by Donna Grant
Darcy clamped her lips tight when she began to admit that she did want them. What the hell was wrong with her? She knew they were dangerous. Why did her body continue to ache for them?
Magic. The realization hit her suddenly. They were using magic. That was the only explanation.
She looked closer at them and sucked in a breath when she saw their red eyes. Red eyes? That wasn’t possible. Was it?
“Leave me alone,” she said in a breathless voice.
In her mind she screamed it. Why hadn’t it come out more forcefully? Why wasn’t she able to have more strength to shove their hands off her as they continued to touch her? Why did she crave their touch as if it were life itself?
“We can’t do that,” one of them said, the Irish brogue deep. “You’re ours now.”
Darcy sank into her mind. It was a trick she’d learned as a child when she needed her magic, but whatever the beings were doing to her, it was making it difficult for her to think of anything other than removing her clothes to make it easier for them to touch her.
She managed to drag up some of her magic. She held out her hands and directed it at all five of them. The men stumbled backward, their arms up to block the assault. It gave her the time she needed to run.
She pumped her arms, running as fast as she could along the hilly, winding streets. But she didn’t get far before she was tackled to the ground.
“We could’ve played nice,” said an angry voice in her ear.
He flipped her onto her back and straddled her. Darcy didn’t scream or panic. Anger flooded her, helping to push away whatever stifled her magic and made her wanton. She called to every ounce of magic within her and let it build and build. The men were physically too strong for her. She would have to fight them with magic.
They laughed when she threw magic at the man atop her, which took her aback. The fact they weren’t shocked at her use of it told her they knew all about her.
Suddenly, the man was thrown off her. Darcy looked around, but saw nothing. She rose up on her elbows to see the man climbing to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. His four comrades were looking up to the sky nervously.
A huge, dark shape descended from the sky, vanishing quickly. Along with one of her attackers. Darcy was afraid to move and be taken as well. She remained still, her chest heaving.
Another shape formed out of the dark sky. She could only stare openmouthed at the dragon coming right for her.
Just before he touched down, the dragon shifted, taking the form of a man—a man that left her breathless and awestruck.
There was no denying she was looking at a Dragon King.
He stood naked, his hands at his sides while his gaze was riveted on the men who accosted her. The shadows kept much of him out of sight, but the streetlamps shed enough light on the hard sinew of his body that she wanted to see more.
His lips peeled back in a snarl as he fought the four remaining men. He moved quickly, as if it were as effortless as breathing.
The men began to throw huge bubbles of magic at the Dragon King. He dodged many of them. The few that hit him barely made an impact other than to infuriate him, if his bared teeth were any indication.
The man—or whatever he was—who had stopped her in the pub was struck down with lethal force by the Dragon King. Darcy almost cheered, but it got lodged in her throat when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.
Had she not turned right then, Darcy would never have seen the second dragon swoop from the sky and wrap its talons around another of the men before flying away, crushing him.
That left just two of her attackers. They and the Dragon King circled each other on the street.
“She’s ours,” one of the red-eyed men said.
The Dragon King merely raised a brow. “Think again, Dark.”
More globes of magic flew from the two Dark, but the Dragon King was too fast. He came up behind one of the Dark and ripped out his spinal column. The same instant the dragon grabbed the other. Both Dark fell lifeless to the ground a moment later.
Darcy hadn’t moved a muscle in the few minutes that had passed. The need that had assaulted her earlier with the Dark was now gone. But she wasn’t alone.
The Dragon King’s gaze turned to her. Darcy watched him standing in the glow of the streetlight, completely mesmerized by the dragon tat that ran from the King’s right shoulder, under his armpit, and down his side to the top of his right thigh.
The dragon’s head was at the front of the man’s shoulder and had his mouth open as if on a roar. He was rearing with his wings up and out. It was his long tail that stopped at the King’s thigh.
The King glistened with sweat that made his muscles gleam in the light. Darcy had the absurd notion to run her hands all over his body, learning the feel of his hard muscles and warm skin.
Her gaze traveled down his wide chest to his washboard stomach and narrow waist. She bit her lip when she saw his cock. His rod twitched, and her eyes jerked to his face.
Out of nowhere, a pair of jeans came sailing through the air. The King caught them without looking and tugged them on. Once the pants were fastened, he walked barefoot to her and held out his hand.
“You’ve no idea how close you came to death. Again.”
She frowned. “Again? You make it sound like this wasn’t the first time those creeps came after me.”
“It isna,” he said.
Darcy stared at his large hand. He held it palm up, and despite herself, she wanted to read his palm. Instead, she slid her hand in his.
His long fingers curled gently, firmly around hers before he tugged her up. She stood staring up at a face she knew she had never seen before, but the rugged planes looked familiar. As did his square chin and hard jaw, his intense cobalt eyes, and the thick lashes. She knew his sinfully full lips and his warmth.
Just as she did his short blond hair that was disheveled from the fight. The full waves made her itch to sink her hands into the strands.
She knew she hadn’t released his hand, but for the life of her, she couldn’t. She enjoyed the feel of his strength, his comfort.
He was watching her as intently as she watched him. Darcy wondered what he thought of her frizzy hair and pale complexion. And she couldn’t forget the freckles across her nose.
“You called those men Dark,” she said, hating her hoarse voice.
He glanced at the dead men. “They’re Dark Fae.”
Thankfully, her knees held her. “Fae,” she repeated since she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“She took that rather well, I think,” said a deep voice from the shadows to her right.
The King’s forehead furrowed before he glared into the shadows. He didn’t utter a word, but there was no need. He was perturbed that they had been interrupted. As was she.
Darcy looked back at him to see his gaze lowered to their clasped hands. Hers looked so small within his. He loosened his fingers, and she reluctantly withdrew her hand. She let it fall to her side and took a step back. The night had given her a swift kick in the butt.
She needed her mental armor back in place, and thankfully it didn’t take her long to find it. “Of course I took it well.”
What better way to face a situation like this than to lie? She would laugh at her pluck, if the circumstances weren’t so dire.
“I know you’re Dragon Kings,” she said to the one before her.
His cobalt gaze bore into hers. Silence stretched as he studied her. “You know that because you helped Ulrik.”
“Why do I have the feeling you didn’t just happen to be here?”
“Because we were no’,” came the voice from the shadows.
“Thorn,” the King said, though no heat was in his voice. “Enough.”
Darcy lifted her chin. “Is that a nickname because he’s apparently a thorn in your side?”
“It’s my bloody real name,” came the terse reply.
The King’s lips softened just a fraction, but no
t nearly enough to call it a smile.
“And your name?” she asked him.
There was a long pause before he said, “Warrick.”
“Warrick,” she repeated, letting it roll off her tongue. After watching him in battle with the Dark Fae, the name suited him to perfection. “Thank you both for helping me with the Dark.”
Thorn made a sound at the back of his throat. “Doona go thinking that’s the last you’ve seen of them.”
“Please come out so I can see your face,” Darcy said.
There was a smile in Thorn’s voice when he said, “I gave my jeans to Warrick. I’m no’ shy, lass, but I doona want to embarrass Warrick.”
A growl rose up from Warrick as he faced the shadows, his nostrils flaring. Darcy ducked her head to hide her own laughter when she heard Thorn chuckling.
She couldn’t quite manage to hide her smile when Warrick turned back to her. “I’m Darcy.”
“It’s late, and there may be more Dark. It might be best if we get you home,” Warrick said.
She looked around at the dead Fae. If the Kings weren’t here by accident, that meant they were watching her. She was sure they knew her name as well.
As much as she didn’t like being followed, she was immensely grateful that the Kings had been there to stop the Dark. “What happens with them?” she asked, pointing to the Dark that littered the street.
“I’ll take care of them once you’re gone,” Thorn said.
Warrick bowed his head. “And I’ll walk you home.”
Darcy turned toward the direction of her flat, a bubble of something causing her stomach to flutter. It couldn’t be because of the quiet, brooding giant of a man with blond hair and blue eyes beside her.
They walked a little while before she asked, “Why were you here?”
“You.”
One word. She rolled her eyes. “I figured that one out. Is it because I helped Ulrik get some of his magic back?”
“Did you ever stop to wonder why we bound his magic?”
“Yes.”
He shot her a glance as they walked. “And you helped him anyway?”
“Yes. Are the Dark after me because I aided Ulrik?”
There was a long pause before Warrick lifted a thick shoulder in a shrug. “The Dark have your scent now, Druid. They’ll keep coming for you.”
“Until I’m dead?”
“They’ll take you to their realm and use your body, draining you of your soul.”
Well, hell. That sounded pretty damn awful. “I can’t let that happen.”
Warrick stopped and turned to her. “Nay. We can no’.”
CHAPTER
SIX
Rhi thought by going with Balladyn that it would calm some of the turmoil within her. Instead, everything ratcheted up to the nth degree.
Balladyn’s hold on her hand was firm. If she wanted her hand back, she was going to have to pull it loose—and probably use a bit of magic in the process.
Neither spoke as they walked to a Fae doorway a few hundred yards from the streets of Pompeii where he’d found her. Rhi had no idea where he was taking her, and it didn’t matter. She knew that she could take care of herself against anyone—and anything.
That realization made her look at things differently. It wasn’t that she wanted anyone to know how much power she had. In fact, she would rather keep it to herself. Rhys knew, but that was different. Rhys would never tell anyone. Well, except perhaps Lily, but Lily wouldn’t repeat anything.
Rhi kept pace with Balladyn as they stepped through the doorway and arrived in Ireland. She almost rolled her eyes. Of course he would want her back in Ireland. It was a stronghold of the Fae, a mistake the Dragon Kings allowed to happen.
Stupid, Constantine. So stupid.
Rhi stopped her inner dialogue. There was no way she was going to think about that arrogant douche canoe. Let him figure a way out for the perfect Dragon Kings in this crater of a mess they were in.
To her surprise, Balladyn didn’t remain in Ireland. He turned her to the left and immediately took her through another doorway. This time when she stepped through, her feet sank into sand.
Rhi blinked against the blinding sun. With just a thought, she had her favorite pair of Maui Jim sunglasses in place and looked at the mountains of sand around her. She then turned her head to Balladyn.
He looked out over the sand, a small, confident smile in place.
Another douche.
What was it with men? She didn’t bother even trying to come up with an answer—because there wasn’t one. Males were males, no matter what race they were.
“I knew you’d come to me,” Balladyn said. He swiveled his head to her, his smile growing. “I knew it was just a matter of time.”
For a moment, Rhi thought she was looking at the Balladyn who had been by her side for centuries. Then she stared into his red eyes and remembered. He was Dark.
He’d tortured her, tormented her. She’d suffered through unimaginable, unspeakable pain by his hand while he gloated during all of it.
He blamed her for his turning Dark.
And lest she forget, he wanted revenge.
Rhi glanced at their hands. His fingers tightened, as if he knew she wanted to yank away from him. She tucked her hair behind her ear with her free hand and faced the desert.
Balladyn had gotten some of his revenge, but he didn’t yet comprehend that she wasn’t Dark. Rhi had doubts about her being Dark up until that moment. She was Light, and not even the tide of darkness within her was going to change that.
“Do you have nothing to say?” he asked.
Rhi shrugged, her gaze following the rolling hills of sand against the stark blue sky. “What do you want me to say? I didn’t come to you. You found me.”
“You took my hand.”
His voice had a hard edge now. Rhi often let her emotions rule her decisions, but for once, there was no anger or fear or confusion. She knew exactly what she had to do.
Rhi shifted so that she faced him. “I did.”
“You’re mine now.”
A flash of anger began, but she hastily stamped it out. “I belong only to myself.”
Balladyn’s red eyes narrowed. He released her and ran his hand down his face, over his hollowed cheeks to the hard line of his jaw. At his temple, a muscle ticked, indicating that he was growing upset.
Rhi didn’t bother to say more. She let her statement sink into Balladyn’s head while she waited for whatever he would say next.
His look was hard as he stared at her. “There is darkness within you. I feel it.”
“There is darkness within every creature, just as there is light. You brought more darkness out in me, but I didn’t give in to it.”
“You just need more time with me.”
Rhi held up a hand when he took a step closer, halting him. She cut him a look as she hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans. “Hold up with the crazy. You wanted revenge for what happened to you. Guess what, wanker? You got what you wanted.”
“No.” He shook his head from side to side. “If I had what I wanted, your eyes would be red and there would be silver in your hair. And … you would be in my bed.”
Usaeil had warned her, but Rhi hadn’t believed the queen. Balladyn had taken the place of her brother when hers had died. Sure Balladyn was gorgeous, but she’d never thought of him that way.
“You changed me,” she argued. “Regardless of what you think, your revenge was thorough.”
“Not nearly thorough enough.”
“What do you want? To hurt me? You’ve already done that.”
“I did want to hurt you. Now…” He shrugged, a frown marring his brow. “Now, I just want you.”
Rhi didn’t move when he closed the distance between them and brought a hand up to her face. His touch was light, his caress gentle as his thumb stroked her cheek.
“All I’ve thought about for years was you, pet,” he whispered. “I loved you before I went off to wa
r with your brother. I was going to tell you when I returned, but you took his death too hard. Then you met—”
“Don’t you dare say his name,” she ordered.
Balladyn’s gaze lowered to her mouth for a moment. “It killed me to see you with that dragon. The Dragon King never deserved your love. Not then. Especially not now.”
“He never tortured me.”
“Really?” Balladyn asked. “Isn’t seeing him every time you go to Dreagan torture? Isn’t knowing he’s there, but he chose to let you go torture?”
How she hated when Balladyn was right. Rhi swallowed as his head dipped a fraction. She’d gone millennia without a kiss, and then, in less than two days, she’d kissed two men with a third about to be added.
“Choose me, Rhi,” Balladyn urged in a soft voice. “I can give you everything you need. I’ll never stop loving you. I’ll always be here for you, and I’ll never hurt you again.”
His thumb was at her bottom lip, slowly tracing it. She blinked, just noticing that sometime while he had been talking that he had removed her sunglasses. They were perched atop her head.
Rhi looked into his red eyes. The love was visible there, though it seemed odd that a Dark could love. That emotion was part of the light, not the darkness within a person.
“Choose me,” he said again as his other hand came up to cup her face.
Then his lips were on hers, tenderly nipping at her mouth until she opened for him. Then the gentleness vanished. He held her tight, pressing her body against his from shoulder to hip.
He kissed her as if there were no tomorrow, as if he were releasing thousands of years of desire.
And to her shock, she wasn’t unmoved.
There was a spark of … something … that flared to life within her. It scared her so badly, that she abruptly ended the kiss.
“I love you,” Balladyn said.
He took a step back and dropped his arms to his sides. There was a sad smile as he took another step away. “I’ll not force you to come with me, pet. That choice has to be yours. You broke the only chains that I knew would hold you.”
