The Darkest Day

by Britt Bury

  He lowered his chin and grinned at her. Just like all the others, he thought, trying to convince himself. He knew she’d come to him. Glass in hand, he turned his back to the bar and rested his elbows on the counter. With one foot on the bottom of the stool, he let the other rest on the floor. Open to her advance, he held her stare. This is what confidence looks like, little female. Now come ta your male.

  The Pookah looked like he owned the place. He projected a haughty attitude of pure masculine strength, and damn, it looked good on him. Had she been in her right mind, she might have scoffed at his arrogance, called him a tool, and gone back to pretending he had no effect on her whatsoever. But the scotch in her belly burned, pumping liquid courage through her system. It was a beautiful thing.

  The Pookah cleaned up well. His dark jeans were finished with a black leather belt and the thin material of his simple white tee clung to the indentations of his muscular chest and torso. Goddamn, he was fine. Her physical reaction to him was even worse now, because she’d already seen firsthand what was beneath the fabric.

  “Looks like you found me,” she sighed, wriggling herself between his open knees. She didn’t know if it was her emotions or raw lust overtaking her body, emboldening her, or just the effects of the liquor, but she didn’t really care. Consequences seemed inconsequential.

  “You were easy ta find. Honestly, human, I expected more of a challenge from you.” He leaned away from her and finished his scotch in one large swallow.

  “Well, my darling Pookah,” she purred, swishing her hips against his inner thighs. Did she just hear him growl? “Perhaps I got sidetracked.” She gave him the most devious expression she could manage before turning her back on him and sauntering over to the man she had just met, who was still standing by the pool table.

  Hope you enjoy the view.

  Man, alcohol made her catty! But she loved it. At least tonight, she would say and feel anything she wanted. Yes, she desired Kelvin, but he had also hurt her newly discovered feelings. From over her shoulder, she heard glass break. It sounded like someone had just slammed down their drink a little too hard on the counter.

  She smiled.

  Reaching the pool table and the man that stood next to it, she spun to face Kelvin. She felt her smile wither as he rose and with noticeable rage stalked toward her. Okay, now she was kind of scared. Kelvin looked like he was about to kill somebody, and that last shot she had taken suddenly kicked in. Her stomach churned and her eyes went blurry. She tried to gain a sense on the situation but was currently lacking the necessary brain function to do so. “I, ah, um”—her calves swayed and she slapped a palm against her forehead. “Kel, this is, um, Greer,” she snapped her fingers, trying to act casual and in control, looking at the man she’d just met. “Greer’s a, he’s ah…”

  “He’s a shifter, and I donna care,” Kelvin barked, shooting a look of pure venom at Greer.

  “Well, it seems the lady prefers my company over yours, Pookah,” Greer said in a brash tone.

  God, what was it with cocky males! But suddenly she felt like she had bigger problems. Now with every sway, her stomach was overcome by nausea and her head by fatigue. She held up her hands between the two oversized immortals she was sandwiched between.

  Christ, what was she thinking? Why was she trying to infuriate Kelvin? What was she trying to prove? That he wanted her? So what? He was a guy and sex was sex. It didn’t mean he desired her beyond that. The room started to spin, which was weird because she was certain the bar had been grounded when she first entered.

  “I don’t feel so good.” Her eyes shot to the Pookah. “Please, get me out of here.”

  Ah, Christ. The lass was so blotto she could barely stand. She looked up at him from beneath her thick lashes and he was helpless. Kelvin realized that all she had to do was bat her eyes and he’d be on his knees in a second. Best she never find that out.

  Although he wanted to rip the shifter apart for even looking at his human, he knew Izel was in a bad way. He could smell the alcohol on her and wondered how in the hell she was able to even talk. The shifter awaited his move, obviously wanting to fight. Kelvin glared at him and did something he never thought he’d ever do—he backed down from a challenge. His female needed him, and that was priority.

  Kelvin glared at the shifter, wrapped his arm around Izel’s tiny waist, and ushered her away. “Seems I am her preference this eve. ’Til next time, shifter.” He laid a fifty-pound note on the bar before exiting.

  The cool mist from the river wafted over them. Kelvin felt Izel shiver in response. He tightened his hold on her. She stumbled and would have fallen face-first had he not caught her wobbling body.

  “Ah, bugger this.” He scooped her up, cradled her slight frame against his, and carried her back to the cottage. He heard a sigh and felt her breath against his neck. Kelvin looked down at the face of an angel resting against his chest. When her wee hand clung to his shirt, he hugged her tighter.

  Once again, his mind and body were completely at odds. He should be dragging his enemy by the hair, not holding her as if she were a fragile treasure. But she was fragile. She was the last fragile thing this realm had.

  Kelvin was still humming from the rage of thwarted combat. The way she’d consorted with that shifter, yes, he’d make her pay for that. Was she trying to drive him mad? Did she even have the slightest idea what he was capable of? His fully submitting to the Razorback within was a terrifying sight for outsiders.

  With Izel firmly in his hold, Kelvin unlatched and kicked open the door of the rental then booted it closed behind them. He took her straight into the bedroom. Still clasping her, he lowered her feet to the floor. She swayed, her legs acting as though made of mush. Poor lass would regret this tomorrow. He grasped the hem of her shirt and tugged it over her head.

  “Wha-der you doing?” she mumbled, feebly swatting at his hands.

  “I’m undressing you for bed.” His hands slid down her smooth legs and began unfastening the clasps of her heels.

  “I can do it myself,” she protested as she gripped Kelvin’s shoulders for balance. She stepped from her shoes and he tossed them aside. His fingers met the hem of her skirt. “I said I can do it,” she slurred again, but he ignored her, removing the flimsy material she deemed a skirt.

  “Donna fight me. I am verra capable of disrobing a woman.”

  “Galh! You know what, you rake, you may have ‘disrobed’ your share of ‘lasses’ in your stupidly long life”—was she air-quoting?—“but just know that all this”—he watched Izel, clad in only her black lace bra and panties, run her hands over her generous breasts and down her flat belly—“is a no-touchy for you.”

  She turned and Kelvin, still, ironically, on his knees, was gifted with the sight of her marvelous backside. He watched her crawl onto the bed and flop down on her back. “You forget, lass.” He rose and sat next to her. “I have already touched you.”

  She rolled over onto her stomach, turning to face him. “That’ll never happen again. I’m getting a better handle on my emotions, you know. No more Izel the Impulsive for you, mister.” She rolled to her back again.

  Kelvin gazed down at her, running a hand over his mouth. Beams of moonlight shot in from the window, making her skin glow against the darkness. “You can no’ tell me in truth that you donna think of it, of us, last night in the woods.” He checked the urge to run his palm down her belly. He didn’t know what he was aiming for, talking with her like this.

  “Of course I think about it,” she whispered.

  Kelvin couldn’t help himself. He would never physically take advantage of her in this state, but he knew she would likely remember little of this conversation. He jumped at the opportunity to gain insight. “And what is it you think of?”

  Her eyes still closed, she smiled. “Your taste.”

  Christ almighty.

  Kelvin was already struggling to harness his lust for this woman. But to see her plump lips part into a wicked smile when talkin
g about him… “So you have fond memories, then?” He wanted to touch her so badly it hurt.

  “They’re the only ones I have,” she mumbled.

  “What do you mean?” Why was he pushing this? Perhaps he wanted to know her. Perhaps he was using this opportunity to earn her trust. Or maybe he just wanted any excuse to look at her.

  “You’re it, Kel. The only person I’ve ever felt anything for… I’m afraid.”

  It finally hit him. Izel had never been allowed to truly feel. Not love for her family or friends. Not joy or happiness. Since the emergence of her emotions, she had only been around him—and God help him, he couldn’t be happier that he was the one receiving her affections.

  She was obviously fighting sleep and struggling to speak around her intoxication. Even with her eyes closed, she tilted her head toward him. Unable to stop himself, he traced a stray curl from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

  “What are you afraid of, lass?”

  Izel nuzzled her cheek against her own arm. “That I’ll never be able to quit you.”

  It was like a sucker punch to the gut. This naive little mortal had deep feelings for him. While this thought made pride rush through his body, at the same time heavy guilt slugged through his veins like a thick poison.

  Kelvin rested his elbows on his knees, threaded his fingers together, and held the bridge of his nose between his thumbs. What the hell was he going to do? He thought of his previous options: get her to sleep with him, or get her to hate him. He looked down at the angel resting next to him, deciding in this one moment to be honest.

  “And what if I had the same fear? What if it was I who became addicted ta you?”

  With her thick lashes fringing over her pink cheeks, she smiled. “Enticed, not addicted. A man like you is dependent on no one.”

  His eyes were fixated on her face. Her delicate features seemed overshadowed by pain and longing. She shuddered. Kelvin saw a strong tremor shoot through her body, gliding along her skin. Poor lass. When would these aftershocks end? He inhaled deeply and clenched his jaw. The sweet smell of desire radiated from her. She must have just been hit with feelings of lust. It was too much. He had to touch her.

  He laid a flat palm high on her chest, just above the swell of her breast. She moaned and he scented that her arousal deepened. He ran his hand down her body, sliding between her full breasts to her flat belly. She arched to his touch, as if desperate for him to keep exploring her. He’d never seen a woman more on edge. It wasn’t just her scent. Kelvin could actually feel her need burn within her. Her body called to him. Needed him.

  A single touch; that’s all it’d take to bring her off. He scanned her body. This female was aching for what he’d gladly kill to give her. “Please. Just once I want to feel, to have…” His eyes widened at her words. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

  “Have you no’ ever had an orgasm?” Her pretty pink cheeks flushed before she turned her head away from him. So that was the way of it. With all the new emotions flooding her, it wasn’t any wonder she was nearly writhing with discomfort. The urge to please her, to pleasure and ease her, became overwhelming. His muscles heated and his heart pounded in his chest. His shaft had never been so hard. He wanted to make her come more than he wanted to breathe. But no’ like this. No, he wanted her fully aware, able to feel every touch of his hand and taste of his tongue.

  With strength he hadn’t known he possessed, Kelvin rose from the bed and tucked her under the covers. She mumbled unrecognizable words before drifting into sleep. He stood by the bed for long moments, just gazing at her. She looked so innocent and he couldn’t take that from her.

  Kelvin absently ran a palm down the front of his jeans. He would have to push her away, and the farther he pushed, the more likely she’d stay away.

  Sleep well, lass, because tomorrow, you’re gonna wish you’d never met me.

  Chapter 11

  “Time to wake up, human. Your potion is relenting.”

  Izel inhaled deeply. Jeez, he didn’t have to scream at her. She palmed her forehead. Her thoughts were foggy, and her brain felt two sizes too large for her skull. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she slowly sat up. She swallowed back a hot, foul taste. “Wh-what happened?”

  “You drank your weight in whiskey and flounced around town.”

  “Shhh. There’s no need to yell at me, Pookah.” She creaked open her eyes and thought she saw Kelvin grin. He was undoubtedly loving this right now. Izel placed a hand over her stomach. Her skin was cool.

  Skin? Not shirt? She looked down.

  “Um… why am I in my underwear?” She fumbled for the sheet, pulling it to her neck, her muscles protesting the sudden movement. “You didn’t, I mean, we didn’t…”

  “No. I removed your garments so you could sleep more soundly,” he said in a bored tone. “Here.” He threw her a wad of clothing. “Get up. Take a quick shower and dress. The longer you linger, the more at risk you are.” Kelvin had already bathed, shaved, and dressed. He strode into the living room and began securing his pack.

  Izel swallowed back more tangy, disgusting saliva and lurched from the bed. Had she been able to think more clearly, she might have been embarrassed that Kelvin saw her in this state. He was clean, handsome, and smelled like pine-scented soap. Izel ran fingers through her tangled hair. She undoubtedly looked like hell and smelled like a frat house. She grabbed up the pair of jeans, tank top, and undergarments Kelvin had tossed her and headed into the bathroom.

  To her surprise, after a quick shower she felt much better. Brushing her teeth twice, she dressed, ran fingers through her hair, and met Kelvin in the living room. Everything was packed, including her bag.

  “I will no’ slow my pace just because you’re hungover,” he said, securing his pack to his shoulders.

  She only rolled her eyes, threaded her arms through the straps of her bag, and snagged a piece of cold pizza.

  “Can I have that back now?” She motioned at the small vial around Kelvin’s neck. Her vial.

  “No.” Keeping it fastened around his neck, he dropped the vial beneath his shirt, out of sight.

  The nerve of him! He was lucky she was currently consumed with the great taste of leftover pizza, otherwise she would have fought to get her vial back. For now, she would wait, and boy, would she make him suffer.

  She smiled and followed Kelvin out the door and into the early morning sun.

  After hours of hiking and staring at his back, Kelvin still hadn’t said a word. Izel was beginning to wonder if something did in fact happen last night. They hadn’t had sex—she was pretty sure she would have known, rather felt, the ramifications of that. But for the life of her, she couldn’t clearly recall—well… anything after her fifth shot.

  She ran up beside him. “What’s going on, Kelvin?”

  He slowed his pace slightly but kept his eyes forward. “I told you. I am escorting you to my castle.”

  “I mean with us. You’re acting differently.” She tried to make eye contact, but Kelvin only glanced at the graying sky. “Did something happen?”

  “Nothing happened. You were three sheets to the wind and I sent ya ta bed.” Another glance upward. What was going on with him? Izel could see his muscles tense. His jaw was set into such a hard line, it could have been made of cement. Yeah, something was definitely up.

  “Why are you behaving this way?”

  “And what way is that?” He snapped the words. She searched his face, hoping his expression would give her insight into something, anything. Unfortunately, she came up empty-handed. Animosity radiated from him.

  “Cold.”

  “How else do you expect me ta act, Izel? We’re no’ lovers. We are no’ even friends. I am your transporter. I donna wish to carry on conversations with you like last night.”

  Izel stumbled over her feet. She was pretty sure Kelvin’s words had grown legs, round-house kicked her in the face, then tripped her. Izel searched her brain, trying to recall having
any kind of lengthy conversation with the Pookah. She remembered hearing his voice, maybe while she was lying down? “What did I say?”

  Kelvin looked at the sky again and exhaled loudly. He stopped and turned to face her. His brow furrowed. He looked like he was battling against voices in his head or something. Seriously, what was wrong with this man?

  “You told me that you are lacking. That you have never had”—his gaze drifted over her body—“any pleasure.” He sneered the last word. “And you told me that you wanted me.” Izel’s body flushed hot. It suddenly felt like her legs couldn’t support her weight and someone was squeezing her lungs. She took in a shaky breath.

  “A-and?” She didn’t know if she wanted to hear more, but she forced herself to ask. How could she have said those things?

  Kelvin shrugged, raising one eyebrow. “I informed you that I would no doubt take you and make you climax, but after such you’d be ruined for other males.” Izel could have caught flies in her mouth. A sharp pain pierced her chest. She looked down, wondering why Kelvin would stab her, but there was no knife. She looked at his face. His stare bore into hers. “Yet after all that, after me telling you that you’d be no more than just another notch ta me, you still pitifully reached out and begged me ta take you.”

  And the knife twisted. Izel felt her eyes fill with tears. She’d never heard more powerful, gut-wrenching words in all her life. She concentrated on keeping her lower chin from quivering.

  “Personally,” Kelvin continued, “a life of no pleasure seems a pathetic existence. It’s no wonder you resort to begging.”

  Izel barely kept her knees from buckling and she held her lips tightly closed, trying not to retch. His sharp, blunt words cut through the space between them, sending shivers down her spine. Her stomach boiled, and it felt like tiny daggers sliced her palms. She hung her head. She hadn’t realized she was fisting her hands so hard that her nails drew blood.

  Kelvin Kerr, with disdain in his voice, had somehow made her, a twenty-five-year-old virgin, feel cheap.