Soul Scorched

by Donna Grant

  Mikkel leaned back and took a sip of wine. Once he’d replaced the glass on the table, he turned to Ulrik. “I want you to end my problem. For good.”

  Ulrik felt the weight of Mikkel’s stare. His uncle thought he had him by the balls. Just one more instance that Mikkel underestimated him.

  He stood and adjusted his suit jacket. “Consider it done.”

  * * *

  Taraeth rotated his left shoulder. There was just a stump left after Denae had used a Fae sword and chopped off his arm. Taraeth snorted. A Fae sword. The sword belonged to Rhi.

  The same Rhi who Balladyn had captured and attempted to turn Dark. Though Balladyn assured him that Rhi would come to them and become Dark, Taraeth had his doubts.

  Rhi was stronger than Balladyn realized. And she still held the love of a Dragon King within her.

  The one crucial mistake the Dark made in coming to Earth was in misjudging the Kings. None of the Dark, especially the idiot who had led the Dark into war with the Kings, realized how formidable they were. Every Fae—Dark and Light—assumed their magic was even with the Kings’ or greater. How wrong they had been.

  The Fae learned their lesson well. It was one of the reasons once Taraeth took over as king that he didn’t attack the Dragon Kings.

  They were a hindrance. More than that, he’d had to watch his back since he aligned with one and helped another on occasion.

  His intention had been to refuse Ulrik. Until he met with him. It only took one look for Taraeth to see the hate Ulrik had for the Kings. If there was one who could bring down the Dragon Kings—it was Ulrik.

  There was a knock on the steel doors of his private chamber. Taraeth walked to the door and opened it to find one of his guards.

  “Ulrik is here to see you,” replied the Dark.

  Taraeth smiled and walked from his chamber. He turned the corner to a corridor where he spotted Ulrik standing in front of a painting of the capital city of the Fae realm.

  “Every time you come, you stare at that painting,” Taraeth said as he stopped beside him.

  Ulrik lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I find it hard to believe with everything I know about the Fae that both the Light and Dark once lived together.”

  “That was a very long time ago.”

  Ulrik turned away from the picture and faced Taraeth. “You doona seemed surprised that I’m here.”

  Taraeth chuckled. “I’m never surprised by your visits, as infrequent as they are. You come to me with unusual requests that only further both of our interests. PureGems has given us a glut of humans with which to satisfy us.”

  “Ah, but I wasna the only one with my hand in PureGems, was I?”

  Taraeth had wondered how long it would take Ulrik to piece things together. “So, Mikkel finally came to you.”

  “How long have you known?” Ulrik’s face was completely devoid of emotion, just as his voice was.

  It was enough to make Taraeth wary. Ulrik might have his magic bound by the other Dragon Kings, but as Ulrik proved—things could change. “Long enough.”

  “What is your reasoning in sending a Dark to seduce my uncle?”

  Taraeth hadn’t seen that coming. He might not want to like Ulrik, but it was hard not to when he was as devious as a Dark. “Her glamour is too good. There’s no way you saw through her magic, nor would she tell you who she is.”

  “I recognized her from your court.”

  At least Taraeth knew that Ulrik couldn’t see through glamour like Kiril could. Damn Dragon Kings and their magic.

  Then Ulrik’s comment registered. In the thousands of millennia since the Fae came to Earth, Ulrik had been at court only a half dozen times. That made Taraeth realize that there were few things Ulrik didn’t see, and even fewer that he forgot. It would behoove Taraeth to remember that.

  “Why did you send her to Mikkel?” Ulrik asked again.

  “I wanted to see if your uncle could spot one of my best.”

  “Liar.”

  It was said without heat, but a hardness came into Ulrik’s golden eyes. Taraeth tried another approach. “He gave me a promise, and then didn’t fulfill it.”

  Ulrik turned on his heel and started walking away.

  Taraeth frowned. “Ulrik?”

  But the Dragon King didn’t stop. Taraeth wasn’t sure if Ulrik was going to alert his uncle or not. Either way the female needed to be warned.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Darcy jumped at the sound that came from the conservatory. She got to her feet, her heart pumping wildly. Then a tall form came into sight.

  “Warrick,” she whispered.

  Her smiled died before it got going when she let her gaze run over him. Blood splattered his shirt, or what was left of it. It was torn and ripped so that it barely hung on his shoulders.

  His gaze was direct, unblinking as he stared at her as if he hadn’t just been in a battle with the Dark Fae.

  Without thinking, she ran to him looking for wounds. She gently moved aside his still wet shirt in case there was a wound beneath, but all she saw was skin and the black and red ink of the tat.

  Then she recalled what he was and his immortality.

  Darcy dropped her arms and met his cobalt gaze as she remembered the fear that had consumed her not that long ago. “They surrounded you, and then I couldn’t see you.”

  “The fight wouldna have lasted that long had I been in dragon form,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “I was scared out of my mind, and you make a joke?”

  “It isna a jest. In my real form, I could do much more damage.”

  She shuddered, recalling Ulrik’s memories and the sheer size of some of the dragons. She turned away, embarrassed for letting her emotions get the better of her. “Of course. I forgot.”

  “Were you worried for me, lass?”

  She halted and looked over her shoulder at his softly spoken words. He actually sounded surprised. “Yes.”

  After everything she had said to him, he’d returned to the shop, to her. There was no anger in his visage or his voice, as if her harsh words never happened. He add risked his own life for her. Though he was immortal, there was no doubt the Dark could do damage to the Kings.

  “I’ll get you out of Edinburgh if that’s what you want,” Warrick said. “Damn Con and what he has planned for you.”

  Darcy was so taken aback that, for a moment, she couldn’t find any words. “I thought Con wanted information.”

  “If you give it, then Con will have it. But I willna keep you here with this many Dark just so Con can have some tidbit on Ulrik.”

  “Even if that tidbit might be the difference in Con winning over Ulrik?”

  Warrick rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and sighed.

  Just as Darcy had thought. “Ulrik is gaining in this war, isn’t he? You need information to win.”

  “There’s a chance that even if I get you to Skye, the Dark will attack you there.”

  She snorted. “They could try.”

  “You’ve never faced the Fae, Darcy. You doona know what it means to fight them. As powerful as Skye magic is, it isna enough to keep the Dark out.”

  Could Darcy bring such repulsive terrors to Skye? To her family? Just to save her own ass? No, she couldn’t. Regardless of how scared she was, this fiasco couldn’t reach Skye.

  “Can the Dark hurt you?”

  Warrick made a face, confusion marring his features. “They can no’ kill us.”

  “But they can hurt you?”

  “Aye.”

  It felt like someone kicked her in the stomach. “You were injured out there, weren’t you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  But he wasn’t before. All she had to do was look at his clothes to see how vicious the battle had been. He’d stood alone against the Dark while being bombarded with their magic.

  How many wounds had he sustained that healed before he came to see her? She inwardly cringed just thinking about it. And she was the o
ne who sent him out because of her anger.

  “So their magic can harm you?” she asked.

  “It can weaken us, and they can also make it to where we can no’ shift into dragon form for a while.”

  “What else?” She didn’t know how she knew there was more, but she did.

  Warrick blew out a harsh breath. “During the Fae Wars, they captured two Kings. Both lost their minds. We had to kill them.”

  Darcy’s legs grew weak. She grabbed hold of the edge of her desk to keep standing. The thought of Warrick being captured and tortured by the Dark made her sick to her stomach. That couldn’t happen to such a proud, powerful man. “I don’t want that to happen to you.”

  “It willna.”

  She stared at him, aghast. “I’m sure the two Kings they captured thought the same thing.”

  Warrick shrugged, as if it happened every day. “It’s part of being who we are.”

  “You and Thorn should leave before neither of you can.”

  It was his turn to look at her as if she’d sprouted wings. “You can no’ be serious.”

  “I am. I’m not going to bring this,” she said, gesturing to the front where the Dark were, “to Skye. I’m also not going to be responsible for the Dark taking you or Thorn.”

  “Remaining here is our decision. No’ yours.”

  Darcy shook her head in dismay. “You have no idea how it felt to watch them surround you as you stood out there alone against them. I thought you were gone!”

  Her words hung in the air for long moments as they stared at each other. Warrick’s cobalt eyes were bright, his gaze intense.

  All Darcy could think about was his kisses. The rest—Con, Ulrik, the Dark, the elders on Skye, and even her family—faded away.

  “I promised I would keep you safe. I’ll no’ leave until you are.”

  Darcy rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck as she planted her lips against his. He enfolded her in his embrace, holding her tight as he tilted his head and parted his lips. A low, deep moan rumbled his chest as they kissed. She slid her hands into wet hair and sank into the kiss until she was living, breathing him.

  It didn’t take long for the flames of desire to overtake them. Darcy was teased by the bits of his skin she felt against her from his torn shirt. She reached between them while they kissed and ripped his shirt in half. There was a smile on his lips as he let it fall to the floor.

  Their kisses became heated, frantic as they sought to get closer to the other. With a flick of his hand, he unbuttoned her jeans and had them unzipped. Then his hand was down her pants cupping her sex.

  Darcy gasped for breath as he kissed across her jaw and down her throat as his fingers began to lightly stroke her through her panties.

  She clung to him, her breath locked in her lungs at the force of desire that tightened low in her belly. His tongue was hot against her skin, his lips soft.

  In the next instant, his hand was gone, leaving her squeezing her legs together to hold back the tide of need that enveloped her.

  Her shirt was pulled over her head so quickly she had no idea what he was about. There was a ripping noise as her bra followed. Then he jerked her against his chest, skin to skin.

  She looked into his eyes and recognized the same longing, the same yearning she felt within herself. He bent, grabbing her bottom, and then stood. With her legs now wrapped around him, he claimed her mouth in a wild, fiery kiss.

  Darcy didn’t have long to wonder where he was going as he began to walk. He leaned over, holding her firmly with one hand as he swiped her desk with the other, clearing it of everything.

  He pressed her against the top of the desk, his thick arousal rubbing against her already swollen sex. He rocked against her several times before he pulled back, ending the kiss.

  “I need you, lass,” he whispered.

  Darcy opened her eyes to find him over her. “How fast can you get out of those clothes?”

  A grin started right before he straightened and kicked off his boots while pulling down his pants. Darcy wasn’t having as much luck with her own attire. She only got one boot off in the time it took him to get undressed.

  He yanked off her other boot. Then he grabbed her jeans and pulled. For him, they slid right off, leaving her in nothing but her black silk panties.

  His gaze wandered over her, beginning at her feet and working upward. As soon as his eyes landed on her breasts, her nipples hardened. He smiled in anticipation as he stepped between her legs once more.

  Then he lightly ran the pads of his fingers up her legs to the juncture of her thighs. At her sex, he paused and skimmed his hands over the silk. Then one hand moved upwards to her breasts where he circled one nipple with a finger before moving to the next.

  She hoped he would ease her suffering and touch her when his mouth came down on her other nipple. Darcy gasped, her back arching as he suckled the tiny peak hard. At the same time, one of his hands returned to her sex. He shoved aside the silk and mercilessly, ruthlessly teased her clit until she was shaking.

  The orgasm slammed into her unexpectedly, the force of it taking her breath. Her mouth opened on a silent scream as her body jerked and pleasure poured through her.

  Just when she thought it might end, Warrick knelt between her legs. Her body was still pulsing from the orgasm when he ripped her panties in two then slid his tongue over her clit.

  The pleasure was almost too much. She tried to scoot back, but Warrick had both hands on her hips, holding her in place. With his hot tongue teasing her flesh, she was soon writhing as another climax took her.

  Then he was over her, his big body pressing against her as the head of his arousal slid inside her. Darcy spread her hands over his chest as he slowly entered her, stretching her, filling her.

  She lifted her legs so that they wrapped around his waist. When he was fully seated, he bent and kissed her passionately.

  Darcy was floating on a cloud of pure passion. Everywhere he touched, Warrick was leaving a mark on her, forever changing her. She could feel it through her skin and muscle, through bone and into her soul.

  It was as if he was altering her. And she welcomed it.

  He pulled out of her and thrust. In and out he moved, fiercely, powerfully. Each time he went deeper, plunged harder.

  Soon sweat moistened their skin, allowing their bodies to glide against each other smoothly. Darcy tightened her legs, urging him onward.

  His hips jerked as he moved faster. Their breaths were ragged, their bodies in a rhythm as old as time. Her fingers gripped him as desire tightened low in her belly. Then he buried himself deep and stilled.

  To Darcy’s surprise, another orgasm swept her along with Warrick. It was just as powerful as the first, pulling her into a whirlwind of passion, pleasure, and … everything Warrick.

  It seemed like hours later when she was finally able to open her eyes. She found Warrick staring down at her with a look of awe that made her stomach clench and her lips tilt in a smile. He pulled out of her and lifted her in his arms until he had them situated on the floor. Darcy snuggled against him, using his chest as a pillow.

  Sex with Warrick was sublime. No one had taken her to such heights before, and she was certain no one but Warrick ever would again.

  Her life was in shambles, but she had something solid and real to hold onto.

  She had Warrick.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Warrick’s world had been turned upside down by the soft touch and passionate kisses of one obstinate, beautiful mortal.

  He stared at the ceiling, going over every moment of their lovemaking. The violent, uncontrollable need to claim her had pushed him as nothing else ever had. He almost regretted taking her so fast.

  Almost.

  A smile pulled at his lips as he remembered the fire in her fern green eyes. Her nails had scoured his skin, her legs had clamped tight even as she urged him faster with her heels.

  Her abandon, her unabashed need only d
rove him wild with longing. When it came to Darcy, the control Warrick always seemed to readily have evaporated. He was feral, untamed. Brutish.

  And she reveled in it.

  She didn’t care when he said awkward things. Warrick frowned as he realized he’d carried conversations with her more than he ever had with anyone else in such a short period of time.

  Her beauty might have first snagged his attention, but her sharp mind—and even sharper tongue—kept him on his toes and thoroughly engaged. She was as tempestuous as a stormy sea, and he wasn’t always sure how to navigate the waters. But he wanted to learn.

  Warrick felt her breath tickle his chest as she let out a sigh in her sleep. He wasn’t a fool. There had been too many Kings who had found mates lately for him to not consider Darcy was more than a quick tumble.

  There was just one hitch.

  Warrick didn’t want a mate. He didn’t want the worry, fear, or nervousness of having a woman mated to him. Regardless that she would be immortal, the simple fact was that she could die if he was killed. The war they were in was enough to bring that realization home.

  Not to mention, he saw how Kellan, Rhys, and the other mated Kings reacted when a threat came to Dreagan. It was natural for a King to protect. Add in the element of a mate, and things went haywire.

  Even if he did take a mate, she wouldn’t be safe from the Dark. The Kings might have spelled themselves never to feel any love for a human all these centuries, which is the only reason the Dark hadn’t taken a mate from a King. However, it was just a matter of time before they tried it.

  The wild idea of claiming Darcy as his mate to save her from the Dark halted instantly at that insight. The Dark wanted Darcy dead. Though he wished to know who’d sent the order for her death, Warrick was more concerned with keeping her alive.

  The Dark’s attack earlier proved that they were more than willing to let their war spill over into the human world.

  Warrick opened the telepathic link and called Con’s name. It didn’t take the King of Kings long to answer.

  “Do you have information on Ulrik?” Con asked.

  Warrick was surprised at the burst of anger that he felt. Was it the battle with the Dark? Was it having Darcy in his arms and her taste on his tongue? “In case you wanted to know, Darcy is still alive.”