Darkyn's Mate (#3 Rhyn Eternal) Page 2

  “Spread the word,” he snarled.

  “Yes, my lord,” the demon said in a hushed voice.

  Deidre opened her eyes, distracted by the flow of cool magic from Darkyn into her. The remaining demon stumbled away. Her eyes dropped to what was left of the other three then flew up to the wall.

  “Go,” Darkyn ordered and released her.

  Deidre didn’t face him, afraid of what she’d see. She stepped over the dead demon between her and the stairwell without looking directly at the bloody mess. He’d told her not to run, but she found herself sprinting as soon as she was free of the dead demons. She fled up the stairs and down the hallways she’d memorized on her trip to the library.

  She pushed her door open and slammed it shut. The demon blood on her face and arms disgusted her, just like the sight of the ease with which Darkyn shredded three demons with bodies like humans. But it was the thrum of magic lingering within her that disturbed her most.

  It was the same thrum she felt with Gabriel, after she’d been claimed as his mate. Instead of Gabriel’s warm energy, this one was Darkyn’s cool energy, the soul-deep connection to a demon horrifying her. Would it be as strong as hers had been to Gabriel, where she’d ached for him to touch her, no matter how little sense it made?

  No. It couldn’t be. It was probably just Darkyn’s magic, which he used to kill the demons. The alternative – that her own body was about to betray her to the devil – wasn’t something she could handle. She felt overheated already, like she did when she was starting to get a cold.

  Her gaze went to the bed. She’d never thought about how long Darkyn might wait to claim his mate by Immortal law in that way. Gabriel gave her space. Something told her Darkyn wasn’t so considerate.

  She wiped blood from her face and crossed to the small bathroom off the bedroom. She was no closer to food, but she could at least drink water out of the sink. Her mouth was dry.

  Deidre grimaced at the sight of blood on her arms. She cleaned them off with hands that trembled from the confrontation. One question was answered: Darkyn was obligated to protect her in some way. He didn’t do so out of the kindness of his heart. She cleaned up and left the bathroom, freezing.

  Darkyn stood beside the hearth. Deidre swallowed hard. The sense she was falling ill grew stronger. Her skin was clammy, her forehead hot.

  Her eyes were riveted to his frame in a way that warned her the bond she’d felt with Gabriel was now with this creature. Just under six feet tall, wide-shouldered and lean, Darkyn’s youthful appearance was framed by short, dark hair. His eyes were blacker than Gabriel’s, and his plain features deceptive. He didn’t look like the threat she knew him to be.

  “As my mate, you have the ability to draw off my power. Anything you ask of Hell, it will do,” he said.

  She wasn’t expecting the information.

  “Try to summon human food,” he directed.

  Not at all certain what he meant, she was hungry enough to test his claim. She willed a cheeseburger to appear. One did on the mantle above the fire. Deidre stared at it.

  An odd sense entered her mind, dulling her senses. The cheeseburger was quickly forgotten. She shook her head. She almost felt as if she was … drugged? Her thoughts weren’t entirely hers.

  Darkyn extended his hand, drawing her from the thoughts before it was able to form fully. A small hourglass with black sand was in his palm. Sand had already begun to trickle into the bottom.

  Deidre approached him with trepidation, stopping only close enough to reach out and take the hourglass.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “When the sand runs out, your deal with Past-Death is finished.”

  Her eyes flew up in shock that he knew about her plan to get Gabriel back. She clenched the hourglass, waiting for him to explode.

  “It was a clever deal,” Darkyn said, approving.

  She searched his face, uncertain how to take his response.

  “I’m counting on you winning,” he added. “The deal of my mate is sealed with my magic. It would not be seeming for the first deal of my mate to be a loss.”

  Fear fluttered through her. If Darkyn wanted her to win, what had she forgotten to add to the terms, so she won? Not Past-Death, not Darkyn. She wanted to win, so she could return to Gabriel. She was missing something.

  Or he was already a step ahead. Zamon’s conversation with her about Darkyn tricking his predecessor left her feeling like she walked into a trap when she made the deal with Past-Death.

  “Come here.”

  The parting words of Fate’s short visit the day before were all that kept her from flipping out. He’d said she had a chance not only to leave, but also to help save Gabriel’s life, if she did exactly as Darkyn said.

  Comforted by Fate’s words, Deidre obeyed Darkyn’s order with trepidation but no hesitation, assuming he meant to drink from her again. His nearness rattled her senses in a way that reminded her of how she felt around Gabriel. She swallowed hard, willing herself to remember that she was meant for Gabriel, even if it was Darkyn’s name on her back.

  The heaviness of her mind grew, until she wasn’t certain why she should resist Darkyn in the first place. She was fighting a fever, one that made it hard for her to focus.

  “No demon should ever harm you again. But, if an Immortal or human or deity corners you, and you aren’t able to summon me, you need to know how to defend yourself,” Darkyn started. His voice was the only thing that penetrated the haze coating her thoughts. “I’ll show you how to kill the simplest way possible.”

  As he spoke, he peeled off his shirt to reveal a whip-like, muscular upper body coated by a thin layer of tan skin. Gabriel’s body was built for power; Darkyn’s was crafted for agility. He tossed his shirt on the chair behind her. He reclaimed the hourglass from her and set it on the mantle of the fireplace. When he took her hand, she almost cried.

  She didn’t want to be attracted to him, to feel the fire in her blood and the calm at her core when he touched her. She was too aware of the expanse of his chest, the heat of his closeness, the strange fog that grew thicker in her mind.

  “I prefer to kill painfully,” he said. “You probably do not. Have you ever killed anyone?”

  “No. I’ve never even hit anyone.”

  He assessed her for a moment before continuing. “To kill a man, Immortal or demon fast, touch him here.” He placed her hand at his neck.

  Worse than seeing him was feeling him. His skin was smooth and warm, stretched taut over an athletic body. The Dark One felt like a man.

  “Or here,” he said and moved her hand to his chest. “Also, instant death.”

  She flattened her palm against the spot over his heart. His hand fell away, but hers remained. He had a heartbeat, one that reverberated through her as if it was her own. She wasn’t able to reconcile the creature that turned her Immortal with the man before her.

  “How?” she managed, needing to focus on something other than him. She ran her tongue over her gums then licked her lips. Despite the water, her mouth was dry and aching almost to the point of pain.

  “You will them to die-dead. As my mate, you are able to use a limited amount of my power,” he explained. “Try it. Will me dead.”

  Her attention shifted to the hand over his heart. He felt too real. She hadn’t been able to break up with a boyfriend she was sick of for fear of hurting his feelings. She couldn’t kill anyone.

  She shook her head.

  “You turn down a chance to kill the Dark One?”

  She almost screamed at herself. He wasn’t a man. He was the creature who trapped her in Hell. The thought of hurting him made the hand she pressed to his heart tremble. It wasn’t anger she felt towards him but … hunger.

  He smelled like a heady mix of male musk and something so faint and sweet, it made her want to press her face to the skin of his chest for a better smell. It was this compulsion that was like a drug weighing down her thoughts and making her hungry, like walking past a ba
kery first thing in the morning and trying not to look at what was in the window. His solid frame and heat were creeping into her senses, tugging at her resolve to resist.

  He stood at ease before her, unconcerned with teaching her to kill then exposing himself to death at her hands. She couldn’t bring herself to try, just like she couldn’t remove her hand. His body was covered with faded scars that fascinated her, made her want to trace the lengths of them with her fingers then her tongue.

  She’d experienced one night with an Immortal mate, and it was the most incredible night of her life. What would it be like to run her hands over Darkyn’s lean frame the way she had Gabriel’s, to feel his sharp teeth nip the delicate skin of her inner thighs and breasts? What pleasure would it bring if he drank from her while making love to her?

  The erotic visions in her head made heat bloom in her lower belly and the fire of desire spread in her blood.

  Deidre struggled against the sensations. She needed control of her own mind back, but the feverish fog was too thick.

  Was what she felt for Gabriel nothing more than destiny and Immortal laws she knew nothing about? Was she destined to feel that for Darkyn, despite knowing what he was? Was there no choice in who she loved?

  “No,” she said out loud. “It can’t be true.”

  “The laws from the time-before-time are absolute. They are the only ones,” Darkyn’s growl was unusually soft, almost a purr. “Past-Death fucked you over by letting you experience another mate first, when you were meant for me alone.”

  “No,” she said. “This is…this is temporary.” She dropped her hand and prayed the sensations within her left.

  “How certain are you that what you feel is not real?”

  Deidre met his gaze. He always knew how to read her. He had since they first crossed paths in the shadow world, when he offered her a choice: to cure the inoperable brain tumor killing her or to outright kill her before she declined, whichever outcome she preferred.

  His gaze was penetrating and direct, stirring desire and fear within her. His features were masculine and strong. His nose bore the appearance of having been broken and set incorrectly more than once. Where Gabriel was always clean-shaven, Darkyn’s strong jaw was shaded by a day or two of growth, lending danger to his appearance. His fangs were long, his eyes burning with more than hunger.

  “Certain enough to make me a deal?” He touched her, his hand settling on her arm. Her breath caught. Cool energy worked its way into her. The simple, purposeful touch reinforced what she already knew. This was too similar to what she physically felt towards Gabriel to be anything other than the Immortal bond that branded Darkyn’s name across her shoulders.

  If she could only think straight for a few seconds! But her thoughts were falling under the control of something else.

  “It’s not fair,” she whispered in a choked voice.

  “It is the nature of the mating rite. You were never meant to belong to Gabriel. It took me too long to find Past-Death’s soul. You almost waited too long to seek me out for a deal,” he said. “A few more days, and even I wouldn’t have been able to undo what Wynn did.”

  Had the deity Fate betrayed her like everyone else did? His advice had been to give in to Darkyn. Why try to help her, if he knew her destiny already?

  “You’re trying to trick me again,” she said with resolution.

  Darkyn cupped her cheek with one hand, the cool energy spreading as his thumb rubbed her cheek lightly. She shuddered at the contact. With his other hand, he removed the slender collar he had placed around her neck when she arrived. It dissipated.

  The odd scent was closer, and she found herself breathing in deeply to try to capture it.

  “Think about it. When you win your deal with Past-Death, there’s no requirement for her to be rendered dead-dead at the end of the week. She may live an eternity, even if her soul comes to you eventually,” Darkyn explained. “Gabriel cannot kill his own mate. It’s against the Immortal laws. Which begs the question: What happens to you in one week?”

  It was the same question she’d been asking herself. She didn’t know the answer. She was terrified to find out. As he spoke, he continued the light stroke of one thumb and trailed a finger down the side of her face and traced her jaw. A line of cool fire remained. His touch went down the side of her neck, lingered on her collarbone then continued down her arm. Mesmerized by the sensations, her confusion and his direct gaze, she had to concentrate hard to register what he said.

  “I, um, don’t know,” she murmured then shook her head. “I mean, this is temporary. It won’t happen that way.”

  Darkyn’s hand rested on her hip. He drew her against him. Deidre found herself leaning into his solid frame without resistance, entranced by the combination of his hot, hard body and cool fire on her swimming senses. The faint, sweet scent was close. Calling to her. Tugging at her ability to reason.

  She nuzzled the hand cupping her cheek, and his thumb traced her lips. He lifted her hand to his heart. Instinctively, she flattened her palm against his chest once more to feel his heartbeat. It was the opposite of hers: calm, steady, strong.

  “You don’t sound certain enough to make a deal with me.”

  “I … I’m not sure why I should.”

  Touching him felt too natural. He was saturating her senses, seducing her somehow. She’d walked away from Gabriel, because he all-but-pushed her away. Darkyn’s intentions were the opposite. He was using the truth to hammer down her resistance and his power to seduce her. She didn’t expect it; she expected him to lie rather than point out the flaws in her desperate logic.

  The fog around her thoughts grew heavier.

  Waiting for him to snap or yell as he had when she arrived to Hell, she touched him timidly with her other hand to begin exploring the ridges of the scars on his chest.

  “Touch me, taste me, scratch me, bite me,” he whispered. “You can’t be too rough for me.”

  “You can be for me,” she said uneasily.

  “I made you a deal. I know how to give pleasure without pain.” By the distaste in his voice, he wasn’t happy about it. “I won’t hurt you, unless you ask me to.”

  Her hands ceased quivering as she ran them across his chest, over his firm shoulders and shapely arms before returning to his chest.

  “Yes or no, love?” he purred. “Will you take your place in my bed as my mate?”

  “You won’t wait a week?” she asked.

  “Only if you make me a deal.”

  She groaned. The same instincts that warned her against the last deal with him told her she’d never win any bet with the devil

  “I’ll give you the terms first this time. You can gauge the risk.” He chuckled, a sinister sound. “You can fuck me here, now, the way mates should. Or, when you lose our deal, you can fuck the Dark One.” He nuzzled her neck, and she tilted her head. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin without biting.

  “Oh, god,” she breathed. No part of her was willing to risk an encounter with Darkyn’s other form. The world around her was dark around its edges. The fever had taken her out of her mind and into the alternate reality of a dream.

  Except, when he touched her, it felt real again.

  Unable to exit the dream fully, Deidre had no concept of how long they stood before the black flames of the fire.

  “Choose.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Rather than drink from her, he kissed her. Unlike Gabriel, who was gentle, teasing, Darkyn was demanding. Deidre felt herself breathless and consumed before the end of their first kiss, yielding to the intensity of his kiss and the firmness of his touch. He slid her dress free, his hands moving over her body possessively before he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

  His body was solid and strong, the sensations of his skin against hers and his scents intoxicating her. She fell headfirst into his spell. True to his word, he was aggressive without hurting her. The nip of his fangs at her neck, inner thighs and breasts almost drove
her over the edge while his hot tongue and hands explored every part of her.

  She found herself nipping back at his chest and neck, something she’d never done before. The faint scent was there, pulling her. She was almost able to catch it before it fled her again. She tasted his skin, but it, too, wasn’t enough. She wanted something as elusive as the scent. He eased into her body at first then made love to her hungrily, relentlessly pushing her deeper into the haze of pleasure and desire, until she arched beneath him, her body on the verge of shattering.

  His fangs sank into her neck.

  This time, there was a combination of distant pain and pleasure as he bit her that almost pierced the hazy dream. Deidre gripped him, craving something she didn’t know how to ask him for. He drank deeply. The pain faded once more, and the experience became too dreamlike to be real.

  He lifted his head, whispering,

  “Bite me.”

  Lost in the heady sensations, Deidre wriggled and strained beneath him. He pinned her hands above her head to keep her still then whispered the command again. Desperately trapped by need unlike anything she’d ever known, she obeyed.

  She bit his neck gently, not wanting to hurt him despite the strange dream and hunger in her body screaming to be filled.

  “Harder.” Darkyn moved in and out of her slowly, taking her closer to her climax.

  Overwhelmed by the pleasure, Deidre bit him hard enough that she tasted him. Distant alarm was overwhelmed by need. This was what she smelled, what she ached to taste. The warm liquid in her mouth didn’t taste like blood; it was virtually flavorless, tainted by a sweetness hard to quantify. The consuming need to drink from him swept through her mind, dulling the rest of the world.

  “Drink.” His voice was hoarse, his body straining. He growled from low in his chest.

  Barely aware of anything outside of his commands, she obeyed. She pulled more of him into her, trying to identify the elusive flavor that left her intoxicated. He pulled away, and Deidre’s eyes fluttered open. He whispered words she wasn’t able to make out then bit her again, this time hard enough for the pain to piece her dreamlike stage.