Levet by Alexandra Ivy
CHAPTER 1
Midnight in Paris
Walking through the dark shadows beneath the Eiffel Tower, Levet avoided the human tourists who strolled along the sidewalk to admire the carnival atmosphere that spilled through the streets despite the late hour.
Something inside of him seemed to bloom as he savored the sights and sounds that he’d been denied for so long.
He loved Paris.
It was the city of his birth.
The city where he’d first spread his wings and soared toward the night sky. The city where he’d first lost his heart to a naughty imp who’d lured him beyond the few cottages that were all that made up the early town and taught him how to please a woman.
And the city where his greatest enemies resided.
Enemies who also happened to be his family.
His sense of homecoming vanished like a bubble being popped.
Being different wasn’t admired among the gargoyles. And, when it had been determined he was never going to grow beyond his miniscule three-foot stature and that his wings were going to remain as delicate as a dew fairy’s that shimmered in hues of blue and crimson and gold, he was tossed away like a piece of rubbish.
No. He scrunched his ugly gray face into a grimace, his long tail twitching at the unwelcomed memories.
He’d been more than tossed away. He’d been banished. Shunned by his own people.
With an effort, he squashed the painful recollections and reminded himself he was no longer that frightened enfant.
Far from it.
Just a few weeks ago he’d stood up to the baddest of the bad.
He, Levet the Gargoyle, hero of all ages, had defeated the Dark Lord and his hordes of minions.
Cue swelling music.
Okay, there had perhaps been a few vampires and Weres who helped destroy the bastard. And Abby had been there, the current Goddess of Light. Oh, and a Sylvermyst or two. And curs . . .
But he’d been the one who had struck the killing blow.
Right before the Dark Lord had skewered him with a lightning bolt that had burned straight through his chest and into his heart. If it hadn’t been for Yannah’s swift action he would even now be nothing more than toast.
Extra-crispy toast.
He heaved a rueful sigh, not quite as grateful as he should be.
The pretty, flighty, lethally dangerous female demon was enough to make any poor man’s head spin.
For weeks she’d led him on a merry dance, appearing and then disappearing. Kissing him one minute and slugging him on the chin the next.
It had been . . . exasperating. But also thrilling.
What male did not love the danse de l’amour?
But after she’d rescued him from the cellar of the warehouse where he’d halted the looming apocalypse, she’d taken him to her cozy little home.
In hell.
Literally.
Fire. Brimstone. Ghouls.
And a full-blood Jinn as a next-door neighbor.
Not the most comfortable place for a gargoyle who was never so happy as when he was soaring across a star-spangled sky.
And then there was Yannah.
The female made him natty.
Or was it nutty?
Whatever.
She had gone from a charming, elusive tease to a female who was determined to smother him with her fussing and fretting. Sacrebleu. His wounds had fully healed. Well, unless you counted the bit of charred skin in the center of his chest. It was annoying to be coddled like he was a helpless bébé.
At last he’d had enough.
He needed space to breathe.
And more than that, he had a few ghosts to lay to rest.
Speaking of ghosts . . .
Halting just beyond the Eiffel Tower, Levet muttered a curse as he caught the scent of moldy granite. He’d known it wouldn’t take long for the whispers of his arrival to reach the ears of his brethren.
No one gossiped worse than a clutch of gargoyles.
Still, he’d hoped that he could at least reach his mother’s lair before being attacked.
Landing with enough force to send tiny quakes through the street, the two gargoyles (one male and the other female) spread a spell of illusion to hide them from the passing mortals.
Levet grimaced. The two were everything that Levet was not.
Towering over six feet with leathery wings that they tucked close to their massive bodies, they were creatures who would cause nightmares even among the demon world.
Their gray skin was the texture of an elephant hide and absorbed the moonlight. They had stunted horns that could smash through steel and long tusks that could pierce through armor. It was, however, their brutal features that truly reflected their savage natures.
Cold, ruthless, viciously unforgiving.
“Well, well,” the female drawled, her gray eyes holding a cruel amusement that sent a chill down Levet’s spine. “If it isn’t my prodigal brother.”