Moonlight and Diamonds & The Vampire's Fall (14 page)

Thinking about how she had surrendered to their spur-of-the-moment food fight, Stryke had to agree. The woman was indeed surprising.

“I don't want Thrash to hurt her,” he said. “We need to find the black diamond. And after that, well...”

Kir cast him a glance. “Well?”

“Just well. I intend to head back to Minnesota once I know Blyss is safe. I've been tasked to start my own pack by my father. So...I'm in the market for a wife. But if I had a reason to stay in Paris awhile longer? Well then.”

“I get the wife search. I'd love to marry a werewolf, but the only way that will happen around here is usually arranged.”

“My grandfather is in an arranged marriage. They are still madly in love.”

“Good to hear. I'll remember that should I ever be faced with the situation. I like you, Saint-Pierre. If you have a chance, I'd like to introduce you to my pack. You'd get along with my best friend Jacques.”

“That would be cool. I'd like to learn more about the Enforcers. I graduated from the police academy back home, but when it came time to get a job I realized I couldn't do it. Entry level was desk work. I couldn't bring myself to work with humans, even though they surely need the help as much as we do. I want to work with my own kind, protecting them. We need it.”

“You could start an enforcement agency back home.”

“It's an idea. Might be the thing to help build a new pack, as well. The place is right up there.” Stryke pointed out the club with the black metal door.

“Yep. Been inside that club too many times to admit to. But only for a case, never because the skeevy vampire chicks turn me on.” He winked and got out of the parked car. The streets were crowded with young human partyers, but Stryke sensed paranormals mingled among the mix.

“The club usually only allows in paranormals,” Kir said as they strode toward the doors. “But they admit pretty human women for the vamps to feed on. The humans aren't aware, but then again, some are and return for the bite. Fang junkies.”

“When Blyss and I were here the other day it was dead. We didn't find anything, but the scent trail from Hawkes Associates was unmistakable right until I reached the main room inside.”

“Then we need to go deeper,” Kir said.

The bouncer was different than the one who had let Stryke in previously. The bruiser sporting deadly studs—on his forearms, not his leather vest—looked Kir and Stryke up and down, then nodded and opened the door. Demons could scent out any breed, including humans.

“So the devil Himself owns this place?” Stryke asked as they strode down the dark hallway.

“Don't say that name again,” Kir cautioned as they paused before the main dance floor. “Say it three times and you've invited that bastard for lunch.”

“Got it. I think the back rooms are beyond the stage over there.” Stryke sniffed. “I can pick out the familiar scent. I don't think they're here. It's lingered that long. Definitely leads back that way.”

“Then let's follow your nose. Take the lead, man.”

They pushed through the crush of dancers and to the darkened depths that led through the doorway and turned into a maze of dark hallways. When Stryke sensed someone walking toward them, he slipped behind a black velvet curtain and Kir followed. They waited until what smelled faery to Stryke passed and then sneaked out.

Stryke followed the demonic scent he'd originally picked up at the wedding and at Hawkes Associates. It was barely there, but cloying enough that he didn't feel he was wrong. It wasn't difficult to hold the scent either, despite the thump of drums in his heart, and the rush of adrenaline passing through the dance floor had ignited in his system.

When they landed upon a dead-end wall painted with glow-in-the-dark graffiti, Stryke stepped onto a metal plate and jumped, testing the floor. “A door,” he decided. “Going down.”

Knowing the devil Himself owned the place and finding a door going down didn't sit well with him. Stryke reminded himself he wasn't here to play scared. In fact, he had wanted to find danger here in Paris. And here it was. “Shall we?”

“After you,” Kir said with a glance the way they had come.

A steel staircase descended straight down within a tunnel, so Stryke could stand upright, stepping down and balancing himself with his hands against the curved steel wall before him. It was claustrophobic, but he felt cooler air rising from below. After descending about thirty feet, he sensed he was close to landing.

Both men arrived on a solid dirt floor and stood underground in the dark, surrounded by steel walls and an icy chill. The thumping beat from the overhead club was now but a murmur inside Stryke's veins.

“It's been built up,” Kir noted. “Most tunnels under the city are carved out of the limestone. Interesting.”

They sniffed to take in the surroundings.

“This way,” Stryke said, veering left. Kir followed. “Just ahead. The scent grows stronger.”

A dim light marked a room that was closed off by iron bars. The bars were spaced so wide that Stryke and Kir were able to slip through them and look about. Everything was dark and either steel or blackened metal. The walls were impressed with markings, as was the ceiling. Looked tribal, or at the least, some definite design. Stryke noticed that the floor featured a geometric design, fitted in the dirt floor with black metal ribbons, that traced to the center of the room—where the silver scepter had been placed in a keyhole that looked as though it had been made specifically for it.

“Why does this remind me of every horror or creature flick I've ever seen?” Stryke commented.

“If that doesn't give you the creeps, check that out.”

Kir gestured to the wall behind them. In the dimness beyond closer-spaced iron bars were living beings. In cages. Glowing red eyes peered out at them. Four pairs.

“This can't be good,” Stryke said. “They've begun to collect the demons for the sacrifice.”

Chapter 15

T
he apartment felt vast and empty now that the men had gone. It was almost as if each had lifted up his own air and carried it out with him. And the air that surrounded Stryke Saint-Pierre was fresh and new and yet it occupied so much space, Blyss could feel his absence painfully.

As she finished cleaning up the food from the floors, walls and counters, she lamented such strange emotions. What was that about?

She didn't miss men. She used men.

Since her early twenties, when she had decided to live as a human among humans—and knew it would require a certain income as werewolf daughters were rarely taught marketable job skills; yes, the medieval ways still ruled in most packs—she had trained herself to carefully select a man as her lover, someone who possessed esteem, money and who got bored quickly. Blyss didn't want to become
the girlfriend
. She enjoyed being the lover. Besides, it was dangerous when men started to develop feelings toward her. She preferred to take the jewels, thank them with a sexy weekend and then stride out of their lives.

Until Stryke had pushed her up against the wall and changed her mind.

Everything about the man was nothing she had ever been interested in. And yet it didn't matter to her at all that he wasn't rich. She preferred his down-home sensibility and everyman qualities. It didn't matter that he'd never bring her a five-hundred-euro bottle of champagne. He liked to lick the cheap stuff off her skin. And that was a thousand times more satisfying.

It might not even matter that he was werewolf.

Maybe?

Blyss sat back against the kitchen counter. She'd scrubbed the floor clean. She tossed the sponge in the bucket of dirty water. She couldn't remember when she'd last done manual labor. It should appall her. Yet she could only feel a sense of satisfaction as she looked over the gleaming marble floor.

Leaning forward, she studied her reflection in a beam of moonlight that mirrored the marble surface. What she saw was a woman who tried to wear her mask with perfection so others would never see the ugly creature lurking beneath.

“But he's not ugly,” she whispered.

In fact, she was curious about Stryke's wolf. She wanted to see him shifted, both as a four-legged wolf and as the powerful werewolf that walked as a man on two legs. She wanted to smell his carnal desire for her. To feel his power and know his strength. She wanted to be owned by Stryke Saint-Pierre in every way possible.

And she realized what hidden part of her actually felt those desires. Her wolf. It had to be. Because the socialite Blyss Sauveterre, masquerading as a human woman, would never consider a werewolf anything but a foul and disgusting creature.

She glanced around the counter and up the side of the stainless-steel fridge where the iPad hung on a rack; it served as her digital calendar. Less than three days before the full moon. It hadn't been a year since she'd last shifted to werewolf. She didn't need to make the shift this month. But she would be forced to if
Le Diabolique
was not found and she could not hand it over to Ed.

Maybe she didn't need the crutch of the pills anymore? Could she...accept her werewolf?

She shook her head, catching a spill of hair against her palm. “What am I thinking? Just because a handsome wolf has snuck into my heart doesn't mean I need to start thinking crazy.”

Because without the pills she would revert to werewolf and would need to shift. Every month.

She pressed a palm over her heart. Indeed, Stryke had found a way inside, beneath the mask and into her soul. She felt him there. Wanted to keep him there.

Which complicated things.

Why was she listening to her heart instead of the exacting, rational, and yes, even conniving, socialite who knew what had to be done to survive?

If she was honest with herself, it felt good to allow her heart the lead. She hadn't done so—well, ever. And she missed Stryke. She needed him here, holding her, kissing her, calling her glamour girl.

So what did that mean?

“I think I'm in love,” she whispered.

And the realization hurt something far more fragile than her heart. It wounded her very soul.

* * *

They decided to leave the caged demons as they were. They appeared drugged because none tried to fight and speak to them. There was no sign of the diamond. Kir walked around the scepter placed in the center of the floor. They couldn't touch it without something to protect them from the silver.

Stryke pulled off his shirt and wrapped it about the scepter, but try as he might, it would not budge. “It's as if it's been riveted into the floor.”

“Leave it,” Kir said.

They left the underground demon lair with the intention of tracking, but the scents stopped outside the club.

“We'll check back when we learn more,” Stryke said.

“I'll check the database and get back to you.”

Instead of having Kir drop him at his place, Stryke said he wanted to check in with Blyss and help her clean because he was pretty sure she might be baffled by the whole cleaning process.

Kir chuckled knowingly and said he'd be in touch. He would check his sources regarding local demon nests and call if he found a lead.

Meanwhile, Rhys called. Stryke answered his phone while standing inside the main door that led to the courtyard before Blyss's building. “Rhys, what's up?”

“Tor has more items that need a pickup. Listen, I know this isn't the glamorous security detail I had offered you, but the work does come up occasionally.”

“It's cool, Rhys. I'm glad to help out. Is it something I need to dash off to right now?”

“No, actually Tor wants to catalog the items first. I told him to give you a call when it's ready. Probably tomorrow.”

“Sounds good. More demon stuff?”

“No, this is related to the
sidhe
. Not sure what it is exactly. Are you still tracking the scepter?”

“I found it, but wasn't able to retrieve it. Just got back from following a lead that took us below Club l'Enfer. It was like wandering through the bowels of hell down there.”

“Be careful, Stryke. You're treading Himself's territory.”

“Yeah, but tell me why the dark bad guy would have an interest in releasing an all-powerful demon from some big diamond? I mean, wouldn't that be competition?”

“Does sound odd. You suspect it was demons who stole both the scepter and the diamond?”

“Ninety-nine percent sure. I tracked their scent both from your office and the wedding. Definitely demon.”

“They could be working on their own. Independent of...you know who.” As Kir had stated, it was never wise to mention Himself's name more than once. “The only demon I know right now that has any control over the local denizens is Edamite Thrash.”

“Yeah, he's oddly involved in all this, but I don't think he stole either of the items.”

“He surely sent lackeys.”

“Maybe.” Then why even press Blyss to bring him the diamond if Thrash had others steal it for him? Didn't make sense. “I've hooked up with Blyss's brother, Kir Sauveterre.”

“Ah yes, from the Valoir pack. Good bunch of wolves. They enforce in the city, yes?”

“Yes, they do. Sounds like a cool job. We need to organize something like that in the States. Anyway, I'll wait for Tor's call. Thanks, Rhys. Let me know if you get any ideas about this situation. The clock is ticking. I have a sense it's all going down on the night of the full moon.”

“Doesn't give you much time. I should mention, I've a cabin about an hour out of the city you can use on the night of the full moon if you're still in Paris then. Leagues and leagues of forest surrounding it. All private land. You interested?”

“Hell yes. Thanks, Rhys. You've been so generous, I'm not sure how I'll ever repay you.”

“You already are, Stryke. Talk to you soon.”

He knocked on Blyss's door and opened it, calling out to her. A gorgeous vision in white came running down the hallway. Stryke immediately sensed danger and grabbed her, hugging her against his chest, as he scanned the hallway behind her. Instincts lifted his head, sniffing for danger.

“What is it?” he asked. His heart thundered, yet he didn't sense another presence in the apartment.

“I missed you,” she said.

“What?”

He lifted her and she wrapped her legs about his hips as he strolled down the hallway into the spotless kitchen. She'd cleaned up herself? He walked into the living room and sat with her still attached to him.

“What's wrong, Blyss?”

“Nothing's wrong. And everything's wrong.” She hugged up to him and tilted her head against his shoulder. “I missed you desperately.”

“Is that the part where nothing is wrong or everything is wrong?”

“It's both.” She bracketed her hands aside his head to stare into his eyes. “The whole time you were gone I could only think of you. I didn't even mind the cleaning part. I actually found it rewarding. But my thoughts were on you. If you were safe. If you and my brother were getting along. If you would return to me. You came back to me.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” And see if she needed help. Which she had not. And she'd been thinking of him the whole time? “You were worried I wouldn't return?”

She nodded. “You've changed my heart, Stryke.” She hugged him again, this time tightly. “I think I love you.”

“Whoa.” While having a woman declare her love for him was an amazing thing, Stryke couldn't imagine she was thinking straight. Must have inhaled fumes from the cleaning spray. “What happened to down with the wolves? I'm pretty sure werewolf isn't tops on your list of potential love interests.”

“It doesn't matter to me what you are. Oh, I know this sounds crazy. You don't have to love me back. I just wanted to say it, to feel it on my tongue. And it felt great. It feels right.”

“Glamour girl.” He tilted his forehead against hers. “I do love your surprises.”

“Did you find out anything?” she asked.

Much as he wanted to bask in her confession, Stryke nodded. “Kir and I found a lair. Inside were caged demons. And the scepter. We tried to take the scepter, but it was fixed into a weird mechanism.”

“What about
Le Diabolique
?”

“No sight of it. I'm thinking the only way to find that might be to set a trap. Locate one of the twelve demons on the list Libby gave us and sit in wait for whoever comes for it. But even that is an iffy plan. Who's to say the guy in charge will go for that particular demon? Much as I hate to admit it, I'm at a loss what to do. But your brother is looking into his contacts.”

“I'm glad the two of you get along.”

“Kir's a good guy. He invited me to come meet the pack.”

“Valoir is a noble pack that goes back for half a dozen generations. They are good people.” She sighed. “If you can overlook my mother. But even she has some favorable moments, I'm sure.”

“I don't want to meet anyone from Valoir without you at my side.”

“Then I'm afraid that will never happen.”

“Hey.” He traced a curl of dark hair that tickled along her cheek. She was so soft and smelled like precious things. “I don't want to force you to change or to be something you're not. But you did make an exception for me.”

“I have. I think I even want to meet your wolf.”

“Really? What have you been smoking, Blyss? Must have been some strong chemicals in those cleaning products. You've had a drastic change of heart.”

“I think you got inside me.”

“Well.” He pumped his hips against her legs. He did have an erection, but that was impossible to avoid when holding her.

“In more ways than the physical,” she reiterated. “And I have to face the fact that you might never find the diamond. In a few days the world I've created for myself might forever change. I may have to face my own wolf.”

“I'm doing everything I can to stop that from happening, lover.”

“And why are you doing that? You, the man who told me he wants to settle down with a wolf and raise a pack of his own. You can't possibly fall in love with me. And I've told you happily-ever-after is out of the question. Why are you helping me, Stryke?”

Why, indeed?
Did
he feel more for her than lust and adoration? Could he possibly be falling in love with the wrong woman? The one woman who was completely the opposite of his ideal mate?

No. He wasn't stupid. He'd entered into this relationship knowing full well it could never satisfy him. It was a fling. In a few more days he'd leave Paris for home, destined to pine for a werewolf wife who may never become reality.

But until then.

“You deserve kindness,” he said and kissed her nose. “And I want to see you happy. Even if that means you'll never howl again.”

She tilted her head against his shoulder. “I haven't howled for a long time.”

“If you get your supply restocked before the full moon, you won't shift?”

She shook her head.

“So you don't need sex the days before and after the full moon?”

All werewolves felt the compulsion to shift the day before the full moon, the day of and the day following. Generally, they tried to shift only one day a month. The werewolf needed that release. But as well, to shift more often was risky. Living among humans required a delicate balance between their wereself and the animal within. And the only way to calm the inner wolf on the days before and after the full moon was to have sex until satiated. It was a nice bonus.

“I don't need to satiate my wolf,” Blyss said. “But I would love to be there to help you satisfy yours.”

Score! Maybe he wouldn't need the cottage in the woods Rhys had offered, after all. But there was still the night of the full moon. He had to shift. Stryke would never deny that instinctual desire.