Darkyn's Mate (#3, Rhyn Eternal) Page 9

She emerged into the hallway in front of Zamon’s library. Zamon didn’t look up as she entered.

  “Maybe we will get through another deity or two more today,” he said in a disgruntled voice.

  “I’m not having a good day, Zamon,” she grumbled back. She mentally envisioned his wings pink again.

  They turned colors in response. He gave her a harried look.

  “Very well. We are starting with Fate,” Zamon said. He tapped the Oracle book waiting where she left it. She sat down to watch, unhappy with how her morning had gone so far.

  A familiar face appeared from the words, the golden-skinned deity she nicknamed Mr. Checkmate the first time they met at the Immortal Sanctuary. Fate was as old as Darkyn. Instead of war in his background, there was peacemaking and diplomacy from the beginning.

  “Fate has been served by three deities, making it second oldest in existence,” Zamon started. “Fate is considered the weakest deity, which gives him unlimited access to all of the worlds. He also appears uninvited in your library at will.”

  She blinked, not registering the deity was behind her until he spoke.

  “I wouldn’t say weakest,” Fate mused. “Perhaps in the histories of the demons. In our histories, I’m king of the universe.”

  “You again,” Deidre groaned.

  “He comes here often,” Zamon muttered. “Normally to spy upon my records.”

  “I have no need to spy,” Fate replied. “There are a few creatures I’ve collected over the years that interest me. You are looking well, Zamon, for being a million years old. Pink is a good color on you.”

  Zamon ignored him. “Weakest, because he has no source of power.”

  “One might argue that manipulating the Future and unfettered access to the present provides more than enough influence.”

  “Perhaps he is simply lazy,” Zamon answered. “The more freewill Fate allows, the more depravity is created to feed the Dark One.”

  “It works both ways, demon.”

  Deidre laughed at the exchange, sensing a quasi-friendship as old as the two arguing.

  “I’m guessing Zamon didn’t tell you who he was,” Fate said, moving around the table. “Darkyn did not slay the Dark One. He simply forced him to retire.”

  “You?” she gasped, looking hard at Zamon.

  “The danger with Darkyn is dealing,” Zamon said.

  “And fighting. He’s the most incredible warrior you ever trained,” Fate added.

  “I trained my hatchling well.”

  As she watched, the ancient demon changed forms, turning into his human form, a handsome man in his prime. He was neither ancient nor ugly, with familiar dark eyes and hair and roughly hewn features. Unlike Darkyn, whose hair was short, Zamon’s long hair was captured in a braid. His smile didn’t reach his gaze but revealed fangs the size of Darkyn’s.

  “What’s a hatchling and what did you just do?” Deidre asked, standing in alarm. The strange calm she felt around Zamon remained, and she recalled more clearly Darkyn’s words about how the original Dark One lured in his prey.

  “A hatchling is what demons call their offspring,” Fate replied.

  “You’re Darkyn’s father,” she said, surprised.

  “I am. I simply took on a form that you would not find threatening,” Zamon answered. “Would you have entered my library if you saw me like this?” He motioned to himself.

  “No way,” she replied. “But you sent him into the middle of Hell for thousands of years. Did you want him to die?”

  “That was the plan,” Zamon replied. “I figured if he survived the worst Hell had to offer, he’d make a worthy successor. If not, no loss.”

  Darkyn’s assertion that demons didn’t have emotions almost seemed true. Deidre shook her head, once again feeling too far away from the reality these creatures lived in.

  “They are different creatures,” Fate said. “Zamon and I have always gotten along. Darkyn and me? Not exactly.”

  “Darkyn is a poised predator. He strikes where men are weak. He has no patience for your games. I invite them in for tea then steal their souls while they talk about the weather.” Zamon winked at her. “If you weren’t his, honey, I would’ve fucked you up the day you walked into my library.”

  First the videos then the confrontation with Gabriel, now this. It was turning out to be a horrible day.

  “Why did Darkyn let you live?” she asked in a strangled voice.

  “We made a deal,” Zamon replied with a grunt. “You should know the power of a deal with him by now.”

  “Yes,” she replied. “And the strength of a blood bond.”

  “Good,” Fate said, satisfied. “In two days your deal with Past-Death is up.”

  They both looked at her. She flushed, wondering how many people were interested in her fate. She seemed unable to keep secrets from anyone.

  “I know,” she said.

  “Darkyn loses no time claiming his victory,” Zamon said. “Brash young demon.”

  “You win,” Fate told Zamon.

  “You had a deal about me?” she asked with a frown.

  “Hell runs off deals,” Zamon replied. “Fate said he would conquer you, but you couldn’t conquer him. I said a creature who has never known peace will surrender unconditionally when he tastes it for the first time. Past-Death offered him a private deal before she died-dead and before my retirement.” His dark gaze was steady, cunning.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “She offered him something that was never before attainable. He is a fearless opportunist who has always wanted to be a god, and the deal was unofficial. If any part of it displeased him, he was able to cancel it. The terms were right,” Zamon continued.

  “Past-Death offered him me, the deity’s mate she created, the only chance he had for a mate like every other deity,” she said.

  “Yes,” Zamon said. “His lust for blood, war and women is insatiable. It made him powerful but drove him beyond madness and nearly destroyed my domain. Twice, though the first time is not common knowledge. Can you not see the appeal of a source of appeasement to a creature older than time?”

  “I can,” she replied.

  It was hard to imagine something that fed off depravity wanted peace. He’d pursued her with the cunningness he was known for. Their interactions weren’t what she’d generally considered normal, but she was able to see the moment Fate warned her of, when Darkyn decided to keep her. It was the night he provoked her and forced her to say the words that brought her world crashing down.

  I’m yours, Darkyn.

  “You’re his father. How did you lose your deal?” she asked Zamon.

  “He knew me better,” Zamon replied. “He was stronger.”

  “Wow. Okay,” she murmured, alarmed every time she learned more about why people feared Darkyn. “What did you win in your deal about me?”

  “Nothing but the satisfaction of victory,” Zamon said, grinning. “I am forbidden from creating deals with material outcomes.”

  “For my part, I simply wanted you to survive,” Fate told her.

  “Whatever,” she said and rolled her eyes at him.

  Deidre. The summons made her tense. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she saw the shadow world.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she said, dreading another interaction that got her in trouble with Darkyn yet grateful to flee the two creatures that were currently terrifying her. She called a portal when she stepped into the hallway to see who awaited her.

  Past-Death.

  Deidre hesitated then stepped into the in-between place. Past-Death’s features were pale, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was dressed comfortably in jeans and a light sweater. She looked far different than Deidre recalled. It wasn’t her physical appearance; it was the shimmer of uncertainty and worry around her, emotions the deity hadn’t been capable of.

  “Hello,” Deidre said.

  “Hello,” Past-Death replied. “My gods, what happened to you? D
arkyn turned you into a sex-demon?”

  “I guess if you give a man the ability to build his own mate, he’ll make her a tramp.” Deidre rolled her eyes.

  Past-Death gave a startled laugh.

  “You called me?” Deidre asked. She looked down and crossed her arms, chilled in the shadow world but also uncertain what to expect. Their first and only exchange hadn’t been pleasant. She was torn between anger and pity for Gabriel’s mate right now.

  “I guess I wanted to see how you’re faring.”

  Darkyn’s lie detector skill gave Deidre a tingling at the base of her skull that she took to be a red flag.

  “Weird, but good,” she replied. “You?”

  “You’re doing good.” Past-Death’s smile was puzzled. “I’m really glad to hear it.”

  “You mean surprised?” Deidre murmured.

  “No. I mean, yes, I am surprised, but I’m also glad,” Past-Death said. “I, uh, know now what I did wasn’t the best route to take. You must hate me.”

  “I don’t.”

  An awkward silence fell.

  “How can I help you?” Deidre asked. Past-Death’s smile faded. Deidre noticed the circles under her eyes, and her air was agitated. She could almost guess what was wrong but remained quiet.

  “I’m pretty sure no one can,” Past-Death admitted. She cleared her throat. “I’m failing miserably. Darkyn stripped my power when I left Hell. I thought it’d be easy. I mean you humans … I guess you make it look simple. You know I couldn’t figure out how to turn on the shower? I won’t tell you how fascinating I find kitchen appliances.”

  Deidre smiled. She’d never paid much attention to appliances but imagined they might be intriguing to someone who had never seen them before.

  “I’m just not getting some things,” Past-Death said. She paused, sighing. “Like emotions. I never knew there were so many. I don’t know how to control them or to make decisions when they’re always there just confusing me.”

  “You’re starting from scratch,” Deidre observed, pitying the woman. “You have to go easier on yourself. Take time to learn the new things and try not be so frustrated with yourself.”

  Deidre stared at her. “How can you be so … nice?”

  Deidre’s face flushed with heat.

  “I mean, you’re in Hell maybe even being torn to pieces every day and you’re being kind to me. I don’t understand any of this.”

  “I guess I pity you.”

  Gabriel’s mate blushed.

  “Why did you want to see me now?” Deidre asked, her new instincts warning her of an attempt at deception. “You could’ve checked up on me at any point.”

  Past-Death considered.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “I guess I was afraid to see what I’d done. I kept hoping things would just go well. I told Gabe about what I did to you yesterday, and he walked out on me.”

  “That’s rough,” Deidre murmured.

  “I’m fucking up everything,” Past-Death continued. “He came back but he’s barely speaking to me. Like he’s there but I’m not.”

  “I remember the cold shoulder. He’s good at pushing people away.”

  “I figured I had nothing to lose now. I might as well see what all I’d fucked up,” Past-Death finished. “I wanted to check on you. If you were alive, I wanted to see if you had any … advice about how to deal with Gabriel.”

  Advice. Deidre was being asked by the woman who stole her lover and her destiny for advice. Was the Dark One laughing at her right now? There were days when she wished she was more like him, capable of great evil. Or at least, capable of revenge. Because she wasn’t. She felt too bad for the former goddess to walk away.

  She took a deep breath.

  “Well, first, you didn’t fuck me over. I thought you did at first and I’ll admit, I’m not completely certain things might not break bad, but for now, I’m fine. Darkyn hasn’t hurt me and won’t. Look.” She turned to show her tattoos.

  “Oh my god!” Past-Death exclaimed. “He blood-bound you! That crafty son of a bitch!”

  “In case I win our deal.” Deidre said without thinking. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat. “Sorry. Seems kinda tacky to bring it up.”

  “No.” Past-Death shook her head. “I knew he’d figure out something. Never guessed that. He’s not someone who bows to others, and a blood-bond is pretty serious, considering you were already mates. I can’t imagine the impact of both on him when one is more than enough.”

  Deidre still didn’t quite believe the others were right. Rhyn claimed the same thing, but she definitely didn’t feel as though she had any influence over Darkyn. She wouldn’t be so terrified of him, if she did. Then again, would he tell her, if she did? She had no real way of knowing.

  “That explains the fangs. So jealous,” Past-Death added. “Sexy.”

  Damn fangs. She had forgotten not to smile and to keep her lips closed together. Deidre looked away, self-conscious about being turned into a demon.

  “Anyway,” she mumbled. “I’m glad you told Gabriel the truth. We talked after you told him.”

  “He came to see you.” Past-Death frowned. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “He’s always loved you, Deidre. That hasn’t changed.” Deidre said, sensing the jealousy in the woman before her.

  “I don’t believe it’s possible,” Past-Death said. “I’ve been afraid of losing him my whole life.”

  You had no trouble ripping him from me or me from my own life. Deidre kept her thoughts to herself, growing more distressed with the visit. She hugged herself.

  “I don’t know how to help,” she whispered. “The bond between mates is strong. Gabriel is honorable. He will do what’s right.”

  “I want to do what’s right, too, but don’t even know what that is.”

  “Darkyn’s approach to the mating bond was much different than Gabriel’s. Gabriel gave me space and a choice. Darkyn … no way in hell. Relentless.” Deidre heard the dreamy note in her voice and blushed again. “Anyway I mean, if you confront something instead of letting it fester, it might be easier to deal with. Instead of waiting for Gabe to come around, why don’t you go to him? Try to make things right.”

  “I’ve been trying to think of how to do that.” Past-Death was pensive.

  Deidre couldn’t help wondering how the woman was able to ask such favors after hurting her so badly. Grudgingly, she spoke honestly, knowing there was nothing anyone – even Gabriel – could do to break a double bond.

  “Remind him why he fell in love with you. He loves … your spontaneity, your sense of humor.” She tapped one of her fangs absently. “He loves …you and always has. He’s always loved the side of you that laughs. The part of you that makes him forget how grey his world is.” Her throat tightened at the memory of the night she met Gabriel.

  “My gods. How do you know this?” Past-Death’s words were barely audible.

  “I ...” Deidre blinked away her tears.

  “You figured that out after a week, and I know nothing after thousands of years,” Deidre whispered. “If you weren’t blood-bound, I’d give him to you now.”

  Deidre was silent for a moment, wrestling with herself. Several days ago, she would have jumped at the chance. She let herself think what she’d do, if she had the choice between the two. Seeing Past-Death’s desperation made Deidre realize Rhyn was right. The bond brought mates together, but it didn’t create a relationship. It didn’t create trust or affection or hope or love. Accepting, loving, trusting someone – even if bonded – was beyond Immortal Laws to dictate. There was still a choice.

  What she started to feel for Gabriel had been real; what she felt for Darkyn was real. It gave her a little bit of peace, knowing she wasn’t solely at the mercy of the Immortal Laws and Fate.

  She shook her head in response to Past-Death.

  “If I can win over the Dark One, you can win over Death,” she added. “You have the advantage that he already loves
you.”

  “Not sure why you’re trying to help me,” Past-Death said, tears sparkling in her eyes.

  “I want to see Gabriel happy,” Deidre replied honestly. “You are the only person who can do that.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I do.”

  “It’s not going to happen in a week,” Past-Death said, pacing.

  “No.”

  Past-Death waited for her to say more.

  Deidre hugged herself, hearing the unasked question about their deal. Darkyn said even if she won, Past-Death could live an eternity. Deidre had no idea what to say and even less of an idea what exactly happened when the deal was over.

  “Are you allowed to leave Hell?” Past-Death asked.

  Deidre nodded.

  “If I don’t fuck up everything and wipe out the world or die-dead in two days, I think I’d like to talk to you more,” Past-Death said. “If you’re interested in being the friend of someone like me.”

  Deidre heard the pain in Past-Death’s voice and felt sorry for her. Emotions warred within her. She wanted to say no and walk away. She wanted to make sure the woman whose gaze had gone from confident to sad ended up okay. She never expected Past-Death to seek her out. All along, she’d hoped some part of the former deity was able to appreciate Gabriel as only a human lover could. But it didn’t make it any easier for Deidre to deal with.

  “I might need some time for that,” Deidre responded at last. “I can forgive you, but I’m not sure I can ever trust you.”

  “Trust must be earned,” Deidre said. “I get it. I’m learning that with Gabriel. I thought this was the first step. I’m just asking for the chance, from both of you, to make things right. If I even can.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Darkyn’s mate said. “I’m gonna go. Um, I guess you know how to call me if you need anything.”

  “I do, thank you. Deidre, I really am happy that you’re okay.”

  Deidre nodded. She turned and padded back to the portal to Hell, resisting the urge to run. She stepped through and emerged on the landing overlooking the desert. She slumped against the low wall, propping up her elbows and covering her face. Did she want to cry? Scream? She didn’t know. Her eyes were warm with tears and her heart racing from the unexpected confrontation with the distressed ex-deity who viewed her as expendable less than a week before.

  She was close to hyperventilating, overwhelmed by the visit from Gabriel and Past-Death, the images she’d seen in the videos in Zamon’s library, the revelations from Zamon and Fate ...

  Deidre tried to suck in deep breaths. Her body trembled from emotion. As she stared out at the deserts of Hell, she figured out what she felt. She was furious and so hurt, she wished she’d jumped into the Grand Canyon like she originally planned.

  “My mate, helping someone win a deal against her.” Darkyn was amused.

  “I need to be alone,” she said with more sharpness than she intended.

  “Maybe I should say, my mate, facing reality.” His touch on her bare shoulder made her angrier.

  Deidre moved away.

  He touched her again, cold energy spinning through her. Deidre swiped at his hand. She knew the danger of letting him provoke her, but she was too overwhelmed to handle him calmly. He’d been orchestrating everything, always aware of what he did to her without being able to care how hurt she was.

  Darkyn took her arm. Deidre snapped.

  She whirled and slapped him hard.

  “Stop. Please,” she said with effort. “I can’t think when you do that!”

  The demon smiled. Her slap didn’t even faze him. He took a step closer. Claustrophobic, Deidre backed away. A flare of interest was in Darkyn’s black gaze, one that made her realize he wasn’t leaving until he was finished with her. Her throat was tight, her eyes blurring from tears. Her heel hit the solidness of a wall, and she tried to bolt.

  Darkyn caught her easily and pushed her back in front of him, her back to the wall. Deidre shoved at him unsuccessfully. The demon lord took her wrists and pinned them above her head. He leaned into her, lowering his eyes to her level.

  Deidre heard her own harsh breathing. Unable to look away from him, she couldn’t fight the sense she was about to have a total meltdown.

  “Please, please let me go,” she choked out. “Please.”

  “No.” The low purr was firm.

  She pulled at her trapped arms, hating the feeling of being vulnerable to him.

  “I can’t do this. I can’t be here. I … just … can’t …”

  “You can,” he replied. “I know every part of your soul. I know exactly what you are and what you’re capable of. If you weren’t capable, you’d be dead.”

  She shook her head, struggling not to cry.

  How the fuck did she live with being married to the devil? She’d given relationship advice to the woman who condemned her to Hell, advice meant to help snag the heart of a man she hadn’t stopped loving.

  Yet this was the way it was always supposed to have been. The histories and their relationship were destined to end this way.

  Deidre hated that Darkyn was right. There was one place for her in this mess, and it was with him. It was a truth acknowledged by the primal instinct drawn to the scent of his blood and invigorated by his touch. She’d spent five days with him, silently fighting him, only to realize there was nowhere else to go.

  “There’s only one door open now,” he continued.

  The truth of his words made her last meager attempt at resistance melt. Deidre stopped trying to control her tears.

  Darkyn’s grip loosened. She tugged her hands free and leaned into him, sobbing and shaking, unable to support herself. Of all the emotions running through her mind, the one that hurt the most was knowing that everyone outside Hell had already written her off as a goner. She was the last to lose hope, and it was being forced to see how out of place she was in Gabriel’s equation that finally broke her resolve.

  He held her for a moment then swept her up in his arms. Deidre clung to him, no part of her capable of resistance. After a moment, she felt him place her on the bed. She rolled onto her stomach, weeping. Her heart hurt too much for her to stop. Even the scent of his blood barely impacted her senses.

  The bed shifted under the weight of Darkyn’s frame as he settled in beside her. Deidre was rolled onto her side. He placed the bloody thumb to her lips. Its effect was immediate.

  She swallowed the few drops. She was able to breathe deeply again and her weeping turned to a trickle. Too exhausted to move, she closed her eyes as he pulled her into his body. He was warm and solid at her back, the only thing capable of grounding her in the nightmare of a world she lived in.

  “Drink,” he ordered in the low purr.

  Deidre opened her eyes. He’d torn his wrist for her to feed. His other arm wrapped around her while his breath was hot against her ear. She fed, ensnared by his scent, until she was soothed then tucked her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

  “I’m yours, Darkyn,” she said the words in a hushed voice. This time, they felt true. This time, there was nothing else standing between her and her destiny.

  “You accept your place by my side.”

  “Yes,” she murmured.

  He nudged her onto her back. She went, meeting his dark gaze. The soulless, ancient intelligence there was as fathomless as the night sky. Even if his features were young and his body lean, he wasn’t able to hide what he was.

  “You feel pain,” he said, studying her features.

  “Yes. I hurt.” Tears raced from the corners of her eyes. She didn’t try to hide them this time; Darkyn had stripped her bare. There was no hiding from her mate.

  Deidre touched his face with trembling fingers. His jaw was roughened from a five o’clock shadow. The quiet purr that only emerged when they were alone rumbled gently in his chest. He seemed content to study her. She was afraid to know what he thought, if he was counting the ways he could
manipulate her now that there were no more barriers.

  “You have always been vulnerable to me,” he said, amused by her thought.

  She sighed. “You don’t understand.”

  “I have studied human nature for the entirety of my existence. I cannot exploit it, if I do not understand it.”

  “You want me to hurt. Isn’t that what you do?” she asked, wiping her tears.

  “I want your pain to be of a physical kind that I cause when we fuck like demons,” he replied. “I do not wish you to feel pain otherwise.”

  “Are you trying to be nice?”

  “I do not try at anything I do,” he said with some irritation. “I conquer.”

  “So I’m a conquest.”

  “Without a doubt, love,” he said without hesitation. “You are also my mate. I see weakness and vulnerability as I do everyone. But I see more.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “I see beauty.”

  She gazed at him, puzzled. When he said no more, she smiled slightly. “What does that mean?”

  “I see a conquest that gives me pleasure to think of as mine.”

  Deidre laughed. The demon lord had just admitted to being happy, in his own way. Her hope had been crushed in every other way – except that it stirred once more at the idea there was more to him than she knew. Though she doubted he was capable of emotions like she was, he was capable of more than he claimed, too.

  “I’ll never tire of conquering you, either,” he said and nuzzled her neck. His hand circled her neck to release the clasp of her dress.

  Her desire stirred, aided by emotion and hunger for him. Deidre pulled his head to hers and kissed him long and hard. Within seconds, their petting grew frantic, and she shimmied out of her dress before pushing off his shirt.

  She groaned at the sensations he caused, soon drowning in the scent of blood and need to feel him inside her.

  Chapter Nine