Dark Desire: Dark Series 2

by Lauren Dawes

  Embarrassed, Eir shrugged. “It was a surprise to me, too,” she admitted. Looking up to gauge Mist’s reaction, she asked, “What do you think about that?”

  The other Valkyrie put her pen down and leaned a hip against the bar. “Honestly?” Eir nodded. “I think our world has changed. And if you like the guy, then I think you should go for it. I mean, look at Bryn and Korvain. She’s a Valkyrie and he’s a Mare. They really shouldn’t even like each other, but they do. So, I think if you like Mason and he makes you happy, you should definitely pursue this.” She sighed. “A lot of people search for a long time to find a person they like enough to spend extended periods of time with.”

  Looking down at her hands laced together on top of the bar, Eir said, “I like him. He seems like a decent man.”

  “He is.” Reaching out, Mist rested her hand on top of Eir’s. “You deserve to be happy. You’ve had a pretty tough time this last month, and if Mason is the man to do that, well, I’m all for it.”

  The door to the hallway swung open then. Eir turned her head in the direction of the doorway, her breath catching in her throat. Mason stood there with a lazy smile on his perfect lips. Dressed in a pair of dark jeans and white button-down shirt, he looked … delectable.

  “Hungry?” he asked with his cocky grin still in place.

  “Famished,” she replied without thinking. Mist laughed, causing Eir to blush furiously.

  Mason chuckled. “I’d better get you to lunch then.”

  Sliding from the bar stool, Eir said goodbye to Mist.

  “You look lovely,” Mason murmured as she walked towards him. Looking down at her midnight blue wrap dress and ballet flats, Eir blushed again, then self-consciously met his warm hazel eyes.

  “Thank you.” Her reply was quiet and unsure. She had never been good at accepting compliments.

  Mason put a warm hand at the small of her back, leading her through the rear door of the club and towards his car, parked beside Bryn’s BMW. After opening the car door and waiting until she had slid inside, he came around the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Eir clasped her hands together in her lap, nervous. “Which restaurant are we going to?”

  Mason started the car and reversed from the spot before he answered her. “There’s a new sushi place that’s opened up in Chestnut Hill.” His easy expression suddenly melted away. “You do like Japanese food, don’t you?” he asked, looking concerned. “If you don’t, we can go somewhere else. Or we could—”

  Reaching over, Eir placed her hand on his forearm. “Mason, sushi is fine … I’ve actually never tried it before.”

  He blew out a relieved breath and the smile that split his face in two warmed the cold hollow in Eir’s chest. “You’ll love this place then.”

  They drove the Boston city streets in companionable silence until Mason pulled into a parking space on the street. “The restaurant is another block away, but I doubt I could get a parking spot any closer. I could drop you off at the front if you’d rather not walk, though,” he said, that look of worry washing over his features again, and Eir realized he was nervous.

  Well, at least she wasn’t the only one.

  “Mason, it’s fine. We can walk there.”

  Taking his hand in hers, she tried to draw some of his anxiety away.

  He grunted, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “You’re doing that warm palm thing, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m doing that warm palm thing. Is it helping?”

  Placing his hand over hers, he said, “Yeah. I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this.” She noticed a flush creeping up his neck before he added, “Maybe it’s just because it’s you.”

  The restaurant was modern, but still warm and inviting, and Eir noticed many couples having romantic lunches together, their hands touching, their eyes full of heated lust. The tables were set low to the ground, and the diners sat on mats on the floor.

  The hostess greeted them with a friendly smile, then led them all the way across the room, stopping at an opaque screen. She slid open the door, revealing a room completely different from the rest of the restaurant. Instead of the muted palette of creams and peaches, the walls were painted a deep shade of red.

  “Your server will be along to get your drink orders shortly,” the hostess said, stepping aside. Mason nudged Eir inside gently, stepping in close behind her. The heat of his body against her back was heavenly, and her eyes shuddered closed for just a minute.

  Mason led her to a seat on the right, taking her hand while she lowered herself down onto the cushion. After she was comfortable, Mason walked around the low table and took his place opposite her. The low light exaggerated the planes of his face, his hazel eyes black in the dimness.

  The door slid open then and a young man stepped into the room. “Good afternoon,” he said in a smooth and cultured voice. “What can I get you both to drink?”

  Mason said, “I’ll take an Asahi and …” he looked expectantly at Eir.

  “The same.”

  “Excellent,” the server replied. “I’ll give you a few more moments to look over the menu.”

  The gentle thud of the sliding door indicated his departure. Eir dropped her eyes to the menu sitting on the table in front of her. Everything looked so foreign to her. She looked up nervously at Mason.

  “You’d better order for me.”

  “No problem. Is there anything you don’t like?”

  “No, I’m pretty adventurous.”

  The server returned with two bottles of beer with white labels and placed them on the table, along with two, chilled tall glasses.

  “Are you ready to order?”

  “Yes,” Mason said, and rattled off a string of Japanese-sounding words which Eir could only assume were dishes on the menu. The server dutifully wrote them down, then excused himself from the room.

  “What did you order?” she asked curiously, watching Mason fill her glass with beer.

  “A bit of everything. If you don’t like anything, I’ll eat it.”

  Reaching out, Eir took the glass in her hand and took a sip. She didn’t normally drink beer, finding the Americans’ version of the drink too strange for her taste, but she found she liked this one.

  Placing her glass back down, she leaned her elbows on the table.

  “Tell me something I don’t know about you, Mason.”

  He gave her a lazy grin. “There’s not much to tell, really.”

  “Well, where did you grow up?”

  “California, but my parents moved my brother and I to the east coast when I was ten and he was eight.”

  “What did your parents do?”

  “My mother was a secretary and my dad did a million different jobs. He was in construction for a while, worked at a bar, mechanic, dock worker …” He shrugged. “All sorts.”

  “And you joined the marines?”

  Mason’s shoulders stiffened. “When I was eighteen, I joined. There was nothing else I wanted to do. Ever since I was a kid, I was always playing soldiers and pretending I was going into battle.” He took a mouthful of beer.

  Eir smiled. “And your brother? What did he do before …?”

  “Hunter—that was his name—was always following in my shadow when we were growing up. He looked up to me, and I think that’s why he also joined up when he turned eighteen. I’d already been in for two years, so I could keep an eye on him just like I did when we were growing up.”

  “I wish I could have met him.” Reaching over, Eir placed her hand on Mason’s arm, but before she could take away his pain, Mason pulled his arm free, pretending to reach for his glass once more.

  Eir clasped her hands together in her lap. She didn’t want Mason to be upset. She didn’t like to see that sadness in his eyes, to feel it pulse through his veins.

  “I’m sorry. I just … I just …” He looked up, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Talking about Hunter still hurts.”

  Eir’s heart bled for him. What
she wouldn’t have done to take away his pain.

  She was still trying to find the right words to comfort him when a series of servers suddenly whisked into the room, covering the table with plate after plate until there was hardly any room left.

  As the servers left, Eir stared wide-eyed at all the food.

  “Try this one first,” Mason said.

  “What is it?”

  “Gyoza—deep-fried dumpling. Try it.”

  Picking up her chopsticks, Eir held them like Mason was and picked up the small parcel of food. Bringing it to her mouth, she bit into the little half-moon-shaped pastry. The crunchy outer casing gave way to a deliciously soft filling of meat and vegetables. Eir couldn’t contain the moan erupting from her lips as she chewed and swallowed. Mason watched her, captivated, as she ate.

  When she had taken her last bite, she wiped her mouth. “Aren’t you going to have some?”

  He grinned at her, reaching over to the gyoza plate with his chopsticks and picking one up. He popped it in his mouth and chewed, his eyes never leaving hers.

  The rest of their lunch went in much the same way. Mason would suggest something, Eir would try it and find that she liked it—except for something called tsubugai kimuchi, which Mason told her, after she’d eaten it, was sea snail with a spicy Korean sauce.

  Four bottles of beer and two very full stomachs later, Mason paid the bill and led Eir from the restaurant by the hand. Once outside, the spell of their hour and a half together was broken. This was the real world.

  He pulled her into him, his hands finding her waist as if they were always meant to be there. “I had a really good time,” he said, his eyes dropping down to her mouth. Eir chewed her bottom lip nervously.

  “Me too.”

  Tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, Mason added, “We should do it again.”

  “We should. Look, Mason, I’m—”

  Her phone rang in her bag, interrupting her. Mason released her so she could pull it from her bag. With her eyes on him, she answered the call.

  “Yes?”

  “Eir? It’s Mark. I didn’t know who else to call.” He sounded harried and stressed.

  “Mark, just calm down.”

  At the sound of Mark’s name, Mason’s eyes narrowed, his nostrils flaring. She touched his cheek gently and turned around.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Mr. Adamsen. He’s … he’s not doing so well. Please, Eir, I need you to see him.”

  “Mark, surely there’s someone else there, something the doctors can do.”

  “Please, Eir.”

  She couldn’t say no to someone in need. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in a half an hour.”

  “Please. Hurry.”

  The line went dead and Eir turned back around. The look on Mason’s face made her stomach drop to her feet.

  “Who was that?” he asked seriously.

  “Mark. Another nurse I work with sometimes. He’s having a small crisis with one of his patients and needs my help.”

  “And this Mark guy …?” Mason pressed. Stepping closer, he cupped one hand possessively behind her neck, his thumb tracking over her pulse on the side of her throat.

  “Is just a friend,” she said with a smile. “You’re cute when you’re jealous,” she added.

  “I’m not jealous,” he sniffed.

  Eir leaned in and pressed her lips to his stubble-covered cheek. “Can you take me to the hospital?”

  *

  Eir couldn’t stop her fingers drumming silently on the top of her thigh. The traffic was unbearably slow, and Mason got caught at every red light.

  “Are you all right?” Mason asked, pulling to yet another stop.

  “I’m fine … it’s just …”

  “What is it?” he asked, taking one hand off the wheel and resting it on Eir’s knee. She looked back out the window.

  “I’m worried about Mark.”

  In the reflection, she saw Mason’s brow shoot up. “What did he say to you exactly?”

  “It wasn’t what he said—it was more his tone. He sounded so … desperate.”

  “I’m sure whatever it is, you’ll be able to help.”

  When they pulled into the staff car park at Mass Gen, Eir looked up at the building, a feeling of trepidation weighing heavily on her.

  “Maybe I should come in with you,” Mason muttered.

  “No, it’s fine. I mean, what could possibly happen to me here? I’m perfectly safe.”

  “Still … how long do you think you’ll be?”

  “I’m not sure. An hour? Maybe two?”

  Checking his watch, Mason said, “It’s three o’clock now. How about I come back in an hour, and if you’re going to be any longer, you can give me a call before then to let me know?”

  Eir popped open the door. “That sounds good.” Collecting her bag, she got out.

  The passenger window wound down after Eir slammed the door, and Mason called out, “Everything will be okay, Eir. I know it.”

  She turned to wave goodbye before heading towards the entrance, anxiety gnawing at her gut.

  Not two steps into reception, she found Mark there waiting. He took Eir’s elbow firmly and steered her toward the elevators. He jabbed at the elevator button, his grip dimpling her skin.

  “Mark, tell me what’s wrong.”

  His eyes darted to hers, but he didn’t answer her until they were safely inside the elevator. She noticed then that his skin was a little paler than normal. She placed a hand on his forearm, letting herself feel what Mark was feeling.

  Anxiety.

  Fear.

  Sorrow.

  And all so potent. Pulling free from his grip, she stepped away from him.

  “Mark, tell me what’s happened.”

  He looked pained as he spoke. “It’s Mr. Adamsen. He’s … dying.”

  This news didn’t surprise her.

  “He was due to start his treatment on Monday.”

  “All right, but I’m not sure why I’m needed. You know there’s nothing I can do. If it’s fatal, it’s fatal.”

  The elevator doors opened and Mark hustled her down the hallway towards oncology. When she stepped into the room, it was filled with people she had never seen before.

  An older woman sat in a chair beside the bed, clutching Mr. Adamsen’s hand. Another younger woman stood behind her, her hands resting on the older woman’s shoulders.

  A younger-looking version of Mr. Adamsen stepped forward and Eir surmised he was his son. “Who are you?” he asked, spitting the question at her, a look of hatred in his eyes.

  “Mr. Adamsen, my name’s Eir. I’m one of the nurses here at Mass Gen. Mark has asked me to come in and see your father.”

  Mr. Adamsen’s eyes cut dangerously to Mark. “How is she going to help? Is she going to somehow make that … that damn cancer strangling his body disappear?”

  “Mr. Adamsen, please,” Eir started. “I’ve been consulted about your father’s treatment before, so Mark asked me to come down.”

  “Can you cure his cancer?” he asked venomously. Eir tried not to take his words to heart. He was angry and frustrated and he was lashing out at anyone unfortunate enough to be in his path.

  “No, sir, but—”

  “Then there’s no reason for you to be here.” He stalked away, running his hands through his hair.

  “Brian, please calm down. Think of your heart,” the younger of the two women said, her pained expression telling Eir she had to be his wife. Mr. Adamsen’s son looked up at the woman and touched her cheek gently.

  “I’m sorry, Melody. I just …” His eyes darted to his father on the bed, and he ran his hand through his hair again. “I feel so damn helpless.”

  “I know you do, my love. But we have to let the doctors do what they do best and heal him.” Melody’s voice was steady and calm, and seemed to be having the desired effect on Brian’s nerves.

  “Can you take his father’s pain away?” M
ark asked into Eir’s ear. She shivered at his close proximity, and for the first time his attention made her truly uncomfortable. She focused on Brian, silently asking for permission to approach his father. After a long, hard glare, he nodded slightly before lowering himself down into the only other free chair in the room.

  Eir approached the bed cautiously, her eyes taking in the almost imperceptible rise and fall of the old man’s fragile chest. It had barely been a day and a half since she’d last seen Mr. Adamsen, but he had deteriorated to a point where she wasn’t sure what she could do for him anymore.

  Flexing her hands into fists a few times, she reached out and pulled the sheet down a little and placed her hands on his chest. The immediate rush of pain pushed all the air from her lungs. She gasped, sucking in large gulps of air and trying to force her healing energy into him …

  But it didn’t work.

  It seemed to be bouncing right back at her. His body was rejecting it. She tried again, even though she knew it wouldn’t work. She couldn’t force anyone to heal if their body wasn’t willing to accept it.

  Pulling back, she repositioned the sheet with shaking hands and stepped back from the bed.

  “He’s too far gone,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

  The shrill bark of alarms suddenly filled the room. Mark rushed towards the bed, checking the monitors and looking at Eir frantically. Another nurse bustled into the small room, shouldering past Eir forcefully. Moving to the wall to stay out of the way, Eir watched as two doctors and another nurse ran into the room.

  Brian jumped up from his chair and marched towards to Eir. “What did you do to him?” he demanded, taking her forcefully by the arm.

  “Brian, what are you doing?” Melody cried, her attention torn between her husband’s actions and those of the doctors.

  A heartbeat later, Brian released his fingers reluctantly, his eyes burning into Eir. Eir stepped away from him, rubbing at the red marks on her arm and trying to get her breathing back under control.

  “Eir, can you please take his family out?” Mark asked from near the monitors, obviously unaware of the altercation that had just taken place.

  Brian’s face reddened. “I’m not going anywhere!” he yelled, rounding on Mark and moving to stand by his father’s bed. Eir’s eyes darted to Mark, looking for guidance.