"He said that he couldn't tell me because you would kill me if you discovered the truth."

"He claimed that I would kill you? The bastard." He struggled to sit up, no doubt prepared to leap from the bed and seek out the Were. An obvious mistake, for he gave a sharp gasp and collapsed back on the bed. "Damn ..."

Worried that Styx had further injured himself. Darcy propped herself on her elbow and peered down at him with concern.

"What can I do to help? I know of any number of herbs that will ease your pain."

His harsh features miraculously softened as he leached up to touch her cheek.

It never failed to amaze her that such a large, formidable man could be so gentle.

"I fear herbs have no effect on vampires."

She grimaced as she realized how ridiculous her offer had been. "No, I don't suppose they would. You need blood."

He slowly nodded, pain still etched around his eyes. "Yes."

Darcy sucked in a deep breath, not giving herself time to consider the dangerous thought that popped into her mind.

If she did, she would no doubt bolt from the room and never look back.

"Is fresh blood better than the bottled?"

His expression was wary as he cupped her cheek. "It is better, but not necessary. I will heal."

"But you would heal faster with fresh blood?"

He gave a sharp hiss. "Angel..."

"Would you?" she pressed.

"Do not offer, Darcy." He closed his eyes as a shudder wracked his body. "You do not truly want this, but I am far too weak to resist temptation."

"You are not allowed to tell me what I truly want," she protested, although she couldn't deny there was some truth in his words.

It wasn't that she feared he would hurt her by taking blood. Heck, what was a little pain for a good cause? Instead, she remembered all too clearly just how pleasurable it could be.

And she had to accept that there was a deep, dark longing inside her that wanted to feel that pleasure again.

His eyes slowly opened as his lips curled in a weak smile. "Forgive me. I do not mean to offend your feminist heart, but there is no need for you to make such a sacrifice. I will send one of the Ravens for blood."

Darcy met his gaze squarely. She was not a subtle person. She was more the "call a spade a spade" kind of person.

"Styx, do you want my blood or not?"

His eyes widened, but he couldn't disguise the tension in his body or the swift lengthening of his fangs.

Oh yeah, he wanted.

"Gods ..." he whispered, his hand shifting to the back of her head. "If you knew how much I want you, you would be running from me in terror."

Darcy thought she might have been doing just that if her own body hadn't been playing traitor.

The heat sizzling in the air between them wasn't just coming from Styx.

She was putting out more than her fair share.

Watching the emotions ripple over her face, Styx tugged her head downward, his touch so light that Darcy knew she could pull away at any moment.

She expected him to go directly for her neck. He was a vampire, after all. Instead, his mouth found hers and she gave a soft moan as his tongue slipped between her lips.

Yow. Yow. Yow.

The man hadn't wasted his last two thousand years. At least not in the kissing department. His lips were gentle, but there was an urgency in his touch, a restrained hunger, that made her feel fiercely desired.

A feeling that was all too rare.

Leaning into his chest, Darcy grabbed the long braid and began tugging the thick strands loose. Just once she wanted to see him draped in the satin length.

His hands slid down her back, caressing the small swell before cupping her hips, and without warning he flipped her until she landed on top of his hard body.

She pulled back with a small gasp. "You must be careful. Your injury."

A slow smile curved his lips as his hands slipped beneath her robe to stroke a path of searing heat over her skin.

"Angel, it's going to take more than an arrow in the chest to stop me from enjoying you in my arms," he said huskily.

Chapter Eight

Styx growled deep in his throat.

The pain and weakness still plagued him, but they were forgotten as the delectable heat of Darcy was draped over his body.

His hands impatiently traced over her satin skin as he nibbled his way down the length of her jaw. His hunger screamed through his body, but he forced himself to relish each sweet kiss, each nip with his teeth, and stroke with his hands.

Her tender heart had led her into his arms this night. Who knew if he would ever have such an opportunity again.

He had to savor every moment.

And savor. He traced the line of her vein down her throat with his tongue. And savor. His hands impatiently tugged off her heavy robe and tossed it onto the floor. And—he pulled her legs until she straddled his aching erection—savor.

Her breath caught as he pressed his hardness against her. Styx stilled as he prepared for her to pull back in rejection. Her body was soft and eager, but he knew humans well enough to know that they often denied themselves what they most desired.

There was a tense pause that felt like an eternity to Styx before she buried her face in his hair and moved her hips in a tantalizing invitation.

"Darcy." He managed to rip off the shreds of his shirt to feel her heat against him before angling his head and allowing his fangs to slip smoothly through her soft flesh.

She gasped in startled pleasure, and with delicate care Styx sipped her precious blood.

Life flowed through his body, healing his wounds and stirring sensations that made him shiver with need.

It was a need that went beyond nutrition. Beyond healing. Even beyond sex.

This was a need that came from a place deep inside him that he had forgotten he possessed.

Moaning at the feel of her fingers smoothing through his hair, Styx allowed his hands to trail over the curve of her bottom to the softness of her inner thighs.

Her skin was warm and smooth as satin as his fingertips traced down to the back of her knees, and then, back to the juncture between her legs.

"Gripes," she hissed as he allowed a finger to dip into her moistness.

Retracting his fangs, Styx licked the small wounds closed and allowed his lips to trail down her neck and over her shoulder. By the gods, she tasted of innocence. The sort of innocence that came from the soul and heart. It was an erotic temptation that could drive a vampire to madness.

"Angel, I want to be inside you. I want to feel you wrapped about me," he said in a husky tone.

"Yes." Her face pressed into his neck and her hot breath sent a jolt of bliss down his spine. "Yes, I want that too."

He meant to say something romantic and charming, but he managed no more than a low growl as she gave his neck a sharp nip with her teeth. Desperate desire coursed through his body as he slipped his finger into her wetness and used his other hand to undo his pants and hastily yank them out of his way.

In this moment he wasn't the skilled vampire lover who offered pleasure with a remote detachment. He was just a man who was desperate to be inside a woman who was making him frantic with desire.

"Angel. I cannot make this last." he whispered, kissing a path down her collarbone and over the swell of her breast.

Her fingers yanked at his hair, the small pain only increasing his fevered passions.

"Then don't," she commanded in a hoarse tone.

He didn't. Capturing her nipple in his mouth, he allowed his fangs to gently press into her skin even as he shifted her over his erection and slid deep into her heat.

Darcy gave a startled gasp. Her head arched back as her fingernails dug into his shoulders.

Styx paused to give her a moment to adjust.

And a moment to gather his own control.

Nothing had ever felt so good as being thrust in her body, her wet tightness squeezing him until he feared he might not last more than a stroke.

Waiting until she began to move her hips of her own will, Styx caught her slow rhythm and rocked himself ever deeper. His eyes closed as the pleasure surged through his body. The heat, the scent, the feel of her was cloaking him in a dark bliss.

"Styx ..." she whispered, her breath coining in small pants.

He sucked deeper of her blood, clutching her hips in his hands as he stroked into her over and over. There was no sound but the meeting of their flesh and her low moans of pleasure. Outside the Ravens would be keeping watch and the gargoyle was no doubt causing some sort of havoc.

In this room, however, the world had disappeared and there was nothing but this woman who was becoming far too necessary to his life.

Opening his eyes to watch Darcy moving above him, Styx quickened his pace. He could sense her hovering climax. It was near. So near.

Just for a moment he was distracted by the sheer beauty of her face caught in the throes of pleasure. The softly flushed features. The eyes darkened and half closed. The lips parted in passion. It was a sight he wanted branded into his mind for all eternity.

She gave a small scream as the orgasm overwhelmed her and the soft clenching around his erection tumbled him sharply over the edge.

The release hit him with shocking force.