A Very Levet Christmas (Guardians of Eternity)

“You should not be here,” he breathed, knowing he should send her away. Instead his hands lifted to tenderly frame her face.

She wrinkled her nose, her fingers exploring over his chest. “Why not?”

Damon swallowed a groan. Flames of excitement spread through his body as she traced her fingers over his rigid muscles. He desperately wanted to strip her of her simple cotton dress and pull her against his rising erection. To wrap her legs around his waist so he could slide his throbbing cock deep into her moist heat.

He sucked in a deep breath, struggling to control his primal hungers.

As much as he might hunger for Gia, his need to protect her was even stronger.

So long as his mother lived, this female would be in danger.

“I told you, my mother is growing more unstable with every passing day,” he reminded his companion, leaning down to press an apologetic kiss to her lips. Instantly the tantalizing taste of warm woman and chamomile exploded on his tongue, making his wolf howl with need. “If she discovers you near the lair she will hurt you.”

Gia tilted her head to the side, silently inviting him to spread a trail of kisses down the length of her throat.

“Did you speak with her?” she softly demanded.

He gave a frustrated growl. He didn’t want to think about his endless battle with his mother. He wanted to concentrate on the feel of Gia’s satin skin beneath his lips.

“Briefly.”

“Did you tell her that you do not wish to be the king?”

“I . . .” Damon muttered a curse, feeling once again like a failure. “I tried.”

“Damon,” Gia chided softly.

“Give me time.”

The younger woman pulled back to study him with a troubled expression. “The longer you allow her to harbor her delusions, the worse it will be when she discovers the truth.”

“Please, Gia.” He wrapped her in his arms, tugging her hard against his body. “Just let me hold you.”

She immediately softened against him, her arms lifting to wrap around his neck. “Always, my darling.”

Damon groaned, his hands skimming up and down her back, feeling a growingly frantic urge to carry her far away from the cabin so they could be alone.

Just the two of them . . .

Thankfully, while his human body was consumed with pleasure, his wolf remained on full alert. Which meant he could hear the faint sound of footsteps crossing the wooden floor of the cabin.

“Mother,” he breathed, pulling back to meet Gia’s frustrated gaze. “You must go.”

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to argue, then catching sight of his tortured expression she gave a rueful nod.

“I will be waiting for you tomorrow at our spot.”

He dared one last kiss before pushing her toward the trees. “Go.”





Levet wasn’t often discombobulated.

He was a three-foot gargoyle who’d been removed from the Guild when he was barely old enough to be out of the nest. His life had been a series of life-or-death disasters.

But nothing could prepare a demon for being zapped back in time to witness a Were reliving his past.

After realizing that the man standing beside him had gone into some weird trance, or perhaps had left his body altogether, Levet had halted his attempts to waken the stubborn Were and instead watched the unfolding drama as the action had shifted from the cabin to the chilled Siberian landscape.

It’d been disturbing to witness the bleak and pathetic lack of affection in Damon’s childhood. Having been raised by a violent mother who’d devoted her life to making sure he understood he was nothing but a disappointment, Levet had first-hand knowledge of the pain that Damon must have felt.

Caught up in the tragedy, Levet was startled when the vision of Damon and Gia faded into mist, and the man next to him gave a hiss of angry bewilderment.

“Dammit.” He turned to glare at Levet. “What the hell is going on?”

Levet ignored the question. It wasn’t as if he had an answer, after all.

“Your father was Mackenzie,” he instead said. He didn’t know the full story of the previous Were king, but he’d heard the rumors that the Were had died because of his connection to black magic.

Damon’s expression hardened, his hand instinctively reaching to touch the medallion that lay against his chest. “He was.”

“And Briggs was your brother.”

“Half brother,” he corrected in sharp, warning tones.

“He was the one who tried to kill Salvatore, right?”

“Briggs was a fool who cared about nothing but his own pathetic glory. I had nothing to do with his demented plans.”

Levet shrugged. Clearly not a subject that the Were wanted to discuss.

Not surprising.

Families . . . Could not live with them, could not turn them into toads.

“Who was the woman?” Levet instead asked.

“Gia.”

“She’s very beautiful.”

“Exquisite.”

“Is she your mate?”

A heart-wrenching longing softened Damon’s grim expression. “If my life had been different.”