All About Levet Page 7

  The female heaved a sigh. “I fear I had a bit too much dewberry wine at the office party, and the portal was already closing when I tried to dash through.” She gave another tug on her leg. “Now I’m stuck.”

  Levet blinked. Office party?

  Did fairies have office parties?

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  She straightened as best she could with one leg caught in a portal and offered him a smile that melted the frostbite from his claws.

  “Sera Belle, the Christmas angel,” she said, her voice light and lilting. “You can call me Sera.”

  “Christmas angel,” Levet repeated in shock. He’d never met an actual angel. “I thought you were a myth. Like leprechauns.”

  She deliberately glanced down at her slender body that was covered by a shimmering silver gown.

  “Do I look like a myth?”

  Levet unconsciously moved forward, quite certain he’d never seen a more exquisite female in his life.

  “Non. You look . . . magnifique.”

  “Do I? Thank you, my dear.” Her smile was one of feminine bewitchment. “I was running late, so I didn’t have time to do my hair.”

  His gaze obediently moved to the glorious tumble of dark hair. “It is divine.” He sucked in a deep breath, oddly compelled to take another step forward. “And that smell.”

  Levet’s wings fluttered as he was saturated in the scent of freshly baked bread.

  Her expression became mysterious. “Yes. I get that a lot.”

  “Do you need help?” Levet murmured, his fingers itching to touch the lacy beauty of her wings.

  “I should think that was obvious.”

  Levet grimaced at his silly question, suspecting that delectable scent of bread was somehow clouding his mind.

  Of course the female needed his help. She was stuck, was she not?

  “I could try a spell—”

  “No,” she sharply interrupted. “The portal will open on its own in an hour.”

  “Oui, but I could open it much faster.”

  “Please . . . don’t.”

  Levet sniffed. Did she doubt his powers?

  Well, no matter how beautiful she might be he would not stay to be insulted.

  He’d endured enough of that from Yannah, merci beaucoup.

  “Bon.” He turned away. “I am quite busy, as are most demons who are charged with protecting the world from evil. If you prefer to wait in the cold, then so be it. That is hokey-pokey with me.”

  “It’s okeydokey not . . . Wait, don’t leave me.”

  “Ah.” Levet turned back, his hands lifted as he prepared to dazzle her with his skill. “Now you want me to perform a spell.”

  “No. There’s no magic that can open the portal,” she hastily informed him. “But someone must perform my duties.”

  Levet stiffened. There was a faux innocence in her tone that set off his spicy senses. Or was it Spidey-sense?

  He narrowed his gaze. “Duties?”

  She blinked, a dimple abruptly appearing beside her mouth. “I’m a Christmas angel.”

  “Oui, so you said.”

  She waved a hand toward the nearby pines covered in snow. “And it is Christmas.”

  Hmm. Levet tried to recall what he’d heard about Christmas angels. He knew they didn’t slide down chimneys or ride reindeer, but it seemed that they were rumored to do something Christmassy.

  “Do you spread festive joy?” he demanded.

  Her lips twitched, as if she were amused by her inner thoughts. “Something like that.” She leaned forward, the jade eyes seeming to pierce to his very soul. “Now you must do it.”

  “Moi?” Levet shook his head, taking a step back. Hadn’t he just been plagued by the worrisome fear he was not quite so splendidly magnificent as he’d believed? That despite his great deeds he had been left on his own for a reason? How could he possibly be responsible for ensuring the Christmas spirit for someone else? “I know nothing of being an angel.”

  “It’s quite simple.” Moving with grace despite her leg being trapped in a portal, the angel reached behind her back to produce a small fairy wand. “Here.”

  With startling speed she had the small, sparkly stick with a glowing end shoved into Levet’s hand.

  “A wand?” A renegade flare of excitement raced through Levet. He’d never actually held an honest-to-God, genuine wand. “Is it magical?”

  “Of course it’s magical.”

  Levet gave it a tentative wave, his eyes widening as a brilliant sprinkle of lights shot off the end.

  Why didn’t gargoyles have magic wands?

  They were the boom. No wait . . . the bomb.

  Levet gave the wand another swoosh. “What do I do with it?”

  Again, the angel gave him an overly innocent smile. “Just tap a lucky demon three times with it.”

  Levet studied the delicate wand. “That’s it?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happens?”

  “They are . . .” There was a brief pause. “Encouraged to make a change in their lives. It’s quite easy.”

  Levet’s glance went to Sera’s beautiful face. Hmm. He did not need to be a psychic to know that magic was never so simple.

  Especially when it tampered with the minds of demons.

  “I don’t think I am a suitable replacement.” He reluctantly held the wand toward Sera. “You must find someone else.”

  “I see.” The angel heaved a deep, sorrowful sigh. “Ah well. A pity about the babies.”

  Levet froze in sudden alarm. “What babies?”

  Sera blinked, as if astonished that Levet didn’t know what she was talking about. “Harley’s babies, of course.”

  There was a tiny voice in the back of Levet’s mind that warned he was being played. Thankfully, he’d long ago learned to ignore that particular voice.

  “They are in danger?” he demanded.

  “Oh yes.” Sera gave a somber nod of her head. “Great danger.”

  “From whom?”

  “A pure-blood Were named Damon who intends to challenge Salvatore for the right to be king.”

  Levet’s wings twitched with a flare of panic.

  He might wish the current King of Weres a severe case of the mange, but he was horrified by the thought that there might be a battle that would endanger the helpless pups.

  It was always the innocents who suffered.

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  Levet unconsciously gripped the wand, the need to do something to protect the helpless children thundering through him.

  “We must warn Harley.”

  Sera gave a shake of her head. “Only you can halt disaster.”

  “But . . .” Levet was on the point of confessing that while his magic was formidable, it might not be quite powerful enough to halt a purebred Were, when there was a swirl of sparkles dancing around him. His eyes widened, his tail tucking between his legs as the sparkles twirled around him, faster and faster. Then, without warning, Levet felt a tug deep inside him, and he was lifted off his feet and was flying through the air at a blurring speed. “Eek!”

  The King of Weres’ Lair in St. Louis

  Salvatore hadn’t become leader of the pure-blood Weres because of his dark beauty, or even his ruthless ambition. He was the king because his wolf was stronger, faster, and more cunning than any other. And because his human side was capable of maintaining an icy control that was rare among hot-blooded Weres.

  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.<
br />
  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 demo
n 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.”