Hold Their Peace (Vampire Assassin League) (2 page)

She had to thank their rescuer and not just look him over. But hey. This was exactly what she’d been talking about! Only even better. Here was a definite hot guy. A
tall
hot guy. With a body that looked like a fitness trainer. He was a little on the brutal side...but hey again. He’d saved them. And those guys didn’t look like the type to play with. Their rescuer tipped his head and narrowed his eyes, and darn everything but with the light source behind him, it wasn’t possible to see him well. And here she’d been thanking the dimness just a few seconds before.

“Uh...hi?” she offered.

Nothing. Maybe he didn’t speak English, but she was woefully inadequate at secondary languages.

“Thank you?” she continued. And this time she nodded.

“I don’t think...he understands you.”

Lizbeth spoke from Darcy’s side, answering the state of her health and mental faculties with the same breath. No worries there. But Darcy wasn’t moving her eyes to check anything. The way this guy watched her was hypnotic. Every cell on her body was affected. Or something worse was happening. It was probably the near-death experience combined with watching this guy take out five men in about six seconds.

“Are you an angel?” she asked next.

He grinned, and then he spoke, altering the elements with one hell of a voice. She supposed it matched the view, but she could’ve done without the slight chuckle he gave at the end of his one word.

“No.”

“A...god?”

She actually asked it next, although the words were faint. He looked disbelieving. Her expression probably matched. She couldn’t believe she was asking. She didn’t need his laughter, either.

“Afraid not.”

Damn. He had a voice and a half. It sent a solid shiver up her back, down her legs, and racing along her arms. All at once. She almost hugged herself.

“Okay. I give. And Lizbeth gives.
What
are you, then? A concerned citizen who just happens to fly? And was just in the vicinity at dark-thirty, with a sword, and looking for a couple of women to rescue?”

He sobered. And the next moment he was right in front of her, somehow leaping the column without one bit of effort. Darcy was going to faint or something close to it. Her heart swooped into her lower belly while her pulse was singing with more rapidity than the murderers had caused. And the shiver feeling was increasing. Overwhelming. Every breath got harder and harder to make. And they carried a hint of scent. Raw. Male. There was a myriad of flying images in the air about his head, too. She’d call them dots, but they wouldn’t stand still long enough to verify it.

He really had mesmeric eyes, too. Especially at this range. Dark. Intense. Consuming.

“I’m a vampire.”

That reply came from a long way away. And it wasn’t possible. Or likely. Or even real. But everything on her body ratcheted to an even higher degree as he seemed to move even closer, violating personal space and then some.

“Right.”

Lizbeth answered for her. Darcy didn’t know if her mouth would work. Or if her mind would control the output. She watched his lips twist as if he knew, too!

“You don’t believe me?”

He may be addressing her friend, but he wasn’t moving one iota of attention from Darcy. She swallowed. Her ears popped. She found him totally believable. And infinitely intriguing.

“Uh...no. I don’t believe the authorities are going to believe it, either. I don’t suppose you have access to a SAT phone?” Lizbeth was a science major. That’s why she studied archeology. She had zero imagination and less belief in anything that couldn’t be proven. It showed in her words and tone, although the words shook.

“SAT phone?”

He was answering Lizbeth and at the same time sending waves of sensation at Darcy. It felt like tendrils wrapping all about her. Drawing her closer. She swore she could already feel her breasts smashed against his impressive pecs. Getting dampened by the contact and then seared by the heat. Oh dear. This was terrible.

And wonderful.

No.

Terrible.

“Yeah. SAT phone. We’ve got to report a major crime scene at a protected archeological site. Forget it. We’ll just scout out one of the missing guards and get it handled. But you might want to do a disappearing act in the interim.”

His forehead wrinkled. Something deep inside her whispered into being. Oh. This was terrible.

No.

Wonderful.

“Disappearing act?” he asked.

“Claiming vampirism is probably not going to get you out of a bit of police scrutiny over all these dead bodies. You’ll probably get some time in a cell. And I’d hate to see your valiant rescue of us repaid that way. You coming, Darcy?”

Darcy opened her mouth. He replied for her. And with words she wouldn’t have used.

“No. She is not. The Amazon is coming with me.”

Amazon?

And a moment later, she was airborne.

CHAPTER TWO

He lived in a cave. Or something akin to one. It was pitch black. Frighteningly so. It felt cavernous, too. Her breathing even echoed, when she could hear it above her heartbeat. Darcy’s boots touched solidness with a thump that jolted her knees. And then he opened his arms. Darcy almost grabbed for him as he moved away, leaving her. But that was stupid. She settled with clasping her arms about herself and hugging.

No way was she going to believe the vampire bit. Or the god stuff, although that was proof she’d spent way too much time watching and reading up on the subject of Greek mythology since that’s all Lizbeth stocked for entertainment. And since neither of those descriptions deserved merit, this guy had to be an angel. Yep. Her first impression had to be right. He was an avenging angel. Or maybe a fallen one.

Hmm
.

Getting rescued and then abducted by a fallen angel should be terrifying, not pretty damned stimulating. Her skin still ran with goose bumps from being held so tightly against him. Or perhaps it came from flying without any means of support. Like wings. Weren’t angels supposed to have wings? And if they did, wouldn’t there be a flapping motion? Honestly. Shouldn’t there be some evidence of flight other than the slight unease she’d experienced in her belly, the slip of air across her face, accompanied by tendrils of hair, and the popping of her ears?

She could’ve checked for how he’d moved.
Right, Darcy.
She didn’t even know for certain that he
had
flown. She’d been too surprised. Shocked. Stunned. Shaken. Scared. And enough of the “S” words already. She’d kept her eyes shut and continually counted, so she couldn’t be at all certain of anything. She didn’t even know how far he’d taken her, although she’d reached one thousand, four-hundred, and twelve in her count. That feat not only reiterated her OCD diagnosis from grammar school, but put a time of about twelve minutes of distance to it. That wasn’t remotely helpful, though, unless and until she added his speed of flight into the equation.

If
he really did fly.

Oh hell. She didn’t even know if this was a cave. Or just a great big void. Like death.

Wow. That thought hadn’t occurred to her until right now. Was this death, then? And just maybe instead of an escort by the grim reaper, she’d received a gorgeous angel-claiming-to-be-a-vampire instead? Was that it? Had he simply been sent to transport her to purgatory?
Purgatory?
Wasn’t that the place of temporary punishment while sins of the soul were weighed and destiny decided? Oh no. She was thinking in religious terms now? She must be really scared. The sum of everything just didn’t compute and this impenetrable blackness wasn’t remotely helpful. And she really needed to control her rampant imagination.

“Don’t move.”

The words touched her ear, making her jump slightly. They were also unnecessary. Like she needed that instruction. She hadn’t moved since he’d touched her. One thing was absolute fact, however. This guy had a fantastic voice. Full of deep tones that reached out and grabbed and then physically made her tremble. He was definitely rock solid, and all male, too. Her breasts were still tingly-feeling from where they’d been pressed right against rock-solid chest...while her arms had been wrapped about one trim waist. And...oh hell. Now her knees were wobbling.

Wow.

Darcy licked her lips. She really should stop the reminiscing.

A light came on, shedding a mellow light on what looked like a big leather couch situated with a couple of ottomans. Or maybe it was a grouping of furniture that market gurus liked to call a theater set. Whichever, they were about thirty feet away. Maybe more. Another light followed, even farther away. Every bit of illumination was accompanied by the slip of shadow as the vampire/angel man moved, turning on each light source. He had old, low-wattage bulbs, or something else that shed golden light, revealing a really large space, smoothed stone walls, and all kinds of shadowed niches.

And within those niches, it looked like metal glinted as each light was lit. Well. He hadn’t said she couldn’t move her eyes...and maybe her head. Darcy craned her neck a bit to check the closest niche. It contained what looked like a shield, a really intricate, amazingly detailed shield. With an embossed depiction of a coiled snake wrapped about a sword right in the center of it.

All right.

It appeared her first impression wasn’t far off. This definitely looked like a cave. And if he lived in a cave, might that mean something?
The facts, Darcy
. She was in Greece, she’d been transported to some weird realm, and hadn’t their god Zeus been hidden in a cave when his mother replaced him with a stone, so his father Kronus could swallow it rather than yet another child? And hadn’t Zeus lived in his cave to manhood so he could release his siblings from their father’s belly and they could all fight the other Titans for control of the cosmos? And hadn’t she just spent days watching this ridiculous story from one of Lizbeth’s more entertaining research shows? And what kinds of drugs were these ancient Greeks taking when they penned that stuff anyway?

It was a confusing jumble of just-learned, useless myths and legends in her head, and she wasn’t the artifact analysis archeologist student who’d just been awarded a big enough grant she could work on a dig site to earn her Master’s Degree. That was Lizbeth. Darcy was the roommate who’d quit college in her second year and worked as the dispatch clerk at a trucking company with a lot of loud, noisy, bearded, uncouth truckers. Truckers came in three types. Really skinny which meant they chained smoked. Or really hefty, which meant they chain-ate. Or really buff, since they’d just started and thought being a long-haul trucker was the epitome of great jobs.

Wait just a minute...

What the vampire/angel man was revealing with each light he turned on looked like a trucker’s idea of heaven. This was definitely a cave...on a colossal scale. Any male she knew would be salivating. Most of the women truckers, too. Darcy hazarded a glance upward. Yep. The ceiling was high enough she couldn’t see it. About the only thing he looked to be missing was a gigantic flat screen television. And maybe surround sound.

“I apologize.”

Darcy jumped at his voice, moving a full step backward. He was right in front of her, his arms full of large catalogs and magazines, while a lock of his hair appeared to have come loose from his band to reach a shoulder. He had dark brown hair, and even though she had some light now, she still couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. They were dark. And totally deep. There was a really strange buzzing noise in the air, as well.
Oh...wow, Darcy
. She broke the gaze and the sound halted instantly. But nowhere was safe to look. The view was spectacular. He really was gorgeous. Hot. Ripped. And since all he wore was a little mini-skirt thing fashioned of leather strips, sandals that laced to his knees, a large belt scoring his chest that held his huge-ass sword against his back, and a worried look, it was hard to get her mouth to work.

“Uh...”

“You’ll overlook the clutter?”

Darcy’s brows rose.

“I wasn’t expecting...company.”

Company? She’d been relegated to company? And he was worried over clutter? What kind of nonsense was this? And how was she supposed to answer as he moved even closer, taking over her personal space again? And worse. He just stood there; holding about fifty pounds of printed material like it was nothing. He wasn’t moving. Not a muscle. Not even to breathe.

“You do speak English, yes?”

Darcy cleared her throat and gave an answer. It wasn’t much, but at least her voice worked. Finally.

“Uh...usually.”

“Usually?”

“Listen. Uh. Yes. I speak English just fine. But...I’m going to have a hard time speaking anything if I have to look at you while I do it.”

Oh great, Darcy. What idiot was in control of her mouth?

He grinned. Her heart dropped again.

“I know the sensation,” he replied. “I’m having difficulty with words, as well.”

Okay. Darcy thought she’d had every pick-up line tried on her. This one was new. Her heart decided it would rather shove its way up to her throat, blocking any attempt at swallowing. Thank goodness he wasn’t watching! This was completely worrisome.

“I need to put these away. You won’t move? You’ll stay right here?”

He was really rather cute. He even appeared to flush as he asked it. Darcy nodded.

Man! The guy could move. One moment he was right in front of her, and the next he was way over on her left, opening a cabinet, shoving his stack of magazines and catalogs inside, and then slamming the door. A blink later he was back. All, without expending one bit of effort. No harsh breathing accompanied any of it. And she had a very good view of his torso. She’d be able to spot breathing. Or maybe she imagined his movement. And this cave. Flying. The death and chaos scene back at the archeological site. Maybe this was all a dream. Maybe he wasn’t even real. But that would mean the fallen angel theory was wrong. Darn. It had been a rather fun thought, too. Darcy inhaled. His entire frame seemed to tighten. Or something that made striations ripple through his pecs. And she really had to look away if she wanted to make sense when she spoke.