Darkness Unleashed

by Belinda Boring

  Gruesome images from my nightmare taunted me, forcing bile to rise up my throat and into my mouth. Even now, remembering the lifeless bodies of Daniel, Lynn, April, and Wade brought a chill over my skin. All that blood and carnage—the air of our bedroom ripe with the scent of gore—it seemed so real that night.

  Maybe what you saw wasn’t merely a horrific dream, but a portent to the future. Your future. Your beloved Darcy . . . a psychotic killer.

  My wolf was the one to respond now, as a rage-filled growl erupted deep within me. We would rather die, first, than let that happen.

  We shall see then, the smug voice faded away, content with the damage it had inflicted.

  As great as my fear was, my determination and stubborn non-acceptance of the possibility was larger. I was Mason O’Connor—Alpha. I had faced steep obstacles, stared down savage challenges, and triumphed. I had the wisdom that came from experience, a heart that loved deeply, and a spirit that refused to cower. I had fought hard—desperately at times—for everything I held dear.

  I had dug deep and confronted my demons in the Heart and Death challenge that the Fates had required for a love I’d forgotten. There was no way in hell this would be any different from any of the other times I had to fight for my mate.

  Darcy was mine. I was hers. If it took my dying breath and the last drop of my blood to secure her safety, so be it.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  The sound of each passing clock stroke filled my ears, intensifying my impatience.

  Devlin’s voice broke through my distraction, giving me something else to focus on. “We’ll leave now. Have Helena there, as well. Maybe she can help shed some light on the situation, too.”

  “No!” I blurted out, startling both Devlin and Daniel with the degree of force I used. “Just Vivien. Right now, we don’t know what’s happening, so I want this to remain between the four of us. The people I trust impeccably.” He nodded before relaying my wishes.

  I couldn’t explain why I felt so strongly about excluding Vivien’s witch friend from our meeting, but I saw the importance with crystal clear lucidity. I’d disregarded my instincts—that uncomfortableness that had been prodding me over the past week or so. Never again.

  “Okay. She said there are some spells she can do, with or without Darcy being present. Obviously having her there would be best, but if something truly is controlling her, whatever it is may put up a struggle once it realizes that we suspect something.”

  “I’m not letting her out of my sight, Devlin,” I answered quickly. “We’ll restrain her, if needed.”

  “Do you want me to go get the silver cuffs?” Daniel asked. “It won’t affect her vampiric traits, but it should weaken the wolf in her.”

  The mention of her wolf made my chest tighten. The murkiness that surrounded Darcy’s conversion and her personality change started to become clearer and, at the same time, make heartbreaking sense.

  “That’s why she hasn’t shifted,” I whispered. The idea was too horrifying for words. “She kept resisting my encouragement. It wasn’t because she couldn’t, or because she was afraid she’d hurt her wolf.” I glanced between Devlin and Daniel, both of them reaching the same conclusion. I continued, “She knew if she shifted, her wolf would take over to protect both of them from whatever threat was occurring.”

  The implications were staggering.

  “If that’s the case, this is much bigger than anything we could imagine,” Devlin replied.

  “Damn,” Daniel muttered. “All this time . . .”

  “All this time.” I agreed. “We can’t waste a second more. I want this resolved. Now.” Rising from where I’d been sitting, I stalked toward the door. “Do whatever you need to prepare, but we leave as soon as I wake Darcy up. Daniel, go get the chains and meet me at my room. Devlin?”

  “I’ll follow shortly. I need to give a quick call to Zane.”

  With my fingers wrapped around the door handle, I nodded. “I understand. Let him know I’ll also call, once we know what’s going on. I know you owe your allegiance to him, but I have no idea what I’ll be facing when I enter my bedroom. Don’t take too long.”

  “I won’t.” His thumb was already pressing his phone’s screen, activating Zane’s speed dial.

  “Then let’s do this.” Taking a fortifying breath, I left my office with the feeling of impending doom.

  There was a small, slivered chance this was a mistake and I’d misunderstood her last night—that a few more days, more control of her blood lust and possible help from Devlin regarding her vampire nature, and this strange new personality would pass.

  But with each determined step, the more certain I became.

  Darcy was in danger.

  And time was running out.

  Chapter Two

  Amber

  The first thing I noticed as I woke up from a dead sleep was the incessant throbbing in my head. The second thing was that I was still in bed, covered by a soft, warm comforter.

  Considering the memories that came flooding back of my drunken display with Mason last night, I’d half expected to find myself handcuffed in chains or, at the very least, locked inside the silver cage I knew he had downstairs in the basement. I’d come so close to revealing all my secrets—telling him what I’d done to his precious Darcy.

  That bitch was in her own kind of prison right now and soon, soon she would no longer be the persistent presence inside her mind . . . my mind. She’d become the parasite feeding off its host, ever watchful as she struggled to find a way back in, so she could reclaim control.

  She thought she was so smart, but not this time. This time I would be triumphant. I’d win the guy. Mason would be all mine and there was nothing she could do about it. I’d made sure of it when Helena approached me with the plan that would give me everything I’d ever wanted.

  The ambitious witch had come with promises of power and a future filled with mayhem and incredible possibilities. She was working on behalf of someone greater—a threat whose entire goal was world domination—someone who had patiently waited for a chance to strike.

  I understood that kind of determination.

  I could appreciate the foresight it had taken to meticulously plot and envision every viable option and outcome.

  From the very second my father had introduced me to Mason O’Connor, the heir and sole son of the Mystic Wolves’ Alpha, I knew he had to become mine. I wouldn’t settle for mere trifles—a casual acquaintance or the pathetic, sniveling girl who loved and yearned for the guy of her dreams from afar.

  I saw him and knew that I wanted, needed, to become the one who stood by his side as he rose into the position for which he was being groomed. I saw great things in Mason.

  I envisioned even greater things for me.

  There would be no more standing in the shadows as other, less worthy wolves stepped forward and claimed the notoriety for which I was born. People were supposed to look to me with adoration and reverence. They were meant to come to me out of respect for the authority I held.

  Unfortunately, I was born a female; and from as early as I can remember, women were merely pawns to be pushed around on an invisible chessboard. We were bargaining chips in closed-door meetings. We were a means of acquiring loyalties, fealty, and safeguarding alliances.

  We weren’t supposed to want anything more than babies, home, and hearth.

  We were meant to be perfect—our only power coming from our willingness to lie on our backs and submit.

  But not me.

  I would never be that weak.

  I would never become the trophy wife my mother was.

  I would become Amber O’Connor, mate to the most powerful Alpha I’d ever encountered.

  And I’d almost blown it, in my impatience, by opening my huge mouth. Darcy was fading, her spirit unable to linger much longer without her body to anchor her to this world. It was surprising that she’d been able to hold on this long, but Helena had assured me that her time was running out an
d to enjoy the satisfaction of knowing I’d supplanted her.

  Why give the bitch a quick release when I could extend the torture?

  Helena had been right. The pleasure I felt as Darcy screamed and fought for her wolf to take over, once she realized she was helpless, was invigorating. I relished every feeble threat she uttered as she weakened. I rejoiced in that moment when I whispered she was dying, her soul diminishing with each breath I took.

  I positively vibrated with smugness the night Mason made love to me, taking what he needed from my body, turning to me for solace. Each kiss and blessed stroke as our bodies collided sent me spiraling toward me owning him, completely. As he worshipped my body with his hands and mouth, it made every sacrifice I’d made to be in his bed worth it.

  It told me that I’d made the right choice in placing my faith in an unknown stranger. In believing that Helena could make my wishes come true.

  After failing in my own attempts, I’d been desperate. She’d become like my fairy godmother and I was Cinderella.

  You’ll never get away with it. The voice was smaller this morning. Frail.

  I already have, I retorted confidently. Stretching my body, I smiled, realizing that I still remained unshackled. Your beloved Mason doesn’t even realize you’re gone.

  Gloat all you want. Darcy’s voice suddenly grew louder in my mind. But you will never be me. It doesn’t matter how many times he uses your body, that’s all it will ever be. Using. It will never be you he sees. Never be you he touches. Never be your name he calls out. It will always be mine.

  Shut up! I screamed as the truth pierced the bubble of denial I’d surrounded myself with.

  You will always be the pretender.

  He loves me!

  He loves me and I will hold his heart forever. You may kill me, but you will never win. You lost the moment you agreed to possess my body.

  Fury whipped up in a maelstrom of heated emotions within me. She was wrong. This was merely a last ditch attempt to strike at me—the defeated fighting against the inevitable.

  You lose. You’re dying. Mason is mine.

  Oh, Amber. Her voice was now tinged with sorrow. If he were, you would never have needed to do this.

  I blasted my own consciousness toward the space where Darcy watched helplessly, in an attempt to finally silence her. She was wrong; and soon she would be gone. It didn’t matter what she said or how she tried to unravel my beliefs, I was the one who held all the power, now, and the only response she deserved was my mocking laughter and scorn.

  Still in possession of my freedom, I needed to text Helena and see what was on today’s agenda. The time was fast approaching when all our careful preparations would pay off. All the magic, blood sacrifices, and deaths would unleash an unfathomable dark power. Stories were told through the community of past attempts to seize domination, but nothing like Helena proposed—the scale and immensity of the overall plan was beyond anything I could imagine.

  And I was a part of it. My reward: Mason. From what I understood, I was simply “holding” Darcy’s body . . . keeping it alive until the mastermind behind all this could take over. A new body would be found for me, which suited me just fine. If I never looked into a mirror and saw Darcy’s face staring back at me, I’d be happy.

  Mason was the prize I craved.

  He was why I’d gone to such extremes.

  For everything he put me through—making me beg and plead for him to choose me—I would revel in controlling him. He would become my puppet, finally understanding how his refusal to marry me and honor our betrothal had driven me from love to hatred. It was a thin line I danced.

  I loved him with everything I had.

  I also hated him with that same passion.

  Helena promised me that Mason would become a chess piece to maneuver. I’d seen the spell that would bend him to the will of the Master, the incantation that would also make him pliant and easier to manage.

  Oh, how the mighty would fall and the downtrodden rise.

  No more scrambling for scraps, Amber. I smiled, knowing all my secrets were worth keeping.

  With one more stretch, I pulled back the covers, sitting up before quietly padding over to the bathroom. I needed to know where the unsuspecting fool was, to confirm that he truly didn’t understand my slip-ups from last night. Once I saw for myself that he was still hopelessly clueless, I could contact Helena. I was sure there was more killing to be done today.

  Blood. Glorious blood spilling from wounds I’d inflicted.

  Just the thought triggered my hunger. The thirst from being part vampire was so intense that I could drown in the life-giving substance and never be satiated. Drinking as it flowed down my throat and stained my reddened lips . . . the sensation was glorious.

  Maybe I should request my new body be a vampire, I mused. The deal was to find me another wolf, but power was power. It would definitely help me keep Mason under my control if I could compel him. There was no way I would allow for any mistakes when it came to securing him as mine.

  He’ll never be yours. Darcy’s voice floated forward.

  He will! I responded angrily, glaring into the mirror that hung on the wall over the sink counter. Cocking back my fist, I didn’t think. I hated the reflection staring back, mocking me with her perfect features and green eyes, the face that Mason cherished. I slammed my hand into the glass, the impact sending cracks throughout the surface. Pain pulsed through me, but instead of wincing, I embraced it.

  Pain made me stronger.

  It made things clearer.

  It fueled my relentless obsession to get what I want.

  Darcy’s voice stilled and looking into the mirror, so was her flawless visage. Now she was distorted—ugly and fractured. Now she resembled what I’d done to her soul. With a sweet sense of triumph, I lightly fingered the jagged cuts—fascinated, momentarily, by the way none of the pieces fell. Blood drops slowly streaked across the back of my hand.

  Bringing it to my mouth, I licked each rivulet up, my gaze never leaving my reflection. I may see Darcy, but that glint of awareness staring back was me. I was there, peering out. I wasn’t as invisible as she made me feel.

  It was me who Mason saw when we made love. He looked into her eyes but saw me.

  I win, you bitch.

  With one last gloating smile, I turned away. I had things to do.

  Sooner rather than later, Darcy would be but a distant memory.

  ****

  “Darcy?” My heart thrilled at the sound of his voice.

  “I’m in here,” I answered back, putting on my game face. Standing inside the walk-in closet in just my bra and panties, he couldn’t have come at a better time. Helena had beat me to it, texting me while I’d been showering. Everything was going down tonight—the secret plotting finally coming to an end. I couldn’t think of a better way to enjoy a little pre-celebration than hot sex with my man before going out to perform a massacre.

  It didn’t bother me the way it should. I’d long ago accepted that I was different from others, that I was willing to do whatever it took to get what I wanted. One thing I’d learned was that many spoke the words and gave the promises, but very few were willing to back them up with action.

  That was the difference between hypocrites and me. I didn’t allow my conscience to corrupt me, to sway me from my true path in life. I refused to let some moral sense of right and wrong keep me from achieving my goals.

  Who was to say what was good, anyway? As far as I was concerned, I was good.

  Good at what I do.

  Good at my ability to switch it all off.

  You just aren’t good at being me.

  Darcy’s voice made me stumble ever so slightly, but not enough to throw me off my game. Reaching for a random t-shirt, my body was in full view as Mason walked in. I could see him pause from the corner of my eye, knowing what he was thinking without speaking a word.

  “You going out?” There was desire in his voice, a good sign that he didn’t su
spect.

  Turning around so he could have a better view, I smiled. “Yeah, I thought I’d go visit Vivien, see Helena before she returns home.” Tilting my head, I studied him carefully for any telltale reaction he didn’t believe me. “I want to thank her, again, for everything she’s done for us.”

  Mason stepped closer, but not as near as I would like. Leaning against the closet doorframe, he was sending mixed signals, his arms folded across his chest as he watched me back. He should’ve been standing right in front of me, unable to keep his hands off me, his mouth on my bare skin, his fingers peeling the lingerie from my body.

  There was desire in his eyes, however. His stare was too heated.

  Did he know or not?

  Not waiting for him, I closed the distance between us. “That is unless you have something else in mind?” Placing my palm lightly over his heart, he dropped his hands and shifted his stance. I looked up at him seductively, biting softly on my lip as I rose onto my tiptoes. “Something like this?”

  I brushed my mouth over his, the contact shooting waves of electricity through me. It was like this every time. My body’s reaction to Mason always infuriated me—the hunger he stirred within me paired with my knowing he didn’t feel the same.

  Until now, I murmured.

  “What?” His question caught me by surprise. I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud.

  “Nothing, lover.” Slipping my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, I kissed him again. Then I waited for it, waited for the moment the spark would catch and he would erupt into the passion I’d enjoyed while we were together recently. Mason was an incredible kisser, a master at playing me like a finely tuned instrument. He knew exactly how to hold and touch me—the right kind of pressure to apply that made my body thrum and sing.

  He was slow to encircle my waist with his arms, his tongue brushing ever so slightly over my lips but not pushing past to enter my mouth. Once upon a time, I would have thought he was toying with me, teasing my anticipation for what would follow. There was a hesitancy that was reminiscent of our first days together, like he was holding back until he was sure I wanted him as much as he wanted me.