Levet by Alexandra Ivy Page B

muttered.
    â€œ Oui , no need to be rude, Claudine,” Levet mocked.
    â€œIan, get him and cut out his tongue.”
    Ian took another grudging step forward only to halt again when a flaming arrow flew directly between his horns.
    â€œWhat was that?” the male gargoyle demanded, casting a swift glance down at his huge body as if he was afraid he’d been transformed into the mysterious newt.
    Levet didn’t have a clue, but he was never slow to take advantage of a situation. It was the only way for a three-foot demon to survive in a world where “only the good died young.”
    â€œYou didn’t think I would come to Paris alone?” he warned. “I have dozens of allies waiting to rush to my rescue.”
    â€œGrab him,” Claudine demanded, abruptly ducking as an arrow threatened to skewer her thick skull. “ Merde .”
    â€œYou capture him.” Ian launched himself into the air. “I am going home.”
    With a muttered curse, Claudine was swiftly following her cousin. Both were bullies, and like all bullies they had a large streak of cowardice.
    â€œYou won’t escape without punishment, Levet,” she shouted over her shoulder, her leathery wings barely visible against the night sky. “That much I swear.”
    Flipping her off, Levet turned to scan the nearby bushes.
    â€œWho is there?”
    There was a rustle of leaves before a slender, golden-haired female stepped into view.
    Levet gave a low whistle of appreciation.
    Sacrebleu . All nymphs were beautiful, but this one was drop-dead gorgeous.
    Blessed with a silken curtain of golden hair she had wide blue eyes that were framed by thick, black lashes and set in a perfect oval of a face. Her lush, mouthwatering curves were delectably revealed by her skinny jeans and the scooped top that gave more than a hint of her full breasts.
    â€œI’m Valla,” she said, holding the bow at her side, the remaining arrows strapped to her back.
    â€œAh.” Levet performed a deep bow. “I am deeply thankful for your timely diversion, ma belle .”
    Her lips twisted as she turned her head to reveal the side of her face that had been hidden by shadows. Levet gave a soft hiss at the sight of her skin that had been savagely marred by thick, disfiguring scars.
    The sort of scars that came from a deep burn. Or a magical spell.
    â€œNot belle ,” she corrected in flat tones. “As you can see I have become the beast, not the beauty.”
    â€œDo not say that,” he protested, his tender heart squeezing in pity.
    â€œWhy not? It’s true enough.” Glancing toward the sky, she began walking toward the Parc du Champ de Mars. “Let’s get out of here before your friends decide to return.”
    With a brisk waddle, Levet caught up with the retreating nymph.
    â€œI am of the opinion that beauty truly is skin-deep and that what is beneath the surface is what is important,” he informed her.
    She shot him a wry smile. “Yeah, and size doesn’t matter, right?”
    â€œTouché,” he conceded with a grimace. He, better than anyone, understood the heavy price of being “different.” “You sound American.”
    They moved into the surrounding neighborhoods, bypassing the various hotels and shops.
    â€œI lived there most of my live,” she said. “Until—”
    â€œUntil?”
    â€œI was captured by slavers.”
    â€œOh.” Levet shuddered. He had his own tragic past with the ruthless bastards. “I hate slavers.”
    â€œYeah.” The nymph turned onto a residential street, her profile outlined by the streetlamps. “I’m not so fond of them myself.”
    â€œThey damaged your face?” he asked.
    â€œI was determined to escape.” She gave a lift of her shoulder. “Even if it meant I was permanently damaged by forcing my way through the magical barriers.”
    Levet was struck by a niggling