Levet (2 page)

“Elijah,” Valla murmured in obvious pleasure.

Moving to stand at her side, the vampire studied Levet in obvious warning.

“Who is this?”

“I am Levet.” Levet performed a small bow, his wings spread to display their shimmering colors. “At your service.”

Rising, he met the vampire's hard stare. “I've heard of you,” Elijah said, his voice accusing.

Levet blinked at the odd words. “But of course you have heard of me. Who has not?” he demanded. “I am a warrior of great renown.”

The male thinned his lips. “What are you doing in Paris?”

Levet tilted his chin, refusing to acknowledge that he'd been thoroughly routed only minutes after arriving in town. It was a temporary setback.

“I am here on a spiritual journey.”

The vampire arched a dark brow. “Then you won't be staying?”

“Elijah.” Valla flashed a frown at her male companion before turning her attention to Levet. “Don't listen to him. He has a delusional theory he owns the streets of Paris.”

The vampire's icy power flowed through the room. Like a deluge of water that could drown the unwary.

“It's no delusion,” he said. Not arrogance. Just absolute confidence that he was master of his domain. “They do belong to me.”

“You are the clan chief?” Levet asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I am.”

“What happened to Pierre?” Levet referred to the clan chief that had ruled Paris when he'd been just a youngster.

Elijah flashed his massive fangs. “Let's just say that he decided to retire.”

“Really? I didn't know clan chiefs could retire.”

“It wasn't voluntary.”

Levet's tail twitched. “
Mon dieu
.”

The vampire took a threatening step forward. “Precisely.”

“Stop trying to frighten my guest,” Valla chided.

“
Oui
.” Levet tilted his chin. “Stop trying to frighten her guest.”

The cold, dark eyes narrowed. “Be careful, little demon. The gargoyles aren't your greatest danger in Paris.”

Valla rolled her eyes. “Come with me, Levet, and I'll make you some tea.”

Valla hid a smile as she led the tiny gargoyle down the hall to the kitchen that had recently been remodeled with pretty white cabinets and stainless steel appliances.

As much as she might love Elijah, it was always fun to poke a few holes in his massive arrogance and at the same time reestablish the boundaries that he continually tried to smash through.

Besides, she found that she enjoyed Levet's companionship.

She didn't feel threatened by his light flirtations. A rare and wonderful sensation after she'd been brutalized while held captive by the slavers. In fact, he was the only male beyond Elijah she'd ever invited into her home.

“This is your apartment?” Levet asked as he took a seat at the dining table and watched her put the kettle on to boil.

She pulled two cups from the cabinet and grabbed a plate of cookies.

“Elijah is kind enough to allow me to stay here.”

“No.” The rich male voice stroked over her like the finest satin. It didn't matter how many years she'd known Elijah, his voice always made her shiver. Well . . . her and every other woman in Paris, she wryly acknowledged. “Elijah grudgingly allows you to stay here because you've refused the number of other homes I've offered you,” he continued, as he prowled across the floor to gently tuck a curl behind her ear.

It was an ongoing fight.

Elijah insisted that she belonged in his lair near the Champs-Élysées.

Valla refused to give up her independence. It was bad enough he'd emphatically demanded that she live in one of his numerous properties.

“I won't take advantage of your generosity.”

His hand cupped her cheek, his gaze smoldering with a frustration that filled the air with a sharp chill.

“Valla.”

The touch of his lean fingers against her face sent an ache of long-suppressed hunger shivering through her body. Only this delectable, sexy, aggravatingly stubborn vampire could stir the desires she'd thought dead forever.

“There's no need for you to stay, Elijah,” she murmured in husky tones. “I know you must be busy.”

His brows furrowed, his eyes darkening as he easily sensed her reaction to his touch.

“You think I'll leave you alone with a strange demon?”

“The choice isn't yours,” she reminded him. Gently.

“Dammit, Valla.”

She heaved a sigh. It would be so easy to give in to his demands.

She would be protected, cosseted, her every need and desire fulfilled.

Just like a favorite pet.

“We've been through this before,” she reminded him, an edge of steel in her voice. “You're my friend, not my keeper. If you can't distinguish between the two, then I'll have to leave Paris.”

With a growl, he swooped his head down and kissed her.

Just like that.

Caught off-guard, her lips parted in helpless need, her entire world tilting on its axis. Elijah had always treated her like a fragile doll. Not a flesh-and-blood woman.

Now she quivered beneath the blazing pleasure that exploded through her quivering body.

“This is what I want,” he rasped against her lips, his fingers stroking down the tender curve of her neck before he kissed her again.

This time she was prepared for the combustible heat that stole her breath and made her stomach clench with a surge of excitement.

Oh . . . yes.

Her lashes fluttered downward as the desire flowed through her, as heady and intoxicating as the finest French champagne.

“Elijah—” she breathed, not certain what she needed, but knowing only he could satisfy the restless ache that burned deep inside her.

Then, the shrill whistle of the pot had her pulling back with a confused blush.

Still seated at the table, Levet awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Maybe I should leave?”

“Yes,” Elijah agreed, his dark gaze smoldering with a dangerous hunger.

“No,” she hastily countered, acutely aware that if she had been alone with Elijah she would have already ripped off his Gucci suit and had her wicked way with him. Not the best way to convince the crazily possessive man that she wanted to maintain her independence. She held the dark gaze. “Please, Elijah.”

His jaw tightened, but clearly sensing now was not the time to press her, he gave a grudging nod of his head.

“I'll make sure you weren't followed. But I'll return.” He sent Levet a warning glare. “Soon.”

Valla busied herself making the tea as Elijah turned to leave the apartment, taking with him the frosty disapproval and pulsing power.

She breathed a faint sigh of relief, carrying the tray to the table and taking a seat.

“A little on the possessive side, is he?” the tiny gargoyle asked.

She shrugged, sipping the tea with an odd sense of disorientation.

Something had changed.

She just wasn't sure what.

“He feels responsible for me,” she murmured absently.

Levet snorted, reaching for a cookie. “Responsibility isn't the only thing he feels.”

Heat stained her cheeks. “Maybe not. He is a male, after all, but—”

“But what?”

Her fingers lifted to trace the scars that marred her cheek.

“After I escaped from the slavers I just wanted to crawl away somewhere and hide.” She shivered at the painful memories. “I don't even remember how I made my way to France, but I was floating down the Seine on a rapidly sinking boat when Elijah found me and took me to his lair.”

“Ah.” His wings fluttered. “Your knight in shining armor.”

“Something like that.”

“And that's a bad thing?”

She hesitated, trying to put her nagging concern into words.

“Not bad,” she at last said. “He's like most clan chiefs.”

“Arrogant pain in the
derrières
?”

She gave a sudden laugh. The small demon really was a charming companion.

“I was going to say that he's obsessed with protecting the people he considers his duty.”

“Including you?”

“Elijah sees me as a damsel in distress, not a flesh-and-blood woman.” She grimaced. “I don't want to be rescued.”

The gray eyes held an unspoken sympathy. “What do you want?”

“What every woman wants.” She glanced toward the window overlooking the rose garden drenched in silver moonlight. “To be loved.”

Elijah made a sweep of the dark streets, pausing long enough to warn his lieutenants that the gargoyles were looking for trouble before heading back toward Valla's apartment.

He smiled wryly as his feet followed the familiar route.

If he had any pride, he'd be heading back to his own lair. There were, after all, hundreds of beautiful women who would be eager to indulge his every desire. Hell. He could stop on the nearest street corner and within minutes there were be a dozen females hoping to capture his attention.

But the pride that had once led him to battle the corrupt chief to take command of Paris had been lost the moment he'd discovered a half-dead nymph floating down the Seine.

Even now he could remember the shock of recognition as he'd carried her in his arms to his lair, her golden hair flowing over his arm and her stunning blue eyes dazed. He'd known that he'd been waiting for this woman from the moment he'd awoken as a vampire.

She was his destined mate.

Unfortunately, the aggravating female hadn't been prepared to accept her inevitable fate. And who could blame her?

She'd spent months being raped and tortured by animals before she'd managed to escape. And even then she'd nearly died. If it hadn't been for his healers she would be in her grave.

Was it any wonder she needed to keep the world at a safe distance?

Including him.

So he bided his time, taking what Valla would offer and all the while leashing his hunger by a very thin thread.

A thread that had nearly snapped tonight, he remembered with a stab of white-hot excitement.

The taste of her lips had been even sweeter than he'd fantasized.

As ripe as strawberries with a hint of honey.

And her response . . .

Merde
. Her desire had been every bit as eager as his.

If they'd been alone, he'd have taken her against the cabinets.

Instead he was walking the streets, still hard and aching with no immediate hope of relief.

His foul mood wasn't improved as he entered the shadowed courtyard to discover the small gargoyle standing beside the fountain.

“What are you doing out here?” he demanded.

The creature gave a flap of his fairy wings. “Trying to help you.”

Elijah arched a brow. He was the most feared predator in France, perhaps in all of Europe. Even Victor, the clan chief of England, approached him with care.

“You imagine you can help me?”

“I may be small, but my powers are mighty.”

Elijah couldn't resist. “So mighty that you're hiding in a nymph's apartment?”

Levet shrugged aside the insult, his polished tail playfully stirring the water that pooled at the base of the fountain.

“As you can imagine, I'm not a favorite among my people.” He shrugged. “But soon enough I will be reinstated into the Gargoyle Guild.”

“Hmm.” It couldn't be too soon for Elijah. Not that he was jealous of the gargoyle, he hurriedly assured himself. Of course he wasn't. Not even if Valla had shared her all-too-rare smile with the tiny demon. A smile she never shared with anyone but him. “And how do you propose to help me?”

“Beyond being a formidable warrior, I am also a favorite among females.”

Elijah rolled his eyes. “What you are is delusional.”

“Mock if you wish, but I can tell you that you have been a fool not to tell Valla how you feel.”

Elijah stiffened in shock. Every demon in Paris might know that he was panting after the elusive, beautiful nymph like a werewolf in heat, but not a damned one of them would have the balls to mention it.

Certainly not to his face.

“That is none of your business,” he said between clenched fangs.

“No, but I believe that Valla has earned a chance to be happy.”

His brows jerked together. “I have every intention of making her happy.”

Levet gave a lift of his hands. “Not unless you convince her that you don't consider her a burden.”

“A burden?” Elijah cast a brief glance toward the nearby door to Valla's apartment, making sure she couldn't overhear the bizarre conversation. “What the
diable
are you talking about?”

“She fears that you consider her to be just another responsibility that you must bear.”

Responsibility?

He'd all but gone on his knees to beg for a place in her life.

Hadn't he?

With a strange lack of his usual grace, he walked toward a window that offered a glimpse of Valla straightening the pillows on her froufrou couch.

As always he was struck by the stunning beauty of her golden hair that haloed her delicate features and the wide, guileless blue eyes. And that lush body . . .
mon dieu
, he'd spent endless hours imagining the feel of those curves beneath him.

But at the same time he couldn't deny a fierce urge to protect her.

She was so fragile. So exquisitely vulnerable. Had she mistaken his instinctive need to keep his mate from any possible harm with a sense of duty?

“That's—” He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “How can she be so foolish?”

The gargoyle joined him near the window. “Have you given her reason to think she means more?”

Of course not, he wryly conceded. He was a male. He didn't talk about his feelings. She was simply supposed to know what was in his heart.

“I need to speak with her,” he muttered, sending his companion a warning frown. “Alone.”

“
Naturellement
.”