Stalk the Darkness

Book 19: Guardians of Eternity

by Alexandra Ivy

Genres: Paranormal Romance; Vampires

Synopsis

In New York Times bestselling author Alexandra Ivy's thrilling new romance, a vicious evil stalks two Guardians of Eternity, waiting to attack where they never expected . . .



Becoming a vampire nearly killed Satin. After decades in hiding to reach fighting strength, she swore never to be weak again. Instead, she flings herself into the joys of life. Like "combat practice" with Marco, the owner of the wildest club outside of Chicago. Getting a workout with the sizzling Were is the ultimate no-strings-attached pleasure. Until a chaos-strewing demon leaves Satin with an impossible, infuriating diagnosis: Vampires don't get pregnant.



Marco prides himself on being the perfect Were—strong, savage, and barely housetrained. But with Satin gone on her mysterious quest, he's compelled to follow. This raven-haired warrior might be his mate for all eternity. But a dark presence hovers around her. If Marco and Satin can't solve its riddle in time, there won't be any future to worry about . . .



Contains mature themes.

Release date: August 2, 2022

Publisher: Lyrical Press

Print pages: 256

Sample

Chapter 1

Every demon in Chicago could recognize Satin. It wasn’t just the fact that she was a stunningly beautiful vampire with thick black hair that tumbled down her back and a pale face dominated by eyes the precise shade of aged cognac. Or that she managed the Viper Pit, the most exclusive demon club in the city. It was the thunderous power that vibrated around her reed-slender body. The sort of power that was usually reserved for a clan chief.

Her notoriety meant that she was rarely challenged. By anyone. Something she appreciated when she was working, but it did ensure there wasn’t much variety in her life.

Until now.

Standing at the edge of the clearing, Satin absorbed the pulse of her surroundings. If her heart could beat, it would be thumping with excitement. Instead, it was her fully extended fangs that throbbed in anticipation.

The night air was laced with the scent of her prey. A rich male musk that was unique to pure-blooded Were. It whispered of power and sex and the most delicious pain. Relishing the raw, primitive sensations that vibrated through her, Satin stepped out of the thick fringe of trees and allowed the moonlight to bathe her in silver.

When she’d first sought out this secret club that sprawled over a thousand empty acres an hour south of Chicago, it had been to scope out the competition. Viper, the local clan chief and owner of the Viper Pit, wasn’t a male who shared his territory. If the Were was attempting to steal their customers, then she would shut him down. Permanently.

It had only taken one visit to realize that the Hunting Grounds was nothing like Viper’s club. There was no elegant building, no plush booths, nor any beautiful waiters delivering the finest champagne while soft music played in the background. This place was woodlands and overgrown fields and meadows that were shrouded in layers of magic. The demons didn’t come here to mingle or seek their eternal mates. They came to hunt and fight and enjoy meaningless sex with complete abandon.

Even better, the owner of the club, Marco, had strict rules that kept the bloodshed to a minimum. Every guest was there of their own free will, and any of them could call a halt to the game whenever they wanted.

It was a place for the most powerful demons to test their strength against each other without fear of lasting consequences. And if the night ended with a bout of sizzling sex…so much the better.

Which was exactly why Satin had returned over and over again. There were few creatures who could match her in a one-on-one battle. Perhaps Viper or Styx, who was the current King of Vampires. And there were even fewer demons who could stir her icy passions to a fever pitch.

As if on cue, a large male joined her in the clearing.

She hissed, as always stunned by the sight of Marco. Even for a pure-blooded Were, he was tall with broad shoulders and muscles that rippled beneath his white silk shirt and black slacks. His dark hair was cut short, emphasizing the chiseled symmetry of his features and his eyes, which were as dark as the pits of hell and circled with a rim of shimmering gold. It was the brutal heat and savage strength in the air when he was near that enticed Satin. He was not only the local pack master, but he was a cousin to Salvatore, King of Weres.

A perfect opponent.

In more ways than one.

Marco flashed a smug smile, folding his arms over his impressive chest. “I knew you would be here tonight.”

Satin felt a stab of irritation. Was the jerk implying she was predictable? Or that she simply couldn’t stay away? Either one pissed her off.

“You can read the future? Impressive.”

His smile widened. “I can’t read the future, but I can read you.”

The air dropped by several degrees. “Doubtful.”

His nose flared, a hint of his wolf flashing gold in the depths of his dark eyes. “I can smell your hunger.”

“Actually, I ate before I left my lair,” she drawled.

“You’re not hungry for food.”

“No?”

“You’re hungry for me.”

He was right, of course. It’d been nearly a week since she’d last visited the Hunting Grounds, and she’d grown increasingly restless. As if she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. But she’d have her fangs extracted before she let him know he’d struck a nerve.

“Of course, you would assume every female desires you.” She lifted her hand to her lips, as if stifling a yawn. “Males are so predictable.”

He tilted back his head, sniffing the soft breeze. “I can smell it in the air.” His voice thickened with his own desire. “But it’s not just sex. You want to prove you can match me in combat. And what better night to prove your superiority than on the night of the full moon?”

Satin stilled. She wasn’t a werewolf. She didn’t pay attention to the cycles of the moon. But she couldn’t deny the possibility that he was right. There might be an inner instinct to seek out this male when he was at the apex of his powers.

So what?

It didn’t change anything, did it?

No. Of course not.

Satin spread her arms in a mocking gesture. “I know one thing I didn’t come here for.”

He arched a dark brow. “What’s that?”

“Talking.”

He blinked, as if caught off-guard by her response. Heat prickled through the clearing, then with a flash of his snowy-white fangs, he lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

Satin smiled in anticipation, reaching up to make sure her hair was still tightly braided. She didn’t want any distractions. Before coming to the Hunting Grounds, she’d changed out of her designer gown and three-inch heels. The black spandex pants and sports bra clung to her rail-thin body like a second skin, and the soft leather boots were designed to allow her to move in complete silence. Perfect attire to kick some sexy Were ass.

Striding forward with the bold assurance of a predator who was at the top of the evolutionary ladder, Satin kept close watch on Marco. He pretended to be an arrogant brute like most of the customers at the club, with more ego than skill, but Satin wasn’t fooled. He was a lethal competitor who could shift into his wolf form at any moment.

Marco pulled back his lips, revealing his razor-sharp fangs that could rip through flesh and bone. The sight of them ignited a blast of desire that seared through her. She’d discovered a shocking addiction to fangs and claws and hot male skin pressed against her naked body.

They met in the center of the opening, the air sizzling with an electric energy that sent the local wildlife scurrying for cover. It was a battle between titans, and no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire.

For a long moment, they stared at one another, allowing the anticipation to build to a crescendo. Then, with a blur of motion, Satin was leaping forward, crashing into the male with enough force to knock him backward. With a grunt, he grabbed her arm, flinging her over his head as he regained his balance. Satin twirled to land on her feet and swiftly reversed his grip on her arm to yank him toward her. Marco growled, his eyes burning with the golden fire of his wolf as he snapped his teeth a breath from her face. Satin flashed her own fully extended fangs, a sharp chill clashing against Marco’s ferocious heat.

A heady musk teased Satin’s senses, promising pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. She leaned against Marco’s hard body, pretending to melt in submission. Marco released another growl, wrapping his arms around her slender waist as he lowered his head.

Using his distraction to her advantage, Satin whirled in a circle, kicking out to sweep his legs from beneath him.

Blindsided by her move, Marco did a complete backflip before he was flowing to his feet and pouncing toward her. Grabbing her by her shoulders, Marco leaned down to speak directly against her ear.

“Run.”

Any other time or place, Satin would have punished a male who dared to give her orders. She had a low tolerance for bossy creatures. No, not low. Zero. Zero tolerance. Even Viper took care when he was requesting her to deal with a task for him.

But this was part of the game. The rare occasion she could release the rigid grip she kept on her emotions and give in to her primitive desires.

With a speed impossible to track, Satin was flowing toward the nearby trees and disappearing into the shadows. Behind her, the howl of a wolf pierced the night. Satin laughed as she raced through the darkness, feeling the press of Marco’s power just behind her. It was exhilarating.

The scent of wolf was laced on the breeze, but the footsteps that were gaining on her were human. Marco had never shifted during their encounters. She didn’t know if it was because she was a vampire and he feared reminding her that they were natural enemies. Or if he simply didn’t have ample control when he was in his animal form.

Leaping over a fallen log, Satin was about to double back when hands grabbed her from behind.

Satin felt herself lifted off her feet and then tossed on the mossy ground. She didn’t struggle as she landed flat on her back. Instead, she studied Marco in silence as he crouched over her, his dark beauty emphasized by the feral glow in his eyes.

His wolf was just below the surface, watching her with a ruthless desire that was tangible. He was gloriously, decadently sexy.

And for tonight, he was all hers.

She stretched up her arms, wrapping them around his neck before she was using her leverage to flip their positions. In one smooth movement, Marco was lodged beneath her and Satin was perched on top, her legs straddling his hips.

A slow, wicked smile curved his lips.

“Do you always have to be on top, cara?”

She grasped his silk shirt, holding his smoldering gaze as she ripped the silk material to expose the smooth expanse of his chest.

Her fangs throbbed with an unexpected hunger. What the hell? She had a sudden, violent urge to drink his blood. As if she was starved for the taste of him.

No. She squashed the dangerous thought. What she wanted from this male was nothing more complicated than a primitive release. Anything else was a product of the adrenaline pumping through her.

Focusing on the raw passion that pulsated between them, Satin scored her nails down his chest. Not hard enough to cut through his skin, but enough to wrench a groan of pleasure from his lips.

“You’re rough on a man’s wardrobe, cara,” he murmured, his Italian accent thicker than usual.

“Are you complaining?”

He reached up to grasp her stretchy sports bra. With one yank he had it over her head and tossed on the nearby brush. Then he cupped her breasts in the searing heat of his hands.

“No complaints,” he assured her. “No complaints at all.”

Satin shivered, drowning in his rich musk.

“Your wolf is close tonight.”

“Full moon.” The words came out as a guttural rasp, his hands skimming down her rib cage to slide beneath the waistband of her pants. “And you.”

Satin wriggled, helping Marco strip off the thin spandex. He muttered a curse as he fumbled with the lacing on her boots, but Satin didn’t mind. Their sex was always hard and fast. She enjoyed having a minute to admire his fierce male features and the bulge of muscles beneath his smooth, golden skin.

Once she was naked, Satin ran her palms down his rock-hard stomach, investigating each ripple of his washboard abs. Even for a pureblood Were, this male was a beast. White-hot passion flared through her as the heat of his body seeped through her bare skin, igniting the fire that had smoldered since she’d arrived at the Hunting Grounds and caught his scent.

Savage impatience replaced her desire to savor the moment, and with zero guilt, she grabbed his expensive slacks and ripped them off his body. He could send her the bill to have them replaced. She relished the sensation that she was unwrapping him like a long-desired gift.

She grinned at the sound of his soul-deep groan. Her wolf liked it rough.

She froze. No. Not her wolf.

Just a temporary boy toy to sate her hunger. She’d forget all about him the second she found a new diversion.

Refusing to consider that this was anything more than sex, Satin leaned down to press her lips against his chest, using her lips and fangs to stir his desire to a fever pitch.

She liked him hot and bothered.

A lot.

“Satin,” he ground out, his fingers digging into her lower back as he spanned her waist.

In answer, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his rigid erection. The taste of him exploded through her. A spicy musk that was tastier than ambrosia.

“Now,” he abruptly barked, and Satin realized she’d pushed him to the edge of his control. Positioning herself over him, she slowly slid onto his massive length, feeling stretched to the limit as she at last had him fully inside her.

“Now,” she agreed, bracing herself as he lifted his hips off the ground and began to pound their bodies together with glorious abandon.

Satin tilted back her head, her gaze blindly locked on the star-splattered sky as ecstasy cascaded through her. It was stunningly perfect. As if Marco had been created just to sate her deepest needs. Releasing the tension and aggravations of the past week, Satin gave herself completely to the barbaric coupling.

But as her orgasm loomed, she lowered her head, locking her gaze with the golden fire in Marco’s eyes. In the midst of the chaotic hunger threatening to consume her, he was her touchstone. The only truth in a world that was spinning out of her control.

That’s when she felt the sharp press of his claws raking down her back, and a primal cry was wrenched from her throat as the pleasure-pain vaulted her over the edge into utter bliss.

* * * *

Three weeks later

The mansion on the outskirts of Chicago was an impressive sight. It was a massive, sweeping structure that consumed a vast amount of the manicured grounds. Inside, there was plenty of the mandatory marble and gilt with fluted columns that might have come straight from Greece. It was the sort of place that should have belonged to a hedge-fund manager who skimmed money from his clients and smuggled drugs with his yacht on the weekends.

Instead, it was home to a far more exotic power couple. The King of Vampires, Styx, and his vegetarian werewolf mate, Darcy.

Currently Styx was watching the tiny gargoyle pace across his office. Levet was barely three feet tall, with large fairy wings and an impressive ability to scrape his nerves raw. Styx, on the other hand, stood well over six foot with the chiseled beauty of his Aztec ancestors. His long black hair was held from his face with thin gold bands, and he was covered from neck to toe in leather. He wasn’t trying to look like a badass. He was a badass.

Settling on the corner of the massive desk, Styx folded his arms over the broad width of his chest, wishing he’d never gotten out of bed.

Being the Anasso—the official title of the leader of the vampires—meant that he spent the first few hours of each night dealing with the endless squabbles between various clans or complaints from demons about a vampire damaging their property or committing violence against them. It was an expected annoyance.

But after sending away the last petitioner and preparing to spend some quality time with his lovely mate, Styx had been cornered in his office by the tiny gargoyle. He’d tried to order the annoying creature to go away, but Levet had immediately started babbling about his aunt Bertha and Hong Kong and blah, blah, blah. Or at least that’s what it had sounded like to Styx.

“Stop,” he finally snapped, rubbing his temple. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Levet came to a halt, regarding him with a curious expression. “Do vampires get headaches?”

It shouldn’t be possible. Vampires were impervious to human sickness. But there was no denying the throb behind his right eye.

“Only when they’re being besieged by a chatterbox who keeps yammering about people I don’t know and have zero interest in hearing about.”

Levet blinked. “How can you not have interest in my aunt Bertha? She is tres fascinating.”

Styx scowled. He’d heard the gargoyle babbling about his aunt, but he’d assumed he was making up the wild stories.

“She’s real?”

“Of course she’s real.”

“And she’s in Hong Kong?”

“Non. She was in Hong Kong, but I caught sight of her last night near Navy Pier when I was test-driving Viper’s new Jag.”

Styx blinked. “Viper asked you to test-drive his new Jag?”

Levet’s tail twitched at the question. “Perhaps he did not specifically ask, but I assumed he would desire a friend to ensure it was in good working order. And he is lucky that I did. I discovered several scratches on the bumper when I eventually returned it to his garage. He should contact the dealer and complain.”

Styx rolled his eyes. “When Viper finds out you destroyed his car, he’s going to have your head chopped off and mounted as a hood ornament.”

“Destroyed is such an ugly word.” Levet clicked his tongue. “Besides, what Viper does not know does not hurt moi, right?”

With a shake of his head, Styx dismissed the hope that Viper might rid the world of the gargoyle once and for all. Levet always managed to survive. Like a cockroach. Only more irritating.

“And I should care about your aunt Bertha because…?” He turned the conversation back to the original reason Levet was in his office making him nuts.

“Because she wasn’t in her gargoyle form.”

“Is that unusual?”

“Would it be unusual if you woke up in the shape of a dew fairy?”

The overhead chandelier flickered as Styx released a small thread of power. He could destroy the entire electrical grid of Chicago if he wanted.

“Careful, gargoyle.”

Levet held up his hands, as if sensing he was treading on Styx’s last nerve. “I am worried about her.”

Styx swallowed a curse. The sooner he could get the stupid creature to spit out what he wanted, the sooner Styx could get rid of him.

“What shape was she in?”

“She looked like a human.”

“And you have no idea how it happened?”

“Non. When I first saw her in Hong Kong, she said she woke from one of her epic naps to discover she’d been transformed.”

“Is she in danger?”

Levet wrinkled his snout. “I am not sure.”

Styx stared down at the miniature demon. Levet aggravated the hell out of him, but he couldn’t deny a small amount of sympathy for being born different from other gargoyles. He wasn’t only a fraction of the normal size, but his large wings were as thin as gossamer instead of leather and his magic was sketchy as hell.

“Why do you care?” he demanded. “I thought your family banished you from the Gargoyle Guild?”

“They did.” Levet heaved a gusty sigh. “Which was much worse than my mother attempting to kill me.”

“So, why help any of them?”

Levet shrugged. “Aunt Bertha is the only one who ever showed me any kindness.” The gargoyle paused before clearing his throat. “Besides, she might have a teeny-tiny habit of causing disasters.”

Uh-oh. A bad feeling formed in the pit of Styx’s gut. Levet was notorious for creating chaos. If he was worried about his aunt, then things were bad. Really bad.

“Disasters?”

“You know…” Levet gave an airy wave of his hands. “The Ice Age. The Great Fire of London. The breakup of the Beatles.”

Styx shuddered. “Obviously she’s related to you. Which means she’ll be fine, even if she does destroy Chicago.”

“Not in her human form. She is too vulnerable to be wandering around alone.”

“If that’s true, you have the skills necessary to track her.” Styx pointed out the obvious. “Knock yourself out.”

Levet stomped his foot, his hands on his hips as he glared the long distance up at Styx. “You owe me.”

“I owe you?” Styx lifted a hand to touch the spot. . .