Fallon was settled in the center of the floor, watching the images flicker in the bowls as she seethed over the vampire’s assumption that she was going to become another notch on his bedpost.
Or at least, she told herself it was anger that was heating her blood and sending tiny quakes through her body. Because there was no way she was going to admit that it might be heart-pounding, gut-wrenching desire.
That was . . . unacceptable.
The oversized vampire was just like her worthless fiancé.
No, wait. That wasn’t fair.
Magnus was an aloof, self-absorbed bastard who considered his giggling gaggle of groupies his right because he was a prince.
Cyn, on the other hand, was a charming brute who obviously adored women. And if Fallon was being completely honest with herself, she’d admit that her anger was directed more at her own reaction to his experienced touch.
She might not want to admit that she was as susceptible as the next female to a blatant playboy, but there was no doubt a very large part of her wanted to ignore her duty to her father and her virginal wedding bed.
How would it feel to forget she was a princess and just give in to the passion that exploded through her whenever Cyn was near?
A tiny shiver of anticipation raced through her body.
She sensed he would be a powerful lover. But tender. And thorough. Head to toe, and everywhere in between, thorough.
The sort of lover that would make a woman know she was in the hands of an expert.
Lost in the fantasy of being deliciously ravished by the vampire clan chief, Fallon was unaware of the tiny gargoyle who was silently crossing the room. Not until she nearly jumped out of her skin when a soft, male voice spoke directly into her ear.
“Bonsoir, ma belle.”
“Levet,” she breathed in shock, not sure if she was relieved or annoyed at having her dangerous fantasies interrupted. She settled on relieved. Her body was still flushed and aching from Cyn’s teasing caresses. Did she truly want to spend the rest of the night plagued by her unfulfilled desire? Or worse . . . give in to the temptation to track down Cyn and finish what he started? She made a choked sound, squashing the last thought as a white-hot excitement sizzled through her. Grimly she forced herself to focus on the small demon studying her with a shrewd gaze. “Did you find something to eat?”
“Oui,” the gargoyle assured her, patting his rounded little belly. “A farmer’s wife was kind enough to share her shepherd’s pie.”
Fallon blinked in surprise. She’d spied on this world long enough to know that few humans realized that there were demons living among them.
“She wasn’t frightened to be visited by a gargoyle?”
“It is possible that she was not precisely aware of her generosity.” Levet cleared his throat, his tail twitching. “It did not seem polite to wake her and ask her permission when she was sleeping so soundly.”
Fallon hid a smile. “Very thoughtful of you.”
“Oui, I am a very thoughtful demon.” He gave a small sniff. “Unlike some.”
Hmm. Fallon didn’t need to be a mind reader to guess who he was referring to. “I assume you mean Cyn?”
Levet pursed his lips. “I am, of course, delighted to be of service to you, ma belle, but he could at least have allowed me to finish my meal.”
“Be of service?”
Waddling across the room, Levet halted in front of the massive fireplace and spoke a low word of magic. Instantly the pile of logs caught fire, filling the room with a welcome heat.
“Cyn seems to believe that you will freeze to death if I do not ensure that there is a fire lit in each room you might enter,” Levet muttered, turning to glance toward the empty pots that had held the nectar she’d consumed just minutes after Cyn had left. A blush touched her cheeks. It wasn’t her fault she’d devoured the entire stash. She was an emotional eater. “He also insisted that I monitor your food intake.”
Her brows snapped together. “Why?”
“He feared you might allow your magic to drain you if there wasn’t someone near to remind you to replenish your strength.”
“Oh.” A perilous warmth spread through her heart. “He said that?”
Levet rolled his eyes. “It was really more of a growl.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Oui. I am to contact him immediately if I suspect that you are in danger of burning out.”
“Burning out?”
“Using too much magic.”
She shook her head, wondering what game Cyn was playing. Or maybe he was just demented.
That would explain how he could jump from the unwelcoming host, to the determined seducer, to the fussing mother hen. All in the space of a couple of hours.
His moods changed faster than a drunken dew fairy.
“I’m in no danger,” she said.
A part of her wanted to be annoyed that Cyn would question her ability to take care of herself.