave her arm a jerk. Darcy gasped as she found herself tumbling into his lap with his arms wrapping tightly about her.

  “What are you doing?”

  He gave a soft chuckle as he bent down to press his lips to the curve of her neck.

  “It’s been a long time, but I can’t imagine that I have forgotten that much,” he whispered against her skin.

  Her free hand gripped the soft cashmere of his sweater as his tongue traced a wet line to the base of her throat. A heat was beginning to pool in the pit of her stomach. She vaguely recalled the sensation as that of raw, glorious lust.

  It had been a long time for her as well.

  Still, she didn’t know enough about vampire sex, or this vampire in particular, to completely relax.

  “Are you going to bite me?” Darcy whispered.

  She could feel the shudder that rippled through his body. As if the thought of biting her was a potent one.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Quite the contrary.” He teasingly scraped the tips of his fangs over her skin. “A vampire’s bite brings nothing but pleasure. We are forced to be very careful to ensure our companion does not become addicted.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as he nuzzled lower, tugging at the loose T-shirt so he could trace the line of her collarbone with his lips.

  “Companion or prey?” she demanded.

  Styx shifted her on his lap to allow one long-fingered hand to stroke over the bare skin of her thigh. “Sometimes one, sometimes the other, sometimes both.”

  Darcy had to swallow twice before she could speak. The heat in her stomach was spreading through her body at an alarming rate.

  Not a bad thing, but it was making it increasingly difficult to think.

  “And which am I?”

  He pulled back to study her with pitch-black eyes. “Which do you want to be?”

  She licked her lips as his hand moved toward the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “I think I’m a hostage. One you intend to hand over to a pack of werewolves.”

  “Nothing has been decided yet.”

  She grimaced. “Well that’s reassuring.”

  “Would you prefer that I lie to you?”

  Darcy didn’t know how she would have responded to the blunt question, and in the end it didn’t matter.

  Lowering his head, Styx captured her lips in a demanding kiss. At the same time, his clever fingers found the edge of her tiny underwear and slipped beneath.

  Her hips gave a jerk upward as he parted her to discover the slick dampness within.

  “God,” she breathed in shock.

  “Do you like that?” he whispered.

  Her eyes fluttered closed as he pressed deep, his thumb easily discovering that magic spot of pleasure.

  “Yes.”

  He groaned softly. “I can feel the beat of your heart. Taste it on my lips.”

  Darcy struggled to think. Struggled not to be swept beneath the dark, blissful tide.

  It was all happening way too fast, but she couldn’t seem to muster the will to stop the delicious onslaught.

  Her hands slid beneath the soft sweater to at last discover if his
skin was as smooth and perfect as she had imagined.

  It was.

  Like the finest of silk and it was cool as marble to the touch. She sighed softly as she explored the hard mus cles that rippled beneath her fingers.

  His groan came out as a low hiss, and with a sharp impatience he managed to jerk the T-shirt over her head and slip off her lacy bra.

  “Angel.” His mouth skimmed the curve of her small breast before tugging her hardened nipple between his lips.

  Darcy’s toes were curling as he gently tugged at her nipple while his finger stroked between her legs with a swift, heart-stopping pace.

  Her hands slid along his rib cage to his broad back. She could spend hours just touching him, she realized. There was no fear that she might unwittingly hurt him, or reveal parts of herself that she had always kept hidden.

  For the first time in her entire life, she was free of the restraints that had always bound her.

  Glorying in the delicious sense of liberty, she arched her hips upward as the pleasure began to build to a point of no return.

  “I need you. I need to taste you.” Styx lifted his head, his dark eyes filled with a yearning that made Darcy’s heart squeeze in the oddest manner. “Will you allow me?”

  She shivered at his expression of stark hunger. There was something terribly thrilling in being desired with such force.

  Even if it was for her blood.

  Her fingernails dug into his back as that shimmering, glorious peak hovered just beyond reach.

  At the moment she would have agreed to anything he demanded.

  Anything.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  With a growl that would have terrified her if she weren’t caught in the throes of passion, his head slowly lowered to the slender length of her neck.

  Despite her excitement Darcy found herself tensing. There seemed no possible way for a pair of fangs to stab through the skin without pain.

  His tongue lightly touched the vein throbbing in her throat. “I swear I will not harm you,” he said in a husky tone.

  “Styx…”

  Her words were brought to a shuddering halt as there was a sensation of cool pressure and then a shocking jolt of intense pleasure flooded through her body.

  She could feel each deep suck. As if he were pulling blood from the very tips of her toes. And in perfect rhythm he continued to stroke his thumb over her tender spot of pleasure.

  It was all too much.

  Darcy gasped as she writhed beneath his touch, her nails raking down his back. She had enjoyed the touch of a man before. She wasn’t a complete novice.

  But nothing—nothing—could compare to the near violent explosion that clenched her lower muscles and brought a startled scream to her lips.

  With a gentleness she would never have expected from such a large man, Styx carried her to the bed and tucked her still-shaking body beneath the covers. Then, stretching out beside her, he leaned on his elbow and studied her with a searching gaze.

  “Angel?”

  It took Darcy several moments to recall how to speak. “Cripes,” she at last managed.

  His expression became concerned as he touched her cheek. “Are you… well?”

  “I think so.”

  She began to inch her way up the mound of pillows when she was halted by a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “You shouldn’t move yet.” He turned to reach behind him, catching her off guard as he pressed a chilled glass he had brought into her hand. “Here.”

  “What is it?” she demanded with obvious suspicion.

  His lips twitched. “Nothing more dangerous than fruit juice.”

  She took a cautious sip, relieved at the sweet taste of oranges. Relieved and surprised.

  “This is fresh. Did you make it?”

  “Why are you so surprised? I’m not utterly useless.”

  She drained the glass before setting it aside and returning her attention to the man looming over her.

  “I just can’t imagine why a vampire would need culi nary skills. It’s not like you spend a lot of time in the kitchen.”

  “No, our sustenance does not come from food.” A heat that she was beginning to recognize smoldered in his dark eyes as he deliberately trailed his fingers down the curve of her neck. His brows lifted as a sudden color stained her cheeks. “You are blushing.”

  Well, duh.

  She had just had the orgasm of a lifetime in the arms of a complete stranger. Not to mention allowing him to drink her blood as if she were an all-night convenience store.

  She wasn’t a prude, but she wasn’t a slut. And this was way beyond slutty.

  It was… superslutty.

  “Of course I’m blushing,” she muttered, tugging the blanket up to her chin.

  Okay, it was closing the door after the horse had escaped, but it made her feel better.

  A tiny frown tugged at his brows. “What happened between us embarrassed you?”

  She heaved a sigh. “Look, I don’t know what kind of woman you usually pick up for a snack, but I don’t… indulge in this sort of thing with someone I just met. Especially when that someone happens to be a vampire who kidnapped me.”

  The beautiful bronzed features took on that aloof expression. It was an expression she was beginning to suspect he used as an unconscious defensive mechanism.

  No doubt one of her many psychiatrists over the years would call it “blocking.”

  “I don’t pick up women at all. It is far more convenient to procure what I need from the blood bank.” There was an edge to his voice, almost as if she had managed to wound him. Which was ridiculous. Was it even possible to hurt a vampire’s feelings? “But there is no shame in sharing such intimacy. There has been an attraction between us from the first moment.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that we’re strangers, or that you’re holding me against my will.”

  Styx gave an impatient sound as his hand cupped her chin and he forced her to meet his glittering gaze.

  “I crossed paths with Salvatore tonight, angel. He is a dangerous pureblood and he is desperate to have you in his power. If I released you, I do not doubt he would make you his prisoner.”

  He was touching her face. Nothing more, but it sent a sizzling wave of excitement racing through her.

  Holy cow. She had to physically stop herself from reaching up to tug that glorious hair from his braid.

  Stop this, Darcy Smith, she told herself sternly.

  Her very life might be in danger and all she could think about was this testosterone-blessed vampire.

  “I’m not completely helpless,” she muttered.

  “Perhaps not, but you are no match for a werewolf of his strength.”

  “Would being his prisoner be so much different from being yours?”

  This time there was no mistaking his sharp hiss. If she hadn’t wounded him, she had at least managed to offend him.

  “I have offered you no harm,” he said in a stiff tone. “Indeed, I have done everything in my power to pro vide you with comfort.”

  Despite the absurd pang of guilt, Darcy refused to be contrite. She was the victim here, wasn’t she?

  “Yes, and while I’m here in this comfort I’m losing my jobs, my rent is overdue, and my plants are dying,” she charged, tugging her chin from his grasp. “I may not have much of a life, but it’s mine and you’re ruining it.”

  He didn’t bother to be contrite either.

  “You don’t need to worry about money. I have…”

  Her hand shot out to cover his mouth before she could halt the instinctive gesture. “Don’t even say it. I’m not a charity case.”

  His frown deepened. “It is just money. I have no need for it and you do.”

  “No. I earn my own way.”

  “You are being absurdly stubborn.”

  Her chin tilted. She might be his captive, but she wasn’t his property.

  “It’s my right.”

  Chapter Five

&nbs
p; Styx awoke the next evening decidedly grumpy and completely alone in his room deep below the house.

  Although all the bedrooms possessed tinted windows and shutters heavy enough to protect a vampire from the sun, Styx felt more comfortable among the dark tunnels that ran beneath the vast estate.

  And, of course, it was the only certain means of guaranteeing that he didn’t give in to temptation and return to the bed of his aggravating guest.

  How was a mere vampire supposed to understand such a strange creature, he brooded as he soaked in Viper’s large tub, and then spent nearly a half hour braiding his wet hair.

  They had shared the most intimate of embraces. She had screamed in fulfillment as he had taken her very essence into his body. They had been as one. Bound as only a vampire and his lover could be.

  It had been glorious.

  Astonishingly glorious.

  Even as a vampire he had realized just how rare their union had been. As a human she should have been utterly enthralled.

  Instead, she had muttered about wanting to leave him and refused to even accept a portion of his considerable wealth.

  He was still sulking as he climbed the stairs and entered the large kitchen. Unfortunately, his mood was not at all improved by the tiny gargoyle who was sitting at the table as he polished off the last of his dinner.

  A dinner that Styx suspected had been captured in the nearby woods and eaten raw.

  Not that he particularly cared. Given the opportunity, he would be upstairs hunting his own sweet meal. But he had a feeling that Darcy wouldn’t be pleased to walk in and discover Levet consuming a dead carcass in the kitchen.

  The gargoyle hopped from his chair and flashed a grin.

  “Dead man walking.”

  Styx frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Never mind,” Levet sighed. “So few truly understand my humor.”

  Supremely indifferent to the gargoyle’s odd humor, Styx turned his attention to far more important matters.

  “Has Darcy risen yet?”

  Levet shrugged. “I haven’t seen her, but then that might be because you have her room guarded as if she were a rabid animal instead of a sweet young woman.”

  Styx stiffened in anger. Why did everyone presume the worst in him?

  “The guards are there for her protection,” he said in an icy tone. “Or would you prefer that she be carried off by a pack of werewolves?”