The Darkest Day

by Britt Bury

Ryo nodded. “Think of Izel not as a powerless mortal, but as dormant. She has to figure out a way to spark the Aztec in her—the catalyst to charge all that sleeping power she harbors.”

  “When will this happen? How?”

  Ryo shrugged. “That part is unclear. I only know that the Dryads predict her to come into this power, but the specifics?” She sighed. “They never dish the details.”

  Ian pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Shite.”

  “Aye,” she mocked. “Shite indeed.”

  He glared at Ryo. “You’re calm about this? We’re talking about the enemy, my clan’s enemy, having enough power to wipe us out!”

  “Good thing she’s not evil then, huh? I would even venture to say it’s lucky she has a unique heart.”

  Ryo beamed with satisfaction.

  Ian glowered.

  He shot from his chair and stood. He had to get word to Kelvin.

  “Kelvin will call in a few days,” Ryo said, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring herself another glass. “Besides, I wouldn’t worry about that right now.”

  “Why the hell no’?”

  She took a sip of her drink. “Because your cousin is coming, and he has a demon with him.”

  “Alistair?” Ian had dispatched two of his cousins the same time as Kelvin in attempts to locate the McCall. While he was happy that after twenty-five years of searching, Kelvin had finally found the girl, Ian hadn’t heard from either of his cousins.

  Ryo shook her head. “No. Keith. Alistair is locked up in a Fionn dungeon at the moment. Silly little Wolverine got caught playing with a Poet and accidentally got himself captured.”

  Ian’s mouth hung open, readying to bellow orders to—

  A loud boom, a foreign female scream, and the sound of glass breaking echoed through the halls.

  Ryo looked at the entry of the dining hall at the same moment that a young Pookah soldier ran through. “Sir! Keith has returned, and he’s in possession of a demon!”

  Ian looked between the frantic lad and Ryo.

  She smiled and took another swallow of whiskey.

  “Told ya.”

  Ian sprinted from the room.

  Chapter 9

  “I was no’ aware that those were hiking clothes,” Kelvin sputtered, reminding himself that he was not enjoying the sight of this human in such garments.

  She smoothed her palms down her skirt. “Well, I didn’t pack for a hostile kidnapping and endless scouring of the Scottish countryside.”

  Kelvin crossed his arms over his chest. “Hostile kidnapping?” he mocked. “Would such a terrible creature bring you food and accompany you through unfamiliar territory in order to locate your kin?”

  She shook her head and sighed as she ran fingers through her hair. “Ah, Pookah, how you distort the truth.”

  His gaze went to the floor. Shite. He was distorting the truth, but she had no idea just how much. The reality of his predicament slapped him in the face for the hundredth time today. He was luring Izel to an uncertain and, quite possibly, painful fate. And he was doing it by dangling the promise of “locating” the Campbell clan and gaining her answers. Aye, he’d locate them, all right. He looked at the brand on his wrist. Unimaginable pain would have pumped through his veins by now if he had acted outside the bargain he made with her. But unfortunately for this naive mortal, she’d only bound him not to physically harm her, which had nothing to do with finding the Campbell clan.

  Izel gingerly walked toward him on the couch. She eyed the pizza box on the coffee table. Kelvin clenched his fist and threw his wrist out of sight and out of mind. He was doing what he needed to do, what he was ordered to do. He would not think about things he couldn’t control, like Ian’s plans for Izel upon arriving at the Kerr castle.

  Kelvin stood, offering Izel space on the small sofa. She sat, never taking her eyes off the sealed pizza box. She was obviously hungry but trying to maintain manners. He decided to throw her a bone. “What are you waiting for? Dig in, lass.”

  Izel smiled at him and Kelvin checked the urge to clamp his hand over his heart. That was the second time she had directly smiled at him. She lifted the top of the box. Kelvin watched her eyes go wide. She let out a giddy squeal of delight. “I loooovvve veggie pizza!” She tore into the cheesy pie and took a hearty bite. “Oh holy God,” she said around a mouthful. Kelvin wondered if she was going to jump up and start dancing a jig of glee. Christ, if mere sauce and bread made her this happy, he’d never walk through the door again without it.

  He stood, watching her devour a thick slice. A feeling of pride and triumph overtook him, as if providing for and pleasing her was his sole purpose in life.

  “I’m ta shower, then we rest. I donna know why you’re dressed in”—he waved his hand, gesturing at her outfit—“that.”

  Still chewing, she rolled her eyes, “I’m going out.”

  “You are doing no such thing,” Kelvin barked. Seemingly disinterested, she shrugged and took another bite of pizza.

  “All right.”

  Kelvin opened his mouth, ready to fight with her on the issue. “You will no’ ”—he paused, finger pointed at her, two seconds away from wagging. “You’re nay ta fight me on this?” he asked with disbelief.

  “Eh.” She shrugged again, too enamored with her food to look at him. Kelvin almost scratched his head. What was going on? At every turn this female fought him, tried his patience, but now she was amicable? No, this must be a trick.

  “You’re ta run off once I leave for the shower,” he stated. She glanced up at him, her mouth so full her cheeks subtly puffed.

  “I am?” she mumbled. Kelvin stared at her. She seemed genuinely content to stay here and most likely polish off an entire large pizza by herself. Could she have finally heeded his will? Maybe the Alp attack had scared her straight. She’d be crazy to leave Kelvin’s side after that debacle, masked scent or not. He glared at her and took one step backward. She frowned and shifted her jaw, swallowing. “Really?” she mocked. “You’re that worried I’m going to ditch you?” She looked him over once before snagging another slice of pizza. “Calm down there, Pookah.”

  Bloody women and their sodding moods. A moment ago she was griping about how he’d “kidnapped” her. And now she was insinuating that the idea of her “ditching him” was far-fetched. Kelvin wasn’t convinced and felt the need to remind her of his previous threats. “You’d be wise to no’ try my patience by leaving.” Her lovely eyes looked up at him. “I may no’ scent your humanness, but I am still a hunter, and I promise you”—he held her stare—“you will no’ get far.”

  He saw goose bumps break over Izel’s olive skin, but she acted as if his words didn’t affect her. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, waving him away.

  Izel, with a gob of food in her mouth, leaned forward from her position on the couch and peeked through the bathroom door, which had been left slightly ajar. She caught a glimpse of Kelvin undressing and she sucked in a breath, causing her to choke for a brief moment. Coughing and still chewing, she instinctively looked around the room in embarrassment and thanked God she was alone. She gnashed through another swallow of pizza and leaned farther off the couch.

  She’d never seen this much of Kelvin before. His tan skin covered large, chiseled muscles. She squeezed her thighs together. She wanted to lick and bite every inch of him. Instead, she snapped her teeth at the crust she held. Seriously, she’d never been so hungry in her life.

  Transfixed by the exquisite body of the warrior, she watched his thick chest rise and fall with his subtle breaths. Her gaze dipped lower to the ridges of muscle on his torso. That’s when she saw the tattoo. She hissed and crossed her legs more tightly. She hadn’t expected Kelvin to be inked. A large dark triangle wrapped around his hip bone—strategically outlining the perfection of his lower stomach. There was a small star at each point of the shape. Good money said the stars symbolized the three breeds of Pookah. In the middle of the hollow triangle was a Celtic renderi
ng of a Razorback. The fierce creature, drawn in black ink against the flank of Kelvin’s torso, made her hands itch to touch it.

  Izel bit her lip and leaned farther. She watched Kelvin unclasp the button on his jeans and leaned toward him. Suddenly she felt his eyes on her.

  “Ta think, I was worried ta take my eyes off you.”

  Izel gasped. Just before she could fling herself back, she instead caught her foot under the coffee table and fell off the couch, landing flat on her ass.

  Kelvin chuckled.

  Great. Frickin’ great! She sat like an idiot, wedged between the sofa and the table. She had been caught ogling a man she supposedly despised, unintentionally feeding his already massive ego. Her cheeks burned and she grumbled getting up, wondering if any of her dignity was salvageable. She heard Kelvin’s heavy footsteps and the swish of the shower curtain sliding across the rod. “Seems I had no reason ta fear ya leaving when you can hardly tear your eyes off o’ me long enough ta find the door.”

  Izel pinched the bridge of her nose. Kelvin was not the kind of male who would let her live this down. Great!

  Standing up, she ran her palms down her skirt. A rush of insecurity crashed through her. The sight of Kelvin shirtless had Izel drooling like a basset hound. She smoothed her hair, then gently tugged at the bottom of her shirt. With so many feelings continuously presenting themselves, she had begun to mentally label them as they came. So far, humiliation was her least favorite.

  Although the Pookah’s words, actions, and overall demeanor changed constantly, Izel couldn’t dislodge the seed of doubt he had planted. “You’re no’ of my interest,” he’d said. She looked at the bathroom doorway once more, but this time it was to see if Kelvin was truly preoccupied enough for her to slip out of there unnoticed. “Ye will no’ get far—murff, murff, mrrr,” she muttered to herself. Whatever. She may not get far, but she’d get somewhere.

  Izel didn’t know how this whole “I can scent you” thing worked, but she quietly hung her dirty shirt from the day before on the bathroom doorknob, hoping it would mess with Kelvin’s nose and make him think she was still near. She tiptoed to the front door, gently unlatched the lock, and silently stepped out into the darkness.

  The cool evening breeze licked her bare legs and sent a slight chill through her body. The chilly night instantly perked up her drowsy mind and tired body. She should be resting right now, but she was desperate to drown this weighty fervor of internal chaos. So much had happened in only two short days. She’d heard the term “mentally check out” before but had never thought she understood it until now.

  A few more strides and Izel saw a small pub. She damn near ran. She knew Kelvin would be hot on her heels at any minute, but at least if she was inside the bar, she could make a scene before he was able to take her out. She gave a tentative shove at the wooden door. The creaking hinges whined as the heavy frame opened. She stepped into the dimly lit tavern and scanned her surroundings.

  The pub was rustic in its décor, a perfect setting for the typical weary traveler. She was grateful to find a woman tending the bar and only a handful of men scattered throughout the establishment. All eyes shifted to Izel. She mustered up whatever confidence she had and walked to the bar. She lifted herself onto a black leather stool and folded her hands on top of the glossy counter.

  The barmaid approached. “What’ll it be, girlie?” The maid was slim, with stringy black hair pulled tightly into a ponytail. Although her features were sharp, she had a kindness in her eyes that eased Izel’s tension. The woman looked at Izel and raised her brows, awaiting a drink request.

  “I… I, ah,” Izel stuttered, realizing she’d never ordered a drink before. She’d gone out to dinner with Lorna and Ava several times but never drank. She pursed her lips, looking from left to right, desperately trying to recall what Lorna always ordered. It was pink and came with a lime wedge on the rim. Crap! What was that called? Even if she could remember, odds were she’d get staked for trying to order such a drink here.

  Izel glanced over her shoulder. She looked around, frantically searching for some kind of menu. At this point she’d settle for scribbles on the wall as long as there was a frickin’ drink option she could say.

  “Whiskey it is, then,” the barmaid said, slapping a palm on the counter. She grabbed a small glass from under the bar, raised it to her lips, and gave it a hefty blow before pouring the auburn liquid in. Izel was pretty sure she saw dust fly out of the glass when the woman blew into it. She slid the exceedingly full glass to Izel.

  “Th-thank you.” Izel grasped the small glass in her shaky hand. She glanced to her left, then to her right. Had everyone closed in on her? Izel suddenly felt like she was on display—six pairs of eyes staring, waiting to see if she’d really drink. She pressed the brim to her open lips. With a short exhale through her nose, she flung her head back and let the warm liquor roll down her throat in one swallow. Her eyes instantly watered, and she stifled a cough as she brought the empty shot glass back down to rest on the bar.

  “Whoo! Nay too bad, eh, girlie?” The barmaid was smiling, pouring another. “Think ya can do it again?” the woman asked, sliding the newly filled glass to Izel. With everyone’s eyes on her, Izel lifted the glass, saluted the staring patrons, and repeated the phrase she’d heard her roommates say throughout the years when presented with any kind of challenge.

  “Fuckin’ A!”

  With a few hoots and hollers from the crowd, Izel downed another shot and slammed it back on the counter. The barmaid grinned, shook her head, and poured another.

  Kelvin raised his face to the hot spray of water. A tinge of panic rolled down his spine. He needed to build up a resistance against the human, needed to keep himself strong. He was useless to his clan otherwise. Christ, since he’d met Izel, he hadn’t thought of vengeance for his father’s death once! And no, that was not a peaceful, freeing weight to let go of. Kelvin banged a fist against the tile. He was waging a losing battle and he knew it. Just remembering her eyes on him, the way she stared, as if transfixed by his body, licking her lips. He banged his fist again.

  If Kelvin bedded her before the Solstice, he would lose all desire for her upon awaking at dawn… right? At the very least, he’d be released from her, one way or another. But if Kelvin didn’t desire her, all his problems would be solved. Well, most of his problems. Now all he had to do was convince Izel to sleep with him before the darkest day. His gut twisted. Adding insult to injury, huh? Perhaps he was barbaric.

  He let out a loud exhale. He could either seduce her or get her to hate him. He glanced at the brand on his wrist as he flipped the faucet off and tore the shower curtain aside. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around his waist, deciding he’d just have to deal with this mess as it came. Still faintly scenting Izel, he stepped into the living room—noticing right away the small cottage lacked a curvy brunette. He sniffed the air and whipped around, finding her shirt knotted around the bathroom door handle.

  “That bloody female!” He would throttle her for this. He dried and dressed quickly, pulled his boots on, and stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him. He lifted his head to the sky, the night’s inky presence flooding him. He took a deep breath—his gaze darted north. The tavern. Lass better be enjoying herself, because once he got her home, she was going to beg for his mercy.

  Chapter 10

  Kelvin burst through the tavern’s door. With only six men loitering inside the tiny pub, it was not hard to spot the one beauty he’d come for.

  Izel was hunched over a pool table with a man leaning in behind her. “You line up your shot like this,” the stranger muttered in her ear, but Kelvin heard the whispers clear as day. Kelvin watched the man place his hands on her forearms and press the front of his body against her back.

  A fire raged through Kelvin at the sight of another man pawing his human like that.

  He attempted to take deep breaths, and he fisted his hands. Seeing her with this stranger made him want to take her over
his knee and spank that pretty arse of hers for fraternizing with another male.

  “Izel,” he gritted between clenched teeth.

  “Kel! I’m so glad you’re here! Hey, Varina”—she looked at the woman behind the bar—“can I get a drink for my friend here, please?”

  The barmaid traded glances with Kelvin. “Whiskey neat,” he said, marching toward Izel and the stupid male hovering over her. He hadn’t planned on drinking, but at this point a little alcohol was welcome. She was in no immediate danger, but no matter how many times he told himself this, his blood wouldn’t cool. Jealousy twisted in his gut as if it were a dull dagger.

  “I see you have no trouble makin’ friends, lass.” He clenched his fists, his claws digging into his palms. They felt sharper than usual. He took a deep breath, trying to tamp down his anger. Before she could speak, Kelvin turned his back on her and headed toward the bar. He grabbed his glass of scotch and sat on a stool.

  He would try to treat her like any other wench. Besides the fact that Izel was beautiful, supposedly powerful, harboring an unclear prophecy—oh, and she was the last full-blooded human, not to mention his fated female—she was nothing special. Kelvin wondered how many more times he’d have to tell himself this until he believed it. When would he accept that this mortal meant nothing to him? Deep down, he knew the answer to that.

  Never.

  Despite his inner turmoil, he didn’t have to let her in on his struggle. How he felt and how he treated her would remain two separate entities.

  Kelvin took a deep swallow of his drink, never taking his eyes off her. She smiled at him, her enchanting green gaze seeming to glitter. The lass was obviously drunk, but Kelvin couldn’t help staring at her skirt snaking higher, her tan thighs flexing with each step she took toward him.

  Shite! He needed to focus on how he was going to relinquish her, not how he wanted to bend her over the bar and fuck her so hard she forgot all other males. It was time to remind her of who he was. Oh, aye, the lass wanted him, a fact he was going to exploit and enjoy the ever-living hell out of.