from his mouth.
'I do not like you,' Darius told him, weighing a jewel-studded goblet in his palms. He offered the words with a kind of still repose, a natural assurance only the most confident of people possessed. 'You remind me of a blood- sucking vampire.'
Mitch pulled at his plain blue tie. 'There, uh, are no such thing as vampires.'
'Nor dragons, I'm sure,' Darius answered.
All color drained from the man's face, showcasing the thin hollows of his cheeks. His gaze widened, and he transferred his attention between Darius and the goblet. 'That's right,' he said brokenly, reaching out instinctively for the artifact.
Darius tsked under his tongue. He tossed the cup in the air, caught it, then tossed it again. When he caught it for a second time, he said casually, 'Since you are an unbeliever, you'll never have to worry about being eaten alive by a dragon.' He arched a brow. 'Will you?'
On a strangled gasp, Mitch shoved to his feet, his chair rolling behind him as he anchored his palms on his desk surface. 'Set that down before I call security. All I've done is try to help, and this is how you treat me. You may show yourselves out.'
'I have seen these objects before,' Darius remarked, staying right where he was and giving the goblet a few more tosses.
'In Archeologist Digest , I'm sure.' Mitch cast a desperate, fleeting glance to Grace.
She struggled not to glare at him.
'Now, please,' he added. 'I have work to do, and I'm sure you don't want to take up any more of my time.'
After replacing the goblet, Darius palmed a vase boasting a colorful array of dragons etched around the edges. 'Where did you find this?'
A pause. A cough. 'Madrid. I really need to get back to work.'
'I would swear on my life it belonged to a friend of mine. Perhaps you have heard of him. His name is-or was-Javar ta 'Arda. He gifted his wife, Teira, with a vase identical to this one on the eve of their mating.'
'Perhaps you should put that down.' Mitch nervously licked his lips. 'I meant it when I said I'd call security. I don't want to, but I will.'
Darius returned the vase to its perch, letting it wobble ominously at the edge. 'As I was saying a moment ago, I do not like you. But Grace has asked me not to kill anyone today. Still,' he added after a loaded pause, 'there is always tomorrow.'
With that, he strode from the office. That's my man , Grace thought proudly.
'Have a nice day, Mitch,' she said, flicking him one last glance. His features were so pallid he resembled a ghost-or vampire. He was reaching out, racing around his desk in his haste to save the vase from annihilation.
As she chased after Darius, she heard the shatter of porcelain, the howl of a man. Both buoyed her spirits, and she bit back a smile.
Lost in the intensity of his thunderous emotions, Darius stared straight ahead as he and Grace strode toward her home. 'Do you think Alex is okay?' she asked, her voice so low he had to strain to hear.
'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.
