Darkest Fire

by Tawny Taylor

  Rin should be glad to walk away from the life she had now. She couldn’t love it, right?

  Right. Rin was just doing a job because she had to.

  Like all the others, she’d found herself trapped in a life she despised. She didn’t know how to get herself out. Whether she’d admit it or not, she needed the kind of opportunity he was about to offer. Yes, she did.

  All he had to do to convince her to accept his proposal was tell her how great she’d have it with him—tell her about the money, the clothes, the shoes, the lifestyle—and she’d gladly kiss that life good-bye and scamper down the aisle with him.

  He just had to determine what her price was. No problem. Cash talked, he reminded himself.

  He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and lifted out a Grover Cleveland. Because he used cash only, for everything, he always had a pocket full of large-currency bills. He quietly laid the thousand-dollar bill on the table in front of her.

  She glanced down. Her eyes narrowed to slits. Her pretty lips thinned even more. But she didn’t shove the money away. Or cuss him out for making any presumptions. Nor did she snatch it up and stuff it in her pocket either. She didn’t make any move.

  Weighing her options.

  Maybe he needed to sweeten the deal.

  Dipping into his wallet again, he pulled out a second Cleveland. He set it on top of the first.

  Still nothing from her.

  He added a third, fourth, and fifth.

  Finally, she looked at him. “Why do you need to buy a wife, Drako? Maybe years ago men like you would buy a wife. But anymore? Come on. Guys with money buy whores and collect trophy wives.”

  Drako slid his wallet back into his pocket. “I won’t disagree with that—for the average guy like me.” Hell, if it weren’t for the fact that his duty as a Black Gryffon called for him taking a wife for more reasons than appearances, he would’ve found himself a woman who was content to call herself his wife in public while living separate lives in private. “But my situation is a little unique.”

  “Unique? How?”

  They were straying from the topic at hand. And more than ever, he was determined to convince her to accept.

  She was lovely. Delicate and small. Her voice was sweet and smooth. He sensed a spark of intelligence. And the memories of their dance made him hard and tight. He pulled out his wallet again, added another thousand dollar bill to the pile. On top of that, he placed a ring box and lifted the lid.

  Her eyes flared with some unreadable emotion as they tracked his movements.

  “You’ll have a very good life. A nice home. Clothes. Jewelry. Art. A very generous sum of money to spend any way you like. As my wife, you’ll have every comfort you can imagine.”

  After a beat she asked, “How generous?”

  Yes, even this stubborn beauty had her price. Now, he felt like he was on solid footing. Negotiating a deal, he could handle. Tiptoeing through a woman’s emotional minefield was an entirely different matter.

  He measured her reaction to the money, the ring. She hadn’t reacted as he’d hoped, leading him to believe she might have very high expectations. Her manner of speaking, the way she carried herself, and her cool demeanor spoke of culture and refinement she shouldn’t possess. “Twenty thousand a month.”

  Her eyes revealed nothing. “What’s the catch? There’s always something. What do you expect from a wife you’d buy versus one you’d meet, fall in love with, and then marry?”

  He felt the smile spread over his face, “See, that’s just it. If I wanted love from a wife, I wouldn’t need to buy one.”

  “No love?”

  “No love.”

  “Can I ask, why?”

  Shit, he’d hoped she wouldn’t ask that question. “Well, because I’m trying to avoid some very serious complications in my life.”

  She set her elbows on the table and plunked her chin on her fists. “So, you’ve had some bad experiences?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Rin placed one hand on his. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to understand.”

  Feeling like things weren’t going the way he’d hoped, and anxious to get the conversation back on track, he searched for the right words. “I’ve watched men fall in love and then fall apart. I can’t allow myself to be weak. Too many people count on me.”

  “I think I understand.” She stared down at the ring. “Kind of.” She touched the stone, a brief, hesitant contact with one fingertip. “Will there be sex?”

  “Yes. That would be part of the marriage.”

  “Children?”

  “Most definitely. That’s the most important reason for my taking a wife.”

  “But no love. Not ever.”

  “Not ever. I can’t let myself fall in love. I won’t. I’m trying to be honest, lay everything on the table upfront.” He slid the stack of bills closer to her. “And it may go without saying, but I don’t want any misunderstandings. Divorce is not an option. So, now you understand why I’d rather buy a wife than find one by more traditional methods. I want my wife to understand and accept my limitations ahead of time. It’s my hope you can approach our marriage like a business partnership, or a friendship, rather than an emotion-driven relationship. That’s not to say there won’t be some tender feelings. Respect. Admiration. Loyalty. Even affection.”

  “I see. Will you be . . . ?” She sipped her cola and set down her glass. “Will you still go to the dungeons? Do the bondage stuff?” After a beat, she added, “My friend Andi told me.”

  “Yes, I will,” he answered, making sure to keep his voice free of any guilt or apology. “D/s is a part of who I am. But if it’s not something you’re interested in, I respect that. I would never ask you to do anything just for me, my pleasure.”

  “Then you’ll do those things with someone else?”

  “Yes. But I promise I won’t have intercourse with another partner. I won’t put your health or mine in jeopardy. My activities in the dungeon will be strictly nonsexual.”

  Again, he could read nothing in her eyes.

  “I need time. To think. One day?”

  He nodded. “One day. Should we meet here?”

  “No. This is the worst dump ever. There’s a nicer restaurant on Main and Seventh. Riley’s. How about we meet there tomorrow at noon?”

  “Tomorrow at twelve o’clock, at Riley’s.” As he watched her stand, he palmed the ring box, then pushed the money toward her. “This is yours to keep, regardless of your decision.”

  This time, as her eyes met his, he did read something in them, something that looked a lot like gratitude.

  “Okay.” She gathered the bills into her fist and tucked them into her purse.

  Confident he’d found his bride, he smiled. “I hope next time you’ll let me buy you a meal.”

  For the first time in a long, tense stretch, she returned his smile. “I’ll think about it.”

  He’d just walked out. Nobody had stopped him; nobody had known they needed to. According to the United States Constitution John Dale Oram, head of a clandestine group called the Chimera, had every right to sign those papers, releasing himself from the hospital. For the past ten years, he’d been in and out of halfway houses and hospitals, but he’d never been violent, never hurt anyone. His diagnosis: hebephrenic schizophrenia. Just a month ago, he’d voluntarily committed himself again, but his “condition” was under control. And he was no longer viewed as a threat to himself or others.

  Drako knew better.

  Oram wasn’t delusional and his thoughts were far from disorganized. He was calculating, intelligent, and his seeming preoccupation with religion and philosophy had a purpose.

  Nobody suspected the truth.

  Oram was a bigger danger than anyone had ever guessed—not to himself, not to a few people, but to millions.

  Drako had put out a call to a few close friends, hoping he’d get a bead on the man, but Drako had found out too late that Oram had checked out. Within minut
es of being released, the man, and the vehicle he’d left in, had vanished.

  The timing of Oram’s vanishing act was too convenient to be accidental.

  Within moments of learning his father had taken his last breath, Drako had been told that the man his father had nearly executed was out walking the streets, the shroud of a fake psychiatric condition cast aside.

  When his brothers entered the library, Drako didn’t wait to tell them the news. He started with, “Father’s dead,” and ended with, “Oram’s on the move and he already shook our tail.”

  Malek was the first of the two to find his tongue. “Damn.”

  Talen shook his head. “I knew it would be soon, but. . .shit. I’ll miss him.”

  “Me too.” Standing at his desk, Drako flattened his hands on the top and leaned forward. “Unfortunately, there’s no time for grieving. It’ll be a quick burial. Nothing complicated. And for obvious reasons, we can’t attend. We’ve got to keep focused; it’s our duty.” Drako straightened. “Oram has had ten years to plan for today. We have to be ready, to be aware of everyone and everything around us. He doesn’t know what we look like or our aliases. And he might not know how to find us yet, but already it’s obvious he’s been using the time wisely. If he launches an attack before we’re ready, we’re fucked.”

  “And so is most of humanity,” Talen added.

  “Yeah,” Drako and Malek agreed.

  The three shared a silent moment, a thought, a prayer, for their father’s peace. None of them said it, but Drako imagined they all thought it, he was finally with their mother again, in a better place.

  When his brothers both met his gaze, letting him know they were ready to move on, Drako pulled a file from his drawer. “We need eyes and ears. But we need to be careful who we hire. We don’t want to risk tipping off the enemy.” Drako pointed at Talen. “I’m thinking two good men should do it.”

  Talen nodded. “I’m on it.”

  “Malek, if Oram finds out who we are, we want to divert him to another location, not here. We need another house, somewhere far enough from here to keep us safe.”

  “Got it.”

  Satisfied they were on the right track, Drako sat. “I’m going to—”

  “Get married,” Malek interrupted. “As soon as possible. You can’t put it off now. Not with father gone. There’s nobody but us. Father’s brothers died years ago, and they left no sons to take our places. If we die without sons, there isn’t a man, woman, or child alive that won’t suffer the consequences.”

  “You’re right.” Drako drew in a deep breath, released it. “A wedding is the last thing I want to think about right now, but it’s my duty. It will be done.”

  3

  “There’s our Romeo.” Chuckling, Malek pounded Drako on the back and sauntered into Drako’s bedroom. “Oh, what’s wrong, big brother? Are you scared?”

  “No, I’m not scared.” Drako stuffed the velvet jewelry box into his jacket pocket and sent his taunting brother a warning glare, wishing he could physically wipe that smirk off his face. “You laugh now, but your time’s coming, little brother. Just wait.” Sitting on the bed, he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

  “Waiting is exactly what I plan on doing.” The spark somewhat faded from Malek’s eyes, he threw himself into the chair in the corner and stretched his arms over his head. “In the meantime, I’m enjoying every minute of my bachelorhood. Or what’s left of it. Last night. Mmmm. Those Randall twins were something else. Let me tell you . . .”

  Drako didn’t bother interrupting Malek’s story to tell him he was full of shit. Drako had had the Randall twins. A month ago. But his experience with them was a far cry from the erotic scene his brother was describing. They laid on their backs, legs spread, arms at their sides, stiff as blow-up dolls. He’d never have guessed. The gorgeous blondes looked the part of wildcats in heat, but in reality, they were as cold as corpses.

  Just wasn’t right.

  Talen shoved open the door and strolled in. “Ready to go throw away your freedom and tether yourself to the old ball and chain?”

  “Can’t a guy get dressed in private anymore?” Drako grumbled, tying his shoelace.

  Malek threw an arm over the chair’s back. “Check it out, our bro’s nervous. What’s wrong, Drako? Afraid she’ll say no?”

  “She’s not going to say no. Not a chance.” Standing, he headed to the large mirror hanging over his dresser. His shirt collar wasn’t lying right. The cleaner didn’t use enough starch. Again. “I told you, I know how to pick them. You’ll see.” Still fighting with his collar, he grimaced at himself in the mirror. He wished he felt as sure as he sounded. If Rin changed her mind, after all the crowing he’d done, he’d look like a total ass.

  Last night, he’d been so sure she wouldn’t shoot him down. But this morning all that confidence evaporated as he’d checked into the details of getting married.

  Hitched.

  Tying the knot.

  The old ball and chain.

  Shit, the whole institution made him feel sick, let alone all the tedious details. Dresses. Flowers. Churches. Dinner menus. Licenses. It was enough to make a guy want to run as far and fast as he could. But, duty being duty, and his life being what it was, he had no choice. Neither did his brothers. And it was his responsibility as the oldest son to set an example, to step up first and accept this responsibility like a man.

  “What kind of ring did you make her?” Talen asked. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

  The ring. That was the only detail he didn’t mind seeing to. “The kind any woman would be glad to have.” As a jeweler who specialized in designing high-quality pieces crafted with rare stones, he knew a fine, quality gemstone when he saw one. And even more important, he knew how women reacted to one. A little chunk of carbon could turn the most furious hellcat into a soft, sweet woman.

  Ironically, he’d thought the ring he’d tucked into his pocket would have inspired his Rin to fall to her knees and propose to him when she’d first seen it. But it hadn’t, and she didn’t.

  “Forget about my personal life for a minute. What’s the news about Oram? Anything yet?”

  “Still nothing.” Talen shook his head. “The boys I hired have checked everywhere. The bastard is deep underground. And I’m beginning to wonder if maybe he’s having a hard time trying to gather enough resources to lead another attack. After losing so many guys when father—”

  “Right. And Malek’s the perfect candidate for the priesthood.” Drako turned to face his brothers. “That’s exactly what he wants us to think. The bastard wants us to think he’s lost the Chimera’s support, get careless and sloppy. But I won’t be caught by surprise. He’s been watching, waiting, planning for years. Once he knows who we are, he’s going to look for any vulnerability he can find. And then, when we least expect it, he’ll attack. Our father won the last battle, but the war’s far from over.” He headed toward the door. “As soon as I’m through with this marriage stuff, I’m getting back to work. No more distractions.”

  “Good luck, bro!” Malek shouted after him.

  “I don’t need luck.” Drako hesitated at the door, catching sight of something glittering in Malek’s hand. “Hey, what’s that?”

  “What? This?” Malek raised his hand, something small—a piece of jewelry?—pinched between his index finger and thumb. He shrugged. “Just an earring one of the twins left behind. It’s worthless. Cubic zirconium, I think.”

  “Hey, you know the rules about keeping things left by visitors,” Talen said, charging over to snatch it from Malek’s hand. After a brief inspection, he handed it back. “Get rid of it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I will.” Malek shrugged his shoulders, giving the tiny piece another look. “Wouldn’t want to find out it’s a bomb, bug, or secret spy camera. It’s too small to be any of those. You’re getting paranoid.”

  “You can never be too careful.” Still standing at the door, Drako gave his brothers one final wave. “Later, boys.”

>   Rin dragged her sweat-slicked palms down her thighs and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths. She straightened her skirt, tugged at her knit top, and checked her watch for the gazillionth time. Quarter to twelve.

  Ohmygod.

  Riley’s was only two blocks away. She’d be seeing him soon. Him. Her future husband.

  I’m making the right decision.

  The irony wasn’t lost to her—that she was selling herself into an arranged marriage in order to buy her sister’s freedom. If anyone would have told her a year ago that this was where she’d be now, she would have laughed in their face.

  Arranged marriages? In the twenty-first century? In Michigan? No way!

  Yes, way.

  Just like there wasn’t slavery in the United States anymore. All the slaves were freed during the American Civil War.

  Not even close.

  The minute Rin had learned her sister had been sold, she’d hit the Internet for information. And she was shocked, appalled, and sickened by what she’d learned. Slave trade was big business. International business. And way more common than she’d ever have guessed.

  She shoved those dark thoughts aside as she rounded a corner and checked her watch again. It was twelve minutes before noon. She could see the restaurant now. Her nerves were skittery, her heart thumping heavily in her chest.

  What if he changed his mind? Or what if he refused the only condition she wanted to add to their agreement?

  She wouldn’t, couldn’t, change her mind. It had taken her only a few hours to think this through, weigh her options (there weren’t any), and get herself semi-used to the idea. She was going to be married. Married! Soon.

  The air seeped from her lungs again, and she gulped in another breath.

  It was going to be okay. Drako was an attractive man. Sex wouldn’t be bad. In fact, it would probably be downright enjoyable. There was most definitely chemistry between them. She didn’t know him very well, but she sensed he wasn’t a psychopath. And—most important—she, her sister, and her future children would have the kind of stability she’d always dreamed of. Already, she’d formulated a rough plan of what she’d do after she had Lei safe.