by Nina Croft
His eyes narrowed on her. “When we part?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“Regan is coming for me.”
Gina didn’t mention the hellhounds, though she didn’t know why; maybe she didn’t want to scare him off completely.
“When will she be here?”
Gina shrugged. “Tomorrow, maybe tonight, I don’t know, but she’s searching for me, and she will find me. Besides, I was always going back. I just wanted to see something of life before—” She broke off and swallowed. “I have to go back. This was only ever a break from reality for me.”
“Reality? Well, change reality. You don’t have to go back. I can keep you safe from your sister. She can manage without you.”
Anger rose in Gina then. “You understand nothing of what we do. Do you think we were brought into existence merely to perform party tricks at your command, to give you pretty visions of the future? That is nothing. We have duties to perform, without which the world would descend into chaos.”
“What duties?”
“We lead the souls of the dead away from the land of the living. Without us the world would sink under their weight. Besides…”
“Besides?”
She got to her feet, crossed the floor and drew back the curtain. The room was instantly lit with the crimson flashes. “This is because of me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Magic has to be paid for,” she said. “Oh, not the glamours and tricks…” She gestured to her long hair, and it vanished. “They cost nothing. But proper earth magic has a price. I had to use it to black out the sun—that was the only way I could save Raven. But now the world is out of balance. This—” she gestured at the night sky “—will get worse, until I have paid.”
“Paid how?”
“I don’t know the details,” she lied. “Perhaps I will have to return to the Shadowlands.” Well, at least that was the truth; she had no doubts she would be visiting the Shadowlands very soon.
“Do you want some company?”
Panic flared inside her. “You cannot follow. It is forbidden”
His eyes narrowed. “One day you will come back?”
“Perhaps.” She forced a smile.
He was regarding her curiously. “Have you seen our future?”
Gina frowned at the question, then shook her head. “No, I haven’t had a vision of the future since before Raven was born. I think my gift may have passed to her.”
“Yes, Kael mentioned she has the sight.”
“Then I pity her.”
“There’s no need. She’s happy now with Kael, and besides, she’s strong.”
“I hope so. She’ll have to be.”
“So,” Darius said. “Where does this leave us?”
She turned away from him, schooled her expression to grimness. He needed to understand this. “There is no us,” she said, turning back. “There can never be any us. Tonight is all we have.”
He stared at her for a minute longer, his expression blank. “Then I think I’ll forgo the evening’s entertainment. If I just wanted sex, there are plenty of willing partners without the problems. Maybe they’re still up next door.”
He turned from her and walked out. The door slammed shut behind him. Gina stared at it without seeing, a desperate urge to call him back rising within her. She bit her lip to stop the words from tumbling out.
Running to the door, she opened it and caught sight of his figure disappearing down the stairs. Something relaxed inside her. She didn’t know what she would have done if he’d gone next door.
She started shaking then. Sinking to the floor, she curled into a ball and wept.
Chapter Five
It took Darius all of about one second to realize he’d behaved like a complete shit.
He hadn’t meant it. He could no more go to another’s bed than he could physically hurt Gina. No, he’d said it to cause her pain, and he’d succeeded. The shock had been clear in her face, and he’d wished immediately that he could take back his words. Instead, he’d walked away.
If he’d believed causing her pain would lessen the anguish that ripped through him, he’d been way off course.
The truth was, he’d seen the love in her face, knew she wanted him, and he could still feel her, soft and willing beneath him. For a brief moment, he’d allowed himself to believe there could be a happy ending, and because of that, her rejection had been the bitterest of blows.
Still, the knowledge that she hadn’t betrayed him, hadn’t betrayed their daughter, was like a huge pressure lifting from his mind. He realized the Darkness had retreated; he no longer felt as though he was balancing on the edge of a precipice. The hatred had drained from him, leaving him empty.
He wanted to go back, say he was sorry for hurting her, but the hunger still clawed at his stomach. He couldn’t confront her again until he had himself under control, but time was running out. How long had she said she had? A day? A few hours?
He walked through the city streets, the crimson lightning flashing overhead, mocking him, reminding him at every step of all he had lost.
Finally, he entered an all-night bar and sat down, oblivious to the stares of the humans. The bartender placed a whiskey in front of him and Darius sipped the drink, wondering where to go next. What to do. He wanted Gina with every part of him, and he knew she wanted him. But if she could be strong enough to do her duty, then perhaps he should learn from her.
For a long time he sat drinking, staring into space, working out how to pick up the pieces of his life and move on.
Maybe it was time to stop wallowing in self-pity, as Kael had told him, and get back to work. There were always fire-demons to kill, if the Council would take him back. Darius would fill his time waiting for her return.
First, he had to see her one more time.
When the knock came, Gina almost didn’t open the door. She didn’t believe for one minute that Darius would be back. He’d made his feelings clear. Only after the third round of knocking, when it turned into hammering, did she rise to her feet.
She opened the door slowly, her eyes widening as she took in the tall figure on the other side. He’d changed his clothes, and her eyes widened further at the sight of him. She’d never seen him in anything other than casual dress. Now he was wearing a dark gray suit that fit his tall frame to perfection, and a white silk shirt open at the neck, contrasting with his golden skin. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, emphasizing the high cheekbones. His sensual lips curled into a slight smile.
He looked alert and shifty, as though he was hiding something, and he kept his hands behind his back. As she stared at him, openmouthed, he brought them forward and offered her a single red rose.
She blinked in bewilderment, then shifted her gaze from the flower to the man holding it, unable to look away.
“May I come in?” he asked when she continued to stare.
“Can I stop you?”
“All you have to do is say no.”
She considered it for a millisecond. She glanced again at the flower. No one had ever brought her flowers before. She opened her mouth again, but couldn’t think of a thing to say, so stepped to the side and gestured for him to enter.
He nodded once, then stepped past her. She shut the door behind them and turned to face him. He held out the rose. “This is to say I’m sorry.”
“You are?” She blinked again, in confusion. “For what?”
He shrugged. “Take your pick, but mostly for the way I left earlier. I was…” he paused as if searching for the right word “…disappointed. You can blame my oafish behavior on that.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “I won’t change my mind.”
“I don’t expect you to. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, for however long you’re willing to give it.”
A thrill of excitement ran through her at his words. She’d believed it was over. That she would never see him ag
ain, and the thought had very nearly torn her apart. Now she had a chance to be with him one last time.
She reached out and took the rose, raised it and breathed in the rich perfume. When she looked back up, Darius was watching her.
“I want to make love to you,” he said. “You know that?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now put the flower down. I need to hold you.”
She laid it on the coffee table and moved into his arms. She buried her head in his chest, pressing her face against the silk of his shirt, wrapping her arms around his waist as though she would hold him forever and never let him go. His arms went around her, pulled her closer, and for long minutes they stood entwined. After nowhere near long enough, he kissed the top of her head, and she released him and stepped back.
She glanced down at her jeans and T-shirt; which didn’t seem right when he looked so stunning and sophisticated. But she was a witch, wasn’t she? She whispered a spell, and a moment later stood before him in a slinky crimson dress the color of fresh blood. It skimmed her slender body, clinging to her small breasts and reaching midway down her thighs. Her feet were in crimson stilettos with straps that wrapped around her ankles. She imagined her hair down to her waist, and instantly the heavy weight tipped her head back. Darius was staring at her, and she could see the hunger in his eyes. Her own hunger rose, tightening the muscles in her belly, turning her nipples to hard little peaks pressing against the thin silk of her dress.
She looked up to find him gazing at her breasts. He cleared his throat. “Do you have anything on under that?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“Wait and see,” she teased.
His eyes glittered, dark and hot, and his hands clenched at his sides as he obviously fought for control. After a minute, the tension drained from him. He smiled. “I’ll wait, little witch, but not for long.”
He took off his jacket and laid it on the back of the black leather sofa, then released the band holding his hair. He ran his hands through it, so it fell to his shoulders, dark as night. She watched the play of muscles under the thin white shirt. She could see the dark body hair on his chest, and her fingers itched to feel it.
He sank down onto the sofa and once again patted the seat next to him. This time she came and sat in the crook of his arm, and he pulled her tight against him.
She felt no hurry now. Held safe in his arms as she was, it seemed inevitable they would be together. She snuggled closer, and his fingers stroked the skin of her shoulder.
Tomorrow she would have to face her fate, but for tonight, Darius was hers.
Chapter Six
How did you make love to someone when it might be the last time, and you wanted to show her what she meant to you?
Darius stared down at the woman in his arms.
She had been an innocent the first time. He remembered his shock. A two-hundred-year-old virgin—who would have believed it? He’d known she’d led an isolated existence; witches tended to keep to themselves. But it had been a surprise. She’d learned quickly, but still, he’d been careful of scaring her. He’d always held something of himself back. Tonight he wasn’t going to hold back anything.
Except no feeding.
He could do it. However much he wanted to taste the sweetness of her blood, he would not. He suspected she didn’t trust him, and why should she? Perhaps she believed if the link was strengthened, he would come looking for her. She was right.
They were wasting time. “Let’s go to bed,” he said.
She looked into his face and nodded. Rising to her feet, she held out her hand to him as though she was the one leading the way. He took it and stood up. Then lifted her effortlessly in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. He put her on her feet and tugged at the thin straps holding up her dress. “I love this gown,” he said, “but it’s coming off.”
“It is?”
He nodded. He was about to remove it when a moment later the dress vanished, leaving her naked but for a crimson thong. She was perfection. Long and slender, but her body honed, with graceful lines of muscle showing beneath the pale skin. He reached out a hand, stroked her shoulder, cupped one small, sweet breast in his palm and ran his thumb over her nipple, watching as it darkened under his touch. She swayed, and he moved his hand lower, tracing a finger along the mark above her left hip bone. It was black, stark against the paleness of her skin, and shaped like a bird, wings outstretched. He remembered the first time he had seen it. He’d known immediately what it was, what it signified. It was the mark of the Morrigan. Still, he’d had to ask.
“Your mother is the Morrigan?”
Gina had nodded, and shock had ripped through him—her mother was a goddess. And not just any goddess, but the goddess of war and pestilence.
Now he rubbed his thumb over the mark and wondered what other blood ran in her veins. “You never told me,” he said. “Who’s your father?”
“I don’t know, but according to Regan our mother has terrible taste in men.” Gina smiled. “Regan reckons that’s where I get it from.”
Darius snorted. “Yeah, and I love your sister, too.” He looked at her. “What’s she like? The Morrigan, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never met her. I told you, she left me with my sisters when I was a baby. I used to wonder what she was like, and I used to pray to her. She never answered, and I gave up praying years ago.”
Her words were a lie, but Gina had no wish to tell Darius that she had spent much of the last week praying. What was the point? There had been no answers; her mother had remained silent, as always. Gina reached down and took his hand in hers, pressed his open palm against the mark. “This is all I have from my mother.”
She was sure he meant to pull away, and panic flared inside her. She wanted this so much it was like a live thing clawing at her insides, ravenous, demanding to be fed. Her hips pushed against him, and his hand relaxed beneath hers. His fingers flexed, then pressed into the flesh of her stomach, sliding over her skin to slip beneath the tiny scrap of satin that was all that covered her. They ruffled through the soft hair, then moved lower, curling upward, probing, searching.
She knew the moment he realized how much she wanted him. His breath caught as his long fingers slipped between the folds of her sex and sank into the hot, slick heat. He went still for a moment, and then leaned forward and kissed her. A slow drugging kiss, his tongue filling her mouth, while his fingers stroked the swollen, sensitized flesh, massaging the hard little nub until her legs gave way, and she clung to him for support. She closed her eyes tight, concentrated on the feel of his fingers moving against her. The pleasure intensified, radiated outward and then exploded in a shower of lights that flashed behind her closed lids.
“Oh!”
He laughed softly against her mouth, then drew back, picked her up and dropped her onto the huge bed behind her.
She opened her eyes. He was standing over her, staring at her nearly naked body while he stripped off his own clothes. He didn’t bother unbuttoning the shirt, just ripped it open, tore it off and dropped it on the floor. He was beautiful, his chest broad, with a covering of dark silky hair that ran over the muscular ridges of his lean belly and disappeared into the waistband of his pants. He was already hard; she could see the outline of his erection beneath the material. Her mouth went dry, and she held her breath as his hand moved to the fastener. He flicked it open and slowly drew the zipper down. She started to breathe again as he slid his pants down over his thighs and stood before her naked.
His skin was golden, his legs strong columns, his cock long and heavy, springing up from a nest of midnight curls. It twitched and pulsated with life under her hot gaze, and she came up on one elbow, reached out and curled her fingers around it. He gasped, and she tightened her hand, loving the feel of his burning-hot, silky soft skin over the rock-hard shaft.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured, and she loosened her grip, her fingers fluttering up over the long length of him, then down to cup the heavy we
ight of his balls.
He groaned again, and then dropped down onto the bed beside her. She released her hold, her hands moving to his shoulders to drag him closer. Darius pulled her against him, cupping her buttocks in his palms, then rolling her so she lay beneath him. He bent down, his lips taking hers in a savage kiss of possession, and she opened her mouth, welcomed the scalding thrust of his tongue.
He ripped the thong from her body, and for a moment stayed poised above her. He inhaled, his nostrils flaring as they drew in air heavy with the musky scent of sex. His hands tangled in her hair, and he held her still beneath him.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said. “In my dreams, in my waking moments.”
She stared up into his face. He was fierce, predatory, his lips drawn back, exposing the sharp whiteness of his fangs, but she knew no fear.
One of his hands moved between them. He parted the folds of her sex with sure, skillful fingers, and her body tightened in anticipation. Then the head of his cock was nudging, seeking entrance to her body, finding it. She could feel herself softening, opening for him. Even so, when he plunged inside her, sheathing himself in one hard lunge, she gasped in shock. He went still above her.
“Okay?”
She nodded. He filled her completely, but after a moment, her body adjusted to him. She twitched her hips, and he pulsated inside her, growing even larger, and she moved again. He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they glittered, filled with a hunger he made no effort to hide.
He moved then. The first thrust was a long slow curl of his hips, and she lifted up to meet him. She knew the exact moment when he released the hold he had on his control. Felt it snap. He plunged into her hard and fast, so all she could do was hold on. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
He rode her hard, driving them both toward their climax, ruthlessly taking everything she had to give. With each lunge, the exquisite pleasure rose, until the whole world was reduced to nothing more than the feel of him moving on her, in her.
