Darkness Unveiled

by Emerson Knight

  Unable to meet the judgment in her gaze, I squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. She doesn’t understand. My people were dying, waiting for me to save them, and so far my only hope for a lead seemed to have gone underground. The meeting with the vamps had brought my anger and frustration to a head and now my carefully constructed control over my impulses was disintegrating. We remained in uncomfortable silence until I finally conceded. “I care,” I whispered, swallowing my pride. “I care very much whether she lives or dies.” Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Winter’s mangled body. And Marko’s. And Joan’s. I saw much of my pack, wounded, waiting for me to help them.

  There was nothing more I could say, and Sky remained quiet for the rest of the drive. A few minutes later I parked in her driveway and made a point to open her door. She frowned at my offered hand, finally accepting my assistance as a courtesy. The cool feeling of her skin reminded me once more of that moment we had shared together. As I led her to the door, I scanned the bushes, the yard, and the neighborhood for signs of trouble, but it seemed a typical, quiet night. She hesitated at the door, presumably waiting for me to leave, but I wasn’t going to go until she was safe inside Josh’s ward that protected her home.

  “Did you forget how to disarm the ward?” I asked.

  “Would it matter if I did?” She frowned up at me. “Aren’t you able to break them?”

  A year ago she’d witnessed my dismantling of Josh’s magical field. While I eventually convinced him to accept my excuse, she remained unrelenting in her pursuit for answers. I didn’t feel like explaining myself then, and I wasn’t going to explain myself now. Some secrets needed to remain so. I steadied my heart rate, my respiration, then gave her a diplomatic smile. “I suspect you could, too, if necessary. All wards can be broken or disarmed by someone, even the ones created by my brother. His magic is strong, but not indestructible.”

  She tried to pick out my lie, but I was far too practiced for her. Eventually she sighed, disarmed the ward, and opened the door. I walked in behind her, uninvited, and began checking the house, going from room to room, checking the closets and windows. To my annoyance, I discovered an assortment of Steven’s clothes draped over the bed and floor of the spare bedroom. A stack of pens and some of his college textbooks rested on the desk. In the bathroom, I found his travel kit open, the contents splayed haphazardly around the sink. I scowled, shaking my head at the inappropriateness. When I returned to the living room I found her scrutinizing me. As I found my eyes roaming over the curves of her body beneath her dress, I couldn’t help imagining my hands sliding around her hips and pulling her into me.

  For the last year, I had kept my distance from her—for her good and for mine—but that caution seemed to belong to another lifetime. She grew suddenly self-conscious beneath my attention, running a hand over her dress as if smoothing a wrinkle, or hiding a nonexistent flaw. She really had no idea how attractive she was. I glanced at her purse on the table next to her and saw the protruding hilt of a knife and the butt of a wooden stake. Sky was a compelling contradiction. She began wringing her hands, glancing nervously about, but her heart betrayed her. She was as attracted to me as much as I was to her, but she was fighting it.

  “You’re a very pretty woman,” I said.

  She gave me a sideways look.

  As if compelled to her, I slowly approached until our bodies were nearly touching, her eyes staring up into mine. Her lips parted as I leaned closer. This is wrong, I thought, unable to help myself. I was betraying everything I wanted for her, all the reasons I’d kept my distance for the last year. I was pulling her deeper into a world I knew she didn’t want. Our lips nearly brushed when I barely managed to turn away. Until Sky, I’d never found a need to control my desires. With Chris, my desires made me vulnerable; with Sky, my desires made her life dangerous.

  Like an anxious teenager, I focused my attention on the first distraction available—the artwork that decorated her wall. They were tasteful pieces, purchased from my godmother’s gallery. Each piece represented a failed effort to purchase the one painting my godmother refused to part with.

  Leave.

  Instead, I shrugged off my jacket and laid it across the sofa. “What do you have to drink?” She stared at me, confused. I tried again, careful to soften my tone. “Do you have anything to drink?”

  She gave a short shake of her head before gathering herself and reluctantly walking into the kitchen to rummage the fridge. “Water, apple juice, orange juice … Wait … Steven finished that off…. Cranberry juice.”

  I scowled. My jaw clenched until I forced it to relax. “Do you have anything stronger?”

  “Cabernet and this,” she announced, holding up a bottle of that she found atop the fridge. “It was a gift for my birthday.”

  “Let me guess—Josh?” I chuckled. “My brother gave you a bottle of his favorite brand of Scotch on your birthday. That’s my brother. I’ve received that same gift every year since he turned twenty-one.”

  Sky fetched two tumblers from a cabinet, dropped a pair of ice cubes into one, then filled the other completely before pouring the Scotch, barely covering the ice. Smiling, I took the bottle and filled the rest of her glass, which wasn’t much more considering the amount of ice present.

  I felt her discomfort as we stood beside each other at the nook, sipping Scotch. For once, I wasn’t sure what to say. Finally, it was Sky who interrupted the silence. “Can Demetrius be trusted?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “He’s an egotistical bastard and will cooperate with anyone that can help find the person responsible for the attacks. Right now, his arrogance is the only thing I trust and the only thing we can count on.”

  While she was prone to trusting creatures like Quell, who were far more dangerous than she realized, she at least had a healthy distrust for Demetrius. He had, after all, tried to murder her. She was learning, but not fast enough, I feared.

  “Your help during this situation has been greatly appreciated and it will not be forgotten.” I glanced down into my empty glass, reminding myself that I should go home, but I didn’t want to leave. When I looked up to meet her gaze, her resolve faltered. She took a nervous drink as I said, “You can walk away now.” From the pack. From me. “No one will think any less of you if you do.”

  She choked on the Scotch. I did my best not to laugh as she fought to clear her throat. It was at least a minute before she could respond. “I would …” She coughed again. “I would think a lot less of myself if I walked away without doing what I could to help find out who did this to Winter.”

  “Skylar, consider this fair warning,” I said, wanting her to understand. “If you keep getting involved with pack business, you’ll find yourself so heavily entwined that becoming untangled will be impossible. The life you want, the normality you desire, will no longer be an option.”

  She slid her tumbler away from her onto the counter, glaring up at me with darkening green eyes. “Do you ever just give people friendly advice?” she snapped. “Does everything you say have to be a ‘fire-and-brimstone’ type warning with growls, snarls, and impending doom?”

  I emptied my Scotch in one final gulp, slapped the tumbler onto the counter, then slipped my hand around her waist and pulled her firmly against me. I inhaled her scent as I brushed my lips against her ear, her soft curls brushing my forehead. “Here’s your friendly advice,” I whispered, my tone sharper than before—that was what it took to get through to her. She had to understand the stakes before she chose me, or the pack. “You were given a choice whether or not to join us, and you made it—and it was a wise one. If you stay involved when you have the chance to bow out gracefully, then you may no longer have that option—that is not wise. Go back to your so-carefully constructed normal life.”

  She pushed herself back out of my arms and I saw the wolf in her rising to the surface as if I’d threatened her. “I think you got your ‘friendly advice’ voice mixed up with your ‘fire-and-brimstone’ voi
ce,” she said coldly. “You should work on that.”

  I met her gaze evenly. “That was my friendly advice, Skylar.” She was at a crossroads that could forever alter the path of her life. To be less than honest would be a disservice to her. She deserved better.

  “I thank you for that. You won’t be offended if I ignore it?”

  “I wouldn’t ignore it if I were you.”

  “Are we watching the same channel? I can’t go back to normal. The moment you all came into my life, it was changed. Normal—faked or otherwise—is no longer an option for me!”

  She glared at me, her stubbornness in full bloom while I tried to drill some sense into her skull through sheer will. We stayed like that, two forces of nature colliding, until she finally tried another tack. “Turning my back on this world is turning my back on Steven, Joan, and even Winter. I can’t do that.”

  I glanced down for a moment, just long enough to steel myself to do what was necessary. Even though she wanted to, she would never walk away—not without being pushed. She was fiercely loyal, and I should’ve known that she would never willingly leave us. Had Sebastian known, when he instructed Winter and Steven to stay close to Sky? Had he been banking on her loyalty to draw her in the rest of the way? There was only one thing I could do for her now, and I dreaded it. I had to break that loyalty. I had to use her fierceness against her. When I met her eyes again, I was resolute. Steadily holding her gaze, I slowly backed her into the counter. “You seem to have a hard time turning your back on my brother and his magic as well. You’re not just staying in this world. You’re stomping around and making as much noise as possible while you’re in it, and it is being noticed and drawing attention that you don’t need.”

  “Attention from whom?”

  When I didn’t answer, she blew out an exasperated breath.

  “You asked me not to join your pack and I didn’t. What more do you want from me?”

  She flinched when I touched her cheek—driving a stake into my heart—but it had to be so. Knowing this was the last time I would touch her, I slowly traced my finger along her jawline. “You asked for friendly advice. I gave it. Walk away from it all. There is nothing here for you.”

  I turned and walked to the couch, picked up my jacket, and left without turning back.

  CHAPTER 5

  The drive home seemed torturously long. No matter how many times I told myself it was for her own good, the memory of Sky flinching at my touch, of the anger—hatred, perhaps—darkening her green eyes remained like a fresh wound. I considered opening up the Porsche’s six-cylinder twin-turbo boxer engine on the interstate, but I’d already pushed my luck. Once home, I changed into loose jeans and a black t-shirt, then poured myself a double Scotch and downed it in one gulp, relishing the sensation as the alcohol burned the back of my throat, then warmed my belly. I closed my eyes for a moment and saw Sky once more, flinching. I poured another double. The tumbler was an inch from my lips when I heard the rumble of an engine outside. Through the closed curtains, I saw sweeping headlights turn into my driveway before the vehicle came to a casual stop. The engine died, taking the lights with it. I glanced at my phone. It was 11:13 p.m., and no messages or calls. If someone had come looking for a fight, they were welcome, but this was hardly the sudden entrance of a surprise attack.

  I heard the double-click of a car door open, followed after some hesitation by the creak of metal and the corresponding clunk of the door shutting. Sky? I half-smiled as I set the Scotch onto the counter. Not likely. Listening carefully, I heard the ambling tick of a single pair of boots climbing the porch.

  Peering through the peephole of the door—the side of my boot braced against the bottom of the door as a precautionary measure—I found Chris on the porch, composing herself. I hesitated, as surprised by her presence as by her apparent discomfort. She knocked once and waited while I considered whether I wanted to hear what she had to say. As far as I was concerned, she’d made her choice when she’d walked out on me over a year ago. Our relationship had been passionate, but chaotic. I’d become so engulfed in my passion for her that my work for the pack had suffered. There was nothing left to talk about, but I couldn’t resist the curiosity. I had already lived through one train wreck tonight; perhaps I needed another.

  She knocked once more, frowning. Only when she appeared to give up, turning to leave, did I open the door, catching her by surprise. My eyes roved over her tight jeans and the light purple shirt that clung to the curves I knew intimately.

  “What do you want?”

  “We need to talk,” she declared, less than thrilled as she tried to walk past me.

  I shifted, blocking her. “We’ve said enough.” Go back to Demetrius.

  She stared at me a moment, head cocked in disbelief, then tried once more, as if I would simply bend to her will. I placed a palm over her stomach, gently stopping her. Her eyes narrowed accusingly at my hand, but I held it there until I was certain she wouldn’t try again. This is no longer a home to you.

  “We really should talk,” she insisted.

  I scowled, questioning my judgment for answering the door. For a moment, I considered carrying on our conversation from the porch, but it was getting late. Begrudgingly, I stepped aside with a low grunt, allowing her to stroll into the living room as if she belonged there. Her lips thinned, hiding a frown as she failed to find anything recognizable. Since she had walked out on me, I’d changed everything. I crossed my arms, watching with smug satisfaction while her scrutinizing gaze roamed over the comfortable, cognac-colored Italian leather sofas that dominated the living room, along with a pair of deep mahogany tables. She frowned at the cream cocktail ottoman—either that or the rich Persian rug beneath it that protected the hardwood floor. The bronze lamps that dotted the room on small dark tables didn’t seem to earn her approval, either. A glance into the kitchen proved that the wholesale changes extended beyond the living room.

  Eventually, Chris turned to face me, her hands on her hips. Instead of getting on with it, she waited. Her lips parted and I found myself momentarily lost, remembering the softness of them pressed against mine in a mad desire as our bodies had melded into each other, as if we’d momentarily become one being. I shifted, drawing my attention to the present. That was the danger with Chris. She hadn’t come to seduce me, but she wasn’t above stirring some desire she could manipulate. I turned my attention to the wall behind her. “What exactly do we need to discuss?” I asked, taming the earlier edge in my voice. The sooner she had her say, the sooner she was gone.

  “Are we going to have problems working together?”

  The audacity! I gave her a wan smile as a litany of past grievances flooded my thoughts. “Will I have a problem working with my ex-lover who threatened to kill me and my brother? A woman who attempted to kidnap a person who was under my pack’s protection, in order to help the vampires perform a ritual that would have left them invincible—a true threat to me and my pack. What do you think?” Turning the tables, I stepped into her space with a single stride. My eyes were inches from hers as she looked up to me, but she held her ground, expertly disguising her discomfort behind a mischievous smile.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. We might as well lay all the cards on the table. Can I trust that you aren’t still holding a grudge?”

  “What’s the matter? Is Chris having trouble determining who she can trust? Who will betray her, the vampire she’s feeding and doing—well, let’s just leave that up to the imagination―or the man she used to sleep with? What a dilemma she’s gotten herself into.”

  “It’s not a dilemma,” she snapped, sidestepping to put some distance between us—a clever way to hide her retreat, but her respirations betrayed her fear. “Are you going to be petty, or are you going to get over it?”

  “Me not ‘getting over’ you trying to kill my brother and me is far from petty—”

  “If I’m not mistaken, you threatened to hunt me down like an animal and kill me. Rumor has i
t”—she choked off a rush of emotion—“that you were quite devoted to your search. I can’t help but think that if you had found me, you would have carried out your threat.”

  You left me no choice.

  “You are taking it personally,” Chris insisted. “Don’t. It was a job.”

  That’s always your excuse, but there are limits. “Then hunting you like an animal was just an occupational hazard. You shouldn’t take that personally.”

  “I need to know whether or not I can count on you when we are out in the field. I don’t want to have to watch my back for fear you will have a personal vendetta to settle.”

  I didn’t have a vendetta to settle, but I made a show of giving the question some considerable thought while I suppressed my anger. Bygones, I thought sardonically. “We’re fine.”

  She nodded once, relieved. “Good. I already assured Demetrius of that, but I needed to hear it from you.”

  My eyes narrowed as I shook my head. You just can’t stop poking, can you? I uttered a sound somewhere between a cynical chuckle and a grunt. “It’s good to know that you two are able to talk about business between your extracurricular activities,” I snapped, immediately regretting the outburst. I needed to let her go. I needed to not care. When we’d been together, we’d been a mess. I backed a few steps away from her, slipping my hands into my pockets in an effort to contain myself. I leaned against the wall, studying her.

  Shaking her head at me, she started to pace, then stopped herself, but she couldn’t hide the subtle twitch of her lower lip, the twisting of her wrist, or the shift of weight in her hips. While she was still making up her mind what to say next, I asked, casually, “Why did you leave me?”

  She was the only woman who had.

  Her eyebrows rose—I’d caught her by surprise. Two years since she had walked out and she still didn’t have an answer. She struggled for a reply, leaving my gaze to roam her figure once more as my anger and frustration devolved into memories of our primal passion. She watched me, uncertain as I slowly closed the distance between us until I felt the heat of her body against mine. I gently touched the gemstone of the necklace that rested above her cleavage, then turned my wrist and lightly drew a single knuckle up along the slope of her neck, caressing her skin, until I found the smooth curve of her cheek. The softness of her skin brought back even more carnal memories that threatened to overwhelm me. Her eyes closed as she surrendered to my touch.