Darkest Fire

by Tawny Taylor

  A lamp is like sunshine . . .

  Jane Austen’s words, spoken in Rin’s sweet voice, played through Drako’s mind all day as he worked on a ring that he hoped would make his client’s soon-to-be fiancée happier than she had probably ever been. It was an engagement ring, platinum, almost but not quite as special as the one he’d made for his wife. Whereas Rin’s ring had one of the most unusual diamonds set in the center, vivid blue, cushion cut, this one had a flawless three-carat green-blue diamond. Around the center stone he was setting a frame of tiny perfect diamonds, the brilliance a gorgeous contrast to the center stone’s deep hue.

  As he looked at that stone, he couldn’t help thinking about his wife. Just like the stone, Rin was a rarity, something pure and glorious and organic. He couldn’t wait to see her tonight. Listen to that soft voice as she read to him.

  Only one stone remained when Malek entered his workshop, taking a seat on the bench next to him.

  Drako set down his tools and looked at his brother.

  Malek cleared his throat. “I found the report about the ‘Mystery Illness.’ The original report didn’t give much in the way of details, but thanks to the fact that Wilkerson was brought into the same emergency room, with similar symptoms, we were able to find out what the nature of the illness was.”

  “Which was?” Drako checked his work through the loupe.

  “Poisoning. There were a few substances found in the patients’ bloodstreams, including LSD and a drug commonly prescribed for insomnia, midazolam. Wilkerson’s blood tested positive for the same substances.”

  “He was dosed?”

  “Yep.” Malek picked up one of Drako’s pliers, weighed it in his hand.

  “Do we know when or where the other patients were exposed to the drugs?” At this point, Drako didn’t know what to think about Wilkerson’s poisoning. Because there had been other victims, he wanted to believe Wilkerson’s sickness was a matter of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “No, that hasn’t been determined yet. But I was told the FBI is investigating. One victim died.”

  “That’s unfortunate.” As much as Drako hated to hear someone had died, he was semirelieved to know that Wilkerson’s condition was probably not caused by the work he’d done for them. “Any word on Wilkerson’s recovery?”

  Malek set down the pliers and picked up a pendant Drako had just finished. Inspecting the piece, Malek said, “The doctor told me Wilkerson will be fine. I talked to Dobbs after I talked to the doctor. There’s a huge hole in Wilkerson’s memory of that day, but it sounds like he’s feeling better.”

  “Good.”

  Malek set down the pendant and stood, his hip resting against Drako’s work table. “I guess Wilkerson has some Good Samaritan out there to thank, for taking him to the hospital. If he was hallucinating, there’s no saying what might’ve happened to him if he’d continued to wander the streets. Especially in that neighborhood.”

  At least that was one less problem to worry about. Drako was tired of chasing shadows. He wanted to find Oram, and he wanted to know what the Chimera were up to next. Whether it was intentional or not, the day that Oram vanished, Drako had interpreted it as a message.

  The Chimera were ready to make their move.

  But damn if Drako knew what move they were about to make. It was like trying to play a game of chess without being able to see the board or the pieces.

  “We’ve gotta find the Chimera, instead of waiting for them to find us,” he said, more to himself than to his brother.

  “The Black Gryffons have been guarding The Secret for two thousand years. But, Drako, we’ve never been the aggressor. We keep quiet, hide in plain sight, and live like we have nothing to hide. It’s worked all this time. Why change it now?”

  Drako leaned back, away from his work, and crossed his arms. “Because if we don’t stop the Chimera once and for all, our children, and our children’s children, and their children are going to spend all their days looking over their shoulders, just like we are, fearing the Chimera’s next attack. This is no way to live.”

  Malek didn’t look convinced as he shook his head. “But do you think they can be stopped forever? As long as someone knows about The Secret, there’s going to be somebody else who wants it.”

  Malek had a point. There’d always be someone looking for The Secret, because traces of its power lingered in mankind’s history—how the Egyptian pyramids and Stonehenge were constructed to name a couple. The Chimera were their primary concern, but there had been others who’d come close to discovering the truth. There was the occasional UFO enthusiast who put two and two together, the archeologist who’d find something in a dig, and the scientist researching new power sources. Every now and then, Drako would find an article in a scientific journal or on the Internet describing The Secret, using one of its many aliases, but nobody ever got too close. The Chimera silenced anyone who was almost there, either by making them a member of their organization or by bullet.

  Drako shoved his fingers through his hair. “If there was a way to destroy it, I’d do it.”

  “But would that be fair to future generations? To the people who will someday use it the way it was meant to be used, and benefit from its power?”

  Drako stood, putting himself eye-to-eye with his brother. “We all know history has a tendency to repeat itself. So, what’s worse, risking the destruction of everything mankind has managed to accomplish up to this point or taking away what he might have someday?”

  Malek looked defeated and confused as he studied Drako for a cold, silent moment. “Okay.”

  “We can’t wait for them to come to us, like our father and his brothers did. Because of Father’s one mistake, the Chimera found them, and they were almost successful in stealing The Secret.”

  “But you’re not going to make the same mistake Father did.” Malek gave him a squinty look.

  “Of course I’m not,” Drako said. “I loved that man more than anyone, but when he fell in love with Mother. . . he wasn’t the same. He lost his focus. His commitment to his duty.” He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t repeat our father’s mistake. But we’ve got to be proactive anyway.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  Drako stared past his brother. “I don’t have one yet. We’ve got to put our heads together, the three of us. Oram’s too fucking smart. And crazy enough to not care about risks. Exactly the kind of enemy we don’t need.”

  Malek nodded. “You know what they say, you’ve got to think like a criminal to catch one.”

  “Excellent point.” Drako paced back and forth in the tight space of his workshop. “So, if I were Oram, trying to track down an enemy I’d never seen or met, what would I do?”

  Malek stepped back, giving Drako more space to move. “I’d make him come to me.”

  “Yes.” Drako smiled and clapped his brother on the back. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wouldn’t be running from an invisible enemy for the rest of his life. “That’s exactly what we need to do. Make him come to us. Call Talen. Have him meet us here. We have work to do.”

  That evening when Drako came home, Rin had plenty to talk about. While he sat in the den and listened, looking moderately interested—bless him—she chattered on and on—about the great deals she’d found while shopping; the horrible car accident she’d witnessed; the lunch she’d shared with her sister at the mall; the work she did at the local Salvation Army, helping organize the food pantry and hang items in the store; and the trip she’d made to the local community college campus, where she’d enrolled Lei in a few classes for the summer semester, starting in a few days.

  It had been a busy day, and she was genuinely happy. In fact, she told him that as she wrapped up the Tale of Two Sisters. “If you were worried,” she said, “about me being unhappy, worry no more. You’ve given me everything I need to live a full, productive life, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Good.” He stretched his arms ov
er his head, and she watched, ever aware of the latent strength of his limbs. He was a powerful man, his body beautifully formed. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him as she did their first night together as husband and wife, nude, standing next to the bed, his skin gleaming in the soft lamp light.

  When would they be together again?

  After a long yawn, he said, “My brothers will be returning home at the end of the month.”

  That was going to be interesting. She’d never lived with a house full of men. “Okay,” she said, hoping she sounded cheery.

  “They won’t bother you.” There was an edge to his voice she hadn’t heard before.

  Was he the jealous sort or was she reading his tone all wrong?

  “How many brothers do you have?” She pulled the soft throw off the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself. She had no clue what the house’s thermostat was set at, but it seemed to be perpetually cold. In every room. Here it was, June, and she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a hoodie, and she was still freezing.

  “I have two brothers.”

  This was a conversation Rin had anticipated. After all, she’d been told about the brothers the moment she’d stepped foot in the place. It was the perfect lead-in to a question she’d been waiting to ask. “The house is going to get more crowded then. We’ll have less privacy. Would you prefer Lei found her own place to live? I’d be willing to pay—”

  “No. She can stay here as long as she wants.”

  If her husband truly didn’t want her sister to stay, and was just saying what he thought she wanted to hear, he was one of the most convincing liars she’d ever met.

  She decided she’d rather believe he wasn’t a liar. The smile she gave him was genuine and heartfelt, as were the words she said, “Thank you.”

  “Don’t. This is your home now, and your family is as welcome here as mine.”

  She nodded. Picked up the book lying on the coffee table and showed it to him. “I haven’t read any more since last night. I thought . . . we’d read it together. The whole thing. A little each evening?”

  “Sure. That’s fine.”

  She opened to the next chapter and began, “ ‘Emma continued to entertain no doubt of her being in love. . . .’ ”

  An hour later, after she’d read three chapters to him, Drako stopped her with a soft touch on her arm. “I have to go now.”

  “Go?”

  “Please, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” Sweetly, he cupped her cheeks and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night.” Before her next inhalation, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there alone, whispering good night to his retreating back.

  Struggling to tamp down an emotion she didn’t dare explore, she listened as Drako left the house. A soft thump echoed when he closed the door behind him.

  Her sister’s arms wrapped around her from behind.

  Doing her damnedest to hide her true feelings, Rin turned to give her sister an empty smile. “He had work to do.”

  “Sure.” Hair still dripping from the shower she had just taken, Lei flopped onto the couch and picked up Emma.

  Rin sat beside Lei, swiveling to face her. She rested one arm on the couch back, and with the other, she pulled a throw pillow onto her lap and hugged it to her chest. The pillow was tall enough for her to rest her chin on it without bending over. “We had a nice time together, reading, talking.”

  “I’m glad.” Her sister gave her a faux look of pity.

  “Don’t give me that fake pity pout.”

  “What’s there to pity, right?” Lei thumbed through the pages of the book, then set it aside. “You have the world’s perfect marriage.”

  “Exactly.” Rin lifted the book and set it in her lap. She ran her flattened hands over the cover. “I’m happy, Lei.”

  “Good. So am I. I want to forget everything that happened, but I can’t. But in a way, that’s okay. It makes me appreciate this more. Being here with you. Living a simple life. Going back to school.” Lei yawned, stretched. The brand-new tank top she was wearing lifted, showing a slice of stomach. “All that shopping today wore me out. I think I’m going to go to bed. What about you?”

  “I’ll be up in a bit,” she told her sister, already having made the decision to stay up awhile and wait for Drako.

  “Okay. See you in the morning.” Lei blew her an air kiss, which Rin returned.

  “G-night.” Rin watched Lei pad barefooted into the kitchen, grab an apple, and after taking a bite, head toward the back of the house. After Lei was out of her line of sight, Rin jumped into action. First thing, she started some coffee. While the coffeemaker was doing its thing, she headed to her room to put on the hot little baby doll nightgown she’d bought today. After fussing with her hair and makeup, she headed downstairs again, to the den, and settled down with a steaming mug of crème brûlée–flavored indulgence and a book, hoping the caffeine would help her stay awake.

  An hour later—early by Drako’s standards—she heard a key slide into the back door’s lock. It disengaged with a metallic snick, and the door swung open with a creak. Rin fluffed her hair, took a pose that she hoped was more sex kitten than street whore, and quickly slicked on some lip gloss.

  His footsteps signaled his approach. Closer, closer. It was hell trying to pretend to be completely engrossed in the book she held in her slightly trembling fingers.

  “You’re still awake?” His voice was a little deeper than normal, rougher.

  “I . . . couldn’t sleep. This book”—she looked up—“is riveting.” He looked different too, but she couldn’t say what exactly had changed. His hair was maybe a little messier, his clothes not quite so crisply starched anymore.

  Or was it his eyes?

  Yes, that was it.

  A little shiver swept up her spine. There, in the darkest part of his eyes, was that spark, the one she’d seen the first time they’d met, and then again the first night they’d made love.

  “Riveting, you say?” His gaze traveled her full length, from her head down to her feet and back up again. “Nice pajamas.”

  “They’re new.”

  “Mmmm.”

  Oooh, she liked how he’d said that. The low vibrations seemed to travel through her body, making her feel bold and sexy. She also liked how he was devouring her with his eyes. Slowly, she set the book aside and stood, relishing the rising color in his face and neck.

  Earlier, she’d felt distanced from him, almost powerless to change things, but not anymore. How many times had she read or heard that women had the upper hand over men? She’d never believed it—until this moment. Right now, she watched her husband struggle to maintain the cool, semidetached mien he clung to with such fierce determination.

  Make him lose control with desire. You did it once. You can do it again.

  When one shoulder of the frothy white gown slipped down her shoulder, she didn’t catch it up and move it back into place. Instead, she shifted her shoulders to let the lace strap move lower, so that a good part of one breast was exposed to her husband’s increasingly feral gaze.

  “I’m your wife,” she reminded him. “Yours to take. Whenever you want. I’m not going to stop you.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “You did make it clear you want children.”

  “Yes, I did.” He didn’t move closer.

  “Then why—?”

  She didn’t get the chance to finish her question. One second, he was standing in the center of the den, the next he was dragging her to her feet. His lips claimed hers with fiery, heated hunger. His tongue swept into her mouth, filling it with his sweet flavor. And his hands found her hips, pulling them snuggly against him.

  At the feel of the rigid rod pressing against her stomach, and the passion of his kiss, Rin melted. Her thoughts became liquid, thin and unsubstantial, impossible to hold on to. They flowed from her mind in pulsing waves as carnal heat pounded through her body.

  Yes, this wa
s right.

  More.

  She crushed herself against him, hungry for his heat, his touch. There were too many clothes between them. She needed to feel the heated satin of his skin beneath her fingertips. The torturously decadent abrasion of his chest hair over her nipples.

  Between her legs, heat had gathered. Pulsing, tingling need. It was growing, building, moving out from her center like a churning storm cloud.

  “Drako,” she whispered against his lips as she rocked her hips forward, pressing her aching pussy against his leg.

  He answered with a low, rumbling growl, lifted her off her feet, only to set her back on the couch. With eyes glimmering, he unfastened his pants and shoved them down, exposing slender hips and that full, thick erection. A droplet of precum glistened on the ruddy head, a bead of sweet temptation she didn’t have the strength to ignore. Sitting upright, she took his rod in her hands and coaxed him closer until her nose filled with the scent of male hunger and soap. When she took him in her mouth, she was rewarded with another of those deep, growling moans.

  He curled his fingers in her hair, taking two fists full. And he tugged, not too hard, just hard enough, pulling her away from him. His cock slid out of her mouth. But she was hungry for another taste and leaned forward again, taking him deeper, relishing his flavor as his skin glided over her tongue. Ambrosia.

  Again, he pulled her back, and again she rocked forward, over and over in a steady rhythm, her tongue a cushion for his length.

  Although she was burning inside, her blood simmering, her muscles—every single one—pulled taut as piano wires, she didn’t have the strength of will to stop herself. Her husband did. She whimpered when he moved out of her reach, dropping on his knees. Before she could bend down and fist his cock, he forced her knees apart and cupped her pussy in his palm.

  “Ohhhhh,” she murmured as she fell backward. The pressure was divine, but it was only a tease, and she was beyond the point of enduring the torture.

  Thankfully, he seemed to have read her mind. No sooner had she dragged in a shallow gulp of air than his fingers filled her pussy. Now, she teetered on the border between heaven and hell. She needed more. More kisses. Caresses. Strong arms enfolding her. A thick, hard cock filling the pounding emptiness.