"For now. He has something they want. Otherwise, they would have killed him long ago."
That kept her quiet for a long while. "Where do you think he's being kept?"
"Atlantis."
She paused midstep, before jumping back into stride. "But you checked. You said he wasn't there."
"He wasn't. Then. The vision of Alex confirmed that, for he was here on the surface. However, after meeting the cowardly Mitch I suspect he has already been moved."
"How do we find out where he's being kept in Atlantis? Interrogate Mitch? Break into Argonauts?"
"No," he answered. "We are more likely to find what we need in Jason Graves's place of residence." But more than that, breaking into Jason's home would supply him with a better understanding of the man he would soon fight.
Oh, yes. Fight Jason he would. His anticipation grew with every second that passed.
"You're right." Grace brightened and curled her lush, rosy mouth with anticipation. Her features were so lovely his chest hurt when he looked at her. "Since he's out of town ," she sneered the word, "today is the perfect day to let ourselves into his apartment."
"We will go tonight, when the shadows can hide us."
"After that are you," she faltered, "are you going home?"
"I must obtain the vests first."
They neared Grace's door, and she withdrew a key. "I want to go with you when you return."
"No. Absolutely not."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Get inside. Now." He gave her a gentle shove past the entrance. "There is something I must do before I join you." A dark storm churned inside him. He needed some type of release, needed to plan his next move. But more than that, he needed some sort of distance from Grace and his growing feelings for her.
He did not give her time to ask him any more questions. He simply closed the door in her stunned, beautiful face. "I will be right here if you need me," he said through the wood.
Perhaps it was his imagination, or perhaps he was seeing more clearly than ever before, but in his mind's eye he watched her fingertips caress the slat of wood, watched her press her lips together, and her gaze sadden. She didn't know what was happening within him and that worried her. This was not the first time she'd worried for him, and each time it touched him deeply, softened him somehow.
He waited until he heard the lock click in place before he stepped away and began pacing back and forth through the hallway. He would have liked to explore this New York, but the binding spell prevented any great distance between him and Grace. Occasionally humans strode past him and gave him a curious stare, but no one stopped and questioned him.
I want to go with you , Grace had said.
He blanched at the thought of taking her back to his home, even as joy flooded him. How he would have loved to splay Grace upon his bed, her naked body open and eager for him. He craved the reality of that.
The thought of being without her left him cold.
And the acknowledgment of that coldness left him reeling.
Tomorrow he would have to leave. He had moments of utter strength, and moments of utter weakness. No matter what he learned or didn't learn, no matter what he acquired or didn't acquire, he would have to return home in the morning, or he didn't think he'd have the strength to transport himself to the mist. Yet he still had so much to do.
He still had to kill Grace.
Could he, though? Could he harm her?
Darius didn't have to think about it. No. He couldn't.
The answer sliced through him as sharply as a blade. He could not hurt sweet, innocent Grace in any way.
She captivated him on so many different levels. He was coming to depend on her in a way he'd once considered impossible, craving the emotions she made him feel with the same ferocity he'd once hated them. Without her, he was not fully alive.
He'd watched her stand up to that man, Mitch, and he'd felt pride. She hadn't backed down. She'd questioned him without revealing her hurt, without crumbling under the need to administer justice. She was a woman of strength and honor, a woman of love and trust.
His woman.
Silently his boots pounded into the carpet. He drew in the rich scent of food that seemed to encompass this entire building, this city, and steered his mind on to his own home. Javar and all of the dragons of that unit were dead. Dark sorrow wove through his blood as he at last admitted the truth. He'd known it beyond a doubt the moment he spied the treasures of Javar's home displayed so mockingly inside Argonauts.
His friends were dead, he repeated in his mind. They'd died by guns, most likely. Guns… and vampires. Perhaps the Book of Ra-Dracus had even helped. No matter what had happened, no matter what had been done, he would have vengeance.
This was what came of allowing humans to know of Atlantis; this was what Javar warned him of.
While Javar had not been an easy man to know, he had been like a father to Darius. They had understood each other. When Teira entered Javar's life, the man had softened and the bond between tutor and student had deepened, ever as it widened. What a senseless death. A needless death. He'd lost no one close to him since the murder of his family. And now trickles of pain, both past and present, rose within him like a tide of water, seeping insidiously past his defenses and eroding the very fabric of his detachment. A sharp ache stabbed him, and he gripped his chest.
Deny your tears and keep the hurt inside you, boy. Use it against those who mean us harm. Kill them with it.
Javar had said one variation after another of those words. He wouldn't want Darius to mourn him, but mourn him Darius did. He would not have survived those first years without Javar, without the purpose his tutor had given him.
He should have killed the human man, Mitch, Darius thought dispassionately. He should have killed both human men. Mitch and Patrick. They each had knowledge of the mist, had most likely entered and had played a part in Javar's death. Had he destroyed them, however, he felt certain Grace's brother would have been killed in retaliation.
More than that, he hadn't wanted Grace to view him as a killer. Protector, yes. Lover, most definitely. But ruthless slayer? No longer.
He could only guess at how she would react if she fully beheld the beast inside him. Tremble with fear and disgust? Run from him as if he were a monster? He didn't want her scared of him; he wanted her pliant. Welcoming. He just wanted her, all of her. Now… and perhaps always.
He'd come so close to losing control with the one called Patrick, and it had required a conscious effort to calm himself. Coming face-to-face with the man who had run his fingertips over Grace's sleeping body had infuriated him. Only he was allowed to touch her. Only he, Darius, was allowed to gaze at her luscious curves and imagine her stripped and open, ready and eager.
She belonged to him.
He wished to give her the world, not take it from her.
He wished to fill her days with excitement and her nights with passion. He wished to protect her, honor her and devote himself to her needs. He could not let her go, he realized now. Not ever. He needed her for she was his heart. His emotions had never been mild where she was concerned but as unstoppable as a turbulent storm.
I'll never be able to harm her . The admission solidified inside him. His deepest male instincts had known since the beginning. The woman was a part of him, the best part, and hurting her would destroy him .
There was a way to have it all, he decided. A way to keep her from harm, a way to keep her for himself and still honor his oath.
He had only to figure out what that was.
CHAPTER 17
With the stolen medallion in his pocket, Alex clasped Teira's hand in his, grateful for her warmth, her softness and her strength.