Darkest Fire

by Tawny Taylor

  The next bit of time seemed to rush past in a hazy blur. Her mind focused on Drako, his quiet strength a welcome comfort during the ceremony. They signed in, took a seat in a waiting area and, when they were called into the courtroom, took their places in front of the cheerful judge. The vows were over before she had fully comprehended what she’d promised, rings exchanged, papers signed, and congratulations given by the employees serving as witnesses.

  She didn’t faint.

  She didn’t throw up.

  As they were about to leave the courtroom, as Mr. and Mrs. Drako Alexandre, the judge stopped them with an unexpected, “Wait a minute. We forgot the most important part.”

  They’d said the “I do” ’s. Signed on the dotted lines. Mr. Judge had stamped and Ms. Notary had sealed and signed . . . and what important part was left?

  “You may now kiss the bride,” the judge said, grinning.

  Rin’s stomach slid to her toes, and the butterflies in her belly, the ones that had finally stopped flapping around like headless chickens, went back to doing dives and swoops and spins. She looked up into her husband’s face. Her brain registered his I’m-only-doing-this-because-I-have-to expression just before he tipped his head.

  She slammed her eyelids closed, curled her fingers around his forearms, and waited.

  His lips were warm, moist but not soggy, soft but also not timid. They slid across hers smoothly, like satin. The brief contact was enough to make her head spin . . . and a few parts of her anatomy blaze. He didn’t stop there, evidently deciding he needed to put on a believable show. His hands cupped her face, thumbs grazing across her cheekbones, and he kissed her more earnestly. His mouth tormented and teased hers until she parted her lips to drag in a deeper breath, which only opened her up to even greater torment. And pleasure.

  When his tongue dipped inside to fill her mouth with his sweet, intoxicating flavor, she actually whimpered. Raw, unexpected desire flared in her body, igniting little simmering blazes along all her nerves. Driven by that desire, she slid her tongue along his, enjoying the taste of him, the scent that had filled her nostrils, and the gentle pressure of his hands as he held her head still, captured, so that he could taste and take and possess at his leisure. She was powerless to move away.

  She didn’t want to move away.

  But then that silly judge, the one who’d made a point of suggesting the kiss in the first place, cleared his throat, putting an end to what had no doubt been the most amazing kiss of her life.

  At the moment, she was mighty happy she’d married Drako Alexandre. If that glorious kiss was a sign of things to come, then she was going to enjoy the more intimate parts of their arrangement a whole lot.

  The world seemed to be rocking under her feet, necessitating her wrapping her arm around his waist and smooshing her body against his side. She gave the judge a self-conscious smile, muttered, “Thank you,” and with her husband’s help, walked out to the car.

  No sooner were they on the road than her thoughts were back where they should be, on getting the money to the jerk who was selling her sister, and getting Lei safely under her roof, or rather, Drako’s.

  It was done. He had accepted his duty and taken a wife. There was only one thing left to do now, and after that kiss, he was sort of looking forward to it.

  She wasn’t anything like his typical lover, seeking dark carnal pleasures through D/s, looking for him to play a role, take control, lead him or her on a journey into themselves. Drako hadn’t taken every one of his play partners into his bed, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex without scening with the partner first. Power play was his foreplay. It warmed his blood. But it did more than that. It turned his mind away from obligations, duty, responsibility.

  Tonight would be a different experience for him, one he had been anticipating with less enthusiasm than a trip to the dentist. Vanilla sex had never been fulfilling for him. It had been too mechanical, robotic, detached from the rest of him—soul, mind. Insert Rod A into Slot B, slide it around for a few minutes, and that was it. Done.

  But that was before that kiss.

  Was it hopeful thinking on his part, or had he sensed a level of submission in his new bride’s response?

  Then again, did he dare take their marriage to that level and allow himself to be that vulnerable?

  What if he learned to need her?

  Love her?

  The thought terrified him.

  He couldn’t let it go that far. The price they would pay, not only he and his bride, but his brothers, and others too. . . .

  Nonono.

  It was far better to be safe. To protect himself, his brothers, and the many other people who depended upon them, he would have to keep things under control. That was, after all, the reason for his buying a bride in the first place. She would understand. She’d accepted his proposal. They’d both made their choice, freely, and were facing the consequences as adults. There was nothing more to think about.

  He pulled the envelope from his pocket and handed it to her, assuming she was anxious to get the money now.

  She accepted it with a soft, “Thank you,” and slipped it into her purse, turning her head away again to stare out the window.

  Anxiety was etched into her expression, her tight lips and taut jaw, the slender column of her neck and slight tremble in her hands. Long tapered fingers were curled tightly around the leather straps of her purse, her knuckles white from the pressure.

  “I hope you don’t mind. . . .I have a quick errand to run when we get home,” she muttered as she toyed with her ring. “It’s important.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “No. Please.” She looked at him. “I mean, thanks for offering, but I hate to drag you along, make you waste more time—”

  “I don’t mind.” He enunciated the words clearly, hoping she’d get the message without him having to say it. There weren’t a lot of good reasons—ones that didn’t involve assholes with guns—for a person to need as much cash as she did all at one time. He might not be striving to be Husband of the Year, but he would protect his wife, whether she was willing to let him or not.

  She chewed on her lip. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll wait in the car if you want,” he lied.

  It took her a minute or two, but she finally acquiesced with a breathy, “Okay.”

  “Where to?”

  “Magic Touch. I need to make a phone call.”

  He reached for her, wanting her to listen closely, to hear his words, and to believe them. “Tell me why you need so much money. What could possibly be worth selling yourself, your future, for? Rin, you can trust me.”

  5

  You can trust me.

  Rin had heard those words so many times before, and from so many untrustworthy people, they were like a red blinking light, a signal. Warning: Danger Ahead, Do Not Enter.

  Yet, despite her instinct, she had a gut feeling she needed Drako’s help. He’d be her backup, in case the bastard who had Lei decided his original price had been too low.

  But did that mean she had to tell him everything?

  “My sister,” she blurted. “It’s for her.”

  “Your sister,” he echoed, glancing at her with those dark, probing eyes.

  “She’s worth it. Any price.”

  “You sold yourself to help your sister?”

  She shrugged. “Yes. I needed the money for her.”

  “I see.” His puzzled expression said exactly the opposite. “Did she borrow more than she could pay back? Or did she build up a gambling debt?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” Rin stared down at her wedding ring. It was going to take some time getting used to wearing it. Sure, it was beautiful, the prettiest ring she’d ever seen. The center stone was a brilliant blue shade. Absolutely gorgeous. Regardless, it felt heavy, strange.

  It was going to take some time getting used to something else—having someone else care what happened to her, what she was doing an
d where she was going. If there was going to be any hope of trust developing between them someday, she had to tell him more.

  She said, “I won’t lie, we’ll be dealing with somebody who’s just as dangerous and slimy as a loan shark. I’m . . . I met with him once, and I’m not sure he’s going to give me what I want, even after I hand over the money.”

  The car came to a sudden stop.

  “Who?”

  She knew he was staring at her, shocked, angry, bewildered, which was why she couldn’t stop looking down at her hands, tightly gripped in her lap. “A man named Campioni. He’s a local contact for an international sex slave smuggling ring. I’m . . . buying my sister.”

  Her husband visibly gritted his teeth. “The police should be involved—”

  Panic set in. “No!” She threw her hands forward, catching the front of his shirt in her fists. “Please.” Within a single stuttering heartbeat, her eyes filled with hot tears. “Please,” she repeated, the words choking her, clogged in a throat that was closing in on itself. “You don’t know how long I’ve been searching. How many times—” Despite trying to swallow it down, a sob tore through the blockage and slipped between her lips. “They’ll send her away again.” It was no use now, months of desperation, of pain and longing and frustration had taken their toll and all the emotions she’d been squelching broke through the barrier she’d fought so long to hold up. Tears ran from her eyes in hard gushes, and sobbing, retching noises thundered from her chest. Her head dropped forward, her forehead striking something hard. Her hands went to her face, catching hot, salty tears and somewhat muffling her sniffles and sobs.

  She wanted to stop, but she couldn’t. Tried to, but failed. Fought to, but eventually surrendered. It was only then, when she finally accepted that she couldn’t control the outburst, that it eased a little. A little more. Finally, she was breathless and dizzy and exhausted, but the worst was over.

  When her vision cleared, she realized her face was buried in his shirt and he was touching her. On the head. His hand wasn’t moving; it was just resting there. But the gesture was so patient and kind it almost made her start crying again.

  “I’ll handle this,” he said.

  “But I never expected you to,” she said to his chest. “She’s my sister. My responsibility.”

  “It’s dangerous.” When she looked up, he explained, “What makes you think a man who sells human beings is going to keep his end of any bargain, especially with a woman who is—no offense—the size of the average twelve year old? It’s more likely you’d end up becoming his next victim. Then where will you both be?”

  “You’re right.” Sitting upright, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to subdue the shudders still quaking through her body. “I thought of that, and I wasn’t going to assume fifty thousand dollars was going to be enough to appease his greed. I was hoping . . .” What? That’d he’d give her Lei anyway?

  “You said your sister’s name is Lei?”

  “Yes.” She grabbed her purse, unzipped it, and pulled out the worn photograph she always carried. She handed it to him. “This was taken just before . . .”

  “. . . she was kidnapped?” he finished.

  Unable to tell him the ugly truth, she simply nodded. “I still feel guilty making you do this.”

  “You aren’t making me do anything.” He placed Lei’s picture in his wallet, shifted the car into drive, and pulled back out into traffic. “After you call Campioni, I’ll take you home. I don’t want you there when the deal goes down. Just in case things go bad.”

  Those words hung in the heavy air for several moments until she couldn’t help herself, and she had to apologize. “I’m sorry. For dragging you into something I’m sure you don’t want to get into. I feel awful.”

  “Don’t.”

  “But I’m not used to this, to letting somebody else handle something I should be doing—”

  “I just wish you’d trusted me before.” When he stopped the car at a red light, he gave her a long, hard look.

  She lifted her chin, making sure he saw the determination in her eyes. “I wouldn’t have accepted the money without marrying you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “What about a loan?” he asked, turning when the light changed.

  “I couldn’t pay that much money back.” She shook her head, more convinced than ever that she’d made the only choice she could have. “There was nothing you could have said or done to make me take money I couldn’t repay.”

  At the next red light, Drako commented, “You’re stubborn.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “When it comes to some things, like matters of honor, I guess I am.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  They shared a smile, a moment, and in that magical second or two, as they gazed into each other’s eyes, Rin wondered if she hadn’t, by some bizarre twist of fate, found the man of her dreams.

  Of course, it was way too soon to tell. In her current state, she certainly couldn’t trust her intuition or gut feeling, not when her emotions were so stirred up. She was anxious, petrified something would go wrong with Lei, confused and worried about her new marriage, and unsure whether she’d made the worst mistake of her life.

  But there was something in her heart now that hadn’t been there for a long, long time. Hope.

  Drako hid his thoughts from his bride as he drove down familiar streets, knowing what he was thinking would make Rin even more upset, feel guiltier. He wasn’t happy about this situation, but he couldn’t blame anybody but himself, certainly not Rin. He hadn’t known the details, but that didn’t mean he had been taken by complete surprise by her story either. Women didn’t marry men for fifty thousand dollars, cash, every day. There was a very good reason why she’d done something so odd, so desperate.

  Her sister was a sex slave? That wasn’t something he’d exposed himself to in a while. There’d been a time or two—he’d been at his worst—when he’d resorted to paying for some female company. He hadn’t asked, but one girl told him, after she’d serviced him, that she had been kidnapped from her home, shipped out of her country, and forced into prostitution. He’d briefly considered helping her, had in fact planned to hire her again and ask her some questions, but when he’d called the call girl agency, he was told she was gone and nobody knew what had happened to her.

  Much later, he learned she’d been found dead, the supposed victim of a mass murderer who had been killing local, high-priced prostitutes.

  After that experience, Drako never hired another prostitute again. He also decided, after the fact, that getting involved in smuggling a sex slave out of the country wasn’t something he needed to be doing, for a lot of reasons. How ironic that he was facing a similar situation now, so many years later.

  At least he had learned something useful. He knew that one small mistake could cost Rin’s sister her life.

  He’d have to use a fake name. No doubt about that. Above all else, he had to protect his family and the secret they were charged to keep. He wouldn’t ask his brothers to help, even if it was a temptation. He’d have to go alone.

  He parked the car in the lot next to the massage parlor where Rin had been working, and as she jumped out of the passenger seat with a quick, “I’ll be right back,” he stared at the little piece of his face that was reflected in the rearview mirror. How could he disguise himself?

  Sunglasses and a hat would have to do. He’d make a quick stop somewhere to pick some up.

  When she returned to the car, she turned a nervous smile his way. “He’ll meet you in a half hour. Here.” A little reluctantly, she handed him the envelope of cash.

  “Perfect. That gives me enough time to take you home.” As he shifted the car into gear, he warned her, “You can’t tell my brothers anything. No matter what happens. Promise me.”

  Her eyes widened. “I promise.”

  He gave her one final look and then, figuring he had a fifty-fifty chance of her keeping his secret, an
d wishing his chances were better, he decided he couldn’t take her back to his house yet. His brothers were taking up temporary residences to give them some privacy, but they wouldn’t be gone yet. “I think we’d better go with Plan B.”

  “Plan B?”

  “Where do—did—you live?”

  “Oh! That Plan B. Take a left at the next light.” She pointed up ahead.

  “Can I get there and back in fifteen?”

  “Ten, and that’s if you hit every light.”

  “Excellent. I need to make a quick stop and I’d like to be there before Campioni does. Don’t want to risk walking into an ambush. He isn’t expecting me, right? That’ll work to my benefit.”

  “Actually, I told him it wouldn’t be me. I was afraid . . .”

  “It’s okay.” He left her at the curb, looking small and terrified, and an uneasy sensation washed over him.

  Earlier, when she’d been crying, he’d blamed his weakness on that awful sobbing. Even he, who was normally impervious to the majority of human emotions, had a hard time remaining stoic when a woman was crying. But there’d been no tears since, and still, at this moment, a part of him wanted to hold his new bride, to protect her and take care of her. Badly. Not because it was his duty, like he had told her, or like he had tried to convince himself.

  But just . . . because.

  This was not the way he’d thought his wedding day would go.

  This wasn’t the way Rin had imagined her wedding day would go. There’d been no formal ceremony. No church. No altar. No flowers. No reception or maid of honor.

  No love.

  No stolen kisses in the back of a limo.

  No being carried in strong arms over the threshold.

  Not even a giddy, happy anticipation of things to come. Tonight. Tomorrow. Next month or year. Nope.

  Instead, here she was, married but alone. With nothing, not even the money she’d basically sold herself for. And she was clinging to a promise from a man she barely knew and the miniscule shred of hope he had sparked in her heart, that she hadn’t made the mistake of a lifetime.