Darkness Everlasting

She was already turning away when his hand reached out to grasp her arm. "Wait."



She frowned down at the dark, slender fingers on her arm. "What do you want?"



"Keep me company. I hate to drink alone."



Obviously Frick and Frack didn't count. "I'm on duty."



He pointedly glanced around the deserted bar. "No one seems in desperate need of your services. No one, but me."



Darcy heaved a sigh. She disliked being rude. It was bad for her karma. But this man clearly couldn't take a hint.



"If you're looking for companionship, I'm sure there are any number of women here who would be happy to drink with you."



"I don't want any number of women." Those golden eyes burned into hers. "Just you."



"I'm working."



"You can't work all night."



"No, but when I'm done I'm going home." She jerked her arm from his grasp. "Alone."



Something that might have been annoyance rippled over the fiercely handsome face.



"All I want is to talk to you. Surely you can offer me a few moments of your time?"



"Talk to me about what?"



He cast an impatient glance toward the crowd, which was growing rowdier by the minute. He didn't seem to appreciate the enthusiasm of multipierced, leather-drenched teenagers ramming full speed into each other.



"I would prefer that we go someplace a bit more private."



"I don't think so."



His expression hardened. Even more unnerving, the golden eyes seemed to suddenly glow with an inner light. As if someone had lit a candle behind them.



"I must speak with you, Darcy. I would prefer that our relationship remain cordial—you are after all a beautiful and tempting young woman—but if you make this difficult, then I am prepared to do whatever is necessary to have my way."



Darcy's heart clenched with a flare of sudden fear. "How do you know my name?"



He leaned forward. "I know a great deal about you."



Okay, this was going from weird to downright creepy. Gorgeous gentlemen in thousand-dollar suits with their own personal entourage did not stalk impoverished bartenders. Not unless they intended to kill and mutilate them.



Two things she hoped to avoid.



She took an abrupt step backward. "I think you had better finish your drink, collect your goons, and leave."



"Darcy..." His hand reached out as if he would physically force her to join him.



Thankfully his attention seemed to waver and his head turned toward the door.



"We have company," he growled toward Frick and Frack. "Deal with them."



On cue the two thugs charged toward the door with startling speed. The man rose from the bar stool to watch them leave, as if half expecting an army to come charging into the club.



It was enough for Darcy.



She might not be Mensa material, but she did recognize opportunity when it came a-knocking.



Whatever the man wanted from her it couldn't be good. The more distance she could put between them the better.



Dodging toward the far end of the bar, she ignored the man's sudden shout behind her. She didn't even bother glancing toward the crowd for help. A screaming woman in this place was just another part of the show.



Instead, she turned toward the back of the club. Just down the hall was a storage room with a sturdy lock. She could hide until one of the bouncers missed her from the bar. They could deal with the crazed stalker.



It was, after all, in their job description.



Concentrating on sounds of pursuit from behind, Darcy didn't notice the thick shadows ahead of her.



Not until one of the shadows moved to stand directly in her path.



There was a brief glimpse of a beautiful bronzed face and cold black eyes before the strange man spoke a single word and she was falling to the floor as the darkness engulfed her.



Chapter Two



Styx stood silent and unmoving beside the bed. He had stood in that exact position for over seventeen hours as he had kept watch on the woman sprawled in the center of the mattress.



A part of him knew his vigil was unnecessary. Not only was Viper's estate isolated, but it possessed a security system that would shame Fort Knox. His prisoner couldn't so much as sneeze without him knowing.



Strangely, however, he found himself lingering.



It couldn't be because of the slender, nearly fragile female body curled on the gold comforter. Or the heart-shaped face that looked unbearably innocent as she slept. Or the ridiculously spiked hair that laid bare the sweet curve of her ear and temptingly long sweep of her neck.



He was not so desperate that he need ogle a woman while she lay unconscious.



It was quite simply because he desired to be near when she awakened, he told himself sternly. She would no doubt scream and cry and create general havoc.



She was human, after all.



It's what they did.



A much more palatable explanation, he acknowledged as he carefully tugged a blanket over her slender form.



He had just stepped back when he sensed that she was battling through the enthrallment he had placed on her.



She shifted beneath the covers, her body stiffening as she realized that he had removed her shirt and miniskirt to make her more comfortable. He had, of course, left on her lacy black panties and bra. Humans were odd about such things.



Waiting patiently as she returned to consciousness, Styx at last frowned when she continued to lie on the pillow with her eyes closed. She was awake, but pretending to be asleep, he realized.



Foolishness.



He stepped forward and bent until he was whispering directly into her ear.



"I know that you are awake. This pretense is a waste of both our time."



She pressed deeper into the pillow and tugged the blanket to her chin. Still her eyes remained tightly closed.



"Where am I? Who are you?"



"I cannot speak with you in this manner," he chastised even as the scent of her filled his senses.



She smelled of fresh flowers. And hot blood.



A startling erotic combination.



He swallowed a groan as his muscles clenched in response.



"If I keep my eyes closed, then I can pretend that this is all some nightmare that will go away," she muttered.



"I may be a nightmare, but I fear I am going nowhere."



He waited a beat. When she still refused to cooperate, Styx shifted to press his lips to hers.



The large green eyes abruptly snapped open, the beautiful depths shimmering with surprise.



"Hey," she breathed. "Stop that."



Styx took a sharp step backward. Not because of her protest. He was the Anasso. His will was all that mattered. He stepped back quite simply because he wanted to linger.



He wanted to feel her heat and scent wrap about him. He wanted to taste her lips and sink his fangs deep into her flesh.



It was not only distracting; it was damn inconvenient.



"I have brought you sustenance." He pointed toward the tray on the nightstand.



The green gaze regarded the large plate of fresh ham, scrambled eggs, and toast with open disdain. "You intend to feed me before raping and mutilating me? Very thoughtful."



"You possess a most vivid imagination," he drawled. "Eat and then we will talk."



"No."



Styx frowned. No was not a word that was used in his presence. Not by anyone.



Certainly not by a tiny waif that he could squash with one hand.



"Being stubborn will harm no one but you. You must be hungry."



She gave a small shudder. "I'm starving, but I won't eat that."



"There is nothing in it that will harm you."



"There's meat."



He regarded her with a hint of confusion. He had never spent a great deal of time with mortals. They provided blood, and occasionally sex. Nothing that would offer him insight into their rather peculiar minds.



"I understood that most humans consume meat."



She blinked, as if words had somehow startled her. "Not this human. I'm a vegetarian."



"Very well." Centuries of training allowed him to keep his temper in check. He had expected the woman to be nothing but trouble, and it seemed he wasn't to be disappointed. Gathering the tray, he crossed the room and opened the door to hand it to a waiting Raven. "Please bring Ms. Smith something . . . vegetarian," he commanded.



Closing the door, he turned to find the woman sitting up in the bed with the blanket wrapped firmly about her. A pity, that. He had discovered over the past hours he liked looking at her body.



"Where am I?" she rasped.



"At a small estate north of the city." He moved back to stand beside the bed.



Her beautiful lips thinned. "Well that tells me precisely nothing. Why am I here?"



Styx folded his arms over his chest. The woman seemed to forget she was his prisoner. He would be the one in charge of any interrogations.



"What do you recall of last evening?" he demanded.



She blinked at his abrupt tone, her slender shoulder rising in a vague shrug.



"I was working at the bar and some man with his two goons started to harass me." Her eyes narrowed. "I was on my way to the storeroom when you ... did whatever it is you did to me."