Moonlight and Diamonds & The Vampire's Fall (15 page)

“I'll take you up on that offer,” he said. “But tell me this. What if you don't get your pills?”

“Then my wolf will come out, and...I'll have to face it.”

He hugged her against him, feeling her tiny shiver. She didn't want that. He would love to see her unleashed and wild. But he knew such a release wasn't in Blyss Sauveterre's nature. If he respected her, he'd allow her to be the woman she felt she needed to be.

He tilted his back against the sofa cushion and closed his eyes. It was nice sitting here with her, holding her, feeling her heartbeats against his chest. Comfortable.

A wrong comfort.

So why did it feel so right?

* * *

Stryke woke with Blyss in his arms. They'd crawled into bed with a few kisses, but hadn't undressed because sex hadn't been important. Closeness had been. He must have slept the whole night with her hand clasped in his. Generally he tossed and turned. Last night had been peaceful.

What was up with him and his inability to simply walk away from this impossible woman? He liked her. He needed to remain cautious with her. He understood the reasons for why she did what she did. And that allowed the caution to slip away. He wanted to hold her whenever she would allow it. And snuggle up to her and feel her delicate warmth relaxed against him.

Could he be falling in love? He'd fallen in love a few times. With human women. It had happened quickly, and he'd enjoyed the feeling, but inside he had always known that it could never last. Love didn't have to mean forever. People came together all the time, fell in love and then drifted apart. It was how the world worked. And he'd known from the start this particular relationship had an expiration date.

Sure, werewolves married human. But it took a strong human woman to accept a man who, once a month, shape-shifted into a man/wolf creature and who liked to race through the forest, howl at the moon and even track, kill and eat small animals.

And there were his werewolf's heightened sexual desires. He simply demanded more from a woman in bed. Of which, Blyss had responded beautifully. It was probably because she was wolf. Sort of wolf. Even though she took pills to suppress the wolf, her true nature had to exist within her. There was no changing that.

Was there?

He'd love to bring out the wolf in her. But he didn't want to force her. So that meant he had to accept her as she preferred to be. He could do that. Maybe. Could he? Did he have a chance at a long-term relationship with this woman?

He stroked her hair down her back. Soft morning light glittered on her pale skin.

He suspected even if things did work out with them, it could never last. His home was in Minnesota. Her home was Paris. She'd made it very clear she wasn't up for the country cottage and the kids.

Or the happy ending.

Though maybe one or two kids? They could grow up bilingual and have the manners of a city slicker yet the instincts and call to the wild.

What was he doing? Already planning children with her? If Blyss could read his thoughts she'd laugh and toss back her gorgeous tousle of hair.

No, she was one classy glamour girl. Wolf or not, she belonged at cocktail parties dressed in fabulous gowns and dripping with diamonds. He could never give her the luxury, of which she expected and thrived upon.

So he wouldn't allow his heart to make the leap. That big leap into love that he knew lingered so close. It would be difficult. He was more suited for difficulties such as facing down demons with claws bared and yeah, even the occasional couch-talk-down with a brother who had just been dumped and wanted to punch everything in sight.

He leaned in and kissed the line of Blyss's shoulder blade through the white blouse. She smelled like a flower, of which he would never learn its name. The whole room smelled like a garden. He wondered if whatever flower it was would grow in Minnesota. If so, he'd plant a whole field for her in hopes to win her everlasting affection.

“Morning already?” she whispered and rolled onto her back.

He kissed her forehead and swept away the hair from her face. She wasn't wearing makeup and her green eyes sparkled as if stars. He liked her natural and soft. Unguarded. She seemed more vulnerable, yet also stronger. Because this was simply Blyss unhampered by the mask of makeup and jewels.

“You're beautiful, glamour girl,” he said. “I like waking up next to you.”

“Could you imagine waking next to the same person for decades?” she whispered, closed her eyes. “I can.”

“I can, too.” He turned onto his back, staring up through the windows. Clasping her hand, he held it over his stomach. “I might have to run out to do a job for Rhys today. But if I'm not busy I'd like to hang around here. If that's cool with you?”

“I do have some business at the gallery. Insurance stuff regarding
Le Diabolique
. But that can wait until you leave. I'd offer to make you breakfast and we could have a romantic tête-à-tête, but I suspect there's nothing in the fridge.”

“Not after yesterday. I'll run out for those
pains au chocolat
that all the women seem to like. Maybe some chai, too. I miss that stuff. Usually drink it every day at home.”

“Tell me about your life back in Minnesota. I don't know much about you.”

He kissed her and sat up, stretching out a kink with a twist of his back. “I'll fill you in on all the boring details over breakfast. Mind if I hop in the shower quick?”

“Go ahead. Grab some fresh towels from the closet. I'm going to linger in your warmth.”

She spread a hand across the sheet where he had sat. Stryke wouldn't have been surprised if a purr had accompanied her kittenish move.

“You make lingering look so damn gorgeous.” He strolled into the closet and at sight of the regimented contents let out an appreciative whistle. “Wow.”

“Oh, that's the wrong closet,” Blyss called. “The towels are in the other one on this side of the bed.”

“No kidding?” He took in the rows and rows—and rows—of shoes in the closet that was as large as a living room. The woman had a serious shoe addiction. He backed out, the awe setting him slightly off-kilter as he stumbled into the bedroom. “You have a room just for shoes.”

She nodded and tucked the sheet up around her smile.

“How many do you own?”

An innocent shrug. “Hundreds?”

Again he couldn't resist a whistle. Women and their shoes. It was some kind of sacred thing he would never understand. Shaking his head, he found the right closet, grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom.

An hour later, they sat in the living room finishing off the flaky pastries. The patisserie had also offered chai with fresh cream, much to Stryke's thrill. He'd brought some for Blyss, who had never tried it.

“Good stuff, right?” He liked his spiked with extra clove.

“
Exquis.
You've made me a convert from coffee.”

“I'll show you how to make it homemade. I have a secret spice blend recipe that will knock you off your feet.”

She bobbed one of her crossed legs, the pink marabou-fluffed slipper dusting the air. Totally
Green Acres
. But he wouldn't tell her that. He didn't mind looking at those gorgeous ankles and the pretty things with which she liked to decorate her feet.

“So you wanted to know about my exciting life?” he prompted.

“It has to be more interesting than mine. Trust me, it may look glamorous, but I can only drink so many glasses of champagne and chatter about the latest designer's affair with a supermodel so many times before I want to gag.”

“Try chopping wood and digging six-foot-deep holes in the ground for a fence I've been putting in around my property.”

“Don't they have a machine that can do that for you?”

“Sure, but I like the manual labor. And...I've not a job, so it keeps me busy.”

“You've no desire to hold a job?”

“Not really. I shouldn't say that. I did attend the police academy. Had big dreams of protecting and serving and all that jazz.”

“But?”

“But the idea of starting out behind a desk and answering phone dispatch calls turned me off real fast. And I realized I couldn't be happy wearing a gun at my hip and protecting humans. I'm more interested in working with my own breed. No offense against humans. I get along with them fine. Have to. But your brother's job does interest me.”

“Perhaps you could establish an enforcement team back home?”

“Your brother suggested the same thing, and I'm liking the idea. As soon as I get that fence in. Gotta keep the coyotes out of my chicken coop.”

“Really? You don't get along with that breed?”

“Not the mangy bunch I've got lurking about the farm. Tried scaring them off with my werewolf one night and they ran, but came right back. Idiots. But I won't trap them. That's cruel. Once I get the fence up I'll hang some bright flags on it and that'll keep them away.”

“Living on a farm sounds like a lot of work.”

“Probably a lot less work than trying to keep up appearances for the rich and snooty,” he commented without thinking. And then he did think. “Oh. Er, I, uh...”

Blyss sighed. “I get it. But rich and snooty is all I know.”

“I'm sorry.” His cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. An unknown number. “Excuse me. I should check this.”

Blyss finished the last sips of chai as he talked.

“Hey, Kir, good to hear from you. What's up? A lead? Yes, I can meet you. Uh, not my place. You can pick me up at your sister's place. See you in ten.”

He hung up.

“I suppose Kir is over the moon that I've a werewolf lover,” Blyss commented, but she said it with a smile.

“I think he's too polite to make a comment like that. He cares about you, Blyss.”

“I know that. I wish I could see him more often, but he has to come to me. I won't go near the pack. So what are you two up to now?”

“Kir has a lead on demon activity. We're going to drive over and check it out. You okay to be alone?”

“Of course,” she answered quickly. “But will you call me later?”

“I will.” He kissed her and then lingered at her mouth, his lips barely touching hers. “You taste like chai. Mmm, I could drink you. Can we do a date night? After I get back from this, and I might have that thing to do for Rhys, but later, can we do something together?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“I still haven't found time to see the Eiffel Tower.”

“How about a dining cruise? You board right in front of the tower, eat and drink as you cruise down the river. Then you arrive back at the tower just as it lights up for the evening. It's a little touristy but I've always been fascinated by the idea of cruising the Seine at night. I'll make a reservation.”

“Sounds cool. I'll see you later. Do I have to dress up?”

“A suit might be— Uh, no. Just be yourself.” She hooked a finger under his jeans' waistband. “I like you in jeans. Especially when they sit low and show your muscles.”

“But a suit would be more appropriate?”

“Those cruises are filled with all sorts, from locals looking for a fancy evening out to tourists in jeans and sweatshirts. I'll even dress down. Nothing sparkly or glittery. Promise.”

“I kind of like you sparkly. Make the shoes sparkly, okay?”

“Now, that I can manage.”

His kiss wrapped about her heart with a tangible hug. Blyss didn't want the feeling to end, so she followed him down the hallway, lips locked and feet stumbling as he walked backward. Stryke's back hit the front door. Blyss stepped up on tiptoes and tasted him deeply. She never wanted to lose the taste of him.

Her werewolf lover.

Chapter 16

T
he lead Kir had provided led the men to traverse the sewers of Paris. Stryke shook his head at his incredible luck. He'd seen some seedy parts of the city while here. Guess the City of Love wasn't so romantic once you peeled back its layers. But he didn't mind. The aqueducts were fascinating. He knew they'd been in existence for centuries and was instantly thankful for modern-day plumbing.

They walked along the river, underground, the city above them. The stone aqueduct ceiling arched over this narrow section that was more sewer than actual river, as Kir explained.

“These aqueducts maze all under the city,” Kir said, noting Stryke's interest. “And don't get me started on the underground tunnels that twist and twine some seven stories below the city.”

“Really? Deeper than the demon lair we found? That's cool.”

“There's a whole legion of humans that call themselves cataphiles, who explore, party and even live beneath the depths of Paris. Some of the demons who are incapable of pulling on a humanlike glamour also live underground. You don't want to mess with those horns.”

“I imagine not. So this is a gang of demons you've heard that are stealing valuable artifacts?”

“We call them denizens,” Kir said. “Large groups of demons that follow one particular leader. Like a vampire tribe or a werewolf pack. This particular denizen is headed by a wraith.”

“Is a wraith actually a demon? I thought wraiths were ghosts or spirits.” Stryke ducked to pass under a particularly low section of ceiling formed by arched limestone.

Kir came out on the other side and stopped before a rusted iron door that had a big red symbol drawn on it.

“A wraith demon moves like a ghost but it's solid and deadly. It's powerful and wields some wicked talons. No lower jaw, either,” Kir added. “Nasty things. So you got any weapons on you? Salt?”

Stryke shook his head and chuckled. What kind of idiots walked into a demon nest unarmed? “You got me, man. I'm so unprepared for this mess I stumbled into in Paris.”

“I suspect you probably didn't stumble so much as fell under my sister's allure. You must really like Blyss to be doing this, Saint-Pierre.”

“It might be more than that.”

“Right. You said you're looking to start a pack. You think hooking up with a werewolf who denies her heritage is such a wise move?”

“I know Blyss likes her men rich and
human
. But right now I've got her attention and we're having some fun together. She deserves whatever I can do to help her out of this situation.”

“Damn, I wish you lived in Paris. You'd be good for my sister.”

“I don't think she'd care for my idea of living in the country. In fact, she's already made it very clear she would not.”

“She is abrupt.” Kir rapped the door, avoiding the red marking. “This is a demon sigil drawn in...” He sniffed at the red mark. “...human blood.”

“Nice,” Stryke said with no appreciation whatsoever.

“I think it best if we stay as far from the nest as possible but get close enough to see if we can pick up a scent trail,” Kir said. “You'd recognize the scent, yes?”

“Of course. I'm still thinking about our lack of weapons, though. How to fight a demon?”

“Move fast, and if you can help it, don't bite them. Demon blood won't kill us but it is nasty.”

“Got it. So are we going to shift?”

“Much as I'd like to, I think it's wiser to keep our wits about us.”

“Yeah? My wits are fine when I'm shifted. If we're overwhelmed, I've got your back, but it's going to be in werewolf form. I can promise you that.”

“Deal.”

“You want to lead the way?”

Kir stepped aside and gestured toward the door. “I thought I'd give you that pleasure since you're the guy with the nose.”

“Sure thing.” Stryke tilted his head side to side, snapping the kinks out of the muscles. With a shrug of his shoulders he bolstered up his courage.

Thing was, all the courage in the world wouldn't save him from a creature who served a wraith or even the devil Himself. He flexed his fingers, feeling the tingle of his werewolf
right there
. Close, if he needed it. It took only seconds to shift.

“Hey!”

Both men turned to spy a tall, dark-haired man dressed all in black striding down the narrow aqueduct ledge.

Stryke scented him before he recognized the hematite glint at his temples. “Thrash.” He fisted a palm and set back his shoulders.

“Dial it down,” Kir cautioned as he stepped around Stryke and offered his hand.

Edamite Thrash shook Kir's hand and the two greeted one another as old friends.

What. The. Hell?

* * *

Blyss paced in the kitchen, unsure what to do with herself. Something felt off about the diamond situation.
Le Diabolique
had been missing for days now, and the original owner had not checked to reclaim the borrowed property.

In fact, she was baffled why the police and detectives hadn't knocked down her door yet. And then she realized she couldn't quite place a name to the person who had loaned her gallery the diamond.

Where had it come from? Had the owner known it contained a demon? Maybe that person had wanted it to be stolen and eventually unleashed on the city?

Crazy thoughts. But really, when one had possession of a diamond that contained a demon, could anything be more crazy?

“I need to check the paperwork.”

And while most of the gallery's paperwork was digitized and accessible from her home computer, this particular acquisition was not in the records. Further weirdness.

So she dashed on some eyeliner and lipstick, slipped her feet into a pair of red leather Jimmy Choos and headed off to the gallery to try to figure out this mess.

* * *

“You're working with the wrong side, Sauveterre,” Stryke said as he strode up to Thrash and Kir. “This asshole kidnapped me the other day and he's extorting your sister.”

“Yeah, about that.” Kir punched the demon in the jaw.

“Seriously?” Stryke asked as Thrash shook off the iron-fisted hit with a red-eyed smirk. “So why the friendly handshake? You knew what he was doing to Blyss.”

“Ed and I go way back. He's okay,” Kir said. “Except when he screws with my sister.”

“Hey!” Ed put up his palms to ward off the next imminent hit. “Kirnan, you know I respect Blyss. I would do anything for her. She came to me. We've had this business arrangement for years. I am helping her.”

“Helping her?” Stryke wanted to be the next in line for the punch. “If she doesn't pay you half a million by the full moon you've threatened to kill her family. That would be your family too, Kir.”

This time Thrash's body soared with the punch that Stryke delivered. The demon's head and shoulders hit the limestone wall and he collapsed in a heap before the men.

Stryke rubbed his knuckles and cast Kir a sidelong glance. “Your priorities when it comes to friendship are questionable.”

“I know he's been supplying Blyss,” Kir said. “I didn't realize he was making threats. He's...” The werewolf bowed his head and said in tight tones, “...sort of family.”

“What?”

Kir rubbed his jaw, thinking for a moment as the demon shook his head, attempting to pull out of the bruising punch Stryke had delivered him.

“Blyss doesn't know this,” Kir said, “but years ago, when my father was forced out of the pack because he was having an affair with a vampire...”

“Yeah?”

“Me and the old man had a good long talk. He's into more than vampires. Demons are his first choice when it comes to women.”

“Don't tell me. He had an affair with Thrash's mom?”

Kir nodded. “Long time ago. We're half brothers.”

“Yikes.” Stryke didn't know what to say to that one.

“We've been—well, I wouldn't call it friends, but it's something—since learning about one another. We keep each other up on the weird and wacky family we've been meshed into. But we decided to keep it from Blyss. She likes to stay as far away from the paranormal realm as possible. She hates being a wolf. Can you imagine what it would do to her if she learned Thrash was her half brother?”

“Apparently Thrash wasn't going to tell you about the threat to your family. And I suspect family includes you.”

Kir lifted Thrash by the back of his shirt and pushed him against the wall. The demon spat black blood to the side. “What's gotten into you?”

“It's
Le Diabolique
,” Thrash said. “I need to keep it out of the wrong hands.”

“What?” Stryke shoved a hand against Thrash's shoulder and Kir stepped aside. “Blyss said you wanted to release the demon within the diamond.”

“Great Beelzebub, no! That stone imprisons Xyloda from this realm. That demon gets out, I'm finished. I want to keep it out of the wrong hands. I should have never trusted Blyss could handle the snatch. Why the hell did she give it to you?”

Stryke shook his head. “I'm two pages behind you, buddy. This whole affair confuses me. So you want the diamond to keep the demon inside? But right now some demons have both the diamond and the demon scepter. And yesterday, Kir and I found the lair where they're going to perform the release ritual. They've already got demons caged and waiting for the sacrifice.”

“Merde.”
Ed pushed down his shirtsleeves and pressed a thumb to his mouth in thought. His hand, which was concealed by a black leather half glove, revealed dark scrawls on the fingers that looked like tattoos, but Stryke felt sure they were far more evil in nature. “Where was the lair?”

“Beneath Club l'Enfer,” Kir said. He met Stryke's castigating expression with a shrug. “Believe it or not, he
is
on our side.”

“This asshole had his thugs work me over. Punches intended for your sister. He was going to hurt Blyss.”

“I would never hurt her. She's my half sister. I...” The demon shook off what he was going to say. “The pills she takes are expensive, and I do have my own finances to manage. But I had to make the threats to ensure she actually did it. If she doesn't bring me the stone she won't get the pills she so desperately desires. I sure as hell won't lay a finger on any of her family members. Including you, Kir. But without those pills you might have a howling werewolf on your hands in a few days.” Ed arrowed his gaze on Stryke. “Bet you'll be thrilled about that, eh, country boy?”

This time Stryke's punch knocked out Thrash and toppled him to the right. The demon's body teetered toward the river. Kir managed to catch his half brother by the wrist as his legs slipped into the Seine.

“I know you're angry,” Kir said as he struggled to hold the unconscious demon above water, “but we can work with him. We'll make him pay later for being cruel to my sister, and the threats.”

“What? With a brotherly punch? I know how that works.”

“Just chill, will you? We can trust him. Right now Thrash is the closest connection we have to whoever might have stolen the diamond. We need him.”

“Fine.” Stryke bent and reached for the demon's pant leg and helped Kir hoist him onto the cobbled sidewalk. He stepped back and leaned against the wall, catching a palm against his forehead. “If the lair was in the club owned by Himself, why don't we go straight to the source? The devil is obviously behind this. Let's just call him here. The Old Lad, right?”

“Dude, no. Don't say it—”

“Himself!” Stryke called. “We need to talk. Himself!”

“Merde,”
Ed said as he sat up. “Tell me he didn't say that name three times?”

“You rang?” a sepulchral voice echoed from down the way.