"You fool. We can't sit around simply hoping she might decide to contact you."

"What do you intend to do?"

"I intend to bring my daughter home."

His eyes narrowed. "Or more likely send her fleeing in terror."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Darcy was raised by humans," he reminded her in a mocking tone. "Do you truly think that you can play the role of June Cleaver?"

Her lip curled. "I can for long enough to lure her from the arms of her vampire. After that, any doting will have to be done by you."

Doting?

Salvatore gave a mental shrug. He had never tried doting, but if that's what it took to get Darcy in his bed, then so be it.

He needed heirs. Strong heirs who could replenish the fading Weres.

He would do whatever was necessary to achieve that.

Styx realized that he had completely lost his wits.

There was no other explanation for why he was anxiously pacing the floor while Darcy dressed in the adjoining bathroom.

By the gods, the woman was twenty-five feet away. Close enough he could hear her every movement and smell the warm scent of her skin. He could be at her side within less than a blink of an eye.

But the mere fact that there was a slender door between the two of them was enough to make him long to snarl and snap with aggravation.

It went beyond ridiculous.

Tugging on his clothes with a sharp impatience, Styx was still chiding himself on his strange unease when a faint, muffled cry echoed through the room.

With a flare of fear he was across the room and smashing the door open. His gaze swept the bathroom, searching for whatever had made Darcy cry out.

What he discovered was Darcy seated on the edge of the vast tub wearing only her jeans and a lacy bra as she regarded her arm with horror.

Presuming she must have somehow hurt herself, he flowed to her side and knelt before her.

"Darcy," he said softly, waiting until her gaze at last lifted to meet his concerned regard. "Angel, what is it?"

"My arm." Looking oddly dazed, she held out her arm. "There's something wrong with it."

He carefully cradled her arm in his hands, his lingers instinctively tightening as he caught sight of the crimson scrolling that crawled beneath the skin of her forearm.

Just for a moment he stilled, attempting to accept what he was seeing. It wasn't that he didn't know what it was. Every vampire could recognize such an ancient symbol.

And it wasn't even that some part of him hadn't expected the appearance of the mark. He had known from the beginning that his reaction to this woman was for more powerful than it should be. And when she had taken his blood into her, it had all but settled the issue.

Still, it took a long minute before realization truly settled into his mind.

A realization that was swiftly followed by a flash of overwhelming satisfaction.

A fierce male joy in possession.

It was his reaction that shocked him more than anything.

"Bloody hell," he at last breathed.

"What?" Her fingers curled into a fist as she struggled to contain her panic. "Am I sick? Do I have some disease?"

Styx sternly shook off his shock and forced himself to concentrate on the woman seated before him.

She had no idea what was happening to her. The question was whether not knowing or knowing would terrify her more.

"No." He forced his fingers to loosen although he was wise enough to keep his grip on her. "You are perfectly fine, Darcy, that I promise you."

"You know what this is?"

He hesitated before giving a slow nod. "Yes."

"Tell me," she demanded.

"Do you swear that you won't run from me if I tell you the truth?"

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Dammit, Styx, you're scaring me."

He leaned close, his gaze boring into her own. "There is nothing to be frightened of, angel, but I want your promise that you will hear me out before you do something reckless."

A portion of her fear oddly seemed to fade as her wariness deepened. No doubt she was beginning to suspect that the crimson that shimmered beneath her skin had nothing to do with any fatal disease.

"Did you do this to me?" she demanded.

"I do not yet have your promise, Darcy."

"For God's sake, just tell me," she rasped with impatience.

Accepting that he wasn't about to receive any promise, Styx tightened his grip. Obviously he would have to take direct measures to make sure that she didn't manage to slip away.

"This is the mark of mating," he said softly.

Her wide gaze lowered to her arm. "I have a tattoo because we slept together? Jeez. That's something you might have mentioned. I mean . . . crap, what does it say? I had sex with Styx?"

He hid his flare of amusement at her outrage. Ah, if it were only that simple.

"It is a symbol, Darcy, not words, and you do not have it because we had sex. It is the physical representation of an ancient bonding."

"Could you say that again in English?" she demanded.

He swallowed a sigh. She was not a vampire and had no knowledge of the demon world, he reminded himself sternly. She was bound to be confused.

"It is the mark of a true mating."

"True mating?" Her face visibly paled. "As in ... happily ever after and after and after?"

"In part."

"What do you mean, in part?"

"This mark reveals that you are my true mate, but for a complete melding, you would have to open yourself to me utterly and without hesitation."

He felt her stiffen before she pulled free of his grasp and rose to her feet. Grudgingly he allowed her the small amount of space. He could easily halt her if she bolted for the door.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she regarded him with troubled green eyes.

"Okay, let me get this straight I have this... thing on my arm and now we're mates?"

"I am bonded to you as your mate," he explained cautiously.

"And that means what?"

"It means that I belong to you and you alone for all eternity. There will never be another for me."

She blinked, as if stunned by his frank confession. "Yow."

His lips twisted. "That is one way of putting it."

"And what about me? Do I belong to you?"

A dark emotion flared to life within Styx.

Of course she belonged to him. He would kill anyone who tried to take her away.

With an effort he struggled to control the savage desire to yank her into his arms and warn her that he would never let her go.

He had made enough mistakes with Darcy. He wouldn't force or manipulate her into becoming his mate, no matter how desperately he wanted her.

"You must willingly offer yourself, as I took your blood to become mated."

"But... I have offered myself willingly on more than one occasion."

"Not your body, Darcy." He sought for words to explain the mystical union. "You must offer your heart and your soul. Your very essence."

She considered for a long moment. "What happens if I don't?"

His teeth ground together. "You remain unbound."

"I could just walk away and you would still be mated to me?"

"Yes," he growled, his brows snapping together as she covered her face with her hands and he heard the unmistakable sound of laughter. "You find that amusing?"

Her hands slowly lowered, and Styx discovered his anger melting as he realized her cheeks were damp with tears. Damn.

"Well, even you have to admit that there's a certain irony in the situation," she said as she shakily reached for a tissue to dry her tears. "You were the one to take me captive and hold me against my will. Now it seems you are the captive."

"It does seem so indeed," he murmured, moving forward to stand directly before her. With deliberately slow motions, he reached up to cup her face in his hands, his thumbs gently tracing the lingering dampness on her cheeks. "What are you thinking"

She made no move to pull from his touch as she regarded him with an aching vulnerability.

"Did you know this was a possibility?"

Impulsively he leaned his forehead against her own, uncertain how to offer the comfort she needed.

"That you might be my true mate?"

"Yes."

His lips touched her brow. "I think I've known that it was a possibility from the moment I captured you. I have never been so... aware of a woman in my very long life."

She pulled back to regard him with a wry expression. "You mean you wanted me in your bed?"

"In my bed, on the floor, on the kitchen table, in the solarium ..."

She smacked his chest. "Styx."

His hands tightened on her face. How could she not feel the emotions that burned within him? How could she doubt for even a moment that his entire existence was now dedicated to her happiness?

"You have no need to ask such a ridiculous question, angel," he said with a fierce urgency. "You know quite well that you have plagued me far beyond the bedroom. There does not seem to be a moment when you are not in my thoughts, even when I wished it otherwise. You have become a necessary part of me."