With a rasping groan he lifted his hips off the bed and sank as deep within her as he could go.

"Bloody hell, angel," he gasped.

"Wow." She flopped onto his chest with a deep sigh. "Are you healed?"

Styx smiled wryly as he glanced down to where the arrow had pierced his chest. He had forgotten all about the wound.

No surprise there.

"I am as good as new," he said.

"As good as new, eh?" She propped herself on her arms to make her own diagnosis. Styx groaned as the movement made him harden inside her. She seemed unaware of the danger as she stared at his chest with obvious interest. "Good lord, there's barely a mark."

"Your blood is far more potent than most humans'," he said huskily.

She grimaced at his words. As if not pleased at being reminded she was not entirely human.

"That's quite a tattoo you've got going on there," she said, clearly determined to change the conversation.

Styx glanced down at the golden dragon with its crimson wings that was etched over his skin. He had possessed it for so many years that he rarely recalled he even carried the demon mark.

"It's not a tattoo."

Her brows arched in disbelief. "You're not going to convince me that it's a birthmark."

"No. It's the mark of CuChulainn."

She regarded him blankly. "And that would be?"

He paused. He found himself reluctant to discuss the violent trial by combat. Not out of concern for revealing secrets. But quite simply because of her innate innocence.

"The mark of a clan chief," he at last admitted. "It is given after enduring the battles of Durotriges."

She wrinkled her pretty nose. "I'm afraid to ask."

"They are an organized means of choosing our leaders. I assure you that while they are bloody and often lethal, they prevent open warfare."

She was unimpressed by his claim. Of course, she had no notion of the endless years of barbaric hostilities they had endured. Or the brutal slaughter of hapless demons caught in the fray.

Styx, however, remembered all too vividly.

It was the only reason he had agreed to be shoved into the position of the Anasso.

"Have you ever thought about just voting for a leader?"

His fingers clutched at her hips as she shifted and sent a flare of pure heat through his body.

"We are not yet that civilized, angel," he said huskily. "Besides, we have to have some fun."

There was a hint of censure in her gaze. "There are many less violent means of having fun."

"I find myself in complete agreement, angel." With a deliberate motion he rolled his hips upward, a smile touching his lips as she gave a soft gasp. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"I think you've done quite enough demonstrating," she warned, although her body didn't seem to agree.

In fact, she reacted with a ready passion as he slowly began to thrust at a steady pace.

"Never enough," he whispered. "I will never have enough of you, angel."

"Styx..."

Whatever she was about to say was lost as he abruptly rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body.

Eventually dawn would arrive and he would have to sleep to recover his strength.

Until then he intended to fully enjoy this rare time alone with his beautiful prisoner.

It was hours later before Darcy at last returned to her rooms and climbed into a hot tub to soak her weary body.

She was sore, but it was the sweetest sort of pain.

Sweet and rather frightening.

Closing her eyes as she floated in the vast tub, Darcy heaved a faint sigh.

It wasn't that she was frightened of Styx, although he could be unnerving when he wanted. It was more her own reactions that made her a bit squirmy.

Great sex was one thing. Something never to be taken for granted or dismissed lightly. But the past few hours with Styx had gone way beyond great sex.

Cuddled in his arms she had felt cherished in a way she had never before experienced. As if she had been more than just a warm body and convenient blood donor. As if they had been connected beyond the mere flesh.

As if... as if she weren't quite so alone in the world.

Disturbed by her thoughts, Darcy briskly scrubbed herself clean before leaving the tub and thankfully pulling on her own jeans and comfortable sweatshirt.

It was a relief to have her clothes. A sense of familiarity in very unfamiliar surroundings.

After brushing her teeth and running a comb through her hair, she headed back downstairs. Her life had always been far too hectic to allow for much primping. She was a low-maintenance sort of gal.

Which suited her just fine.

The sun had set by the time she entered the kitchen, but there was no sign of anyone stirring. No doubt the Ravens were scurrying through the tunnels to ensure nothing was allowed to sneak up on their master, and Levet would be scouring the woods in search of wild game.

Ick.

Thankfully her own dinner had been left by the housekeeper. A truly gifted woman who had managed a tofu stir-fry that melted in Darcy's mouth.

Perhaps when she had enough money to open her health food store she could lure the woman away from Viper, she thought. A few shelves of prepared meals that tasted like this would bring in customers from all over the city.

After polishing off her dinner, Darcy washed the dishes and then aimlessly wandered toward the solarium. Although she had lived alone most of her life, she found the vastness of the house increased her sense of isolation.

Or perhaps she was simply becoming too accustomed to Styx's companionship.

A dangerous thought.

Firmly shaking off the flutter of panic, she entered the solarium and moved to tend to her recovering plants. She had no need of a gorgeous, aggravating vampire to give her life meaning.

If she had learned nothing else in the past thirty years it was that she had to depend on herself to find fulfillment.

Humming beneath her breath, she spritzed the plants with water and gently plucked off a handful of wilting leaves. She was just considering the necessity of pruning her overgrown fern when a sound behind her had her abruptly whirling in surprise.

Her surprise only deepened as she watched the slender woman with long black hair, oddly bronzed skin, and golden eyes walk toward her.

The stranger was stunningly beautiful, but even to her untrained eye she sensed that she was something other than human.

Not a vampire. But something.

Coming to a halt directly before Darcy, the woman slowly smiled and any unease at her less than human status was forgotten.

There was an entire world of kindness in that smile.

"Am I disturbing you?" she asked gently.

"Not at all." Darcy tilted her head to one side. "Are you a friend of Styx?"

"Not precisely. I'm Shay, and you must be Darcy."

"Shay." It took a moment before Darcy's eyes widened with recognition. "Viper's ... mate?"

The woman chuckled at her hesitant tone. "Yes, for my sins."

Darcy wasn't certain why she was caught off guard. Shay was certainly lovely enough to have captured the elegant vampire's attention. But there was something earthy and warm about the woman. Viper ... well, not so much.

At the thought of the silver-haired vampire Darcy clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Oh, you shouldn't be here."

Shay gave a lift of her brow. "I shouldn't?"

"I know this is your house, but I think this solarium was supposed to be a surprise."

The woman laughed as she glanced around the beautiful room. "Viper isn't nearly as sly as he believes he is. I've known for weeks that he was planning this." She returned her attention to Darcy with a wink and a smile. "Still, I won't tell him if you don't. Men can be so sensitive when they think they're being clever."

Darcy couldn't help but return the smile. "I won't say a word."

Shay moved to settle on a padded bench. "I hope that you're comfortable here. Well, as comfortable as you can be, considering that you're being held against your will." She gave a tug on the long braid that had fallen over her shoulder. "Someday I'm going to plant a stake in Styx's heart regardless if he's the bloody Anasso or not."

"The Anasso?" Darcy questioned.

"Master of all vampires." Shay rolled her eyes. "And doesn't he just know it."

"He does have a certain arrogance about him," Darcy admitted.

"A certain arrogance? Ha! He could write the book on cold-blooded pride."

A frown touched Darcy's brow. Granted Styx had taken her captive. And he could be aloof and distant at times. But she also knew that he possessed wonderful qualities that he kept hidden from most.

"He takes his responsibilities very seriously. Perhaps too seriously at times," she said in a quiet tone. "But, he can be quite kind and gentle once you get to know him."

Her guest gave a choked cough, but seeming to sense Darcy's dislike in speaking ill of Styx, she managed a faint smile.

"I'll have to take your word on that."

"If you're here to see him I'm afraid he hasn't yet risen."