Chapter 1
Levet tried to ignore the whispers of the fairies as he pushed his way through the thick underbrush. They were no doubt admiring his large, gossamer wings that sparkled in the moonlight, he told himself. Or perhaps the rigid bulges of his stout body. He might be small for a gargoyle—okay, maybe more than small. He was only three feet tall; still, he was hard in all the right places. Plus, his gray, lumpy features were sheer perfection.
No, wait. He snapped his fingers. They’d no doubt heard the rumors of his most recent battle against evil. As a knight in shining armor, he was often called upon to save the world. Being a hero meant he was constantly recognized by the lesser creatures.
Never slowing, Levet continued to ignore the whispers. At the moment, he didn’t have time for his flock of admirers. He’d spent the past week attempting to track down Troy, the Prince of Imps, who’d mysteriously disappeared. Thankfully, tonight he’d decided to check out the Hunting Grounds, the exclusive demon club outside of Chicago that belonged to Marco, a pureblooded Were. That’s where he’d finally caught the scent of the imp.
Reaching the front door of the cabin that was built on the outskirts of the private club, he banged his fist against the smooth wood.
“’Allo? Troy?”
Levet could hear muffled sound from inside. It sounded like curses. Then a voice called out.
“Troy isn’t here.”
Levet scowled, sniffing the night air. The rich scent of exotic fruit swirled through the breeze. “I can smell you.”
There was more cursing before the door was wrenched open to reveal Troy. The flamboyant imp was absurdly large with the sort of muscles only an orc should possess. He had long hair that shimmered like a river of fire as it tumbled down his back and brilliant green eyes. Currently he was attired in a black lace shirt that clung to his broad chest and white satin pants with fringes down the sides.
He was like a rare, glamorous flower who could lure others into his sensual snare.
Tonight, he didn’t appear to be in the mood to ensnare anyone or anything. There was a peevish expression on his pale face and a sharp-edged impatience in his voice.
“Go away,” he snapped.
Levet pursed his lips, valiantly pretending he didn’t notice the rude greeting. “I need a favor.”
The green eyes widened, as if the imp was shocked by his words. “A favor? Are you kidding me?”
“I do not think so.” Levet considered for a moment before giving a firm nod of his head. “Nope. I am quite certain I need a favor.”
“You trapped me in the netherworld, where I was forced to listen to your endless babbling for what felt like an eternity. And as if that’s not bad enough—and trust me, it was bad enough—you led me straight into the lair of an ifrit who tried to turn me into a crispy critter.” Troy turned to reveal the seat of his pants, which had been cut out to reveal the male’s derrière, red with several blisters. “My ass is still healing, and I had to have a new weave put in my hair.”
Levet clicked his tongue. It wasn’t his fault they’d nearly been fried by the demon from hell. Okay, maybe being sucked into the netherworld might have been a teensy tiny bit his fault, but in the end they’d saved the world, hadn’t they? The stupid creature should be proud to have been included in the daring adventure, not whining like a dew fairy.
“You are such a drama drag,” Levet muttered.
“Queen. I’m a drama queen, you…” Troy shook his head, struggling for the proper word. “Pest.”
“Pest?” Levet blinked. “That is the best you can do?”
The sour scent of citrus blasted through the air. “I’m tired, charred, and in dire need of a vacation that is gargoyle-free. Go away.”
“You have not performed my favor.”
“You want a favor? I’m not going to stab you in the heart with a cursed dagger. That’s your favor. Now go away.”
Levet’s wings fluttered. The male was in a mood. It was inexcusable.
“Party pisser.”
“Pooper. Party pooper. Argh.” Troy grabbed the edge of the door, as if he intended to slam it closed.
“Wait.” Levet took a hasty step forward. “I need you to open a portal.”
“Tough.”
“This is important.”
Troy rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You have to save the world from some new disaster?”
Levet sent the male a confused glance. “I just saved the world, remember? I am on vacation. I wish to return to the merfolk castle.”
“Then have Inga open a portal.”
Levet cleared his throat at the mention of the Queen of the Merfolk. It’d been far too long since he’d been with Inga, and the desire to be reunited had become a ruthless ache in the center of his being.
Others might see a towering ogress with patches of red hair and pointed teeth who had the temper of a rabid hellhound and run screaming in terror, but to Levet she was sheer perfection.
“Non. I desire my return to be a surprise,” he insisted.
Troy stilled, studying Levet as if he’d been struck by a sudden thought. “She won’t open a portal,” he said abruptly.
Levet’s brows snapped together. “Do not be ridiculous. Inga adores moi.”
“Are you sure?” Troy pressed. “You keep running off when she needs you the most. It’s possible she’s done waiting for you.”
The words drilled into Levet with painful force, each one finding a vulnerable spot. It was true he was worried that Inga had become weary of his constant absences. And that perhaps she had decided he was not worth the effort. And Troy was right. When he’d attempted to contact her telepathically, she’d refused to answer.
He wagged a claw in Troy’s direction. “You are a very mean creature.”
Troy shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one who abandoned the female I supposedly care about. That’s on you.”
“I did not abandon—”
Bam. The door slammed in his face. Levet stomped his foot before he turned and marched away. Obviously, the selfish imp wasn’t going to help. He would have to find assistance somewhere else.
“I did not abandon Inga. I was busy saving the world. Again,” he muttered as he left the Hunting Grounds and headed back toward Chicago. He was not technically supposed to be at the demon club after a certain incident that included his fireballs landing in the middle of a werewolf wedding and setting the groom on fire. “And once I can explain why I have been absent from the castle I am certain she will understand,” he continued to try to reassure himself. “Oui. Of course she will.” He heaved a sigh. “But only if she will speak to me.”