Dark Desire: Dark Series 2

by Lauren Dawes

  Further down the valley, more Mares were fleeing their houses now, looking hastily over their shoulders. Small children were being carried in the arms of their frightened parents, their screams of fear echoing between the vast mountains that hemmed in their village, traveling to Darrion’s ears and sending chills through his blood.

  “Dar?” Ara asked again, pulling at the bottom of his tunic for him to pick her up. Scooping her into his arms, he held her close and watched as more slashes of color flashed around the settlement. Whoever they were, they were coming closer.

  Ara began crying when she saw a rider on a horse cutting down one of the female dark elves running with her young child clutched tightly to her chest. There was that flash of color again … except it was more than one color.

  Gold.

  Scarlet.

  Blue.

  Black.

  More colors than Darrion could count, but he knew in that moment who they were.

  Valkyries.

  The loud whinnying of a horse drew his attention. The eight legs of Sleipnir were clear to see, and astride that horse was Odin—the All-Father.

  “No,” Darrion cried out softly. “No.” He had thought they’d be safe here. Clutching his sobbing sister closer to his chest, Darrion turned and ran towards home. Those horrible screams followed him until he drowned them out by slamming the wooden door behind him.

  His mother looked up, startled, from her sewing. “Darrion, what is it?” The yarn in her lap fell to the floor as she stood up, the spool unraveling along the wooden floor. The fear in his eyes must have told her everything she needed to know, and she began wringing her hands together until her knuckles turned white. Darrion’s sister was wailing now, and his mother moved to take her.

  “Hush, Ara.” She turned her dark eyes to Darrion. “What has happened?”

  “They’re coming … he’s coming.”

  A strangled cry broke from his mother’s lips, but she said nothing more, just held Ara closer.

  “Where is Father?” he asked, moving toward the small window and looking out past the rough fabric covering the crude opening. He could see the first few dark elves who had fled the village making their way past their house now.

  And still his mother said nothing. Darrion swung around, seeing that her wide eyes were fixed on the door. “Mother! Where is Father?” He’d raised his voice, shocking her out of her fear.

  “He’s … he’s out tilling the fields.”

  Cursing under his breath, Darrion knew he had no choice. He turned towards the door.

  “What are you doing?” she asked frantically.

  He met his mother’s eyes first, then his sister’s. “I’m going to fetch him home.”

  Tears dripped down his mother’s face. “You can’t. They’ll kill you.”

  “We’ll be sitting ducks here without him.” He could see that she knew he was right, but her natural instinct to protect her children was warring with her common sense.

  “I’ll go instead,” she said. “I can fade to him and be back instantly.”

  “No, Mamma!” Ara wailed, tightening her grip around their mother’s neck. Darrion knew this was the only way they could survive. He wouldn’t be old enough to fade for another fifty years … if he survived today’s attack, that was.

  “Ara, come and stay with me. We’ll hide and wait for Mamma to come back … come on,” he coaxed, pulling her from their mother’s arms and into his. He raised his eyes to his mother. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

  Darrion watched his mother fade from the room and then turned toward the hidey-hole that had been built into the wall when their house had been constructed. He pulled open the door and eased Ara inside.

  A bloodcurdling scream just outside the door spun his head around. Ara began crying harder, and that was the last thing they needed—to draw attention to themselves.

  “Hush, Ara. It’s all right. It was only the scream of a horse.” His words did nothing to ease the little girl and she cried even harder.

  “What if it’s Ascal?” she heaved through her wracking sobs.

  “Your horse is in the back field with mine. It was not Ascal.” That seemed to work. She stopped sobbing, looking up at him with tears tracking slowly down her face, streaking the mud in fine dark lines down her cheeks. “Now stay here. I’m going to keep an eye out for the Valkyries.”

  Standing up, Darrion pushed the door to, but didn’t close it properly in case he needed to dive in. Walking quietly towards the window, he tried to block out the sounds of violence vibrating through the wood. Looking out, he saw his neighbors lying in pools of their own blood, their bodies left where they’d fallen on the road outside their fence.

  “Darrion!” his father whispered in a harsh voice. The boy spun around, relief flooding him to see that both his father and mother were back. “Come away from there. Now.”

  He did as he was told, creeping back towards his parents. Ara sprang from the hidden cavity, throwing herself at their father’s legs.

  “Darrion, get inside the hidden room.”

  Wasting no time, he did just that, sliding inside and moving over to make room for Ara, but before she could squeeze in beside him, there was the sound of splitting wood, and his father hissed at him to close the door and hide. Darrion didn’t want to hide away like a coward while his mother, father and sister faced the goddesses who had been hunting them down for hundreds of years.

  The front door exploded in a rain of sharp wood, and the anguished tone of his father’s voice forced Darrion to close the door to his hiding place. With his heart pounding in his ears, he peered through the tiny space between the wooden slats and watched on in horror.

  A Valkyrie stepped through what was left of the door. Her golden blade dripped with the blood of the dark elves she had slaughtered, and her hard, beautiful face was expressionless as she looked over his parents and sister as if they were nothing more than vermin.

  “Please,” his mother begged. “Spare us.”

  A sneer lifted the Valkyrie’s full lips and she stepped to the side as Odin walked in through the broken doorway, his one green eye surveying the room and all the people within it.

  Ara screamed when she saw him, burrowing her face under their mother’s hair. Odin was the god their parents had told them about, the god who haunted their nightmares. His mother had said that if they were ever naughty, the All-Father would swoop down on his eight-legged horse and carry them away forever.

  His father stepped in front of his mother and Ara, shielding them from the All-Father’s view.

  The god laughed, the sound booming around the small room. “You think you can protect your women from me?” he taunted, still laughing.

  “We only want a peaceful life. We only want to raise our child and teach her our ways.”

  Odin’s expression darkened, the room darkening in turn. Darrion felt his scalp prickle with fear, and he recoiled from the small hidden door.

  “Do you think we’d let you raise your spawn so she can hunt down and kill my people? Your entire species must be wiped from the face of the Nine Worlds.”

  Darrion’s mother whimpered, shuffling away from the Valkyrie, who had just taken a step closer to them all.

  “Please,” his father begged. “We won’t—” but his words died as the Valkyrie thrust her golden sword into his chest. His mother screamed uncontrollably. She dropped to her knees beside his father’s body, Ara falling from her arms and onto the floor beside her, sobbing.

  Darrion’s fingers dug into the rough wood beneath his fingers; the splinters burrowed into his skin, but he hardly felt the sharp stab. The sound of sobbing was suddenly cut off as the same golden blade pierced the hearts of both his mother and sister.

  Darrion clamped both hands over his mouth to stop the scream burning the back of his throat from breaking free. The blood of his family leaked out onto the floor, mingling to create one huge puddle—a deep, rich crimson, the same color as Darrion’s burgeoning rage.

>   As he watched on, he could feel the hatred writhing beneath his skin, an almost living thing in his blood that demanded he avenge the death of his parents and his sister.

  Odin and his Valkyrie turned their backs and left the house as if what they had just done required not a single lingering glance.

  Once their shadows were gone and the sound of their retreating footsteps was nothing more than a distant memory, Darrion removed his hands from his mouth and the harsh, rough sounds of his breathing filled his ears. He stayed hidden until night fell—until he could be sure that Odin and his Valkyries were really gone.

  Eventually Darrion fell asleep, awaking only when hushed footsteps echoed on the cold, wooden floor. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked through the small crack in the hidden door and saw a man standing there, looking at the bodies of his family.

  “Such a waste,” he said in a low voice and turned to leave. Darrion could sense he wasn’t one of the Aesir. Taking a risk, he pushed open the door, revealing his hiding place.

  The man stopped abruptly, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t turn around. Darrion scrambled to get to his feet, his muscles sore from being cramped up for so long. The man turned and Darrion got his first look at him.

  With his long gray hair and a flowing gray beard, the almost luminescent green of his eyes looked out of place on his otherwise wizened old face. He was tall and lanky, barely a shred of muscle on him, but Darrion wasn’t about to underestimate the man.

  The man kneeled, bringing himself down to Darrion’s eye level. “What’s your name, son?”

  Darrion remained quiet.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you. What’s your name?”

  “Darrion,” he replied. What else did he have to lose? His parents and sister were dead. He was only a boy. What hope did he have of survival other than becoming a beggar?

  The man smiled. “Darrion, my name is Njord. I am—”

  “A Vanir,” Darrion gasped, taking a step back, eyes searching for something he could use as a weapon.

  “Yes,” Njord replied softly—almost angrily. “But I’ve grown tired of Odin’s ridiculous war against the dark elves. He is killing them for no other reason than for fear that they will bring down his coveted world.”

  The words were spoken with such venom that Darrion had no doubt that they were true.

  “The Vanir are rising against Odin and the Aesir for their unfounded and prejudiced persecution of your people,” Njord said.

  “What does that have to do with me?” Darrion asked, his voice a bare squeak. Fear was running through his body, turning his blood to ice. The Vanir were the gods who were in power before the Aesir. The two groups had always been civil, but it sounded as if things were about to change.

  “You are valuable,” Njord said. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  “What would you know of? You are a god of old—a magician. What would you know about our struggle? About revenge?”

  “I know a lot more than you think,” Njord glowered, causing Darrion to shrink away. Taking a few steps towards the boy, the hard thump of his boots punctuated the seriousness of the words that followed. “I can teach you how to handle a knife, how to be at one with the weapon. I can teach you how to rule others, to be respected and feared at the same time. I can give you your revenge on Odin. Don’t you want that chance?”

  Darrion was hardly listening to a word he’d been saying until the phrase “your revenge on Odin” caught his attention. Yes. That was what Darrion wanted—revenge. And the only way he would get it was if he was trained to kill …

  And this man—this god—was willing to train him. Darrion stood a little straighter and looked Njord square in the eye.

  “When do we start?”

  Chapter 4

  The club was absolutely heaving with people; gods and humans were rubbing shoulders, drinks were being spilled, women were being hit on, and Mason had to keep his eyes moving and his instincts sharp. Being able to hear people’s thoughts had always seemed to be some kind of burden, but right now, he saw the fucking silver lining. With the recent events involving Bryn and the other Valkyries still hanging over his head—weighing on his conscience—Mason listened out for any information that might fill in the blanks Bryn had refused to.

  When he started to hear the thoughts of—what he’d later found out had been—gods, he knew he was in for a whole world of pain. The only way to get away from the cacophony of sound was to concentrate on not hearing anything, like hitting the mute button on a remote control.

  Slowly, the buzzing began to die down until all he was left with was the sound of the gods’ actual voices, mingled with the human voices, chattering in his ears. Letting out a relieved breath, he focused on Bryn sitting at the bar. Her eyes were on the glass in her hand, her mind obviously far away from what was happening around her in the Eye.

  Mason refrained from listening in to see what was bothering her, finding the violation distasteful. Instead, he busied himself by scanning the crowd again. A brunette sidled into his line of sight, the whisper of a smile on her lips.

  “Hi, handsome,” she said, her voice rolling out in a guttural purr that only a three-pack-a-day smoker could pull off. Mason’s eyes flicked down to her cleavage, which was proudly on display in a low-cut blue and white paneled jersey dress. After getting a good long look at the goods, his eyes returned to her heavily made-up face.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  She smirked like she’d just gotten exactly what she’d wanted. “Bathroom?”

  Jerking his chin in the direction of the back corner of the building, he said, “Back there, past the black curtain.”

  Looking pleased with herself, she touched his forearm lightly. “Thanks.” Turning, she swaggered away, her hips swaying and holding Mason’s attention for a little longer than normal.

  “I thought you preferred blondes,” Bryn said behind him. Mason turned around to see his boss standing there, her arms folded loosely across her chest. The golden sword tattooed on the side of her neck reflected back glimpses of their surroundings.

  Mason laughed. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to women.”

  The Valkyrie snorted at him and shook her head, a small grin on her face. “You always know what to say to make me slightly feel better.”

  Of course, Bryn hadn’t had a lot to smile about recently. The light that had been in her eyes a few moments ago was now gone.

  “Hey, are you all right?” he asked, touching her shoulder.

  Her blue-ringed eyes rose to his face. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You still haven’t told me what happened to you.”

  She took a step away, looking down at the ground, her hands curled into tight fists. She refused to meet his eyes. “Some other time, Mason.”

  He wasn’t going to push her if she wasn’t ready to talk, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be there when she was ready. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replied, letting her hear his conviction.

  She got busy surveying the customers in the bar to avoid his concerned stare. “We’re swamped tonight. Better keep your eyes and ears open.”

  He nodded roughly. “Yeah, you got it.”

  A month had gone by already. Mason hadn’t heard any more about what had happened, other than Bryn had been taken by a god who was convinced she was the key to killing Odin. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait to hear the whole story. Whatever it was, it had broken something inside her.

  And that broke something in him. Mason would have killed for Bryn. He should have been looking out for her, but it had always been the other way around. She’d given him a job when he’d really needed one. Mason had known she was different right from the start. Apart from her stunning looks, and the golden tattoo on her neck, she gave off an almost palpable vibe of “otherness”.

  Mason returned to watching men come in, carefully looking them over before allowing them access to the higher levels of the club
. If they weren’t wearing the right thing, or hadn’t made a prior booking to be there, he refused them entry. The Eye could afford to be that exclusive.

  He was just letting the last group past him when he felt a deep thrum in his blood; the deep thrum that was Korvain, calling him, searching him out. Mason couldn’t feel it all the time—only when Korvain was actively looking for him. He turned his head just as the Mare pushed into the club from behind the “Staff Only” door. Even though Mason was technically Korvain’s boss, he knew who was top dog and when to follow orders. Mason hadn’t survived the marines without learning that important lesson.

  Fear instantly gripped Mason, a shiver traveling down his spine, setting his fight-or-flight instincts on high alert. As the guy prowled into the room, humans and gods scattered, trying to get as far away from him as possible. Mason knew what he was—a Shadow Walker, and also the last full-blooded Mare in existence. The bastard was powerful. Mason had tasted that in his blood when he’d taken a blood oath and bound himself to the male. Hell, he could taste it even now as if it hung in the air.

  “Mason,” Korvain rumbled, his dark brows drawing down over shadow-filled eyes as he glowered at those who stared. Mason looked up and noticed the three-foot exclusion zone Korvain had inadvertently created.

  “What’s up?” Mason asked, meeting the guy’s eyes. Mason liked the Mare, mainly because he had Bryn’s back. They were definitely on the same team when it came to protecting that Valkyrie.

  Korvain moved his body closer to Mason, herding him toward the wall, blocking him from view and shielding their conversation. “I just need to reiterate the fact that you need to keep what you know locked down. Nobody can find out what you know. Feel me?”

  Mason swallowed. Korvain would kill him if he ever breathed a word about the other world of gods and goddesses. “I told you before I wouldn’t. Besides, I thought our blood oath took care of that?”

  Korvain smiled unpleasantly, baring his fangs. Up close, they looked at least two inches long, gleaming despite the low light. “That blood oath isn’t a gag order.”