Moonlight and Diamonds & The Vampire's Fall (11 page)

Chapter 11

S
tryke kicked off his shoes inside his apartment's kitchen. He tore off his shirt and tossed it across the back of a chair. He strode into the living room, smacking a fist in palm. The intense need to punch something tightened his muscles. He usually matched Trouble while sparring. He could use a punching bag right now.

Blyss didn't want to be a wolf.

What. The. Hell?

He couldn't conceive of such a notion. How could a person not want to be something they had been born to?

Blowing out a breath, he paced before the windows that overlooked the Seine. The view was gorgeous. He should be out touring the city, taking in the summer air, holding hands with a sexy werewolf...

Okay. Stop.

He was a rational man. He was able to look at things from more than his perspective. All his life he'd been a pseudo counselor to his brothers and their troubles, especially regarding women. He could do this.

If he considered what Blyss had revealed to him, he could understand that there were people in this world who wanted to change their circumstances. That no matter how others looked at them, and assumed them to be happy, they might never be happy with their life. So, sure, he could grant that Blyss wasn't happy. Hadn't been happy. And she'd taken measures to find a certain happiness that better suited her.

He shrugged his fingers over his scalp. “But not a wolf?”

Here he'd thought he'd happened upon a good thing. A gorgeous woman, who was also a werewolf, who seemed to like him and definitely seemed to enjoy having sex with him. He'd thought they'd hit it off. Had even allowed himself to take a step toward thinking she could be
the one
.

Yet the truth was, she had been using him. Mostly. He could believe her when she'd explained that initially she'd been looking for a dupe to carry the diamond out of the gallery, and then she'd warmed to him as a lover.

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe in something.

But it was too late. Tomorrow his family boarded a plane for the States. So long, Paris, romance and Blyss. Sure, he'd intended to stay a few days longer, but he would eventually leave.

Could
he leave her?

“I need a shower.” He'd been wearing the same clothes for two days. And he needed a good night's sleep. With hope, the morning would bring a new perspective.

* * *

The morning brought Stryke upright in bed with a name on his lips. “Blyss.”

And all the angst he'd been feeling returned. Jumping out of bed and pulling on his jeans and a shirt, he wandered into the kitchen but wasn't hungry, so he swung back into the living room.

A knock on the door jerked him around from his fervent pacing. He marched to the door and pulled it open, cautioning himself from growling. Kelyn and Trouble barged in.

“We're heading to the airport this afternoon,” Trouble said. “You packed and ready?”

“No.”

“What?” Kelyn asked.

“I...” And he made a knee-jerk decision. “I'm going to stay on for a while longer.”

“What the hell for?” Trouble asked. “I mean, the city is cool. It's got sexy chicks walking around, if you can sift through the crazy tourists and find a real Parisian femme, but seriously? I'm so ready to head back home.”

“Rhys Hawkes has more work for me.” Stryke summoned a simple excuse. “It's interesting work. And I like the city, so yeah, as long as I've a place to stay, I think I'll hang out for a while.”

And there was one other, bigger reason.

“What about that chick you brought to the wedding?” Kelyn guessed correctly. “Is it true what I heard that it might have been her fault the demons attacked?”

“That's probably not true.” He didn't want his brothers going after Blyss because of something she may or may not have been involved in. Because if Trouble smelled trouble then he'd stick around for the dangerous fun. “It's a complicated deal.”

And Stryke didn't want to discuss it with his brothers. They would form an opinion of Blyss, and he'd rather they not think of her negatively. She was a complicated woman. And he decided right then and there that he wasn't going to walk away from her just like that. He couldn't. If there were demons looking for the diamond, Blyss could be in danger.

“Demons or not, she was one hot chick,” Trouble said. “Isn't that the kicker? The dangerous ones are always the most exciting.”

“Yeah? Then your ultimate match will probably knock you into tomorrow,” Stryke offered.

“Hey, I'd like that.” Trouble rubbed his jaw and bounced a couple of times on his feet. Boxer's moves. Their eldest brother was a frenetic bundle of energy. “So you want to head out to that street where they sell those chicken sandwiches with all the fries?”

“The Greek restaurant,” Kelyn provided.

Dozens of restaurants tucked within the 5th arrondissement served up shredded chicken gyros on soft pita bread, slathered with tzatziki sauce, and piled with veggies and mountains of crispy fries. Heaven.

“Sounds like a plan,” Stryke offered. “Is Blade around?”

“Yeah, we'll grab him on the way out the building. We'll get Dad, too. He's been complaining that Mom made him take her to all the froufrou restaurants that serve a carrot stick and a blop of mush.”

Stryke grabbed his shirt and shoved his feet into his shoes. He needed a hearty meal and some time hanging with the guys. He could worry about the crazy werewolf glamour girl later.

* * *

Blyss pulled a bottle from the wine cooler, turned around—and dropped the bottle on the marble floor. The glass shattered. Cool liquid splashed her ankles, and shards of glass cut across her bare feet.

Edamite Thrash stood in the kitchen. His pale gray eyes narrowed on her, his mouth equally as narrow. The horns at his temples caught the sunlight with a glint. She hadn't heard him enter, but she knew he was powerful. He must have the ability to transport himself wherever he wished. She wasn't up on demon abilities. Didn't want to be up on them either.

“Cabernet 1945?” he asked. “Pity.”

With a sweep of his hand, the black glass pieces reformed into the bottle, and the wine puddles refilled it. The undamaged bottle found its place onto the kitchen counter.

Blyss was no longer in the mood for a glass of wine. She'd been anxious and had sought something to calm her nerves. Yes, at eleven in the morning.

“What are you doing here?” she had the audacity to ask.

“Talked to your lover yesterday. He's a werewolf,” Ed said with unexpected surprise. “What's up with that? I thought you were anti-werewolf?”

“It's complicated” was all she could answer. Because it was. And she didn't want to chat with Ed. “I'll get the diamond. I promise.”

“My confidence in you actually accomplishing that task has waned.” Another gesture of his fingers glided her across the floor to stop abruptly before him.

Blyss stepped back but her thighs met the countertop, keeping her an arm's reach from the demon. “I'll find it. I need to.”

“Right. Because you're almost out of pills. Full moon on the horizon. Without those pills you'll be getting your wolf on. That is, if you live that long.”

Blyss held her breath. The threat was nothing new.

“Are you aware a demonic scepter has also been stolen?” he queried. He pressed his fingertips together before his chest. The deadly thorns on his knuckles glinted menacingly. They looked as if carved from obsidian, and Blyss knew one slice from them could render most dead from the poison contained within.

“No. A scepter? What does that have to do with the diamond?”

“Everything. The diamond fits into the head of the scepter. Once
Le Diabolique
is placed in its rightful position, the scepter is capable of releasing the demon contained within. Xyloda is what it is called.”

Her jaw dropped open. “But I thought that's what
you
wanted to do with it?”

He did want to release the demon. Or so she had assumed. He hadn't actually told her what his plans for
Le Diabolique
were.

“You think to know so much?” he asked in a measured tone.

Did she? Or did she only assume she knew his plans for the diamond? What else could he possibly have wanted it for?

Ed tilted his head to study her, his eyes glowing red. She noted a surprising change in his expression. The icy hardness melted at the corner of his tight mouth. And the red glow receded.

“A ritual is required,” Ed continued. “The blood of twelve demons is required to release Xyloda from
Le Diabolique
. Twelve rare demons.”

“Well, if they're rare—”

“Silence.”

She did not tolerate a man speaking so rudely to her, but she knew better than to stand up to Edamite Thrash.

“All that means is you've yet time to obtain that which I've tasked you to get for me. And I have no choice but to let you seek it because you have a connection to the one man who may be able to sniff it out.”

“Stryke? But—”

Ed flicked his fingers toward her. Blyss's feet left the ground, and her chin tilted up as if he was lifting her. “Bring me
Le Diabolique
before the moon is full. If you do not, I will kill your father. And then I will kill your mother and your brother. Then I will take off the Saint-Pierre werewolf's head while you watch. But I won't kill you, because to watch you shift to the one thing that appalls you most will give me great pleasure.”

Blyss dropped to her feet and Ed disappeared from the kitchen. She caught herself from falling to her knees by grasping the counter behind her and leaning across it. Teardrops splashed the marble surface. Her heartbeats clambered against her rib cage.

How was she going to find
Le Diabolique
?

She needed Stryke's help. And he had walked away from her, disgusted by the choice she had made with her life.

Chapter 12

B
lyss watched from a distance as the Saint-Pierre family piled into a stretch limo and rolled away from the island. En route to the airport, no doubt. Stryke had mentioned they were here for only the week.

Too late. She'd missed him! Now what to do?

She should have never agreed to get the diamond for Thrash. Yet Ed had always treated her well in the years she had been buying the pills from him. Today had been the first time she had felt genuine fear being near him. What evil would he unleash on the world when he finally got the diamond and scepter? What was the demon Xyloda? She shivered to consider the menace of which it could be capable.

A walk had felt necessary to rid herself of the anxiety, and she'd needed to get out of her home and away from the spot where Ed had stood and threatened her.

The Île Saint-Louis had been a long stroll in her heeled Louis Vuitton suede boots. Good thing they were comfortable. And now her only hope had left. He'd washed his hands of her. Yet she had been compelled here, to where he had stayed. Because she hadn't known where else to go. And she thought that maybe, if she offered to pay Stryke, he would stay and help.

Of course, she hadn't any money. The only thing of value she hadn't hocked yet was the diamond she wore around her neck. It wasn't worth more than five thousand. A pittance to what she owed Thrash. Could it have been enough to interest Stryke in tracking demons for the one woman he must hate more than demons?

Didn't matter anymore. She was alone with no one to turn to.

A hand glided up Blyss's back, and she spun about, prepared to slap whoever touched her— “Stryke?”

“Sorry to scare you. I saw you standing here and couldn't figure out why.”

Lowering her hand, she offered a shrug. “I was... I thought you had gone. I saw your family drive away.”

“Headed home to Minnesota. They've had enough tourism for a while. I, on the other hand, am looking forward to a trip to the Eiffel Tower today. Might even take the stairs to the top. I hear that line is shorter.”

“Infinitely shorter. I imagine a man like you could run up the stairs and not feel winded when you reach the top.”

He shrugged. “I need to let off some steam. The workout will do me good.”

He probably needed that workout because of her. Blyss looked aside, not wanting to look into his bright brown eyes because she knew she'd see the hurt there. Hurt caused by her.

“So, you're staying?” Her voice cracked slightly. “Just to do the tourist thing?”

“Yep. There are a lot of sights I'd like to see.”

She nodded and looked aside. Dare she ask him for help? No, she couldn't. He owed her nothing. And she had already taken too much from him.

“I'm sorry I left the way I did last night,” he offered.

“No. You had every right. I'm not the most upstanding person.”

“Don't say that, Blyss. You were doing what felt right to you.”

“Thank you. You are quite the man.”

“Yeah, well, I was too hasty. Judging you. I shouldn't do that. I don't want to do that. You have every right to feel the way you do about your...werewolf thing.”

“It's what I'm comfortable with.”

He touched her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I think I could be comfortable with you.”

“You're lying to yourself. You want a werewolf, Stryke. You want the picket fence and the pack. I can't give you that happily-ever-after.” And her heart cringed because it was a truth she despised.

“All I want from you right now is trust,” he said.

“I do trust you.”

“And maybe companionship?” His eyes gleamed with sunlight. “I do have another reason for staying. You. We've started something. It's a weird something, to be honest with you. But it's a something that I don't want to end so abruptly. If that makes any sense.”

“You really mean that?”

He kissed her. Hand gliding along her neck and up the back of her head, he held her there as the kiss mastered her, filled her. Spoke to her all the things he probably couldn't put into words. It said:
let's try this
. At least, that was what she hoped it said.

“I'm going to keep my options open,” he said as he pulled away. “But you know, I'm not rich. I suspect I'm not exactly tops on your wish list either.”

“I think it's high time I focus on something beyond the material.”

“Really? Because if you owe some asshole demon half a million dollars, I'd think right now would be an excellent time to focus on laying your hands on some cash.”

Blyss smiled. “You'd think. But I don't want that from you.” Then she sighed, because she did want something from him. And it wasn't an easy friendship or a sexy kiss. “Time for total honesty and the reason I'm here. I need to track
Le Diabolique
. You know why?”

“I suspect Thrash has threatened you.”

“He's now threatened to kill my entire family if I don't bring him the diamond by the full moon. He told me there's a ritual required to call the demon out from the stone and it requires the blood of twelve demons. It'll take a while for whoever has the stone to collect all those demons because they are rare. I hate telling you this, because once again, I need something from you.”

“Just ask, Blyss. I stayed in Paris because I want to help you.”

“You—you did?”

He nodded.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. His generosity was immense and so selfless. And she deserved none of it. He was truly one in a million. She couldn't afford his kindness.

“Blyss, talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

“I, uh...” She exhaled. For all he knew about her, he was still standing before her. And that meant a lot. “I need your expertise in tracking. I need your help locating the diamond. I need so much from you and I've done nothing to deserve it.”

“You need help. That's all that matters.”

“It shouldn't be. I should have, at the very least, done something to deserve your help.”

He leaned in and kissed her again before whispering, “You've touched my heart. That's reason enough.”

She didn't want to cry. She didn't deserve his kindness or his sweet words. He was being too nice. And she didn't know why. But right now, she didn't have time to question that kindness.

“How will we find the diamond?” she asked softly.

“We need to go back to Club l'Enfer. I think Johnny, the groom, knows the place. I'll give him a call and see if he's got a suggestion how to get into the back rooms. Come on.”

He grabbed her hand while he pulled out his phone with the other. Walking her up to his apartment, Stryke talked to Johnny while they did so. By the time he opened his front door, he closed the phone and gestured to walk inside.

“Johnny said the place is owned by Himself. It's a demon and vamp hot spot.”

The devil Himself owned the place? Blyss shivered.

Stryke embraced her from behind, nuzzling his face aside her neck. “You're not coming along with me this time. L'Enfer is no place for a woman like you.”

“You mean a silly girl who walks around in diamonds and high heels?”

“I mean, a woman who will most likely be construed as only human. You don't give off the werewolf vibes, Blyss. The bouncer thought you were my human pet before. It's best you stay behind.”

“But I don't want you to go there alone. It's dangerous. Can Johnny go with you?”

“He's on his honeymoon. He suggested I check with Vail. It would be better to go in with numbers than alone. Why don't I walk you home? Then after dark I'll go check out the club. It'll be wiser to go there when the place is full. Best chance to find whoever might have taken the diamond.”

“I'd like to stay here until you go. If you don't mind? I won't bother you. I'll just curl up on the couch with a book or something.”

Stryke chuffed. “No books in the place. Much to my annoyance. Though there is a travel guide on the coffee table. Let's do this. We'll head out for a nice meal, an afternoon of chatting, getting to know one another beyond what we've done in bed.”

“Sounds lovely, and I don't deserve—”

Stryke kissed her quickly, then said, “Stop telling me what you don't deserve. You deserve whatever I'm willing to give you. And what I want to give you is another kiss.”

And that kiss was the best kiss Blyss had ever received. Because it was a promise. The man wore integrity like a brightly gleaming badge. And with his kiss he gave her hope and the desire to make his dreams come true.

Happily-ever-after? Blyss didn't believe in the fantasy. But maybe it was worth a try?

* * *

Blyss handed Stryke her mobile after they'd been seated in The Lounge Club in the Hotel Regina. She loved this cozy restaurant and had eaten here a few times.

“Put your number in there,” she said. “And...you can copy mine, if you like.”

He took out his phone and did so, with a wink to her. “Why do I sense I've just crashed some golden gate that would normally be bolted and barred with digital codes that not even a seasoned thief could crack?”

She took her phone back and tucked it in her purse. “I never give my number to a man. You have cracked my code, Stryke. And I'm not saying that because I need help from you.”

“I can tell when you're being genuine. You look me directly in the eye and it's as though I can see clear into the next life in those gorgeous greens of yours.”

“That's quite a distance. What's going on in the next life? And where are you?”

“I'm right here, sitting next to you,” he said and moved around the curved bench so their shoulders hugged. “Is it cool if I sit so close?” He stretched his gaze about the room. “Kind of a fancy place. I don't want you worrying about whispers.”

“Let them whisper,” she said and tilted her head to kiss his cheek. “Mmm, you always smell good. But you don't wear cologne.”

“It's all me, glamour girl. Plain, showered and just your average wolf.”

She tilted her head with a smile. “You're not an average anything. Most especially not a, er...”

“You don't like the topic of wolves much, do you?”

“I strive to walk a life parallel to all things wolf. I respect the breed. I just don't relate to it. As for you, I imagine your perfect life would involve living in some country cabin surrounded by miles of forest. Having a werewolf wife who is barefoot and pregnant, busy creating the pack you so desire.”

“You hit it on the head. But she doesn't have to be barefoot if she doesn't want to be.”

“So Louboutins would be all right?”

“I don't even know what that means.”

“Louboutins are a brand of shoe. I own many pairs.”

“Ah. Those sexy pumps you're always wearing? Not sure how they'd go over out in the country. Kind of
Green Acres
. But I could get into that fantasy.”

“Green Acres?”

“Yeah, it's a TV show from decades ago that featured a New York millionaire and his wife who packed up and moved to the country. He embraced the farmer's lifestyle while she wandered about in her pretty clothes and shoes and dreamed of moving back to the big city.”

“So they eventually divorced?”

Stryke smirked and sipped from the water goblet. “Nope. They were in love. Love conquers all challenges.”

“Getting the heel of my Louboutin stuck in the mud is not a challenge I ever want to face.”

“I know that about you. Don't worry, glamour girl. I won't toss you over my shoulder and haul you out to the country. Unless you ask me to.” His wink softened the tension in her neck and melted the bars about her heart.

If he kept saying the right words she might follow him anywhere.

The waiter arrived and Blyss could but sigh. Having Stryke toss her over his shoulder and take her anywhere he pleased sounded like a delicious adventure. And if she had to, she'd even trip across the forest floor in her Louboutins if she knew he waited for her with his arms held open.

“Uh, Blyss?”

She waded out of her thoughts and back to reality. The waiter frowned at Stryke.

“You'll have to handle this one for me,” he muttered conspiratorially. “This guy isn't much for my English.”

“Of course.” In French, she ordered him filet mignon and a nicoise salad for herself. A bottle of Krug sounded lovely, but she declined. She hadn't the finances to cover the cost, and she didn't want to put Stryke out.

Wow, this roughing it was really quite a change from the usual tossing aside all caution and ordering anything she might care for, along with the wine. But as well, it felt strangely freeing. Blyss the socialite would frown upon the man sitting next to her in jeans and a T-shirt.

Who was she now that the very sight of Stryke's easy confidence and devil-may-care smile tapped into all her desires and made her lean in toward him for any contact she could manage?

“So what am I eating tonight?” he asked.

“It'll be a surprise.”

“If it's frog legs...”

“Don't worry.” She kissed him on the cheek. “I may not know how to cook, but I do know how to take care of my man.”

“So no cooking? Ever?”

She shook her head. “I was never taught. I have standing meal orders from the area restaurants. Cooking is not something that interests me.” She smiled again. “Yet another mark against me on your list, I suppose?”

“I don't have a list.”

“Really? Your
Green Acres
fantasy doesn't appeal to me,” she offered. “And you really do need a wolf. Someone who can race through the woods with you.”

He did. And yet. “You say that with a certain reverence. Memories from childhood of doing just that? Racing through the woods?”