The Darkest Day

by Britt Bury

  Guess I’ll know for certain in a few minutes.

  With apples cradled in one arm, she glanced at the forest beyond as she opened the tower door. Her motion was halted by the most hauntingly gray eyes she’d ever seen glowing amongst the forest’s early morning shadows. Fear raced through her. Dropping the fruit, she screamed.

  The blazing silver eyes stayed locked on Izel as a figure emerged from the shadows. “It’s all right, Izel. I am of your kind, your clan.” Her eyes went wide when the being came into view.

  He was tall, lean, and sitting on the most massive horse she’d ever seen. The man’s black hair was neatly combed off his face, and his dark brows drew together as he examined her. He had a strong, clean-shaven jaw, and his thick lips pressed into a harsh line.

  She froze under his scrutiny. He was of her kind? No frickin’ way. Rumor was that beholding the face of a Warrior Fionn, one could become entranced by their beauty. Good probability the man before her was such a Fionn.

  Not getting off his horse, he drew closer, stopping right in front her. It was then that four other Warriors emerged from the shadows, also on horseback, flanking behind the gray-eyed immortal currently peering down at her. Seeing the men, she realized she’d never thought to ask for a horse.

  She ran a shaky hand over her opposite forearm. Aside from wearing a man’s shirt, her tangled hair and throbbing lips may as well have screamed, “Just been fucked.”

  “We’ve come to take you home,” the Fionn said.

  Izel heard the rumbling steps of a pissed-off Pookah barreling down the tower stairs. All eyes swung to the shaking pillar. The gray-eyed Fionn let out an exaggerated breath and dismounted his horse. Rolling his eyes, he unsheathed his sword.

  Holy God, he must be seven feet tall!

  Her Pookah was tall, somewhere around six nine. He was also packed with large muscles and ruggedly handsome. The creature before her was lean, almost graceful in his movements, with starkly angelic features.

  Kelvin burst through the door, heavy sword in hand, wearing only his jeans. He snatched Izel’s arm and pushed her behind him. The four still-mounted Fionns moved to descend upon them, but the silver-eyed leader held up his hand, signaling for them to remain mounted. She peeked around Kelvin’s heaving back. The Warrior who faced them was oddly calm, his demeanor calculating.

  “Do no’ think ta take her, Fionn,” Kelvin snarled.

  The Fionn tilted his head. “She’s my betrothed, Kerr.”

  What!

  “And our chief.” He glanced over his shoulder at the men behind him.

  These immortals were part of the Campbell clan? She went to step around Kelvin, but his arm shot out, refusing to let her pass. “Kel,” she touched his steely bicep, “is this my clan?” Never taking his eyes off the Fionn, he gave her a quick nod.

  Well, that had been easy. Here she thought she’d have to track them down. She stepped forward, but Kelvin’s arm held firm. “Pookah? Stop. You said you’d help me find the Campbell clan, and here they are.” She’d barely finished her statement when he shot her a deadly glare over his shoulder.

  “Did he now?” The Fionn said, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes darted between the two men. Obviously she was missing something. It hadn’t been a big secret that Kelvin didn’t particularly like her grandfather, but now that they were together—

  Together? We’re not “together.” The sun isn’t even up yet.

  The Fionn smirked at her, as if about to say something.

  “Hold your tongue, Thompson, or by Christ I’ll chop it off.” Kelvin hissed.

  Thompson?

  The Fionn smiled and kept his eyes on her, ignoring Kelvin’s threat. “Izel, I am Andrew Thompson, the Battle Chief of the Campbell clan and acting Head Chief. However, now that we’ve found you, we can take you to our castle wherein you’ll be sworn in as our leader.”

  Her grandfather had told her to find Andrew Thompson and the clan. She’d been worried they were going to lock her away, but apparently they wanted to make her their chief. Maybe they feared this supposed power she held. Andrew obviously knew something. Between the combined lack of sleep and a general understanding of what the hell was going on, she stuck with her previous internal thought. “Ah, what?”

  “He thinks ta take you only ta use you,” Kelvin interjected quickly. Her shoulders scrunched, she remained behind him. She trusted Kelvin, and if he said that this man was trouble, she would believe him.

  “Lying to the woman, Kerr?” Andrew tsked with a sarcastic laugh. He bent at the waist, leaning in slightly. “Don’t look now, Pookah”—he tilted his chin at Izel—“but you’re defending a Campbell.”

  A deep rumble came from Kelvin’s chest.

  “Izel.” Andrew spoke to her as if the massive immortal shielding her body was invisible, “I’ve known you were human since your birth. I was there. Your grandfather enacted our betrothal and took you to the States the night your parents”—his gray eyes flickered in Kelvin’s direction—“died.”

  Her mouth hung open as she stared at her supposed husband-to-be. None of this made sense.

  “This is all in the journal he left you,” Andrew finished.

  Frick! Suddenly she felt like she was two weeks late with her homework.

  “I haven’t had a chance to read all of it.” Her excuse sounded pitiful. The Fionn’s eyes raked over her.

  “I see. Well”—he pursed his lips and looked at Kelvin before his critical gaze landed back on her—“it seems the Pookah has been occupying your time with other matters.”

  Kelvin snapped his teeth at the remark and she flushed with embarrassment. “She is no’ yours, nor will she go with you.”

  Andrew brandished his sword. “I grow tired of this, Kerr. You’ve already caused enough damage. She’s our chief, and we’re taking her.”

  Peeking her head around Kelvin, she attempted to swallow back any awkwardness. “I want to stay with Kelvin. Maybe we can work something out? Kel can come with us.” Andrew glared at her just as the Fionns behind him roared with laughter.

  “Stop it!” she yelled. She’d had enough. First she’d had to deal with Kelvin’s moods about this tiff between clans or whatever, and now these oversized Fionns were laughing at her? “If I’m your chief, then you must listen to me, right?”

  Everyone fell silent and she caught sight of Kelvin’s smirk. “And you,” she shoved at his arm, “need to let me face them.” She looked at Andrew, ready to pitch her idea of peace, but the Fionn cut off her words before they even left her mouth.

  “The Pookah cannot come with us. And you cannot stay with him.”

  So sick of people telling her what to do, she opened her mouth to argue but once again was cut off by the domineering warrior.

  “Why would you want a dishonest beast exploiting and extorting you any longer?”

  His words smacked her ears like a painful flick of fingers. Sure, Kelvin was moody, but he had saved her. Protected her and helped her.

  “Kel hasn’t been dishonest. He told me about his kind and how—”

  “How he’s taking you to his castle to be tortured and killed?”

  Her stomach dropped. The Fionn was lying, had to be. She scoffed at Andrew. Looking up at her handsome Pookah, she smiled, shaking her head. “Kelvin would never.” But her face fell when she saw Kelvin’s blue eyes look down at her, a pained expression washing over his face.

  “He’s used you, Izel. You have a prophecy—you’re powerful. You’re also the head of our clan.” He inclined his head toward Kelvin. “He hates Campbells. Hates Fionns. Hates you.”

  Kelvin’s lips drew back from his teeth angrily, but Andrew continued. “That Pookah you stand next to has murdered our brethren. Killed—”

  “Enough!” Kelvin bellowed, raising his sword.

  Breath stuck in her throat as she tried to inhale. No, she wouldn’t believe it. She turned to her Pookah again. “Kelvin?”

  She swallowed hard and a thick heat bubbled in her gut. “
It’s not true… tell them it’s not true.” Her pleading voice broke. “Tell me it’s not true.”

  “I can no’, lass. I will no’ lie ta you again, but I would never hurt you.”

  Her heart felt like it was pumping dry ice through her body, recalling what he had also told her when she’d released him from his vow, watched the brand on his wrist disappear.

  “You didn’t hurt me,” she whispered. “You destroyed me.”

  His eyes were smoldering, lashes misted wet. His brow creased, holding her gaze, but he didn’t say a word.

  His silence stung like a hard slap to the face. She winced, pain assailing her as if he’d just reached out and ripped the heart from her chest. The blood must have left her face, because suddenly she felt dizzy, cold. She stepped toward Andrew.

  Kelvin lunged for her, but the Fionn was quick to raise his blade to Kelvin’s neck. The other Fionns dismounted, drawing their swords, readying to fight, but Kelvin only gnashed his teeth.

  “You think the lot o’ ya can keep me from her?” He looked straight at Andrew. “Honestly, Thompson, I’m insulted you brought only four.”

  She saw a muscle tick in Andrew’s jaw and his gray eyes narrowed. The Pookah had obviously hit a chord. Seeing Kelvin’s obvious reaction to her, Andrew sneered and played on his emotions. “You may hurt her, even kill her fighting for her. Not that her life was ever a concern of yours.”

  “I will always fight for her!” Kelvin hissed in a venomous rage.

  “No!” Izel was shocked to hear the strangled cry came from her own mouth.

  What had just happened? In a matter of seconds, she had gone from loving—

  Loving?

  She choked on a sob. As if she even knew what love was. God knew the Pookah certainly didn’t.

  “Lass, I did no’—”

  “Don’t.” Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. She looked at him, and something in her expression must have registered with Kelvin, because he stepped away from her, raking his nails over his chest, as if she were hurting him.

  The Pookah had stormed into her life, weapons drawn, and that’s how he would exit it. She met his gaze, her vision going blurry, longing for the day she’d met him, his blade at her throat. “I wish I’d been so lucky for your sword to finish what it started when I met you.”

  When she stood next to Andrew, Kelvin seemed to snap out of his thoughts and charge. But Andrew threw a sparkly dust in front of him and Kelvin dropped to his knees. Between gritted teeth he snarled. “Sleeping powder? What a coward you are. Can you no’ fight me yourself?”

  The muscles in the Pookah’s chest tensed, obviously fighting against the effects of the powder. Before she was able to process the scene, Andrew scooped her up and placed her on his horse. The Fionns behind him mounted as well.

  “I wish I could stay, but I have to be getting back. We have company waiting.” He hopped behind her on the large steed and pulled on the reins. “A sweet little Poet just came into the keeping of a Wolverine for a pet.”

  Izel watched Kelvin’s heavy lids shoot wide, as if some kind of realization hit him. “You… will pay… for this… Thompson,” he grated before turning his stare to her. He jutted his chin up. “Sunrise.”

  She watched yellow rays break over the horizon. Looking back at Kelvin, she felt his blue gaze bore into hers, and he whispered, “You…” Eyes sliding closed, his big body crashed backward, succumbing to unconsciousness.

  Chapter 22

  The trek to the Campbell castle—rather, her castle—was awful. Bumping along atop an oversized horse, Izel barely clung to Andrew’s shirt as she gazed off into the distance. She glanced down at her chest, surprised, yet again, to see no gaping hole. Odd, because it felt as though the Pookah had plunged his fist through her skin and torn the beating heart from between her ribs.

  She’d been so stupid. Her eyes burned with tears. She wanted to cry. Needed to. But instead, she jostled around before Andrew, trying to zone out. Her mind simply couldn’t handle any more.

  Obviously the question of whether she was Kelvin’s mate had been answered loud and clear. Typically one did not hate and want to torture their mate. She may be naive, but she was pretty certain that wasn’t the way of things.

  It had been dark, he’d needed to have sex with someone, and Izel was the closest thing with two legs, she rationalized. Everything else he’d said was a lie. A front. She had to give him credit; the Pookah had had her believing it.

  Once Kelvin passed out, Andrew wanted to either kill him or take him prisoner, but Izel wouldn’t allow it. Shaking her head, she ordered that he be left alone. Something in her eyes must have spoken volumes beyond her words because no one fought her decision.

  Dead or alive, Izel refused to hold the Pookah’s life in her hands the way he had held hers. She didn’t have the heart, literally, to have him killed, but she also knew she could never face him again.

  “How long will he sleep?” she asked over the sound of clomping hooves.

  Andrew shrugged. “Hour or two.” The horse was picking up speed, forcing her to cling a little tighter to the saddle. Although Andrew’s body was warm and smelled good, it was nothing like the heat and spicy scent of her Pookah.

  No. He’s not mine.

  Tears almost escaped, but she willed them back once more. Not only did she have to figure out a way to shrug off this betrayal, but she also had to piece together her nearly nonexistent pride.

  Literally after she’d just rolled out of bed with Kelvin, various members of her clan had witnessed firsthand what a disgrace she was. A short breath escaped her throat. She didn’t even want to know what her grandfather would think.

  “Once we clear the brush, we’ll have a straight shot. Maybe twenty minutes to the castle.”

  She nodded, looking out at the forest as they passed. She replayed everything that had been said. She was to be chief of the clan, but she didn’t know the first thing about being a leader. Her only hope for guidance was from her grandfather, and she wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive. And the shot she’d had at speaking with the witch Ryo at the Kerr castle was gone. She’d have to find another way. She had to find Euan and help him. Because not only did she miss him, she didn’t think she’d be much good as a leader. How useful was a depressed human with a broken heart?

  Something else occurred to her. “You hold a Wolverine Pookah prisoner?” she asked.

  “Yes. About a week ago, a Poet Fionn from the States unknowingly lured him right to us,” Andrew replied. After a moment he added, “We’ve been on your trail for the last few days but kept losing your scent.”

  Just as they cleared the trees, he spurred the horse and the animal leapt into a full gallop. The Fionn’s encasing arms tightened around her sides. She couldn’t help thinking once more, He smells nothing like Kelvin.

  The ride onto the property took just a few minutes. Soon Izel stared down at the Campbell clan stronghold. Although the castle was beautiful and masterfully modernized, she hardly noticed the lavish interior of what she would now be calling home once they’d entered. Desperate to be alone, she asked to be shown straight to her quarters so she could retire and lick her wounds in private. Andrew escorted her up a polished staircase and down a long hallway, stopping at a set of French doors.

  The gold knobs glinted in the light as Andrew twisted them, swinging the doors open wide. The room—more a suite of rooms, really—was gorgeous. The large bed was covered in deep purple silks, and Izel wanted to run and hide under the covers. Her eyes surveyed her surroundings, taking in a massive walk-in closet, nook, and adjacent bathroom.

  “I’ll leave you to rest.”

  “Andrew?” Doorknob in his grip, he stopped at the door and turned to look at her. “You… intend to marry me?”

  Expressionless, he muttered, “It is my obligation.” Giving her a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he left, latching the door behind him.

  Bile threatened to rise to her throat and a jol
ting chill rolled down her spine. How quickly things had changed in a few short hours. She’d gone from being a hopeful human with a sense of security to the disregarded fool who fell for lies, forced to stand in humiliation while an audience of her clan members viewed the withering of her soul.

  She was done trusting. Done feeling. She would do her duty as Euan had originally instructed. It was, after all, the least she could do. She would be a locked-up mortal with no desire for freedom. She would simply exist. Just as she had been before that glamour had worn off.

  Turning on the tub faucet, she watched the large bathtub fill with steaming water. She removed her—his—shirt. It was then that the first tear of what would be many fell. She could still smell him on her. Between her legs she was still wet with his seed. A strangled breath broke from her throat as she yanked thick curtains closed, shutting out the early afternoon sunlight coming through the window.

  Never had she been so desperate to disappear.

  “Where in the bloody hell have you been!” Ian yelled, bursting through the double doors of Kelvin’s chambers. “And why do you no’ have the human? And how—”

  Kelvin shot his brother an evil glare, causing him to cut short his rant.

  There must have been something menacing behind his eyes because Ian held up his palms, easing toward him. “Talk ta me, brother.” Ian sat down beside him on the bed. Hunched over, elbows on his knees, cupping a glass of scotch, Kelvin shook his head.

  “I lost her.” He threw back his head, swallowing the liquor in one gulp.

  “It’s all right.” Ian slapped his shoulder. “Though the human is technically chief by right, once she marries Thompson, he’ll most likely—”

  “She will no’ be marrying that sodding, fucking bawbag!” He slammed to his feet, chucking his glass at the fireplace, shattering it instantly. He paced the room.

  I am a caged beast.

  His woman was gone. He had failed her.

  He vaguely perceived Ian talking at him, but all Kelvin could think of were her eyes. He replayed that gut-wrenching, horrible moment when her trusting green gaze had looked up at him, begging him to deny the truth. Deny that he had deceived her from the moment he saw her. That look was going to haunt his dreams for the rest of his poor excuse of an immortal life.