Levet (5 page)

Elijah had had the best intentions when he'd come into the apartment.

He'd planned to corner Valla and convince her that he didn't have a savior complex or whatever other lame excuse she'd invented to keep a barrier between them.

Then he was going to reveal what he'd known from the moment he'd scooped her out of the Seine.

She was his mate.

And he would spend the rest of eternity, if necessary, convincing her that they belonged together.

But he'd been distracted by her concern for the pesky gargoyle. And more delectably distracted when he'd been goaded into kissing her.

Now he was determined to prove that the scars that marked her face only added to her beauty.

And if words couldn't do it, then he was willing to use more direct methods.

Like a return to the delectable kissing . . .

That seemed a good place to start.

Pressing his lips against the jagged patch of skin that had been ruined by a spell meant to kill her, he savored the heat and tantalizing scent that had haunted his dreams for far too long.

She stiffened, but didn't pull away, her breathing shallow as he continued to caress the physical proof of her survival. He took his time, trailing his lips over the delicate shell of her ear before returning to her cheek.

It wasn't until her rigid muscles slowly began to loosen that he allowed his exploration to expand to include the line of her stubborn jaw and the enticing length of her neck. He shuddered, his hands slipping beneath her shirt to cup the lush abundance of her breasts.

Mère de dieu
, he loved the feel of her softness in his hands.

He was going to love the feel of her breasts in his mouth even more, he decided, tugging the top higher as he dipped his head down to capture the tip of her nipple between his teeth, taking care not to break the fragile skin with his fangs.

He might be ready and eager to complete their mating, but he wasn't going to risk creating a bond she wasn't prepared to accept.

She'd had too many things forced on her over the years.

Wrapping his arms around her slender waist as she shivered in pleasure, Elijah teased her tender nipple with his tongue. They groaned in unison.

The taste of her was succulent. As sweet as fresh peaches. And her scent . . .

His cock threatened to explode as her arousal spiced the air.

He wanted to strip off her clothes and take her against the counter.

Or maybe he would lay her across the dining table and feast on her for the next century.

Of course, she might prefer the comfort of her bed, he silently acknowledged as he turned his head to capture her other nipple between his lips.

A soft mattress. Moonlight spilling over her luscious body as he settled between her legs and thrust deep inside her. A locked door to keep out unwelcome intruders.

Oui
. The bedroom was swiftly becoming the preferable option.

Lifting his head, he claimed her lips in a kiss that was slow and deep, demanding everything she had to offer. At the same time his fingers threaded in the satin softness of her golden hair.

There was no hurry, he reminded his aching erection. This wasn't sex.

It was making love in the finest sense.

Her hands drifted up to clutch his shoulders, as if her knees had suddenly gone weak. But even as he was congratulating himself on her sweet capitulation, she was pulling back to suck in an unsteady breath.

“Wait.”

With a low growl, he pulled her back so he could bury his face in the curve of her neck.

“I have waited too long,
mon ange
.”

She shivered, but despite her obvious arousal she didn't melt beneath his irresistible touch.

Stubborn female.

“I'm worried about Levet.”

“Don't be.” He lightly ran his fang along the low neckline of her top, chuckling as she gave a strangled groan. “He can take care of himself.”

“You don't know that.”

“I know that no one interferes in Guild business.” He licked the racing pulse just below her jaw. “Not unless they want to end up dead.”

Her hands pressed against his chest. “You're not scared of the gargoyles, are you?”

“A challenge,
mon ange
?”

“A simple question.”

He reluctantly lifted his head to study her flushed face with a resigned amusement.

She wasn't going to let this go.

Which meant there was no comfortable mattress or lush female curves in his immediate future.

Not until he'd convinced her to forget Levet.

Something he sensed was going to be easier said than done.

“Paris belongs to me, but I have no desire to start an unnecessary turf war with the gargoyles,” he explained in gentle tones, his gaze absorbing the spectacular beauty of her passion-flushed face surrounded by a mane of golden curls. It was the soft blue eyes, however, that pierced his unbeating heart. She'd been to hell and back, but there was an innate purity in her that could never be diminished. Was it any wonder his jaded soul was so fascinated? “Enough blood was shed when I became clan chief.”

She blinked in surprise. He rarely shared his world as clan chief. Why burden her with the darker side of his position?

“You mean when you battled to take the place of the former leader?”

“
Oui
, and then for the next several decades after claiming Paris.”

She paled. “Decades?”

He grimaced. During those dark days he'd often wondered if he would survive from one night to the next.

“It's traditional for each demon species to try and kill the new leader of vampires.”

“Why?”

“In part because they enjoy any excuse to try and kill a vampire, but more importantly to make sure a chief is strong enough to keep control of his territory,” he explained. “A weak chief is an invitation for constant upheaval, not only among his clan, but from outside threats. Peace comes from strength.”

“And now?”

He arched a brow, belatedly sensing the tension that hummed through her body.

“Now?”

“Are you safe?”

“A clan chief is always a target,” he admitted, unable to resist outlining her lips with the tip of his finger. “Either from an ambitious vampire who wants to challenge me for my position, or from any number of demons who I've pissed off over the centuries.”

“Not hard to believe,” she muttered, although the words didn't disguise the concern that darkened her eyes.

“Most are convinced the world would be greatly improved if they could remove my head from my body.”

With a gasp, she pressed her hand against his lips, her expression troubled.

“Don't say that.”

A fierce satisfaction cascaded through his body at her plea. Gently, he pried her fingers from his lips.

“Careful, Valla,” he teased. “Or I might think you care.”

“Of course I care,” she said without hesitation. “I don't want you hurt.”

He pressed a kiss to her palm, his thumb stroking her inner wrist.

“Then you at last understand why I'm so anxious to protect you.”

She thinned her lips as he neatly turned the tables on her. “Maybe. But—”

Hmm. Perhaps he hadn't turned any tables. Neatly or otherwise.

“I don't think I'm going to like this.”

She pulled her hand free to touch his face, the light caress sending jagged bolts of arousal through his body.

He could count the number of times she'd ever purposefully touched him. And never with such a lingering intimacy.

“It terrifies me to know your position makes you a constant target,” she whispered.

He held her worried gaze. “It's my duty.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a nod. “And while I hate the thought that you're in danger, I would never try to stand in your way.”

The direct hit came without warning, leaving Elijah gaping at her in bemusement.

Hoisted by his own petard, he wryly acknowledged, recalling how often he'd tried to prevent her from even leaving her apartment without him at her side.

At the time, he'd thought he was revealing just how much he cared for her. Now . . .

“Is that what you think I'm trying to do?”

Her fingers drifted to brush over his lips, her expression somber.

“A partner should make you stronger, not weaker.”

She was right. Of course she was.

As much as he might hate to admit it, his rabid need to protect her was more about his constant knowledge of how close she had come to dying before they'd ever met, than keeping her happy.

Selfish even by his standards.

“Oh . . .
merde
,” he growled in resignation.

She eyed him warily as he stepped back to tug her shirt into place, his entire body screaming in frustration at the realization he wasn't going to get relief any time soon.

“Elijah?”

He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. “Let's go find that annoying gargoyle.”

Levet quivered as he continued to project his memories into his mother's unwilling mind, dangerously close to exhaustion.

Sacrebleu
. How much longer could he hold the spell?

The fear had barely had time to form when Berthe gave a low groan, her eyes wrenching open to stab him with a malevolent glare.

“Enough.”

Levet halted the memories, but retained control of the magical web that held his mother captive.

She wasn't looking nearly as impressed as he'd hoped.

“You have seen what I did?” he demanded.

“
Oui
.”

“And you acknowledge that I faced my enemy with courage?”

She pulled back her lips to emphasize her massive tusks. “I will admit you did not flee like a coward.”

Levet narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps we should begin again.”

“
Non
,” Berthe rasped, the heat of her fury filling the air. “You behaved with . . . courage.”

Levet scowled. He had stood before the most evil creature ever to have been created and refused to yield.

How many demons could claim such a feat?

None. That was how many.

He grimaced.
Non
. That wasn't entirely true. There had been others. But no gargoyles, he hastily reassured himself.

He alone had represented his species.

Which made him excessively special.

“Why is it so hard for you to admit?” he snapped.

Berthe glowered at him, her heavy brow furrowed. “I don't want you back in the Guild.”

Levet blinked. Well, that was . . . blunt.

“Why? Do you imagine I will somehow contaminate your precious nest?” He curled his snout in disdain. “I can assure you I have no intention of returning to the bosom of my dysfunctional family.”

She made a sound of shock, as if she couldn't imagine a creature not longing to be a part of her nest.

“Then why do you insist on being returned to the Guild?”

Levet smiled. When he'd traveled to Paris he hadn't truly known what was driving him.

Now he understood with perfect clarity.

“It's my right,” he said with simple honesty. “Now tell me why you're so reluctant to put my name on the Wall.”

Berthe clenched her jaw, clearly loath to confess the truth. Then, perhaps sensing that Levet was stubborn enough to keep her trapped until she shared, she gave a low curse.

“Because you make me . . . less.”

“Less what?”

She turned her head, as if unwilling to meet Levet's puzzled gaze.

“While you are shunned you are forgotten by my people. But with your name returned to the Wall it will be remembered that you are my son. I will be ridiculed for producing a—”

“A what?” he prompted, his curiosity overcoming his self-preservation.

A common occurrence.

“A freak,” she said with a shudder.

He flinched, feeling like he'd been slapped.

But why?

His mother had devoted his entire childhood to pointing out his numerous flaws. Until he'd nearly allowed her to convince him that he was deformed.

No more.

“I do not make you less,
Maman
dearest. You were born without a soul,” he informed her, his voice clear and perfectly steady. “And I thank the gods that I am different from you. My life has mattered. Truly mattered. You will never be able to say the same.”

Berthe blinked, almost as if his words had struck a nerve. But even as he leaned forward to savor the brief victory, she had twisted her ugly features into a scowl.

“Release me,” she commanded.

“You will give me what I demand?”

A low growl vibrated the air. “
Oui
,” she at last managed to spit out.

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Levet.”

Levet grimaced. He had no choice but to trust her word. One more second and he would collapse. Far better to allow her to think he'd released her out of the goodness of his heart.

“
Bien
. Let's go,” he said, dropping his hands as the threads of magic unraveled and then disappeared with an audible hiss. He had barely managed to suck in a weary breath when his mother was surging away from the wall, grasping his wing between her claws. “
Mon dieu
,” he squeaked, as she gave a mighty push with her legs, sending them crashing through the ceiling. “Slow down.”

“
Tais-toi
,” Berthe snarled, spreading her wings to soar across Paris at an impressive speed.

Dangling at an awkward angle, Levet heaved a resigned sigh.

When was he going to be treated like a hero?

It was all very annoying.

Within a few minutes, they landed at an isolated tributary that dumped into the Seine. There was a long-forgotten entrance to the sewers hidden by a powerful illusion, which Berthe stomped through, not even bothering to glance in Levet's direction.

Blowing a raspberry at her retreating back, Levet slowly followed in her wake. A task made easy by the cramped size of the tunnel that had been chiseled deep in the ground.

Taking full pleasure in watching his mother smack her head into the ceiling as she wrenched her large body through the doorway that protected the inner sanctum, Levet waddled in behind her.

The cavern was large, but empty beside a number of torches that spread a soft glow over the gray stone and the lone desk just a few feet from the door.

“Doyenne.” Rising from his seat behind the desk, a gargoyle several inches shorter than Berthe and built on far more slender lines, hurried forward.

Levet skipped out of the way as Emery performed a bow, deliberately ignoring Levet's presence.

Ah . . . the pleasure of being shunned.

Not that Levet wanted to be acknowledged by the fussy bureaucrat who always acted like he had a stick stuck up his
derrière
.

“Emery.” She waited until the Protector of the Wall straightened, her expression impatient. “I have an official pronouncement.”

The gargoyle blinked, his wings fluttering in sudden agitation.

“But . . . the elders.”

Berthe grabbed her companion by the horn, dragging him until they were snout to snout.

“Do you question my right to rule this nest?”

“
Non
, Doyenne,” the peon said anxiously.

“Then stand aside.”

Emery hastily scrambled back to his desk, his leathery wings pressed tightly against his body as he tried to make himself as small as possible.

Levet knew the feeling.

His mother was an expert at making a man wilt.

With a suitably dramatic motion, Berthe turned to face the far side of the room. She gave a wave of her hand, causing the torches to flare higher so the smooth wall was revealed.

Levet felt a tingle of ancient power rush over him, in awe, as always, at the sight of the ancient artifact.

An object of magic, the Wall of Memories defied all laws of physics to soar through the ceiling into an endless darkness. Not that Levet glanced up. Infinity always made him dizzy.

The names etched into the stone shimmered in the light, pulsing as if in time to each individual heartbeat.

Berthe waved her hand and the names shifted, as if she'd turned the page. Another wave, another page.

Silence filled the cavern as Berthe continued to search through the names, at last squeezing her hand shut to freeze the Wall.

Then, stepping forward, she pointed her claw at an empty space on the stone.

“I, Doyenne of the Ascaric nest, do hereby un-shun Levet, son of Berthe, to the Guild of Gargoyles. From this night forward he is to be accepted within the Guild with full rights and voting privileges.”

There was a faint gasp of disbelief from Emery, but Levet's attention was focused on the Wall as an unseen power skimmed over the stone, leaving behind his name etched in elegant script.

His chest swelled as pride filled his heart to overflowing.

He might be stunted. His magic might be . . . unpredictable.

And he might need a Dr. Phil intervention when it came to Yannah driving him batty, but he had done the impossible.

He was once again a full-fledged, card-carrying (okay, there wasn't actually a card) member of the Gargoyle Guild.

Life was good.

 

 

Valla allowed Elijah to escort her back toward her apartment with conflicted emotions.

On one hand, she was disappointed they'd been unable to find Levet. As good as Elijah might be at tracking, he couldn't fly, and while they'd hit most of the usual hangouts for gargoyles, they hadn't managed to catch Levet's scent.

She was desperately worried for the tiny gargoyle.

On the other hand she was breathlessly giddy with the transformation in Elijah.

She didn't know how or why, but for the first time he truly seemed to see her as a woman, not a victim. And not just in a physical sense, although his determined seduction had been spectacularly wonderful.

He'd actually listened to her when she'd complained he treated her as a child. And even gone against every instinct he possessed to allow her to enter the seedier parts of the city in an attempt to find Levet.

Oh, she wasn't an idiot.

She knew he could never share the intensity of her feelings.

He might genuinely desire her, but she would be nothing more than a passing distraction who would be swiftly forgotten when his attention was caught by a new lover, or by his true mate.

She ignored the pain that knifed through her heart.

She'd waited a long, long time for Elijah to even acknowledge her as a woman.

Why shouldn't she enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted?

They'd reached the boulevard that ran past her apartment, when Elijah grasped her elbow to pull her to a halt.

“Valla.”

She tilted back her head to study his pale, perfect face.

“What is it?”

He paused, as if considering his words. “It's growing late.”

Valla frowned. She didn't have the superior senses of a vampire, but she could tell time.

“There's still a couple of hours before dawn.”

“True, but—”

Hmm. Something weird was going on. But what?

“Elijah, is something wrong?”

He stepped forward, gently cupping her face in his hands as he allowed her to glimpse the hunger burning like an inferno in his eyes.

“If I return to your apartment it's going to be more than a couple of hours before I'm prepared to leave.”

A raw, primitive excitement rushed through her. “Oh.”

“
Oui
.” His thumb absently stroked the rough skin of her cheek, his gaze trained on her lips. “Oh.”

Valla didn't hesitate. Somewhere down the road her heart was bound to be broken, but if she'd learned nothing else it was to grasp happiness when it was offered.

“The apartment is built to protect a vampire,” she said, her voice husky. “You would be safe.”

He shuddered, his fangs glinting in the streetlight. “You understand what I'm saying?”

A shy blush stained her cheeks. “You want to become my lover.”

His hands tightened on her face, his expression stark as if he was gripped by a powerful emotion.

“Much more than your lover,
mon ange
. . .” he began, only to halt as he tilted back his head and tested the air. “
Merde
.”

“Danger?” she breathed, her gaze searching the shadows for an intruder.

“I smell gargoyle,” he muttered.

“Levet?” She pulled free of his grasp, heaving a sigh of relief. “Where?”

Far less enthused, Elijah jerked his head toward the narrow alley that led between the buildings.

“He just landed in the courtyard.”

Ignoring Elijah's grumblings, Valla turned to hurry through the alley.

“Thank god.”

 

 

Landing in the center of the courtyard, Levet was startled when he caught Valla's scent coming from the street rather than her apartment.

A momentary fear clutched his heart at the thought that the vulnerable young nymph had been out on the dangerous streets alone before the frigid pulse of power assured him that she was far from alone.

Entering the courtyard, the pretty female rushed to his side, her smile as brilliant as the lights that lined the Champs-Elysées.

“There you are,” she breathed. “I've been worried.”

“Forgive me,
ma belle
,” Levet said with genuine regret. He truly had not intended to upset his newest friend. “I had a long overdue appointment with my mother.”

“Are you okay?”

He smiled, his wings fluttering with pleasure. “I am perfect.”

“That's a matter of opinion,” Elijah muttered as he moved to stand beside Valla, his arm wrapping around her waist with an obvious intimacy.

Ah. That was a new development.

Levet blew a raspberry in the vampire's direction. “Not even you can spoil my mood, leech.”

Valla bent down so she could study his pleased expression, her hair shimmering like the purest gold in the moonlight.

“What happened?”

“I have been officially returned to the Gargoyle Guild,” he announced in grand tones.

She blinked. “And that's a . . . good thing?”

“But of course.”