Besides, it gave him the perfect excuse to keep Darcy wrapped in his arms.
Squealing with delight, the tiny gargoyle hopped behind the steering wheel and revved the engine as Styx commanded to be taken to his private lair. Styx settled in the passenger seat with Darcy carefully cradled in his lap. She fit perfectly, of course, with her head snuggled in the curve of his shoulder and her tiny bottom pressed against his stirring erection.
He would endure a lot more than a hair-raising trip through the dark streets of Chicago for such utter contentment, he decided.
Laving his cheek on the top of her head, he breathed deeply of her sweet scent and ruefully considered how the mighty were fallen. His once haughty dignity and cold logic were replaced with stunted gargoyles and stubborn angels. Even worse, he was now more or less related to a mangy pack of werewolves.
And he didn't even have the sense to care.
Pulling Darcy closer, Styx closed his eyes as Levet managed to take out a street sign and an unfortunate mailbox that was stupid enough to be on the sidewalk.
They had driven (if anyone could call the reckless swerving actually driving) for nearly half an hour when Darcy suddenly lifted her head to study the sleepy suburbs they were passing through with alarming speed.
"Where are we going?" she demanded.
"To my lair. My true lair south of the city."
She sent Styx a searching gaze. "Why aren't we returning to Dante's?"
"Because as soon as we arrive Shay and Abby will be nagging to fuss and flutter over you. I'll be lucky if I'm even allowed a glimpse of my own mate until they're satisfied you are unharmed. I'm a selfish beast and I want to spend the next few centuries having you completely to myself."
"Ah." She readily snuggled her head back onto his chest, a satisfied smile curving her lips. "How far away is it?"
Styx gently massaged her neck as his mouth touched the satin skin of her temple. "Several hours with Level's creative driving. I believe you will have ample time for a nap." He lowered his voice. "Trust me, your nerves will be eternally grateful if you can manage to sleep through the trip."
"Hey..." the gargoyle began to protest only to break off as he was forced to swerve to avoid a hapless garbage can.
Darcy chuckled as she hid her face and clung tight. "Perhaps you're right."
Concentrating on the sweet warmth he cradled in his arms, Styx managed to hold his tongue and, astonishingly, his temper as the gargoyle took out a final street sign and they were roaring down the road that would lead them to Styx's private lair. There were fewer objects to hit, thank God. Nothing beyond a few small pine trees and the occasional culvert.
Near three hours later, Levet screeched to a halt before the fading white farmhouse. Although it was in far better repair than the hotel Salvatore had chosen for his lair in Chicago, Styx couldn't deny that it was nothing in comparison to the lairs of Dante and Viper. Not unless someone preferred the silence of the countryside and the more natural beauty of rolling hills, dogwood trees, and the mighty Mississippi.
He dismissed the vague regret he didn't possess the sort of lavish, sprawling home that would impress his new mate. After living for years on the streets, and in cramped apartments, he suspected she would be delighted to be given the opportunity to choose the house of her dreams.
Besides, while the caves below the house might be dark and dismal, for now they provided just what he desired. Absolute safety and the sort of secluded privacy that wouldn't be interrupted.
His Ravens would arrive before dawn, and no one, absolutely no one, would be allowed to pass the threshold.
Careful not to waken the woman in his arms, Styx slipped from the car.
"Return to Viper and assure him that we are well. I will speak with him in a few days," he commanded before a faint smile touched his lips. "Oh, and Levet..."
"Oui?"
His gaze deliberately shifted to the gleaming car that now sported several dings and scratches, not to mention one very large dent in the bumper.
"You might consider leaving Illinois before Viper can get a good look at his car. He's killed for less."
The gargoyle's gray skin became downright ashen. For all of Viper's smooth sophistication, he possessed a temper that was a wonder to behold. He also possessed an obsessive love for his expensive collection of cars.
A combination that boded ill for the tiny demon.
Clearly sensing his own danger, Levet swallowed heavily.
"I will admit I've had a most overwhelming urge to visit the West Coast," he said shakily. "December in Chicago is always so dismal."
"A fine notion."
Chuckling beneath his breath at the thought of Viper's reaction to his beautiful Jag, Styx entered the house and headed directly to the cellars. From there it was an easy matter to open the secret panel that led to the vast caves that tunneled beneath the bluffs.
His footsteps never faltered despite the inky blackness and confusing maze of caverns. He could find his way through the tunnels blindfolded.
A decided chill entered the air as he traveled deeper beneath the earth and an undeniable dampness that made Darcy shiver even in her sleep.
A frown touched his brow as he altered his course. His own chambers were starkly barren and more suitable for a troll than a young woman. The previous Anasso, however, had preferred to surround himself with luxury. Darcy would at least be comfortable.
Resisting the urge to grimace, he entered the large cavern and crossed to lay Darcy on the four-posted bed draped in crimson and gold. With care he settled his lovely burden on the middle of the vast mattress and covered her with a blanket. Then, overcoming his natural aversion, he moved to strike a match to the logs in the enormous fireplace.
Once he was certain the blaze would last several hours he pulled off his heavy cape and returned to the bed. He was weary, but as he stretched out beside his mate he discovered the pleasure of studying her pale, perfect face was far preferable to sleep.
Rolling onto his side, he resisted the urge to stroke the soft skin of her cheek.
An unnecessary sacrifice as her eyes fluttered open and she regarded him with a sleepy smile.
"Styx?"
"Yes, my angel?"
"Are we at your lair?"
He smiled, giving in to his impulse to lightly cup her cheek in his hand. "This is it, at least for the moment."
She scooted up on the high bank of pillows, the movement pressing her slender body closer to his. Searing heat rushed through his blood at the contact.
"You intend to move?" she demanded.
Styx struggled to control the surge of pure lust. Having Darcy in his bed was a temptation he would never be able to ignore.
"Whenever you are ready we will choose a new lair together," he promised.
Her eyes widened before she gave a soft chuckle. "House shopping?"
"Why does that make you smile?"
"I don't know." She shifted so she was directly facing him. A move that Styx approved of whole-heartedly. "It just seems a little . . . domestic for such a fearsome vampire."
"Oh, I intend to remain fearsome." he growled, his arms encircling her so he could pull her close. "At least in some ways."
She smiled, a wicked shimmer in her eyes as she reached up to begin tugging his hair free of its braid.
"And what ways would those be?"
With a smooth motion he was tugging her sweatshirt over her head and ridding her of the jeans that were annoyingly in his path. Her scraps of satin underwear were soon piled on the floor beside the rest of her clothes.
"I think I prefer action to words," he whispered against her temple, his hands already skimming her bare skin with impatient need.
Her breath caught as his lingers cupped the softness of her breast. "I always did like a man of action," she said in a husky tone.
Styx fully intended action. A great deal of action that would leave them both sated and exhausted.
But as her hands lifted to his shoulders, he found himself gazing down at her for a long moment simply appreciating the sight of her flushed face and eyes darkened by desire. There was nothing more beautiful, more precious in the world than this woman. She had become his very reason for existence.
His heart squeezed with that strange, overwhelming tenderness that only Darcy could manage to stir.
A tenderness that even his closest companions would swear didn't exist.
"Darcy... my angel."
Lowering his head, he claimed her willing lips in a soft kiss. He didn't possess Dante's flamboyant sense of romance, or Viper's poetic nature. He didn't have the words to tell Darcy just what she meant to him, so he would have to show her.
He deepened his kiss, savoring the taste of her as his hands explored her slender curves. She was so tiny, so terribly fragile, but there was strength in her body as she arched firmly against him and dug her nails into his shoulders.
Careful of his fangs he slipped his tongue between her lips. Darcy gave a low moan as she abruptly began tugging off his shirt so she could run her hands over his chest and down to the waistband of his leather pants. Styx readily pulled back to assist her. Together they managed to get him naked and, with a deep sigh of approval, settled between her legs.
