That ridiculous, annoying question!
"Would you have me risk war with the Weres for a mere woman?" he said in a frigid tone.
Viper gave a short laugh. "Styx, I was willing to risk the entire race of vampires to save Shay."
That was true enough. Styx had nearly killed both Viper and Shay. "But she was your mate. You loved her."
"I still believe that some sacrifices are too great to be made."
Styx ignored the odd tightness in his chest. He didn't want to know what it might mean.
"This woman means nothing to us."
Viper looked annoyingly unconvinced. "It is your decision to make, Styx. You are our leader."
Styx grimaced. "A highly overrated position, I assure you."
Viper gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Don't allow yourself to be rushed into a decision, my friend. The Weres are troublesome, but we can keep them in check while you discover what they want of her. There is no use bargaining with Salvatore until you know precisely what your chips are worth."
Styx slowly nodded. It made sense. If he could discover what Salvatore wanted with Darcy, then he might be able to avoid negotiations altogether.
If he wanted her bad enough, the Were would have to give in to whatever demands Styx might make.
"Wise counsel."
"I do have my moments."
"Yes, as brief and fleeting as they may be."
Viper took an abrupt step backward, his eyes wide. "Was that a joke?"
"I have my moments as well," Styx murmured, heading toward the door. He had been away from the estate long enough. He paused at the door to shoot his friend a warning glance. "I will tolerate the gargoyle as long as he does not trouble Darcy. If he so much as makes her frown, he will find himself on the streets, if not worse." With his threat delivered, Styx walked out of the office, but not before he witnessed the slow, utterly inexplicable smile that curved Viper's lips.
Chapter Four
Styx returned to the dark burgundy Jag parked in the back alley.
He had no fear of walking the dark streets, no matter what the time. There were few things stupid enough to attack a master vampire. Not unless they possessed a death wish.
Turning into the alley, he came to a halt. With a smooth motion he pulled the two daggers from his boots and scanned the darkness.
Even over the stench of garbage and human waste he could detect the unmistakable scent of Were.
Three curs and a pureblood.
And close.
He widened his stance as he caught sight of the nearest cur. In human form he was small and wiry with a mane of long brown hair. He looked more like a schoolyard bully, or petty thief, than a creature of the night But Styx didn't miss the predatory hunger on his lean face, or the glow in the brown eyes that revealed he was close to shifting.
Even curs could be dangerous when their blood was running hot and their beast was calling.
Never taking his eyes from the cur who was poised near a black Jeep, Styx reached out with his senses to find the other Weres. He wasn't about to be distracted by one mangy cur so that the others could outflank him.
One more cur was hidden behind a Dumpster while the pureblood and remaining cur were on the roof of an empty Laundromat across the alley.
Smart dogs.
Smarter than the nearest cur, who gave a low growl in his throat. He was going to attack. Already his muscles were tense with anticipation, and his breath coming in small pants. In contrast, Styx remained utterly immobile, his thoughts clear and the daggers held loosely in his hands.
His seeming nonchalance was all the provoking the rabid cur needed, and with a hair-stirring growl he launched himself forward.
Styx waited until the man was nearly on him before reaching out and grasping the beast by the throat. There was a strangled whine followed by the gurgling rattle of death as Styx lifted him off the ground and crushed his throat.
He yanked the struggling form close to his body as he slid the dagger between his ribs and deep into his heart. A Were could heal from almost any wound except silver to the heart or decapitation.
There was a gasping cry as the cur went limp, and after tossing aside the corpse, Styx smoothly turned in time to watch the next cur rush from behind the Dumpster. He tossed the dagger in his hand with such blinding speed that the attacking cur took several steps before at last coming to an unsteady halt and regarding the dagger sticking in his chest.
It hadn't been a killing blow, but the silver was buried deep in his body. With a shrill howl the cur fell to his knees as he tugged desperately on the hilt.
The sickly sweet odor of burning flesh filled the cold air, but Styx's attention already had turned to the two Weres who still hovered on the roof above.
"Who's next?" he demanded.
The sound of clapping broke the silence as the pure-blood rose to his feet and stared down at Styx. Despite the filth of the alley, he was wearing a silk suit that was tailored to fit his muscular body, and his dark hair was perfectly groomed. Styx didn't doubt the man could also boast a pedicure and satin boxers.
Royalty, indeed.
"Well done. But, of course, you are the notorious Styx, master of vampires, and dictator to all demons," the wolf drawled with a faint accent. "Tell me, is it true you received the name Styx because you leave a river of dead behind you?"
Styx deliberately slid the remaining dagger back into his boot and held his arms out in invitation.
"Come down here and discover for yourself, Salvatore."
"Oh, I don't doubt we'll eventually have the opportunity to test which of us is the better man, but not tonight"
"Then why are you bothering me?" Styx demanded coldly.
"You have something I want."
A faint smile touched his lips. Ah, so his efforts were paying dividends already.
"Do I?"
Temporarily."
"If you want we can return to my lair and you can try to take her back," Styx drawled.
The wolf gave a low growl. "Oh, I will have her back. That much I promise."
"Not unless you are willing to bargain with me."
"I won't be blackmailed by a rotting vamp."
Styx shrugged. "Then the lovely Ms. Smith remains my captive."
"We are no longer your dogs, Styx." Salvatore curled his lip with disdain. "We will not be bound by your laws or chained like animals."
Styx narrowed his gaze. He could smell the smoldering anger in the pureblood, but the wolf maintained a firm control over his instincts. A rare ability for a Were and one that marked him as a dangerous adversary.
"This is hardly the place to negotiate the rights and privileges of Weres," Styx said, his fangs lengthening in warning. "And I will offer you a small warning, Salvatore. I don't like ultimatums. The next time you issue one I will personally hunt you down and execute you."
The wolf never flinched. "Not without reprisals."
Styx gave a soft hiss as he allowed his power to swirl through the alley. It was obvious this new King of Wolves needed a reminder of the dangers in crossing wills with a vampire.
"I have called for a meeting of the Commission. If they arrive before I decide to kill you, then I will await their approval." He lifted his hand, sending the power toward the looming werewolf. "Otherwise I will simply issue a heartfelt regret that I was forced to act before they could arrive."
Salvatore staggered to his knees before grimly forcing himself back to his feet. His eyes glowed in the darkness, but his hands were steady as he smoothed the silk jacket.
"Am I supposed to be frightened?"
"That, of course, is your decision."
There was a low, awful howl from the roof as the cur at Salvatore's side abruptly shifted. The large man with a bald head and bulging muscles twisted into a towering beast with a thick mat of black fur and lethal claws. Stepping to the edge of the roof, he lifted his muzzle to the sky.
The dagger was in Styx's hand even as Salvatore turned and, with a negligent motion, he backhanded the cur. There was a startled yip as the Were was knocked across the roof and nearly tumbled onto the pavement on the opposite side.
Styx gave a lift of his brow as Salvatore turned his back on the cur and returned his attention to the vampire below. Clearly a leader who believed in a "spare the rod, spoil the werewolf" philosophy.
"Give me the woman and I will consider... negotiations," Salvatore conceded in a smooth tone, as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Styx kept the dagger in his hand, ready to strike. This was a pureblood that only a fool would underestimate.
Besides, the arrogant command to hand over Darcy made him want to sink his fangs into the damnable wolf.
"Ms. Smith will not be released until you have agreed to return to your traditional hunting grounds and to halt your attack upon humans. Only then can we discuss your complaints."
Not surprisingly, the Were gave a short, humorless laugh at the uncompromising demand. Styx expected nothing less.
"If you won't give me the woman I will take her."
A werewolf with a death wish.
His favorite kind.
He smiled. "You're welcome to try."
"Arrogant son of a bitch."
