She regarded him warily. She didn't believe for a minute that his idea of a rescue would match her own.
"Now?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Actually, yeah. It's a problem."
"Why?"
"Because I don't trust you."
His features hardened. There was a restless energy that hummed about him and filled the air with heat.
"And you trust the vampire?"
She smiled wryly. "I think it's more a matter of the 'devil you know.' So far he hasn't harmed me."
"So far? Are you willing to risk your life on a vampire's whim?"
Darcy shrugged. It sounded incredibly stupid when he said it like that. Then again, would it be any less stupid to allow herself to be rescued by a werewolf who had started all her troubles in the first place?
"Why would you want to rescue me?" she abruptly demanded.
There was a tight silence, as if he was debating whether or not to simply toss her over his shoulder and be done with it.
Darcy tensed, quite prepared to scream, but he gave a shake of his head.
"Would you believe that I'm just a good guy?"
"Not for a minute."
He gave a soft, husky laugh. "I will not deny that I have need of you."
"What would a werewolf need with me?"
He straightened as his heat spread through the room and washed over her bare skin.
"You know?"
Darcy swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned the whole werewolf thing. That might be the sort of information he didn't want bandied about.
Still, it was too late to pretend ignorance now.
"Yes."
Salvatore leaned forward and sniffed the air about her. "You don't seem particularly frightened."
She took a step back. She had encountered any number of oddballs over the years. Hell, most people considered her an oddball. But she wasn't quite comfortable with being sniffed.
"If you wanted to hurt me you could have done so already."
"You're right." The tension in the air eased and the enticing smile returned. "I have no desire to hurt you. In fact, I will kill anything and anyone who attempts to harm you."
"Yes, well . . . that's psychotically reassuring, but you still haven't told me why you have been following me."
"I will tell you once I have you free of the vampire. If he were to know your worth he would most certainly kill you."
Great. Just great.
That was all she needed. A reason for a dangerous vampire to kill her.
"I don't know what you mean by worth. I'm just an uneducated bartender with less than fifty dollars in the bank."
The dark eyes held a heat that was more than a little disturbing. "Oh no, cara, you are most certainly priceless."
"Why? Why me? Does it have something to do with my blood?"
"It has everything to do with your blood."
Darcy caught her breath, her simmering unease abruptly forgotten. "Do you know something of my parents?"
Without warning he had moved forward and was holding her face in his hands.
"I will reveal all once you are in my care, cara," he promised.
His touch was surprisingly gentle, but Darcy batted his hands away with impatience.
"Stop that."
He merely smiled as he backed toward the door. "If you want the truth of your past, you must come to me, Darcy. I will send word to you in a few days with a plan to help you escape. Until then." He gave a small bow as he stepped through the doorway. "Oh, cara."
"What?"
"You will need to return to the shower. Vampires possess an uncanny ability to smell werewolves."
He disappeared from view and Darcy heaved a heavy sigh.
"Gripes."
Salvatore slipped through the shadows with a shimmering frustration.
Nothing was going as it should.
He had devoted thirty years to searching for Darcy. Thirty goddamn years. Then, when he finally managed to track her down she was snatched from beneath his nose by filthy vampires.
It was enough to make any werewolf snap and snarl.
And now, when he had risked everything to slip her away, he was being forced to leave the remote estate alone.
What the hell was wrong with the woman?
She was supposed to be terrified at being held prisoner by a vampire. She was supposed to be hiding in a corner just waiting to be rescued.
Rescued by him.
But she hadn't been terrified. As a pureblood he could sense her every mood, and while she had been bemused and understandably wary, there had been no panicked need to escape.
In fact, it had taken only a few moments to realize that she would balk at any attempt to force her from the house.
Balk enough to bring a horde of angry vampires down upon his head.
Salvatore was a powerful Were. Perhaps the most powerful pureblood in centuries. But not even he could take on a dozen vampires. Not when one of them was the mighty Anasso.
And more importantly, he couldn't afford to risk Darcy.
She was the key to all their plans.
Now he was empty-handed with no certain means of capturing his prize.
Someone was going to pay for this.
Starting with Styx, the freaking master of the universe.
Chapter Six
Styx paced the kitchen, careful to keep his gaze from straying toward the small table in the center.
There was nothing wrong with the table.
In fact, it was perfect.
He had heated the vegetarian lasagna and garlic bread exactly as the housekeeper had directed. The red wine was breathing. He had even arranged the candles to provide a soft, comforting glow through the room.
And that's what was troubling him.
It looked precisely as he had intended it to look.
Romantic.
He gave a shake of his head as he glanced toward the empty door for the hundredth time.
There was no explanation for his strange behavior.
It could not just be desire.
If he only wanted sex and blood he could easily enthrall her with his mind and take what he wanted. She would give him whatever he desired, and do so gladly.
It was what vampires had been doing since the beginning of time.
But this . . . fussing and fretting over her tiniest comfort.
This was most certainly not the habit of a vampire.
Thankfully, for his peace of mind, Darcy chose that moment to walk through the door.
Any confusion as to why he was acting in such a strange manner was forgotten as he allowed his gaze to slide over her tiny body enwrapped in the heavy brocade robe.
She looked young and delicate and so vulnerable that she would have tugged at the heart of the most ruthless demon.
Forcing himself to resist the urge to cross the room and sweep her into his arms, Styx gave a lift of his brows.
"I began to fear that you intended to remain in your chambers for the entire night."
She smiled, but there was something wary in her manner as she edged toward the table.
"The thought did cross my mind, but I was too hungry. Something smells delicious."
"Since my meager presence did not seem enough to lure you from your room, I resorted to the temptation of food," he retorted dryly.
"Wise choice." Reaching the table, she sat down and took a deep sniff. "What is it?"
"The note from the housekeeper says that it is vegetarian lasagna. I hope you approve?"
"If it tastes half as good as it smells I more than approve." She picked up her fork and took a bite, her eyes closing with obvious pleasure. "Delicious."
Styx felt his body instantly harden. He remembered all too vividly her eyes closing in another sort of pleasure. With a small curse he moved to take a seat across the table. It was that or allowing her to realize her unnerving power over him.
Sensing his presence, Darcy opened her eyes and that caution returned. "What about you?" she demanded.
A hint of annoyance narrowed his gaze. He had already assured her that he would not force her to share blood. He was unaccustomed to having his honor questioned.
"I have already eaten."
"Oh." She ducked her head as she concentrated on the food before her. "You don't have to stay, you know. I promise not to try to escape for at least the next twenty minutes."
"Are you attempting to be rid of me?"
"You must have better things to do than watch me eat."
Styx frowned. "What is troubling you?"
She never lifted her head as she continued to eat. "I'm being held against my will by a vampire. A pack of werewolves is lurking outside hoping to snatch me. And to top it off, I'm missing work, which means I don't get paid. Don't you think any poor woman would be a little tense?"
Styx was forced to concede she did have a point. Although he had gone to an extraordinary effort to ease her confinement, there was no denying that she was his prisoner.
How could he hold her to blame for not being entirely happy with the situation?
"Perhaps," he muttered, leaning back in his seat to watch her polish off the last of the lasagna and two slices of bread. "There is more if you wish."
