will go with you,” Marius offered.
“No, your wife needs you here.”
Marius nodded. “And father?” His brows were furrowed with concern.
Nicholas sighed. “I will be the one to tell him.” He sauntered back toward the hole in the skylight and peered up into it.
His eyes narrowed. The space was only large enough for a very slender form to pass through. He would’ve made mention of it, but a faint scent passed into his nostrils. He paused—it was barely present, a soft wisp of something pleasant.
Marius looked at him. “What is it?” he asked.
“There is a fragrance on the air.”
Marius inhaled softly. “I smell nothing.”
Nicholas realized that he was again tapping into the abilities he’d possessed as a gargoyle. He found it odd that Marius was unable to do the same.
“The air is laced with it,” he told him as he inhaled deeply.
Marius followed. “What does it smell like?”
Nicholas was silent for a moment then he turned to face his brother. “Like roses.”
Chapter 2
Drakon Castle, Romania
Nicholas flexed the thick and aching muscles of his neck. Obscured within the shadows of the large dining hall of his family’s estate, he waited. He’d been pacing the darkness as he’d contemplated all the possible motives for what had occurred, when a noise had alerted him. Silently, he’d made his way down the hall, slipping an eighteenth-century rapier from the wall in the process.
He’d arrived in Romania earlier that day and had relayed the incident of the stolen rune stone to his father. As expected, Lord Victor hadn’t taken the news well, and he’d summoned the elders of their clan to discuss the matter.
As Nicholas neared the main dining hall the scraping noise grew louder. He slipped within the shadows cast by the massive hearth whose jaws gaped with only slivers of a dying flame. From somewhere in the mansion a grandfather clock chorused the midnight hour. His eyes riveted to one of the tall rear windows and one thought invaded his mind—the Midnight Bandit had come to find the second rune.
A soft popping sound ensued and the window creaked open, the heavy drapes lifting as a gust of wind reached in to caress them. His muscles tensed. It had been a long time since he’d last had the privilege to engage in a worthwhile fight, and thus, he welcomed the inevitable confrontation with eagerness. He only hoped that his opponent was up to the challenge.
One black boot then another swung in through the opening. Nicholas would’ve advanced, but paused as two slender calves encased within skintight leather slipped in. Shapely thighs and hips followed. Dressed in a black, fitted shirt, leather pants and a mask, the figure landed in a silent crouch on the floor. His eyes narrowed on his new adversary. It seemed his assumption had been correct; the Midnight Bandit was female.
With feline grace, she crawled another few feet and she shot an assessing look about the room.
Nicholas remained as he was; still and without breath. He watched as she stood and began to saunter across the floor. She even took a moment to admire the room’s heavy oak table before advancing. Her figure was completely outlined as she moved past the dull glow of the hearth.
Nicholas’s gaze trailed the length of her as she drew nearer; lean and fit with full breasts and a slender waist. Her stride was bold and confident, that of one who had nothing to fear. It was obvious that she had no knowledge of the territory she’d chosen to invade.
He eased from the shadows then. “Five hundred years ago your crimes would have been punishable by death,” he said.
Her attention snapped to him and a look of surprise crossed her eyes but she quickly regained her composure.
“I guess that makes me fortunate to be living in the present, doesn’t it?”
One of Nicholas’s dark brows peaked slightly at her sharp retort. “You would be wise to return the Rune of Moloch to me and save yourself the unnecessary grief.”
Silence lapsed between them as she watched him. It was short-lived. “I have no intention of returning anything to you,” she said. “In fact, I intend to walk out of here with the second one.”
His eyes narrowed on her. A confrontation he’d anticipated, a fight he’d hoped for, but he hadn’t expected this: a recalcitrant hoyden whose tongue was sharper than the blade he held.
“And I intend to stop you.”
“It seems we have a conflict of interest.” She quickly slid one of the brass fire pokers from its rack and took a defensive martial arts stance.
“So it seems.” With fluid grace he raised his own weapon just in time to block her attack. Metal met metal in a deafening clash that initiated a fierce waltz. Her speed and agility both surprised and impressed him. She moved with the apparent effortlessness of one well schooled in the art. He found himself wondering who she was. The world had softened and its warriors had abandoned the ancient arts of physical combat. She was a rarity indeed.
She attacked again, slicing upward. Nicholas jumped backward, but not before the sharp point of the fire poker slipped up along the front of his billowed shirt. The material fell apart, gaping to reveal his midsection.
“If you intend to stop me you’d better try harder than that,” she said with a smirk in her voice.
Nicholas gripped his shirt and tore it from his body. If she wanted a fight she was going to get one. He charged forward, but she evaded his attack with a graceful backward flip. It seemed the bandit was also an accomplished gymnast.
She returned the favor with an attack of her own, swinging her weapon in a manner that would’ve disabled a man of lesser skill. But he was prepared for her this time. He evaded her assault and gripped the top of her ninja-style mask, stripping it from her head.
A wealth of inky tendrils fell about her face and shoulders like a cloud of hell-fire smoke. Eyes of the same haunting hue locked with his as she eased back a step.
Nicholas stared, his gaze unabashed and lustful, for the creature before him was more than beautiful. She was exotic and striking, an apparition of complete and utter perfection. Desire ignited within him. He’d never met a woman whose skill rivaled her beauty.
“Who are you?” he asked quietly.
For a moment he thought he would gain no response, and then she spoke. “Does it matter?”
He was given no time to respond for she came at him again, brandishing her weapon in a way that would’ve made her teacher proud. Nicholas matched her speed, but was careful to only block her attack. Although he relished the throes of battle, he didn’t believe in harming those weaker than himself. And this little delinquent, although well trained, was no match for his five centuries of ruthless grooming.
He ducked an attack then swept a foot beneath her. His sudden move was unexpected and she lost her
