His peaceful evening was about to be destroyed.
Surging to his feet, he watched in annoyance as the tiny gargoyle waddled into his office.
“Who the hell let you in?” he growled.
Levet stuck out his tongue. “Darcy, of course. She adores me.”
She did. That was the only reason this aggravating creature wasn’t stuffed and mounted over his fireplace.
“Get out,” Styx snapped.
Levet puffed out his chest, his ugly little features set in a stubborn expression. “Not until I receive my reward.”
“Reward?” Styx frowned in confusion. “Reward for what?”
“For saving you.”
The chandelier overhead trembled at the force of Styx’s blast of temper. “You hit me with a rock.”
“Oui. I was trying to distract the bad vampire.”
“Then why didn’t you throw a rock at him?”
“I missed.” Levet smile was pure innocence. “But it worked out for the best. The vampire was distracted, and you cut off his head. Winner winner turkey dinner.”
Styx narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t fooled. Not for a minute. The little bastard had deliberately hit him with that rock.
“Someday,” he snarled.
* * * *
Xi finished polishing the brass knob he’d just installed in the wooden door and stepped back. It’d taken almost two weeks and his super vampire speed, but he’d finally finished building the cottage in the center of the devastated village.
The white stones and thatched roof looked out of place against the landscape, which was a sickly gray from the evil that had cloaked this place for so long. But the toxic fog was gone, and eventually the heather and sage would return. When that happened, he would plant a garden at the back of the cottage.
Satisfied he’d created something that would make Brigette proud, he pulled the two daggers from beneath his coat.
He held the matching pair flat in his palms, the memory of finding Brigette’s weapon in the basement seared in his mind.
He’d been so close.
After using Maryam’s necklace to enter Salvatore’s lair, he’d easily caught the scent of his female. He’d raced through the house, determined to protect her, but even as he’d charged into the pantry, the flames had engulfed her. When the fire had at last faded, there’d been nothing left but the dagger.
Numb with disbelief, Xi had grabbed the weapon and headed to Ireland. At first, he didn’t know why he was compelled to travel to the remote, devastated village.
Was it his grief? Was it driving him to be closer to the one place Brigette called home? That would be the reasonable place to mourn her loss. But even as he’d huddled in the barren landscape, the ocean wind whistling a soulful song over the shattered foundations, he’d realized it wasn’t enough.
He was still numb, waiting for the crippling pain to hit.
He needed to build a shrine to his mate, he’d realized. A place where he could feel her presence. Or perhaps he just needed to stay busy to maintain his sanity.
Whatever the reason, his task was completed. Now he was going to…
His thoughts were fractured as the daggers slowly lifted off his palms.
Xi hissed in horror as they floated midair. Magic. It had to be. But how?
He stumbled back, watching as the daggers began to spin, twirling faster and faster as a bright glow surrounded them.
“No!” Xi roared in fury.
The dagger was his last tangible connection to Brigette. He damned well wasn’t going to let it be destroyed.
Impervious to the potential danger of touching the glowing magic, Xi reached out to snatch the daggers. His fingers passed through the unnatural light, wrapping around a thick hilt. There was a sizzle of energy that crackled like electricity. Or a lightning bolt.
Expecting to be scalded by the weird magic, Xi instead found himself pulled forward by the weight of the dagger. With an effort, he regained his balance, frowning in confusion. It wasn’t until he lifted his arm that he saw that he wasn’t holding a dagger, but a sword.
Somehow the magic had fused the two daggers to create a new weapon.
In amazement, he studied the slender silver blade, with its exquisitely thin edge, before turning his attention to the hilt, which was designed with intricate symbols.
What was happening?
Did the village still possess the magic of the Weres who lived and died here? That would explain the sudden musk that teased at his nose and the distant howl…
Wait. A howl?
Spinning toward the nearby cliff, he watched in amazement as a large, white wolf padded toward the village.
If his heart was beating, it would have halted at the sight of the creature.
He’d never seen anything so magnificent.
There was a proud elegance in the creature as it moved toward him, then there was a shimmer of magic, and the wolf transformed into a beautiful, naked woman.
She was tall and slender, with brilliant red hair that now had a streak of pure white above one temple. Her eyes were golden with the power of her beast, but Xi knew that they would melt to a rich brown when he held her in his arms.
Brigette.
Falling to his knees, he allowed the sword to drop.
Suddenly, he understood.
He understood why he hadn’t been able to grieve. Why he’d been compelled to travel to this place. Why he’d built the cottage.
His soul had known his mate wasn’t dead. He’d been preparing to be reunited with her.
But understanding in his heart didn’t explain it to his brain.
Waiting until she was standing directly in front of him, Xi straightened, his hand tentatively reaching out to touch her cheek. A lingering fear was banished as he felt the warmth of her velvet-soft skin and caught her sweet scent.
She was different. He could sense her wolf prowling just below the surface. And there was that amazing streak of white in her hair. But this was Brigette.
His woman. His mate.
“How?” he rasped, his fingers trailing down the curve of her neck.
She leaned against him, the heat of her naked flesh driving away the ice that had formed in the center of his being.
“I’m not sure,” she told him. “One moment, I was being consumed by the flames, and the next, I was transformed into my animal form, lying in a misty darkness. I assumed my wolf had called me to the spirit-world.”
Xi continued to stroke his fingers downward, tracing the strong width of her shoulder. His bold warrior.